#“ivy's neck save me”

[sleepanonymous]

[muntitled]

Virginity Files: Enha Edition

▪︎ Summary: how Hyung Line would respond to finding out you're a virgin

▪︎ Cw: Established Relationship, nsfw, virginity kink, Heeseung's part is a little unethical, +18, Minors dni

Heeseung | 희승

Abstinence had never really been a major factor in Heeseung's philosophy. In fact, he believed quite the opposite. Always choosing to forgo self control, in favour of being passionate, hedonistic and sometimes even borderline lecherous in your relationship.

Discussions of sex would plague you early on in your relationship because sexual gratification is something Heeseung refuses to compromise on- and you look too fucking gorgeous in nothing but a simple bathrobe for him to be expected to have pure thoughts.

He kisses up the side of your neck first, with his arms encircling your waist from behind like ivy creeping along the sides of an archaic mansion. You tilt your neck, welcoming his kisses as you rub the rest of your lotion along your forearms, the smell of cocoa butter having dire effects on Heeseung's restraint.

"I could fucking eat you alive," he whispers drunkenly in your ear, causing the sharpest of gasps to leave your throat when you feel his hardened length push up against your ass.

'It's happening' you think idly to yourself as Heeseung's hands crawl up your front until they're dipping into the opening of the robe.

When his fingers make contact with your breasts you freeze and Heeseung groans as he dips his head between your neck and shoulder.

He squeezes and tweaks your nipple, his cock growing impossibly harder when he feels your nipples turn to hardened peaks.

"Fuck-" he whispers before dragging you down onto the bed. Your body is limp and unresponsive when Heeseung hovers over you, your back pressed against the comforter as he inspects the expanse of your body with his large domineering hands.

You should've known what you were getting into with a guy like Heeseung.

He lives, eats and breathes sex.

How could you ever be so dumb?

"I need to touch you," he whispers, undoing the belt of your robe.

"You'll be good for me?" He asks- but his movements stop when your hand on his, stops all movements.

"I haven't had sex yet-"

Heeseung only blinks once before flashing you that dazzling smile. "Well obviously we haven't had sex yet- that's what I'm trying to correct."

"Ever. Heeseung." You release a shaky breath. "I mean ever."

It only takes a maximum of 15 infuriating seconds before Heeseung continues to slowly undo the knot of your belt as he says, "Would it be unethical if I said I'm more hard now than I've ever been?”

Jay | 제이

The idea of sex comes pretty early on in the relationship because it's all Jay could ever think about in your presence. Sex had never been anything monumental in his previous relationships- it had always been exceedingly casual, like a mutual business transaction with both parties guaranteed to step away from the venture wholly satisfied.

But here Jay is, on his knees in front of you like a martyr at the altar.

The blazer he had worn is discarded somewhere around him but all that plagues his mind is evil, diabolical thoughts of you. He looks completely wrecked as he kisses up the sides of your legs, his dress shirt half unbuttoned with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. At the start of the evening he had looked dapper, not a single hair out of place and not a single wrinkle on the prada shirt. Ready to meet your patent.

But for you… here, he's a mess.

"What has gotten i-into you?"

You dig your hands into his hair, urging him to stand up but all he does is groan and nuzzle his face further between your thighs.

"You know how beautiful you looked tonight?” he breathes, lifting the fabric to reach more skin, “It was torture having to save face for your parents but secretly wanting to eat you out the whole the night-"

Jay punctuates his mind numbing confession by lifting the ends of your dress and ducking underneath. He hooks his fingers into the sides of your lace underwear and he pulls-

"Jay, stop-"

"Why?" His voice cracks under the weight of his own desire, and he peaks up from under your dress to look up at you with pleading eyes. "Baby, just let me taste you." Your heart shatters. "I know we haven't done anything, and that's fair- maybe you don't trust me yet- I don't know-" as Jay speaks all you can do is shake your head, "But I'm fucking attracted to my girlfriend- I need to be inside of you, I need to taste you and fuck you and hold you-"

"I'm a virgin."

Jay's rambling dissolves into complete and utter silence and you're left to watch as he sits back on his haunches, completely mystified.

"What?"

"That's why we haven't done anything- I-"

Your words of embarrassment completely dissolve in your throat once Jay ducks under the skirts of your dress once more, sending your heart into complete overdrive.

"Tonight's the night then,"

Is all he says with the mission of eating you out with absolute ardour.

Jake | 제이크

Being in a relationship with a boy made of literal prince tendencies meant there were a lot of lecherous acts that you had to coax out of him. When you and Jake first shared your first kiss under New Year's fireworks he had tenderly placed his hand on your cheek as if your skin was forged of porcelain and he muttered, "Is this okay?” Those three words haunted your relationship to the point that you feared your boyfriend saw you as less of a girlfriend, and more a fragile, precious thing he coveted.

These thoughts spin in your head as Jake rubs circles on your inner thigh through the duration of your Friday-night movie.

You couldn't focus on Toy Story 2 because Jake's large hand and its glorious callouses left nothing but goosebumps in their wake, and you're completely and utterly brimming with energy when you pause the movie to gain his attention.

"Can we kiss?" You ask.

You're not sure why you ask but this running theme of always seeking for consent I'd a habit that is difficult to shake off.

"Fuck, if I wasn't thinking about it for the passed hour," he replies before scooping you into his arms. "Get over here."

You're straddling his hips and his mouth crashes against yours, eliciting an unsteady moan from the confines of your throat.

Jake is such an eager kisser. Always eager to please.

Always eager to do good for you. It's like he was purposely trying to kiss away every other guy you may have come into contact with.

If only he knew how embarrassingly small that list really is.

"Woah- Bunny, what're you doing?" Jake's hands are still on the soft sides of your hips when you grind down against his length. You're both fully clothed but the intention of your actions is very much clear. He curls his arms around you as if urging you to stop, but his steadily hardening cock gives him away.

"F-Fuck," he curses under his breath finally relenting and choosing to lean back against the couch as you grinded down against him. He watches you with hooded eyes. "This is how you're feeling tonight, yeah?"

Your bottom lip clamps between your teeth, "Yeah..." and it completely erupts a wave of arousal in the pits of Jake's stomach.

"You want Jake to take care of you?" It's the way in which he says it, like every word had to be meticulously asked in order for you to understand the severity of the situation. It made you feel silly, and juvenile and so incredibly blissful.

"P-please," you whine, locking your arms behind the back of his neck as you grind down harder against the bulge in his pants. "I'm ready."

"What- like ready, ready." Instead of admiring how cute your boyfriend is, all you're able to do is bury your face in the crook of his neck.

"I'll take good care of you." He says eventually, with his large hand rubbing soft circles into your back. "Jake'll take good care of you..."

You need him to make you feel good and that alone has him soaring along the silver lined clouds.

Sunghoon | 성훈

Unlike the rest of Sunghoon's meticulously planned life, falling helplessly in love with you- and then your body- had been something to hit him quite unsuspectingly.

You stormed into his life, and shook up every aspect of his fully functional brain, making him question just how good of an idea it was to invite you to live with him. Seeing as you two were quickly becoming a serious ensemble, Sunghoon knew the time to solidify the relationship was quickly approaching, still, it caught him wholly by surprise when you admitted your inexperience under the soft glow of his overhead light. Wine intermixed with saliva lay on both your lips due to the sweet, drunken kisses you've exchanged on the couch. Sunghoon didn't mean to get handsy. He rarely does.

In fact, Sunghoon prides himself on his restraint when it comes to you. Seeing you, however, in this space, amongst his things, as if you were a part of his property... he lowered the wine glass onto the coffee table to swoop you into his arms.

"D-Did you hear what I said?" You felt embarrassed to have to admit to being a virgin but somehow you felt that consent was needed. Perhaps he may not be completely comfortable being made subject to the daunting task of being someone's 'first'.

"W-We don't have to do this?" You try to whisper. You try to push him away by his chest but his teeth sink into the crook of your neck drawing a heightened gasp out of the confines of your throat.

"We should get you ready first," he whispers instead, knocking all the air out of your lungs in one fell swoop. His hands glide down over your silk pyjamas until he's cupping your sex- the most private, most vulnerable parts of you. "We'll go slow." Sunghoon said with his nose still buried in your neck as he snuck his hand down your pants. You were a gasping mess, so unused to the feeling of it being someone else's hand on that particular spot.

"Just relax, Baby,"

"Sunghoon-"

"Right here," he whispered, drinking in your gasps like they were the finishing remains of crimson red wine. "I'm right here,"

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Hey, Neighbor

Masterlist

Pairing: Jason Todd x (f) Reader

Tags: NSFW, mystery, smut, oral (f receiving), sex pollen, Ivy's toxin, pwp, incorrect science (im so sorry to women in S.T.EM.), morally ambiguous Jason Todd, neighbors, nerdy reader, smoking

Chapter 4:

Jason returned home after a long evening of searching Elizabeth Islington's apartment, a sinking feeling in his gut from what he found. The most difficult thought was that he was going to have to leave you one mentor short. As he opened the door to his loft, he was met with an unexpected sight. You, one of your scarves neatly tied around your eyes, eagerly awaiting him in your pink nighty, a bright smile on your face.

"Hey..." he said cautiously, noticing the odd happiness radiating from you. "What’s with the blindfold?"

You sighed dreamily, a sound catching him him off guard. "I’ve been thinking about something, and it requires you not to wear your mask."

Jason raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He indulged, amused by your demeanor. "Alright," he said, removing his helmet and setting it aside.

Your heart raced when you heard him take afew steps towards you.

I want to kiss him. I've wanted to kiss him since the day he stepped in to save me two years ago. Being close to him these past days has been so difficult, trying to keep it together when all I wanted was to be in his arms.

You stood, taking a tentative step toward him, trying to navigate the room in your blindfold. Jason quickly closed the distance, placing a steadying hand on your arm to prevent you from bumping into the kitchen island.

You smiled up at him, your voice breathless. "I've wanted to do this for a long, long time." You whispered before wrapping your hand around his nape and pulling him down for a kiss.

The unexpectedness of your action surprised Jason, his grip on you tightening. He let himself be kissed by you. A small, sweet kiss on his lips. You laid kisses on his cheek, along the stubble on his jaw and down to his neck, running your fingers through his silky hair as he let out a gasp above you. Jason noted how your kisses were filled with the pent-up emotions, I made him eager to return the gesture.

Your hands clung to him, desperate and needy, making Jason's mind race. The softness of your lips, the desperation with which you pressed against him, was the most tempting drug. For now, he let himself be kissed, growing more passionate and urgent. The feel of your lips on his neck, the softness of your arms around him, it was everything he had imagined for the past couple of days. "What brought this on?" he let the question out in a chuckle, his voice low and rough.

You bit your lip, grasping the bottom of his shirt and hiking it up to place kisses on his abdominal muscles. "I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, Red." You said, licking his skin, unable to resist him. On your exploration, you felt places where the skin was raised, signaling his scars. Your need to know who he was behind the mask overwhelmed you. "Being close to you, to my hero, it's been so hard not to. I just... couldn't hold back anymore."

Your words faded away as his vision slowed down suddenly. The drug, the kiss, the sudden turn of events. It all rendered him powerless against the primal hunger that surged inside him.

Oh god.

He was an idiot. He was drugged. You were drugged. But that meant… had Ivy been in here? How did she get in? How did she drug... Fuck... your lips... your lips on his skin... what had he been thinking about?

He pulled you close, his lips engulfing yours, Groaning, he pulled away for a breath, leaving you whimpering at the loss of his touch. "We can't..." he said weakly, his restraint waning.

"Hmm?" You asked behind the blindfold. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders, the need to touch him, to feel his body, muscles, scars, was urgent, mixing with the pounding of your heart.

Jason was forgetting what he was resisting when you licked his nipple. “Mhmm," he groaned, the sound sending a spark of electricity to your core. "Y/n, we can't -"

You blinked behind the blindfold, utterly confused. "Why not?"

"You... hmm, I don't know..." His words were slurred though he sounded genuinely concerned as he continued. "I think... we're not... I... things."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion behind the blindfold. Then you let out a giggle. "You're funny, Red."

"Im not. Trust... me..." Jason gasped, closing his eyes before dropping his forehead to yours.

The heat in your core mingled with the fog in your mind. All you knew was you needed him. It was a primal, animalistic need, fueled by the pheromone-laden kiss.

She's a minx, a vixen, Jason thought. Against his better judgment, it excited him. He pulled you flush against him and finally allowed himself to kiss you back. You responded eagerly, hips moving as instinctively as your heart, giving into the primal hunger that had been building up within you for such a long time. His hands roamed over your body, mirroring your own. Your breath came out in short pants, as the world around you fell away in the face of his lips meeting yours, claiming you with a certainty that left you breathless.

Jason's grip on you tightened, and he lifted you onto the kitchen countertop with ease. You gasped when you felt the blindfold being lifted from your eyes. Your vision swam, adjusting to the dim light coming in from the afternoon rainclouds outside as his eyes met yours.

Deep, dark blues that you recognized right away looked at you drunkily. They consumed you. You looked into his eyes, into the eyes of the Red Hood. The eyes of your neighbor, Jason.

As his eyes bore into yours, the surprise and confusion you felt began to wither away, replaced by an undeniable realisation. It was him: the man who had been haunting Gotham with a vigilant fervour; the man who had single-handedly turned the tide of crime in favour of the residents; the man who, try as you might, had captured your imagination every night in a new fantasy.

Was this real? You wondered, your heart racing. Can this be happening?

“Jason?” You breathed, your voice trembling as his name left your lips.

You needed confirmation that the man whose lips you so desperately craved was indeed the city's guardian. "Jason?" You asked again, voice shaking with a mix of excitement and confusion as you processed the situation.

He nodded

Oh god.

It was so much to take in. Your heart was racing; you couldn't think. "Jason, oh god,"

This whole time, it's been him. He was the one. The one who saved you. More than once. The one that took you in. Who acted like he didn't know you. Who drove you insane with his touch and words these past few days.

"Oh god, please, Jason," Your whispered words burned through his mind, making him clench his teeth as his control slipped further away. He looked at you, the hunger and desire etched deeply on his face.

He moaned your name. You couldn't express how good it felt to hear it on his lips. Lowering his lips in a trail of kisses down your throat. You gripped the countertop, arching your back as a moan escaped your lips. It was like all the pieces were finally falling into place. He was your hero and savior. Your Jason.

He pulled down the top of your dress, exposing your breasts. Your nipples pebbled immediately in the cool air of the room. His lips claimed one of them flicking at its twin with his finger. Your hands gripped his hair. The toxin you were both affected by made every sensation heightened, overwhelming. Your nipples felt like two live wires, electricity coursing through them and into your core. Every flick of his skilled fingers made you moan and arch into his touch.

You've read studies about some people’s ability to reach orgasm from just nipple stimulation. But nothing could have prepared you for the way your entire body seemed to shiver at Jason's touch.

The feeling was exquisite, almost painfully so. It was as if your nipples had been directly linked to your clit, the sweet sensation of pleasure travelling down with every flick and touch of Jason's fingers and lips.

You cried out again, gripping his shoulders as you arched further against his touch.

He knew exactly what you wanted, but the need to hear you plead for him was like an aphrodisiac. He felt himself harden further, his erection straining against his underwear.

He pinched your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch up into him. The pain mingled with the pleasure of his lips on your skin, and your hands grasped at his shoulders desperately. You tried to speak once more, but it was more of a breathless gasp than anything coherent. You felt a familiar feeling as your body began to shake. "Jason, please... don't stop."

You moaned, desperately trying to grind your aching core against him. The pulsating heat and growing wetness between your thighs seemed to be a never-ending source of discomfort and need. Your hips moved instinctively, seeking relief against him. But Jason held back, placing his hands on your hips to still you. His forehead dropped to yours, and he took deep breaths, trying to regain control.

Jason nuzzled into your neck. You opened your mouth to speak, but Jason captured your lips in a searing kiss, effectively silencing you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth to tangle with yours. "Fuck, baby. Ever since I saw you on that porch..." he muttered against your lips.

"That night you moved in?" you slurred in a wisper.

"Mhmm." He nodded. "You wore the cutest little skirt. When you sat up, I could see your pink panties." His hand went under your dress. The feeling of him touching you there through your soaked underwear was too much. You bit your lower lip.

He groaned, clenching his jaw at the intensity of his want. Crouching down before you, he tugged up your silk dress. The cold air of the room ghosted over your wetness, making you shiver. Feeling his gaze locked on your exposed sex, you looked down to see him staring at you with a primal hunger that seemed to steal your breath away.

"Please..." you whispered softly, raising a hand to touch his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing as though savoring the sensation. When he opened them again, his expression was harder than ever.

Without warning, his tongue flicked out and tasted your entrance. You gasped, and your hands flew to his hair as he devoured you with hunger. Your heart raced as he held you in place, his tongue sliding against your slit. Taste of your arousal on his tongue was like a drug he couldn't get enough of. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you even closer to him as he delved deeper into the folds of your sex.

You gasped, shuddering as raw need pulsed through you. The intensity of Jason's touch was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, and your body responded instinctively. You arched your back, pressing against his mouth as your fingers tangled in his hair. When he began to lick rough circles around your clit, your body began to shake and your back arched as your orgasm took over your senses.

Carried away by the sensation, you wrapped your arms around Jason's neck, pulling him closer.

Jason gripped you tightly, breathing you in through your climax as if he never wanted to let go.

The sensation you felt was warm, desperate, and full of the pent-up emotions that had built up between the two of you.

Only... only you began to feel odd. Oddly good... like, so, so, good. You wanted to fall asleep.

Jason wouldn't have thought anything of it, he's had plenty of women falling asleep after he'd given them orgasms, and yours was an intense one at that. Only... your lips... we're turning green. A beautiful, mesmerizing shade of green. He didn't want to look away... until one voice in the back of his mind kept repeating the word "poison".

Jason sat up. He picked you up and stumbled as he carried you to the couch, laying you down. "Oh fuck, fuck!"

He rummaged through his kitchen, looking for the antidote Batman and Alfred had created for Ivy's toxin that all of the Wayne's had stored in case of emergencies.

When he finally found the vial, he first took one sip of it, knowing he'd needed it first if he was going to take care of you. Then he stumbled back to you, gently tilting the antidote into your lips. "It's okay, baby. You're okay, you're alright," He wispered as you moaned, disoriented and sleepy against him.

Since it hasn't been too long since he had been affected by the poison, the antidote took effect quickly enough. But for you, it took some more time. So Jason stayed on the couch, wrapping his arms around you as you came down from the toxin. The entire time, all that was on his mind was a hope that you'd be okay.

[msbigredmachine]

The Boy Next Door: Chapter Four

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake's masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine's masterlist

Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, violence, smut

Poster made by me. Credit to the owners of the other pics and gifs.

The first thing Ivy felt as she stirred awake was a dull, satisfying ache between her thighs. Next was the naked, muscular body enveloping her from behind, full lips brushing her shoulder. Twisting her head, she found his handsome face peering down at her, his crinkled eyes soft and his voice softer against her skin. 

"Morning, baby girl," Roman murmured, muscular arms tightening around her, “How ya feeling? You sleep good?”

Gingerly, she shifted around to face him, noting how he instinctively moved his body closer to hers, her loins clenching at the feel of his flaccid yet impressive length pressed against her stomach. “I did…after you let me,” she replied, relieved to find that the feeling in her legs had returned and her voice was still intact. “Don’t tell me you’ve been watching me sleep,” she giggled.

“I plead the fifth. You’re too beautiful not to watch, sweetheart,” he chuckled, sliding his hand down her bare back to grip her ass as his face nuzzled the crook of her neck. His touch sparked memories of their wild night; the havoc his hands and mouth and his stunning weapon of a dick wrecked on her body, his voice deep and rough and authoritative as it coaxed her through literal waves of unforgettable pleasure that had him changing his Egyptian cotton bedding afterwards:

“Your pussy feels so good wrapped around my dick…ffuuck, Ivy…”

“I love the way you moan for me, baby girl, you sound so fuckin’ sexy…”

“Haha, look at you shakin’ and leakin’, fucking up my sheets…It feels good when I'm deep like this, right, baby?”

“Relax your throat so you can take more of my dick…yeah, just like that, mmm…”

“C'mon sweetheart, let Daddy make you come on this dick one more time…”

Her eyes fluttered shut, a content sigh leaving her as Roman gently kissed her lips and rubbed his hand up and down her back. “I wanna make you breakfast…whenever we get up, of course,” he said, looking down tenderly at her features. She looked so gorgeous in his arms, her hair tousled from sex and sleep, her body soft and warm. She belonged right here with him and if he had his way, she’d never leave his bed.

As much as she longed to spend her day like this, one glance at the clock on the wall advised otherwise. "Sadly, I gotta go. Zaia and Duchess will be home soon.” Also, she would very much rather not have Gemini find her here and start another lecture like she was her damn mother.

“You can shower here to save time, get cleaned up…We did…a lot, last night,” Roman grinned, mischief dancing in his warm brown eyes.

Blushing, Ivy rubbed her nose on his chest, breathing in his scent, “We did, and my body is feeling all of it right now.”

His brows furrowed with concern. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Not at all. And either way, I wanted it.” Easing herself upright, she glanced around the room, getting a good look at her surroundings for the first time considering how…occupied they were all night. “My dress is laying somewhere and I know the zipper’s busted, no thanks to a certain someone.”

“My bad. I’ll buy you a new one. I got a spare dress shirt you can wear,” Roman offered, letting her wiggle out of his arms and the cocoon of his bed to head to his bathroom, his gaze fixated on her naked glory all the way.

His shower was spacious, the water was warm and his sandalwood body wash was gentle on her deep brown skin. Yet it still couldn’t compare to the heat that filled her body thinking about their antics last night. The line had finally been crossed. Weeks of sexual tension had given way to giving in to her sexy-as-fuck next door neighbor. Cliché in the best and worst way. The pragmatic side of her was keen to overanalyze her actions, to pass it off as scratching an itch and be done with it to be never revisited again. The other part of her, the grieving, lonely young woman, had never felt this good, never felt as wanted and desired as Roman made her feel, and she wanted more. Needed more. For her pleasure. For her wellbeing. She would deal with the emotions when she was ready to cross that bridge. If ever.

Lost in her thoughts, she did not pick up on Roman joining her in the shower until his arms circled her waist. His long hair tickled her skin as he suckled the base of her neck, his mouth widening over the sensitive spot he'd become acquainted with, big hands roaming her body with purpose. As he turned her around, her eyes naturally fell to the shaft dangling menacingly between his tree trunk-like thighs. Even semi-erect, he was intimidating as hell. But even more intimidating was the predatory look in his eyes as he invaded her space with his big strong body, the swish of his tongue making her pussy quiver as she was reminded of how he’d worked it on her and in her until she saw stars…

The memory made her knees weak, and they just about gave way entirely when he smashed his lips to hers. His chest mashed against her hardened nipples, his fingertips grazing one before curling around her throat, soft groans exhaled in unison as the now familiar heat sizzled between them. They delved into each other’s mouths, lapping and sucking sloppily, heads twisting from side to side as he kicked her feet wider apart and grinded his erection against her mound, sending a fresh flood of wetness that had nothing to do with the running water.

“I’m gonna be late,” Ivy breathed out, an absurd statement considering that her home was literally across the street. Roman thought so too, easily dismissing her half-hearted protest with a laugh as he lifted her up against the marble wall.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he groaned, silencing her with another heated kiss, keeping her trapped between the solid wall and his equally solid muscles. Her shaky moans were his oxygen as he grasped his dick and pushed it inside her, letting out one of his own as her slick heat welcomed him. He reveled in the stunned look on her face, her jaw dropping as her pussy stretched open for him, compelling him to drive into her with hard yet measured thrusts of his hips. His haughty smirk was wide as she shuddered from pleasure, her nails scraping his broad shoulders, her thighs tightening around his waist pulling him deeper into her.

“Ssshiiit, Roman…”

“That’s right, baby, call out my name while I pound this sweet pussy…”

His arm latched protectively around her waist as he walked her to his front door. As they approached the foyer, Ivy looked up at him, her heart thudding from his smoldering gaze that always seemed to reach the depths of her soul. 

“Thank you for last night…for dinner, for the dick…It was amazing,” she whispered, pushing a stray lock of his hair back into his neat ponytail. 

As her hand dropped to his chest, Roman realized he couldn't let her leave without one more kiss. Caressing her chin between his long fingers, he molded his lips to hers, savoring the taste of her, ensuring to slip her some tongue before pulling back.

“Baby, you don’t ever have to thank me. I got you. If you or Zaia need anything, let me know. If you need to talk…or fuck…” he added slyly, Ivy gasping into his chest as he squeezed her ass, “Or both…just ask. I don’t care what time it is. Call me and I’ll be there,” he promised.

One of the perks of mutual attraction was the insane chemistry between the two parties. Having lacked this for years had almost made Ivy forget how good it felt to want and be wanted. How it felt for just one look to make her heart pound and set her body on fire. For her senses to be awakened with one touch. The butterflies, the schoolgirl-like giddiness…Roman reignited all of that in her in just a matter of weeks.

Having her all to himself seemed to unleash something in him too. Unearthed a sexual spontaneity and adventure that Ivy hadn’t experienced since her college days. Nowhere was too risky and no position was off limits; Perched on the sink in the tiny restroom of a diner, her moans hushed and his thrusts deep. On a deck chair by his pool, her legs on his shoulders, leaving her a sopping, sobbing mess. On all fours in the backseat of his Range Rover in the hospital’s parking garage, the fear of getting caught evaporating with each luscious plunging stroke inside her. Her pussy was his for the taking. Sex with him was so intense and breathtaking that she couldn’t help but wonder where he’d been her whole life.

“So are y’all dating now?”

Startled, Ivy glanced up from her phone so fast, whiplash was in her near future. She cast a nervous glance around the spa's relaxation lounge. It was empty and quiet save for the serene background music and the soothing trickle of a water fountain nearby. But for all Ivy cared, Gemini had uttered the question with a megaphone. "Do you have to be so loud?" she yell-whispered, quickly putting her phone away.

Picking up her complimentary glass of champagne, Gemini shrugged nonchalantly. "What? I'm just asking a question. You’re going on dates. You’re fucking, and the dick is obviously top tier cuz look how big your smile is from just texting him. And the feeling’s mutual, cuz your pussy got that man paying for your hair, your nails and this spa session.”

“Oh my god,” Ivy groaned, the clay mask on her face preventing her from burying her head in her fluffy white bathrobe from sheer embarrassment.

Ignoring her reaction, Gemini leaned back in her lounge chair to observe her best friend. “Look, Ivy. I’m glad you’re getting your back broke the way you deserve, girl. I really am. But I still can’t help but think you’re moving really fast with Roman.” 

On closer introspection, Ivy would agree. From the outside looking in, she was letting another man slot into the vacancy Angelo had opened up with his passing. But no one knew her life, especially not his mother Gloria, who still had nothing nice to say about her or Roman since confronting them at her son’s funeral. If only Ivy gave a shit. The woman turned a blind eye to everything her son put her through, thus, her opinions didn’t matter. No one was going to dictate how she grieved or moved on or how to raise her daughter and that was that.

And it wasn’t like she was moving on with Roman. She just felt so…connected to him. Long before they became two bereaved souls that lost their life partners in tragic circumstances. Plus, it wasn’t even all about the sex. He tapped into her desire for comfort and companionship that had eluded her since her relationship with Angelo collapsed. And unlike her ex, Roman appreciated her, and it was evident in the way he treated her. Making her laugh when she was having a tough day. Checking in on her regularly. Talking with her for hours and listening to her. She liked listening to him too; the stories he shared about growing up in Pensacola, Florida, the way his eyes lit up discussing his family with so much love and adoration. And then there were his other little thoughtful gestures; the care packages with soothing teas, bath salts, scented soaps and candles. The playlist of songs that “remind me of you” as he had named it on Spotify. Bouquets of flowers delivered to her workplace that had her fellow nurses ooh-ing and ahh-ing, not excluding her boss, Lilian. 

“Whoever this man is, do not let him go,” the Head Nurse had advised as she admired the soft pink roses perched on Ivy's desk. 

She didn’t plan to. Not when he was hitting every sweet spot she owned, literally and figuratively. Maybe Gemini was right. Maybe she was dickmatized. But she couldn’t really be blamed, could she? Roman was a smart, sexy man with a soft side and a protective nature that she found extremely appealing and was drawn to. 

“You’ve zoned out on me again.” Gemini’s voice cut into her thoughts. “You are dickmatized, girl. The sex is that fire, huh?”

Yes! Ivy thought, a small smile on her face as she tried to articulate her feelings. “It’s not just that. He’s been…really good to me, Gem,” she confessed, sipping pensively on her mimosa. “I feel like grief has kinda brought us together in a good way. Like it was meant to happen like this. Yeah, he’s…passionate. And I know you’re worried about his temper. But he’s been so gentle with me. He’s attentive. Affectionate. He…cares. And it feels good. Really good,” she went on, her eyes fixed imploringly on her best friend as though trying to plead her case. 

Gemini was silent as she took in Ivy’s assessment, the skepticism on her pretty features slowly melting into sympathy. “Well, in your defense, you do look…happy,” she admitted, “Happier than I’ve ever seen you with Angelo or anyone else. But I won’t stop begging you to keep your eyes open, babe. It won’t speak well of me as your friend if I don’t.” She was yet to find anything on Roman other than the fact that he had no social media presence of any kind. Odd as that was, it wasn’t a crime. Gemini truly wanted to believe she was overreacting about him, but her gut pushed her to keep looking just to make sure, for Ivy’s sake at least. And she would. Ivy didn’t need to know. If there was indeed nothing, she would let it go and forget all about it. “Angelo just passed. Your emotions are elevated. It’s okay to take things slow and not rebound so quick.”

Ivy pleaded the fifth on that. He was a welcome distraction from losing Angelo. A reprieve from her other reality of coming home and finding traces of her child’s father around the house. He never got round to taking all of his belongings with him when she kicked him out for good, which meant she was still kicking up the occasional item of his here and there that brought fresh waves of sadness each time. 

But no one was taking his death harder than Zaia, who had essentially abandoned her bedroom for her mother’s. More heartbreakingly, she was crying in her sleep almost every night, calling out for her daddy. Ivy was worried and planned to book an appointment with her pediatrician, Dr. Zayn. 

Again, Roman came to her rescue, arranging movie nights with her daughter, the two of them cuddling up on her couch and bonding over buttered popcorn and Disney’s iconic characters. As Halloween approached, Roman joined them in decorating not just her yard but his own as well, creating a festive atmosphere that brought joy to their little community. He even took them on an outing to Dave & Buster's, where his playful and attentive interaction with Zaia stood out. It was quite heartwarming how hands-on he was with her little girl; he would make a great father someday.

Ivy knew he was only trying to help; in no way did she expect him to replace Angelo because he never could. No one could. That was Zaia’s daddy, no matter what. And though Ivy acknowledged that she may like Roman a little more than the boundaries of mere physical attraction permitted, she knew better than to let those feelings cloud her judgment when it came to her baby. Angelo would always be a part of her life. She hadn't completely shoved him all the way to the back of her mind, but at least he no longer dominated her every thought. It was getting better, and better was better than worse.

An attendant entered the ladies’ space and set a tray of assorted fruits on their table. Gemini snatched up a strawberry and dropped it into her drink. "Anyway, you're gonna be at my party, right?" she asked, “What are you wearing?”

Gemini’s annual Halloween party was a highlight of the social calendar year, and it made Ivy cringe to know she’d forgotten about it. “Fuck. I’ve been so busy with work and everything else that I haven’t thought about it. I only got Zaia sorted out for her trick-or-treat party. I’ll find something for myself this week.”

“Good. Can’t wait to see what you do this year. Your Storm cosplay last year was fire.” A long, tense beat crawled by before Gemini cleared her throat, her next words tentative and begrudging. “You can bring Loverboy along, if you want,” she grumbled.

Smiling, Ivy raised her champagne flute to her lips. “I’m sure he’d like that. I want you to get along with him. No more tiptoeing around another man in my life.” Sitting upright, she moved in for the kill. “And what about the man in yours anyway, huh? Officer Hayes, hmm? If you don’t focus on that fine ass man and leave me alone…”

Eyes wide, Gemini avoided her friend's teasing gaze. “Ion know whatchu talkin’ about.”

“Sure you don’t,” Ivy smirked.

Nobody threw a party quite like Gemini Beaufort. Her Halloween bashes were the stuff of legend, with an over-the-top grandeur that seemed to escalate with each passing year. By the time October’s final night arrived, the anticipation was palpable. Securing an invitation to her party was almost as difficult as getting into an elite club. Hosted in the grand, sweeping mansion that had been in her family for decades, attending a Beaufort party was a badge of honor in this town, an unspoken acknowledgment that you were now part of Hartford’s elite.

Hand in hand, Roman and Ivy climbed the winding stone steps. The dark silhouette of the house framed the towering trees draped in cobwebs. Skeletons hung from the eaves, their bony hands outstretched in eerie welcome, while carved, glowing pumpkins lined the path like sentinels guarding the front door. Fog rolled across the ground, and a ghostly figure swayed in the breeze, making the mansion feel like something out of a haunted tale.

As they neared the entrance, Ivy noticed Roman fidgeting with his costume. He was dressed as Aquaman, the golden, two-piece spandex clinging to his chiseled body like a second skin, his trident gleaming in his hand. But despite the impressive Jason Momoa-esque look, Roman seemed uncomfortable, adjusting the tight fabric around his torso. “You good, babe?” she questioned.

“I don’t know, Ivy,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “This thing is skintight. I feel…exposed. Like it’s showing everything.”

His nerves were a sharp contrast from Ivy’s, looking effortlessly stunning in her Clovers cheerleader uniform from Bring It On, the iconic green, yellow and gold ensemble accentuating her curves. She smiled softly at him, her eyes warming. “Well, it’s showing all the right things,” she joked, biting her lip when he frowned. “Relax. You look great. Like you just stepped off a movie set,” she reassured him.

Roman exhaled sharply, his gaze shifting toward the house where the party raged on inside. “It ain’t the outfit,” he admitted. “It’s more of the people, I think. I’m not…great with crowds.”

Ivy’s smile grew, her heart softening at his vulnerability. She had seen this side of him before—strong but uncertain. Needing assurance. “Remember how you stood by me at Angelo’s funeral? You defended me in a room full of strangers,” she reminded him. “Well, I’m gonna do the same for you tonight.” She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “You look sexy as hell, babe. You’ll be fine, because we’re in this together. And if all else fails, we’ll just drink the night away.”

At that, Roman’s posture relaxed, the tension eased. He smiled at her, his expression grateful. “You right. Thanks, baby.” He paused, the gratitude in his eyes shifting to something else as he looked her over. “You look beautiful, by the way. Really beautiful,” he drawled, licking his lips. “You sure we can’t go back home and have a party of our own?”

“Down, boy,” Ivy giggled, swatting his creeping hand away as she glanced toward the door. The brass knocker had been replaced with a creepy, oversized spider, its legs curled around the handle. With a deep breath, she stepped forward and grabbed it to knock.

The door swung open, the soft creak of the hinges drowned out by the thumping bass of music from inside. A wide smile lit up Gemini’s face as her eyes fell on Ivy, her jaw dropping as she took in her outfit.

“Ivy! Girl, you look incredible!” Gemini’s voice rang out with warmth, her own costume, a curvaceous Lola Bunny from Space Jam, hugging her voluptuous shape enticingly. The white crop top, matching shorts, and knee-high socks paired with her signature bunny ears made her look every bit like the cartoon character. “I’m so glad you made it!” She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Ivy in a tight hug, the scent of lavender and cinnamon swirling between them.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ivy grinned. “You woulda beat my ass anyway if I did.”

Gemini stepped back, eyes flicking over Ivy’s shoulder, her smile faltering at the towering figure behind her, his sharp features and easy smile that seemed just a little too practiced. He was dressed as Aquaman—predictable. Her eyes lowered to his hand on the small of Ivy’s back, possessiveness radiating from the man that the attorney was yet to warm up to. But she was quick to recover, plastering on a welcoming smile.

“Hi, Roman,” she said coolly, stepping aside to let them in. 

“Hey, Gemini,” he replied smoothly, his voice cheery as he looked around. “Thanks for inviting me. You have a lovely home.”

“Thanks,” Gemini answered. “I’m glad you both could come. It’s gonna be a fun night.”

The entire space of the mansion’s grand foyer had been transformed, an intricate web of cobwebs draping the walls, bats dangling from the ceiling, and pumpkins carved with jagged smiles glowing from every corner. The scent of mulled cider and spiced pumpkin filled the air, the low hum of conversation and laughter drifting in from the next room. Before they parted ways, Gemini’s eyes met Ivy’s again with that disapproving look that Ivy was starting to tire of. In turn, her eyes narrowed, a subtle, silent warning. Roman, however, seemed oblivious to the tension, scanning the room with that same cautious gaze. Watching them slip further into the crowd, Gemini’s eyes lingered on the big man and suppressed a sigh, deciding to focus on the party. Tonight wasn’t about him. It was about having fun, celebrating with the people she cared about, and being a good host. 

The vibrant energy soon took over, the lights, the laughter, and the familiar hum of a good time. Ivy showed Roman around, introducing him to other neighbors and a few other friends of hers, including local cops Officer Gable and Officer Hayes, the latter looking spectacular in his Killmonger armor. Dinner was a vibrant mix of the ordinary and the macabre. Alongside the classic chicken, beef, and vegetarian dishes, the buffet featured quirky options like graveyard chocolate pudding cups, bloody finger hot dogs and cheesy pizza skulls. The bar added a playful twist, serving drinks in boozy blood bags and Jell-O shot syringes, alongside cocktails inspired by iconic horror villains like Freddy Krueger, Michael Myers and Chucky.

At the table, conversation flowed freely, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Ivy sat sandwiched between Roman and Raquel, a paralegal at Gemini’s law firm.  The hostess herself claimed the head seat, with Officer Hayes right next to her. Ivy noticed how Carmelo had stuck close to Gemini all evening. It wasn’t subtle, and Ivy was certain they were sleeping together. They were undeniably cute, even if Gemini would never admit it. Ivy smirked to herself, already planning how she’d tease her friend about it later.

She turned her attention to Roman, checking on him. He’d been quiet, not saying much, listening to other people’s chatter as he picked at his food. “How’s your food? Good?” she asked, eyeing up his half-eaten plate of shrimp fried rice and garlic butter salmon.

Roman nodded, leaning close to her, “It is. But I’d rather be eating something else cuz it looks so fucking good.”

Before she could ask him to clarify, he snuck his hand under the table to rest it on her leg, moving it along her inner thigh.

"Roman!" Ivy hissed, shocked at his boldness. Surely he wasn't going to try to do what she thought he wanted to do in the presence of all these people, dimmed lighting or not. Her eyes widened as Roman tugged her panties to the side, teasing her folds with his fingers, gathering the growing wetness.

At that exact moment, Raquel decided to steer the conversation to them, leaning forward on the dining table with a sly grin. “So, Nurse Jones, we see you’ve been scooped up by the handsome new neighbor over here,” she teased, her voice brimming with curiosity. “Tell us all about it. How did this beautiful union happen?”

Ivy opened her mouth to answer, but any attempt at forming a coherent thought was derailed by two thick, long fingers suddenly plunging into her, sending shockwaves all over her body. Grabbing his wrist under the table, she struggled to keep a straight face, a sharp contrast from Roman as he stepped in smoothly. “It’s pretty straightforward, really. I came over to hers, asked to borrow some sugar, and she gave me a cookie recipe along with it. The rest, as they say, is history,” he announced, his voice warm and effortlessly charming.

The table erupted into a mix of laughter and ‘aww’s. Ivy’s flushed features were for a far less innocent reason than his sweet comment as she shot Roman another warning look. He merely raised an eyebrow as if daring her to lose her composure, his signature smirk firmly in place as his fingers pumped inside her, making her squirm in her seat as she fought to suppress her moans.

A clueless Raquel nearly spilled her wine as she clutched her stomach. “A cookie recipe! Classic! That’s so cute,” she exclaimed.

Carmelo chimed in next, his tone gentle but curious. “And Zaia? Has she taken to you?” His eyes flicked to Ivy, aware that her little girl had been the center of her world since day one.

Roman’s countenance shifted then, the playful air giving way to something softer, more sincere. “Zaia is the sweetest little girl,” he said, his voice unwavering. “She’s so smart, and she has her mama’s kind heart. I’m blessed to get to know her. Ivy’s an amazing mother. It’s been a tough year for me, and I’m so glad I’ve met them, and all of you as well. I can tell that this town will be good for me.”

The warmth emanating from him seemed genuine, and even Carmelo appeared won over. There were murmurs of approval around the table, heads nodding in silent agreement.

But not everyone was convinced. Gemini sat quietly, her glass of wine untouched, her sharp eyes flickering between Roman and Ivy. Unlike the others, she wasn’t laughing or nodding. Her arms were crossed loosely over her chest, her face a careful mask that betrayed nothing except a slight tension in her jaw.

As Roman continued to field questions and charm the room, she remained silent. Her piercing eyes took in every word, every gesture, every touch. Something about him just did not sit right with her. His words felt just a little too smooth, too charming, his timing just a little too perfect.

The others were too busy to notice Gemini’s quiet skepticism, but Ivy could feel it, even if she wasn’t looking her way. She could only imagine her indignation if she knew that Roman was currently fingering her under the table. She forced a smile as Raquel launched into another question, fighting the urge to scream as her orgasm loomed. But right as she made it to the brink of euphoria, Roman stopped, pulling his fingers out of her.

“We’ll finish this later,” he growled, kissing her cheek and patting her thigh, refocusing on his food like nothing happened.

Infuriating.

Intoxicating.

After dinner, the guests gathered in the cozy, candlelit den. The fire crackled warmly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows over the room. Lounging on plush armchairs and sprawling rugs, the drinks continued to flow and loosen people up more and more. Someone had started a risqué game of “Truth or Dare,” but Roman seemed uninterested in the group activity, his attention wholly fixed on Ivy.

Her seat was his lap, her laughter chiming through the room as someone recounted a particularly embarrassing dare. Roman’s arm remained draped possessively around her waist, his fingers idly tracing circles on her hip. His gaze, though lighthearted, was sharp and territorial, shooting silent warnings at anyone who dared look at Ivy for more than a fleeting moment. Most irritating of them all was Damian, a mutual friend of Gemini and Ivy’s whom Roman noticed had been eyeing her up all evening, seated next to them in a gaudy vampire rockstar getup as he made conversation with her. Then for some reason, he dared to address Roman himself, nodding in his direction. “Hey, great costume, man,” he complimented.

Plastering a plastic smile on his face, Roman leaned forwards, his tone deceptively casual as he responded loud enough for the entire room to hear, “Thanks man. Ya know, I almost didn’t bother with a costume this year. I considered dressing up as a homicidal maniac.” He paused, letting the room go still for a moment before adding with an airy laugh, “Ya know, cuz they look like anybody?”

The room’s energy froze for a beat, the humor landing awkwardly. A few people exchanged uneasy glances. Damian looked flabbergasted.

Roman clapped his hands together, his grin widening as if to erase the tension. “Come onnnn, relax, people! Lighten up! Anyway, I think I nailed the Aquaman look, right?”

Laughter rippled through the room, hesitant at first, but it grew louder when Roman flashed his megawatt smile and raised his drink. The moment passed, but Gemini wasn’t laughing. From her seat on Carmelo’s lap, she studied Roman with narrowed eyes, her suspicions too great to hold in any longer.

A little while later, as guests migrated to refill their glasses and raid the buffet table for more snacks, Gemini saw her chance. She waited until Roman wandered into the kitchen alone and followed him from a distance.

“Roman,” she said, her voice sharp and deliberate.

He turned, his smile immediate but calculated. “Gemini! What’s up? Great party-”

“What kinda creepy ass comment was that, huh? Homicidal maniac? Really? After everything that’s been going on in this town? Could you show your ass anymore out there?” she accused.

“I was just trying to be funny. Sure, it didn’t hit at first but I think I recovered. If my joke was perceived as offensive then I-”

“Cut the shit,” Gemini snapped, stepping closer. Her voice was low but firm, her eyes boring into his. “I’m a goddamn attorney, Roman. Your passive-aggressive bullshit don’t work on me. I see through it, and I see right through you. You’re not who you pretend you are. I can feel it. You’ve got Ivy and everybody else fooled, but I’m not buying it.”

Roman’s smile didn’t waver, but it shifted into something colder, crueler. He leaned casually against the counter, swirling the drink in his hand. “Ivy is a grown woman, Gem,” he said, his tone almost too calm. “A mother, with her own family. Something you don’t have, and with that attitude, you probably never will.”

Gemini’s composure faltered, just for a second, at the scathing jab. Roman caught the slip-up like a cat catching a canary, and his smile widened, his voice softening mockingly. “I’m sure Ivy can make her own decisions without her lawyer friend hovering around.” He took a step closer, his voice dropping. “I’ve tolerated your hostility long enough. But let me give you some friendly advice, sweetheart. You don’t wanna get on my bad side, ever. I promise you that.”

Before Gemini could retort, the sound of approaching footsteps made them both pause. Ivy appeared in the doorway, her brows furrowed in confusion as she took in the tense scene.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, her gaze darting between the two of them.

Gemini straightened, her tone as lighthearted as possible. “Just having a chat with your boyfriend.”

Roman immediately softened, his expression shifting into one of wounded innocence. “I think I’ve upset her somehow,” he said, his voice laced with regret. “I’m not sure what I did but whatever it is, I’m sorry, Gemini. That wasn’t my intention at all.”

Stunned by his complete 180, Gemini opened her mouth to respond, but Ivy got there first. “Gemini, can I talk to you for a second?” she spoke, more a demand than a request.

Roman stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll leave you two to it,” he said smoothly, pressing a light kiss to Ivy’s cheek before slipping away.

As soon as he was gone, Ivy turned on Gemini, her eyes blazing. “What the fuck is your problem?!”

“My problem?” Gemini shot back. “I’m trying to protect you, Ivy! I don’t trust him, and you shouldn’t either!”

Ivy’s shoulders sagged slightly, exhaustion and grief creeping into her demeanor. “I don’t need this from you right now, Gem. I’m barely holding it together after Angelo, and Roman…Roman’s been there for me in a way no one else has.”

“Exactly!” Gemini said, her tone urgent. “Don’t you think it’s a little too convenient? He shows up out of nowhere, swoops in while you’re at your most vulnerable, and suddenly he’s everywhere in your life? Doesn’t that raise any red flags for you?”

Ivy’s jaw tightened. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m not Angelo. I’m not a case you need to solve, Gemini. I’m a grown ass woman and I can decide who I want in my life. Roman’s good to me and Zaia. That’s all that matters.”

Gemini stared at her, her frustration mounting. “You’re not seeing the whole picture, Ivy! Please, just—”

“Enough!” Ivy snapped, stamping her foot angrily. “You’re always looking for problems where there aren’t any! Roman’s done nothing but protect me and be there for me! Just cuz you don’t trust anyone doesn’t mean I'm the same!” She trailed off. Reeled her temper back in. Ignoring the hurt in her best friend's eyes, she addressed her with a clipped and cold tone. “I’m only gonna say this one time. Stop trying to interfere in my life. If you don’t, I might have to reevaluate our friendship.”

Gemini’s eyes widened. “And what does that mean?”

“Figure it out. You’re the one who knows everything,” Ivy bit back, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Over a nigga you just met?” Gemini shook her head in disbelief. “Wow, Ivy. Wow.”

Ivy stood her ground. “I said what I said. All I know is I can’t go on like this. This constant back and forth with you. I’ve made up my mind about Roman and clearly, so have you.” She shrugged. “The only difference is I don't care what you think anymore.”

Gemini swallowed the lump in her throat as Ivy turned and walked away, leaving her alone in the kitchen. She exhaled shakily, gripping the edge of the counter. Roman’s words kept echoing in her mind, chilling and deliberate. 

You don’t wanna get on my bad side, ever.

Gemini wasn’t scared of his threats. But she was more certain than ever: Roman was hiding something. And she wasn’t going to stop until she found out what it was.

Ivy stormed out of the kitchen, her sneakers pounding against the hardwood floor. She pushed her emotions down, forcing herself to breathe evenly, to shake off the lingering sting of her gut-wrenching argument with Gemini. The music from the den grew louder as she approached, but it all felt like static compared to the turmoil in her chest.

Roman spotted her immediately. He was lounging against the wall near the fireplace, sipping from a glass of bourbon, his Aquaman costume catching the firelight. His sharp eyes tracked her as she neared him, his expression shifting into one of concern.

“Hey,” he said softly, setting his drink down. He reached for her hand, pulling her close. “You okay? What happened back there?”

Ivy avoided his questioning stare, her expression tight. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just…I want to leave.”

Roman frowned, tilting his head. “Leave? Why?”

“Because,” she said, her voice faltering, “I’m not in the mood anymore. Gemini…She thinks she knows everything! She’s just trying to protect me, but I can’t deal with it right now. I don’t want to ruin your night, Roman.”

“Ruin my night?” Roman chuckled, the sound low and warm. He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “Baby girl, don’t let her ruin your night. This is meant to be fun. You deserve a break…you’ve been through so much.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts,” he interrupted, firmly but kindly. “Stay. Forget about her. I’ll handle her if she steps out of line again, okay?”

Ivy hesitated, her eyes searching his face. Something about the way he looked at her—the unshakable confidence, the way he made her feel grounded—settled the tension in her chest. She nodded slowly. “Fine. Get me a drink. A strong one.”

Roman’s lips curled into a pleased smile. “Comin’ right up,” he said, kissing her softly before heading off to do as she asked.

Deeper into the night, the party reached a fever pitch. The music thumped louder, a sultry beat that made the air feel electric. Ivy, emboldened by her third cocktail, shepherded Roman to a corner, away from the makeshift dance floor in the center of the room. Backing up on him, her movements were fluid and teasing, her body swaying to the rhythm of Chris Brown and Davido’s “Sensational”. Her head tilted back, her laughter loud and uninhibited, her eyes locked seductively on Roman’s. He gripped her hips, pulling her flush against his crotch, biting his lip as she bent at the waist to grind on him, her ass gyrating obscenely against the thick bulge of his erection. A low groan slipped from her lips when he yanked her back upright, brushing her hair out of the way to nuzzle her neck, his mouth hot and greedy on her heated skin.

The other guests watched, some whispering to each other, some pretending not to notice. Ivy was putting on a show and she knew it. Her grief, her frustration, her lingering anger with Gemini—all of it melted away as she lost herself in the music and Roman’s presence. Turning around, she wound her arms around his neck and captured his mouth with hers, absorbing the alcohol lacing his tongue. His hands traveled underneath her little skirt, grabbing and squeezing her ass cheek in large handfuls, his body rocking with hers in time with the music. 

Roman leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “You’re full of surprises tonight, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone heavy with amusement���and something darker.

Eyeing him through her long lashes, her hand trailed down his chest, her touch deliberate as she stroked his visible hard-on through the stretched fabric of his costume, loving the feel of him throbbing in her hand. 

“I need you. Need your dick inside me,” she whispered to him, lust simmering in her brown eyes.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Roman cupped the nape of her neck, his lips brushing her ear. “Where’s Gemini’s bedroom?” 

Ivy froze for a half-second, caught off guard by his question. She pulled back slightly to look at him, a curious smirk tugging at her lips. “Why?”

His grin was devilish, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Where better to fuck you than right under her nose? Let her hear just how much you need me.”

Ivy’s heart raced, a mix of exhilaration and nervousness and alcohol twisting in her stomach. She glanced around the room, the other guests oblivious to their conversation, and then back at Roman. He was watching her expectedly, intently, his darkened eyes filled with a dangerous kind of charm.

“You nasty motherfucker,” she slurred, her full lips curved into a wicked, excited grin.

Roman leaned in, crushing his mouth to hers, his kiss laced with carnal, tantalizing promise. “Only for you, baby girl.”

Without further hesitation, she grabbed his hand and dragged him off the dance floor. As they disappeared from view, the music continued to pulse, the party continuing without them.

They stumbled up the staircase, Roman watching her ass sway from side to side as she moved. He made an impatient sound and swiftly scooped her into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way up. Giggling drunkenly, Ivy tucked her face in the thick column of his neck, licking that one protruding vein that made her crazy for him. “You smell so good, handsome,” she purred, latching her mouth to his throat with an almost vampiric hunger, her clit pulsing in anticipation for the naughtiness about to transpire.

“Which door?” asked Roman.

“Last one on the right,” she murmured, wiggling out of his grasp and mildly surprised to find the door open as she turned the knob and dragged him inside. Roman looked around with a raised eyebrow at the spacious master bedroom, sleek and organized and fitting for an uppity bitch like Gemini. His gaze cut back to the sexy little MILF before him, her dark eyes glazed and stormy, her ample chest heaving in shallow breaths. He eagerly closed the gap between them, his hands finding her hips and yanking her to his chest. Cupping his bearded face, Ivy pulled him in, her mouth meeting his with heated eagerness. Roman maneuvered them to the bed and shoved her onto it face-first, his eyes blazing as he ogled her exposed derrière.

“So fucking sexy. The things I wanna do to you in this little ass skirt,” he murmured, his hands all over her ass, smacking the plump cheeks. “Come here, baby, let Daddy give you what you need.”

In what felt like record time, she was on her hands and knees on Gemini’s king bed, her back arched, panties tugged to the side, deep, powerful backshots making her scream Roman’s name into the comforter lest all the guests downstairs would find out exactly they were up to in here.

“You feel that dick, baby girl? You like that?” asked Roman. His body weight damn near had her face disappearing into the bed. Flat on her chest, ass in the air, barely able to keep her eyes open as he dug her out from behind, forcing his dick deeper into her with tantalizing rolls and snaps of his hips. 

“Shit…I feel it, oh fuck!” Ivy cried, wanton, breathy pants punched out of her by his dizzying length and girth tunneling in and out of her, nudging against her g-spot, right where she wanted it. Fuck, he was so deep!

He liked that she couldn’t seem to control her noises because she was taking him so fucking well, his pelvis smacking loudly and lewdly against her ass, a mesmerizing sight. He grabbed the soft flesh, using his strong grip to rock her back and forth on his dick, making her meet his deep thrusts. Her pussy was so wet that it lathered the entirety of his cock, dripping down her inner thighs and onto the sheets. “Mm-hmm, make a mess on my big dick, baby. Getting fucked on your bestie’s bed like a nasty slut…You love this shit, don’t you,” he taunted her, wrapping his fist around her pigtails and using them as a steer, controlling her. 

“Yes, I love it…unnh, fuck my pussy, baby, don’t stop!” She was definitely under a liquor spell that had her talking and acting reckless tonight. This was one of the few reasons she didn’t drink much. No way in her sober mind would she have agreed to desecrate her best friend’s bedroom like this.

But right now she didn’t want to think about Gemini or anything else except the feel of this hot, big man and his even bigger dick all up in her like it was now.

Sitting up straighter, Roman pulled out and flipped her roughly onto her back. Climbing into the bed, he yanked her closer to him and hoisted her shaky legs up on his shoulders. Ivy tried not to scream at the maddening, deliberately slow wind of his hips as he forged his way back inside her. 

"Awww, right there," she whimpered, head thrown back, her mouth falling open in ecstasy, "Oh my god, your dick feels so good..."

Roman grunted, weaving his hands inside her top to massage her breasts. “Been wantin’ to fuck you all damn night.” He groaned as her walls clung to his dick, squeezing every inch as he maintained his pace, keeping up his relentless strokes inside her pussy. So wet, so warm and tight, a wonderful sensation. “Shit, this pussy too good. You’ve put a spell on me, baby girl. I can’t stop thinkin’ about you, day and night.” He bent down to lash his tongue inside her mouth, his eyes filled with a fire that matched the burning in hers. 

“You belong to me,” he growled in a dark and possessive whisper, his fingers shifting downward to play with her pussy. “You’re mine. Your pussy is mine. Forever. You understand me?” 

“Yes, baby,” Ivy moaned back to him, delirious, her body on fire, the flames fueled by his other hand gripping her throat, applying a little pressure as the bed shook and rattled under the strain of their coupling. Above her, Roman’s eyebrows knitted, his hold on her tightening as for a brief moment, his vision blurred, distorted, and suddenly, it was Gemini lying beneath him instead, her eyes wide and bulging with sheer terror, the light in them slowly fading away as he choked the life out of her.

The image, so vivid and palpable, made him fuck Ivy harder. Squeeze her neck tighter.

She was a moaning, mewling, soaked mess underneath him, her essence smeared all over both their lower regions. Overwhelmed by the thrill, the pleasure, the power of his deadly thrusts absolutely ruining her sweet spot. This was exactly how he wanted her, powerless and compliant to his will, and there was nothing she could do about it, nor did she want to. She looked into his eyes, his gorgeous face twisted in an erotic mix of concentration and pleasure. Her nails dug into his broad back, keeping him close. Body to body, skin on skin. So good; he felt so good on her, in her, and she was on the verge of explosion.

“I’m gonna come,” she whined, her breaths joining his in bursting expulsions of air as he pounded her into Gemini’s mattress. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as she came apart, her body convulsing from the orgasm to end all orgasms, robbing her of all her senses. She was all nerves and sensation as Roman continued pumping into her at blistering speed, gasping and growling against her sweat-slick skin. 

“Let me come in you,” he beseeched her with a sloppy, tongue-laden kiss, groaning at the feel of her rubbing the firm flesh of his backside, amplifying the already intense sensations coursing through his massive frame. 

"Come in me, Roman. I want all your cum," she encouraged, her fingers tangling in his long locks to anchor him to her, inhaling his sweat-slick, sweet scent. A feeling like this could never be replicated—this animalistic passion, this wild and primal need for each other. Every touch, every stroke was magic, a fountain of bliss and ecstasy that Ivy was drunk off of and she would be for the foreseeable future.

A jumble of expletives along with Ivy’s name tumbled from Roman’s lips as he came hard, his hips jerking, releasing all he had inside her. He remained on top of her when his orgasm ebbed away, shifting so that her legs slid from his shoulders and settled around his waist. He kissed her softly and relished in her satisfied sighs and the sensual brushes of their lips together. Sitting back on his heels, he studied her with a wipe of his brow, biting his bottom lip cheekily before they both burst into soft laughter as the gravity of their misdeeds sank in.

“Let’s take this party home, beautiful,” he breathed, slapping her backside lightly before helping her out of the bed. “Best believe I ain’t done with your fine ass.”

Thank goodness that Zaia was having a sleepover. “Sounds good to me, babe,” Ivy concurred as they adjusted each other's clothes before sneaking out of the room, not bothering to straighten the rumpled sheets and pillows scattered on the bed.

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[r0ugesun]

Can you write about a witch reader × aemond? Like he was lost after a battle of God eyes in the wood and then he found the reader, and then she help him with his wounds?

Thank you so much for your request. I apologize for the delay, and I appreciate your patience. I hope this meets your expectations :>

(Also shout out @moonstruksandco for helping me with this she’s my irl wife my moon and muse❤️)

Witch!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

No warnings

Synopsis: After a fierce battle above the gods eye, a wounded Aemond finds refuge with Y/N, a reclusive witch, who offers healing in exchange for something that will help guard the forest. They find solace amid the chaos of the ongoing war.

“You have lived too long uncle”

“On that much we agree.”

The battle above the God’s Eye was a clash of beasts, dragons roaring fiercely at their riders’ command. Smoke and flames thickened the air, war cries echoing across the sky like distant thunder.

Vhagar expertly maneuvered around Caraxes, their talons intertwining in a deadly dance. Though old, Vhagar's experience in combat was undeniable, but she struggled against the agile younger dragon. In a swift moment, Caraxes snapped his jaws onto Vhagar’s neck, giving Daemon the chance to leap from his saddle, Dark Sister aimed at Aemond.

But Aemond’s death did not come however, Vhagar twisted and writhed in caraxes grasp until her fire engulfed Daemon, sending him and caraxes into the depths of the lake.

The forest beyond was a twisted labyrinth, ancient trees clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers. The aftermath of the battle left the land charred, a silent witness to horror. Bloodied and broken, Aemond staggered through the underbrush, pain eclipsed only by the grief in his heart. His mighty dragon vhagar lay dead below the water, her sacrifice weighing heavily on him.

As darkness threatened to consume him, a soft, ethereal glow broke through the shadows. Driven by instinct, Aemond forced himself toward the light.

He stumbled into a secluded glade, where a dilapidated stone house covered in ivy stood, a beacon amid the gloom. The air was infused with the scent of incense and flowers, a sharp contrast to the stench of sulfur and burnt flesh he’d left behind. A lone figure, cloaked in black, tended to a moonlit garden. She turned, her eyes reflecting the light like constellations.

“Who goes there?” Her voice was a haunting melody stern, yet oddly soothing.

Aemond collapsed at the edge of the clearing, vision fading. “...help…me,” he gasped.

The woman crossed her arms, her expression one of clear annoyance. “The spirits always send me their messes to clean up.” she muttered under her breath.

Without a word, she stepped aside and helped him in, though her demeanor was far from welcoming. Aemond staggered into the warmth of the cottage, the scent of herbs and something unidentifiable filling his senses. The woman guided him to a wooden table, but her touch was far from gentle.

“My name is Aemond,” he managed, though his vision was blurring.

She rolled her eyes. “I know who you are, Prince Aemond. I am Y/N. Sit still and don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Aemond watched as she moved around the room, gathering supplies with quick, irritated motions. She mixed herbs with practiced ease, creating a paste that she applied to his cuts and bruises. Her touch, though skilled, was brusque, and the pain began to ebb away under her care despite her apparent displeasure.

Then darkness took him. When he awoke, he found himself in a dim room, shelves lined with mysterious vials and tomes in a language he didn’t recognize. The woman was beside him, applying a green salve. It stung at first but soon numbed his pain.

“You saved me” Aemond rasped.

Her nod was slight, her gaze steady. “Your wounds are grave, but you will not join the Stranger yet. I will heal you.”

He studied her intricate symbols etched into her tunic, her skin shimmering like silver in candlelight. “Who are you? Why are you alone in these woods?”

“I am y/n” she said, her voice edged with irritation. “I tend to the animals. They need me.”

Aemond’s eyes narrowed. “You tend to the beasts of the forest? You’re not just a healer, are you? You’re a witch.”

She she looked at him sharply “That’s one name for it. I am whoever the forest needs me to be sometimes a healer, sometimes a protector. And sometimes, something more.”

His expression softened as she unfastened his tunic, revealing deep, angry wounds across his muscular torso.

“These wounds run deep. Can you truly treat them?”

“Trust me” she said, fingers hovering over his scars, her voice unwavering. “The magic flows through me, but it requires something in return.”

Taking a deep breath, he felt the weight of his decision. “Very well. Do what you must.”

Y/n’s fingers grazed his skin, warmth radiating from her touch. “Close your eyes. Breath deep.”

As he obeyed, a surge of energy enveloped him in q blend of warmth and power flowing from her into his wounds. He sensed the whispers of the forest, and for the first time, he allowed himself to believe in something beyond mere survival.

When the healing was done, she stepped back, her eyes searching his. “I need a scale from your dragon” she said, her tone more serious.

His eye snapped open, suspicion and curiosity mingling. “For what purpose?”

“There’s an ancient spell I need to complete” she explained. “One that requires the essence of a dragon. With it, I can enhance my powers and protect this land from the dark forces encroaching upon it.”

He hesitated, the pain of his dragon’s loss still raw. “Vhagar lays at the bottom of the lake, I fear I won’t be able to reach her.”

"Not a problem, I can brew a potion that will grant you the breath of the sea, allowing you to reach her without pause." she replied. “Will you do it?”

Aemond’s jaw clenched as he nodded, the weight of her request heavy on his heart. “I will……I thank you for your help.”

“Come” she said, she gathered her ingredients with practiced grace. the air thick with the scent of herbs and salt Wisps of smoke curled from a small cauldron as she kindled the flame beneath it, the fire dancing in rhythm with her murmured incantations.

She crushed silvery seaweed between her fingers, releasing a shimmer of iridescent essence, and added it to the bubbling brew. Next, she sprinkled in powdered pearls, their luminescence casting a soft glow around the room. As she stirred with a carved wooden ladle, the liquid transformed into a deep azure, swirling like the depths of the lake.

With a final flourish, she dropped in a glimmering shard of moonstone, causing the potion to shimmer and pulse with an ethereal light. “Drink this by the lake, and you shall breathe as easily as the currents flow”

As he left her hut, determination and sorrow fueled his steps. The scale of his recently fallen dragon, an ancient spell, and a witch’s power, this journey was far from over.

With a steady hand, Aemond raised the shimmering potion to his lips, the cool liquid gliding down his throat like a gentle wave. Instantly, a rush of warmth enveloped him, filling his lungs with a strange, invigorating energy.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped toward the water’s edge, the moonlight reflecting off the surface like scattered diamonds. He plunged into the lake, the cool water wrapping around him like a cloak. As he descended, he felt the potion working, granting him the ability to hold his breath as he swam deeper, propelled by determination and the promise of what awaited him below.

As Aemond descended further into the lake’s depths, the water grew darker, illuminated only by the faint glimmer of bioluminescent creatures. Suddenly, he spotted Vhagar, her massive form resting peacefully on the silty bottom, surrounded by a tranquil stillness. Beside her lay his uncle, the visage of his former glory entwined with the majestic shape of Caraxes, their bond transcending even death.

A heavy heart weighed on Aemond as he approached, the sight of Vhagar once a fierce and fearsome beast now appearing serene in eternal slumber. He felt a bittersweet pang of longing, knowing the dragon had once soared the skies with him.

With a quiet determination, he swam closer, carefully reaching out to take a few scales from Vhagar’s side, each one a testament to their shared history. As his fingers brushed against her scales, a profound sense of reverence washed over him, mingling with grief and the echoes of lost love.

Hours later, Aemond returned, a scale from Vhagar in his hand. The witch y/n took it reverently, her eyes softening. “This will do,” she murmured.

Together, they ventured into the heart of the forest, where Y/n began her incantations. The air thickened with magic as she worked, the scale glowing with an otherworldly light. Aemond watched, his heart heavy yet hopeful.

As the spell reached its climax, the forest seemed to come alive. The trees swayed as if in reverence, and a deep, echoing roar filled the air. Vhagar’s spirit emerged, majestic and powerful, her essence blending with the forest. She became its guardian, a spectral presence that would protect the land.

Aemond felt a profound sense of peace. Vhagar was gone, but her spirit lived on, safeguarding the forest. He turned to y/n, gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you” he said softly.

She looked up at him, her stern expression softening. “Vhagars sacrifice will not be forgotten. This land is safe now, thanks to both of you.”

Days turned into weeks as Aemond recovered under Y/N’s care. Her initial annoyance with him faded, replaced by a grudging respect and something more tender. They spoke of many things of dragons and magic, of loss and hope. Aemond found himself drawn to her strength and independence, while she began to see the depth of his pain and the vulnerability beneath his warrior exterior.

One evening, as they sat by the fire, Aemond reached for her hand. “You’ve done so much for me… I owe you a debt I can never repay.”

She met his gaze, her eyes soft but still guarded. “You owe me nothing. I did this for the forest….And perhaps, for you as well.”

He leaned closer, his voice a whisper. “Y/N, I’ve come to care for you deeply. More than I ever thought possible.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. “Aemond…our lives are so different. I am bound to my duty to the forest, to its magic. And you… you are a prince, with duties the war isn’t over”

“There’s nothing left for me there” he said, his hand gently cupping her face. “What matters to me is here, with you.”

Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. The fire crackled softly beside them, mirroring the flame igniting their love. “Then stay” she whispered. “With me.”

Their lips met in a passionate kiss, the spirits of the forest their only witnesses to their new bond. Despite the chaos of the world outside, they found each other, a love as fierce and enduring as the magic that surrounded them.

For the first time in a long time, Aemond felt truly happy.

[sozila]

convalescence. (sukuna x reader)

synopsis: convalescence noun. time spent recovering from an illness or medical treatment; recuperation. ryomen s. itadori was a disease that infected every part of your life, and you didn’t notice until it was too late.

pairing: best friend's older brother!ryomen s. itadori x pre-med uni student!fem reader.

warnings: explicit content eventually, mdni. mentions of underage drinking, descriptive sexual activities. masterlist | previous | next

you are on: incubation. (part one) a/n:

hello!! my name is sozila, and this is my first ever work on tumblr/ao3 so bear with me if my writing seems a little elementary :,) let me know what you think, esp if it's constructive feedback! i've been a huge fic reader since i was 11, if that's any solace <3 (i'm in my second year of college now lmao) this piece really just came to me because i craved older brother sukuna and breezed through every fic with him in it. also, i wanted to incorporate parts of my college experience and hence the allegory to infectious diseases, i promise i'll hash it out adequately soon haha <3 also to note: i'm aware this chapter is rather short, but i intend to make longer chapters as the story continues! until then, here's a little bit of what i have :) enjoy!

ao3 link here.

incubation. (part one) you were 2 years into being best friends with yuuji itadori before you saw him. an idea of him was created in your head through a web of yuuji’s descriptions, megumi’s mild irritations. nobara’s hot-cold opinion that “he’s an insufferable asshole, but those tattoos do numbers on girls”. some part of you felt allured by the mystery of his identity, even though you knew exactly who he was. at least, as much as you could from the near-empty instagram account and pictures from yuuji’s childhood littering the apartment.

it was odd you didn’t meet until now, but university had other plans for you. it made sense though— as a pre-med student, you didn’t have much time to hang out or go to frat parties, as much as nobara complained about your lack of thrill for wilding out. you digressed, but promised as soon as you secured an internship you’d maybe allow a bottle of vodka on you, in the comfort of your shared apartment. yuuji and megumi never held your busy schedule against you; which you genuinely appreciated. you loved that whenever you did get to see them, things picked up right where you left off.

which is why you were surprised at the very least to be met with someone you knew yet were so unfamiliar with standing before you when you knocked on yuuji’s door.

“you one of yuu’s new leeches or what?”

your brows furrowed a little more at the jab on your character, but you utter nothing as you take in the fact ryomen itadori isn’t a mythical brother your best friend made up. he looks exactly like the lockscreen picture on yuuji’s phone, save for a couple new tattoos on his face and arms. his hair was a mix between a mean undercut and ivy league, sporting the same pink hue of his younger brother’s. a simple silver chain hung on his neck which drew you downwards to his chest. he was definitely built much bigger and wider than yuuji. coarse, and just.. raw. you register you’ve been staring at this man clad only in a wife pleaser and joggers for an inappropriately long time and clear your throat, straightening, holding your bag a little closer as if it was going to disappear with a glance of his sanguine eyes.

“you gonna stand there all day, or should i close the door on ya?”

his gruff voice now laced with irritation led you to match his demeanor. you give him a wry, plastered smile and push past him. he lets you, surprisingly.

“can’t really go in with you blocking the entire entryway, asshole.”

he doesn’t acknowledge the blatant insult and walks towards the kitchen. your nose catches it first- he was cooking something really good. suddenly, he yells over his shoulder while he stirs the pot.

“yuuji c’mon, i’m not babysitting for your ass!”

the thomp-thomp-thomps of yuuji’s footsteps follow with him hurrying down the stairs and he flashes a dorky smile to you. “sorry, sorry! you met my lovely best friend then, aniki?”

he grunts without turning around. you didn’t even consider this a conservation, but yuuji seemed unphased by his wet-blanket personality. guess older brotherhood looked like this. yuuji flits around the stove where he’s working to stick a finger in the pot and steal a taste, which sukuna smacked him upside the head for.

rubbing the back of head, yuuji then turns and faces you to give your arms a little squeeze. “megs is running a little late from swim team practice, but he’ll be here soon. ryo made dinner for us though!” he quips brightly.

with a whip of his head and a withering look, you deduced sukuna wasn’t aware of this information, but grumbled to himself. you made out a “motherfucker” and “freeloader” in his long curse.

you pull your happy-go-lucky friend a little out of earshot and bring him to your level to whisper harshly. “yuu, i don’t want to inconvenience your brother.. he already seems pissed i exist,” you murmur. your gaze returns to the giant man in the kitchen and something tickles in your chest. immediately he slaps your shoulder and chortles, as if you told him something outlandish. “don’t even worry! he acts like that all the time, he just doesn’t know you well enough yet.”

you weren’t sure you even wanted him to.

it was 7:30 when you heard the ring of the doorbell and your head lifts from the snug placement you took on the couch. sukuna had already slipped away upstairs so yuuji answers this time, much to your dismay. you lament internally that megumi wouldn’t face the same frosty welcome as you did. you hear two voices instead of just the one you expected and crane over to see a certain red headed girl you knew. she beams upon noticing your peeking form. “you’re here early, miss i-have-no-time-for-my-beloved-friends,” quicker than you could react, she was already beelining to jump on you with a smothering hug.

you try to muster a clear response but get muffled by her puffy knit sweatshirt. “if you checked your phone you’d know i told you!” you push your computer out of reach so it wouldn’t be swept in the tornado that was nobara kugisaki.

megumi had already taken a seat on the rug beside yuuji, deep in conversation about winter finals. however, it became evident it was more megumi lecturing yuuji on course material and the latter looking more confused and stressed by the second.

you move nobara enough to clap your hands and catch their attention.

“if you guys utter the word ‘exams’ one more time, i swear will explode.”

nobara snorts above you and knocks on your head. “look who’s talking. is your memory shot to hell or do you not remember all the times you bring it up yourself?”

“she literally did this afternoon,” yuuji mumbles with a pout. you throw a decorative pillow at him.

“hey! don’t forget i literally made your study schedule for you. and even the studious want a little break,” you defend with a huff. nobara d’awws and squishes your cheeks. “my poor little baby! however did you survive.”

“you guys suck. i deserve nothing but love and affection.”

yuuji rolls his eyes and whines. “oh my goood, yes we love you and appreciate you, hugs kisses rainbows blah blah— i wanna watch a movie already!”

you giggle at his antics as nobara pushes off you, walking to the unabashedly large TV and starts filing through yuuji’s big movie bookshelf. “what are we feeling tonight? fast and furious, ladybird, jigsaw..”

after a couple minutes you all agree on midsommar, which you protested but lost in a 3 to 1 vote (democracy is a joke). you could never sleep properly after a good horror movie, hence you always watched them during the daytime. but because your friends were evil, namely nobara, you had to endure some at night and ended up sleepless and jumpy. “if you can’t sleep, just slip in with me tonight,” nobara counters with a dismissive wave. while you knew neither nobara nor her girlfriend, maki, would bat an eye because of their long friendship with you, you worried for your own well-being. nobara was a huge kicker in her sleep (she denies this profusely). too many times after a night out you’d wake up on the floor with bruises on your side while nobara dozed peacefully, starfish-ed on the bed. you sigh and accept your fate.

the movie ends up being just as if not more unsettling than you expected. you knew nobara clocked out much earlier than you thought when you heard no reaction to the bear scene (never getting that image out of your brain, you fear). you stretch your neck to assess who’s out. beyond the dirty plates on the coffee table from the dinner sukuna “made” for you all, you can make out yuuji cradled into megumi’s chest, snoring lightly. the urchin haired boy didn’t stir much either, so you peel from nobara’s vice-like grip on you to throw a blanket over the two of them. out of the corner of your eye, you see yuuji cuddle into megumi a little more, a small smile on his dozing face. god, you eagerly await the day they could be honest about their feelings. you step back around quietly to adjust nobara on the couch into a more comfortable position.

to navigate out with a better light you fish your jeans for your phone but to your dismay, are met with empty pockets. it didn’t help that your nerves on high alert and the living room was lit only by the glow from the tv. something straight out of a horror movie. genuinely fuck my life. you frown as you crouch down to feel around underneath the couch. after a few minutes of helpless padding later, the task seemed fruitless and you began to retreat to yuuji’s room. nothing could prepare you to feel a big, cold hand palm your shoulder. you freeze, your spine going icy. is this how i’m going to die? swiveling faster than your mind could compute you almost let out a bloodcurdling shriek, only to be met with the same cold hand pressing your mouth shut.

“are you fuckin’ mental?”

sanguine eyes bore back into yours and you fight the urge to bite the hand pressing on you. the audacity of this guy was baffling, really.

you shove him off and glare pointedly.

“me? i’m mental? says the dick who decided to sneak up on someone and grab them like a fucking serial killer!”

you jab a finger on his chest, seething in a whisper. his chest, in reality, was much harder than you anticipated and your finger probably hurt more than the attack on him.

a step. he’s closer to you and now in possession of said finger.

“i lightly tapped you. the rest was damage control, sweetheart.”

“sweetheart?”

“i can’t call you that?”

“how about you don’t call me anything, ever? thanks.”

“makes sense that i can’t call you. got your phone, and all.”

your mouth drops a little. “what?” he snickers. “if you weren’t so busy trying to curse me into the next domain, you’d realize i’ve had your phone in my hand this whole time. fuckin’ idiot.”

lo and behold, your phone was nestled in his raised hand, looking much smaller than you remembered. or was it that his hand was just that large in comparison? how big was this guy, really? part of you wanted to stop everything and just ask him to hold different objects and compare how they perceived in his grasp. but reality struck and you recall this is the same guy who just scared the living daylights out of you.

you yank it out of his stupid mammoth hand, ripping his grasp on you in the process and take a step back. you were awfully close to one another upon closer inspection.

“not an idiot, by the way. 4.0 gpa doesn’t exactly scream stupid.”

“idiocy applies to everyone, sweetheart. regardless of how much you dick ride your textbooks.”

every word that left his mouth had a lilt to it. the laughter in his eyes, his head cocked to the side.. he was messing with you and relished it. that pissed you off. who the fuck was he to decide who you were? what you stood for? you had barely known this imaginary-but-actually-real brother for a couple hours, and here he was insulting and teasing you all in one gift-wrapped present. what gave him the confidence to be so insufferable? and better yet, what could you do to stomp it out?

“go to hell, sukuna.”

you were unwilling to stay in his irritating presence for a moment more. your face was stony and unrelenting, your foot tapping incessantly in impatience. you wanted to slap his face off, but thankfully for him, your best friends were in dreamland just a few feet away.

“goodnight, idiot.”

your feet padded angrily up the stairs and you could still feel those dark sanguine eyes boring into your skull and all over your body. you decided that imaginary or not, yuuji itadori's older brother was the most pompous asshole you've ever had the displeasure of meeting. you didn’t get hit with your skin radiating heat until you closed the door of yuujii’s bedroom behind you. question is, was it anger or arousal?

... she never told me her name.

omg light banter... guys i really love slowburn so sexy time isn't guaranteed soon :( once i've outlined it i'll add specific explicit warnings and maybe you'll get a glimpse of what i envision for you and sukuna aaaaa :) for tumblr, i'll have a navi/masterlist up in a little!

peace luv bathtub!!!

© sozila 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other mediums or sites. cross-posted on ao3 and tumblr under same alias.

[eepwriting]

One More ✶ IV x GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, thigh riding, overstim, fingering, intercourse

To the anon who requested thigh riding, praise + overstim with ivy: I was in the middle of writing this and accidentally posted it instead of saving it to my drafts…so I had to delete that shit lol I’m so sorry. Anyway, this is for youuu! I hope you can still find it + thank you for the request 🤍

!! mdni !!

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“Hop on. You can help yourself.”

It took you a second to register what he just said.

“You can pretend I’m not even here. Hm, how about that?” He reaches for your hand, his covered mouth pressing to the back of your hand, leaving gentle kisses. When you don’t answer he looks at you with impatient eyes and taps his thigh. “C’mon.”

You shift in your seat before standing to remove your bottoms. One leg bends and comes to sit in between his thighs, the other resting beside him, his thigh now caged between your legs. “See? That’s wasn’t so hard was it?” His hands grip your hips. “Now, I’ll sit here, and you do whatever you want.” His eyes are relaxed as he lets his head fall against the couch cushions.

You blush. The way he’s speaking to you, demanding yet calm. The way his hands are ever so slightly guiding your hips back and forth over his thigh. All of it makes your brain fuzzy.

You take a deep breath before firmly pressing down on his thigh, your hips slowly rolling forward then rocking back. You can’t help but let out a whine, the friction feeling like a reward after the yearning you’d felt all day. Your pace quickens slightly.

“Mm, that feel good?” His hands grip tighter as he flexes his thigh. You give him a weak nod. “Oh yeah? You look so pretty up there using my thigh like that.” You whine out at his words, one hand landing on his shoulder, the other gripping the back of his neck. You lean over him, your lower half, having developed a mind of its own. Hips snapping back and forth, your own thighs, closing and opening as you push yourself harder down on his leg.

IV’s hand shoots up to pull his mask up and over his chin and mouth before he grips your jaw, bringing your mouth to his. He kisses you, deep and slow. You moan into his open mouth and grip the back of his neck tighter. He pulls away slightly “Tell me how you feel baby. You like riding my thigh like this?” He’s bouncing his leg now, looking up at you through his lashes, his hands gripping your hips even tighter.

You let out a breathy yes and a quick nod. “You feel so good baby. So good.” You moan out, your eyes squeezing shut. Your release is so close you can almost taste it. You take notice of the way iv’s hips slightly buck up towards you, the way his hard cock is straining the denim of his black jeans. Everything combines into the perfect mixture, aiding that knot in your lower half to finally unravel. Your head rolls back, a cool flash starts at the top of your head, crashing down your body before settling between your legs.

“There you go baby. Always so good for me, aren’t you?” He says with a slight groan as he watches you. IV’s hands run up and down your sides as your hips slowly come to a stop. Another whine leaves your mouth as you lean into him, your head on his shoulder. He lets you stay that way for a short while, before wrapping his arms around you, standing up slightly and laying you down on the couch.

He’s standing over you now, his hands making quick work of his belt. “You gonna let me fuck you now? You’ve been asking all day.” He shifts you over on the cushions before straddling your hips, his head coming down to kiss you. His hands roam your neck and chest as he licks into your mouth. Soon his hand finds its way in between your thighs, his fingers lightly rubbing and teasing you.

Your teeth come down on iv’s bottom lip as a whine crawls up from your throat. “Hmmm, easy.” You make a poor effort in shifting yourself away from his hand.

“Shhh, I know baby.” He moves to leave open mouth kisses on your jaw. “You can give me another, can’t you? You asked for this, remember?” His other hand pushing down on your hips, keeping you still.

You let out a guttural moan because he’s right. You have wanted this all day but you’re already so sensitive. You know it’ll take little to no time before you cum again. You can already feel yourself reaching that peak. IV pulls away to sit up, his hand still moving between your legs, faster now. He looks down at you and grabs your hand. “Be good for me baby. Make a mess on my hand, c’mon.”

Your pleasure catches up to you and you feel that familiar feeling again. You can’t help the almost silent cry that leaves you. IV works you through your second orgasm, one hand still working you, the other still gripping your hand. “Oh, good job baby.” He lets out a chuckle as he leans back down to capture your mouth in a sloppy kiss.

His mouth travels down your neck. “One more.” He sits up again, his hand reaching into his boxers, pulling his cock out. He gathers some spit in his hand, pumping himself a few times.

You don’t know if you have another in you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him off. Deep down you want this just as much as he does.

He teases, the head of his cock just barely entering you before he pulls away. He does this multiple times until he finally pushes his full length into you. You moan out, basically on the verge again, having just finished mere minutes ago. “Wait. Wait, just sit there for a second.” You breathe out, your hands gripping his forearms. IV listens, his hips still while his hands rub comforing circles on your hips and stomach.

You give him a slight nod when you’re ready. He pulls out until just his tip is still in you, before burying himself again. A low but long moan leaves him, his head thrown back. “Shit baby. Feels so good when you’re wrapped around me.” He lets out a huff before bringing his hips back and snapping them forward.

Tears prick your eyes, everything feeling overwhelming and sensitive. IV notices and leans down to rest his forehead against yours. He coos at you, peppering kisses on your cheeks and mouth. “You can take it can’t you? You’re doing so good for me.” His thrusts are somewhat harsh and quick, but you can tell he’s loosing himself with the way his breath stutters.

Arms on either side of your head, he picks up his pace. His cock pummeling in and out of you. His whines and moans are gruff and constant.

His hips falter and his breathing becomes shallow and quick. “Where do you want me?” He whimpers. You wrap your legs around his waist, arms around his back and bring him down to you. Your mouth attaches to his in a hungry kiss, occasionally interrupted by moans from both of you. IV’s hips stop when you feel him twitch and release into you.

With him, his sounds and your overall sensitivity, another orgasm washes over you, smaller and weaker this time. Your whole body shudders as you moan out a weak cry into his mouth. You have zero energy left.

You hear a groan from IV before he pulls away from you. “Hm, you okay?” He’s breathless as he cups your face. You nod, on the verge of sleep.

He pulls out of you, before leaving the room in search for a wet cloth. He’s back a short time later, gently cleaning you and himself up. When he’s done he squeezes your hand before slotting himself behind you on the couch. He drapes a blanket over the two of you before wrapping his arms around your waist. “You did such a good job baby, thank you. I knew you could give me one more.” You feel him kiss the side of your face before your heavy eyes close.

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This was so fun to write y’all! Sorry if the ending kinda sucks :/

If you want to see anything in particular, feel free to request.

K. Bye bye.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Make a mess of me

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 9

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: SMUT. YES FULL P IN V SMUT. (don't get too excited y'all, the pining isn't over yet.) swearing, slight degradation, underage drinking

a/n: The biggest shout out to @gracethyomen for ghostwriting the sexy parts because my asexual ass had no idea what I was doing. This was the first time I ever attempted smut so I hope you all like it. As always, comments and reblogs help encourage me to write more!

w/c: 3.1k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT:

The floorboards beneath Matt’s feet trembled as the throbbing bass boomed throughout the bar. Around him, groups of students screamed along to the lyrics of the pop song blaring through the DJ's speakers. Gripping the neck of his lukewarm beer, he lifted the bottle to his mouth—met with more resistance than he was expecting when the ancient remnants of spilled drinks on the tabletop clung to the glass. He tried not to scrunch his nose as his finger drifted across a patch of an unidentified sticky substance on the surface in front of him.

Shoving thoughts of the unpleasant sensation aside, Matt chugged the rest of his bottle, relishing in the warm current rippling through his veins as his past few drinks finally started to take effect. Breathing deeply, his lips twitched up. Despite the stifling heat of bodies grinding against each other and the acrid smell of vomit coating the place, he felt wildly at ease. His senses were still overactive, but he could feel them dulling as his brain grew fuzzy. Face slackening as his cheeks turned rosy, his mouth broke into a full grin.

“Are you feelin' it, Murdock?” Foggy laughed, clapping him on the back clumsily. His roommate's breath, which reeked of bottom shelf vodka, clouded against Matt's cheek as he patted the other man's back.

Smiling dopily, Matt leaned into the arm Foggy had around him. “Not at all,” His sentence broke off into a laugh he didn't recognize. Had that come from him?

“Oh he's feelin' it.” Foggy cackled gleefully, tossing a proud look to the girl across the table from the two. “I told ya: the cheap stuff works faster.”

“I'll have to agree with you there, buddy.” Matt snorted, rolling his loosening shoulders.

“I'm still not convinced.” The girl giggled. Her dangling earrings clinked on their chains as she shook her head.Matt hid a knowing smile behind the lip of his now-empty bottle as he felt her and Foggy flush with warmth in tandem, their pulses sprinting like jackrabbits.

"Oh Foggy would know. It's not his first time here." Matt squeezed his friend’s knee, shoving it towards the girl in what he hoped was an obvious gesture. "Did he tell you how he met the bouncer?"

Puffing out his chest, Foggy beamed. Launching into a rather embellished story of how he'd met the senior by saving his younger sister from being mugged. Nothing had happened really, he'd yelled at the guy (who had promptly scurried off), but Matt kept his mouth shut. Who was he to deny Foggy a connection with this girl he was clearly into?

If only he could tell Foggy that she was equally into him, that he didn't need to try so hard. Keeping his senses a secret from his best friend was nearly impossible when alcohol lowered his guard.

His face must have fallen because Foggy scoffed at him. "What did I say, Murdock?"

"Nothing, I just realized it's my turn to buy a round." Matt gave an exaggerated grimace, his body flooding with relief when Foggy and his admirer laughed in response.

"Buy another three shots," Foggy requested, turning back to his admirer. "I'm not done trying to convince Miss Stahl here that she's going about this 'drinking' thing all wrong."

"Trying to get me drunk, Nelson?" The girl responded smugly, tilting her head at him.

"Hey, we'll see where the night takes us," Foggy stated emphatically, spreading his arms wide.

Matt smirked, shoving his chair away from the table and heading to the bar. Squeezing his way through the crowd of his inebriated classmates, he gripped the sticky bartop to cement his place in line. Hearing the bartender drift towards him, he threw up a hand and called out the request.

“Sure thing, man. It'll be a minute.” The bartender called back, busying himself with the plate of cocktails he seemed to be making for the gaggle of sorority girls off to Matt's left.

Matt nodded politely, leaning his weight against the sturdy wood planks of the bar. The air around him shifted as the scantily-clad girls split off towards an open table, one staying behind to bring the drinks. The hair on his neck prickled as her attention turned toward him. He couldn't help but smile as he felt her heart rate speed up, her limbs flooding with renewed warmth. Stepping closer to him cautiously, her hair rustled as she tucked it behind her ear.

“Matthew Murdock, right?” She asked, taking a seat on the stool next to Matt's hip.

“Who wants to know?” He asked with a cocky grin, tilting his head at her.

She giggled in response, her chin tipping towards her chest for a moment before she held out a clammy hand. “Shelby Norton. Um, I'm holding out my hand and I now realize you can't see that.”

With a soft laugh of his own, he held out his own hand. “I'm Matt. Nice to meet you, Shelby.” She clasped her small hand around his, shaking once before withdrawing her arm.

“Nice to meet you too. We had Torts together, last semester, I think.”

“Did we? I'm sorry, I'm not great with faces.” He joked, taking a step closer to her when she laughed.

“That's alright. I was always too shy to speak up, but I loved your comments on the cases we read. Especially when we discussed MacPherson.”

Matt felt his ego glow with pride. She'd clearly had her eyes on him for some time then. A slight blush crept up his neck and across his cheeks. “You're too sweet, thank you. Did your friends also force you to buy them a round?"

"Uh sort of," She snorted, twisting her hands around each other. "I'm trying to rush a sorority next month so a friend of mine invited me out to 'get to know' some of the girls. They told me freshmen had to pay."

"Mmm that's a shit deal." Matt sympathized, pouting a bit to express his distaste of the hazing. "I could split the cost with you, if it would help."

"Oh you don't have to do that!" Shelby protested, but Matt held up a hand and plastered on his most convincing smile.

"Well, how else would I be able to buy you a drink?" He slid the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip as she giggled in response. His heart was strumming in tandem with hers, arousal growing as he picked up the scent of hers being carried on the stale bar air. Slipping a bill from the stack on his pocket, he pressed them into her palm.

“That's really sweet of you, Matt. How can I repay you?" Shelby chuckled sweetly, perching on the edge of her seat as she traced his forearm with a single finger. As she drew a line over his skin, goosebumps rose in the wake of her touch. She didn’t have long nails, he realized when he could feel the warmth from the pad of her finger when she touched him. He could hear her heart beating just a tiny bit faster at the contact, making him smile minutely. Eager. He didn’t mind it.

“Do you always proposition people when they offer you drinks?” He teased, “If so, what would a beer get me?”

He heard the soft sound of her lips separating as she smiled at his joke, leaning in to brush her lips across the shell of his ear before she whispered breathily. “Forget the beer.” With that same finger that had run the length of his lower arm she turned his chin just a bit to better align their mouths, pecking him gently on the lips to test the waters.

He took the bait, molding his mouth to hers with a soft sigh, near-empty beer bottle forgotten- somewhere? He didn’t care enough to worry where he’d left it, prepared to lose himself in the warm body currently wrapping a toned leg around his calf.

“Is your roommate here with you?” Shelby murmured against his mouth, stroking her other hand down the front of his threadbare shirt to the button on his worn-out jeans.

“He’s not coming back later.” He reassured her, winding fingers through her hair to the back of her neck. “Something tells me he got lucky.”

“Not as lucky as you’re about to be.” She cooed, nipping lightly at his jawline.

“What about the group you came with? Won’t they miss you?” Matt asked, a bit breathlessly.

“Let them.” Shelby answered, tangling her fingers with his and tugging him towards the open door at the back of the bar.

"That was so good babe," Everett groaned, setting his fork down with a clink.

“It's boxed macaroni, don’t get too ahead of yourself.” You chided, laughing lightly as you plopped the cardboard container on top of the teetering stack of empty beer cans in the recycling bin. “Okay what are we watching?”

“I’m still kinda hungry.” Everett confessed with a knowing smirk, leaning towards you across the small couch as you took your seat.

“You want me to put another pot on?” You asked, moving to stand again to make more macaroni.

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” He growled, tugging you into his lap with one quick movement. Yelping in surprise, the sound quickly morphed into a pleased hum as his lips landed on yours.

“Ah, I see. This was your plan all along.” You murmured between heated pecks. “Praise my work in the kitchen so I'd take you to the bedroom.”

“This is a studio apartment, babe. This is the bedroom.” Everett noted, jerking his head towards the full bed in the other corner of the room. Sliding a large palm between your shoulder blades, he held you steady as you arched into his touch, smashing your lips to his again. His free hand roamed over your body, sliding over your thigh before gripping it gently. As his thumb continued to swipe from side to side, you sighed appreciatively, rocking your hips into his in response.

“So worked up already?” He laughed, bringing his mouth to your jawline and pressing a line of open-mouthed kisses towards your pulse point. “Slow down, babe. We've got all the time in the world.”

Anticipation fading slightly, you nodded, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Sorry.” You tried to push away the feeling of being scolded, especially with Ev’s hands being where they were. You wanted to enjoy this as much as he always seemed to.

Smiling with a small chuckle, Everett didn't answer, simply locking his lips with yours again.

Cupping her neck gently, Matt rested his forehead against hers—breaking their lips to allow her to come up for air.

“You doin' ok?” He panted, heat flaring in his gut as her soft hands continued to draw patterns over the skin of his waist despite his interruption.

Nodding against him, she gulped in a breath. “Oh yah.”

Smiling hungrily, Matt pulled her back to him once more. “Glad to hear it, beautiful.”

Touching his lips to hers once again, Matt relished in the feeling of her body responding to his; a simple kiss throwing her off balance enough that he was practically keeping her upright. Swiping his tongue over her bottom lip, he grinned into the kiss when she moaned in response.

Stumbling backwards until his calves touched his mattress, he planted himself on it, lifting her onto his lap without breaking the kiss. Her arms released his hips, flattening on the bed as she pressed her chest into his. Following her lead, Matt collapsed against the stack of pillows, threading his hand into her soft hair.

Unlatching her mouth from his, she grinned against his lips, taking a moment to catch her breath. “Sorry, I got winded.”

Chuckling, Matt rubbed his thumb over her scalp comfortingly. “That's alright. Take your time, sweetheart.”

Her rounded nails dragged down his chest as she admired him for a moment. “Wanna take this off?”

“Happy to.” Matt pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor as she did the same with hers.

Straightening his posture as the brisk air pummeled his exposed chest, Matt felt a smug grin creep onto his face as her heart rate spiked, her eyes trailing down toward the button of his jeans. “Like what you see?” He teased, trailing a finger over her arm and towards her jawline.

“Mmhmm.” She nearly whimpered, digging her fingers into his biceps as she dove into him for another heated kiss. “You're gorgeous, Matt.”

He chuckled into her mouth, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth as he cupped one of her covered breasts. “Can I take this off?”

“Please.” She whined, fumbling with the button of his pants.

Tightening one fist around the bottom of the headboard, you rutted your hips further onto the head of Ev’s cock, hissing with pleasure as it stretched your cunt. He continued to slam his dick into you, the slow, delicate rhythm quickly boring your libido. The orgasm you craved began floating further and further from your desperate reach.

Moaning his name, you cupped his ass with your free hand, shoving his hips closer to your own. The twinge of wonderful pain made your vision flicker, and your optimism returned--only to be quickly snuffed out when the building hazy sensation receded once again.

“Fuck!” You cried out, gritting your teeth in frustration as the shaft of your boyfriend's cock pumped in and out of you. Digging your nails into his flesh, you dropped your hand from the headboard, trailing it over your stomach before running a finger over your own clit.

Your hips bucked with pleasure, a moan slipping through your parted lips.

“You close, sweetie?” Everett asked, between pants.

“Yah,” You nodded, drawing circles over your sensitive bud and grinning as orgasm once again descended upon you. Your pulse jumped, blood rushing from your heart towards your slick thighs. Pleasure began to crest over you, it's fantastic cloud slowly wafting up and—

With a ferocious movement, Everett slammed his cock into you, knocking your head into the bed frame with the force. Great. Bubble popped, you traced circles over your clit with renewed urgency as Everett began to moan.

Sliding his tongue back into her, Matt smiled against her entrance as Shelby arched her spine with a moan. Gripping her shuddering thighs with vigor, he pulled back, perching over her with a smirk. Her arousal clung to his nose and stubbled chin. Letting his hand drift back down to her thighs, he traced delicate swirls up and down them as she caught her breath.

“Fuck, Matt. That was—”

“Good?” He asked loftily, as if he couldn't read her body like a braille essay.

She chuckled, grabbing his neck and yanking him down for a kiss. Her tongue slid into his mouth readily, mixing the taste of stale alcohol with the arousal coating his tongue. Shifting one knee in between her legs, he hummed happily as she began grinding her hips over his leg.

Nudging her face with his own, he licked a stripe over her neck, kissing the tender skin there before sinking his teeth in carefully.

“Matt!” Shelby cried, hands grappling for his waist as he continued to bruise her neck.

Cupping one of her breasts in his hand, he circled her nipple with his thumb before dragging his fingertip over the stiff bud as she bucked her hips with a whimper. His stiff cock stretched the fabric of his boxers as the noises continued to fall from her lips without pause. Ridding himself of his final piece of clothing, he traced a finger through her dripping folds.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Matt, please!” She begged, heart pounding in her chest as she chased another orgasm. 

Readying his cock in front of her entrance, he slowly lowered his hips until the head was inside of her, giving her a moment to adjust to the stretch. Gasping in a breath, her hands—still grasping his waist—contracted, hauling him closer to her.

Smiling wildly, Matt rutted forward, groaning in pleasure as her walls squeezed his dick. She was quivering beneath him, whining his name as climax rapidly approached.  

“Oh fuck, yes. Yes!” Everett growled. 

He was close. And if you were planning on not faking your own climax, you needed to speed this process up.

Wetting your lips, you let your mind flood with images of Everett kissing you, marking your neck with his perfect teeth, tugging your hair—things he hadn't done since the first month or so of your relationship. The way droplets of sweat would creep down his torso after he worked out. The way he kissed you after you got an answer right in a tutoring session. Clasping your neck in his large palm as if you were the most precious thing in the world. Because you were. You were his girl.

Whimpering as your body leaned into the growing thrill, you bit your lip to keep from screaming as a voice echoed in your mind.

“That's it sweetheart, just like that. So good for me.” The familiar rumble was delectable, drawing you in like a moth to the flame. You moaned softly, keening upwards with desire. The voice hanging over you chuckled smugly. “You like when I praise you, hm?”

“Yes,” You responded, letting your eyes fly open as orgasm finally reached you. Hovering above you, was the source of the voice. Blank hazel eyes, customary devilish smirk, gorgeous dark hair—all staring back at you as you shook with orgasm.

Not Everett. 

Matt.

His low voice looped in your ears as you rode out your high. “So good for me, sweetheart. So good.” 

Letting your eyes flutter shut with a massive exhale, you sagged against the mattress as the muscular body on top of you went rigid. A different voice—Everett's voice—groaning with delight as he came. “Fuck, that's it! Yes, yes, yes!”

Opening your eyes again, your brain went blank. All you could do was lay there and heave in breaths, your body still sparking with the remnants of an electric climax. Everett planted a sloppy kiss on your mouth, collapsing against the mattress beside you.

“Damn, babe. Talk about an ego boost. I don't think I've ever heard you make sounds like that.”

Chuckling nervously, you tipped your head to grant him access as he pressed his rough lips against your pulse point. “Yah, yah it was good.”

Snorting, Everett tucked you against his side, your sweaty skin pulling slightly as it dragged against his. “That might've been the best I've ever had, seriously.”

“Yah, me too.” You murmured, reality and dread settling in your chest like dead weight.

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe @abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @jadeunstablexx @spider-murdock @0ctober-writes @danzer8705 @mattmurdockstateofmind @supervoldejaygent @dorothleah @zomtart @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @rev-glut @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002 @blue-devil-of-the-lord @pigeonmama @daisy-arien0 @yarrystyleeza

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Request??? Plsss

Pony makes a new friend with the reader and they instantly click and Pony knows the readers home life isn't great so he tells her their door is always open if she needs to get away. She takes him up on that offer but uses the window and climbs into pony's room during the night and crawls into his bed (they are very platonic touch happy people) she cuddles him trying to stop her tears but it's not actually Pony but is Soda?

Summary: Late at night, on a whim, you decide to seek out your bestfriend Pony for comfort, however the person comforting you isn't Pony but his brother.

Warnings: mentions of bad home life, mentions of vomiting

Author's Note: none

You and Pony had been such an inseperable pair since the day you first met. He was your best friend, and you were his. Your friendship was genuine and beautiful. He promised that when he grew up and saved up enough money, he'd take you away from Tulsa, from your family, anything that weighed you down and bring you somewhere carefree. Your care for each other blossomed like ivy, infectiously climbing at every wall, even if the results were anything but an infection.

But still, despite the golden sun that shone before you, there was still a grating darkness that followed you like a shadow. Something that peeled away at your layers of calluses, skin, and eventually stripping you until you were just a pile of bones. Your life at home made you feel vulnerable, constantly fighting for something you could never have. Everything around you seemed to be sucked into the vortex of your family, the one relationship that you should treasure like a special gemstone.

Pony was there, every time, like a savior, a drop of water in the desert.

"I'll always be there for you," He once offered, his hand outstretched to yours. The hand of Mitus which was said to turn things into gold, had truly nothing on the feeling that enveloped you as Pony clasped your hand into his, turning your tears into gold as it reflected the sunset which matched the movie-like scenario.

But, you couldn't stay away from your house forever. They called you often when you were out, feigning worry, as if they wouldn't bury you in a cardboard box if you passed. Several times, the police would turn up at your location, insisting that your mother was worried that you needed to get home. The drive to your 'home' in the back of a cop car always leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You truly felt like a fugitive.

Often, you took to sneaking out of your house, desperately clawing at the walls that kept you in, jumping over the garden walls to taste freedom, even when it was pitch black.

Today was no different, except the moon was full, spilling silver across the streets of Tulsa, like jewlery being melted under severe heat. You felt the hair rise on the back of your neck but bravely pressed on. The streetlights flickered, but it did not frighten you, the low hum of the lights making you almost drowsy as you trekked to Pony's house.

"If you ever need to find me, just come to my window," The fleeting converation crossed your mind. It was the day before you collapsed from the mental exhaustion of your family. The day before... today. The sheer thought of being back in that moment brought tears to your eyes. Your mind overflows with grief as you thrust your head into the bend of your elbow, drying your tears with little grace. Your legs felt like lead by the time you arrived. There was one light on, right in the living room. You could hear the nonsense chatter of the television, a luxury you could only indulge in once and a while. You yearned to peep through the window and see what they were watching, but you slipped around the corner under Ponyboy's window.

Usually, at this time, he would be in bed. You replayed possible situations that could happen when you enter through the window, a habit you'd taken to after having such irreversible trauma bestowed onto you. You clung to the idea of just climbing through, finding Pony half-asleep, and letting him hold you while you cry. You grit your teeth as you stepped back, trying to find a way up the window. It wasn't too tall, but the wood foundation that raised the house up by a meter or so made it impossible for you to just jump and pull yourself up due to your weak state.

Slowly, you fixated your thoughts on an overturned plant pot, pulling it towards the window. You jumped from the pot to the sill, like an agile cat, and pushed the curtains over. You slipped into the room. It was dark with the curtain open and darker with it closed. You felt your way around the room until your foot hit the mattress on the floor. You could faintly make out the line of a person, Ponyboy. You nearly sobbed at the familiar sight of your best friend. The steady breathing of his slumber calming your racing heart. You nudged him away.

"Pony?" You asked, listening for the faint sound of his acknowledgment. It came in a hummed sound akin to a 'Hm?' You scooted closer, wrapping your arms around him, daring the tears not to fall.

"I'm sorry to bother you." Your speech was mangled with sobs and hiccups, "You said I could come when I needed to," you croaked. His hand wrapped around the to the small of your back. Something pricked the back of your mind. Something that bloomed into fear, making goosebumps form over your arms. The realization floated to you like a paper boat on water.

This wasn't Pony.

Just like that, the light flicked on, golden beams hurting your eyes until you squinted. You were face to face and arm in arm with Sodapop, Pony's brother.

You could've smacked yourself for being so dumb. His hand was too large to be Pony's. And his mannerisms, Pony held you tightly even when tired, Soda's hand was losely wrapped around you. You felt genuine embarrassment bubble in your stomach and you had to stop yourself from vomiting.

"I'm sorry, do you want me to get Ponyboy for you?" His arm retracted to his chest, like he was pulling into himself as if he was scared of you, or of hurting you.

You had always taken Sodapop for a no-nonsense guy, it probably was because of your lack of interactions but there was little you knew about him. He was laying on his side, face slightly pinched together because of the bright light but you felt perhaps a connection to him. Possibly because you were so close with his brother but maybe for a different reason too.

"Oh, no. I'm sorry. I can leave." You said, drawing your hands that were also loosely draped around him back. His eyes flicked to your red puffy eyes and he shook his head.

"Uhm, you can stay here for a little while," he said, "or whenever you want to leave," he rushed to fix his mistake. You stared at him, starry eyed and happy.

"Thank you," You whispered, he reached for the light switching it off and closed the curtain, before dropping his head back onto his pillow listlessly, dead asleep.

You, however, didn't sleep. You stared at the ceiling even if it was pitch black. You bit your knuckle to stop your wide smile in case Soda could still see you before cozying yourself up into the mattress.

[onsunnyside]

ok so i've been trying to come up with a mafia trope for this ask by the bestie @bimbofawn: now this isn't a full-blown mob fic, but it has a few elements

The Camerons have all the wealth, influence and success anyone can dream of. They come from a long lineage of fame and riches, now running the parent company of many subsidiaries with power all across the country. It's no surprise they're involved in a few shady businesses, yet it's all kept tightly under wraps.

As the heir to a vast dynasty, Rafe grew up under a lot of pressure to be the best in what he does, and his ego is proof of that. He's in the tabloids, the ivy league graduate by day and the wild bachelor by night, landing himself in more scandals than ass-kissing articles.

The Camerons are known for their prestige and (heavily manufactured) picture-perfect image. So Rafe's sleazy, immature behaviour just won't do. Although he's doing good with the shady side of the family business (bc ofc he's into violence and drug trafficking/manufacturing), he needs to do better with the public side. To give his son a motive for cleaning up his act, he gives him an ultimatum: lose it all and get disowned or settle down.

Now, he has a few months to find someone, but his ego won't let him settle for just anyone. The headlines aren't any comfort either: Pleasure Over Business: Is Rafe Cameron responsible for the fall of the Cameron dynasty?

This is very off-to-the-races coded: you drift into his sector on his friend's arm one night. He shrugs you off, expecting there to be a different girl the next time they go to the clubs (because there always is) but nope, you show up again and again.

It’s hard for him to ignore someone so kindhearted and naturally alluring. He can’t look away from you sipping on the straw, your calm gaze locked on his, making him stumble over his words like a teenager with a crush. He dreams of you every time he falls asleep, your pretty face burned on the inside of his eyelids as if you belonged there.

But one night his friend shows up with a different girl.

"Her rates got too high, and my folks were getting suspicious so I had to let her go, unfortunately." He exhales, his arm around the other woman kissing up his neck.

Now, did he predict you were an escort? Not at all. It catches him off guard and he almost spits up his drink. "You paid her to date you?"

Topper glares, "you don't have to say it like that. We did more than just make appearances together if that's what you're asking. All consensual, of course, but you do have to pay extra for private um... sessions."

me senses... a sugar-baby proposition: "I'll take care of everything, all expenses, your rent, and an allowance on top of that. Anything you want you can have."

You're still apprehensive, you've taken clients who've heard of you from word of mouth before, but this was new. They were best friends who routinely saw each other, you'd hate to stir the pot. "Won't it be weird?"

"You with Top was just business and so is what I'm offering." Perhaps that was a little white lie, but you didn't need to know that. "No harm, no foul. In my hands, you could live better than this."

"I like my home." You mutter, hugging a pillow to your chest, it was one of the many mismatched cushions that littered your old couch. "I worked hard to get it this way."

He nudges the wobbly table by the door, the picture frames rattling on the surface. "For thousands of dollars a night, I would've expected some sense of luxury, or a stove with actual knobs." He says and quirks a brow, "where'd all that money go?"

"Oh... I had to give my boss his cut."

"How much is that?"

"80 percent." You admit, ducking away when Rafe frowns, "I know, I know... It wasn't my fault, my daddy—" Your voice cracks, "My daddy got involved with a bad man after he gambled away all our savings and my college fund. And he still couldn't stop after my mama left. I had to—I had to help somehow."

You still remember returning from campus to see him bruised and battered on the living room floor, crying for your mother who was halfway across the world, now a happily divorced woman. The memory brings tears to your eyes and they stream down your cheeks.

Rafe bites his tongue, rethinking his decision to show up here in the first place. Your unlucky life only made you more perfect, and as terrible as it sounded, he knows he won't find anyone more fitting for his circumstances.

He refused to leave until you agreed.

"What's his name?"

You don't hear him over your sniffles and rub your nose into your pillow, "huh?"

He crouches by your feet, placing a hand on your thigh. "What's the big bad man's name, sweetie?"

"Why—Why are you asking..."

The blue in his eyes seems darker, but it could just be the dim lightbulbs you haven’t changed yet. He blinks up at you with thick lashes, a slow smile crawling onto his face.

"I'm going to prove to you that when you're with me, you've got nothing to worry about."

And the next night, he shows up at your door with a fresh bouquet of flowers and bruised knuckles. You don’t get one word out before drops a heavy duffel bag on the floor, “here’s the money you deserve for your work, and extra for your troubles.”

You glance at the bag and then his face, your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. “What—What did you do?”

He smiles, cocking his head to the side. “Nothing you have to worry about, sweetheart.” He says, wiping toothpaste from the corner of your lip. “Now, are you going to invite me in?”

Rafe is very possessive, he doesn’t care that you dated/slept with his friend because you belong to him now. He buys you a gold necklace with his initial on it, parades you around the city for all the nosy paps to see, and brings you home to meet his family. And yes, you do get the gold seal of approval from his father.

well this is just a mash-up of different tropes 🫡 fake relationship, sugar daddy and mob, with rafe's signature "you're mine" mindset. me has a few slutty and soft ideas for this au too hehe

[ivystoryweaver]

🍂Fall Fluff Ficlets🍁

Fall Fluff Ficlets Masterlist

We got Angstember 😭 💔 We got Kinktober 🍑 🍆

How about some fluff? 💖 ✨

It’s not a challenge, it’s an Autumn gift from me to you 🎁

Step 1: Pick a cozy fall prompt

☕️ Food 🥧 🍩

- coffee - tea - cider - pie - donuts - soup/stew -

🎡 Activities 🥾 🍎

- hay ride - carnival - haunted house - apple orchard/picking - baking - trickORtreating - corn maze - hiking/nature bathing - playing/jumping in leaves - swinging on a rope or porch swing - horseback riding - pumpkin carving/pumpkin patch - cozy fire - read a book - tailgate party/sporting event -

🧡 Romance 💫 🖤

- first kiss - forehead kiss - kiss on cheek - hug - holding each other - rocking back and forth - holding hands - falling asleep together - head on shoulder - cuddles - first date - first ‘i love you’ - new love - established love - gaze into eyes - nuzzling neck - rubbing noses - touching foreheads - caressing cheek/touching face - holding nape of neck - grasping shoulders gently - grabbing by the hips - stare across the room/field - hear them talking about you

(Same list of prompts to save or share)

Step 2: Pick a Character:

All spots are taken! 🖤🧡

Step 3:

Send me an ✨ask✨ with the prompt and character you want. Please send 2 characters, in your order of preference, in case your first choice is already taken.

Step 4:

I will update this list every time I get an ask, so you know who’s still available.

Step 5:

I will write you thots, blurbs, headcanons or a ficlet (<1000 words). I plan to have them all done by US Thanksgiving Day (Nov. 28).

That's it! First come, first served! There will be 6 total stories. Spots are FULL, but I might be able to squeeze in more.

Yes, I do take platonic requests!

xoxo

Ivy

🍁🖤🍂🧡🍁🖤🍂🧡🍁🖤🍂🧡

Events Masterlist || Main Masterlist

[finkinthisfrew]

Teacher's Pet

cw: 18+, teacher/student, slow burn, pining, public arousal

JSYK: this is a Matty x reader, but I personally dislike seeing Y/N in a story (I feel like it takes me out of it) so that’s why you get a new name lol sorry if you hate it

You: Hazel Thompson, a timid and unexperienced 26-year-old Masters Student Him: Matty Healy, an intimidating and authoritative 30-year-old Professor at an Ivy League

It’s fall- your favourite time of year. The leaves are just beginning to turn as you quicken your pace, walking across campus. It’s your first day at the university- you’re starting your master's, something you’ve wanted to do for years and finally saved up the money to do. You feel a bit out of place, several years older than most of the freshly out of high school students who run around you, anxious to start the next chapter of their lives. But you find it charming nonetheless, now smiling at a duo of giggling girls with their arms linked that pass as you tighten your scarf around your neck, bracing yourself against the chilly fall air. You climb the steps of the charming old brick building towards your last class of the day, eager to get home and start on your already giant pile of homework.

You double-check that you’re at the right lecture hall before entering behind a very slow-moving group of fellow students, wondering why they’re dawdling by the door so much. You scan the large room as you inch your way in before freezing in the doorway, spotting the reason for the traffic jam. Leaning over the teacher's desk is a breathtakingly handsome man. His hair is gelled back, though a few curls, perfect ringlets, have escaped, effortlessly beautiful where they hang across his forehead. His brows are furrowed in focus as he rifles through the papers on the lecturer's desk, his absent-mindedly pursed lips more perfect than any marble statue you’d ever seen. He’s wearing a collared button-up shirt and tie with a speckled wool knit v-neck sweater the colour of coffee pulled overtop. It fits him a little too well, you realize as you notice how the sleeves cling to his muscled arms. His dark grey slacks are also perfectly fitted, hanging over Doc Marten oxfords which peek out from beneath. A single tiny silver hoop hangs from his ear. It takes a moment for you to register that this man isn’t a student, but your Professor. You question yourself for a moment. He’s too young, too stylish, and far too handsome to be a Professor at such a prestigious institution, but your hunch is confirmed when he looks up from where he’s bent over his desk at the group of you gawking at him from the doorway.

“Class is about to start if you wouldn’t mind finding your seats,” he says to you all with raised eyebrows, his tone stern. His dark eyes casually survey the group of students as they finally begin to move into the classroom. His eyes pass over you, then flicker back for a split-second. At least... you think they did. He’s already back to looking at the papers he has scattered across his desk, his face focused and otherwise dull of emotion when you shake the thought from your head and step into the classroom.

You sit down in the second row of the medium-sized lecture hall, not wanting to seem too keen, but quickly realize that the second row might as well be the first- the majority of your peers sitting in the back of the hall. You feel relieved when you hear someone shuffling behind you. You glance back to see another girl sit down behind you, her eyes glued to the front. At least you’re not the only one captivated by him. You turn back in your seat and begin to write the title of the class and the date at the top of your spiral notebook in preparation for taking notes when you hear her speak suddenly.

“He’s so fit, isn’t he?” She whispers loudly. You glance over your shoulder, unsure of whether the girl is speaking to you, but it’s clear as day she is- leaning forward on her knees, her chin cupped in her hand as she ogles the professor blatantly. “My friend warned me about him- he’s so gorgeous. Christ, what I would do to…”

“If you’d like to save any comments or observations on me and my teaching until after the class, that would be greatly appreciated,” the Professor says without looking up, making you both jump.

“She also told me he’s a hard ass…” she mumbles in your ear under her breath before leaning back into her seat. You can’t help but giggle at her comment. Unfortunately, this time, the professor looks up from his desk.

“You two aren’t going to cause me any trouble this semester, are you?” His question is directed at both of you, but his eyes are locked onto yours. His face is serious, an eyebrow cocked in question, and you can’t help but look away, too intimidated by his gaze. You feel a surge of heat course through you, displaying itself obviously on your cheeks. 

You shake your head, and that seems to be enough for the Professor, who stands up and turns to the blackboard behind him. 

“My name is Professor Healy…” he says as he writes his name on the chalkboard in big letters before launching into the lesson. 

You find yourself transfixed by him- his voice, his looks, his commentary. He’s insufferably intimidating, yet palpably gifted at teaching- the way he speaks keeping everyone in the room hanging on his every word up until the last 15 minutes of class when he tells everyone to spend the rest of the time reviewing the curriculum and reading lists for the semester. 

“I know this will be a very busy semester for all of you with very little time for much more than study and homework. Most teachers are not understanding of that, but I like for there to be mutual respect in my classroom. I allot extra time in all of my lessons for you to finalize your lesson notes, begin mapping out your assignments, and ask any questions you may have…” Professor Healy says as his eyes scan the room. You’re practically shaking in your seat as you wait for your inevitable turn with his gaze. “But this is a two-way street. If you are late, disruptive, or don’t hand in your work on time, I will assume you are not taking this class seriously, and you will be disciplined.” His eyes land on yours as he says the word ‘disciplined’ and you feel your cheeks flush as his words knock the air out of you. He pauses his speech for a moment, though it feels like a century as his dark eyes pierce through your soul, tickling something deep within your core. You suddenly become very aware of the wetness growing in your pants. You’re left in a hazy daze when he finally looks away.

“Is that understood?” He asks the class.

“Yes, Professor,” you say immediately, much louder than the mumbled “yes” and “yup” answers a few people gave, most people opting for silent nods. His eyes return to yours for the briefest of moments, something hidden behind them as he cocks his head ever so slightly to the side, but his eyes are gone before you can identify it.

As Professor Healy leaves you to your work, everyone turns to their papers, but you're still glued to him as he turns around, walking back towards his desk. You watch as he pulls off his sweater, another curl escaping the grip of his hair product as he does. 

Damn those fucking curls. 

He turns to hang his sweater over his chair and you can’t help but stare at his ass, perfectly perk in his tailored slacks. Before you can shake yourself from the thought of what it might feel like to explore its curve with your fingers, he turns and begins to unbutton the sleeve of his shirt before rolling it up to reveal several tattoos on his veiny forearm.

Fuck.

You force your eyes back to the curriculum sheet that had been passed around at the beginning of class, but find yourself unable to read the words. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to focus yourself, but the image of your Professor is burned into the inside of your eyelids.

“Alright, class, you're dismissed. I'll see you all on Friday,” Professor Healy says 15 minutes later. You stand, but before you can begin to gather your things, he looks over at you. “You two,” he says, looking at you and the girl behind you, “if you could stay behind for a few minutes, I’d like to speak to you both in private.” His tone gives nothing away, making you almost more terrified than if he’d given away the purpose of the conversation. 

You nod before shoving your notebooks into your bag and turn to approach his desk as the girl behind you joins. You stand silently and watch as Professor Healy neatly stacks his lesson plans, calmly placing them into his briefcase as the last few students file out of the classroom. Finally, he looks up at you both.

“What are your names?” He asks.

“Rebecca Schwartz,” the girl next to you says.

“Hazel Thompson… sir…” you tag on at the end, the ‘sir’ feeling necessary in this moment. You think you imagine his eyes brighten slightly in amusement at the extra word. He nods curtly in understanding. 

“This schools code of conduct requires that student-teacher relationships be founded on trust,” he begins, his dark, strong gaze towering over you. “Trust that we will treat each other professionally, with dignity and respect. I believe objectification does not bode well for that type of relationship, would you agree?” 

You nod, too terrified to speak as Rebecca says, “Yes, sir.” 

Professor Healy nods curtly once again at Rebecca before turning to you with raised eyebrows, obviously dissatisfied with your lack of words. 

“Yes, Professor,” you quickly sputter out. 

He looks at you from under thick dark lashes, the brown of his eyes darkening even more as he speaks. 

“Good girl,” he says softly.

Your eyes flutter softly at the praise, and you feel a swell of heat grow down south as his heavy-lidded eyes burn a hole through your soul. The silence in the room is deafening, the burning sensation of need between your legs becoming harder to ignore with every passing second. Just before you feel like you’re about to pass out from the tension, he dismisses you both. 

“Good afternoon, ladies. Miss Schwartz,” he says as he tips his chin to Rebecca in farewell who's already scrambling out the door like a spooked puppy, leaving you alone together. 

You turn before he can do any more damage with his gaze, walking shakily back to your seat to grab your bag. But you can feel his eyes burning a hole in your back. You find yourself wishing you’d worn something a bit more revealing, or at least done your hair- done something to impress him- then kick yourself, realizing you were doing the very thing he’d just scolded you about. You want to turn around and protest, point out that you didn’t say anything, that you weren’t the one objectifying him, that it was all Rebecca. But… you know that that’s not true. That you might as well have said it all out loud with how blatantly you stared at him. How you wondered if his ass felt as firm as it looked in those pants. How you could practically feel the softness of his curls under your fingers, the tenderness of those gorgeous pink lips against your skin-

“I would have thought you’d stand up for yourself a bit more, Miss Thompson,” you hear him say suddenly behind you, interrupting your train of thought, “being one of my more senior and experienced students.”

You whip around, bracing yourself for his gaze but find him casually rifling through his suitcase. 

So he did know. He knew all along that you didn’t say anything- that it was all Rebecca. You answer timidly, not wanting to offend him.

“I thought it’d be rude to correct you…” you say sheepishly, your voice almost a whisper. You watch as he raises his eyebrows patronizingly, still not looking at you, shaking his head to himself. It irritates you, his body language condescending, and the fire from earlier suddenly turns to anger. 

“Well I wouldn’t want to come across as disrespectful and lose your trust, Professor,” you say in an exaggerated tone before you can stop yourself, your smile sickly sweet.

Professor Healy looks up at you finally and you’re pleasantly surprised to see him smiling, entertained by your words. 

“If you’re not careful I’ll start to think you’re going for Teacher's Pet, Miss Thompson,” he says smugly. You watch the little fire dance in his eyes before eventually gesturing towards the door, and you walk out together. 

You stop in the doorway and turn to speak, not realizing just how closely he’d been following you. He stops before he can bump into you, and suddenly you’re only a couple inches apart at most, the tension between your bodies almost as intimate as if you were touching. You can’t help yourself. 

“Whatever pleases you, Professor,” you say, looking up at him doe-eyed. You're shocked by your own words. 

You see his jaw slack ever so slightly, the movement almost imperceptible. You watch his eyes cloud, his smug smile disappearing, replaced by his authoritative gaze. He leans down towards your ear, just by a fraction.

“Careful,” he breathes. Then before you can respond, he slips past you, his arm brushing against you as he passes, sending a shock of electricity through you before disappearing.

part 2

[yslende]

ask and ye shall receive!!! context + fic clipping below

context: both bruce and clark are AFAB in this au. bruce's deadname is antigone, clark's i haven't actually picked yet but whatever! antigone wayne isn't out publicly, clark kent is; batman is batman and kal jor-el is supergirl. woohoo!

(this isn't edited, sorry for grammar or weird plot stuff. i like to think that i write with good grammar, but idk. the stuff in bold is footnotes (yes i do footnotes. fight me) but tumblr doesn't support those. enjoy!! :) )

—

One miasma and crime-coated night, not to say that all days and nights in Gotham aren’t like that, the Bat sees a flying woman. She’s dressed in blue and red with a giant S on her chest, roaming around Gotham, looking for something. Presumably. Batman does a quick search online.

Supergirl, a superpowered alien native to Metropolis, became active around a year and a half ago. She fashions herself a hero, and Metropolis residents certainly aren’t complaining. The Daily Planet has several interviews with her on record, though in every single one the interviewer was Lois Lane. She has a multitude of powers, not limited to invincibility, superstrength, laser vision, and flight. He’s almost jealous.

Of course, he already knew all of that [He keeps tabs on everything that could threaten Gotham—the database already spans 12 terabytes—and a superpowered alien definitely applies. He already has four fully constructed contingency plans with phases, steps, and instructions prepared, but another four couldn’t hurt. [Yes, they could, but that’s to worry about later.]], but why she’s come to Gotham is still a mystery. The Bat plans to find out.

She lands a few roofs away from the Bat’s current stakeout spot, seemingly frustrated, but he knows better. She’s pointedly not looking towards where he’s watching, instead faux-searching the previous row of buildings that she’d already searched. She, quite literally, twiddles her thumbs.

He can’t get out of this, can he. He quickly adds super senses, x-ray vision? to the powers list before standing, silencing the click of his boots to try and stay hidden as long as he can, knowing that it’s a futile effort. To her credit, Supergirl does a good job of pretending to be fooled.

“What do you want,” he intones, standing with shadows draped over him like blankets. Right now, to a normal human, he’d be a pair of white slits where his eyes are. He has no idea what Supergirl sees. 

She pretends to startle. “Dear—Rao, you scared me!” She rubs a hand on the back of her neck, smiling sheepishly, before flying over to stand in front of him.

Her eyes are inhumanly blue, with glowing white irises. They’re enchanting.

“Leave Gotham.” He narrows his eyes.

“Woah there!” she says, holding her hands up, palms out. Is she trying to look less intimidating? Does she think that he’ll think that she’s, what, cramping his I am a terrifying vigilante style? “I just want to talk to you! Can you spare five minutes?”

“No.”

“Three minutes?”

“No.”

“One minute and you consider what I say?”

He considers. “No.”

“Great!” Supergirl looks inordinately pleased with herself and her technicality. She takes a deep breath, one that seems to make a slight rattling purr. “So!”

One excruciating minute later, the Bat has a rudimentary understanding of the superhero club Supergirl’s trying to start and an unwelcome reminder of why he stopped watching most videos on 2x speed. He squints his eyes further.

Supergirl’s stopped floating, holding her hands behind her back and looking cheery. Even standing at his full height with his boots, she’s taller than him.

To be fair, it’s not a completely unsalvageable idea. Having an alliance already set up for world-ending threats with other superpowered people saves the ideological arguments for drawing the contracts up, not when something’s trying to absorb all oxygen from Earth or something similar. [Simply a hypothetical; Ivy doesn’t work at as large of a scale.] Supergirl already has a roster in mind, including him for some reason, but that’s about all that’s been prepared in advance.

There are several flaws with this plan: first, he doesn’t have superpowers. Supergirl had explicitly said “superhero team,” and he fits on none of the counts. Besides that oversight, the logistics weren’t thought out at all. Where would they be operating? What are they planning to do? Who’s taking responsibility for this? How are they going to settle the power structure? Conflicts of interest? The governmental alliances alone deserve an entirely separate discussion, and funding—dear God, funding.

All of it is incredibly idealistic. Did Supergirl come all the way to Gotham to propose a first draft to the Bat of Gotham? That’s an insult, even disregarding the fact that she’d interrupted him on patrol.

“Why now decide to make a team?” As good an opener as any. Supergirl seems to mistake his skepticism as curiosity, looking pleased.

“So, the United Nations contacted me—” she grimaces for a split-second— “and asked if I could be their interplanetary defense person. Basically. And I’m totally not against that!” She holds her hands palms-outward again, bashful. “But I don’t think it’s a job I can do totally on my own. And I felt like it was right to ask, since you’re kinda the first superhero, y’know?”

He did not know that. Some quick mental math reveals—yeah, he was the first. Supergirl made her debut a few months after he did, Wonder Woman revealed Themyscira shortly after, and now it’s a tossup of which superhuman will come out of the woodwork this month. Fuck, and he started it. Shit.

He grunts. She hesitates, before taking it in stride. “What do you think? Questions, comments?”

Plenty, but he doesn’t care to give her the entire roadmap. “Short-sighted. This ‘Justice Party’” —some vicious, clawed airquotes are employed— “will starve to death even with my involvement.” What did she think was going to happen? Her and her tea party sing kumbaya while he duct tapes the entire operation together?

Supergirl winces. “So that’s a no?” She sounds disgustingly hopeful.

He glares at 52% intensity. “No.” 

As her face falls, the Bat fades into the darkness, jumping off the building almost faster than the human eye can see. He doesn't have any data on what Supergirl can and can't see.

As he makes his exit, he hears a faint, frustrated “Goddammit,” alongside a sniffle.

It’s good for her to be disappointed now, Bruce tells himself. The world is disappointing, cruel, and unkind, and it’s best for her to shape up before she actually puts it into motion.

He tells himself that, listening to Supergirl fly off crying.

( @securitycapecreature wanted to be tagged when the fic was posted; i think this counts at least a little)

[suzukiblu]

Tim

"Oh well this is definitely a problem," Kon says. Robin doesn't say anything, because Robin is currently trying to kiss his whole stupid face off, for some reason.

It's pretty out of character.

So yeah, definitely a problem.

"Poison Ivy?" Impulse guesses, watching curiously as Robin literally climbs Kon what the fuck. Kon is not prepared to be literally fucking climbed right now, or ever. Especially not while getting very thoroughly groped in the process because, like, never underestimate a Bat's capacity for multitasking, Jesus fucking Christ. "Poison Ivy is a Gotham thing, right?"

"Maybe?" Arrowette says doubtfully. "He kind of beelined straight for Superboy the moment he got here, though, and you and Secret were both closer to him. I thought Poison Ivy's stuff was more . . . indiscriminate?"

"Maybe mind control?" Wonder Girl suggests.

"Or a love spell?" Secret puts in.

"Literally any one of you could be saving me right now," Kon mentions as he attempts to escape Robin's very dedicated climbing. Said escape attempt is a resounding failure.

Is this how it feels to be a skyscraper in Gotham, he wonders?

"Just be patient, okay, you're the best option for him to fixate on until we figure this out anyway," Arrowette says dismissively, waving him off.

"In what freaking way?!" Kon demands incredulously, just staring at her. Robin wraps his arms around his neck and nuzzles his throat. Kon tries very, very hard to ignore him, which is also a resounding failure.

"Because Impulse is like four and the rest of us are all girls," Arrowette replies reasonably, because apparently that answer makes sense in her head, somehow? "Anyway, what, like you've never made out with somebody for superhero stuff?"

"I'm two," Kon reminds her.

Arrowette . . . pauses.

"Um," she says.

"Also I'm really not into the idea of kissing somebody who in their right mind wouldn't want me kissing them?" Kon says. "Like. That sucks, when somebody you don't want kissing you kisses you."

". . . um," Arrowette repeats, and now looks just a little bit nauseous. "Okay. Good point. Uh . . . Robin, hey, maybe you could . . . unclimb Superboy, maybe? Just for a sec?"

"I could," Robin agrees, and goes to absolutely no effort to do so.

". . . would you, please?" Arrowette tries.

"No," Robin says, staring at Kon's mouth with clear malicious intent. Kon really hopes he isn't packing any kryptonite today.

"I'm kind of worried about hurting him if we try just prying him off," Wonder Girl says awkwardly, hovering just out of reach of any theoretical Bat-tasers, which is probably wise at this point. "Like he's all . . . you know, normal-strengthed and everything. Not super or wonder-strengthed."

"That would be why I haven't done any prying yet, yeah," Kon says, just eyeing Robin's way too intent expression warily. He is also concerned about Bat-tasers, at this point. And, again: kryptonite. Kryptonite could definitely be a concern right now.

Kon has so many concerns right now.

Are kryptonite tasers a thing?

He really hopes not.

[childlikegoblinqueen]

Pre-Belos Grimwalker Tale Exclusive!

I'm going to post this on AO3 eventually, but this is in response to an ask about eventually exploring the Evoldo's rise to power and the Kingdom of Lovoed/Nommeking where Osran's spirit servant was first sacrificed.

I'm not going to tell anymore of their story (yet), but I wanted to leave this here:

TW: suggestive language, mentions of enslavement and violence, blood, and abuse.

This is a bit more mature than some other stuff, so I am putting it below the veil.

Off to work on Blight of the Living Dead AND some more post SCOM projects.

Root of Evil

The young man took note of his reflection in the mirror outside the old clothing vendor. 

Pale skin. Pale hair. His horns curved back on either side of his head. He looked right. He looked left. Everyone always said they were his finest feature, the way they accented his pointed ears perfectly. 

He drew a spell circle weaving small braids on either side, and with them, tiny springs of lilac flowers and ivy. 

Adjusting his tunic just so, he flicked his tail in satisfaction, and checked the clasp on the green gem he wore dangling from his left ear. The color matched his eyes perfectly.

“I see you are already a witch of taste, sir gardener,” the merchant chuckled, “but I am certain a gentlewitch of your standing would not be wearing your work uniform during the evenings you have not come from work.”

“Ah. You would be surprised,” the young man cleared his throat, “King Alder has made sure that his royal gardeners are held in high regard for our work displaying all the beauty the of the Titan’s flora.”

“Hmmm. My own husband is enamored with the field of firecracker crocuses this time of year.” he nodded.

“Ah!” The young man’s eyes lit up, “That was my first assignment when I got this job! Those fields were pretty enough when I arrived at my post, but the real work in making them that lovely was recognizing where the weeds had set into the flesh beneath the soil.”

“And how would one figure that out?” The shopkeeper scratched his chin.

“Well!” the young man clapped his hands together, “where I was born, my parents taught me how to recognize rash weeds on the Titan’s skin. If you scratch them at just the right place you can relieve all of them and your plants – crocuses especially will give bigger fireballs in the sunset.”

“And this is why the king hires real witches to do this work. To pull up the weeds by the roots that is.” the shopkeeper snapped his fingers, “CLAVI!”

A thin boy, no older than 15 padded out of the shop with a snake measure. 

“Take this gentlewitch’s measurements for one of the new suits.” The shopkeeper ordered. The boy, Clavi worked quickly. Thin cracked hands measured the young man’s chest and lithe shoulders and the space between the middle of his shoulders and his neck. 

Without another word, he disappeared back into the shop to return with a fine deep teal jacket woven with some of the favorite symbols of Lovoed. Stars and swords and snapping snapdragons. A stonesleeper in a muzzle. A basilisk. And galderstones, of course. 

“It’s lovely, truly.” The young man ran a finger over the fabric. He knew he would best save his snails for a day when the rain boiled at its worse, but he’d received a bonus for his last weeks’ work and sent it all to his parents and what harm would it do him to look nice? 

Clavi, smiled slightly from beneath his dark hair. As if he was pleased that the young man admired this garment so much. 

“Did you make this?” he asked the boy. 

“Of course he didn’t!” The merchant stepped in. “I wouldn’t allow its hands on anything in this shop…” he eyed Clavi’s actual hands. Chapped and shaking. Touching the lapel to make sure it sat smooth over the young man’s chest. 

“I mean, to make the item!” The merchant swatted the boy. His ears flicked and he quickly retracted his hands. “The clothing at this shop is 100% made by real witches.” 

“Hmmmm. Is that right?” The young man said steadily. “Real, witches you say?”

Clavi’s shoulders drooped slightly. 

“Oh. don’t expect an answer from him.” The shopkeep laughed. “He had a nasty habit of speaking out of turn when we bought him, so we cut out his tongue.” he leaned in. “Clavi. You and your breed do not sew the items we sell here, do you?”

Clavi raised his tired red eyes to meet the young man’s. Slowly, the boy shook his head. 

“I think that tells me all I need.” The young man slipped out of the jacket. “I thought this was grift avenue! I have to spend my wages carefully, I won’t have any part of my leisure wardrobe be made in a sweatshop full of grimwalker werms.”

“I already told you,” the merchant growled. “that my wares are made by REAL witches. When you say this, what you are truly saying is that there is no fine spider silk from my shop that you would find yourself better dressed in?”

“If you prefer!” The young man snorted. He slid his green eyes over Clavi’s thin body, “but you and I know the truth? Eh?”

“Full of yourself, are you?” The merchant hissed, “you are still just a gardener, you know? Don’t act because you play around in the dirt on the Titan that you are some sort of actual noble! We honest witches are all here to make an honest living! I’ll have you know that Clavi’s ortet was a fine boy with the best embroidery skills and when he was lost in the war, we went through three more attempts to make sure we grew at least one that was up to scratch!”

“You’ll have no luck with this one!” A high pitched voice chuckled. The current head gardener clapped the young man on his shoulder. “His tastes are far beyond what a tourist trap like this could possibly offer!”

The merchant scowled at the newcomers. A band of three more witches, all dressed in the finery that indicated they worked as royal groundskeepers. “Very well, mistress.” he told her. “I suppose none of you – just three steps above scullery maids – would want to wear anything tasteful on your way to the whorehouses full of grimwalker werms?” 

“Ah!” The head gardener laughed. Her three eyes turned up, closed. “You know you may be right there!” she shared a smile with the others, “but our boy here has much more discerning taste than the rest of us!”

“Right.” Chuckled another gardener, “He wouldn‘t lower himself to partake in the fruits of the red eye district.”

“That’s enough.” The young man grumbled.

“Too bad,” the merchant smirked, “You’ll find they are quite compliant to whatever you want. And if not? Well if you pay the house enough, they will make sure the grims comply.”

The young man rolled his green eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I will duck out on tonight’s festivities,” he told the head gardener. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“Ha!” one of the gardeners chuckled. “You’ll find clothing isn’t the only thing that this one has a discerning taste in.”

“That’s none of your concern,” the young man smirked. “I’ll take my leave, if its all the same to you, mistress.”

“It’s your evening off!” chuckled another gardener, “You don’t have to ask!”

“Already have plans without your coworkers, sir snob?” the merchant taunted. “I suppose he has some silly paramour who is enamored with his station in the castle?” 

“He’s enamored with some noble. It’s obvious.” The head gardener chuckled, “we just haven’t figured out who he’s playing with just yet. Now.” she turned to the merchant. “I would LOVE to see what you have for a night of leisure. I’ve not spent my snails on a new bodice and set of silk trousers since last the wailing star passed by.”

____________________

The whistling sound wove its way through the air. The young man waited for the answer. It led him to the walls of the old locked garden with ribbons of red. 

When he finally arrived, he drew three spell circles. One to summon stairs up to the top of the walls, one to rebraid his hair around his horns, and another to grow a bouquet of flowers. 

“Cliche isn’t it?” the witch asked as he stepped over the garden wall, stairs crumbling into the ground behind him. “A royal gardener, wooing a princess?”

She smirked and tossed her tight black curls over her dark shoulder. 

“No more cliche than a princess who is in love with her royal gardener,” the young man chuckled. 

“Hmmmm.” she hummed playfully, “who said I’m in love with you?”

The young man felt his entire armor melt immediately. He let his shoulders fall and his tail twitched with interest. “Guess I’ve got to give these flowers to some other witch then?”

“Oh please!” she rolled her eyes, “come on over here.”

They sat for a while, Shoulder to shoulder, saying very little. Watching the stars reflect over the top of the knee high above. 

“Why did you want to meet here?” he asked quietly, “Instead of in town? Or you know… uhhh.?”

“In my room?” the princess’ smile grew playful. “My father is entertaining guests. Traveling oracles from the left palm I think.”

“Your father. King Alder, is entertaining foreigners?” he mocked a choke, “That would imply that he agrees to admit that there's parts of the Titan that do NOT belong to him.” he narrowed his eyes, “What’s his game, Thistle?”

“No clue.” the princess sighed, “But he’s been looking for a royal oracle for years. He must be pretty desperate since this one set up shop in the middle of town. My brother seems pretty taken with the older of the two though.” 

“Your father would never marry off his prize possession to a traveling oracle.” the young man shook his head, “not unless they could bring him a pretty hefty prize.”

“True.” Thistle laughed, “But they can have fun without a marriage contract. Unlike a spare, like myself, The Titan has plans and Calix is meant for great things. I am but a pawn to be married off to some minor cousin of a noblewitch to increase the king’s reserve of galdorstones!”

The young man’s chest went heavy. 

“I didn’t mean…” Thistle shook her head. “I had to fake a headache to get out of the banquet tonight. Calix is all MOONEYED over the older guest like he wants to have a very particular kind of Midnight Conjuring with him.”

“That’s a terrible joke, Thistle.” The young man laughed. 

“Like you haven’t thought of that one for us” Thistle shook her head. Their gazes met. “Anyway, the younger brother gives me the literal creeps. It’s like he’s using his sight to see what’s beneath my skirts.”

“So don’t wear skirts?” The young man raised a brow suggestively. 

“Oh shut up!” Thistle threw her head back. “You know I prefer my market slacks anyway!”

“So.” The young man cleared his throat, “Before the merchant oracle sweeps you off your feet for a cliche tryst, do you think I might be allowed a kiss goodbye?”

“Oh, please.” Thistle smiled. She slipped her hands over his chest, “You know the only ‘cliche tryst’ I’m interested in is ours.”

The young man leaned in. The heat of their lips nearly pressed together, when he felt a weight on his left ear. 

“You know I won’t kiss you,” the princess said, “unless I can look at you as you actually are.” 

The young man nodded slowly. He let her release the concealment stone. 

“Thistle –” he whispered. He could see his bright magenta eyes reflected in her dark gaze. 

She smiled and closed the space with a kiss.

[sta-ccat-o]

Lovely pfp!!! Any mechs hc you like to share??

Thanksies!

I don’t know if any of these hcs are particularly unique to me but i’ll share some of my favorites :)

Jonny was born blond and as he grew his hair kept getting darker. it stopped darkening when he was mechanized.

They only keep scars that are important to the story. I like to think that Jonny has a scar around his neck from being beheaded in gptvtmk and stuff like that.

The mechs do that thing where one of them will tell another a secret and tell them not to tell anyone else and then they’ll tell another person and tell them not to tell anyone else so they all know the secret but they can’t tell each other they know.

Sometimes you’ll just hear clanging from above you on the Aurora. Vents are not as quiet place to crawl through as Nastya likes to think they are.

They all speak a weird language that they sort of made together. It combines a lot of influences from different planets and their home planets.

The inside jokes go fucking crazy. Sometimes a joke making fun of someone will not be said for a couple hundred years or so and the mech being made fun of will finally think they’re clear. Then Ivy will bring it up and they’re forever tormented again.

Tim dissociates a lot, and most of the time he’s just on auto pilot. He tends to need to be reminded to come back in to focus.

Marius is the type of fucker to congratulate someone on news before they’ve announced it to anyone. Like, someone will come out of a depressive episode and not realize it yet. Then he’ll say “I’m glad you’re feeling better” and they’ll be like. Oh. I am feeling better aren’t I?

I have more but I’ll save em for if someone asks again lol