savagemickey03

[savagemickey03]

Mrs. “Wayne”

Content warning: Swears, Arranged Marriage, talks of having an heir, Mentions of Bruce’s Affairs, Nightwing x Starfire mentioned

Based on this since no one else has done it (or at least not that I've seen...)

BTW guys if you want to write something based off something I write I ask that you tag me in it. (Unless it's like a broad thing... like if you see my post about Bruce bringing home a girl that he met and married that day then write a fic around that idea I ask that you credit me, but if you see my Yandere Bruce x reader and decide to make a "baby fever! Bruce x reader" that's more general so I don't think it would be fair of me to ask for credit.)

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"Honey I know you're angry with us but it's what’s best for you. He's the richest man in the country." Your mother fixed your veil.

"He's a whore. And what's worse is that he doesn't even consider how it even affects his kids. I just picks up orphans off the street like they're lucky pennies or a 20 dollar bill for him." You grimaced.

"You know what a..." She sounded appalled. "20 dollar bill is? Oh how I've failed you as a mother."

"Don't be so dramatic." You rolled your eyes.

"Are you ready to go?" Your father entered into the private room. "You look beautiful Princess."

"Thanks dad."

"Come on." He grabbed your hand as you grabbed the bouquet. You wrapped your arm around his as you two walked down the isle to your soon-to-be husband, Bruce "Brucie" Wayne.

You looked down through the entire ceremony, up until the Vows. Brucie's were short and sweet. "We may not know each other too well but I swear to be loyal, thoughtful, and truthful through our entire marriage." At which you heard a faint snort from the front row. You slightly glance over and see a young man a few years younger than you trying to hold laughter, his white streak bobbing as he shook with laughter. Brucie's glaring at him.

You turned back to your inevitable spouse and said your vows. "I promise to stand by your side in all your endeavors, even if that means adopting 10 more orphans you pick up from the streets like they were stray cats." You said in a monotonous voice.

You two finish off the ceremony with the standard ceremonial officiator speach.

"Do you Bruce Wayne take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"I do."

He turns to me. "Do you-"

"I do." You cut him off. Surprising everyone with how forward that was. Some whispers were heard amongst the crowd, undoubtedly calling you a gold digger for being so eager to get this ceremony over with.

"Well at least she's eager! That's almost gotta ensure this marriage lasts right?" The officiator jokes to ease the tension. "If anyone objects to this marriage please speak now or forever hold your peace." The same young man who was laughing held up his hand but it was pushed down by a man about your age sitting next to him. "Then you may now kiss the bride."

You and your new husband shared a chaste kiss before you ran down the isle and out to the limo. And after a short drive you made it to the spot where you were scheduled to take your wedding photos and have the reception.

The reception was void of life, stuffy, like all those galas your parents forced you to attend. Hopefully this didn't end up like one of the incidents of Brucie flirting with milfs, sticking his tongue down a young squeezes throat, or twerking on ice sculptures.

Eventually Brucie takes you over to the loudest table in the place. "Wifey, these are my kids and co. Dick my oldest, the trouble maker who laughed during the ceremony is Jason, my oldest daughter Cass, the middles Stephanie and Tim, and Damian my youngest. Then there's Barbara Commissioner Gordons daughter, and our newest member of our family Duke."

"I'm the only blood child." Damian points out.

"Let's hope debauchery isn't hereditary."

Jason bursts out laughing at that. "I like her already."

"Really? Cause I had to hold your hand like a toddler during the ceremony to keep you from throwing a tantrum like a toddler." Dick points out.

"Can you blame me Dickie. She's your age. If anyone should be having a hissy fit it's you. Well you and maybe Babs."

"But we're not. So can't you be mature about this."

"I think Todd's lack of manners have become more acceptable considering what she said. Now it stands out less. Congrats Todd, you're now the family's second biggest embarrassment." Damian rolled his eyes.

"Haha" You laughed sarcastically. "What are you stray cats fighting over anyway that has you so rowdy? Someone throw out a can on anchovies?"

"No we're just excited to have a new Mom." Dick smiled at you.

"Oh looks like my new Father-in-law is calling me over for some business talk. I'll be back, Wifey. You just stay here and mingle." Your husband walks away and you turn back to the Brucie bunch.

"I know you guys probably don't like me or find it weird that I'm so close to your guys ages. Do me a favor and just put up with me for say five to ten years." They looked at you confused so you elaborate. "Brucie and I signed a prenup that if I asked for a divorce I'd get nothing. But give it a few years and he'll find a new fling. They'll get caught and he'll ask for a divorce to save his image. Don't worry I'll only ask for at most a million. Standard sum for a celebrity of his caliber."

Damian glares at you. "You skank."

"I'm being realistic. As a woman in high society you get to be a man's pretty young thing till you're 40. By then you've either started your own multi-million dollar business or you're the divorced crone who can't do any better. Most relationships of this caliber are shams held together by pool boys and secretaries. Or the few lucky ones that got married for love instead of PR."

"Bruce isn't like that." Tim defends.

"Oh please. I've seen him go to a date with a woman and leave with two completely different women than the woman he arrived with." You rolled your eyes

"Maybe when he was younger, but he's changed." Duke stood up to confront you.

"It's nothing personal kids, it's just business. I don't care if that's how he chooses to live his life. I won't be around much to see it anyway, I'm going to be rather busy." You shrugged, seemingly above it all.

"Busy with what?" Cass glared.

"Trading stocks and such, preparing for the inevitable divorce. Maybe I'll go sponsor some artists or a theatre production if I'm bored. I don't know, but what I can tell you is that it's coming." You turn around to walk away and see Brucie already flirting with another woman. "And from the looks of it, it's coming sooner than we could've ever guessed." You smirked, feeling vindicated. The rest of them looked on in horror.

After the reception you two left on a rather uneventful honeymoon. The private villa was garish and gaudy. It felt like a petty excuse to flaunt his wealth especially because you two spent the entire trip sleeping in different rooms. And on top of all that half way through he up and left you with his black card and flew back to the mansion to deal with an "emergency". Your best guess was a whiny sugar baby was getting pissy.

At the end of the trip you flew back and had to catch an uber home. None of them even came to pick you up from the airport. Though with how they reacted to your statements at the reception could you really blame them?

Regardless you practically snuck into the mansion with the help of Alfred who showed you to a small guest room on the first floor. It had a single queen sized bed without even a comforter, just a white duvet, and on either side of the bed were nightstands.

"Thank you Alfred." You nodded to.

"You're welcome." He bows. "If there's anything else you need please feel free to inform me immediately."

"Brucie left this with me in his vacation home, can you give this back to him and tell him I said thank you for the take out?" You handed over the black card.

"Take out?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. And for letting me use the Wayneflix account while I was there. If I may make a slight suggestion, give your regency era shows more attention. Thank you Alfred. I'll go unpack now."

"I've already taken the liberty of unpacking your clothes into the wardrobe and dresser." He revealed.

"You didn't need to do that."

"I know you requested that I not but I felt I'd rather have your room ready for you than for you to stress when you arrived." He bowed.

"That's very sweet but I have a very particular system. My outfits all fit together in a specific way." You start to rearrange your clothes in the way you see fit.

"Might I learn how you like them so I can properly sort them next time?"

"No, it's okay. I can do my own laundry." You offered.

"Have you ever done your own laundry?" He raised an eyebrow accusingly.

"Well... no." You confessed. "But you already have like 14 other people's laundry to do. I don't want to be a bother. Besides I don't want you to waste a few weeks when it won't matter in a few years."

"So Master Damian has told me you've said. Nevertheless I'm willing to learn to do this if you are willing to learn how to do your own cooking and laundry."

"Why are you helping me?"

"I've met many people whom Master Wayne has brought into his life. You are the first who's actually wanted to fend for yourself. If you are running a long con into Master Wayne's pocket it's either the smartest or the dumbest plan I've ever seen concocted. Besides, many of the Wayne's don't currently reside here full time. Master Dick lives with his wife missus Koriand'r. Master Jason lives in a renovated greenhouse studio apartment. Miss Barbara and Miss Cassandra live as roommates. And Master Wayne lives in either his WayneTech or home Office. I have more than enough time to learn."

You genuinely smiled for the first time since you heard about the engagement. The two of you spent the rest of the day organizing clothes and making cookies.

"-And that is the difference between Light Academia and Pastel Academia.”

He looked stunned. "How do you keep all this straight?"

"It's just something I got into because I wanted to disassociate from my hopeless reality. I figured fake it till you make it right? Someday I could have a different, more quiet life. And finding subtle nuances between aesthetics is honestly fun. Like a game of spot the difference."

“Oh my! Look at the time! It’s already 4 o’clock!” Alfred looks stunned at the time.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spend four hours talking about this.”

"It's quite alright Missus Wayne."

"I'll go bring these to Brucie. Might as well let him know that he's not getting any inheritance from a tragic accident that happened to me."

"Master Wayne cares for you. I hope you know that. It may not be in the most... romantic measure... but I swear that he was not lying on your wedding day when he said he'd remain faithful to you." Alfred tried to reassure.

"If you say so Alfred." You gave him a small smile.

Alfred looked at her sadly as she walked away. He wished there was more he could do to help you fit in around the manor. Someone as grounded as you would be a good addition in Brice's life, he just knew it!

Later in the Batcave, Alfred confronted Bruce

"Master Wayne I have an idea on how to keep your new wife busy."

"Why should I care about what's she's doing with her life? I have more important things to do than to worry about than some nepo-baby throwing a tantrum.

"Why should you care? How about the fact that you have never had a serious relationship and making this work is crucial for your public image? How about the fact that she has given up her entire life to cater towards your brash decision after one petty comment Mr. West made about your love life?" Alfred started listing off reasons; becoming more irate as he did. "How about the fact that if she's not kept busy during the day she'll eventually stumble upon the entrance of the Batcave?"

That peaked Bruce's interest. "I'm listening." He swivels around in his chair.

"Offer her a job as the family's social media manager." Alfred proposed.

"What? Why?" Bruce looked at him, skeptically.

"She's very knowledgeable about different aesthetics and trend. She could make this family look..." He tried to find a nice word to describe them.

"Normal?" Bruce interrupts with an almost bored look on his face.

"I was going to say civil but that works too." Alfred shrugged as Bruce groaned. "Don't take it the wrong way Master Wayne. I love this Family with all my heart but you cannot deny that they can be a bit rowdy at times."

"A bit is an understatement. It would look good for your PR... fine. Go ask her... but If it is not up to Wayne Enterprise standards you're firing her for me!"

So that's what you've been doing for the past few months.

"Jason, I'm telling you, motorcycles are out! Most girls aren't going for the bad boy vibe anymore! They're into Timothée Chalamet!" You argued over the phone with Jason, Bruce's most rebellious child, even more so than the 12 year old pain in the ass! "Fine, we'll talk later. I have an unexpected visitor anyway." You looked behind you as Bruce entered.

Bruce made a habit of being loud around the house for her. You knew he was being exceptionally weird but you didn't exactly know why. You didn't really care all that much either.

He came up behind you and started to massage your shoulders. "Jason giving you trouble again."

"...yeah." You said shrinking into yourself. The one thing you hadn't quite gotten used to was Bruce's attempts to flirt with you. You knew that he wanted to keep public image favorable, but it didn't make sense why he flirted with you behind closed doors.

He leaned down and started kissing your exposed shoulders in your off the shoulder sweater dress. You wriggled out and away from him in discomfort and he looked at you puzzled. "What's wrong?"

"I don't like you touching me." You confessed. "I don't- ...I don't see us that way... I'm sorry."

He sat on the edge of your desk. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who should apologize. It's just that... we haven't done anything yet and-"

"And what? You think I'm a slut that's just going to put out for you?" You interrupted.

"No! I just meant that you were probably wanting me to... be more romantic... I thought you'd want me to instigate something..." He stood there, not knowing what to do.

"Well you thought wrong." You left your office angrily. You stomped out of there and went to the library. You looked over all the books they had. Classics like the Iliad and Crime and Punishment to so many romance novels. But one book in particular caught your interest. The History of Taxes.

"Who wants to read about taxes?" You cringed. The book looked relatively untouched. 'Typical,' you thought. 'Rich people can't even be bothered to try and read the books they have in their house.' She went to pull it out and found the bookshelf moving.

On the other side was the answer to one of the greatest mysteries she's had since she came to Gotham, "Who is Batman and Co?"

There it was! The Batcave and All it's glory...

Oh... the bags under his eye of sleepless nights, the flirty persona, the stomping around trying to make his presence known to you.

"Bruce Wayne is Batman..." No sooner had you said those words did you feel a sharp pain in the back of your head and the world fade into darkness...

[savagemickey03]

NSFW

- - -

mean husband!Regulus Black who swears that every time he spills his cum into you, it's just his duty as a Lord so you can give him his pureblood heir. It's not because of how cute the dress looked on you and it would look even cuter on you when you're pregnant.

mean husband!Regulus Black who gets hard when you smile at him so prettily and wants to wreck you whenever you insult him ten times worse than he does. you're not afraid of him, he loves that. Thrives on the fact that he can make your bratty mouth drool with his fingers and tongue only.

mean husband!Regulus Black who loves you, truly loves you but won't ever admit it out loud unless you're unconscious from a heavy session of getting bred and he kisses your forehead, oh so gently, and whispers, "My darling, my love." He kisses your cheek, "Oh, how you have my heart, sweet." He is unaware of the fact that sometimes you're aware and that you hear his words and it just makes you fall harder for him every time.

[savagemickey03]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x Duchess Reader

♔ Content/Warnings: Light angst, cunnilingus, fingering, blow jobs, cum swallowing, spitting/spit kink, rough sex, dirty talk, name calling, low key breed kink, toxic attraction, lots of emotions, lots of sex. OOC.

♔ Word count: this chap: 12k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Slow burn, enemies to lovers. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you - Don't read this if you want a nice Gojo lol.

Comments and Reblogs appreciated <3

Part Nine - Masterlist - Playlist

Part Ten

“Riding bareback, you are slutty.” Satoru teases as you ride the white horse next to him, you both chose to ride horses today rather than the carriage. You stick your tongue out, earning his laugh.

“Oh, you’re just mad I’m better at riding than you.”

“You certainly look sexy riding it. Wonder how you’d ride me?” You gasp now, and he chuckles, clicking his boots gently and nudging his black horse on, you nudge yours as well, by rubbing her neck, whispering to her.

“Let’s kick his ass, darling Snow.” She neighs softly, as you squeeze your thighs around her, and giggle as she sets off, passing Satoru in moments.

“Hey now! Brats.” Your hair is flying in a wave behind you, the wind blowing through your face, and in these moments it’s difficult to remember Satoru was terrible before, that you’re not likely going to be together for long.

How easy it is to forget.

That morning he’d had coffee ready for you, and surprised you with a brand new saddle for your pretty horse. You had melted at that gesture, sure he was terrible before, sure you remembered it, but you appreciated what he was doing now. Satoru had helped you set it all up, and before that you all had brought baskets together for the village, medicines and herbs to help.

He was heavily involved in it all, he was not skimping on his duties, and now as you both trot along, and he looks at you so intensely, his blue eyes shining in the sunlight, you’re enamored against your own judgment. You’ve never felt this, could it be from last night? Could it be physical? Or was it… 

More.

He had not touched you today aside from helping you up your horse, yet even that moment had you a flustered mess, as if you were courting as a young girl, those little moments with Suguru long ago, and even with Satoru originally. You remember he was a little distant but you felt giddy as he would promenade with you, getting so thrilled from his flowers he’d bring.

You frequently wonder even more now how things could have been if he had not chosen this path, this heartbreaking path that has irrevocably changed you, you are not and never will be the same. Satoru had changed everything you once knew, those lofty dreams you had were crushed when you had your wedding night, only for you to feel so much last night it shattered anything.

You think upon sweet Nanami, how you’ve left him heartbroken and had not truly meant to, you would have been content with Nanami, you just felt it was wrong to lead him to believe your feelings were at that level. His face now in your head breaks your heart, you wish you had not hurt him so.

Physically just kissing Satoru eclipsed anything you’d done with Nanami at all, even when those kisses were brutal and toxic, when he’d smacked and choked you, it did things to you none of Nanami’s careful, skilled touch could. That made you feel even worse, Nanami had not trusted you for good reason, but how could you tell your… husband… no when your entire being craved it?

Nanami was better off without you.

He’d have been better off without you ever talking to him, ever sharing your pain with him, and he wanted to save you so badly from yourself, and you bitterly know you’re just a disappointment to him. It was as if you disappointed everyone at times, except…

“Deep in thought, Princess?” Satoru asks, making you sigh, looking over at him, your hands gently holding the reins under your silk gloves.

“Indeed.”

“Thinking of your baker?”

“I destroyed him, Satoru.” You whisper, and he frowns then, nudging his horse a little closer, to fall into step with you, a hand reaching to touch your thigh, burning you with his touch.

“Destroyed him?” He asks, softly, instead of getting angry you’re thinking of Nanami. It surprises you,  so different from how Nanami reacted, it was as if Satoru knew that it hurt you and did not mind listening, like he just accepts that it did happen.

It oddly brings you more comfort knowing you can speak of such things, though you do not want to hurt Satoru either. Did not want to hurt anyone anymore.

“He begged me to stay, and I fully turned him down. He must hate me now, I would not blame him.”

He clears his throat, hands gripping just a little tighter now, heating you up from the touch. “Why did you turn him down?”

You look at him, your hand touching his, biting your lower lip as your horses trot slowly next to each other. “My feelings were no match for his, how could I let him believe they were? It would be wrong. But I know he loved me.”

“Did he really know you, though…”

“What, are you saying if he did, he wouldn’t?”

“No, bratty girl. I just wonder, does he know how mean you are? How ridiculously snarky?”

“Fuck off, Satoru.” You laugh though, and he smirks.

“He dodged a bullet with you- ow!” You smack the fuck out of him, and he feigns pain now, laughing softly. “No, let me be serious, of course he fell in love quickly, especially… making love to you, you’re so beautiful, you’re smart, those sounds you make? How you feel… yes, I believe anyone would.”

His words bring vivid memories of last night to your mind, of him inside of you, so deep, you couldn’t figure out where he ended and you began. Fuck.

“We should not speak of these things.” You say, looking away nervously, at the rolling green hill, the village coming into view.

“Why not?”

“Because we were unfaithful-”

“In a marriage we were forced into. And I regret it, surely, all of it, but I do not think you should judge yourself so harshly.”

You look at him carefully. “You’re being kind.”

“Is it so odd?”

“It’ll take getting used to. I suppose I just feel terrible for coming into his life, and for him loving me when I could not return it.”

“Do you know what love is, little Princess?” You look at him seriously then, shaking your head. “Then how do you know you did not?”

You brush your fingers down the back of his hand now. “He explained this feeling, where he could not bear to be without me, and I’m afraid I did not share that. That he had fallen so deeply, but for me it was a comfort, a joy, something pleasurable. Perhaps like your…”

“They’re not even that. They were just physical, their personalities honestly annoyed me. They’re simple I guess.”

“You chose that. Intimidated by smart girls?”

“Terrified of you.” You meet his smile, finally easing your hand off his, sighing. “Why do that? I love holding your hand.”

“We are too comfortable. Too happy. We should not be so.”

His expression hardens, he sits up more on top of his horse, back straightening. “So continue in the misery?”

“No! But… it hurts more, knowing this is how it could have always been. A beautiful relationship.” Your eyes meet, and he sways his head, but you carry on, leaving him to watch you. “Bet I’ll beat you!”

“Nah, I’ll win.” He rushes to you now, and fuck if you don’t enjoy him, laughing as he starts beating you in the race, and you feel an odd lightness you have never felt, even before him.

What is this feeling?

“They’re bootiful, Duchess!” Your sweet girl from yesterday cooes to you, her mother had returned your tiara even though you tried to let her keep it, so you have decided to make all the girls that have gathered crowns of twigs and flowers. Little crowns of white and purple flowers are sitting atop their heads, all but the last little girl you’re finishing up.

Satoru is dealing with business matters, while you have delivered the medicines and the herbs, agreeing to meet back up. He’s riding his horse and yours is right next to him in step, he’s holding the reins, and fuck if Satoru Gojo does not look sexy riding a horse. Especially in his dark blue riding gear and this top hat covering his snowy hair, that still peeks through.

You may or may not be eyeing his entire tall, lithe body when he hops down with ease, his toned legs starkly apparent in the light tan riding breeches he’s wearing, it’s clear he’s quite an equestrian. He smiles over at you, what a mess you must look like, knees in the field, your hair is loose around your shoulders, skirt covered in dirt, you certainly are not very ladylike right now.

“And what have we here, so many princesses!” He says then, as the little girls run up to him.

“Duchess made them!” They all shout nearly at once, and you laugh softly, feeling your bare hands so sore now, the sticks are snapping and smacking at you in places, but they turned out so good! And the kids smiling makes you so happy you cannot take it.

“She’s so skilled, look at this craftsmanship!” He says enthusiastically, with a wink shot your way. “Say, would you all like to pet her horse?”

“Yes please!” They all start petting Snow, Satoru’s horse wants nothing to do with them, arrogantly having his head in the air. You can’t stop the smile decorating your face, nor the warmth in your heart at the scene.

“Arrogant like his owner.” You tease as he comes closer, you’re down to the last tiara to be made finally.

“Are you talking shit, bratty girl?” You duck your head as he walks toward you, sighing now. “Aren’t you a vision?”

“I’m a mess!”

“No, you’re… a corny poet could put it correctly. I’m afraid beautiful is all I can come up with.” He leans down, studying you carefully. “In your element.”

You tilt your head, as he brushes your messy hair back gently. “Well thank you, but are you saying my element is dirt?”

“It certainly is.”

“Hey now… ugh, ow!” You look to your hands now, kneeling on the soft bed of grass, realizing you have another splinter from the twigs. Satoru looks at you, brows together, coming to kneel down in his fancy suit, surprising you when he takes your hand carefully.

“No more twigs, you’ll ruin these pretty hands.” You snort then, blowing a tuft of hair that’s fallen in front of your face.

“Can hands even be pretty?”

“Yours are. Despite the stubby fingers.”

“Hey!” He chuckles then, handing the little girl her tiara now, placing it on her head carefully with a bow. Your breath catches then, as you see this silly, goofy side of Duke Gojo, was this who he was before?

“Thank ye, yer Grace!” The girl says, running off now, and Satoru helps you up to stand, looking at your hand carefully.

“It’ll be fine until we get home, Duke. Ah!” He gently runs a fingertip along your palm.

“You have three splinters, tch. You’re not ‘fine’.”

“Oh don’t baby me, I’m a big girl.” You stick out your tongue, earning a glare from his pretty blue eyes.

“Yer Grace, please come inside, I have tweezers and antiseptic.” One of the ladies says now, looking at the Duke nervously. “It would be right cramped for a Duke and Duchess, I’m afraid…”

“Nonsense, we appreciate it.” Satoru says, his pouty pink lips turned up at the corners. You hate how your heart falters, at how sweet his smile is, his eyes crinkling at the corners just so, enrapturing you.

“Come on then, ye two, ah to have royalty in my humble home!” You follow Satoru inside the home then, a little cabin with a thatched roof, she sits you on the bed then, a little straw bed, you sit down and peek around, you notice how quaint and cute the home is.

“Oh it’s so lovely.” You say, and she blushes, shaking her head.

“Indeed not, yer Grace. Would you like me to assist?” She asks Satoru, and he shakes his head.

“No, I had enough scrapes as a boy with my friends to know how to remove splinters.” You’re surprised, you had pegged Duke Gojo for someone who really did not know how to do things like that, perhaps you have a lot you’re curious to know, before this month is up.

Why does the month ending hurt to think of?

“I’ll give ye both some privacy.” She walks out, leaving you both alone in the cozy little home.

Satoru carefully puts your hand in his lap now, gently wiping it with a washcloth that’s nice and warm. You study his face as he studies your hand carefully, his thin white brows drawn together, lips pursed just a bit, snowy lashes lowered so that you could not see the pretty blue of his eyes. He peeks at you for a moment, making you blush at getting caught staring.

“Am I so pretty to look at?” He asks with a raised brow, plucking a splinter out now, you hiss a bit.

“You are pretty and cruel, so merciless with your tweezing!” You say with a glare, earning another chuckle from him.

“Two more. Keep distracted, think of something nice. Like… hmm, cumming all over my mouth last night?”

You gasp. “Ah!” He yanks another, smirking now, and you scoff, but your body overheats, at how he’s gently gripping your wrist, sliding a thumb up along the thin veins of your inner wrist now. “Why would I think of that?”

“You tell me, you have goosebumps on your breasts, your hips are shifting, a blush decorating your cheeks. Are you thinking of it?” He whispers, leaning close, and your eyes dart to his lips, then back to his eyes.

“You would be the most slutty doctor.” He laughs then, genuinely, and it’s so bright you laugh as well.

“I probably would be, wouldn’t I?”

“You’d travel the world and sleep with every woman- oof!” He yanks the last splinter out, still laughing a bit, his broad shoulders shaking with it.

“You are so funny, I…” He blinks a bit then, clearing his throat. “I guess I did not know someone could make me laugh so much, aside from Suguru.”

“He is also quite funny, isn’t he?”

“You really kissed him, huh?” You flush again, sighing. “You do not have to explain it if you don’t want to.”

“Truly?” He nods, now leading you to the little sink, where he washes your hand carefully, just bits of blood from pulling them out.

“I deserve anything you’ve done and worse.” You hear it, his hatred of himself, and it breaks your heart into pieces.

“I will explain. It was that night when you had brought Catherine to dinner. I had a panic attack, after the um… tightening the corset comments.” You whisper, looking down now where he holds your hand, feeling emotions catch in your throat.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. You looked perfect that night.” His voice is hoarse as he dries your hand carefully inside the little cabin, and when you look up you see he is sincere, see the hurt on his face.

“Yes I… it hurt me, it triggered things that I’ve tried to fight from my own mother, and my grandmother before her. To barely eat, to the point of feeling faint, to keep my corset so tight I can’t breathe, all to be a ‘delicate lady’.” Your memories are bitter in your throat.

“That is cruel. You’re already a petite girl. Even so, to push yourself that far… it’s not okay, especially if you wish for children.”

“I know. Well you did shove those scones in my face, so we are all good now.” He smiles sadly, shaking his head.

“So Suguru kissed you after that night?”

“He followed me out, I was a disaster, I do not think he meant it other than some sort of… comfort. It’s hard to explain. To make me feel desired, attractive, when I felt so very…” You blink then, sucking in a breath to prevent your tears. Satoru is gently rubbing ointment on your hands now, staring at your palm carefully.

“I made you feel…”

“Ugly. Hideous.”

He shuts his eyes, two lines between his brows forming. “It was never so. It was I who was being hideous.” He brings your hand to his lips now, kissing each spot gently, wrecking your resolve, enhancing every feeling as you both open up more to each other. “You should not forgive that.”

“I know. But you feel remorse-”

“I remember you dropping that spoon, the clatter it made along with your pretty face, fallen. I felt so horrible, I tried to apologize, but I was still a piece of shit, and it was so half assed.”

“It was. But it’s behind us.”

He laughs without humor. “You are being too forgiving. I honestly understand why he would kiss you, he liked you long before me, and he also wished to make you feel… wanted, that is what you wished for as well.”

You nod a bit. “Yes. He did not go further, he also brought the puppy to cheer me up.”

“Suguru would be good for you. Perhaps you’d have been happy if you were arranged to marry him.” Your lips part then, stepping just a little closer, you hear the children playing outside, here the animals in the distance, chickens clucking, the whirl of the stove, but you also hear your heart race in your ears as you look at him.

“Sure, we would have been, but…”

“What if you could marry him, what if I could try to make it happen?” You exhale, shutting your eyes now, before stepping even closer, so close you inhale his scent into your nostrils, intoxicating you. His hand still holds yours carefully.

“You would do that?” He nods carefully, gulping now, pressing another kiss to your palm.

“I know he would be a good match, he’s of good standing, he would adore you, give you babies. Be a good father, be kind. If anyone had to have you, I would prefer him. I’m sorry your baker… I just cannot see that being good enough financially. You are still of high standing you know, and the scandal will nearly ruin you as is, Suguru could mitigate it, make it some ‘love match’.”

“You’ve thought this through?” He nods then, and you sigh. “You are becoming pretty caring, Satoru.”

“Me caring? Psh.” You smile softly now.

“That is caring, and selfless.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m still selfish, all I can think of is ways to make you want to stay, or ways to make up for the rest of my days if you’d let me. So do not think I’m going out without a fight.”

“I see that. Well, you have some points today, look at you, a whole medical professional.” He snorts, rolling his pretty eyes, and you take a breath, yanking him down by his tie, making him exhale against your lips. “Let me reward you, kind sir, for your care of me.”

“Fuck.” Is all he manages, his free hand yanking you by the waist, slamming his lips on yours, and you kiss him back eagerly, those violent moths in your tummy flitting into delicate butterflies. It’s a different kiss, it’s softer, sweeter, not a prelude to something sexual, it’s sweet and genuine. “How do you always taste so good?”

“I do not know, with my bitter coffee habit.” He laughs softly, cupping your face in his big hands. “It touches me that you look out for me, even if we will not be together. It means you… are trying. I see it.”

“Is it all too late?” He asks softly, and you take a breath to tell him no, it’s not too late, you may be a whole fucking fool but you feel so much with him, not just physical, but how do you open up fully, after everything?

“Satoru-” The door opens back up, and you two step back just one step each, his hand holding yours again as the lady walks back in, smiling at you both.

“So deeply in love, aren’t you both? What a dream!” She says, her hand on her chest, and you shyly look down, as Satoru stares at you.

“Falling deeper every day.” He murmurs, your eyes catch him, and you can’t take it, how easily it flows with him, how much you want to fall right in his arms. You try to compose yourself, curious if it could be true, or if he’s being sweet for the lady. But is it… true?

“Indeed, we are.” You answer softly, earning his little smile, a smile that comes to mean more by the moment.

“Are you sure you’re ready to tell me?” You ask carefully, in his study later that night, Satoru nods, clearly uncomfortable now, when he pulls out a locket, a thick rose gold one that hangs on a looped chain.

“I owe it to you, to explain this. Her name… was Adelia.” He manages to say, and you tilt your head curiously as you watch the pain on his handsome face.

“Was? Is she…”

“Not dead, though I would prefer that. I’m horrible, I know.”

“Satoru…”

“She’s banished, when I became Duke I sent her far, far away. But she’s alive and kicking, I’m sure, out in France somewhere. I gave her plenty of money for the rest of her life.” He says with a harsh laugh, then he looks at you carefully, taking your hand and looking at it. “Does it hurt?”

“Not at all, I had a good doctor.” He smiles sadly, then places the locket in your hand, and you open it, gasping.

You look at Satoru then, vulnerable and exhausted, then look back at his locket, at this woman who truly looks exactly like you, to the point it is eerie. It’s almost as if it is you, she surely is some relation or perhaps a long lost sister, the only difference is she’s older than you, and her eyes are different, just a bit. They’re the same color, but there's something cold in them.

“She looks like a twin sister.” You murmur softly, sitting down in the big leather chair Satoru frequently falls asleep in as he pours over his work. He sighs, nodding, leaning against the chair, sitting just at the arm.

“It’s uncanny, is it not?” He murmurs, and you think of him then, with her, and for some reason it makes you sick.

“It’s eerie, certainly. Adelia was her name?”

“Yes. I long ago said I’d never utter her name, but you deserve to know, as for what she did…” He stands then, walking away, pacing the study now, running a hand through his silky hair. You stand as well, walking to the center of the room and stopping him with gentle hands.

“Tell me, please, so that I may understand.” You are pleading softly, and he exhales then, nodding, but you see his jaw tense, feel his emotions rising.

“Long story cut very short, I was madly in love with her, or so I thought. She was the most beautiful thing I’d seen, she was so funny, witty, smart. Unlike anything. I was pathetic for her, spent anything I had, made myself go into debts with my father over the extravagant gifts.” You try to picture Satoru that way, and he notices. “I know it’s a far cry from who I am now.”

“No, I believe I can see you being generous.” You say softly, because the man had literally bought you a horse, and you’ve seen him be very generous with his friends and the staff. It wasn’t out of the realm.

“Generous was an understatement. I let her walk all over me, and thanked her for it. I even knew she had other men, and I’d still beg for her.” You suck in a breath, feeling the hurt, the anger emanating from him.

“Oh.” Is all you manage. “It was disloyal, so you decided to-”

“No, no, I was not disloyal once to her. I only treated you that way.” Satoru chokes on the words, taking several breaths now, as you stand in front of him, the fire crackling in the study, casting shadows of your figures across the walls, flickering flames higher and higher.

“I see.” Is all you can manage. “I suppose I did it as well, and that’s what triggered your reaction?”

“I never should have reacted that way.” He caresses your cheek softly, sighing, leaning lower. “Do not give me excuses for my actions.”

“Not excuses, they are reasons I suppose.”

“Still, even so.” His hand drops then, to your shoulder, resting on one of your puffed sleeves, his long fingers gently touching the fabric. “It’s not that, why I hated you for looking like her, she did something far worse.”

Your brows knit together. “Worse than cheating on you constantly?”

“Yes she… well her and my father…”

You blink then, as it all starts to fall together, Satoru’s fury at his dead father, his fear of having children because he would be just like them, and the unreasonable way he hated you on sight. She couldn’t have…

“She slept with him?” You manage softly, and he nods just a bit, taking several breaths, you gently hold his arms. “Holy fuck.”

“You have such a sailor's tongue.” He says with a little smile, as his eyes glimmer with unshed emotion. “For such a pretty mouth.”

“Satoru, I’m truly sorry. I don’t…”

“It’s no excuse for what I did. But… I hope now, it makes any sense at all. But you never, ever deserved one goddamn thing I did.” He’s looking away now, covering his face, shaking his head. “Nothing I have done to you is okay, I swear I will take it to my fucking grave, the hurt on your face-”

“Satoru.” You gently say, easing his hand down, seeing the glistening of tears on his pale cheek, you swipe it gently, and his hand is delicately holding yours, keeping it there.

“I do not deserve pity or comfort from you, I was terrible. I can’t make up for it, I can’t fix it. I can’t fix this.” His chest heaves now, and you feel your own emotions jolt to life, at his desperation. “And what’s worse, is now I find myself falling for you, and I know I’m not good enough.”

“Falling for me?” You look at him in shock, shaking your head. “Certainly a physical connection-”

“No.” He cuts you off now, bending low, pressing your back against the cherry wood desk of his. Your heart thuds in your chest, as you look up at swirling blue eyes by the fire light of the study, as it casts shadows and planes on his perfect features, features that become dear more and more as you look at them.

“No?” Your voice is a breath.

“No, not just physically. I thought so at first, your beauty outshines hers, you clearly are my type, what a lie that was.”

“Um… clearly.” You manage with a little laugh, and he glares.

“Do not excuse it, do not make light of it, any of it.”

“I am not.”

“But it’s not just physical, today when you were hand twisting fucking crowns for those kids, cutting your pretty hands on those twigs.” He takes one now, running his fingers where little scratches were left, and your breaths come faster and faster. “Yesterday, when you held that little girl. When you lit up and thanked me for that horse. When I saw your true beauty, so deep within.”

“Please… don’t. Don’t say that!” You feel your eyes burn, your throat closing up, as he steals more and more of your heart, wicked fucking Duke Gojo, but he’s serious, while he’s brushing your loose hair back, making your knees weak.

“I can’t help but say it, before you leave me forever.” His voice breaks now, and you’re clinging to his dress shirt, that’s falling loosely over his lithe body. “I love your kind heart, I love your caring nature, fuck everyone in that villiage adores you, everyone adores you. Even my goddamn former mistress, my best friends, they love you.”

You shake your head. “No, I just…”

“And every time I paraded them around, those women, you held your composure, but I know it killed you. I know it did. It hurt you. And I can’t forgive myself for it. For hurting someone so pure and sweet, and pushing you so far, so far you ran into a man’s arms, and I don’t blame you. I don’t.”

“Please don’t. Don’t say all this!”

“Say what, that my heart yearns to see that smile, the one that lights up the entire world?” You choke on your sobs, and he’s swiping at your tears, his own lip trembling as he takes a shaky breath. “That my body burns for your touch, that you haunt my every dream, and every waking moment.” His husky tone nearly breaks you then and there, as your breasts heave up and down with every breath.

“You can’t mean it. You can’t.” You choke out the words, as you feel yourself drawn to him, like he is that all consuming black hole, and you’d be fine getting destroyed if it meant being in his arms.

“I for once am honest, after a month of lies. Feel my heart.” He puts your little hand on his chest, and you feel it, pounding, making you weak, as your eyes lock upon each other.

“It cannot be true, not a word. If you felt that you would have never!”

“I grew to feel it more and more. Now it’s consuming me, whole, I’d let you walk all over me just to feel your goddamn step. I’d let you destroy me just to watch your pretty face as you do. I would do anything to see you smile, to see your face as you feel pleasure, to taste you, to-”

“Fuck, shut up, shut up!” You shove at him now, and he lets you, gulping and staring at you so pleadingly, this six foot plus man who looms so tall, seems so small and fragile. “I hate you more for saying it all! For making me believe it!” You cry out hoarsely, and he lets you smack at him, nodding, just standing there.

“You should hate me, you should never forgive me.” He whispers sullenly, and you hate that you want to forgive him, that you want him to…

“Hold me, please.” You beg softly, and he breaks with you, holding you tightly against his hard body, enwrapping his strong arms around you, as you bury your face against his chest, crying in earnest.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I will spend every moment making it up, as much as I can, before you leave.” His voice is a hoarse whisper, and you realize then, you don’t want to fucking leave. “I know I have lost you, I know I never had you.”

“Satoru.” You lean up, looking at him now, and he brushes your endless tears with his long fingers, gulping and nodding for you to continue. “I’m not saying I will stay, but I will say… I have not yet made up my mind to leave, either.”

He blinks then, with those teary lashes, sucking in a breath, his blue eyes swirling as they study you. “You haven’t!?”

“No. Not yet. It does not mean I forgive you, or even like you. But it does mean that… I wish to understand you more, to understand this more.” You take his hand, feeling the thrumming energy between you both. “I will give you that chance, the month, to show me who you are, before I decide fully.”

“I thought I had no chance. I thought you couldn’t wait to leave.” He whispers, and you take a shaky breath now.

“Well, you are trying, and I see it.”

“It’s not too late?”

“I do not know yet. Do you mean it, what you said, about seeing me, seeing me truly?”

He laughs softly, brushing your hair back tenderly, kissing your forehead, something you never thought Duke Gojo would do. “Oh, Princess, I mean every fucking word. I see your heart and soul, the kindness, but you know what I also see? Your bad mouth, your ability to destroy me with a look, your snappy little remarks.” He says with a little smirk now.

You smile a bit then, and he smiles down at you, pressing you further into the desk, and you feel your body react quickly. “Oh do you enjoy that, the way I wreck you with my words?”

“I’d let you wreck me in every fucking way.” His hand slides up your skirts now, and your breath quickens. “You’re strong, you’re not some simpering little damsel, you could probably crush me, kick my ass.”

You giggle now, then his hands pause on your bare thigh, fingering your garter belt, and your pussy reacts by clenching around nothing, your head falling back, a little sigh escaping your lips. “Kick your ass, you’re too big and tall.”

“You’re a scary little thing, I think you’d kick me in the dick.” You laugh again, and he marvels at it, his thumb making little circles closer to your heat. Your own hands slide up his chest, as he makes you feel more seen than anyone ever has, and how does he see you so well?

“I was sorely tempted after that whore on the table.”

“You and that tablecloth move? Fuck that made me hard.”

“You’re always hard, you slutty man.” Your fingers drift down to his belt, toying with him, giving him a little smile, and he smirks, his free hand cupping your face.

“I would do anything to feel you again, even knowing I do not deserve you. Give anything for you to sit on my face.”

Your tummy clenches, face flushed at the lewd, insane images he brings. “Sit on your face!? I… what!?”

He sighs, kissing you gently, finding you with his fingers finally, moaning softly as he does, you drink up his moans into your mouth. “I’ve had this fantasy of your thighs on either side of my face, pussy dripping on me.”

“Satoru that… sounds insane!”

“You could shut my mouth up, use me how you want. Ride me.” His words destroy you, his touch on your clit makes you moan, and he’s watching you hungrily, lips parted. “Fuck you’re beautiful. So wet, I want it dripping down my face.”

“We shouldn’t do this.” You whisper, but your hips are leaning forward, to more of his touch, Satoru’s lips hover just above yours, and you embarrassingly hear how wet you are when he’s rubbing between your lips.

“You shouldn’t give me anything, but you do, and I’m too selfish and greedy not to drink up every bit of it. Of you.”

“Shit.”

“You cuss so-” You yank him down now, slamming his lips upon yours, he’s grabbing at you desperately, tongue swirling in your mouth, as his fingers find you so hot and eager, soaking him. “I could never kiss another set of lips.”

“Liar.”

“Well, your other set of lips.” He says with a smirk, and you hate it, how charming he is, how handsome, how much you just fucking love him touching you, how much you enjoy him truly. You don’t want to enjoy him, you don’t want to need him, but it is a need, very much, a deep need from every part of you.

“Manwhore.” You say with a scowl, and he’s kissing you once more, biting your lower lip with sharp teeth, making you tremble as your hands now cling to his shoulders, feeling the strong muscles move as he fingers your wetness.

“You’re no pure, innocent little thing, are you now?” He raises a brow, and you’re flushed. “How many times?”

You tense a bit, looking up at him. “Twice.”

He blinks now, pausing, his mouth open. “Only twice!?”

“How much did you think? Keep fingering me and shut up, mmm.” He listens to you thank god, this man talks so fucking much, fingering you once more, pressing on that little spongy spot inside you over and over, you’re gasping and crying out as he plays you so fucking perfect.

“I thought much more. No wonder you seemed so surprised when I flipped you over, took you from behind.” He whispers in your ear now, and you heat up at the memory, as he’s breathing in your ear, making shivers slip down your spine. “Did you get this wet for him?”

“No, you stupid man. Fuck you for that too.” He slips two inside of you now, pressing up over and over, your thighs trembling as you overheat now, desire pooling and bringing you closer and closer. “Mmm!”

“Those sounds you make, fuck.” He pulls back to look at you, cupping your face, the intensity of his stare with his pumping fingers in your slick cunt make you rise higher and higher. “You’re so sexy, so beautiful.”

“You don’t-”

“I do think so, I know so. Every bit of you.” He’s pressing in so deep you can’t take it, kissing down your throat now, your breasts, and your hands enwrap in his hair, as you crave more and more of him, as you lose yourself to it. You feel as if somehow you are yourself more with him than you could be with anyone, you didn’t have to be ‘perfect’ anymore.

“I shouldn’t want this so badly.” You whisper, pulling back, but he’s fucking into you with those fingers, drawing you closer and closer.

“Cum on my fingers, please. Let me watch you.” He murmurs, eyes lidded, and you do then, you fall apart, head falling back, nearly collapsing on his desk as you’re pulsing around his fingers. Your entire body lit up. “Fuck.”

“Mnh.” Satoru hungrily slides up your skirts then, bringing you to him, your thighs gripping his lithe hips, taking his two fingers now and putting them in your mouth.

“Suck yourself off, like a good little slut, would you?” You glare, biting him, and he chuckles even as he shakes his hand, exhaling and studying you so intensely. “You’re a vicious little thing.”

“Fuck you.” You yank him closer again however, and he’s slamming things off his desk, papers flying.

“Fuck you right here, huh? I want you in my bed.”

“We’ll get there. And my bed, I would like to burn yours.”

“Burn it hmm?”

“Indeed.” You slip off his dress shirt now, exhaling as you run fingers down his every muscle. “Your body is so…”

“So?”

“Don’t get cocky. It’s so beautiful.” He unlaces your bodice now, as you’re sitting on his desk, looking up at him, and he then begins to unlace your stays, letting your breasts bounce out for his eager eyes.

“Your body is so beautiful. I almost fainted like a schoolboy when you first showed me them.” You laugh a bit, and he tilts his head, caressing the sides of them with his fingers, your nipples grow taut, he watches as they tighten for him. “I’ve heard you laugh a lot tonight.”

“I used to laugh, you know. At times.”

“It lights up your face.” You can hardly stand how he speaks, so softly, you melt in front of him. “It lights up my heart.”

You gulp now, throat dry. “You have a heart, Duke Gojo?”

“Satoru. And yes.” He cups your breasts now, bending low, your hands entwine in his silky locks as he leans over you, pressed between your thighs, you feel him, so hard and hot. “It’s perhaps shattered in pieces, but seeing you laugh, smile? It feels as if perhaps I can piece some together. Not enough for you, but you’d have it all.”

“Oh shut up.” You can’t take it, his raw emotion, how easy it would be to dive into him, but fuck you need him, need him like your air, how does one make it so hard to breathe yet he’s all you want to breathe!?

“Tell me what you want, Princess.” Satoru murmurs now, gripping your thighs and pulling you against him, you feel his length pressing on you over his breeches, and you are wanton when you grind on him, soaking him.

“No.”

“Then never mind.” He pulls away and you glare.

“Get back here.”

“And do what?”

“Fuck me.” Duke Gojo moans then, rushing back, as you eagerly unbutton his pants, as you stroke his pretty cock that springs free, watching his pretty face contorted in pleasure.

“Promise me you’ll sit on my face later, and I will.”

“Oh fine, I will, just fuck- ah!” Satoru’s pressing on your entrance now, only the edge of your ass on his desk, as he’s sucking in a breath, feeling your wetness pulse around him. You almost come from his tip again, you barely hold it together, eyes rolling back when he sinks in more and more. “Mmm!”

“Fuck you’re so tight, oh my god.” Satoru’s words break in the middle as he gasps, sinking in so deep, leaning over you now, breathing heavy in little pants as he studies your face. “Pussy so good it makes men stupid.”

“You’re already- ah- stupid!” Satoru’s shoving hard in you now, glaring, and you can’t stop the cry as you feel him stroking in and out of your soppy little cunt now, his big hands gripping your thighs, your ass, anywhere he can reach, stretching you out so good. “Satoru.”

He’s pumping into you now, and you’re feeling so good you can’t remember a goddamn thing, just whimpering. “I’ll fuck you so good, Princess, you will forget anything I did.”

“Then do it, then do it. Please.” He slams his lips on yours, before flipping you over, unzipping your skirts and leaving you bare, stripping your chemise off you in one fell swoop, before he smacks your ass. You gasp. “Excuse you?”

“Someone should punish you for your mouth.” He whispers, lifting your tummy onto the desk so you’re at level, legs dangling as he presses them wide. “Fuck, this view…”

“What are you-” You’re cut off then, as Satoru is shoving his cock back inside, you grip the desk, but he takes your hands, pressing them behind your back and holding them, using them as leverage to fuck you harder. Your moans are so loud you’re sure the entire staff can hear, feeling so much pleasure it’s blinding.

“I always wanted to fuck you so hard your tiara clatters to the fucking floor.” He huffs then, slamming into your pussy and staying there, you’re shuddering as his tip drags along your walls.

“It’s… not… I… mmm!” You’re getting fucked so good, Satoru hits so deep you can’t take it, your walls are fluttering, tightening.

“Feel you clenching around me like that, holy… fuck…” He’s smacking your ass again, stinging your cheeks, but it just makes you wetter, as does his hand pulling your hair back now, body arched into an S curve just for him. “Did he fuck you this good, your silly baker?”

“Did they feel this good, your mistresses?” You counter with a whisper, and he laughs, before groaning.

“Fuck no. No one ever has.” You hate that you enjoy hearing it so much, but you do, you love that he’s owning you, fucking into you, so big compared to you, you feel so tiny and helpless, and it’s just urging you on. “No one could feel this good.”

“Mnh…”

“So good I’d cum in you, have you round with my child.”

“Satoru!”

“I would if you wanted, fuck you’d be so sexy, cum pouring our of your little hole, mmm. I’d lick it up out of you, spit it in your mouth.”

The fuck the man is some demon, all he does is urge you on with his words, his hands, his cock until - “Satoru- cumming!”

“Good girl, good girl. Cum all over me.” He urges then, his hands letting your arms go, one wrapping around your waist, finding your clit, just pushing you further, until you’re a writhing mess, wetness gushing everywhere. “There you go, so good for me, dripping all over, aren’t you?”

“Ngh.” You cannot manage anymore words, not when he fills you with the most lewd images, not when he fills you with his cock, stuffed so deep you feel the weeping tip kissing your cervix. Satoru’s fingers rub in tantalizing circles over your clit, which twitches in response, you get so weak you lay forward on the desk, legs shaking.

“Can’t hold yourself up, are you so weak, Princess?” He whispers, menacingly, fuck him, fuck Duke Gojo- “F-fuck… oh my… you like that, don’t you?”

“Shut up, Satoru.” He laughs softly, before gasping, now hovering over you, one hand braced against the desk, the other tilting your face to the side.

“So good you’re crying?”

“C-crying because… you’re… pissing… me… off! Just shut up and- ah!” Satoru slams hard into you now, a hand around your neck, and you are arching your ass for more and more of him.

“I want to cum in you so bad, fill you up. Fuck you make me stupid.”

“You already are, remem- mmm!”

“Bratty girl.” He huffs, smacking your ass again, harder now, before gripping it, pressing your face down on his desk. “Arch that ass up, Princess.”

You weakly obey, as he’s pressing your head against the cool wood of the desk, and you’re arched up for him, for his smacks, for his thrusts. You feel drool pooling out the side of your mouth he fucks you so good, slamming into you with each thrust, hand clutching in your hair tightly. You’re getting fucked so good you can’t form a thought, except-

“More.” You plead, Satoru groans at that, obeying you, fucking you harder, faster, deeper, until you’re climaxing so hard you can scarcely breathe, shattering and twitching, pussy gripping him so tightly, you feel him everywhere. You feel him splitting you in two, filling you so good you can’t stand it.

“Cum again.” He orders, through gritted teeth, bending low over you, his chest slick with sweat against your back, slowing his thrusts now, swiping the drool from your lips, kissing the tears falling on your cheek. “Beautiful.”

“Mmm. Why do I believe- ah- you.” You whisper, when he’s pulling you up, turning you now, lifting you back on the desk, to look at you intensely, his swirling blue eyes like a storm in the evening, so hard to even look at, yet you’re drowning in them.

“You are the most beautiful thing that exists.” He is gentle suddenly, which throws you more off kilter, your cunt sucks him back in, as he’s holding onto you, kissing you, tongues so messy and slow, leisurely, like he’s exploring every inch of your mouth. You cling to his shoulders, shaking everywhere, closer and closer. “Perfect for me, made for me.”

“Shh.” You can’t handle him, falling deeper for him every moment he breathes, wishing you could hate him more, wishing you could remember at the moment how horrible he’d been, but you feel his heat, his energy, his length… his touch, and it breaks down every defense you’ve ever had.

“Love being inside of you.” He says then, pulling your hips up to grind on your cervix now, eyes drinking you in, you’re stretched so good, you feel him thicken inside, feel his every movement, as you’re soaking him, soaking so much you drip to the floor. “Love watching you.”

“I love you inside me.” You can’t hold it in, and he gasps, pausing just to look a you, your cunt is spasming around him, your head falling back weakly.

“You love it?”

“I love it, Satoru…” He kisses you again, grinding until you cum so hard you can’t breathe, gasping and clinging to him so tightly, nails digging into the taut skin of his back, burying your face in his chest as he moans, slowing his strokes.

“There it is. Good girl.”

“Don’t say that. Mnh, I’m dumb enough.” You kiss up his chest, his neck, as his hands take over your little waist, his eyes drinking you in, kissing your cheeks, your face, it’s far too intimate, it’s too much, overwhelming you, while you’re a mess around him.

“Where do you… want me to… m’close, fuck.” He whispers, and you struggle to form a coherent thought, as your inner thighs tighten around his hips, whining out at how good he feels inside your walls.

“Let me swallow you.” You whisper, and his mouth drops.

“Oh you’re such a freak, I love it.” He pumps in you harder before pulling back, and pulling you down. “On your knees, pretty.”

You eagerly get on them, looking up at him, he is stroking his slick length, you smack his hand, doing it yourself, the pearls of your ring glowing. Satoru’s free hand strokes your hair, his head falling back when you stroke him, opening your mouth. He lets out this sexy little whine when his tip hits your tongue, and you taste yourself on him as you suck him deeper.

“Oh my… slutty princess.” He whispers, but you love it, love throbbing and aching from him, love being on your knees, as he caresses your face, shoving his cock into your mouth. “F-fuck, you sure you can swallow it all?”

“Shut up and cum, Satoru.” You whisper, pulling back with a pop, and he follows your order, gasping as he cums in your mouth now, and cums so much, you swallow every bit of him up, fuck he’s so sweet, like those candies he sucks on.

You gulp down every bit, hot and sticky and pulsing down your throat, as he keeps fucking your mouth through it, more and more little spurts of cum, you greedily suck him clean, cheeks hollowing. He’s whispering a mantra of how beautiful you are, how good you are, a mess over you.

“Open up, lemme see.” You open your mouth now, tongue out, and he groans, helping you stand, gripping your chin. “Want to swallow more of me, Princess?”

You nod nervously, and he leans over you now, spitting in your mouth, gripping your chin so possessively as the stream of saliva streams. You swallow it as well, opening your mouth for his inspection, and he’s kissing you again, tongue devouring you, picking your naked body up in his arms.

“God you’re so good. Do you even know, what you look like with that mouth open wide, with those pretty eyes fucked out?” He’s kissing you over and over, and soon he’s changed how he’s holding you, bridal style. You’re shaking then, your emotions overwhelming you.

“Don’t hold me like this.” You say softly, and he shakes his head, kissing you as he carries you effortlessly.

“I should have, that night. Weigh nothing, little slip of a girl. I was wrong. So bloody wrong, about it all. Now let me do everything I have dreamed of, while I have  you here.” You’re crying then, as he carries you into your room.

“You listened.” You whisper, and he’s nodding, gently laying you down on your back, leaning on top of you, hovering just so, drinking you in.

“We’ll burn that bed if you wish. I’ll do anything to keep you happy, to keep you smiling, keep you cumming.” His hands trail down your tummy, it trembles under his touch.

“I’ve already cum too much. I cannot do more, insane man.” He smiles softly then, touching you everywhere, you’re so sensitive you can’t stand it. “Perhaps after some rest, I’m sore.”

He laughs softly, nodding then. “So, may I rest here with you?”

You gulp then, biting your lower lip. “You want to lay in bed?”

“Of course I do. I yearn to hold you every night.” You shut your eyes while he strokes your arms gently, then your waist. “You will send me away, had your way with my cock and send me off like a mistress.”

“Oh stop that, silly man.” You look up at him, grinning so big against your will, and his breath catches. “What is it?”

“Every time you smile like that, it’s like you grip me here.” He puts your hand on his bare chest now, and you sigh, tracing your fingers along one of his well formed pectoral muscles.

“I want to trust this, believe this, but I’m fucking terrified. What if I let you in, and you fully destroy me?” You whisper, unable to stop your tears, Satoru’s eyes shut, he rests his head on yours.

“I know you’re scared. I can give you time. I’m doing too much-”

“No, I want it all. All of this.” You lean up now, kissing him through your tears, over and over, you’re a tangle of limbs on the bed now, he’s pulling you even closer against him, a thigh between yours, pressing up.

“I want all of you. Every bit of you.” He says huskily. “I’d let you do anything, if you just come back to me.”

“Satoru I only want you, so much so I… I thought of you when…”

“I thought of you too. About how it’d feel tighter, wetter.” You whine out when he’s shoving two fingers in your sore little entrance now, your head falling back, exposing your throat for his kisses, his bites. “Pictured that beautiful face of yours, saw you in my every dream.”

“You took over my dreams.” He moans now, slamming his lips back to yours, and you feel yourself falling further and further into the abyss that is him, into his every touch, every look, every sound he makes. You feel him wrapping you up, and you never want to escape.

“You dreamt of me?” He asks, you see him so vulnerable again, and now that you know his past, you realize how hard it must be. You cup his face gently.

“Over and over, against my will. If I dreamt of someone, your face would take over, annoying me to no end.” He grins then, pecking a kiss on your breasts now, looking up through his long white lashes.

“My dreams were not annoying.”

“Well you annoy me, so. Vex me to no end.”

“Do I? Or are you vexed that you enjoy me?” He teases, earning you rolling your eyes at him, then he’s back to fingering you, and you forget everything, as he’s pumping in and out of you, and you’re dripping everywhere, embarrassingly. “You get wetter than anyone, I swear.”

“It’s annoying too.”

“Is it now? Hear yourself.” You do then, hear the squishing, you’re blushing so furiously, and you’re feeling him hard again, right on your thigh. “Did you get your rest now?”

“I haven’t- ah - rested!” He’s running his thumb on your clit, you’re arching up for more and more of him, lost in him, in his blue eyes that kill you.

“You rode that horse so well.” He pulls you then, on his chest, grinning up at you deviously, and you’re trembling.

“I can’t sit on your face!”

“You sure can, Princess, look, there you are.” He’s gripping the plush of your inner thighs, and you’re straddling his pretty face, he moans when he looks at your pussy, licking his lips. “Is this my dessert?”

“Oh you’re insane! What if I crush you!?” You’re holding yourself up by the headboard, shaking as he laughs against you, breath tickling your pussy, making more wetness trickle down.

“You cannot crush me, foolish girl. Please, ride my face, as much as you want, you can shut me up fully.” You can’t take his sexy eyes, his beautiful lips, as you’re hesitantly easing down on him, your pussy hovering right above his face.

“If you can’t breathe will you tap me or something!?”

He laughs softly. “You will not hurt me, little Princess. Now, c’mere.” He yanks you down now, burying his face against you, you gasp, back arching, you’re clinging to his silky hair, trying to balance yourself. Your stomach tightens as he’s lapping you up, fucking you with his tongue, nose hitting your swollen nub.

“Toru!” You scream out, and he backs away then, eyes hitting yours, flicking his tongue along your slit, his hands holding your hips tightly.

“What now?” He asks, husky, and you bite your lip nervously.

“Um, it came out that way?” You whisper, he smiles then, lashes lowering, pressing a kiss on your pussy lips gently.

“I like it. Now, ride me, pull my hair all you want. Use me.”

“Fuck.” Why is this duke so stupidly attractive!?

You begin to do just that, and he’s moaning as you do, as you’re rolling your hips on his perfect features, soaking him completely, you are gasping in pleasure as his hot, wet muscle devours you. He’s licking between your lips, hitting every bit of you, and you’re even wetter, so wet you watch it drip down his face, until it’s shimmering with you, and then he’s pushing you even further down onto him.

His face is buried against you, his cock thick and hard, twitching, pre cum oozing out of the tip as he tastes you, bucking his own hips up. You feel the tension coiling in your tummy as he keeps licking and sucking, finally pulling your little clit in his hot mouth, sucking and looking up at you with those gorgeous, dilated fucking eyes, and you fall apart then.

You’re cumming all over him, gushing wetness all over him, feeling your body engulf in his flames, taking over you from head to toe, toes that are curling, your mouth open in a scream, hoarse as you roll your hips one more time. Your eyes lock on his, and he’s looking so adoringly at you, as he finally takes a breath, flicking his tongue over you once more, watching you shatter for him.

“Oh my god, Satoru… can’t take anymore.” You whimper weakly, only for him to pull you off his face, sliding you on his lap, slamming his lips on yours, as he grinds you against his length. “Satoru…”

“I liked Toru.” He teases with a smile, then moans as his tip bumps your clit, and you’re covering his cock with even more arousal, sticky and hot. “Fuck that was the sexiest thing, would you believe I haven’t done it?”

“No you’re a whore.��� He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist, sitting up as you grind yourself on his cock now, whining softly at how good it feels, clinging to his shoulders.

“I have not done that, no. God I want to always have you on my lips.” He says, husky, kissing you over and over, your tongues swapping your taste, and then he’s lifting you, easing you back down his cock, you’re weak as he does, eyes going wide now. “Ride me, love.”

“Don’t call me love, ugh. Liar.” You whisper weakly, he shakes his head, kissing down your breasts, as you take more of him, inch by inch, sore legs from riding struggling to roll more on his cock, eliciting his moans.

“I did not lie today. I fall deeper for you.” He cups your face now, as he snaps his hips up into your tight cunt, and you shake your head, tears of how good he feels pricking your eyes, making you choke up. “I do.”

“Fuck you.”

“You are.” You giggle again, softly, pressing him down on his back then, your hair falling against his chest like a curtain.

“You want me to fuck you?” He nods eagerly, grabbing your ass, as you brace yourself on him, and he’s moaning, looking at your body, how your breasts sway when you start riding his cock in earnest. “So deep!”

“You’re gorgeous like this, fuck.” He’s enamored, his hands everywhere he can touch, as he lets you control everything, just urging you on here and there, watching you eagerly. “You are doing such a good job.”

“Stop saying the right thing.” He bucks his hips up with a glare, fucking up into you then, and you’re clinging to him desperately, breasts in his face now, he’s eagerly sucking them into his mouth.

“I should shut this bratty mouth up. I’m trying to be sweet, but you’re a freaky little brat.”

“Me freaky!?”

“Yes you. C’mere now.” He’s got you laying on him, his feet flattening on the bed, and now he’s fucking up into you, making you drip down his stomach, everywhere, your mouths devouring each other again. He’s desperate in his kisses, in his thrusts, and you feel yourself impossibly higher, as you’re helpless on top of him, just letting him use you so good.

“S’Toru…” He moans again, lifting your ass up with his big hands like it’s nothing, slamming you down his length so hard your mouth drops open, eyes rolling back.

“How can you feel this perfect? You’re made f’me, fucking say it.”

“N-no!”

“Say it, Princess. Just say it.”

“No!” He smacks your ass now, and you weakly cling to him, just wetter now, pussy so sore and stretched by him, but fuck you want it, you want all of Satoru, the Duke Gojo under you.

“Made for me.” He whispers through gritted teeth, you shake your head. “Stubborn, you’re so stubborn. Every inch of your little body is mine.”

“It’s not. Fuck you. Mmm!” He’s biting your throat now, grinding his hips so that his cock’s tip presses on your cervix, then your orgasm hits so hard you can hardly rememeber a thing. You can hardly keep to this timeline, to anything, all you can cling to is Satoru.

“Made for me. Say it.” He smacks you again, and you just cry out softly, weak and unable to move or hold yourself up. He flips you onto your back, hands entwining with yours, so intimate you can’t stand it, you feel like you can’t breathe when he’s laying on top, staring at you.

“Satoru…”

“Say it. That she’s made for me. Don’t I make her feel so good?” He whispers, rolling his hips again, and you moan, nodding. “Say it.”

“Made for you.” Your words are a breathy sigh, but Satoru is moaning, kissing you so deeply, one hand entwined in yours, the other gripping your hair tightly, pulling at it as he moves over you gently.

“I want you to be mine. All mine.” He says against your ear now, kissing it, biting it, and you’re senseless under him, anything you had left to fight is gone. “God I love everything about you.”

“Satoru!”

“I want to breed your pretty pussy so bad, fuck. How can you make me this way, fucking witchcraft.” He’s babbling nonsensically as he pumps, and you see his pupils are pinpoints, his eyes bright and insane. “How will I ever get over you!?”

“Just… just… feel me. Feel me. I feel you.” Your free hand touches his heart, emotions so deep as you look into his eyes you can’t handle it, you cannot take how much you are falling, it’s a neverending abyss, Satoru Gojo, you’re exhausted from holding it all back. “I just want you.”

“I just want you.” He whispers back, and then you’re so overstimulated every breath brings you higher, his hips are gently stroking, rolling, you’re reaching up for him, for more, drinking in every bit of him. “Never want this to end, fuck. Don’t even wanna cum.” His words are against your collarbone as he’s nipping, biting, declaring things that make your heart falter.

Can you trust him?

Fuck you want to.

“Would I get pregnant if you…”

His eyes go wide now. “Possibly.”

“Then you can’t…”

“Then I can’t…” He presses a hand on your stomach, leaning up and exhaling. “Not until you decide.”

“I want you to, though.” He groans at your insane confession. “Don’t… but I do… want it…”

“Fuck.” He fucks you hard for a moment, chasing his release, clinging to you desperately, then he pulls back. “Can I cum on it?”

“Will that be okay?” You ask, he nods, and you bite your lip. “You can.”

“Jesus fuck, I don’t deserve any of this.” He exhales then, pulling out, stroking his cock, and hot white ropes shoot out, hitting the outer lips of your pussy, he’s moaning as he watches it, and you’re so flushed and flustered, at how lewd it looks. His hot sticky cum all over your pussy. “Oh my god look at you.”

“It’s obscene.” You say, and he laughs then, breathless, all sweaty and glistening, cupping your chin and tilting it up.

“The obscene things I want to do to your pretty body have barely began.”

“Barely began!?”

“You’re so cute.”

“Cute!”

“Mmm. Cute and slutty looking at the same time.” He fingers the sticky substance, all out of breath as you are. “I made you a mess. Shall I clean you, Princess?”

“Why do you seem so devious!? I… Satoru!” He’s lapping up his own cum off your pussy, and then he’s leaning over you, prying your mouth open with two fingers, spitting his cum inside your mouth. You gasp as he does, only serving to make your sore pussy throb with more need.

“You’re so sexy, fuck.” He whispers, as you swallow him all up.

“You’re ridiculous, Satoru Gojo. A fiend.” He smirks, but you’re reaching down, playing with it yourself, sucking him off your fingers.

“Fuck I can’t get enough of you. You too sore?”

“Yes too sore, insane man.” You kiss him again, as both of your fluids are mixing with your saliva, dripping between you both. “I’m exhausted now.”

“Let me sleep with you, please.” He pouts, as if he hadn’t just spit his cum in your mouth, like some innocent puppy.

“Oh fine, but let’s actually clean up. And you’re making me tea.”

“I don’t know how to make fucking tea!”

“You put the kettle on!?”

“What the fuck is a kettle? I’ll fetch a servant.”

“No, you make me tea, or no sleeping in my bedchambers.” He scowls, and you glare now.

“You’re cruel and evil, I made you cum countless times, and demanding more shit from me?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Fine, you teach me.” He cleans you up properly with a washcloth, then he’s dressing you in one of your night wrappers, a pretty soft pale blue, which he ties carefully in the front. “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you.” You say, and he grins.

“Finally, no arguments?”

“None for the moment. Now, tea.” You drag him by his hand, and he follows you through the halls, you see several of the servants smiling and grinning, even your nan smiles softly as you two enter the kitchen. “Nan, fetch some tea please, I need to show this grown man how to make some.”

“I’ve always had a staff.” He huffs, and your Nan laughs softly, coming with a kettle and several pouches.

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, my sweet girl. Your grace.” She curtsies a bit, still giving Satoru the eye, and he sighs as she walks out.

“She wants to kill me.”

“You blame her? She had to see a lot no one else did.” It grows a little serious now, as you prepare the water, setting it in the kettle and firing it up. You look back at him as it begins to steam. “I do not say that to hurt you.”

“I know. It’s just… I cannot imagine what you went through because of me.” You hug him then, letting him sway you side to side, drinking in his presence, letting it soak into your bones, your being. “You told me to make it.”

“You can pour the water.” He snorts at that, changing the tense subject, but as he caresses your cheek, you can tell his actions weigh on him. Finally you set the bags of pretty herbs into two cups. “Let’s see a high pour.”

“A what now?” You giggle, shaking your head.

“Pour high, Satoru.”

He pours the hot, steamy water on top of the tea bags, and you both sit down at one of the servant tables, your pussy and ass so sore you wince. He grins. “Sore, huh Princess?”

“Oh do you ever shut that mouth, Satoru!?”

“When you rode my-”

“Hush, now, sip.” He blows on the steaming liquid, lips that had drank your cries, lips that did obscene things, his long fingers holding the delicate little handle of the teacup, you can barely control how much you desire him, everything about him. 

“There, I made you tea, bratty girl. You’ll lay with me.” He huffs, and then snatches you up, sitting you on his lap.

“Oh fine, if you snore I shall kick you right out, you can lay in your whore bed.”

“My whore bed, hmm?”

“Mmhmm! Oh, we have a ball to go to tomorrow, I nearly forgot with all we’ve been doing in town.”

“Imagine a ball where we don’t hate each other.”

“Who says I don’t.” He smiles then, shaking his head, kissing your cheek softly, hand running down your back. “A little less though.”

“I’ll take a little less. Did you enjoy cooking so much to get away from your mother I wonder?”

“That is how it started. Ugh, she’ll be there. Back to the corset.”

“Fuck no.” He grips your little waist then, and your eyes flutter shut at how good it feels. “You’ll wear no corset, you can wear those stays, so I can see more of your pretty form.”

“Satoru…” He hums then, as you sip your tea, setting it down with a click, wrapping your arms around him. “Fuck it. I’m very happy.”

“I’m so happy with you. Like this with me.” He kisses your chest softly, where your heart races for him, snowy white hair tickling you as it falls.

“I’m scared though.”

“I know. I will keep proving to you that I can be worthy, I swear it.” He declares, eyes looking up at you, and you believe him, you really do.

Maybe you’re a fool but you feel his sincerity.

“Let us sleep, Satoru, and no more funny business. I’m sore.”

“In the morning though?”

“Satoru!” He is laughing, picking you up in his arms again, and fuck it feels good to be held like this. You’re so terrified something will happen, to ruin this, something outside of you and Satoru, so scared it gnaws at you, but it’s eased when you’re later in his arms, under your thick blankets, and he’s holding you.

Satoru Gojo, your husband, spends the first night in bed with you, after nearly a month of marriage.

You fall asleep easily for the first time since you got here.

A/N: So this was a very Gojo/Reader based chapter, with the upcoming ball we will have more drama and intrigue, for now these two just were enjoying each other and opening up. The first bit of lightness I think I've written in here! Hope you enjoy a lighter chap, and smut filled.

Until next time, dear readers

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[savagemickey03]

Hi 👋🏻 Lou!! Congratulations 🎊🎉 on 6k!!

So how about Arranged Marriage w/ Simon?

Again congrats to 6k 🙃💛🦡

.⋆｡Give 'Em Hell｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

Your parents think you need to get married and settle down, so they called in a favour. A big military man of a husband might do you some good just not in the way they think

Warnings: arranged marriage, sort of sugar baby/daddy relationship, misogynist parents, future revenge, mention of hook-ups WC: 986

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You often wondered about the true scope of your family’s stupidity. Sure, there were moments in your childhood where you had the vivid thought that no one could be as ignorant and blatantly idiotic as your parents were but somehow, they had absolutely hit rock bottom of moronic decisions.

“What the fuck do you mean I’m getting married?” Your mother gasped.

“Watch your tone young lady, that is no way to speak to your parents.” She scolded as your father’s expression hardened. There was no question that your parents were ‘traditional’ believing that women were less than their male counterparts in every way but while they had constantly lectured you on those beliefs, they hadn’t gone so far as to inflict them upon you, until now at least. They even helped you and encouraged you through college!

“You’ve been running wild long enough, it’s time for you to do your duty,” you fought the urge to roll your eyes, “We’ve let you chase your silly little dreams but you’re getting older and your clock is ticking.” Your father clicked his tongue and reached for the tumbler of expensive bourbon on the table beside his recliner.

“We’ve picked out a good man!” Your mother chirped from her place on the expensive love seat next to your father, “He’s highly decorated in the military, he can give you a good life.”

“I don’t give a shit about that! I’m not marrying anybody! Period!” You snarled. Anger curled in your gut, turning your tone sour.

Your father’s glass slammed down onto the wood, making your mother flinch. “You will marry him or I will make your life a living hell. I make one call and no one will want to hire you, not even as a fucking garbage collector. You know the connections I have. Suck it up and be a responsible adult for once.” 

——————

“I don’t want a husband.” The man across from you made a sound that you thought might have been a laugh. Simon, as you had learned from your parents, was a Lieutenant in a special ops task force. Never married, no family to speak of and copious amounts of money, your mother had gleefully added as she literally dragged you into the official-looking building where you would be meeting your future spouse.

He was by all means, an intimidating man. Almost 6 and a half feet tall and wearing a stupid balaclava with a skull on it, he looked more fitting being in a slasher movie than in a conference room negotiating marriage stipulations. His bulky, tattooed arms were crossed over his chest, somehow making him seem even bigger to you, as he leaned back in his chair.

“I don’t want a wife.” Your eyebrows furrowed at that. 

“Then why are you here?” 

His massive shoulders rolled back as his head tilted, cracking his neck. “Same as you— orders.” You hummed under your breath and forced your gaze away from his tanned arms and up to his eyes. He was obviously a quiet man but in no way did that intimidate you. He seemed more pissed off at your father who had so rudely guided (shoved) you into the room than he did at you.

You cleared your throat. “I won’t fuck you.” This time, his laugh was more discernible. His broad chest rumbled with the sound.

“‘M not expecting you to, not unless you beg,” you made a face at him but Simon continued, “I get deployed most of the time, I’d just like someone to take care of the house and spend my money.”

“So I would be your sugar baby.” He shrugged.

“If that’s what ya wanna call it. Do what cha want, I don’t care. We just need to show up to official events together.” 

You planted your elbows on the table between you and stared into his brown eyes. Simon didn’t waver. “So you wouldn’t have an issue with me getting a job?”

“None.” He answered quickly.

“Going back to school?”

“I’d happily pay for it.” You raised an eyebrow before a devious smirk crossed your lips.

“Get a lover?” His eyes blazed while he mirrored your position, the swivel chair beneath him groaning with his mass as he leaned forwards, planting his massive palms onto the table.

“I’d like to see you try.” Against your will, heat raced through your body, setting your nerves alight with the thrum of arousal.  Simon’s mask shifted and you imagined that he was smirking at you. 

You tamped down the feeling of wetness between your soft thighs, forcing yourself to remember exactly why you were in this situation in the first place. “You’re a lot different than I was expecting.”

He huffed. “So are you. Thought I was getting stuck with some bratty trust fund baby who’s never even set foot in a thrift store.”

“I thought you were gonna be a crusty old man who wanted me to put out so he could feel better about his broken dick and receding hairline.” Silence settled between you before suddenly, you both broke into peels of laughter, an oppressive weight suddenly lifted from the room. 

You were relieved; Simon seemed at least like a decent human being if nothing else and it appeared that you could continue living your life, although without the occasional hook up here and there. But considering how handsome you presumed your almost husband to be, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“I guess we both got lucky didn’t we?” You wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Or just benefitting from the sheer incompetence of the people that thought this was a good idea.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“So, should we do this then?” You asked. Simon rose from his seat and offered you his hand, which you didn’t hesitate to take. As he pulled you to your feet, he uttered:

“Let’s give ‘em hell.”

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[savagemickey03]

being sevika's clueless, pretty girlfriend.

she's having you hold her arm steady as she repairs it. you're perched on a desk while she's on a chair right in front of you. stiff, frozen metal laid across your pillowy lap. big eyes wondering down at each gear and wire as she leans against your knees to screw a joint into place.

"this thing doesn't look like you at all..."

"yeah, baby, 's an arm."

"no! like, uhm, it looks... fun?"

sevika glances up through her thick lashes, a brow raising curiously and lips curving sideways, "i'm not fun?"

"you're like if the color orange was a person."

"good thing?"

"uh-huh!"

"good."

your knee starts bouncing at some point - sevika sighs and shoots you a soft glare,

"baby," she presses, "stop moving."

"oh, sorry!"

"'s okay," she mutters, "you're real antsy today. need to get up?"

"no, i'm fine." disbelief is written clear over her face, you melt under the mere notion and shrug, "i guess i could get out... in a bit... whenever you're done."

"i've done what i can today," she sits up, a harsh ache panging up her spine and through each rib, "you wanna go out? where?"

"uhmmm," you purse your lips as sevika attaches her clunky new arm -a faint guilt stings through your gut; today was meant to be about slimming the design. cutting jinx's fatty, maximalist design wherever possible.

sevika slices that shame where it sprouts, "'uhm's not a place. i told you those piltover guides are shit scams."

"i know, i know, uhmmm... let me think!"

"okay."

"sev' you're gonna hate me..."

"what's up, baby?" she helps you off the desk with her organic hand, looking down at you passively.

"i have no idea where i wanna go..."

"want me to pick?" she grins when you nod, eyes scrunching cutely. yanking you into her side, sevika shrugs cooly, "can't start hating you 'cuz your head's empty, baby, it's what makes us so good together."

[savagemickey03]

winter soldier au with John Price who was held in a gulag for three years and comes home wrong. comes back snarling and furious and threatening to rip apart the goddamn world if they don't give him what belongs to him, what's rightfully his, if they don't give him back his fucking wife, right this second—

the only problem is: John's ex-wife remarried. she's halfway around the world, and Laswell knows John enough to immediately squash that idea right away. but if not her, then who?

and then you walk into the room—a newly hired secretary that John has met less than a handful of times; a pencil pusher barely even a blip on the radar—but he pounces. snatches you up before any of them can react, tucking your bemused face into his chest, cradling you tight; possessively clutching at you as Kyle tries, and fails, to calm him down.

"you don't know her, sir. just let the girl go—"

it's met with a nasty snarl. all gleaming, bloodied teeth. a stranger in a familiar shape as John drags you further away from them. "this is my goddamn wife."

his declaration is met with shock. you're definitely not his wife. you barely know him much outside of a several, threadbare exchanges where he breathed down your neck about filing the wrong reports, and the cluttered mess of your desk ("a goddamn eyesore—"). you're not even friends. and in all honesty, you didn't even think he liked you that much. so. wife?

but he's beyond reason. his head a mangled, trenched mess of artillery fire and Makarov's torture. three years, Kate breathes. three whole years.

you can tell, almost immediately, by the look on her face that this—that you—will become a necessary loss in the grand scheme of things. and when John lets her close enough to whisper into your ear (having somehow convinced him that he can just walk out of here with you, his fucking wife, leaving for the marital home (and bed) that he demands from them for this brief stalemate)—she hurriedly tells you about their plot. this high risk, no reward scenario of playing along. not that you have much of a choice.

keeping John Price as close to them as possible was worth more than something as flimsy, as malleable as your agency, your autonomy. and if the way to do it was to let a brainwashed man play house with you, then so be it.

she, at the very least, offers a grim sort of smile even though you can see her working out the mechanics of it all as she makes promises on your behalf. things like, yes, John, you can leave with your wife. she missed you so much, John. she's so happy you're home.

"we kept your wife safe for you, John—" no one seems to react to the violent way Johnny has to be dragged out of the room by Ghost, kicking and screaming at the injustice of it all because th' captain wouldnae do this! don't do this t'him!

and John—if there's any part of that man still inside him, he doesn't let an inch of it show—just nods, lip pulling up into a snarl as he bullies you closer to his chest, and growls about finally getting you home.

"I'll keep you with me," he rasps, blunt fingers spreading wide over the fill of your body. a mad, twisted gleam of possessiveness, ownership, burning in bruised blue as he familiarises himself with this body he claimed as his. "right where you belong, wife."

(the word comes out in a bite. snaps around you and sounds just like mine.)

[savagemickey03]

For Your Ears Only: When MC sends them audio porn

Featuring: The Dateables + Side Characters (+ bonus Michael and Karasu) x gn!Reader

NSFW // Content: Explicit smut. Sex toys, sexting (audio/pictures/video), demon forms mentioned, penetrative sex and fingering (gn!reader receiving), size kink, breeding kink, creampie, light dom/sub undertones, guided masturbation, orgasm delay/denial, corruption kink if you squint, clothing kink, car sex, oral sex (gn!receiving), implied switch!reader & switch!thirteen, pet names, rough sex. 6.8k words.

For Your Ears Only series: Part I (The Demon Brothers)

DIAVOLO // royal treatment

Diavolo has been in his office all morning. He’s bored out of his mind from signing the endless stacks of paperwork that Barbatos puts in front of him. He would gladly welcome any excuse to escape, and your message gives him something to look forward to. He’s curious about your warning to listen to it alone, so he waits until Barbatos excuses himself from the office to prepare more tea.

Desire pools in his belly when Diavolo finally listens to your recording, and by the time it’s over, he’s gripping the armrest of his chair so hard that it cracks. He holds his D.D.D. to his ear while he storms from the room. He replays the message again because there’s something so alluring about listening to your sweet sounds like this. The desperate, breathy whimpers of his name as you fuck yourself with that inferior toy rile him up even more. He strides through the castle towards his private chambers, ascending the stairs two steps at a time in his haste to see you.

(Diavolo doesn’t even notice that he rushes past a very irate-looking Barbatos. No matter how much he wants to protest, the butler knows better than to get in the prince’s way; Diavolo is radiating power and lust and the need to claim, and trying to stop him now would be a dangerous mistake. Besides, there will be time for lectures about propriety later.)

Diavolo’s true form is completely revealed by the time he enters his bedroom. His blood pumps at the mere sight of finding you naked and waiting for him on his dark silk sheets. Your knees are bent and you part your thighs so invitingly when he kneels on the bed and crawls on top of you. His large hand cups the hot, wet mess between your legs. His fingers stroke you teasingly, and your body shivers with sensitivity from your recent orgasm. He crushes his lips against yours and swipes greedily at the seam of your mouth so he can lick inside and taste you. He teases two fingers into your hole while you're distracted by the kiss, and he stretches you just a little more.

(You buy toys smaller than him on purpose so that no matter how much you might tease yourself with them, they'll never match how thick his cock is, or reach as deep as his rough, powerful strokes do.)

You whimper when he pulls away too soon for your liking, but he bares his fangs in a feral smile and finally sinks his cock inside you. Your back arches against the mattress as he stretches you open, and he pants heavily while he resists the urge to fuck into you like a rabid beast. His thrusts are slow and shallow at first, but your warm, soft body enveloping his cock and your nails digging into his back urge him to move faster, harder, and deeper.

He comes with a roar and you whine at the sensation of his hot release painting your walls and marking you as his. He stares between your bodies and grinds his cock inside you so that he can trap his cum inside you a little longer.

Nothing in this world can fuck you or fill you the way the future demon king can, and he spends the rest of the day proving it to you.

BARBATOS // servant of two, master of one

When you send Barbatos teasing messages, you do so knowing that the likelihood of him being able to come see you anytime soon is slim to none. He's incredibly busy assisting Diavolo and taking care of other important work. Early in your relationship, you both agreed on reasonable expectations that took his many responsibilities into consideration. He doesn’t want to neglect you, but you don’t want to disturb him either.

He cherishes all the photos and videos you send him. They’re sentimental tokens he hoards selfishly for himself; they remind him that you love him and desire him like you've never wanted anyone else. If he’s too busy to call you or visit you, they offer temporary relief for the longing he feels. After he receives the message you sent him today, he has a new treasure to add to his collection.

He listens to your recording when he's completing mundane chores alone in the laundry room. No one else sees the butler’s infallible mask slip: his breath hitches slightly, and the freshly-laundered sheets slip from his fingers when his hands tremble with the sudden need to touch. He grunts and clenches his fists when your breathy crescendo of fuck–fuck–fuck—! ends with a broken cry of his name.

He feels unusually warm when the recording ends and all he hears is his own ragged breathing. His cock stirs in his pants and he takes a few minutes to calm himself and regain his composure. He can't perform his duties with a hard, throbbing cock ruining the crease of his pants. By the time he’s calm and leaves the room, he’s decided how to respond to you.

Barbatos has to prepare the Young Master's lunch next, but he has a bit of time to spare and walks to his bedroom first. He doesn't dare sit on the bed; fond memories of fucking you between his sheets might tempt him to linger. He doesn't call you either, even though he desperately wants to. He records a voice message for you instead, and he carries on with his work once he confirms you’ve received it.

You listen to his message from the comfort of your bed, you can tell right away that he sounds less composed than usual. His voice is a bit rougher, and it makes you giddy knowing you have that impact on him. You smile as you listen to his compliments and praise and he tells you (with explicit details) how lovely your surprise was. He asks for a favour from you, if you’re willing, and he gives you instructions for how he'd like you to use your toy next.

You lay back and let the soothing cadence of his voice guide your actions. You move the toy in and out of your body at the pace he commands. He coaxes you to the edge of pleasure but denies you over and over; despite how close you are, you stop when he tells you to. When he finally asks you to come for him, the breathless, pleading tone of his command shakes you to your core. He anticipates that you need a moment to recover, and the recording is silent until his gritty voice reminds you how good you are for him and how much he loves you.

You feel wonderful knowing that he'll be pleased with your obedience, and you send him the proof he asked for: another recording of yourself, and a picture of the new mess between your legs. Your body trembles slightly as pleasure fades and your body melts into the mattress. You relax in your bed, naked and cum-stained, and when your D.D.D. pings, you read his new message with a smile. He decided to rearrange his schedule after all, and he’s on his way to take care of you himself.

SIMEON // savor the moment

He’s not the most skilled when it comes to technology, but Simeon figures out how to play the recording you sent him. He heeds your warning that he should listen to it in private, and he escapes to the dimly-lit sanctuary of his bedroom and sits on the bed. Sometimes you send him voice messages about your day. Other times, you remind him how much you love him and miss him, and you confess how sinful your thoughts become when you think of him.

He’s shocked when he recognizes the sounds that filter through the speakers of his phone and fill his room. He’s heard them so many times when he makes love to you between his sheets (or yours), or on the sofa in the sitting room, and even once against the front door when he was too impatient to wait—

Whenever Simeon is with you, his carefully made plans to take you apart slowly and lovingly burst at the seams when he finally has his hands on your body. Everything about you is irresistible. He denied temptation for so long that he can’t control the raging passion inside him when he’s with you.

The sounds you make for him on this recording are a bit different though. It’s almost like you’re teasing yourself towards the edge, instead of hurtling towards it with abandon. Your moans and cries become breathier and louder and it’s the most beautiful symphony he’s ever heard.

He senses that you’re basking in the slow, sensual delight of touching yourself, rather than the passionate frenzy that often happens when you’re together. Even as lust stirs inside him and makes his cock swell, he’s stunned by your intimate gift made for him alone.

He loosens his belt and slips his hand inside his pants as he listens to you again. He spreads the pearly-white fluid leaking from the tip of his cock down his shaft. Pleasure blooms within him when the soft, wet glide of his strokes match your rhythm.

He lays back and wonders if you felt tormented by the temptation to move faster like he does now. How did you resist the urge to pump your toy into your greedy hole with desperation as you chased your release? You maintained your slow rhythm until the very end, and he desperately tries to do the same. It feels like you’re leading him to ecstasy; you’re the only person he would ever follow blindly without hesitation or doubt, because he loves you so.

The pleasure that warms his body and makes his limbs tremble feels like a wave cresting upon the shore. Your name falls from his lips in reverent sighs and gentle moans, instead of his usual harsh groans and mumbled curses that he muffles against your skin.

He strokes his cock slowly so he doesn’t come until you do. Despite the gentle pace, his orgasm still causes his back to arch off the bed as a long, whiny moan rips from his throat. He thrusts into his fist and the bed frame creaks slightly underneath him. Ropes of cum cover his belly and part of his chest. He lets go of his cock when he gasps from the sensitivity of wringing the last drops of pleasure from himself.

He catches his breath and sighs tiredly. He feels sticky and needs a shower and clean change of clothes. After he’s tidied up, you send him a message and ask if he wants to come see you. He’s tempted, but he invites you to dinner first; he wants you both to enjoy this slow, sensual seduction a little while longer.

SOLOMON // at your beck and call

Sometimes you forget that there's not much Solomon won't do for you. He's selfish with your time and greedy for your love and affection. He uses his (frighteningly immense) power as he sees fit, and he doesn't mind being irresponsible from time to time if it means giving you what you want.

Your little surprise is a welcome distraction from a boring meeting he was told he couldn’t miss. He excuses himself quietly when his D.D.D. pings, and he holds his phone to his ear and listens to the recording in the hallway outside. His soft smile sharpens into something wicked when he realizes what you sent him.

Anyone that might see him now would notice how his eyes grow darker as his pupils dilate, or that he adjusts himself discretely as his cock hardens in his pants. He doesn’t feel any hesitation or remorse when he abandons the meeting and teleports to his home where he knows you're waiting. (He'll make his apologies and excuses to the Sorcerer's Society later, after he's fucked your brains out.)

He re-appears in his bedroom and he's already unbuttoning his shirt eagerly, but his excitement deflates when he realizes his bed is empty. He knows you must be nearby; the scent of your musky arousal and sweat lingers near the bed. The sheets are still in disarray, and he can even see the small wet spots you made.

The sound of running water catches his attention, and he lets his shirt fall open as he approaches the half-closed door to the en-suite washroom. Your toy is cleaned and dry on the counter, and you splash water on your face with a tired sigh. You jump when you meet his gaze in the mirror, and you smile bashfully at his sudden appearance.

You didn't think he would really come, and he decides to remind you that nothing could possibly keep him away. He steps inside and embraces you properly so he can enjoy the feeling of your warm, bare skin against him. Your legs are still trembling slightly, and your scent is so much stronger now. 

There's so much he wants to say–you're so beautiful, darling or you're a naughty thing, teasing me like that during my meeting–but he kisses you instead.

It's sweet at first, and he pours his love and desire for you into the kiss. Sometimes he wishes he were a more patient man, because your first whimper against his lips reminds him of all the delightfully carnal things he wants to do to you. The kiss becomes heated and passionate as your mouths slot together perfectly, and he matches your delighted noises with soft groans of his own.

His mouth coaxes your lips open, and he curls his tongue with yours as he backs you against the counter. The hands that cradle your face so lovingly slide down your body, and he groans as he explores the familiar dips and curves of your chest and waist. His hands smooth over the swell of your ass and he squeezes. He gropes the soft flesh a little more before grasping the back of your thighs and lifting you up.

You're lost in the loving haze of his kiss and make a startled noise in the back of your throat when he sets you on the edge of the counter. He pulls you flush against his chest and you gasp as the outline of his cock rubs against the wet, sticky space between your legs. The hunger in his eyes mirrors that of your own.

You fumble with his belt and pump his hard, leaking cock while his fingers tease your entrance. He moans at the delicious friction of your hand on him. He breathes out a stuttered sigh when your soft, warm walls welcome his fingers so easily.

You prepared yourself so well for him, and he can’t wait anymore. His hand curls around your hip as he removes his fingers and fucks into you with one deep stroke. He cradles your neck as your head falls back with a choked off moan. He nips at your throat and groans as your body clenches around him. His pace is fast and brutal, and even when you come on his cock and your legs tremble around his waist, you whisper his name over and over again and beg him for more.

My silly darling, he thinks when he carries you to his bed and fucks you again with renewed vigor, how could I ever resist you?

MEPHISTOPHELES // tied up

Mephisto is busy today with Newspaper Club business, but you send him his gift knowing he’ll listen to it eventually. After you catch your breath, you walk gingerly to your ensuite washroom to shower. There's a ping on your D.D.D. while you're stripping the sheets off your bed to wash them.

Mephistopheles: I'll pick you up at 7:00 tonight for dinner.

Mephistopheles: And bring the tie with you.

He doesn't even mention the recording, but his request for the tie makes you feel giddy with mischief. His unique fashion accessories are something you think only he can pull off. He comes across as pretentious, but you understand that the things he wears are a personal choice and not necessarily about his status and wealth. You tease him playfully from time to time about those particular ties he likes to wear, but he knows you like them, no matter how much you deny it.

You slipped one of his ties into your pocket when you were at his home a couple nights ago. You fetched the silky cloth from its hiding place in your dresser earlier; you got a whiff of his expensive cologne and the barest hint of his natural scent underneath.

It's what inspired you to make the recording to begin with.

It was clenched in your hand while you fucked yourself with your toy earlier, and the material is creased and a bit dirty with your cum now too. When you were still catching your breath, you snapped a photo and sent it to him. It was a blurry picture of your arm resting across your waist, but there's no way he could miss the dark, silk tie underneath your glistening fingertips.

His car arrives at seven o'clock sharp, and his driver steps out to open the door for you. You slide into the seat beside Mephisto. His expression is unreadable in the poorly-lit backseat, but he takes off his gloves and pats his thighs invitingly. You straddle his lap and his bare fingers grip your waist. He teases the bare skin just underneath the hem of your shirt.

"You're a terrible distraction, pet," he murmurs, and his voice sounds so rough that you squirm. He’s already hard and he grunts quietly when you rub against him. He glares at the smile blooming across your face, but there's no heat to it.

"I missed you," you say after you lean forward and press a chaste kiss against his mouth.

He licks his lips and hums. "Did you bring it with you?"

"You mean this?" You pull his crumpled tie from your back pocket and dangle it in front of his face. His eyes lock onto it immediately, and if you can smell yourself on it, you know he does too. 

He tries to be discreet when he leans forward so his nose brushes against the fabric, and his eyes flutter slightly. There's a low purr rumbling in his chest and his pupils dilate noticeably even in the dark corner of the car.

His fingers dig into your hips when you lean against his chest. "You should probably remove the stains first before you wear this again," you whisper against his ear.

He groans when he tilts your head and captures your lips in a filthy kiss. There's nothing decent or composed about the way he starts grinding his hips up against you, or how his other hand slides under your shirt and scrapes his nails against your back. 

You scratch lightly against his scalp and tug on his hair, and he breaks the kiss with a growl. He maneuvers you off his lap and pushes you back against the seat. His face hovers above your waist and his hand rubs against you through your pants. He can feel how damp you are already, and he makes quick work of undoing your pants. You lift your hips so he can shimmy them down your thighs.

He's too impatient to undress you properly, but he bends down and licks against the edge of your arousal. He waits until you meet his gaze and then he does it again, and he grins when you whimper his name.

"I thought you wanted to go out for dinner?" you ask breathlessly. This wouldn’t be the first time he's gotten frisky in the car, but you’re worried about being seen like this.

"We’re taking a scenic route," he explains with a groan, “but I want a taste of you first." He leans down with a smirk before he sucks you into his mouth.

RAPHAEL // inevitable defeat

Raphael hesitates only for a moment before he taps Play on the screen and puts his phone to his ear. He closes his eyes at the first soft sigh that escapes you. He swallows around the lump in his throat when you moan, and he bites his lip when he hears the faint sound of the mattress creaking beneath you. His ragged breathing matches the quick pace you use to fuck yourself with your toy. The wet, squelching sounds are obscene, but he's never heard something so sinfully beautiful before.

His body feels overheated, and the first beads of sweat start to roll down the back of his neck. When his name tumbles from your lips as you come, he squeezes the phone so tightly he's worried the case might snap in his fist.

He has responsibilities in the Devildom–tasks assigned to him from Michael, chores he splits with his roommates, the relationships he has to foster with demons as part of his mission. Meeting you was inevitable, and perhaps falling for you was inevitable too. Everything you are and all the things you say and do affect him–and this is no different.

He should be getting ready to leave for a meeting, but he's frozen in place and his body quakes as he tries to smother the lust coursing through his veins. How can he walk to RAD when his cock is hard and aching? How can he think or speak of anything else except how beautiful you are and how badly he wants you? No, it won't do at all–he'll apologize later for shirking his responsibilities.

Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.

He pushes his door closed and leans his forehead against the cool wood while he taps the screen and replays your message. He holds the phone to his ear with one hand while the other reaches into his pants and palms himself, slickened by the copious fluid leaking from the tip of his cock. He's so fucking aroused by you. You make an utter mess of him and you’re not even here. His hand is soaked with his own pre-cum, and the fast strokes of his cock sound as obscene as your noises do.

Sometimes he grunts in unison with you, and other times he echoes your moans with a bitten-off curse of his own. When he closes his eyes, it's so easy to picture you naked and writhing on his bed. He wishes he could smother his sounds against your bare skin as he fucks you. All he can do now is bite his lip so hard that he can taste copper on his tongue.

He comes with a deep groan moments after you do, and his door is painted with the ropes of cum that he can’t catch. He pumps himself through the aftershocks until he winces and his hand falls limply at his side. He pants heavily against the door as he catches his breath; his skin is hot and clammy with sweat, and he'll need to shower again before he goes out.

He glances at the pearly-white mess that coats his fingers and his clothes and the door. If he were a better angel, he would tell himself that poor self-control is responsible for this mess.

But he's not a better angel, because all he can think is, what a waste I couldn't come inside you instead.

THIRTEEN // the wild card

Thirteen’s reactions to your dirty messages are unpredictable, and today you have no idea what to expect once you send her the recording. 

Sometimes when you send her a raunchy text, she sends you back something just as filthy. If you send her photos of your body (with or without clothing), she gushes about how gorgeous you are and how she can’t wait to see you in person. 

There are times when she confesses how lucky feels that she met you. Those are the days when she comes to your bed (or sneaks you off to her cave) and keeps you up all night. She murmurs praise into your ear as she fucks you so slowly, and afterwards she rolls you over and begs for you to fuck her too.

You don’t hear from her by the time you change your bedsheets and clean your toy, and you decide to have a shower and plan the rest of your day. Maybe she’s busy doing reaper things? (She’s a bit tight-lipped about the things she does that she says delicate humans like you don’t need to worry about.) Or maybe she’s trying to prank Solomon again?

You leave your en-suite washroom with damp skin and a towel wrapped around you, and you yelp in surprise when you realize someone is sitting on your bed.

She giggles at your expression. “Aww, did I scare you? I just wanted to surprise you.” She pats her phone that’s next to her on the bedspread. “We’re both full of surprises today,” she murmurs, and you notice the way her eyes roam your nearly-naked body appreciatively. She leans back on her hands and spreads her legs wide so you can stand between them.

“I didn’t hear from you. I figured I’d see you at school,” you admit with a shrug.

She tugs playfully at the knot keeping the towel wrapped around you. “You can’t blame me for being a little late, lovely,” she says teasingly. The towel gives way after another stubborn tug of her wrist, but you don’t bother picking it up. Her eyes are scorching as she drinks in your exposed skin, and her strange eyes are the most striking when she stares at you like this.

“What do you mean?” you ask curiously.

Instead of replying, she leans forward and traces your mouth with her fingertips. You flick your tongue out to tease her, but you nearly moan when you recognize the faded taste of her cum. It’s not like anything you’ve ever tasted–it’s syrupy-sweet unlike anyone else’s you’ve tasted–and you eagerly suck her fingers between your lips.

“Sometimes I can’t wait to be with you either,” she confesses quietly as she watches your lips wrap around her fingers. Her other hand settles on your waist and dances along your hip and over the top of your thigh. “And I have to compete with all those fools for your attention,” she grumbles bitterly, but she leans forward and kisses your belly as her hand seeks out your arousal between your legs.

You gasp as she strokes you, and she pulls her hand away from your mouth so she can hold you steady as your legs start to tremble. Desire blooms inside you all over again. You feel so desperate, and it would be embarrassing how quickly you fall apart for her, if it weren’t for the lovestruck look in her own eyes.

“I only want you,” you whimper as your hips rock against her hand and your fingers wind through her hair.

“I know, lovely,” she coos sweetly, and she coaxes you into her lap as she lays back on your bed. She finally kisses you and curls her tongue with yours as she continues teasing you between your legs. One of her fingers slips inside you, and you both break away from the kiss with a gasp.

“You’re ready for me,” she whispers against your ear while her finger stretches your walls and brushes against the spongy spot instead. “But I’m ready for you too,” she confesses with a breathy laugh.

You reach down between her legs and slide your hand up her thigh. You noticed she was wearing a skirt today, but she’s not wearing any underwear. You moan when you feel her hot, wet heat against your fingertips. You gather some of her slick on your fingers and trace her clit with slow circles.

“Is it greedy of me to want all of you?” you whimper, and she adds a second finger inside you.

“This first,” she suggests as she rolls her hips against your hand and moans quietly, “and then I can fuck you after?”

“I wanna fuck you too,” and you hate how whiny you sound, but nothing would be more perfect than seeing her bouncing above you right now. You saw her bag on the floor near your bed; you know she came prepared for anything you wanted to do.

She crooks her fingers inside you and grins when you start to fall apart around her fingers. “Oh, lovely, I promise we’ll both get to have a little fun.”

MICHAEL // tranquil moments

Michael would love nothing more than to ignore all his duties when you visit him in the Celestial Realm, but sometimes his absence can’t be helped. He left you earlier that morning to meet with some other high-ranking angels, and he promised to return shortly.

He saw your message during the meeting but had to ignore it until now. He puts his phone to his ear so he can listen to the recording on his way to find you. He bites his lip to stop himself from groaning at the sounds you’re making in his ear. He rushes to his room while he tries to ignore his half-hard cock that starts tenting his robes.

He enters his room but he’s surprised (and disappointed) that you’re not there anymore. The bed is still unmade and the stain he touches with his finger is damp. He lowers his nose to the mattress and inhales your sweet, musky scent into his lungs. He doesn’t know where you are, but he knows how to find out. He taps your name on the screen and waits while the dial tone rings.

“Hello, Michael. I’m surprised to hear from you so soon. I thought you might still be busy.”

“Oh, I’m going to be very busy soon. Tell me, little lamb, where are you hiding?”

“It’s not much of a surprise if I tell you, is it?”

He listens to your airy laugh, and he strains to hear the noises around you. He can’t pick up anything at first, but then there’s a hushing noise across your end of the call, almost like a heavy breath, or the wind—

He grins when he glances out the window and sees the trees outside sway gently in the breeze.

“I’ll see you soon, little lamb.”

“I hope so.”

Michael finds you lying underneath the willow tree in his private garden. Your teasing smile widens when he shrugs off his robes and lets them fall onto the grass. The sight of his broad, naked body is enough to leave you breathless.

He kneels between your legs and braces himself above you. He holds himself steady on one arm while the other dips into your pants and he groans when he feels how messy you are. Two fingers slip inside you easily when he presses them against your entrance.

“You brought the Archangel to his knees in less than two minutes,” he mutters under his breath. His eyes glance down between your bodies as your hips rock against his hand.

“I want you so badly,” you whine quietly, and his throat feels thick with emotion when he swallows.

“Let me take care of you, little lamb,” he whispers before he kisses you. He peels your clothes off until you’re bare and trembling underneath him. Your thighs rest against his hips, and he distracts you with another deep kiss as he replaces his fingers with his cock.

He fucks you until your voice grows hoarse. He moans his pleasure into the crook of your neck when he comes shortly after, and he doesn’t think anything can feel more perfect than this: the sun shining on his back, a gentle breeze cooling the glistening sweat on his skin, and your body clenching around his cock while you moan his name like a prayer.

KARASU // new experiences

Karasu is too busy to notice the notification of your incoming message on his D.D.D., but his computer terminal alerts him so that he never misses something you send him. He can play the recording through his computer, but he raises his eyebrows at your warning to listen to the audio file in private. He slips on his headset and continues debugging some new code after he hits Play.

His fingers hover frozen over the keys when he hears the first soft sigh in his ears. By the time he’s listened to the entire thing—barely two minutes later—he’s breathing heavily and his fingers are digging into his thighs. His cock is hard against his zipper and he’s leaking in his underwear.

He plays the recording again and turns up the volume so he can hear you over the sound of his heavy, ragged breathing. Your moans and cries fill his body with hot, raw desire; the wet, rhythmic sounds of the toy you're fucking yourself with make him feel desperate.

He knows he can satisfy you better than that toy can. He can fuck you as hard as you want, as much as you want. Is that really what you want from him? He’s all you need. He tosses the headset aside and pushes away from his desk so he can prove it to you. 

He shrugs on his coat to hide his erection and strides out of his office towards the elevator. He sends his assistant a message that he’s going to be off-site for a private matter and he shouldn’t be disturbed. As soon as he’s outside the building he works in, he unfurls his wings and takes off in a running jump.

You put on a bathrobe and start tidying up the bedroom after your morning activities. You haven’t heard from Karasu yet, but you hope he liked your little surprise. It’s the first time you’ve sent him something like that, but hopefully it gives him something to look forward to when he gets home.

You’re pulling the sheets off the bed to wash them when you hear a thud on the roof. You glance at the ceiling and shrug when silence follows. It's less than a minute later when you jump as the front door opens and slams closed. You hear loud, heavy footfalls of someone striding down the hall.

You recognize Karasu when he suddenly appears in the doorway, but the demon standing in front of you is different from the one you said goodbye to earlier that morning.

The air thrums with the power of his aura, and you realize you’ve never seen his true form before, not entirely. His wingspan is too wide for the doorway and he looks large in the cramped space. His suit is gone, and he’s wearing a sleeveless black muscle shirt and leather pants. He’s breathing so heavily that you think he might be hurt, but his eyes are blazing with something more intense than pain. You glance down and notice the outline of his cock straining against his pants.

It suddenly dawns on you why he’s here looking this way, and you feel bashful and flattered and a little confused that he left work in the middle of the day to see you. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a quiet rattling noise emanating from his chest.

“I take it you got my message?” you ask awkwardly. He’s still staring at you with those glowing red eyes, and the rattling noise in his chest is louder now. “Did you…did you like it?”

He crosses the room faster than you can blink and he reaches for you. When he pulls you into his arms, he crushes his lips against yours with a deep groan. You wrap your arms around his neck and press even closer to him.

His hands fumble with your robe until he loosens the belt and slides it off you. His hands roam eagerly across your bare skin, and he walks you back towards the bed. He kisses you with a desperation you’ve never seen before, and you break the kiss with a huff of amusement. “The sheets are in the laundry,” you tell him with a glance towards the bare mattress.

“Don’t need ‘em,” he mutters in a rough voice, and suddenly his hands are on your hips and spinning you around. He pushes you forward and you balance your hands against the mattress.

His fingers are cool against your skin, and you shudder when he pushes your back into a deeper arch. He teases your entrance and moans when he feels how wet you still are and how easily his fingers slip inside you. He pumps his fingers a few times before he removes them just as quickly, and you gasp as the sudden emptiness. There’s a clink of metal sliding against metal behind you, and you groan when his cock slides between your ass cheeks and brushes against your hole.

“Tell me what you want,” he snarls against your ear when he leans over you and presses his chest against your back.

“You, I want you—“ your voice breaks into a cry when he sheathes himself to the hilt in one deep stroke.

His pace is fast and punishing, and the harsh sounds of his skin slapping against yours fill the room. He’s panting loudly against your shoulder and his grunts are punctuated by curses and the odd, animalistic noises he makes when words seem to fail him.

Karasu usually prefers to be face-to-face when he’s inside you, and he’s usually soft and almost hesitant when he explores your body. He never fucks you like this, but you’ve never felt so utterly consumed by someone before and you love it. 

You can see glimpses of his fluttering wings from the corner of your eyes. One of his hands is curled around your hip, and the other is laced on top of yours on the mattress. Your breath hitches when you realize sharp talons have replaced his long, nimble fingers. He’s careful not to hurt you, but with every sharp snap of his hips, his talons dig long scratches into the plush mattress covering. You should be terrified that those same talons are wrapped around your hip to keep you still beneath him, but it only arouses you more.

Everything he’s doing to you sends you spiraling towards oblivion. You're so close to coming already; his cock grinds inside you so perfectly and his relentless pace makes you dizzy with pleasure. His rhythm is starting to falter, and you realize he won’t last long either. “Wanna come with you,” you whimper, and you feel his head nodding against yours.

“Fucking hell,” he groans. His thrusts seem almost desperate, and you can tell he’s trying to delay his own pleasure until you find yours first. “Touch yourself,” he grits out between clenched teeth. “I can’t—please—!”

It only takes a few strokes between your legs before you fall apart with his name spilling from his lips in a loud, shuddering cry. He gasps when your body tightens around his cock and he comes too. The noise that rips from his throat is like nothing you’ve ever heard before. He moans as he pumps his cock inside you until he’s completely spent, and there’s so much—you can feel his cum trickle down your thigh.

His cock softens and slips out of you, and his demon form fades away. He guides you down onto the mattress with him so you can both catch your breath. He holds you against his chest and peppers the top of your head with kisses. “Dear one?”

You glance at his face when you hear his hesitant tone. “Are you okay?”

He sniffs and your heart clenches when you notice how embarrassed he looks. “I should be asking you that. I was overcome, I don’t—I’ve never been like this before.” He looks away nervously. “With anyone.”

You cup his cheek softly and turn his face so he looks at you again. “It was unexpected, but I liked it.” 

He wraps his arms around you and sighs. “I’m sorry if I startled you, but I’m glad you found it enjoyable.” He clears his throat. “And I would be agreeable to doing this again in the future, if you want.”

You laugh. “What, me sending you dirty messages at work, or you coming home from work so you can fuck me like this?”

Karasu’s nervous smile curls into a teasing smirk. “Both.”

Read more: Obey Me! Masterlist

[savagemickey03]

For Your Ears Only: When MC sends them audio porn

Featuring: The Demon Brothers x gn!Reader

NSFW // Content: Explicit smut. Mentions of sex toys, masturbation, sexting (audio/photos), oral sex (m! and gn!reader receiving), teasing, light dom/sub undertones, consensual recording of sex acts, penetrative sex, phone sex, mutual masturbation, pet names, praise kink, sex acts/masturbation in semi-public spaces, strip tease, oral fixation, cum eating, creampie, overstimulation, light degradation, dream sex, consensual somnophilia. 4.4k words.

For Your Ears Only series: Part II (the Dateables + Side Characters)

You: for your ears only 😘 ▶️ Attachment: missingyou.mp3

You relax into the mattress with a sigh and let the D.D.D. slide from your grip onto the sheets. Your breathing is finally back to normal, and you swallow thickly as nerves and lust and a hint of embarrassment wash over you. You’ve sent your lover dirty texts and teasing photos before, but this was different. You sent the audio clip—roughly two minutes' long—without listening to it first; you were worried that if you did, you might lose your nerve and scrap the whole idea.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you finally listen to it yourself. The quality is impressive and better than you expected since you’ve never tried making something like this in the past. (You're slightly aroused listening to yourself too, so you can only imagine what their reaction will be.).

Thanks to some careful planning beforehand, your soft sounds and whimpers and curses are crystal-clear without any background ambient noises. The toy you used squelched obscenely with lube and cum as you moved it against and inside your body. The recording even picked up the faint sounds of your squeaky mattress creaking under your weight when you came so hard, your trembling body shook the bed.

You still feel an inkling of desire not yet sated, and you resist the urge to reach for your toy again. You squirm imagining your lover storming through the door and finding you like this, or maybe they’ll call you and you can listen to them get off too? You rub your thighs together as your body tingles with all the possibilities. 

Your glance at the phone in your hand and ponder what to do while you wait for a response.

LUCIFER // a test of patience

Lucifer puts his phone to his ear, and after a few moments of staticky silence, he finally hears you. He's memorized all your sounds, having drawn them from your body so often by now, and he can perfectly imagine the way your body moved as your fucked yourself with your toy. He wonders which toy you used—he gifted you several in your collection— and whether you did this in your bed or his.

It's only his sheer stubbornness and force of will that keeps him on the RAD campus, instead of abandoning his responsibilities to rush to you.

When he returns home, you notice that he seems mostly like himself, and maybe if you didn't know him that well, the subtle changes would escape you. His eyes are darker when he looks at you, and he finds silly excuses to touch you: a hand on your shoulder as he passes you at the dinner table, pretending to pull a stray piece of fluff off your shirt. He leans closer to you when he speaks to you, pressing his chest against your back while he murmurs quietly in your ear. His lips brush against you when he speaks, and you can feel him smile against your skin when you shudder.

You understand that this has turned into some kind of game. He’s teasing you and testing your reactions, and you know he’s waiting for you to break first. You refuse, no matter how much you might want to, and neither of you bring up the recording you sent him earlier.

He finally seeks you out in the library after dinner. "Come to my room in thirty minutes," he says quietly when he cups your cheek with his gloved hand. He brushes his thumb across your bottom lip. "Such a lovely gift deserves a reward."

When you stand up and try to follow him immediately, he looks at you sternly and it freezes you in place.

"I've been patient all day," he reminds you with a gentle rebuke, "so I think you can wait a little longer, too."

His footsteps echo down the hall as he walks away from the library. You try to focus on your book, but you keep re-reading the same passage and your eyes dart impatiently to the clock across the room. Time passes so slowly, and by the time you’ve waited half an hour like he asked, you’re nearly vibrating with anticipation and the inside of your underwear is damp with your arousal. 

You knock on his bedroom door and slip inside. The room is dark, but you can see Lucifer sitting on the bed with his legs crossed. Candlelight from the mantle flickers across his skin and bathes him in wispy shadows and his deep, red eyes glow as he stares at you. You might’ve started this game between you, but his hungry smirk tells you what you both know: you’ve lost, and he’s won.

He pats something next to him on the bed, and you nearly gasp in surprise when you realize he fetched the toy you used earlier from your room. How did he know which one—?

“I was so impressed by your gift earlier, and I was hoping for a repeat performance," he murmurs casually, ignoring your shocked expression.

It’s not that you don’t want to, but his request catches you off-guard. He stands from the bed and reaches for the hem of your shirt so he can tug it over your head and toss it aside. His eyes roam your bare skin and you melt into him when he pulls you flush against his chest. Your nipples harden against the fabric of his shirt, and you shiver in his arms when he kisses your jaw.

“Unless you don’t want to?” he asks quietly. He pulls back and tries to read your expression—he can sense your hesitation, and no matter what he might want, he would never dream of forcing you to do something you’re uncomfortable with.

“I’d rather have your cock instead,” you admit, and it comes out as a needy whine that makes your cheeks warm.

It’s a brutally honest honest answer, but you’re not capable of anything else: Lucifer wants your honesty, and you’re so riled up from his subtle teasing this evening that you can’t seem to filter your thoughts.

“Perhaps I can give you a little taste for motivation, hm?” he drawls, and his gloved thumb runs along your bottom lip. His eyes glitter wickedly when you lower yourself to your knees and reach for his belt. 

He fishes something out of his pocket as you undo his fly, and you realize it’s his phone. “Let’s see how beautiful you sound with your lips around my cock. I would love to see how it compares to your solo performance,” he admits quietly, and you can hear the eagerness in his rough voice.

You nod slowly to give him permission, and his eyes glitter with wicked excitement. He taps the Record button on the screen just before you swallow him down and moan greedily at his taste.

MAMMON // doesn’t care how, he wants you now

It doesn’t matter where Mammon is—the club, the casino, a photo shoot—as soon as he starts listening to that recording you sent him, he’s already abandoning his plans so he can come to you. He bites his lip to keep himself from groaning your name, unless he’s somewhere noisy where his frustrated exclamations will go unnoticed.

(Fuckin’ hell, baby, you’re so fuckin’ hot—)

He doesn’t even have to listen to the full thing, either. When the first soft moan falls from your lips, his cock is already stirring in his pants. He rushes to his car and speeds home, playing the recording on repeat over and over until he can see you.

He’s never felt so desperate, but he’s greedy for more of you, all of you. All your little whimpers and sighs, and the obscene squelching sounds as you fuck yourself and beg for him—they’re all his.

He rushes through the front door, gliding past your bedroom and marching straight to his own. When he opens the door, the scent of your arousal and cum makes him stagger in the doorway like he's intoxicated by you. You’re naked and writhing on his bed, thrusting the toy in and out of your greedy hole, while you whimper his name. The wet noises your body makes are even more visceral in person, and he can’t wait anymore.

He rips open his belt and tugs his pants down enough to pull out his cock. He crawls onto the bed and kneels between your legs. He stares at the toy that disappears in and out of your body. Your skin is wet with cum and lube and you sound so hot and you smell so fucking good. 

He wraps his hand around yours so he can move the toy with you, and it's a little faster and deeper than you managed on your own. You’re so close and you don’t want to stop, but Mammon stares at you with his mouth hanging open and it's almost enough to undo you and he's barely touched you.

“I’m so close,” you whine. His eyes glow like molten gold as he moves his hand a little faster, grinding the toy inside you and brushing against that soft, spongy spot that makes your whole body tremble.

“Yeah, c’mon babe, lemme hear you,” he pleads, and he doesn't care how desperate he sounds because he wouldn't trade this for all the fuckin' grimm in the world.

His bed frame rattles when you come with a hoarse cry. He teases you through the aftershocks until you whine try to clench your thighs shut around his hand. He finally lets the toy slip from your greedy hole, and he tosses it aside so he can kneel between your legs instead. Your legs are still shaking, and he guides them to rest on his hips. 

“Ready, babe? Nice and stretched for my cock?” he groans as he teases your entrance with the head of his cock.

You nod and roll your hips to encourage him, and you both moan against each other's mouths when he finally plunges inside you and claims your body for himself.

LEVIATHAN // dirty little secrets

Leviathan isn’t a stranger to porn. He pretends he doesn’t have a collection of videos and adult games with characters that look suspiciously like you, and you pretend you don’t know he has them. He doesn’t really need them anymore, and he’s slowly replacing his collection with videos and photos of you instead: you're the real deal, the attractive-as-hell human that wastes their time with him for reasons he’ll never fully understand.

There are nights when you can’t be together, like tonight—he doesn’t want to keep you awake with the all-night gaming event he's taking part in. You reassure him that it's okay and you understand, but you go to your room and lay in bed, thinking about him and missing him. You send him your little gift anticipating he'll listen to it at some point tonight before you fall asleep.

When his guild calls for a break, he listens to the recording through his gaming headset and he’s hard almost instantly. His body burns with embarrassment, and he hates how desperate he feels when he scrambles to pull down his pants and palm his weeping cock. Your first whimper of his name makes him whine.

He fumbles with his phone so he can call you, and you answer almost immediately. He groans when he hears the familiar sound of your creaky bed springs in the background as you continue touching yourself without him.

“My greedy little boy,” you coo breathlessly in his ear when you answer his call. “D’you want more already?”

He nods even though you can’t see, and his throat bobs when he swallows around the lump in his throat. “Yeah, fuck, you sound so good—“ he trails off into a long moan.

He doesn’t even realize he’s stroking his cock in time with the wet, slick thrusts of the toy plunging in and out of your hole. He knows how shameful and pathetic and weak he is, but he's so fucking hard and needy for you that he can't bring himself to care. “Wanna come, make me come, please, I want you so bad—” he babbles in your ear.

Your airy chuckle is punctuated by your own whimpers and moans. “Come for me, baby, let me hear you come too.”

Those words trigger his own release, and he bites his lips to muffle the shout as his cock shoots thick ropes of sticky release up his belly. He keeps going, hips jerking from the sensitivity, until you groan out his name and all the other noises on your end of the call go silent.

“How d’you feel, baby?” you murmur in his ear when his breathing calms down. “Did you make a mess for me?”

He winces at the mess covering his shirt and his hand. “Y-yeah, it’s…a lot.” He sounds so uncertain. He's doubtful that you like how out of control he is when he's with you, and he wonders if his desperation is what might eventually drive you away from him.

“Send me a picture of how sloppy you are, then clean up and go play your game.” The call disconnects and he scrambles to do as you ask. He sends you a photo of his cum-soaked shirt, his sticky, wet pelvis, and his half-hard cock resting against his thigh.

He worries that you might be disappointed when he hits Send. His phone pings with a reply, and he sighs with relief as your praise warms him though and he basks in your love and approval.

You: Good boy.

SATAN // self-care

Satan has a bad habit of overworking himself and denying that he does it. He spends long nights hunched over the desk in the library while he studies, or he holes up in his room when he reads.

Today, he skipped lunch at RAD and now he’s shrugging off dinner, too. He gives you a weak excuse about needing to study some more. You want to be supportive, but he needs a break. You know that if he were in your position, he'd be saying the same thing to you.

You go to your room and think about how lonely it's been without him these past couple days. You lay back on your bed with a satisfied hum and hope your little surprise entices him to finally indulge in some much-needed self-care.

It doesn’t take long before he knocks on your door and lets himself inside. He’s panting like he just ran down the stairs from his room. The front of his pants are tented and you can’t help the breathy laughter that bubbles out of you when you imagine him rushing through the house looking like that.

“Oh, you think this is funny, do you? You little tease—“ his words are pointed but his tone is playful. He tries to smother a wicked grin when he steps to the edge of your bed; he admires the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, the discarded toy still slicked with lube and traces of your release, and your half-lidded, bright eyes that promise him more.

You reach for him and run your hand over the outline of his cock and you smile when his hips buck towards you. You’ll give him anything he wants as a reward for finally listening to you, and he knows it. He asks you to swing your legs over the edge of the bed, and he kneels on the rug and pushes your thighs apart. His tongue licks long, slow stripes against your tacky skin and he moans when you run your fingers through his hair.

He unbuckles his belt and slips his cock free so he can jerk off while he chases the taste of your cum that still stains your skin. All your little noises sound so perfect even when he’s buried between your legs. He cleans up the mess you made of yourself while he makes one of his own.

By the time you whimper and tug at his hair from the sensitivity of coming more than once under his sinful mouth, he’s hard again and ready to fuck you properly.

ASMODEUS // a game for two

Asmodeus adores these little games you play together. He’ll send you a picture, you send him one back that’s just as naughty. It’s a nice way to build anticipation throughout the long, boring days when he can't sneak you away for some alone time.

Most of the time, it's not a problem. He’s the Avatar of Lust—he knows how to keep some semblance of self-control. Or he did, until he made the mistake of listening to that video you sent him between classes. He’s stuck at RAD while you’re waiting for him at home. He knows his options: he can skip class and go home where he knows you're waiting. Or, he can give you a taste of what you want and let the excitement simmer until later when desire finally boils over.

Being a student council officer has its perks. Asmo can walk into an unused office in a quiet part of the building without being hassled. He can lock the door and hop onto the edge of the large desk without being lectured about propriety or manners.

He lets your recording play on loop while he switches to the camera app on his phone. It's not loud enough to draw too much attention from outside, but he can still hear each lovely sound you make; they send little jolts of pleasure shooting down his spine.

He leans back on one hand while he takes a photo and sends it to you.

Asmodeus: Like what you see, darling?

His grin sharpens and becomes more feral with each new picture he sends you. In the first photo, the collar of his uniform is unbuttoned and the shirt hangs loose across the top of his chest. In the next, his uniform jacket is gone and his shirt is completely unbuttoned; he makes sure you can see how his nipples hardened in the cool classroom air. The third photo is focused on his lower belly and the outline of his cock straining against the zipper of his slacks.

He waits for your enthusiastic response before he unzips his fly and tugs his boxer briefs down. In the next photo, his hand is wrapped around his cock, and you can just see the tip that's trickling a stream of pre-cum onto his fingers.

You send him a new picture—your hand between your legs, mid-stroke along the edge of your arousal—and he starts jerking himself off too. Fuck it. He's too impatient to stave off his desire for you any longer, but it's so hot that he knows you're doing this together.

After he comes, he sucks one of his sticky fingers into his mouth and sends you one last picture; he bites his lip and stares when you send him a picture of yourself doing the same.

BEELZEBUB // impulse control

Beelzebub struggles with his insatiable appetite. If there's something he wants, he’s willing to rampage through the Devildom to get it. You’re careful about timing the little treats you send him to whet his appetite for you. When you send Beel something teasing or provocative, it’s not about driving him into an uncontrollable rampage (you’ve already learned that lesson)—it's about showing him how much you love him and miss him and want him. (And to keep him from getting too distracted by food on his way to see you.)

He doesn’t usually skip meals, especially after Fangol practice, but tonight he walks past the dining room to your bedroom door. After he lets himself in and locks it, he stares at your naked body laid across the bed. The musky scent in the air from your earlier activities makes his mouth water. He starts drooling from the corner of his mouth; he’s too distracted to notice, and you’re too enamored to care.

You make room for him between your legs, and his large, warm hands wrap around your ankles. He tickles you gently and glides his hands up your calves and over your knees. He rubs his hands over your soft, fleshy thighs; he spreads them apart even more while his gaze lingers on the glistening skin between your legs. He salivates even more at the sight of lube and slick and cum on your toy, and he licks his lips.

The only message he sent you after he listened to your recording was a request to keep your toy the way it is. It's beside you on the bed, and his eyes darken with lust and hunger when he sees that you did as he asked. He picks it up and examines it; it's not nearly as girthy as he is, but it's still an impressive size. He makes a show of licking it clean, and after a few greedy swipes of his tongue, you’re squirming with desire rather than embarrassment.

He hums and groans at your taste, but it's not enough. He swipes at the sticky mess between your legs with his fingers and sucks them into his mouth. He makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat when his fingers are clean and he's still hungry for more.

He lowers his head so his mouth can finish what his fingers started, and he shifts your legs onto his shoulders while he sucks on your arousal and flicks his tongue against your entrance. He stretches you with his thick fingers while your thighs tighten around his head and keep him in place. He finally raises his head when you tug at his hair and beg for him; you feel so empty and he's the only one that can fill you the way you want.

He watches his cock sink into you, and he finally fucks you with powerful, deep strokes that shake the bed. He holds onto the headboard for leverage, and each snap of his hips punches the air from your lungs in shaky moans and keening whimpers of his name. You come first and your walls milk his cock until he fills you to the brim.

His cock slips from your body and he lowers himself between your legs again. His tongue laps greedily at your release mixed with his. He does it over and over again, fucking you senseless with his cock and eating you out after, until your throat is hoarse and you can't possibly come again.

He looks satisfied when he finally raises his head from between your legs. The lower half of his face is warm and sticky, and he kisses you so you can taste how delicious you are on his tongue. He lays down next to you and gathers you into his arms.

While your breathing tapers off into quiet snores, he smacks his lips with satisfaction; the only thing that tastes better than you is the combined taste of both of you together.

BELPHEGOR // sweet dreams

You send Belphegor the recording you made for him, but you still haven't heard from him by the time you start getting ready for bed. When you check on him, you find him fast asleep in the room he shares with his twin. You smother your disappointment and hope he’ll still appreciate it when he wakes up tomorrow.

“You’re so fucking horny for me sometimes, aren’t you?” he whispers into your ear from somewhere behind you. He suddenly pulls you tightly against his chest and hooks his chin over your shoulder. His hand dances along the waistband of your pants and his cool fingers dip underneath and tickle the soft skin of your belly.

Your mouth opens soundlessly in surprise, but quiet, muffled moans echo around you. The sounds play on loop over and over, and you realize that they're yours.

“That pathetic little toy of yours can’t satisfy you the way I can,” he states matter-of-factly because you both know it’s true. “How many fingers do you want tonight?” he asks teasingly as his hand slips into your underwear. “One? Two?” You gasp at the cold, slick sensation of his fingers teasing your entrance. “Or three?” he breathes into your ear, and when you nod shamelessly, you cry out as he thrusts them inside and your hole stretches around him.

You reach behind you and fist one of your hands in his hair, and he hisses as a jolt of pleasure-pain shoots through his body. He smirks against your shoulder and nips at your throat in retaliation. You start rolling your hips and fucking yourself on his greedy fingers; he grunts when your ass rubs against his cock that’s hard and pressed into your back.

“See?” he taunts you as he coaxes you towards the precipice of pleasure, but his fingers are thrusting shallowly into your hole now and denying you the friction you crave.

“I’ve been here the whole time, you could’ve had me instead. I’ll fuck you however you want.” He tugs on your earlobe with his teeth. “You beg so prettily for my cock.”

“You were sleeping,” you whimper, and he clasps his hand over your mouth to muffle your frustrated cry as he pulls his fingers from your body completely. He wipes them on your shirt with a huff of laughter.

“Even if I’m asleep, I’ll still fuck you better then your fingers or toys ever could.” He licks away a bead of sweat trickling down your neck and sighs hotly against your skin. “You have my permission to do things, just like I have your permission, too.”

Suddenly you’re both bare and he pushes you down so you’re on all fours. He leans over you, and you feel the head of his cock slide between your legs and press against your entrance. “You riled me up with that little message you sent me, and now it’s time to wake up so I can fuck you properly.”

You gasp as your eyes fly open when the dream ends, and you moan into your pillow when he finally sheathes himself inside you.

Read more: Obey Me! Masterlist

[savagemickey03]

When MC Dies and is Reborn in the Celestial Realm Headcanons | THE DEMON BROTHERS 1.6k words | SFW | gn!Reader | Angst with a Happy Ending Content warnings: Implied Lucifer x Reader. Michael-centric POV. Mentions of (temporary) character death and grieving/mourning. A/N: This is an old piece that's been sitting in my Google docs for months. Without going into spoilers, playing Nightbringer last night reminded me of this.

DEATH

The demon brothers are in the RAD student council chambers when they sense something is wrong.

They visibly flinch and some of them gasp as a sudden emptiness washes over them.

Asmo is the first to notice that your pact mark on the inside of his wrist starts to fade.

The other brothers are frantic and start to palm over their clothes where your pact marks with them should be, realizing theirs are disappearing too.

Lucifer’s eyes go wide with realization at the same moment his D.D.D. starts ringing with an incoming call from Solomon.

Barbatos senses the seriousness of the situation and is already conjuring a portal to Solomon’s location.

Lucifer is the first one to step through, with his brothers stumbling behind him.

They arrive in the human world and see Solomon leaning forward in a chair in a bright, sterile hallway, his head down and hair falling over his eyes. His D.D.D. is still clenched in his hands.

Solomon looks up with tears in his eyes and he whispers in a strangled voice, “I’m so sorry.”

Diavolo and Barbatos have to intervene before the power caused by the brothers’ overwhelming grief threatens to rip the human hospital apart.

The demon brothers don’t attend your funeral, but those responsible for carrying out your final wishes are surprised that all the expenses have been anonymously paid for. 

Solomon and the Angels watch nearby as your human friends and family circle your grave and pay their respects.

Simeon tried to prevent Luke from going with him, but he was forced to bring him after Luke begged Michael personally to let him say goodbye.

Simeon has to carry a sobbing Luke away when it’s time for them to leave, but Solomon stands by your graveside as the sun sets.

After night falls, the demon brothers materialize behind him and he teleports away so they can have privacy.

The demon brothers stand like fractured shadows around your final resting place, frozen and eerily silent, and they slowly return to the Devildom one by one. Lucifer is the last to leave, just before dawn.

REBIRTH

Michael recognizes your soul the moment you’re reborn in the Celestial Realm as an angel nearly 10 years later.

You’re not an angel youngling like Luke; your body is eerily similar to your human form without the demon pact marks or the Sorcerer’s Society sigils etched into your skin.

He is alone with you and you look at him with uncertainty - you should be an empty shell, reborn with no memory or purpose except the Celestial Realm’s calling.

Curiosity prompts him to ask you your name, and you respond with the human name from your former life.

He realizes anything you do as an angel from this point forward will be tainted by the remnants of your former existence.

Michael takes a lot of risks as he bends and twists the limits of his power to allow you certain freedoms while he deliberates the best course of action.

You ask him oddly specific questions about the human world and the Devildom that a newborn angel shouldn’t be asking; you haven’t regained your entire memory, but he suspects it’s only a matter of time.

He promises himself that he will not lie to you even when you start asking more difficult questions, but he expects that will be easier said than done.

Your knowledge is lacking when it comes to the inner working and responsibilities of the Celestial Realm and he decides to tutor you personally.

He also makes a point to keep you separate from the other angels as much as possible, especially your former exchange student companions.

Simeon starts to suspect Michael is hiding something but he can’t figure out what.

Michael knows his threats don’t scare Simeon the way they do the other angels; he begs Simeon for his patience instead, which startles Simeon into reluctant agreement not to pry further into Michael’s noticeably withdrawn behaviour.

Michael finds you one night when you are thrashing in your sleep, and when he nudges your shoulder to wake you, you cling to him as you wail at the memory of your death.

After that night, the floodgates seem to burst and your other memories quickly return.

You pester Michael with endless questions about all the friends you left behind, specifically Lucifer and the other brothers.

Michael relents when you plead with him to tell you, even though he knows that it’s going to hurt you to learn the truth:

Your death triggered a lot of uncertainty and turmoil within the Devildom. Lucifer and his brothers became the worst versions of themselves as they struggled with their grief. Diavolo had to intervene with a firm hand to prevent them from completely undoing all the progress he made in uniting the three realms while you were alive.

Relations between the Devildom and the other realms became strained and uncertain.

Michael tells you that the exchange program had been suspended until recently, but the successful conclusion indicated that the Devildom had regained focus on continued peace and camaraderie with the Celestial Realm and human world.

You beg Michael to let you return to the Devildom, and he refuses.

You threaten to fall willingly if that’s what it takes, but he warns you that your circumstances are too volatile - he can’t predict what would happen to the ongoing stability of the three worlds if you should drift off this current path.

Despite his refusal to allow you to visit the Devildom, he sees how lost and broken you are.

He promises to come up with a way for you to eventually meet the demon brothers again.

You ask Michael if he thinks they still remember you, and he grudgingly admits that he thinks that they probably do.

RETURN

In an unlikely request, Diavolo receives a proposal from Michael that would allow a Celestial Realm representative to live in the Devildom on a long-term basis.

Diavolo tentatively agrees, seeing the olive branch for what it is and knowing Michael wouldn’t make that offer lightly.

The demon brothers (except for Lucifer) want to protest on principle, assuming the worst about Michael and they don’t hide their suspicions from Diavolo or their eldest brother.

Lucifer makes it his responsibility to bring his brothers in line so that Diavolo’s goals can be achieved, even though he is just as bothered by the idea as his brothers are.

Solomon is summoned to the Devildom, a rare occurrence these days. He agrees to Diavolo and Michael’s request to host their negotiations in the human world as a neutral party.

Diavolo insists the demon brothers attend as a sign of unity and good faith; they want to refuse, having avoided returning to the human world as much as possible since your passing, but finally concede after threats of punishment from Lucifer.

Michael feels overwhelming pity for his brothers when he sees them. He can see through their masks of indifference that your absence has haunted them, although he is surprised they truly cared about you that much.

As the meeting continues, Lucifer becomes increasingly annoyed by the sympathetic looks Michael gives him and his brothers from across the table.

When discussions are starting to wind down, Michael comments that you would be proud of the work the Devildom has achieved in your absence.

The unexpected mention of your name is like a trigger: Mammon pushes away from the table and paces behind his chair; Levi hugs his knees to his chest and buries his head; Asmo covers his mouth as he lets out a sob, eyes watering. Satan tries to rise from his seat with a growl, but Beel pushes him back down; and Belphie shoots him a murderous look.

Lucifer’s eyes narrow and he grits out that they wouldn’t dream of tarnishing your memory by failing to accomplish what you helped them work for.

Michael explains that he’s surprised an ordinary human could affect him this much.

Diavolo and Barbatos share a nervous look at the growing tension, and Solomon interrupts, proposing that they end the meeting for now.

Lucifer tells Michael to stop talking about things that he couldn’t possibly understand. He pulls out his D.D.D. and tells Diavolo that he and his brothers will be leaving if they’re no longer needed.

Michael asks him about the lizard charm swinging from his D.D.D., the plastic faded and worn down by time; he nods to himself when Lucifer’s only response is icy silence, like he expected nothing else.

Michael suggests that they take a moment to meet the proposed diplomat he’d like to assign to the Devildom, the sooner the better - he insists they’re very eager to begin their assignment.

Diavolo placates everyone by stating he trusts Michael’s judgement and meeting them now isn’t necessary.

Michael’s eyes twinkle with a strange mischief that Lucifer can’t explain.

After a moment, Lucifer hears the soft swish of feathers as someone materializes in an open doorway nearby.

He recognizes the familiar pair of eyes first, and they’re staring back at him with such so much longing and hope he can barely breathe .

Time seems to stand still for a moment as everyone in the room freezes with shared looks of disbelief, doubt, and shock.

When the spell is broken, it is with a flurry of activity: Lucifer moves first, launching himself across the room and pulling you into a tight embrace against his chest, your white feathers brushing against his black ones.

The other brothers quickly surround you, and you end up in a pile on the floor as the demons you missed so much whisper your name and touch your face as if they can't believe you've come back to them.

Barbatos and Solomon both watch in stunned silence, eager to know how these events unfolded but smart enough to know that those questions can wait for now.

Diavolo wipes a tear from his eye, chuckling happily as he and Michael stand and shake hands.

Michael watches with a mixture of envy and satisfaction when you return home with his fallen brothers.

[savagemickey03]

Temptation scares you, and you decide it's better to move on and forget - if Michael will let you.

Penance | MICHAEL x gn!Reader 2.1k words | NSFW | Mutual Obsession | Smut Content Warnings: Obsessive thoughts, feelings of guilt and shame, power imbalance, mind games, marking, suggestive themes and sexual content. A/N: This is the sequel to Blasphemy.

Things changed after you spoke to Michael.

You happily indulged in your insatiable curiosity to learn more about him, and you imagined what it would be like to have him touch you. You never felt guilty thinking about him before.

You didn't feel guilty because you didn’t think he knew about those things. His call was a rude awakening. Perhaps he knew all along, and it's mortifying to think about.

You didn’t sleep well that night, or the next several nights after. A few days after your little chat, you stare at the listing in your call history - UNKNOWN NUMBER - and finally gather the courage to call him back. There’s no response. The line rings and rings and rings, until you can’t stand it anymore and hang up.

You haven’t heard from him since. Was he toying with you, teasing you to make you feel shame for what you’ve done?

Sometimes you wonder if you imagined the entire conversation in some sort of dream. You’re not sure what to think or feel about him now, but you can’t linger in this mental no man’s land forever.

Maybe it’s best to put aside your guilt and your uncertainties. You don’t understand what happened between you and Michael, so you decide to reimagine the truth instead.

You didn’t have some weird, pining crush on the archangel you’ve never met.

He didn’t know you were touching yourself to thoughts of him and what you wanted to do with him, or for him, or have him do to you.

He didn’t call you and tease you with that deep, rough voice that promised something sinful as punishment if you continued to tempt him this way.

You tell yourself none of those things happened, and you try to move on.

You stop reading the chat history with Michael that you took from Luke and Simeon’s phones.

You stop asking your demon friends questions about Michael, or the Celestial Realm, or anything else that reminds you of him.

You stop thinking about Michael when you touch yourself at night. The act becomes almost clinical now, simply a way to relieve stress. It’s not long before you stop touching yourself altogether - you have no idea who might be watching. 

You convince yourself things are better this way. It’s not like you knew Michael, so you can't really miss him. You distract yourself and focus on your life in the Devildom and the friends you’ve met, and you tell yourself that you don’t need more than this. You’re no longer greedy for things you can’t have, and you're not desperate for things that you shouldn’t want.

Even though you try to forget what happened, you have a sense of dreadful suspicion that Michael won’t let you.

There’s no way you can explain the strange dreams you start having about laying on a bed of golden feathers and a pair of eyes you’ve never seen, but you know whose they are, stare into yours.

There’s no way you can explain the feeling that someone is watching you when you’re alone, or the way your skin crawls when you’re by yourself. You feel trapped like prey no matter where you are or where you go.

There’s no way you can explain the way your body tingles sometimes, like you’ve been touched by some sort of strange magic. You clench your eyes shut and resist the urge to whimper his name, because you almost feel compelled to say it. 

You can’t explain the warm breath you feel across the back of your neck as someone chuckles quietly into your ear, mocking your futile attempts to ignore him.

You feel like you’re losing your mind and you know it’s his fault. You’re trying to be a better person. Isn’t that what you should do? Isn’t that what he should want too?

It feels like this is your punishment. At first, you think it’s punishment for thinking sinful thoughts and praying for sinful acts with the archangel himself. The alternative explanation is even more confusing to consider: what if this is punishment for trying to forget him?

You’re exhausted and go to bed early one night. Your bedding feels hot and scratchy against your skin, and even after you kick it aside, you still can’t get comfortable. You throw your arm over your eyes and groan. You just want to sleep, is that asking too much?

There’s a strange chill against your skin all of a sudden. You reach to pull the blankets back over you, but you realize they’re gone. Your bed is gone.

You sit up and stare all around you. You’re no longer in your room, but inside some strange, grey space. You can’t call it a room because it seems to go on endlessly. 

It’s only when you raise yourself to your knees that you realize you’re not alone. There’s something behind you - or someone - and it tugs at a memory you’ve tried to bury. You cover your face in your hands and shake your head.

This can’t be happening, this isn’t real, this can’t be happening—

“My lost little lamb,” a deep , familiar voice coos in your ear. He settles behind you, and you can feel his warmth at your back. Something soft brushes against your sides and wraps loosely around your front. His wings.

“You’re not real,” you whimper weakly into your hands. Your voice is muffled but you don’t care; you know the archangel conjured by your dreams understands you.

“I know humans aren’t very patient creatures, but I’m surprised how quickly you moved on,” he murmurs quietly as his hands settle on your waist and pull you back against him. It feels like he’s trying to comfort you. It’s confusing.

“I felt ashamed,” you admit truthfully, and it’s the first time you’ve uttered any words of remorse out loud.

Michael clicks his tongue. “I’m very busy, but perhaps I should have come to you sooner. I may have been…irritated when I realized you tried to forget about me. I won't make that mistake again.” He nuzzles against your jaw and it tickles. He chuckles when you shiver. “You’re more fetching than I remember.”

His hands grope your waist a bit more before they slowly slide up your sides and slip underneath your night shirt. His hands feel hot against your skin, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him over your shoulder. You can’t. 

“Are you flirting with me?” you ask, and your voice sounds incredulous rather than angry.

“Perhaps I am,” he says coyly, and you gasp when his lips brush against your neck.

You swallow thickly and shake your head, even as his hands climb higher over your belly and dance along the groove of your ribs. “We shouldn’t do this,” and it’s the last feeble protest you make before your resistance crumbles. Your actions betray your words because he nudges you to raise your arms, and you obey; he slips your shirt up and over your head. You don’t feel cold for long because his hands continue exploring your bare chest, and his feathers hold you against him so his body radiates heat to you.

“But this is only a dream, remember?” The words almost sound bitter, but you’re distracted as one of his hands slides back down to your waist and tugs playfully at the waistband of your sleep pants. “There’s no judgment here. I’ll give you what you ask, if you're brave enough to tell me what you want.”

He speaks the words so softly, but there’s an undercurrent of power in them that has you arching against his chest and leaning into his touch. You can’t lie to yourself anymore, and he’s never doubted your truth. “I want you.”

It’s like a tether snaps when he’s given permission to lose control, and you cry out when his hand dips into your pants and finds the evidence of your arousal between your legs. His fingers are relentless as he strokes you, and it feels like you’re drowning in heat and pleasure and sin. 

You can feel him grow hard against your back, but he's focused solely on you. He whispers filthy praise against your skin and encourages you to move with his touch, to enjoy his mercy and revel in the ecstasy he gives you. You haven't touched yourself in so long, and it’s impossible to last like this. He touches you so perfectly, but you bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning his name. It feels like you’re clinging to your last shred of dignity, and you shouldn’t even care about that in a dream, but giving in feels like it's too much to bear—

The only warning you get before he bites you is the rumbling groan reverberating in his chest. His mouth clamps down on your shoulder and you choke on a scream as he licks at the indents his teeth left behind.

“Don’t be shy now, little lamb,” he scolds you, panting against your neck like he’s the one being fondled by an angel. “All those nights I watched you, I learned what you like. Only I know how to give you what you crave. Don’t you think I deserve a reward too?” He licks at your earlobe and kisses your jaw. “Give it to me,” he demands in that powerful timbre that you’re powerless to resist.

You know what he wants, and you want to please him. His name falls from your lips in a pathetic whimper. He smiles against your skin and moves his hand against you, faster than before, as your reward. White-hot pleasure surges through your veins when he strokes you, and you're desperate for something to cling to. Your arms reach blindly for him, and he hums his approval at your desire to touch him.

Your fingers ding into one of the thighs bracketing your own, and the other finds purchase in his hair. You tug harder than you mean to, and his hips surge forward as a moan rips from his throat. He makes stuttering, aborted thrusts against your back like he's struggling to maintain his composure.

He's breathing heavily, and he grunts when your hips grind back against him. His evident desire for you is your undoing. You fall apart and coat his hand with your release; your broken cry sounds suspiciously like his name. His fingers coax you through the aftershocks, and he holds you while you ride out the last waves of pleasure. He finally pulls his hand away when you squirm from the sensitivity.

You tremble in his arms and he holds you tighter than he did before. “What about you?” you ask hoarsely. You can still feel how hard he is, and you're surprised he's asked for so little from you - you probably would've given him anything.

He’s oblivious to the sweat beading against your temple - or he doesn’t care - when he presses a kiss there and sighs wearily. “Next time,” he whispers.

You turn your head to try and glance at him over your shoulder, no longer afraid of him, but he stops you. His hand cradles the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss before you can see him properly.

“Sleep now, little lamb,” he murmurs against your lips—

You wake up with a gasp and thrash wildly until you realize you’re in the warm, soft comfort of your bed. You take gulping breaths and try to control your erratic heartbeat.

What the hell was that?

When you wiggle your hips, you feel the slightest bit of heat pool deep within your belly. Your pajama pants feel damp, and you realize the inside of your thighs are sticky. 

It’s not the first time you woke up like this after dreaming of the archangel, even if it has been a while, so you think nothing of it. You feel sluggish and exhausted, and it takes a couple of minutes for you to gather enough strength to sit up. You dangle your legs over the edge of the bed and stretch your arms, but a burning pain in your shoulder makes you wince.

An icy feeling grips your heart, and you stand on shaky legs and walk over to your vanity. You pull down the collar of your shirt and stare at the ring of teeth-shaped bruises in the mirror. You brush your fingers over the marks, and you swallow thickly as his murmured promise echoes in your mind.

Next time.

[savagemickey03]

prompt: "feeling a little needy today?"

mephistopheles spoils you while he pretends he's not as greedy as you are.

pairing: mephistopheles x gn!reader

content: nsfw. making out, pet names (pet), slight degradation

word count: 0.5k

The chair creaks from your combined weight as you straddle Mephisto's thighs in the Newspaper Club office. Most of the students already left for the day, and you're not sure who else might still be in the building—who might find you like this, grinding yourself against his lap and moaning into his mouth like a whore—but you can't bring yourself to care.

A noise echoes in the hallway and you drag your lips from his to glance over your shoulder. The threat of being caught makes you nervous, but you don't want to move.

Judging by the way his gloved fingers dig into the soft curves of your ass and encourage you to keep moving against him, he doesn't seem to care about getting caught either.

"Needy is a good look on you," he murmurs hotly against your jaw, and the scorching trail of open-mouthed kisses he leaves on your skin makes you shudder.

"I haven't seen you since Friday," you whimper. "I missed you," and you wince when your voice sounds whiny and pathetic to your own ears.

He rewards your honesty with a sharp snap of his hips, and he grins when you throw your head back with a breathy moan. "Don't worry, pet. I'll take care of you." His fingers curl around your nape and pull you down into another sloppy kiss.

Your fingers clench in that stupid puff tie he wears. You're both wearing too many clothes for the friction you crave, and the lust pooling in your belly almost burns with how intense it feels.

He dips his tongue into your mouth and you flick at it teasingly with your own. He pulls away with a gasp, and the green flecks of his eyes glitter like emeralds when lust darkens his vision.

"My driver is downstairs. Would you like to come home with me tonight, pet?" he asks in a low rumble. One of his hand glides over your hip and cups the front of your pants where he can feel the warm, damp arousal pooling between your legs. "Or do you want me to fuck you here?"

Your hips roll against his hand, and it feels a little better, but it's still not enough. His filthy mouth catches you off-guard, and as tempting as it is to let him fuck you here—

—bent over the Newspaper Club president's desk, the items scattered across the floor from when he swiped them away so he can push your chest down and cage your body beneath his own—

—you know what you really want.

"Want you to take me to bed, p-please?" you stutter between gasping breaths, chasing the taste of his lips against yours. His fingers are relentless as he continues stroking you through your pants.

He kisses your temple and rubs his hand against you one more time before he gently nudges you off his lap. The obvious bulge straining against his slacks betrays his own desperation.

"Anything you want," he promises, licking his lips and revealing a hint of fang when he smiles.

read more: mephistopheles masterlist | obey me! masterlist

[savagemickey03]

sending simon a “care package” while he’s on deployment, but in lieu of non-perishable food and toiletries, you send him erotic photos and his favourite pair of your lace knickers.

he thanks you the following afternoon with a string of blurry videos of him jerking off in his bunk, muffled moans escaping clamped lips and a massive, veiny hand pumping his flushed cock.

when he comes, his meaty thighs tremble, as does the camera. you don’t see much, save for the splatter of white against his skin as he groans and sighs — a bestial thing ripped from his throat — and your knickers wrapped around him.

and when he returns from deployment, with pallor skin and sunken eyes, he leaves no room for you to question what could be wrong — because the second he enters your home, he’s forcing you against the wall and fucking your starved cunt for as long as he can manage, making up for all those precious months lost :(

masterlist <3

[savagemickey03]

Gripping onto John's pillow that reeks of his cologne, smashing your face into the pillow as your manicured nails rake down the bedsheet. John grabs your hips from behind his fingers burning and branding your skin as he grabs the fat of your hips, to bring you closer to the edge of the bed as his thighs bracket yours.

"Y'know what would be real nice love? If you finally give up the big girl act and move in with me, we both know you shouldn't be living in that old apartment- need y'here with me" John emphasizes while sliding deep inside, making room from him in the depths of your soul. One hand trailing up to your chest as he grabs a large handful of your chest rolling your nipple with his calloused fingers, toying with you since he knows you'll take whatever he gives you. "I'm moving you out of there and you'll keep my house warm when i'm on deployment huh?- i know you'd be a good girl like that. taking care of my house, my kids-FUCK" John swears as he feels you tighten under him, filling you up and pressing his furry chest into the slope of your arched back. Covering you from the cold winter night that took out all the power, your own personal heater. Even with your brain all hazy while he runs his hands down your sides, you know you might take him up on that offer.

[savagemickey03]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Matchmaking Buns: Part Two

Part One

What the bunnies look like

The evening of the promised dinner comes faster than you’d anticipated. With every passing minute, you flit from one end of the house to the other, adjusting pillows, checking on the simmering dishes, and shooing your furry “helpers” out of the kitchen for what feels like the hundredth time even if they thump at you. Between binkying across the living room, flopping lazily on the rug right on your path, and trying to sneak nibbles of any available furniture, your bunnies are in top form, thriving in their role as resident chaos agents.

Finally, the doorbell rings. You wipe your palms on your jeans, take a deep breath, and open the door, immediately greeted by four towering figures who seem somehow even more imposing in their casual clothes. Johnny’s already grinning, Kyle’s soft smile is reassuring, Price has a hint of amusement in his eyes, and Simon—well, Simon is as inscrutable as ever, though his gaze lingers on you for just a beat longer than expected.

“Welcome! Come on in and, uh, make yourselves at home. You’ll be sharing the space with the true homeowners, of course,” you say, gesturing toward the four bundles of fluff darting around underfoot, raising their heads in curiosity. “Don’t worry, they’ll give up the prime seats… eventually.”

Price chuckles, stepping into the living room as your spotted holland lop scurries past his feet. “I was almost expecting to see little bunny-sized chairs around here, the way you talk about them.”

“Careful, you’ll give her ideas!” Johnny laughs, watching as your grey Flemish giant noses around his ankle, clearly demanding a greeting. He squats down to give her a gentle scratch behind the ears, and she leans into his hand with that smug satisfaction only a beloved pet can have.

You usher everyone toward the dining table, where a spread of your best dishes awaits. You won't lie; you are extremely proud of what you'd prepared: a platter of roasted herb-crusted lamb, tender and drizzled with honey-balsamic, sits as the centerpiece. Nearby, creamy wild mushroom risotto with parmesan shavings, its earthy aroma irresistible. A vibrant salad of mixed greens, heirloom tomatoes, and crumbled goat cheese (it was a nightmare making this one with the way your bunnies were almost ready to paw-fight you for the greens). There’s also warm, crusty bread with rosemary-infused butter, and a golden vegetable gratin with layers of zucchini, squash, and potato, bubbling with creamy gruyere.

The smell of the food finally entices your bunnies to settle by your feet, eyeing the proceedings with their usual mix of suspicion and entitlement. Simon, catching sight of your mini-lop sniffing determinedly toward a bowl of the salad, picks up the bowl and sets it just out of reach with a faint smile- he has taken off the mask, and you have to tell yourself not to stare too much at how pretty he is.

“Thanks for sparing me from his wrath,” you say, laughing, after clearing your throat. “He’s usually the one ringleading all their mischief.”

The meal kicks off in earnest, and you’re surprised by how quickly everyone relaxes, including you. Price sets a warm tone, regailing you with stories while Johnny occasionally jumps in, keeping everyone laughing and chuckling. Kyle is quieter but genuinely interested, asking about the bunnies, your garden, even your job. Every now and then, you catch him sneaking tiny bites to one of your rabbits, who’s stationed at his feet, looking particularly pleased with itself.

“Looks like they’ve already trained you all,” you joke, nudging Kyle’s elbow as he hands over a piece of carrot to your flemish giant. You've been keeping an eye on them, ensuring he doesn't give them too much.

He grins back, his eyes twinkling. “Guess it’s hard to resist them when they give you those eyes, yeah?”

You sigh, directing a mock glare at your rabbits, who blink innocently back. “Tell me about it. They know exactly what they’re doing.”

As the meal goes on, you feel a shift in the atmosphere- an easiness and familiarity you hadn’t expected to find so soon. Simon is quiet, but every so often, you catch his gaze resting on you, his expression thoughtful, almost… fond. You’re not entirely sure how to read it, but each time, you feel a flutter of warmth. Price seems equally at ease, laughing and sharing stories that, more than once, have you all leaning in closer. Even Johnny, whose teasing often has you blushing, seems oddly protective, always ready to interject if you look the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Finally, as the dishes are cleared and the bunnies settle into a post-feast nap near your feet, you sigh contentedly, leaning back with a soft smile. “Thank you guys again, seriously. That rescue was above and beyond. I owe you all big time.”

Simon, who’s been absently petting your mini-lop, looks up, his gaze steady but warm. “Just watch out for them next time, yeah? Or you’ll end up owing us another dinner.” There’s a subtle tease in his tone, a faint spark of humor that catches you off guard from a man like him.

You roll your eyes, laughing as you try to brush off the warm flutter in your chest. “I suppose that’s fair. But if you all had fun tonight, maybe we could make this a regular thing?” You don't know why you suggest it, but the second the words are out of your mouth you regret them. They won't accept, this was just a "thank you and sorry for the trouble" dinner and-

Johnny’s grin is immediate, stretching wide as he exchanges a glance with Price. “You dinnae have to ask us twice, lass,” he says, his accent rolling thick and smooth. There’s a softness in his expression, a warmth that makes your cheeks flush. He winks, and you catch yourself stifling a giggle, relief blooming in your chest and making it easier for you to breathe.

After dessert (and showing them all the spots, nooks, and crannies you've made for your bunnies), they prepare to leave. Johnny gives your Flemish giant one last scratch behind her ear, and she rolls her head down to give his palm sweet little licks. Kyle leans down to scoop up your mini-lop, placing him gently back near the others, his fingers brushing yours for a moment too long. “You’ve got a good thing here,” he murmurs, smiling as he watches your sleepy bunnies pile together. “It’s nice to see someone care so much.”

Flustered, you smile back, stammering a little. “Thanks… they’re, uh, a handful, but they’re my little family.”

Simon, who’s already by the door, pauses, his gaze on you softened by some unreadable emotion. “Just keep us in the loop if they escape again, yeah?”

Your heart skips at his tone, low and almost teasing. “I’ll make sure to notify the official rescue squad.” You raise an eyebrow at him, trying to hide your grin.

As they finally step out, John turns back to you. His eyes are crinkling at the corners, and he holds your hand up to kiss your knuckles. "Next time, we'll be the ones to take you out, luvie."

Not a request, but he is simply telling you. (Un)surprisingly it has you blushing and nodding.

You watch them head down the driveway then, and for a moment, you stand there, caught somewhere between disbelief and hope. There’s an undeniable warmth in your chest, a realization that maybe this isn’t just about the bunnies after all.

When you finally close the door and glance down, four sleepy bunny faces stare up at you, blinking in unison as if to say, “You’re welcome.” Shaking your head, you scoop up the nearest one, your toasty holland lop, kissing it on the top of its soft head.

“Thanks for the assist, you little terrors,” you whisper, grinning. “Now I have a dinner to look forward to. Perfect.”

[savagemickey03]

Simon gets a message from reader while he’s on base. It’s a video. The thumbnail looks like a blurred image of a store isle

Once he has a moment to himself, he’s able to sit back and finally check out what you had sent.

The camera pans down to show yours and simon’s two year old daughter. She has half a mini chocolate muffin clutched in her little baby fist and chocolate smudges on her nose and bright pink cheeks. She’s standing, staring at something out of frame.

The camera is a bit shaky and Simon can hear you trying desperately to hide your laughter.

“Baby,” you say, “baby, look at me.” You bend down to bring the camera closer to your daughter, who only turns to look at you for a second before going back to staring at the same spot out of frame.

“Who is that?”

Your daughter raised one of her chocolate covered hands to point towards whatever it was that had been captivating her the entire video. “Daddy.”

Simon here’s more of your pained stifled laughter and the camera follows your daughter’s gaze, revealing a cheaply made Halloween grim reaper statue, with dusty purple robes, a plastic scythe, and a hilariously misshapen skull face.

He reads the accompanying texts that had followed the video.

[She just started saying “daddy daddy” over and over and it took me forever to figure out what she was talking about]

[for a second I thought, “oh is he here?”]

[Im so dense lol]

[she really misses you ]

[I miss you too]

The next text was a picture of your daughter fast asleep in her car seat. Now cleaned of chocolate, she had replaced her muffin with a giant plastic rat that she hugged to her chest like a teddy bear.

[she refused to leave without it]

Simon smiles. It had been a long time since he had a family. People who loved waiting for him to come home.

Your texts had been sent hours ago, and he felt bad about not responding all day.

[that’s unfair. My mask is made of much better materials]

[I miss you both too. If everything goes right I should be home by Monday]

[and don’t call yourself dense]

Simon thinks for a moment, something eating at him about that video

[I wish she didn’t know about the mask. I don’t want her to see me that way]

You respond quickly, making Simon feel worse about his delayed reply

[Dont worry about that honey. She’s only two, and I think she only saw you wear in mask once once or twice. She’ll forget in a month.]

[She doesn’t see you as anything other than her daddy]

[her daddy and her jungle gym]

[lol yes that too]

[Im sorry I don’t have a lot of time. I’ll try and call you tomorrow]

[ok Im heading to bed now anyway]

[goodnight I love you ❤️]

[goodnight I love you too ❤️]

[savagemickey03]

"luv.... You didn't have to do this... I thought we were doing just alright...." John says defeatedly, looking at you with betrayal

"John it's-"

"Did.... Did I not love you enough?...."

"Listen Joh-"

"Did I not do enough..."

"John I-"

"Love-"

"OH FOR GODSAKES JOHN, ITS GONNA GROW BACK"

"BUT WHY WOULD YOU SHAVE LOVE. YOUR HONEYPOTS' BARE."

or just John Motherfucking Price feeling depressed after he found out you shaved your precious hair down there

[savagemickey03]

❝His dear princess❞

☾︎✰❛❀ Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem! Reader!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jacaerys did not want you, or the vow he was bound to for life. Yet when he makes a big mistake, and potentially loses you for good. He realises just how much you meant to him.

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Bastardphobia, mentions of death and grief, kissing, marrage of convenience and grumpy X sunshine trope, Jace is down bad, flirty!reader, guilt and anxiety and happy ending;)

🪐𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: This is one of my first house of the dragon fics ever, so I truly hope it's not too bad. Jacaerys is one of my favourite characters in hotd after Alicent so I really wanted to get his characteristics and behaviour right. Also, I didn't like the way they showed his grief after Luke died, as if he just moved on after two or three days. But overall, I enjoyed writing this:)

Jacaerys was infuriated with you.

You—his betrothed, acted like you owned the castle as soon as you strutted in. Speaking with no formality and a sharpness in your tongue that only infuriated him further. And especially when you did not seem to care for his heritage, who he was. The heir to the iron throne. Yet you acted as if he didn't exist to you. As if he meant nothing to you.

A marriage pact with the martells was only one of convenience. You, a princess of dorne, he, the firstborn son of queen Rhaenyra. Yet, they were stuck in dragonstone, and needed support to match the strength of the green armies. His mother needed this arrangement more than the martells did, and you made that very clear by acting carelessly and so freely, like you were in your own home. By taunting him, sitting at the great council table with your legs on them, a coin in your fingertips and a smirk in your lips. He hated it, he hated especially how good you looked.

He hated being betrothed to you already.

Rhaenyra had told him martells were rather, open and modern people. They took part in adultery even after being married, especially with the consent of their own partner. He did not know how anyone could be okay with such acts. He did not know what to expect when he met you, but it certainly wasn't how you commented on his face, calling him one of a beauty. It was inappropriate, calling a prince by such bold remarks on the first meeting, yet you did not seem to care.

But what edged him to his limit was the day you called him a bastard.

Jacaerys had been worried, he couldn't find you anywhere. Not that he cared, he was just stressed you would create another ruckus. He looked around everywhere, the garden, the great council, the dining hall, your room, even his room, but you were nowhere to be found. His chest tightened, a restlessness growing in his stomach. It seemed he always felt that way without being with you for too long. Not because he missed you—of course, but because he wanted to ensure everything was going smoothly.

He was going around circles, head spinning with a feeling that made him uncomfortable. Where were you? did you flee the castle? or were so bored of him you went to the city to a brothel in search of another man to keep you company. Anger and jealousy filled in his chest at the mere thought of that.

Jacaerys did not seem where he was going, many thoughts inside his head, before he harshly opened a door to the library. And to his surprise, there you were, a book in your hand. ‘Adventures of Aegon the conqueror’, he could read the name of the book by how you were holding it. He felt he could breathe again. By the loud sound of the door opening your head flitted towards him. Your usual smirk growing up your lips. Something that made his heart flutter in a way he didn't want it to. He clenched his jaw, holding his fists in a tight ball.

“Where have you been?” he asks, desperate tone in his voice.

“Ah, Prince Jacaerys.” you smile, closing the book and turning your attention towards him. He hated how your eye lashes fluttered, your hair falling down in just the perfect way. “I've been gaining some Targaryen knowledge, as you can see. Since we are to be married, I thought I should know my husband's family. Don't you think?”

Husband.

That word rose heat to his cheeks, quickly clearing his throat.

“I'm not your husband.” he spoke, in a tone harsher than he intended, “At least not yet anyway.”

You smile wider, making his heart race. He was always a bit stubborn, and uptight. Yet you were always so carefree and light, always so kind with his demise. He didn't know what to make of it all. A curious look grazed upon your face, eyebrows furrowing. You sat up, walking onwards another shelf of books, lips pursued. Before looking at him.

“I have always wondered, hmm,” you say, your finger coming up to your lips, “do tell me prince Jacaerys, is it true that you were born out of wedlock?”

His eyes widened, “What did you say to me?”

You either did not notice the offend and defensiveness in his tone, or simply pretend not to. Turning to look at him, “I mean, all Targaryen children have white hair. Do they not? Even if they did not, none of your formal parents have black, dark hair like yours.”

His breath hitches, all of the insecurities he had contained in a jar of fireflies fled out the second you brought out his hair. A wall rising inside him. You were acting as if you just did not ask the most dangerous question ever. As if it did not matter to you.

“How dare you insinuate such filthy claims?!” his voice rises, almost shouting. Your eyes flicker surprise for a moment, before turning back to the usual stoic look.

“Ah, you are offended.” you state, as if he shouldn't be, “I meant no harm, my prince. I have no problem with you being a bastard. In fact, it only makes you more interesting. The thing I don't like is your distaste for the truth. One should own up to who they are.”

Bastard.

You, called him a bastard. He isn't able to speak for a moment, too tongue—tied. You....think of him this way too? you? he can't hear as you speak further, a ringing in his head. It only intensifies. Only when you start talking about dorne is when he snaps back from his haze.

“And I have thousands of brothers and sisters back in dorne, no one cares ther—”

“I don't care, what you dornish do back there, but here you don't speak to me with filths of a claim.” he grits, his voice cold, “I am the queen's son. And if I hear you say one word about that again, I will see you hanged.” his words held so much malice in them, one would believe it to be true.

Of course, he could never actually do that, the blacks needed martells armies more than ever. His mother couldn't afford them raging war at her and joining the green's side. And, he could never harm you either. It was just a baseless threat, one he said out of anger and insecurity. He immediately regretted it when he saw the look on your face; hurt. But even worse, fear. Before he could even begin to take them back, it was too late. Your spot, where you stood, was already empty.

You had seen him less and less after that. Of course, you were your usual self. Taunting and teasing him, but something was off. Something distant. He hated it. He hated how much he missed it. Your remarks, your witty replies, your cockiness. He wanted it back. He wanted you back.

Next time he sees you, it's in a completely unexpected place. Dragon—pit. He was about to ride on Vermax to patrol the skies, when he stops. There you were, sat on the hard rock, legs swinging at the edge of it and his dragon's head in your hands. You..you were feeding him. “What the hell do you think you're doing?!” he shouts, eye wide.

You turn your head to him, a smirk on your lips grows. You enjoyed the fact he was on his nerves, furious.

“What does it look like? I'm feeding this cute little angel right here.” you coo, talking to his dragon in a baby voice. Vermax was known for her temper, yet with you it magically dis—appears? a little bit inside him was flustered, heart beating faster than ever that you and his dragon, a very important part of his life, bonded flawlessly. But he shrugs it off, he has to. Flushing over you isn't his duty.

Protecting you is.

As much as he would like to deny it, you're his now. Lawfully so. And he wouldn't let anything happen to you. Especially Vermax. He wouldn't know how to live with himself if his own dragon were to be the cause of, of.. your demise. His throat burns, even the mere thought of harm coming to you feels as if he's being drowned to death. After Luke, he cannot lose anyone. Jacaerys cannot lose you. Even if that was the first thing he tried to do after meeting you. You were the most part of his frustrations yet the only thought when he's in his bed at night.

“Have you lost your mind?” he asks, his voice harsh, as if you were his child and he was scolding you for doing something childish.

“Have you had no fear? you could have died what were you even thinking?!” you falter for a moment, upon seeing the trembling of his hands and the tightness in his voice.

“Jacaerys—”

“No!” he interrupts you, “You, you could have been...do you even realise..”

Your eyes widened as he struggled to even breath, huffing for air anxiously. You quickly get up, walking towards him. He's so much inside his head that he doesn't notice your hands coming up his face, slinging through his dark curly hair. An act that slowed and claimed his beating heart down. Your soft palms make contact with both his cheeks, a peaceful shush in your voice and he finally breathes. Properly. He sighed, eyes closing as his hands came up to hold yours.

This, you, him? this felt oddly peaceful. This felt like home. Vermax watches the whole interaction with a quiet huff, turning away back to the pits. You nudge closer towards him, resting your forehead against his. Love. This felt like love. “Promise me” he starts out, his voice low and timid, “promise you will never do that again.” Instead of putting on a fight like you usually do, you nod, gently caressing his cheek. His head leaned further into your touch, putty in your hands.

“I promise.”

That, gives him great relief. “Good.”

Time seems to slow down, Jacaerys could count every freckle on your nose to cheeks, every small cut in between your knuckles or lips, every curve of smile you put on. And all the scents coming from your body that drove him crazy. You notice his lips still trembling, and above your judgement, you decide to kiss it better. He inhales a sharp breath as your lips touch his, but makes no movement to push you away. It's gentle, barely brushing against his. Jacaerys realised how they fit perfectly amidst his, and how much he was craving it all these months until he finally tasted them.

You slowly pull away, hesitantly. His eyes are still closed. Hands crawling up your waist. He speaks again, a whisper almost.

“I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

He's talking about the library, and you smiled softly, shaking your head.

“It's okay. You can't get rid of me that easily, Jace. Should have known that when you got betrothed to a dornish princess.”

You had already forgiven him. But he didn't want you to. He didn't want to be at your mercy this easily, not when he wasn't able to forgive himself. You, you had crept your way into his heart when he didn't want you to, and now he never wanted to let you go. It was all your fault.

“No I...” he shakes his head, “I never should have said that. Not only because it was so wrong but also because it was completely untrue.” Jacaerys swallows his breath, every bit of him wanted to turn away and never look back, but he couldn't do that. “I have been called names, about my heritage. Ever since I was a child. About my parenting and what not. And it's very...when anyone talks about it, it's like a bandage ripping off a new and fresh wound. No matter how many years pass by, it's still like that for me.”

You nod your head slowly, in understanding. This was raw. He had finally told you one of his darkest parts, his worst fears, and you hadn't run away.

“I understand. I should have never said that. I did not know it was like this for you.” He feels relief in your words.

But there was still something he needed to let out.

“But I...” he didn't know how hard this was for him until he started to actually say it, “I really could never mean it. What I said. Even if you have committed the worst treason or crime, even if you had taken my heart and carved it out, I still wouldn't be able to do one thing that might be even close to harming you. Believe me I have tried. And I have failed.”

He looks away from you, cheeks closing red. Jacaerys had just poured his heart out and gave it to you. But the chances of you, and feeling the same? were very dim. He sees stars when he sees you, what do you see? just him? or even worse? a filth in the name of a true born prince. A gasp leaves his lips as your fingers trace the outlines of his jaw, trailing down to his neck to his chest. You stopped at the red and black three dragons symbol made on the polish cloth he wore.

“Why do you think I agreed to this marriage? not because of this.” you point to the very symbol engraved on his chest, of the house targaryen, “If it was just for this, I certainly would have never.”

He turns his head back to you, confusion in his face. He also feels a bit of guilt in him. At first, he only agreed to this pact because his mother had no choice. Because of your house. Nothing else. And you're saying that his house didn't even matter to you when you agreed to this betrothal? then why? you did not even know what he looked like, and you simply agreed?

“Why then?”

That's the question that's now left in him. Why, if his house and title didn't matter?

“Well,” your lips curl up, a glint in your eyes, as a blush arose your cheeks, “From years I had heard stories of Targaryen princes. How arrogant and unkind they were, your cousins, Aegon and Aemond, well I certainly didn't hear anything good about them. And then you came. The velaryon prince, the son of the realm's delight, born with a kind heart and a fierceness to protect. I knew I had to marry someday, but I only agreed to marry you because I knew—you wouldn't mistreat me. Because I fell in love with the stories of the dark haired prince who had the most beautiful brown eyes ever, who protected his brother when he was a child himself, who stole my heart before he even claimed it.”

Jacaerys doesn't know what to say, his throat falls dry. It doesn't feel real, when he's wanted something so dearly and someone just gives it to him freely; it does not feel real. You do not feel real. But you are. He knows you are when your hands tug at his collar, his face close to you as you pull him towards you and your breath fanning on his cheeks. He knows this is real, and it's better than any dream he's ever had.

“I do not want our marriage to be an unhappy one.”

You say, a plea in your voice.

He smiles, wide. And he doesn't even have to make an effort this time, “For me, the words unhappy and you? well they don't go in the same sentence.”

That seals it for you, he can see that. As you kiss his words, an unspoken understanding and passion in it. Jacaerys realises he could get used to this. Kisses, hugs, reading each other books, waking by the warmth of your body besides his; in fact, there's no one else he'd rather do it by. And nothing he would want more.

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑚:) 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 ��𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛! 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒.