#((Happy to plot further or start something different!))

[imaginedisish]

Liquid Smooth (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Started writing this last night...sooo happy you guys wanted a sex pollen fic! Hope it lives up to everyone's expectations! This one is (obviously) inspired by "Liquid Smooth," by Mitski. ENJOY!

Summary: A simple mission deep in a forest alone with Logan quickly gets out of hand when you just have to go and pick a flower...

Warnings: 18+ EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MINORS DNI! Dry humping, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), Sex Pollen (so dub!con just to be safe, but not really), Multiple orgasms, Porn Without Plot...literally, implied!age gap, cursing, friends to lovers, fem!reader/afab!reader, probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 3,797 muahaha

“I don’t need a goddamn babysitter,” you murmur as Logan thumbs through the controls of the X-Jet. “Could’ve done this by myself.” 

Logan scoffs. “I’m not your babysitter, princess.” You roll your eyes at the nickname Logan has specially reserved just for you. “Charles said we’d be safer going together. He knows you can handle yourself.”

The X-Jet cruises effortlessly through the clouds. The air is still today. Calm. You and Logan are on your way to get some sort of flower that Charles claims to have extensive healing properties. It’s an easy mission. No fighting. No violence. You’re unlikely to have to use your powers at all. And yet, you’ve been paired with Logan. 

It wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t—admittedly—a little into him. Or rather, pining after him. There’s just something about the sarcasm that’s always thick in his voice; the way he squeezes himself into those thin beaters. How he’s always so self-assured, so thoroughly convinced he’s right. You just can’t help it. You want him. But he isn’t yours, and he probably never will be. He’s a little older—well, a lot, considering he’s been around forever. And you know it’s safer not to make attachments—not to fall in love.

Unfortunately, it’s a little too late for that. 

But having him here with you now, alone, with no buffers…it’s overwhelming. You can smell him—that mix of tobacco and pine and musk and him. He’s suddenly everywhere, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You watch as his long fingers press different buttons, his hands gripping the steering wheel, adjusting thrusters. You stare at those fingers for far too long, your thoughts drifting to what else he can do with them. You think about him curling them deep inside you, stretching you open and—

“Everything okay?” You snap your head to face Logan, swallowing harshly as his voice pulls you back to reality. 

You force a smile, nodding. “Yep!” You say, overcompensating just a bit. “All good,” you lie. You close your eyes, trying to push thoughts of Logan out of your head, denying the heat growing between your legs.

“Good, because we’re almost there,” Logan says, the X-Jet descending carefully. You look out the window to see the trees below. There’s a lake in the distance, but that’s it. No civilization, no houses—no one. It’s empty, peaceful. 

“We’re really in the middle of nowhere, huh?” You say, glancing at Logan. 

His eyes meet yours and he smiles. Warmth blooms in your heart at the sight. “My kind of place,” he says back. The X-Jet descends further as you approach a clear spread of grass to land on just ahead. 

This is, in fact, not your kind of place. The humidity creeps up your back and settles under your skin. The forest is overgrown and impossible to navigate. You let Logan slice through the plant life with his claws, swiping back and forth whenever something gets in your way.

You haven’t been walking for long, but you’re already done. Perhaps Charles was right; a partner is not the worst idea on a mission like this. 

You can see the flower just ahead—yellow petals and a long, green, viny stem. It glows brightly even under the dense forest canopy. “Semper in tenebris lux,” Charles had said; there is always light in darkness. And he was right. The flower illuminates everything in its path. Next to it, you can see a pretty, lavender-colored flower. You stop in your tracks, letting Logan wander ahead as you crouch down to stroke the purple petals. 

“Charles didn’t say anything about not taking other flowers too, right?” You call out, watching as Logan swipes carefully at the stem of the yellow flower. He holds the dainty stem in his large hands as he walks back over to you. 

“No, he didn’t. But you should be careful. It could be poisonous or—”

You ignore Logan, picking the flower anyway. You hold it up to your nose and breathe in. It’s sweet and fragrant. You twist the stem and realize the flower is sticky with sap and pollen. Your twist shakes some of the pollen up, and it lands all over your face. 

“Shit,” you mutter, wiping it away. A gust of wind sweeps through the forest, knocking the flower out of your hand and spreading more of its pollen in the air. You can feel it in your nostrils, getting caught in your throat.

Logan furrows his brows as the pollen falls to the ground. “What the fuck did you do?”

You roll your eyes. “All I did was pick a flower!” You lift your hands, feigning innocence. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” You stand up, glancing once at the yellow flower in Logan’s hands and then back at Logan. “It’s pretty.”

He parts his lips, his stare focused on you. “Yeah, it is.” There’s something else in that stare, in those words. Like maybe he isn’t only talking about the flower. You shove those thoughts down as you turn around and walk back to the jet.

Your steps are suddenly very heavy. You scratch at your shoulder. Heat blooms in your chest, your stomach, across your face. You’re irritated and overheated and itchy. Your breath grows heavier and rougher with every step. 

Logan notices immediately. He stops, grabbing your arm. You can’t control the way you lean into his touch, nor the way you’re craving more. “Hey,” he soothes, eyes searching your face. “Are you okay?” There’s a hint of panic in his voice. 

You swallow harshly, nodding. Your throat feels thick, your skin tight and oppressive. “’M’fine,” you mumble. 

“Quit lying. I can tell something’s wrong,” Logan demands. You open your mouth to persuade him otherwise, but he doesn’t give you the chance, his grip tightening around your arm. “Your skin is on fucking fire, princess. What did you do?” He cocks his head, sniffing as he furrows his brows. His voice is darker now, slower as his eyes widen. “What the fuck did you do?”

You take in a sharp breath. And that’s when you feel it, the ache between your thighs, the slick arousal soaking through your panties. The realization smacks you in the face. For a moment, you’re clear-headed, but still terrified. The pollen. That goddamn, fucking pollen. “Logan, look, I think that purple flower had some—"

He cuts you off as he yanks your arm, tugging you towards the ship. “We need to get you back to the jet, okay?”

“Oh, I am so fucked,” you cry. You know you only have a few seconds left before the effects really kick in. “L-Logan,” you stutter, almost moaning as your core burns stronger with need. “T-the pollen was everywhere. What if you got some too?” 

He ignores you, handing you the yellow flower you came here for in the first place. He sweeps one hand under your legs and keeps the other at your back as he lifts you in his arms—bridal style. You can feel his heart beating in his chest. You lean into him again, searching for relief. Wetness pools between your legs. You have never felt this needy before. Your desire hurts, burns, scorches you. You rut your hips, clenching down around nothing. 

“S-stop doing that,” Logan spits, restrained and quiet. 

“C-can’t,” you whine. “It hurts, Logan. It hurts so fucking bad. How come you aren’t like this too?”

He pulls you tighter to his chest. “I feel a little something, but that might just…”

You tilt your head up to look at him. He works his jaw, that perfect jaw. You want to bite it, to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “Might just be what?” You ask, tentatively brushing your lips against the hollow of his throat. 

“Nothing, just—fuck,” he groans as you press soft, open-mouthed kisses all around his neck now. “Don’t do that, princess. You don’t want this.”

“But I do, Logan,” you beg. The ramp to the jet lowers as you and Logan approach. “N-need you.” You bury your face into his shoulder, breathing him in. “Need y-you all the time.” The confession slips easily from your lips. 

Logan’s eyes widen as he walks up the ramp and into the ship. It lifts and seals shut behind him. “You don’t mean that, sweetheart. Let’s just get you back to the mansion as quickly as possible, yeah?”

He places you down on the seat next to him, taking the flower from your hands and putting it in the jar Charles had given you. The leather cold at your back almost feels good, almost relieving��until you realize Logan is no longer holding you, touching you. You reach out towards him, grabbing his arms, pulling him back in. “Don’t go,” you plead, nails digging into his biceps. Your body is on fire. Everything is unbearably painful. “Please,” you whimper. “Need you so fucking bad, just you.” 

“Fuck,” Logan curses. “I am not taking advantage of you. I am not doing this.” He stands, freeing himself from your grasp and walking over to the pilot’s chair. “I’m getting you back to the mansion and we’re going to fix this, okay?”

But that’s not good enough for you. You stand up and walk over to Logan. Your steps are shaky, your legs trembling. Your chest heaves, your heart beating rapidly. You climb into Logan’s lap, straddling him, one leg on either side. “Logan, I can’t fucking wait,” you cry, grinding down onto his lap. The pressure feels delicious.  He grabs your hips, stilling you, forcing you in place. And that’s when you feel it: his erection, hard underneath your core. “This isn’t you. You don’t really want this, don’t really want m—”

“It is me,” you protest, squirming against his hold. “Logan, I’ve wanted you for months. I-I was thinking about you t-touching me the whole way here.” You remember the way his fingers dexterously pushed all the right buttons. Need courses through you like a river, and as Logan’s hold on your hips softens, you grind down into his lap, against his erection. “S-so good,” you cry out. 

His hands are still on your hips, but now he’s guiding you, rocking you against his cock. “J-just this though, okay?” 

You hum, pressing your forehead to his, rolling your hips faster. The relief is like heaven. His arms wrap around your back, his fingers trailing up and down soothingly. Logan ruts into you, his erection straining against his jeans. You can feel yourself getting closer, but the pain, the need, it’s all still the same. 

“Logan, it’s not gonna be enough,” you whisper, his lips ghosting yours. “N-need more. Hurts so bad.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, like he’s scared to truly touch you. But he wants to consume your pain, to take it away, to feel it for you. You can see it written across his face, in the way his cock throbs against your swollen clit, how he snaps his hips into yours. 

“I know, princess,” he coos, his hands like fire on your back. Your walls contract around nothing, begging for something to hold onto, to feel something sink deep inside. “Gonna take care of you.” He kisses you again, with more vigor this time, more passion. “I’ve got you, darlin’.”

You moan into his mouth. His composure is slipping, disintegrating with every roll, every rock of your hips against his. His cock notches against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure up the base of your spine. He hikes your shirt up, the cold air hitting your overheated skin. “F-feels good,” you stammer. You’re almost there, almost hitting that peak. “S-so close.”

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes. “Let go for me, know you can do it.” 

You moan his name, your orgasm crashing into you like a crescendo. You know you’re soaking through your clothes, and probably onto Logan’s too. He’s still rutting against you, giving you more. He knows it’s not going to be enough, and he’s right. Need builds back up just as quickly as you found your release. 

 “Lo…” you trail off, looking up at him under lust-filled eyes. You swallow harshly, squirming in his lap helplessly. “G-gotta have you.” 

He presses his forehead to yours. He works his jaw, parting his lips. “Y-you meant it when you said you wanted me before this?” But he already knows the answer. He knows you wouldn’t lie to him about that, not even now. 

“Yes,” you whine, pulling him closer. He tugs your shirt all the way over your head and picks you up, hands firmly gripping your ass. “Still gonna want you after this, too.”

He curses under his breath as he places you down in the pilot’s chair. He’s frenzied and frantic as he hooks his thumbs into your pants and panties, yanking them down your legs and casting them to the side. 

He spreads your legs with the palms of his hands, his thumbs brushing soft circles into your inner thighs. He’s kneeling, looking up at you. Your breath catches in your throat as his face settles between your legs. 

“Could smell you before, pretty girl,” he husks, his breath fanning over your clit. “Wanted this so fucking bad.” He doesn’t keep you waiting, licking a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. “Knew you’d taste perfect. Pretty fucking pussy.” 

You throw your head back as his lips latch onto your clit, sucking harshly. He slips one hand across your back, keeping you close. His free hand climbs up your thigh, fingers exploring your folds as his tongue flits across your swollen bud. He spreads your arousal, prodding against your entrance before shoving two fingers deep inside you. “Logan!” You cry out, your walls clenching around him. He’s stretching you out, his fingers dragging inside you. He pulls out and plunges back in. He isn’t taking his time, isn’t teasing. He’s giving you what you need, pump after pump. 

You look down at him, his face buried in your cunt, consuming you, swallowing you whole like a starving man. He’s lost inside you, lapping at you with unwavering hunger and desire. His tongue swirls around your clit, his teeth grazing ever so slightly. You moan his name again, and he hums against you, the vibrations of his bassy voice rocking through your body. He’s wrecking you, but it feels so goddamn good. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he goads you along. He’s adding a third finger now, and you suck him in. You’d take anything he gives you, anything at all. “Doing so good for me, taking it so well.” 

He sucks roughly, your walls clenching around him at the feeling. “Yeah?” He grunts, sucking again. “You like that? Feels good?” 

“Y-yes,” you stammer, stumbling over that one simple word. “S-so fucking good.” 

“I know, beautiful,” he groans, nipping at your clit in between his rough sucks. “Gonna make that hurt go away, okay?” His voice is like honey, sugar; it’s sweet, addictive. “You just gotta come for me again, can you do that?” His tongue strokes your clit, his fingers pumping faster now. 

You nod your head emphatically, pleasure surging as you near your peak. “Yeah, I-I can,” you huff. 

Logan smiles against your cunt between rough laps. “I know you can, sweetheart.” His fingers scissor inside you, deeper than before. He takes your clit between his lips again, sucking hard. 

And that’s all it takes—you’re screaming his name, coming undone, unraveling underneath him. The release is even better than the first, more full, more complete. Logan thrusts in and out a few more times before slowly pulling his fingers from your cunt. He licks one more long stripe through your folds and looks up into your eyes. 

For a moment, the fire inside has been quenched. You feel clear, levelheaded. But it doesn’t last long. “Fuck,” you moan, your head hitting against the headrest of the chair. The fire is back, spreading across your stomach, your chest. “Logan,” you whimper. “I n-need more.”

“It’s okay, pretty girl,” he coos, taking you back up into his arms. He hoists you out of the seat, his hands finding your ass, squeezing softly. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you across the jet, setting you down on a storage container. 

You bring your hands up to his biceps. “Need you this time, Lo,” you choke, stroking up and down his arms as the heat builds painfully between your thighs. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes searching yours. 

“Always wanted you, always sure,” you whisper, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Wanted you too,” he husks. “But I wanted it to be different, to—” You cut him off. “Just want you. It’s okay like this. I promise.” You grind against him, his erection still straining inside the denim of his jeans. 

He takes the hint, and quickly unbuckles his belt, casting the leather to the metal floor with a clunk. He’s unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, shoving them down his legs, and lining himself up with your entrance. You push your hips forward, giving him better access. His other hand pushes your bra above your breasts, exposing you completely to him. 

With one hand on his cock and one squeezing your tits gently, he thrusts himself into you. He’s so deep—down to the hilt—stretching you out and working you open. He groans, flicking your nipple with his thumb, his lips at the shell of your ear. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine, quenching that fire inside. “So warm, so tight.” He pulls out and plunges back in again, filling you up. 

“Lo,” you whine. “More.”

“I know,” he growls, his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out with every thrust. “Gonna take care of you, pretty girl.” He squeezes your tits once more before sliding his hand down your body and slipping between where the two of you connect. His fingers find your clit, drawing rough circles around the bud. “That feel good, beautiful?” 

“Y-yes, Logan, so fucking good,” you cry out as he rocks into you. His other hand grips your hip tightly, holding you in place. You hope there’s a bruise there later—proof that he touched you, proof that he fucked into you like the world was ending. 

His cock rubs against your walls, your muscles contracting around him, sucking him in deeper. “Squeezing me so good, sweetheart,” he praises, his lips crashing down onto yours, swallowing your moans. He’s taking all of you, hard and fast. You can feel him twitching inside you, throbbing with the same need you feel pulsing through your veins. 

Logan kisses your jaw, and then just underneath, biting down on your pulse point. You arch your back, your chest meeting his. The contact is delicious, the friction a necessity. He thrusts into you faster now, doing his all to satiate your every need. He’s getting you there, pump after pump, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time. 

It’s working. You can feel yourself slipping again, melting. “Logan,” you hum, too fucked out to say anything other than his name. That beautiful name, like a song in the air, a gentle prayer, a holy ghost. He’s all you need—all you’ve ever needed. 

Your walls contract, squeezing him tightly. “Fuck,” he mutters. You know he’s close too. He strokes your clit, circling roughly. “Come on, pretty girl. You can do it, let me get you there again.” 

“Lo,” you cry, your eyes fluttering open and shut as he fucks into you, rutting his hips, plunging deeper still. It’s all too much. You can feel the pleasure drumming inside you, coming to a head. 

Logan loosens his grip on your hip and slides his hand behind your back, pulling you into his chest. You rest your forehead against his. “Come on my cock, princess, let go.” And you do. You’d do anything for him. You moan as your orgasm tears through you. It’s all blinding white heat, liquid smooth, pleasure wracking your body. 

Logan curses under his breath, close behind. He pulses inside you once, and then he’s coming undone. Your arms wrap around his back, keeping him close, letting him know it’s okay to finish inside. He fills you up, whispering praises in your ear as you both come down from your high. Such a good fucking girl. Did so good for me. So fucking good. Perfect little pussy.

He’s still inside you, pumping slowly as you ride out your orgasm. His fingers let go of your clit, his hands running up your back and tugging you closer to him. He slowly pulls out, keeping you tight against his chest. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers against the shell of your ear. You take a deep breath, waiting for the heat to build again, waiting for that need to surge every cell of your being. But there’s nothing. Your nerves are suddenly quiet—silent. 

“I-I think it’s over,” you stutter, still nervous that maybe it’s not. He keeps you there, holding you tightly, ready to start again if necessary. 

After a few minutes, you let yourself relax. It’s not coming back. It’s over. 

Logan presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head. “I’ve still got you. Not going anywhere.” Your heart rate has finally slowed down. The heat is gone. You feel comfortable in your skin again. You take a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into Logan’s chest. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, princess,” Logan reassures, his voice gentle and soft. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You nod against him, but you still feel a sting in your heart. You need to make him know that you meant what you said—need him to know exactly how you feel. You swallow nervously, ready to bite the bullet. 

“Logan,” you breathe. “I-I meant everything I said. It wasn’t just the pollen.” You pull yourself from his chest, looking up at him. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you…” you trail off. “S-still need you now. Nothing’s changed.” 

He smiles down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I know, darlin’,” he husks. “I wanted you before, and I still do, too.” 

“I know you wanted it to be different. I know it wasn’t—” But he cuts you off, his lips capturing yours, quieting your anxious rambles. “We’ll have other chances. Other times to do it the way I want.” He smirks, running his hands up and down your back. 

Other chances. Other times. More. More. More. “Yeah?” You ask. 

“Yeah, princess.”

tags: @wolviesgirl @dojacatswink @dilf420 @spiderset @pleasantlycrazyworld @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @y-ns-things

[hitomisuzuya]

yandere!hybrid scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. porn with a little plot. breeding kink. cunnilingus. masturbation. cream pie. degradation. scara in heat. aggressive/possessive behavior.

i just wanted to write about scara as a hybrid for a bit. don't mind this high nonsense. it turned out way long, oml, i'm sorry😭

you could never have cats growing up. so when the opportunity to take one in presented itself, you naturally took it. scaramouche was very weak, and very injured when you found him laying underneath a cardboard box in an alley.

you couldn't bear to leave him out in the cold, and freezing rain. scaramouche huddled further into the cardboard box, hissing when you crouched down to reach for him. he fought you the whole time, hissing, scratching and biting until you finally managed to wrestle him into your arms, wrapping your jacket around him and cradling him to your chest so he could get warm.

the whole time you were cooing to him soothingly. "shh, kitty, it's okay. we will get you inside, and fed. i promise. and get you feeling better." scaramouche was incredibly startled finding out your voice was soothing.

a few instances on the way home, he thought he almost fell asleep listening to the sound of your heartbeat. it made him focus a little less on the pain in his very injured leg, and pain from being weak and starving. fuck it, it would be an opportunity to rest indoors out of the cold, and get something to eat before he bailed on you the next day.

and he was going to find and fuck up that alley cat he got into a fight with. maybe he would come back to your house, yowling for food before he fled entirely.

scaramouche sure didn't know what to think about you. what the fuck was up with you? any normal person would've just dropped and abandoned him after he hissed and clawed at them, but not you. you took it all with a calm, patient smile. he decided he would fiercely test that patience.

humans weren't as good as they liked to think, in his humble opinion.

scaramouche watched you with narrow eyes as you flitted about the kitchen, looking in cabinets to see what you had for him to eat. "i'm afraid you'll have to forgive me kitty, i still have to go the grocery store this week. if you don't like anything i have, i'll go back out to the store, and see if i can't find you something."

so test you he did. he turned his nose up at tuna, some cubed chicken breasts with gravy on them (even it smelled super good, he thought), some roast beef.

he thought, this is it! he was going to turn out to be right. you would undoubtedly get frustrated and put him back out on the street. or so he thought.

nope, you just made him a soft little nest on the couch with some blankets and pillows. turned on the tv for him, and told him you would be back with some other stuff. that you would find what he wanted to eat, it wasn't a problem.

you even looked happy to be taking care of him. and why the hell were you starting to smell really good every time you walked by him. he waited, curled up warm in your little hand made nest, glancing away from the tv at the door every now and then.

back you came, your scent more magnified than before to him. you brought fish, varieties of tuna, some cat treats and cat nip. you'd even stopped by the deli and picked up different things. for him. you didn't bring home any dinner for yourself.

scaramouche supposed he would feel like an asshole if he refused all of it. you'd gone back out in the freezing rain and wind to get food for him, getting nothing for yourself. he decided he was only going to be half the trouble, accepting some chicken and gravy that tasted better than he anticipated.

after that, you treated his injured leg and read to him until he fell asleep. he opened his eyes the next morning to discover you hadn't slept until he did.

scaramouche was incredibly weak from his injury. so much so that he couldn't transform into his more human form to make recovery easier. and if he had it his way, you would never know about it. a few days and he would be gone.

or so he told himself. before he knew it, one day turned into two. two days turned into a week. he got stronger everyday. oh how you smiled and clapped when he stood up without limping. your smile was beautiful, he admitted.

you'd put up with him all this time. the healing scratches and bite marks on your arms and hands proved that. what was in it for you? nothing. everything you did was for him. he couldn't find one hint of an ulterior motive. you even seemed to purely enjoy his company.

scaramouche was really starting to hate whenever you left the house, especially when you couldn't take him with you. why did you need to leave? he knew you needed to go out for food and things, but it would be so much better if you took him with you. you seemed way too nice. it probably made you really naive.

you were naive enough not to realize he was actually a hybrid with a very human form, and a name. A name you were talking about him needing eventually. a very human form with very human needs. you were smelling better and better every day. he almost couldn't stand it sometimes. it was intoxicating.

he was starting to jump on your bed with you at night to sleep, moving a little closer to you every night. one morning, you found him curled up asleep on your chest, purring softly. he avoided you for hours after that happened, darting off hissing in embarrassment.

that wasn't the worst thing for him. a few mornings later, he'd unknowingly shifted in the middle of the night into his human form, waking up very naked with a very hard cock. his arms wrapped around you, tucking you possessively against him.

to your credit (and his amazement), you didn't scream or send him away. he supposed he should've expected that. you didn't even throw him out when he scratched up your curtains, tore a hole in one of the couch pillows, and knocked what he thought looked the most valuable vase off the table, completely shattering it.

"scaramouche," he grumbled, his ears flicking as he looked away in embarrassment. "scaramouche is what you can call me," he could barely look at you that day. he spent most of his time in his cat form, hiding under the bed, or lingering from a distance, watching you suspicious eyes. undoubtedly your true nature would come out. a strange boy had woken up next to you, naked and hard from good you smelled. how warm you felt.

you, with your soft hair that looks oh so pullable. you, with your pretty lips and fragile body he was pretty sure he could break in half. now that he thought about it, you seeing his human form was really the best thing. now he could leave the house with you, and protect you from all the horrible things that would jump out from around every corner and snatch you away.

snatch you away from him. he couldn't have that, no matter what. especially not when you accepted him so completely.

as much as scaramouche tried to swallow these feelings, he was abruptly forced to accept them one day. he walked into your room while you were changing. he saw every bare dip and curve of your breakable body, caught sight of your breasts reflected in the mirror. something snapped in him after that.

of course, he hid away from you after that. only coming out to kick up an angry fuss about you running an errand. he snapped at you when you asked if he wanted to come with you, refusing out of pride and embarrassment for walking in on you earlier.

he was forced to accept two things that day. he was going into heat. and he was consumed with thoughts of breeding you. breeding you so fucking full that there would be no question who you belonged to.

what the fuck had you done to him?

while you were gone, he spent that time writhing on your bed, fisting his cock to thoughts of impaling you on it. making you cry and claw at his back to cum inside you. even better for him that you were starting to become twice as shy around him, looking at him with a blush on your cheeks.

he scented all your clothes, rubbing on them and rolling around on them in his cat form. he rolled around on your sheets and pillows. and as for you, he scented you while you slept. this is what was best. if you smelled like him, no one would so much as dare to take you away from him.

you are his, damn it.

when scaramouche is in heat, he gets twice as possessive. he was incredibly suspicious and weary of anyone that approached or even looked at you, especially another male. if he thought there were too many people around, he insisted on taking different ways home to avoid them. he can and will snap at people if he felt they got too close.

especially when you let him get handsy with you in a moment of weakness one night. he pinned underneath him on the couch, grinding his straining cock between your legs while he pawed at your clothes. his teeth nipping at your lips and skin in between angry and frustrated kisses. you just smelled so fucking good he couldn't control himself. you moaned and mewled so sweetly underneath him.

it did happen one day. he didn't want you to go into the cafe to get your hot chocolate. he insisted on doing it for you, but in the end relented and let you go inside. everything was going smoothly until the barista asked you for your number. you didn't need someone's phone number to give them a cup of hot chocolate. this asshole didn't need your number.

you already had scaramouche. was he blind? that was what went through his head. he wanted to tear the barista's head off. he bet it would pop off so easy, like a bottle cap under too much pressure. if it wasn't for your voice pleading with him to calm down, he would've gotten physical with the barista.

anybody would've gotten fed up and exhausted by now. especially since he raised a further argument when you both were banned from ever coming back. he bartered down for you to be allowed back but not him, since you didn't do anything wrong. that you really liked the whipped cream on their hot chocolate.

scaramouche is the type of hybrid that you have to isolate with when he is in heat. that much was obvious. and that was what he needed the most right now. to be with you, and hide you away from the world, making sure nothing and nobody touched you while he was in heat.

he knew you were strong, but that's exactly why you needed him to protect you.

after the incident at the cafe, scaramouche only completely calmed down when he was fucking his tongue into your cunt. "such a doting, delicate little thing, aren't you," he hissed, looking up at you from between your thighs. "it's going to be a pleasure breeding you," your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging on his ears in an intoxicating way as you pushed his mouth down onto your pussy.

his tongue swirled around your clit, groaning as you grinded on his mouth. he didn't know what was sweeter. the way you tasted or the way you moaned as he latched his lips around your clit.

how good it felt to finally sink his claw into his delicate little mate. you put up with him. cared for him. doted on and indulged him. you'd made him fall so in love, so much so that it was too late by the time he noticed.

now he was going to take care of you in the way you deserved.

and in the dizzying pleasure of cumming on his tongue, you didn't quite know what happened. but what you did know is that you were in love with him to. you didn't expect this cat you found injured to be the force of literal nature that was scaramouche. complete with cute ears. before you knew it, he'd pulled you right in, and you were happy to let him do it, in all the comforting weight of his dominance.

"i want to hear you scream it, slut," scaramouche moaned, his hands tightening on your hips possessively. he had the perfect view of his cock pumping in and out of your pussy from behind. your walls squeezed around his cock hearing him mock your moans as he bottomed out into your sweet spot over and over again. "babble about how badly you want to be bred."

your sopping cunt clutched tight and warm like a glove, your walls gummy and perfect. his eyes rolled into the back of his head how good you felt squeezing his cock.

"please, breed me. you feel so good inside me," you cried out, drool soaking the pillow under your cheek. he chuckled shakily behind you, you were always so eager to please him. even the way you shook, creaming hard on his cock was an intoxicating sight to behold.

a truly delicate gift for him to break.

the harder he made you cum, the more you begged him to fuck you full of cum. "cock drunk whore," scaramouche moaned, his thrusts turning sloppy as his cock pulsed cum inside of you. he doubted you could hear his soft whimpers of bliss over your own, which were much louder.

[sweetfushi]

CONFESSING TO THEM

fluff | tengen uzui, kyojuro rengoku, sanemi shinazugawa x reader, reader nearly dies, tengen has three wives and you're tryna become his fourth | word count. 1.4k

TENGEN UZUI.

You know he’s married, thrice too. But sitting next to Tengen and watching him observe the Koi in the pond, a subtle smile on his face, warms your chest. You don’t realise that you’d started gazing at him longingly until he catches you, turning to you with a big grin. The beads of his headpiece rattled in the wind alongside your flowing hair.

“Tengen,” you start, voice meek and apprehensive, “I know you’re… married, but um, I don’t think I can continue our friendship if I don’t tell you.” At this point, your voice trails off into a whisper he has to lean in to hear. You almost outwardly giggle at the close proximity.

“You like me, huh?”

“What? Did you– have you known all along?” You huff and grab a nearby pebble to throw at him, only for it to bounce off his bicep in the midst of his snickers.

“I’d feel bad for you if you had tried to be subtle about it,” Tengen teases, leaning in closer until your faces are centimetres apart. When he sees your flushed expression, he shakes his head and rests his right cheek on his fist. “I can’t blame ya for failing though, it was hard for me too.”

You sit upright. “Wait, what?”

“Y’re pretty ditzy today, eh?”

You’re tempted to slash the charming smirk off his face. For the first time since the conversation started, you lock eyes with him (albeit having to almost painfully crane your neck to do so). From the way he maintains your gaze and lets you witness the boyish glint in his eyes, you’re convinced he isn’t lying to you with what he’s implying.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while now,” he admits, stretching his arms. “So I’m glad you’re not threatened by the idea.”

You purse your lips. “How are you going to deal with four wives?”

Tengen glances at you from the corner of his eye, grinning. “You mean it’s harder than handling three? My wives are my partners, not liabilities. You’d be no different.”

You lower your head to hide your impending smile, though he catches your expression even when you don’t think he does. If anything, he’s eager to witness more of your excitement. He finds it adorable that you can barely look him in the eye, even when he gets on one knee in front of you. He’s not proposing - your conversation already acted as one - instead, he wants to see your face. Tengen wants to see what he’s doing to you.

“Ring or necklace?” He asks.

You contemplate it before telling him your choice.

“Consider it done.”

KYOJURO RENGOKU.

“You must eat,” Rengoku tells you in that booming voice of his. He’s already scoffing down two of the bentos that had been provided to him by the cooks, but you had barely touched your food. You were starving, but your nerves overshadowed your hunger.

“I will,” you nod.

A minute goes by and all that is heard is Rengoku’s small comments on the food; tasty, yummy, delicious, incredible. Whenever he stares at you, you nod and smile along with him, but you notice his smile drop slightly further every time he does look at you.

“Is something the matter?” He chimes in, disturbing your racing thoughts. At this point, he’s stopped eating and is just waiting for you to answer, but for the past ten minutes you had been trying to plot how to go about telling him. I’ll never end up telling him at this point, you realise. So, you sip some of your water, place it back down on the coaster and lift your head to face him directly.

“I like you, Rengoku.”

For a moment, it’s silent. “And I don’t want that to make what we have weird, I even considered not telling you because I don’t wanna lose you, but if I don’t tell you it feels like I’m lying to you–”

“You stress too much,” he smiles, watching your throat bob as you swallow thickly. The flame hashira can sense your impending tears and feels oddly honoured that he had the ability to make them happy or sad ones.

Now that you reflect on what you’ve just done, you perhaps should have waited until the two of you - or he at least - had finished eating. Feelings like this are hard to stomach, especially from one hashira to another. While you’re contemplating your confession, you feel his gaze burn into you and, somehow, you find the strength within yourself to not avoid it.

“I’m sorry, I’ll pay for our food as compensation–”

“Compensation for what?” He laughs, your heart aching at the sight of such a brightly lit expression. “If anything, I need to eat more from how overjoyed I am.”

You pause. “Overjoyed?”

“That might be an understatement, but I can’t find the words at the moment,” he admits, that smile still stuck on his face. What you had yet to realise throughout these two years was that Rengoku had admired you the most out of everyone he had met. Yes, Tengen was flashy and Tokito was level-headed, but out of all the esteemed hashira, his flame had been ignited the most around you. Only now could he let it burn as it wished.

“I like you too, very much.”

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA.

“Stop looking like that,” he taps the blunt side of his katana on your arm, knocking you out of your daze - the daze you had been in the entirety of this dispatch. It wasn’t anything major, a few rowdy demons that have been unsettling the village near to the woods you were currently in, but Sanemi had insisted that he accompany you for it.

“Sorry,” you mumble, sheathing your own katana after having wiped it clean of blood.

Sanemi eyes you for a moment. He knows you’re mature enough to handle yourself and manage your emotions, though he’s come to realise that it doesn’t mean you should be left to do so. So, the scarred hashira doesn’t prod further. Not until you fail to register the unexpected demon launching at you from behind, teeth bared and eyes maniacal.

“You’re askin’ to be killed, damn it!” He finally yells, his brows furrowed from the sheer adrenaline and anxiety he just endured. Sanemi never truly yells at you unless he’s unmistakably upset, so his raised voice makes your lips part and your eyes widen with a late registry of what risk you had induced.

“You wanna be in your feelings? Fine, just don’t do it when you’re out to work! At this rate, we’ll need backup just to make sure your reckless ass is bein’ protected with those villagers!” He’s breathing heavily at this point, his face in yours as he heaves and trembles.

Sanemi is still unsettled even when the two of you finally return to base, washing up and filling your stomachs during the last few hours before you’d call it a day. When you wander out into the pond gardens, your arms crossed over your chest to shield yourself from the night’s breeze, you almost turn the other direction when you spot Sanemi squatting at the edge of one of the smaller pools of water. He’s skipping rocks, watching them dance across the water, or occasionally fail to do so and fall into the pond or onto a lilypad instead.

“Don’t try and avoid me now,” he sighs guiltily, observing his reflection in the water momentarily before rising to his feet and turning to face you. “I shouldn’t…” he scratches the back of his neck. He’s not used to apologising for something he usually does so casually. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he confesses.

“No, I’m glad you did,” you admit, licking your lips. “I like you too much for you to act like you don’t care about me. You’ve noticed, surely.”

Sanemi isn’t sure he has noticed. That thought alone made him kiss his teeth - had he been so distracted by his own feelings to notice yours? The question raided his mind for a few moments while you, unbeknownst to him, watched as his lips pursed and his cheeks flushed a light pink.

Was he seriously blushing? This is so uncharacteristic of him, you think, a smile finally gracing your lips for the first time that day. For a moment, you’re more invested in him blushing than you are in the acknowledgement that he reciprocates your feelings.

He walks over to you, the gravel crunching beneath his shoes. He doesn’t stop until his chest almost touches yours and his face is so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I’m g’nna kick your ass for today,” he scoffs. “After I take you out…” he almost looks angry at his own embarrassment.

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[lostfracturess]

─── games and matches | ch. 01

pairing — satoru gojo x suguru's daughter reader

summary — after a night of partying and drinking, you run into none other than satoru gojo — your dad's infuriatingly hot best friend who you haven't seen in years. blame it on the alcohol, but you start flirting with him. and he flirts back. so, can it really be that wrong to want to fuck your dad's best friend? after all, what happens in the kitchen at 3AM stays in the kitchen, right?

word count — 13.2 k (chapter 1/3)

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, age difference, alcohol use, drunk sex, unprotected sex, penetration, fingering, edging, oral (female receiving), hair pulling, underwear in your mouth lol, in need of heavy daddy issues to enjoy this.

author's note — idk what to say about this, was in the mood to write something dumb and fun, so don't dwell too much on the plot and just enjoy the vibes of this story haha. happy reading !! comments and reblogs are love <3

masterlist + ao3 + wattpad

next chapter ->

"Well well, look who it is."

Suddenly, the light flickered on.

You froze, blinking rapidly as your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. Heart racing, you spun around to find Satoru Gojo, your dad's best friend — no, scratch that, your dad's ridiculously hot best friend — leaning casually against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

You stood there in the doorway, taking in the sight of him. 

It had been years since you'd last seen him. You'd nearly forgotten about him — but not quite. He looked different now. Older. 

Hotter.

"Quite the late night, huh?" he remarked.

His piercing gaze raked over your barely-there party dress, taking in the way the short, black fabric clung to your curves. You could only imagine how you looked — smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, and cheeks flushed.

It was well past three in the morning on a Wednesday, and you'd just stumbled home from a college party, the remnants of cheap tequila still swirling in your bloodstream. 

The last thing you needed was a run-in with Satoru, especially when he looked so damn good in that black shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and a navy overshirt casually rolled up to his elbows. 

Life just wasn't fair sometimes.

"Fuck, Satoru. You scared me," you whisper-hissed, your voice a bit hoarse. "What the hell are you doing here at this hour?”

He raised an eyebrow, a slow, amused smirk spreading across his face. "I could ask you the same question, love. Don't you have classes in a few hours? Or did they start giving out degrees for partying these days?"

You rolled your eyes, slipping out of your heels and sighing in relief as your aching feet met the cool tiles. As you bent to arrange your shoes, your short dress rode up, the hem barely skimming the curve of your thighs.

"What does that concern you?"

"Because you're the daughter of my best friend, of course. Now, be a good girl and tell me where you've been."

You sighed. "I was at a college party, obviously.”

"You drunk?" 

“No," you lied, even as the remnants of tequila still thrummed through your veins, making everything pleasantly hazy around the edges.

Satoru's gaze followed your every move as you walked past him to the sink in the kitchen. The room suddenly felt smaller with his presence, the air thick. You reached for a glass from the cabinet, the hem of your dress riding up even further, a sliver of skin flashing in the dim light.

"That's quite the outfit for a college party," he commented, his gaze lingering on your exposed skin. 

You filled your glass with tap water. "It's a normal dress for a normal party. You're too old to know that. What, did they not have parties back in your day?" 

"I'm not that much older than you." 

"Yeah, like just a good 16 years or what?" you scoffed, taking a sip of water.

In the dim moonlight that spilled through the kitchen windows, you noticed the faint flush high on Satoru's cheekbones, the telltale glassiness in his normally sharp eyes. The subtle scent of bourbon clung to him.

He's drunk too, you realized with surprise.

You lifted your chin. "You're drunk."

"I'm not.”

"Oh really?" you challenged, setting your water glass down on the counter with a soft clink. "Prove it then. How many fingers am I holding up?"

You held up three fingers in front of his face. He squinted at your hand, before he reached out, his fingers warm as they wrapped around your wrist, tugging your hand down gently.

"That's not how you measure how drunk someone is. But I can assure you, I'm perfectly sober.” His gaze shifted down, resting on your chest. “Sober enough to see that dress of yours is way too low cut for a woman your age."

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you suddenly became acutely aware of just how much cleavage you were showing. You tugged at the neckline of your dress, trying to adjust it higher, but the silky fabric simply slipped through your fingers.

"I'm grown up now, if you haven't noticed. And besides, it's not that low.”

"If you say so.” He shrugged out of his navy overshirt. “But just in case, why don't you put this on? Wouldn't want you catching a cold in that scrap of fabric you're calling a dress."

He held out his jacket to you, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

"I'm not cold," you said, but even as the words left your mouth, a shiver ran through you. The kitchen tiles were cool beneath your bare feet, and the thin material of your dress did little to ward off the chill of the night air.

Satoru noticed, of course. 

His smirk widened. "Sure you're not. But humor me, will you?"

You glared at him. Finally, you snatched the jacket from his outstretched hand. "Fine. But only because I don't want to listen to you nag."

You shrugged into the jacket, immediately engulfed by Satoru's scent — a heady mix of expensive cologne, cigarette smoke and something uniquely him. The sleeves fell past your fingertips, and the hem hit your mid-thigh, covering much more of you than your dress did. You had to admit, it felt nice. 

Comforting, almost.

Satoru's gaze softened as he took in the sight of you drowning in his clothes. "There. Much better. Now you look less likely to give some poor teenage boy a heart attack."

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

He grinned. "Part of my charm, love, can't you remember?”

You rolled your eyes. 

He hasn't changed a bit. Still the same old Satoru, with his quick wit and insufferable smirk. But damn if he didn't look good. 

The years had been kind to him, that's for sure.

You hopped up onto the kitchen counter, the cool marble sending a shiver up your spine as it met your bare thighs. Satoru's jacket rode up as you settled, the soft fabric bunching around your waist, but you were far too focused on the man across from you to care.

Blame it on the alcohol.

You picked up your abandoned glass of water, taking a long, slow sip as you watched him lean back against the opposite counter, his long legs stretched out before him, arms crossed over his broad chest.

In the dim light filtering through the blinds, shadows played across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline and the subtle curve of his lips. God, he looked even better than you remembered him.

His gaze never left you, his eyes dark pools. His glance made you feel a strange warmth that spread through your body, a heat that had nothing to do with the tequila you'd consumed earlier.

But you pushed it away. 

It was just the alcohol talking, you told yourself. 

It had to be.

"So," you started. "You never did answer my question. What are you doing here at this hour?”

Satoru ran a hand through his tousled hair, the white locks falling back into place effortlessly. Damn him. "Well, your old man and I were out for drinks earlier. Celebrating closing a big case we've been working on."

You raised an eyebrow. "Dad doesn't usually stay out this late."

"No, he doesn't. Man's a total lightweight. Two bourbons in and he was ready to hit the karaoke stage".

You nearly choked on your water at the image. "Tell me you got that on video."

"Oh, you know it," Satoru grinned. "Blackmail material for a lifetime. But someone had to be the adult and get him home before he really made a fool of himself. Dropped him in bed right before you stumbled in, actually."

"My hero," you teased, taking another sip of water. "So, this big case, it was the Johnston trial, right? Dad mentioned it, said it was huge for your firm." You tilted your head, observing him. "You just here for the case, or are you sticking around?"

He shrugged, the movement casual, but you could see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Initially just for the case, but I'll be around for a bit to wrap things up. It was a team effort, though. Everyone put in a lot of long hours."

"Look at you, being all humble. Dad said you led this one. Said you absolutely destroyed the other side in court. Had them in tears, from what I heard."

"Oh, did he now?" His smirk widened, clearly enjoying the praise.

"Mhmm," you hummed, leaning back on your hands, the marble counter cool against your palms. "Seems the press is calling you a legal genius or something, too.”

"Well, they're not wrong, are they? I am pretty damn brilliant."

You huffed out a laugh. "Careful, counselor. Keep winning cases like this and that ego of yours might just burst."

"Ah, but you'd be there to keep me humble, wouldn't you?"

"I don't think anyone could keep you humble, Satoru. Least of all me."

"Oh, I don't know about that." He fixed you with his piercing blue eyes, the intensity making your breath catch in your throat. "I have a feeling you could bring me to my knees without even trying."

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry.

Damn him and his smooth lines. 

Satoru's eyes were dark, smoldering as they bore into yours. You felt pinned beneath his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest, your skin tingling with a strange sensation. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he broke the silence. 

"So, how's tennis going? I heard you're quite the rising star on campus. Beating all the boys and making them cry, huh?"

You scoffed. "Did you really expect anything less from me?"

"Nah, I always knew you'd be dominating the court someday. You were born to be a champ." 

"Oh, don't tell me you're a fan now," you said with a grin. "Want me to sign something for you before I get too famous and forget all about you?"

"Please, as if you could ever forget about me, love." 

You tilted your chin up, meeting his gaze head-on. "That ego of yours is something else, isn't it? How do you even fit through doorways with a head that big?" 

"Look who's talking. Your ego seems to be doing just fine too." 

His lips curled into a smirk. He fixed you with his gaze, those piercing blue eyes seeming to see right through you, sending shivers down your spine. It was unnerving, his gaze — and undeniably thrilling.

For a moment you thought he was flirting with you. But that couldn't be right. The alcohol must be messing with your perception, making you read into things that weren't there.

Then, he spoke again. "How was the party?"

"Oh. It was...fine, I guess. Pretty lame, actually."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? And here I thought college parties were supposed to be the highlight of your young adult life."

You shrugged, fiddling with the hem of his jacket. "Maybe for some people. But getting drunk off of cheap beer and watching my classmates make fools of themselves isn't really my idea of a good time."

"No?" He tilted his head, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. "Then what is your idea of a good time?"

“I don't know. Something more exciting than a frat party, that's for sure."

"Exciting, huh?”

Satoru's eyes glinted with mischief as he pushed off the counter. He walked over to the liquor cabinet where your father kept his prized collection and rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a bottle of top-shelf vodka.

"Well then," he drawled, grabbing two tumblers from the shelf above. "If the party was such a bust, why don't we make our own fun?"

He returned to you, placing the glasses on the counter beside your hip with a clink that seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet of the kitchen.

"And that's your definition of fun?" you asked. “Having drinks with your best friend's daughter at three in the morning?"

"Ah, but you're not just any daughter, are you?" He uncapped the vodka and poured a generous amount into each glass. "And besides, I'm curious. Those college boys at the party, they don't do it for you?"

He handed you your glass, his gaze never leaving yours. You took it, swirling the clear liquid and watching it catch the light. "Not really. They're all so... immature. All talk and no substance."

"Is that why you don't have a boyfriend? Because no one's managed to capture your interest?"

You emptied your glass in one satisfying gulp, the vodka burning a pleasant trail down your throat. You reached for the bottle, but Satoru was faster, his hand already at the neck, refilling your glass before you could blink.

"I guess," you admitted, watching the crystal tumbler fill with clear liquid. “That, and I've been busy with college, obviously. Dating hasn't exactly been a priority.”

"Mmm, I call bullshit.” He placed the refilled glass in your hand, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. "A woman like you, with your looks? You could have any man you wanted, studies be damned."

Oh god, you thought, your mind racing. 

He's indeed flirting with you. 

And you're flirting back.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a nervous thrill that combined with the warmth of the alcohol was probably a bad thing.

Was this really happening?

Were you actually flirting with Satoru Gojo, the man your dad considered a brother?

But now, in the dim light of the kitchen, he was something else entirely. He looked good. Damn good. The kind of good that made your mind wander to places it definitely shouldn't. 

And the way he was looking at you, the way his gaze kept drifting to your lips, the way he leaned in just a little too close — it was clear he no longer saw you as just his friend's little girl. No, the heat in his eyes told you he very much saw you as a woman now. 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. 

"Maybe I'm just picky."

"Oh, really?" Satoru moved closer, until he stood beside you, his hip brushing against yours, his hands resting tantalizingly close to your thigh. "And what exactly are you looking for?"

You met his gaze boldly, emboldened by the alcohol thrumming through your veins. "I don’t know. Someone older. More experienced. Someone who knows what he's doing."

"Is that so?"

You hummed in response, setting your empty glass aside. "What about you, Satoru? Where's your girlfriend tonight? Or boyfriend, I don't judge."

"No girlfriend. No boyfriend either. I guess you could say I'm married to my work."

You raised an eyebrow, tracing your finger around the rim of your glass. "Really? The great Satoru Gojo, eternally single? I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it, love," he said, setting his own glass down. His eyes, the color of a summer sky, never left yours. "I'm a busy man. Relationships take time and effort, two things I don't have in abundance."

"Sounds lonely.”

Saotru's lips quirked up at the corners. "Oh, believe me I’m far from lonely. Just unburdened by the messy attachments that come with a relationship."

"Ah. So you're a love 'em and leave 'em type, are you?"

"I prefer to think of it as knowing what I want and taking it.” He leaned in closer. You could smell the vodka on his breath, the intoxicating scent of his cologne. "No strings, no complications. Just fun."

“Why does that not surprise me.”

Satoru reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered on your cheek, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. "What can I say, love? I'm a simple man with simple needs."

Heat washed over you at his touch.

Oh god, he was definitely flirting with you.

And even worse, you were shamelessly flirting back. 

But could you really be blamed? It had been years since you'd last seen him, and time had been more than kind to Satoru Gojo. He'd always been handsome, but now, with a few more years of wisdom and experience etched into his features, he was practically irresistible.

And let's be real, you were both a little drunk. 

It was the perfect recipe for a little harmless flirting. Because that's all this was, right? 

Harmless. 

Just two adults engaging in a bit of playful banter, a bit of stolen glances and charged tension. It didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything.

After all, he was your dad's best friend. 

This was just the alcohol talking, just the thrill of seeing each other after so long. In the morning, you'd both laugh it off, chalk it up to a bit too much vodka and the nostalgia of reunion. 

But even as you told yourself this, you couldn't ignore the way your heart raced at his proximity, the way your skin tingled under his gaze. Blame it on the alcohol, but the truth was, you were enjoying this. 

It was exhilarating.

You scoffed, trying to regain your composure. "Oh, I'm sure your needs are anything but simple, counselor.”

"Mmm, you might be right about that. I've been told I can be quite... demanding."

"Does that line ever work on women?"

He smirked. "I can't complain. It's served me well enough so far."

Oh, he's so confident.

It made you wonder what it would take to throw him off his game.

"Is that so?” You sat up straighter, a coy smile playing about your lips. "In that case, why don't we play a little game? See if that silver tongue of yours is as clever as you think it is."

His eyebrows shot up. “What did you have in mind?"

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Oh, just a classic. Truth or Dare. Unless of course, the great Satoru Gojo is afraid of a little challenge?"

Satoru's eyes narrowed, his smirk sharpening into something more predatory. "Oh, love. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

You leaned in closer. "Then why don't you enlighten me, counselor?"

His gaze dropped to your lips, and for a heart-stopping moment, you thought he might kiss you. But then he pulled back, his smirk widening. "Alright. You're on. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Bring it on. I'm not afraid of you."

"Oh, we'll see about that.” He picked up the vodka bottle, refilling both your glasses with a practiced hand. He handed one to you, clinking his against it. "Ladies first. Truth or Dare?"

You took a sip of your drink, the vodka rushing pleasantly through your veins, making you bolder. "Dare."

He paused, his eyes glinting in the dim light. His gaze roamed over you with deliberate slowness, lingering on the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts beneath the fabric of his jacket. You could practically feel the heat of his gaze, branding you.

"Take off my jacket."

"That's it? That's your big dare?"

He shrugged. "What can I say? I'm starting you off easy. Wouldn't want to scare you off too soon."

You scoffed, setting your glass down. "Please. It takes more than a little strip tease to scare me."

With deliberate slowness, you hooked your thumbs into the neckline of Satoru's overshirt, your fingers grazing the heated skin of your chest as you pulled the fabric apart. His eyes followed your every move, the blue irises darkening with each new inch of exposed skin.

You shrugged the overshirt off your shoulders, letting it pool around your elbows. The cool air of the kitchen kissed your exposed skin, causing your nipples to harden beneath the thin fabric of your dress.

"Your turn, counselor. Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," he replied without hesitation, taking a long sip of his vodka.

You leaned back on your hands, the cool marble of the countertop a welcome contrast to the warmth spreading through your body. Tilting your head, you made a show of considering your options, drawing out the suspense.

"Take off your shirt."

His eyebrows shot up. "Didn't take you for the forward type, love."

You shrugged one shoulder. "What can I say? I appreciate a good view."

"Is that so? Well then, who am I to deny a woman what she wants?"

With equally deliberate slowness, he reached for the hem of his shirt, his gaze never leaving yours as he began to lift it inch by tantalizing inch. Your breath hitched in your throat as smooth, pale skin was revealed, stretched taut over toned muscles that rippled beneath his touch.

He pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it aside. Your eyes drank him in greedily, tracing the defined ridges of his abdomen, the broad expanse of his chest, the subtle play of light and shadow on his skin.

The waistband of his pants hung low on his hips, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of white curls trailing down from his navel.

God, he was gorgeous. 

All lean, hard muscle and power.

"See something you like?" He asked, a boyish grin spreading across his face.

You dragged your gaze up to his, your pulse pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the vodka. "I'm not blind. You're... easy on the eyes."

"Wow, that might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Why?" you challenged, tilting your head. "You’re craving my attention, Satoru?"

“That’s a question for a truth, isn’t it? Your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you said.

He tilted his head to the side as he considered you. "Did you make out with any guys at that party tonight?"

“Yes.”

“Did you fuck him?"

"Quite bold of you to ask your best friend's daughter that question.”

He shrugged, unrepentant. "What? It's a valid question. So, did you?"

You hesitated, biting your lip. "Almost."

"Almost?"

You held his gaze, as he watched you over the rim of his glass. "I don't know. One minute we were all over each other, and the next...I just wasn't feeling it anymore. It got boring."

Satoru threw back his head and laughed, a deep, resonant sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "You really are the bane of every university boy's existence, aren't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He grinned, his eyes dancing with amusement. "It means, love, that you're a goddamn tease. Getting them all hot and bothered, then leaving them high and dry. It's almost cruel."

You scoffed, taking another sip of your drink. "It's not my fault they couldn't keep my interest.”

"Oh, I'm sure," he replied, taking a long, slow sip from his own glass.

You watched as his throat bobbed with each swallow, your eyes tracing the strong column of his neck down to the defined hollow of his collarbone. God, even the way he drank was hot. It was infuriating.

He set his glass down, his tongue darting out to catch a stray drop of vodka on his bottom lip. Your gaze followed the movement, heat curling in your stomach.

"Alright," he drawled. "Your turn. Truth or Dare?"

You lifted your chin, holding his gaze boldly. "Dare."

"Brave choice. I like it."

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest, the pose showcasing his lean, muscular physique. Your mouth went dry as you took in the sight of his defined biceps flexing with the movement.

"Slip those straps of your dress off your shoulders.”

"Wow, Satoru. Why not just ask me to strip the whole dress off?"

"But where's the fun in that?" he countered, a wicked grin playing about his lips. "Besides, that's a job for me."

You hesitated for a second.

A small voice in the back of your head whispered that you were treading treacherous waters, that letting things go further with Satoru was a bad idea. But the alcohol flowing through your veins and the heat in his gaze silenced your better judgment. 

It was just a bit of harmless fun, right? 

No need to overthink it or make it into something it wasn't.

Slowly, you reached for the straps of your dress, sliding them down your shoulders, one after another. The silky fabric whispered against your skin as it fell, the neckline dipping precariously low, just barely concealing your hardened nipples beneath the lace edge of your bra that peeked out.

Satoru's gaze followed the movement, his eyes darkening as more and more of your skin was revealed. His jaw clenched, his fingers flexing against his biceps as he watched you, the air between you thick with tension.

You leaned forward slightly, your hands gripping the edge of the countertop, the cool marble a stark contrast to your overheated skin. You pressed your arms against your chest, pushing your cleavage together, the dress threatening to slip further with each heaving breath.

"See something you like?" you mirrored his words back to him.

Satoru huffed. He reached for his glass, bringing it to his lips and taking a long, slow sip, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, he moved to stand right before you, placing the glass beside your thighs, each of his hands coming to rest on either side of you, caging you in.

“Truth or dare.”

"Truth," Satoru said, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Getting shy on me now, counselor?”

"Oh, trust me. There's nothing shy about me. But I don't think you can handle me fully stripped."

You scoffed, even as a shiver of anticipation raced down your spine, your skin prickling with goosebumps. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"

He leaned in closer, his breath fanning across your cheek, warm and intoxicating. "With good reason, love. I've never had a complaint."

Your pulse jumped, heat pooling low in your core, your thighs clenching. This was dangerous territory, toeing the line of no return. If you weren't careful, you'd end up doing something very, very stupid.

Like finding out first-hand if Satoru's claims were true.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your body reacted to his proximity, the way your nipples tightened and your breathing grew shallow. "I thought we were playing Truth or Dare, not stroking your ego."

"Oh, we are. And I believe it's your turn to ask a question."

You bit your lip. "Why do you have the daughter of your best friend undressed in the middle of the night on a random Wednesday?" 

His lips curved upward, his fingers flexing against the countertop on either side of your hips. "I don't know, maybe because she didn't get what she needed at the party."

"And what do I need?"

Satoru's eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to your parted lips, lingering there for a moment before flicking back up to meet yours. 

"I think you need someone who knows how to appreciate you, love. Someone who can make you feel things those fumbling college boys never could."

"And you think you're that someone, do you?"

"Oh, I know I am. I could make you feel so good, you'd forget your own name."

Shivers ran down your spine as want battled with reason. It would be so easy to give in, to let Satoru have his wicked way with you. But the rational part of your brain knew it was a terrible idea. Still, you couldn't help but lean into him.

"That's a bold claim," you managed, your voice breathier than you would have liked. "But I'm not sure I believe you."

"No? Then how about another dare, since you're feeling so brave?"

Your stomach flipped, nerves and anticipation tangling together. "What did you have in mind?"

His smile was slow, predatory. "I dare you to let me prove it to you."

"Prove what, exactly?"

He leaned in, until his lips were a hair's breadth from yours. "That I can make you feel better than anyone else ever has."

You inhaled shakily, your fingers curling tighter around the countertop edge. "And how do you propose to do that?"

"However you want me to, love. I could use my hands, my mouth, could touch you in places no one else ever has. Make you come so hard, you can do nothing but beg for more."

A shudder ran through you at the promise in his words, your core clenching with need. You could picture it all too clearly — Satoru's hands on your body, his fingers sliding over your skin, wandering lower and lower. His mouth hot and hungry on yours, trailing kisses down your neck, your chest, lower still—

You fought back a moan, trying to maintain some semblance of composure even as your body screamed for his touch. Reaching for your glass, you took a slow, deliberate sip of the vodka, holding his gaze as the liquid burned down your throat.

"Is that so?" you said. "And what makes you think I'd ever beg for you, counselor?"

"Oh, you'll beg. I'll make sure of that. I'll tease you until you're dripping wet and aching for me, until you can't think of anything but how badly you need me inside you. And then, when you're right on the edge, when you're so desperate you can barely breathe,” He leaned in closer, his lips nearly brushing yours, “that's when I'll make you beg."

"You sound pretty confident. But I'm not sure you can back up all that big talk."

Satoru pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes burning with a fierce, hungry intensity. "Oh, I can back it up, love. And then some."

His hand slid up your thigh, his fingers skimming the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of your dress. "But the question is," he continued, his fingers tracing maddening patterns on your inner thigh, his touch light and teasing, "are you ready for me to prove it to you?"

"One dare?"

"One dare is all I need, love."

You shivered at his promise, heat rising deep in your core, your body aching for his touch. God, the things this man did to you—

But you wouldn’t give in that easily. After all, where was the fun in that?

Emboldened, you let the dress slip a bit lower, revealing more of the lacy edge of your bra. "As tempting as that sounds, counselor, I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass on that particular dare."

"Oh? And why's that?"

You shrugged one shoulder, aiming for nonchalant even as your heart raced in your chest. "Maybe I'm not ready for you to put your money where your mouth is. Maybe I want to savor the anticipation a little longer."

"Is that so? Well then, how about another truth instead? Since you seem so fond of them."

Nerves fluttered in your stomach, but you refused to back down. "Hit me."

Satoru leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, his breath hot against your skin. "Have you ever touched yourself while thinking of me?"

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry, your brain short-circuiting as a wave of heat washed over you. Because the truth was—

He pulled back, his eyes searching yours, a knowing glint in their azure depths. "You have, haven't you? You've laid in bed at night, your hand between your thighs, picturing me doing all sorts of things to you."

You didn't need to confirm it, he could tell by the way you trembled as his lips trailed along the line of your jaw, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake.

"Tell me, what was I doing to you?" He caressed the sensitive skin of your throat with his lips, drawing a gasp from your parted lips. "Was I kissing you? Touching you?"

"Yes," you panted, your fingers curling into his silky hair, holding him against you, all good reason vanishing into thin air.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending sparks of need skittering down your spine. "Did you come, love? Muffling those pretty moans in your pillow as you cum with my name falling from your lips?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your thighs clenching at the memory — the way you'd writhed against your sheets, your fingers stroking your slick heat, chasing the release that only thoughts of Satoru could bring you.

"Yes," you whispered. “Every single time."

His eyes darkened, his pupils blown wide, his breathing growing ragged. "Where did you imagine me touching you, love? Show me."

Heart pounding, you reached for his hand, your fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against his warm, calloused skin. Slowly, deliberately, you guided his hand to your neck, your breath hitching as his fingers skimmed over your racing pulse.

"Here," you whispered. "I imagined your lips on my neck, your teeth grazing my skin.”

Satoru's fingers tightened on your throat, a possessive gesture that made your core clench. Leaning in, he brushed his lips over your neck, his touch feather-light, teasing. You shivered as his breath ghosted over your sensitive skin, goosebumps rising in its wake.

"Like this?" His lips traced a path of fire from your jaw to your collarbone, his teeth nipping gently at your skin. "Is this how you imagined it?"

“Yes,” you gasped, your head falling back to give him better access, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Just like that."

His tongue flicked out, tasting you, savoring you, as his lips mapped every inch of your neck, finding all the spots that made you shudder and moan.

"Where else?"

Biting your lip, you guided his hand lower, over the swell of your breasts, your nipples tightening beneath the thin fabric of your dress. "Here," you breathed, arching into his touch. "I pictured your hands cupping my breasts, your fingers teasing my nipples.”

Satoru groaned, his control slipping a notch. 

His hand curved over your breast, molding to your shape, his thumb brushing over your nipple in a maddening caress. "Fuck, you feel perfect.”

He tugged at the neckline of your dress, exposing more of your chest to his gaze. Dipping his head, he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, his tongue darting out to lick over your heated skin.

His lips trailed lower and lower until they hovered just above your nipple, his breath hot and damp against your sensitive skin. And then, he closed his lips around your nipple and sucked, hard, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

You cried out, your back arching into him, your fingers clutching at his bare shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

He caressed your breasts, licking and sucking and biting until you were writhing and whimpering. His fingers plucked at your other nipple, rolling the sensitive peak between his thumb and forefinger until want coursed through your veins like molten lava.

"Keep going, love. Show me where else you want my hands."

Emboldened by his words, you slid his hand lower still, his lips still on your breasts, over your stomach, your muscles quivering beneath his touch. 

Lower, lower, until his fingers were brushing the hem of your dress, dipping beneath the fabric to skim the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You shuddered as his fingers crept higher, teasing you, tormenting you with fleeting, feather-light touches.

"Here," you gasped, your thighs parting. "I touched myself here, imagining it was your hand between my legs, your fingers buried deep inside me, filling me, making me come.”

His fingers inched higher, skimming over your damp, lace-covered sex, making your moan softly. He rubbed slow, maddening circles over your cloth clit, the friction delicious but not nearly enough.

"You're so wet," he marveled, his fingers sliding under the edge of your underwear, gliding through your slick folds with a tortuous, leisurely stroke. "So hot and ready for me. Tell me, love, is this all for me? Do you get this worked up just from the thought of my hands on you?"

You whimpered as his fingers parted your folds, running lightly along your slit, barely grazing your aching clit. He was teasing you, exploring you with a maddening, light touch that set your nerves ablaze, making you part your legs wider for him.

"Yes," you gasped, your head thumping back against the cabinets as he circled your entrance with a single finger, dipping in just to the first knuckle before retreating. "Yes, Satoru, all for you. Only for you.”

He groaned at your admission, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he fought for control. "Fuck, the things you say. You have no idea what you do to me, how badly I want to just bury myself inside you and fill you up so bad.”

But still, he held back, his fingers continuing their lazy, tortuous exploration of your slick heat. He gathered your wetness, spreading it up and over your clit, circling the swollen nub with a slippery, gliding pressure that made your thighs shake and your breath come in shallow pants.

"Satoru," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders, your hips rolling shamelessly against his hand. "Quit your games. I need more, need you inside me."

He chuckled, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck with his teeth. "Patience, love," he chided, his fingers dipping back down to your entrance, swirling around the rim in mad, spiraling circles. "I want to savor this.”

He punctuated his words by pressing one long, thick finger inside you in one slow, smooth glide. Your back arched, biting your lips to swallow the scream that tore from your throat as your inner muscles clenched around his finger.

"Fuck, you feel incredible." He pumped his finger in and out of your clutching heat, curling it against your front wall. "I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock."

He added a second finger, stretching you deliciously, filling you in a way that was maddeningly good but still not enough. He scissored his fingers inside you, stroking your slick walls, teasing your most sensitive spots until you helplessly moaned into his mouth that hovered over yours.

"Look at you," he marveled, his eyes hot and heavy on your face, drinking in every expression of pleasure that flickered across it. "So responsive, so desperate for my touch. I bet I could make you come just like this, couldn't I? Just with my fingers buried inside you, rubbing all the right spots until you soak my hand and scream my name."

"Yes, oh god, yes—more, Satoru. I need more, make me come.”

But instead of giving you what you so desperately craved, Satoru withdrew his fingers from your aching core, leaving you empty and bereft. You whimpered at the loss, your eyes flying open to meet his, a protest ready on your lips.

But the words died in your throat as you took in the wicked, hungry gleam in his gaze, the predatory curve of his lips. "Oh, I'll make you come, love. But where's the fun in doing it with just my fingers?"

Before you could even begin to process his words, he was sinking to his knees before you, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading them wide. Your dress rode up to your waist, exposing your lace-covered sex to his gaze. 

With that, he dipped his head, his breath hot against your aching skin. He pressed soft and wet kisses to your inner thighs, his lips and tongue and teeth teasing you until you were squirming and whimpering above him.

"Satoru, please," you begged, your fingers tangling in his hair, trying to guide his mouth where you needed it most. "Stop teasing. I need your mouth on me. I need you to make me come."

"What, you begging now? I thought you said you didn't beg for anyone."

“Oh shut up and go to work already.”

"So impatient," he murmured, nipping at your inner thigh with his teeth. "But I'm not done savoring you yet." With that, his mouth trailed up your thigh, getting closer and closer to your aching core with every kiss and nip and lick. 

Your breath came in shallow pants, your hips grinding subtly against his face, seeking more contact, more friction.

When he finally reached your core, he didn't dive in like you expected. Instead, he placed a soft, almost reverent kiss to your sex, his lips lingering, savoring the heat and the dampness and the scent of you. 

"Fuck, you're so perfect." 

Then his tongue darted out and licked a broad stripe up your clothed sex.

You moaned, your thighs falling open even wider, offering yourself up to him. "Please, Satoru," you whispered. "Please, stop your stupid teasing and fuck me already. Please, Satoru, please, please—"

For a moment, he didn't respond, and you thought he might continue to torment you. But then he slowly pushed your underwear aside with his finger. 

He placed soft, delicate kisses all over your sex, tracing your slit with the tip of his tongue, circling your entrance, flicking over your clit in feathery strokes that made you melt.

But it wasn't enough. You needed more. You needed him.

You arched into his face, your hands fisted in his hair, holding him against you. "More. Satoru, damn it, more, fuck me with your mouth, please, please.”

"Fuck, I love it when you beg.” With that, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, the fabric stretching taut as he began to pull them down. “I think you've earned a little reward."

His eyes never left yours, watching your reactions as he slowly undressed you. You gasped at the sudden exposure, the cool air of the kitchen kissing your heated flesh. He slid your lacy fabric down your legs, taking his time to savor the moment. 

Once they were off, he straightened up again, and leaned into you.

"Open your mouth," he commanded.

You hesitated for a moment, but something in his eyes told you there was no point in refusing. You parted your lips and allowed him to stuff the underwear into your mouth. The taste of your own arousal filled your senses.

"Be quiet for me, will you? We don't want to wake Suguru after all.”

Before you could even begin to think about how wrong this all was, Satoru was between your legs again, burying his face between your thighs and under your dress.

You cried out, muffled by the fabric in your mouth, as he licked a broad, flat stripe up your slit, from your entrance to your clit, the warm, wet rasp of his tongue making you squirm. 

He did it again, and again, setting a slow but steady rhythm, his tongue parting your folds, delving deeper with each pass, until he was fucking into your entrance with his tongue.

Your back arched into him, your thighs clamping around his head, but he held you steady, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you spread open for his mouth. 

"Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined.”

He sealed his lips around your clit, sucking hard, the feeling so intense it bordered on too much. He sucked your clit between his lips, flicking it with the tip of his tongue until you were shaking.

You whimpered around the fabric in your mouth that Satoru stuffed inside you to make sure that no one in the house could hear the sinful things he was doing to you as he worked you mercilessly, his tongue dancing over your clit, flicking and swirling and lashing, driving you higher and higher with every pass.

Satoru seemed to understand your body perfectly, reading your desperation in the arch of your spine, the clench of your thighs around his head, the needy, broken sounds that escaped around the fabric in your mouth.

"You want to come, don't you, love? You need it so badly, need my mouth to push you over the edge. But I'm not sure you've earned it yet. I think you can take a little more teasing, a little more torment. What do you think?"

You shook your head frantically, tears of frustration pricking the corners of your eyes. You couldn't take any more, you were sure of it. If he didn't let you come soon, you would surely lose your goddamn mind.

He pressed a soft, almost mocking kiss to your throbbing clit. "No? You don't think you can handle it? But you've been such a good girl, taken everything I've given you so beautifully. Surely you can hold on just a little longer for me."

You let your head fall back, teeth biting into the fabric, so you would keep quiet and just endure his torture. You would do anything, anything at all, if he would just have mercy on you, if he would just give you the release you so desperately craved.

Satoru seemed to sense your surrender. "That's my girl. Just a little longer, I promise. And then I'll make you feel so good.”

He suited actions to words, his mouth descending on you again, his tongue thrusting and swirling and lashing over your clit, driving you to new heights of pleasure with every skillful stroke.

You could feel your orgasm building, ready to snap at any moment. Your thighs were shaking, your stomach clenching, your breath coming in short, sharp pants.

Without warning, he thrust two fingers into you, the sudden stretch burning. His fingers were thick, stretching you deliciously, and you could feel every ridge and callus on his skin. He began to move, thrusting his fingers in and out, hard and fast.

"Good girl, take me in, take me deep."

And then, with a final, bruising suck on your clit and a deft thrust of his fingers into your clenching heat, you felt your orgasm crashing over you, tearing a ragged, muffled scream from your throat.

You shook and shuddered and sobbed through the aftershocks, your inner muscles clamping down on Satoru's plunging fingers. He worked you through it, his mouth and hand gentling but never stopping, drawing out your pleasure until you felt you might die here and there.

"You really come easily, love. Makes me wonder what the college boys did wrong?”

You wanted to curse at him, but you could only whimper in response, your body feeling like it was made of jelly, your mind blissfully blank.

He pressed a final kiss to your clit before straightening up. Then he removed your underwear from your open mouth, allowing you to breathe properly for the first time, but not long enough for his lips to collide with yours.

And then you realized that you were kissing Satoru Gojo for the very first time in your life.

Because Satoru Gojo managed to make you come before he ever kissed you.

It was a deep, sensual kiss that stole what little breath you'd managed to regain. You could taste yourself on his tongue. Satoru moaned into your mouth, his hips grinding against yours, the hard, hot length of him pressing insistently against your thigh. 

He reached for your hand and guided it downwards, encouraging you to touch him through the fabric of his pants. Even with the barrier of clothing, you could feel the heat of his hard length pulsing beneath your palm. 

He was hard and thick, throbbing beneath your touch, and you couldn't help but wonder what he would feel like, skin against skin.

"Feel what you do to me.” He broke the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your neck. "Feel how hard I am for you, how much I want you, how much I need to be inside you, need to feel you squeezing my cock."

"Then do it already." Your legs fall open in invitation, your hands clutching at his belt, urging him closer. "Fuck me, Satoru."

With trembling fingers, you fumbled with the button and zipper in your haste to remove the barriers between you. His hands joined yours, his eyes locked with yours as you worked together to remove his clothes.

You couldn't help but gasp as his cock sprang free, long and thick and perfect. 

“Fuck.” 

The head was flushed and glistening, evidence of his need for you. Your mouth went dry at the sight, a fresh flood of want coursing through your veins.

"Told you I never had any complaints.”

“Oh shut up.” You reached out to wrap your fingers around his length, marveling at the way he pulsed and throbbed in your grip. He was scorching hot and rock hard, and you couldn't wait to feel him inside you, stretching you, filling you, completing you.

Slowly, teasingly, you began to stroke him from base to tip and back again, your grip firm and sure. 

He let out a low moan, his head falling back and his eyes fluttering closed as he lost himself to the feeling of your touch. His hands gripped your hips almost bruisingly, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

“Is this payback now?”

"Why? Can't handle a little teasing, counselor?"

"You play a dangerous game, love. Because I will not stop until I've fucked you senseless, until I've ruined you for anyone else. You're mine now, and I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

You leaned in closer, your lips just a hairsbreadth from his, your breasts pressing against his heaving chest. "Then prove it. Ruin me for anyone else but you.”

Your hand stroked him faster, harder, your grip tightening around his throbbing length. You could feel him growing even harder in your palm, cum leaking from the tip and slicking your fingers, making the glide even smoother.

Satoru was panting now, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he fought to maintain control. “You sure you’re up to this?”

"I dare you," you breathed against his lips.

Satoru didn't hesitate for even a heartbeat. 

His hands left your hips to fist in your hair, pulling you close. His lips crashed against yours, firm and demanding, a claim and a conquest all in one.

He licked along the seam of your mouth, seeking entrance, and you granted it readily, your lips parting on a sigh of surrender. His tongue swept inside, tangling with yours. He explored every inch of your mouth, mapping the contours, savoring your unique flavor like a man starved.

He kissed you deeply, thoroughly, with a skill that left you weak and dizzy. 

Your hands roamed restlessly over his broad shoulders, his muscular back, before tightening in his hair. Your fingers played in his hair, scratching lightly over the short part at the back of his neck and tugging on the longer locks. 

Satoru seemed to really like it, groaning into your mouth and pulling you even closer. His hips rocked against yours, the thick ridge of his cock pressing insistently into you.

"Satoru, please, take me already, need you inside me."

“Can you keep quiet for me, love?”

“Yes, yes. I can be so quiet, please Satoru.”

“Good, because we’ll have a problem if you can’t.”

Satoru's hands slid down from your hips to grip your thighs, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he lifted you up from the kitchen counter like you weighed nothing. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his neck as he held you close, never breaking the kiss. He carried you out of the kitchen and into the living room, navigating the familiar space.

This wasn't the first time he'd been here, after all.

When he reached the couch, Satoru threw you onto the plush cushions. Before you could even catch your breath, he was on you again, his big body covering yours, pinning you to the sofa. 

He grasped your hands and forced them over your head, lacing your fingers together as he pinned you down, taking control in a way that had your breath hitch.

He started kissing and licking his way down your neck, finding all your favorite spots, the places that made you shiver and gasp, exploiting them ruthlessly. His free hand slid down your chest, over the curve of your breast, teasing your nipple. 

"Fuck, Satoru. Feels so good,” you gasped, your head falling back as his lips trailed hot kisses down your neck.

"God, why didn't we do this sooner?" Satoru groaned against your skin. "Think of all the nights we could've spent together, all the time we could've spent fucking each other's brains out."

"Because you were busy being a lawyer overseas, and I was stuck in college."

"Trust me, love, I would've made it work, would've moved back here, and have you bent over the desk in my office, not giving a damn who heard. Would've driven to your college every weekend, just to bury myself in you and make you scream."

His words had you throbbing with need. You could practically feel it — the hard wood of his desk against your skin, the scratchy sheets of your dorm bed underneath you as he pounded into you.

Satoru started grinding against you, rubbing his hard cock right where you needed it most. 

"I could've sucked you off under your desk while you worked," you panted. "Wrapped my lips around your dick and swallowed you down until you couldn't think straight."

"Fuck, and I would've eaten you out in return, snuck into your room and buried my face between your thighs until you forgot your own name."

The thought alone had your core clenching desperately around nothing. You needed his skin on yours like yesterday.

Satoru must've read your mind, because suddenly he grasped the hem of your dress and yanked it up and over your head, throwing it somewhere behind the couch. You were left in only your lacy bra, your skin flushed and heated.

"You're fucking stunning.” His eyes raked over your body as if he wanted to devour you whole. Like he couldn't quite believe you were real, that you were here, that you were his. "I'm the luckiest man alive, getting to see you like this, getting to touch you like this."

He released your wrists, but you kept them obediently above your head, gripping the armrest like a lifeline. His hands roamed all over your hips and thighs, knees pushing your legs apart until you were spread wide open for him.

Satoru reached between your bodies, rubbing the tip of his dick against your dripping core. You could feel him sliding through your wetness, teasing your clit with every stroke, making you whimper and squirm with how badly you needed him inside you.

But he didn't push inside. Instead, he just rubbed himself against you, teasing your clit with every pass.

"Satoru, please," you said, trying to arch your hips, to get him to slip inside. But he held you down, his grip on your hip too strong to fight.

"Please what, love? Use your words.”

You swallowed hard, your pride warring with your desperation. But fuck it, you were too desperate to care about your pride right now. "Please fuck me. I need you inside me, need to feel you inside me. Please, please just fuck me already."

He cursed under his breath, his hips pressing against yours, the head of his cock catching on your entrance. But still, he didn't give in. 

"C'mon, you can do better than that."

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the needy sounds that wanted to spill out. "Satoru, I'm fucking begging you here. I need you. Please, I'll do anything, just give me your stupid dick already."

"Fuck, the things you do to me," he gritted out, his control finally snapping. And then, with one hard, deep thrust, he was balls-deep inside you, stretching you out so good it made your eyes roll back.

You bit down hard on your lip to keep from screaming, your back arching off the couch, your nails digging into the armrest. He felt fucking huge like this, so thick and hard and perfect, hitting spots you didn't even know could feel this good.

"You're so tight." His forehead dropped to your shoulder as he tried to keep it together. "So fucking perfect. Like you were made for me." 

"Satoru," you whined breathlessly. "You're so big, fuck, I feel you everywhere."

He let out a strained chuckle. "Can't help it if those college boys you fucked before had pathetically small dicks. Guess you just needed a real man to show you what's what, huh?"

“Oh, shut up.”

Then, without warning, he slammed back in, burying himself to the root in one brutal stroke. He didn't give you a chance to adjust, didn't let you catch your breath. He simply took you, hard and fast and deep, claiming what was his.

He grabbed your legs and threw them over his elbows, spreading you even wider, opening you up completely for him before he pounded into you, his cock hitting deep with every thrust. 

When you opened your mouth to moan or scream or fucking something, he clamped his hand over it, muffling the noise. "Shh. What'd I say? Quiet, love."

You could feel his breath on your face, hot and heavy, as he fucked into you harder and faster. Your muffled cries were barely audible under his palm, making everything feel even more desperate.

You could hear skin slapping on skin, the wet noises of his cock pounding into your soaked core, the smothered gasps and whimpers spilling from your covered mouth. You could feel every inch of him as he moved inside you, the feeling almost too much to take.

Each thrust was harder than the last, his hips slamming into yours so hard it made the couch shake. He was relentless, his pace brutal, as he took you, claimed you, made you his fucking property. 

You could feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core, ready to snap at any second.

Suddenly, Satoru shifted your positions, his strong hands gripping your hips as he rolled onto his back and brought you with him. You found yourself straddling his waist, your hands splayed across his bare chest for balance.

"Ride me, love. Take what you need."

You rolled your hips in a slow grind, savoring the feeling of him deep inside you. His head fell back against the pillow, quiet moans rumbling in his chest as you took him inch by inch.

Encouraged by his response, you picked up the pace, rising and falling on his hard length, taking him deeper with each downward thrust.

"That's it, love." Satoru's hands tightened on your hips, helping you keep a steady rhythm. "Ride me just like that."

One of his hands left your hip, sliding up your body to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipple. You gasped at the feeling, your back arching, pushing your chest further into his touch.

Satoru's other hand slid behind his head, propping himself up a bit so he could watch you better. "Fuck, you look so hot like this. My perfect girl.”

You braced your hands on his sweat-slicked chest for leverage, your nails digging into his skin. His hips started to rise to meet your downward thrusts, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every pass. 

"Fuck, just like that. You feel so good. So tight and perfect around me. You're gonna make me come so fucking hard.”

"Satoru," you panted, your head falling back, your spine arching as the tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core. "I'm close. I’m so close—"

But just as you were about to come, Satoru suddenly sat up, his arms wrapping around your waist, his chest pressing against yours. The change in position drove him even deeper, making you cry out and your nails raking down his back.

His mouth found your neck, sucking and biting, leaving hickeys you'd definitely have to cover up tomorrow.

"God, you’re doing so good."

You could tell Satoru was right on the edge with you, his groans turning harsh and throaty, his fingers digging bruisingly into your hips, his movements growing erratic and desperate beneath you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice strained and breathless. "You're gonna make me fucking come.”

With that, he flipped you over onto your stomach, his hands gripping your hips as he yanked you up onto your hands and knees. He pushed your legs apart with his knees, settling behind you.

You could feel the hot, hard length of him pressing against you before slowly, inch by torturous inch, Satoru pushed forward, sinking into you until he was buried to the hilt. He started to move then, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a punishing pace that had the couch shaking and creaking beneath you.

His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he railed you from behind, hitting even deeper than before.

"Satoru," you gasped, your hands fisting in the cushions, your back arching as he pounded against your cervix again and again. "Oh fuck, yes. Just like that. Don't stop."

His hand slid up your spine to fist in your hair, yanking your head back and bending your spine into a deeper arch. You cried out at the sudden stretch, the change in angle making him hit new spots inside you.

Before you could even catch your breath, he pushed your face down into the couch cushions.

"What'd I say? You gotta keep quiet or I'm gonna have to shut you up myself.”

A shiver raced down your spine at his words, his grip on your hair in the back of your head keeping you pinned in place. You could only moan into the plush cushion beneath you, slowly soaking it with your spit as you whimpered and panted with each deep, brutal thrust.

Satoru's thrusts grew harder, faster, more erratic as he chased his release. His hand in your hair tightened, the sting pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

Satoru suddenly wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you up against his chest, changing the angle yet again.

His thrusts slowed, becoming deep and deliberate. He held you close, one arm around your waist, the other hand splayed across your throat, keeping your head tilted back against his shoulder.

"Tell me, did those frat boys ever make you feel this good?" he panted in your ear, his hips rolling into yours in a slow grind. "Did they ever take the time to fuck you the way you deserve?"

You whimpered, your inner muscles tensing around his thick length as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "No." Your hands came up to grip his forearm, your nails digging into his skin. "Never like this. They never fucked me half as good as you do."

He hummed, his teeth grazing the side of your neck. "That's a damn shame," he mused, his hips keeping up that slow, deep rhythm that drove you mad. "'Cause you deserve to be fucked right."

As if to prove his point, he thrust into you even deeper. You cried out, your back arching, your nails leaving crescent moons on his arm. His arm tightened around your waist, the other hand reached up. His fingers brushed over your parted lips, feeling the panting breaths escaping you.

"Open up," he commanded.

Obediently, you parted your lips, letting him slip two fingers into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around them, sucking gently, tasting the salt of his skin.

"Fuck, love. Your mouth feels so good.”

You moaned around his fingers as they thrust shallowly in and out of your mouth. His hips picked up speed, slamming into you harder, faster, spurred on by the muffled sounds you were making.

He pushed his fingers deeper, until they brushed the back of your throat. You gagged slightly, your eyes watering, moaning around each thrust.

"Good girl," he praised, his thumb stroking your cheek, "taking my fingers so well, just like you take my cock."

Satoru's hips were pounding into you faster again. His arm around your waist held you steady as he thrust into you, hitting that spot inside you over and over until your eyes rolled back.

Then, his hand slipped between your thighs to find your aching clit. He rubbed the sensitive nub in tight, deliberate circles, the calluses on his fingertips creating the most maddening friction.

Suddenly, Satoru pushed you forward, your face shoving into the couch cushions again. He draped his body over yours, pressing you deeper into the plush fabric, his muscular arm stretching above your head to keep your head down, his hot breath panting against the nape of your neck.

"Gonna come," he gritted out, his hips moving faster, harder. "Fuck, I'm gonna come so fucking hard."

You could only whine in response, the sounds muffled against the cushion your face was pressed into. Above you, Satoru let out a string of curses, his hips stuttering and jerking erratically against your ass as his orgasm hit him. 

He buried himself balls-deep inside you, grinding against your cervix as he pumped you full of his hot, thick cum.

"Fuck, fuck, you feel so fucking good," he babbled, his voice low and tight as he rode out his orgasm. "You take me so fucking good."

He shook and shuddered and cursed as he tried to catch his breath, his sweaty forehead pressed between your shoulder blades. 

Slowly, he straightened up, your hips still raised in the air, and released his grip on your head, allowing you to turn your face to the side and suck in a desperate lungful of air.

But he didn't pull out. Instead, he started thrusting shallowly into your oversensitive core, his softening cock sliding through the sloppy mess he'd made of you. The wet, filthy sounds of it made your face flame, made your core clench weakly around him.

Then, to your shock, he pulled out completely, making you both wince at the sensitivity. But before you could ask what he was doing, you felt his fingers between your legs, spreading your swollen lips apart.

"Fuck, look at that. You’re so perfect. Prettiest cunt I've ever seen."

You whimpered as you felt his cum start to leak out of you, dripping down your thighs and onto the sofa — the family sofa to be exact. But Satoru didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed fucking pleased by it.

Then, you felt his tongue on you, lapping at your used sex. 

He groaned as he tasted your combined arousal, the vibrations making you clench and shiver. His tongue dipped inside you, scooping out his own cum before licking a broad stripe up to your clit.

You gasped, your hand flying down to clamp over your mouth, stifling the desperate moan that wanted to escape.

"One more, love. One more for me. I wanna taste you coming on my tongue, wanna feel you come all over my face."

With that, his mouth sealed over your clit, as he started to suck in hard, rhythmic pulls, you knew you were done for. Your exhausted body had no defense against his ruthless onslaught, his tongue pushing you to the brink with embarrassing speed.

Your thighs started to shake, your abs quivering as the tension built and built, your core clenching around his tongue. Desperate moans spilled from your lips, muffled behind your hand as you tried to stay quiet. 

But fuck, it was hard when he was eating you out like a starving man at his last meal.

"That's it, that's my girl," Satoru encouraged between licks and sucks, his stubble rasping against your inner thighs. "Gonna make you feel so good, love. Ruin you for all other fucking men.”

It was too much, too intense, too fucking good. 

With a sharp cry that teetered on a scream, you shattered apart. Satoru fucked you through it with his tongue, drawing out your orgasm until you were boneless and shaking.

Finally, finally, he relented, pressing a few soft kisses to your twitching core before crawling up your body and collapsing next to you on the couch. 

He gathered you close, smiling at your weak grumbles of protest as he manhandled you into the position he wanted — tucked against his chest, your face pressed into his sweat-damp neck.

"You're perfect, you know that? Like you were made just for me."

His hand drifted up and down your back in soothing strokes, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. The gentle touch made you sigh, your body sinking even deeper into his embrace.

For a long moment, you just laid there in comfortable silence, basking in the bone-deep satisfaction of being so thoroughly fucked by the man you at least expected to ever fuck in your life.

"You know, Suguru's gonna kill me when he finds out about this."

You sighed against his throat, your fingers absently tracing the defined ridges of his abs. "Mm, probably. He made you promise to keep your hands off me, after all.”

"Wait, you knew about that?"

"Mhmm, he mentioned it once. To be fair, he was pretty drunk at the time."

Satoru huffed, his hand drifting lower to palm the curve of your ass. "Guess I fucked that one up, huh?" he drawled, not sounding the least bit sorry. 

"In more ways than one." You shifted in his arms, propping yourself up on your elbow to look down at him, your other hand coming up to stroke his stubbled jaw. "But seriously, this can't happen again, you know that right?"

Satoru leaned into your touch, his eyes drifting shut for a moment as he savored the feel of your fingers on his skin. "Yeah, I know. We just got a little carried away, that's all. Blame it on the alcohol."

You grinned, tracing the curve of his lower lip with your thumb. "Mhmm. I mean, don't get me wrong, it was—"

His eyes opened, fixing you with a heated look that sent a shiver down your spine. "Fucking good?"

"Yeah" Your hand slid down to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “Real fuckking good. But still, we can't do this again."

Satoru's hand continued to run over your ass, his touch sending heat through your body even as you spoke of ending this. "Definitely can't happen again. It would be a mistake."

You nodded, even as you arched into his touch. "A big mistake. Dad would kill us both if he found out."

"He would," Satoru murmured, his other hand sliding up your side, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast. "And I value my life too much to risk it. Even if the temptation is—"

His gaze raked over you, hot and hungry.

"Hard to resist?" you finished for him.

"Impossible to resist," he corrected, his hand cupping your breast now, his thumb grazing over your nipple. "But we have to. This can't be more than a one-time thing."

You bit your lip, stifling a moan at his touch. "Right. One fun night, and then we go back to normal. Like it never happened."

"Exactly." But even as he said it, he was pulling you closer, his hips coming up to meet yours, his length, already hard again, pressing against your core.

You gasped, your eyes fluttering shut. "Satoru—"

"One more time," he breathed, his lips brushing your ear. "One more time, and then we'll stop. We'll be good."

You knew you should say no, should put an end to this before it went any further. But god, the feel of him against you, inside you — it was addictive. You craved it, craved him, like nothing you'd ever known.

"One more time. And then never again."

"Never again," he echoed as he rolled you beneath him. His body covered yours, his mouth claiming your lips in a searing kiss before he buried himself deep inside you once more.

Little did you know, it wouldn't be the last "one more time" of the night. 

Or the morning. 

In fact, you lost count of how many times you and Satoru broke your "never again" promise before the sun finally rose.

Each time you thought you were finished, that you'd finally satisfied the hunger, one touch, one kiss, one whispered word would reignite the flames and you'd find yourself tangled up in him all over again.

Satoru was just that good. And you were just that far gone for him.

Heaven help you both.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Next day you woke up with a serious hangover.

No surprise there.

You stumbled down the stairs, your head pounding and your stomach churning with the aftereffects of last night's alcohol. And, let's be real, the aftereffects of Satoru's very thorough attentions too.

The memories of what you'd done, of how completely he'd wrecked you, made heat rush to your cheeks even as a pleasant soreness throbbed between your legs. God, you could still feel the ghost of his hands on your skin, his mouth on your—

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

Your dad's amused voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You blinked, focusing bleary eyes on where he sat at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other.

"Morning, Dad," you croaked, wincing at how wrecked your voice sounded.

He raised an eyebrow. "Rough night?"

You flushed, praying he'd think it was just the hangover and not the vivid flashbacks of Satoru pounding you into the couch. "Uh, yeah. Guess I partied a little too hard."

"I'll say." Your dad folded the paper and set it aside, standing up to grab a plate from the counter. "Made you some breakfast. Greasy eggs and bacon, perfect hangover cure. Eat up, then you can go sleep it off before your big tennis match later."

Right. Tennis. 

You'd almost forgotten about the match in the wake of last night's activities. The idea of running around a court in the blazing sun made your head throb even harder.

"Thanks, Dad," you said, mustering up a smile as he set the plate in front of you. "You're the best."

"Mm-hmm. And don't you forget it." Your dad settled back into his chair, sipping his coffee as he watched you dig into your breakfast. "So, you ready for your big match today? Coach says you've got a real shot at taking the title this year."

You swallowed your mouthful of eggs, trying to muster some enthusiasm despite your pounding head and sore thighs. "Yeah, I'm feeling pretty good about it. I mean, assuming I can get through the match without puking on the court."

"If you can party, you can play. No excuses."

"Wow, so inspirational. You should be a motivational speaker."

Your dad snorted. "I'm just here to keep you in line."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't quite suppress a smile. Your dad could be a real hardass sometimes, but he had a great sense of humor and a surprisingly laid-back attitude when it came to your occasional youthful indiscretions.

Perks of having a young, cool dad, you guessed.

"If I win today, maybe I should make this a pregame ritual," you said dryly, taking another bite of your breakfast. "Tequila shots and a good fu—" you caught yourself just in time, "fun. A fun night before every match."

"Good luck getting that one past your coach." Your dad shook his head, laughing. Then his gaze sharpened, his brow furrowing slightly as he leaned forward to get a better look at you.

"Hey, what's that on your neck? Looks like a bruise or something. Did you get hurt last night?"

Your hand flew to your throat, your fingers pressing against the tender spots you knew were littered with Satoru's marks. Shit, you'd completely forgotten about the hickies in your hungover daze. You probably still smelled like sex and Satoru's cologne too, since you hadn't had a chance to shower yet.

Satoru was probably going to be insufferably smug about marking you up like this.

Bastard.

"Oh, uh, it's nothing. I must've just... bumped into something. You know how clumsy I get when I'm drunk."

Your dad's frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as he studied your neck more intently. For a heart-stopping moment, you thought he might call you on your obvious lie, might put two and two together and realize just what — or who — had left those marks on your skin.

But then he just shrugged, leaning back in his chair and taking another sip of his coffee. "Huh. Well, be more careful next time, yeah? Don't want you getting hurt."

You let out a subtle sigh of relief, your hand dropping from your neck. "Yeah, of course. I'll be more careful, promise."

"Good." Your dad nodded, seeming satisfied with your answer. "Oh, by the way, I invited Satoru to come watch your match today. Figured he could use a break from all those long hours at the office."

You choked on your bacon, your eyes going wide as you sputtered and coughed. "You—you what?"

"Invited Satoru. To your match," your dad repeated, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "He's always been so supportive of your tennis career, you know? Thought it'd be cool for him to see you play in such a big match.”

Cool. Right. 

More like hell, considering the man had spent half the night with his head between your thighs and the other half fucking your brains out.

The thought of facing him now, in broad daylight, with your father right there beside him — it made your stomach churn even harder than the hangover did.

"Oh. That's... great," you managed to croak out, your smile so strained it probably looked more like a grimace. "Thanks, Dad. That was really... thoughtful of you."

"Wasn't it?" He grinned, looking pleased with himself. "I knew you'd be happy to have another friendly face in the crowd, cheering you on."

Friendly face. 

Jesus Christ. 

If your dad had any idea just how friendly Satoru's face had gotten with certain parts of your anatomy last night—

You shuddered, trying to shove aside the vivid flashbacks that kept flooding your mind. Now was so not the time to be thinking about Satoru's tongue or his long fingers or his huge, perfect cock—

Fuck. You were so screwed. In every sense of the word.

How the hell were you supposed to focus on your match, on winning the title, when all you could think about was Satoru's hands on your skin, his breath in your ear, his body moving over and in and around yours?

How were you supposed to look him in the eye, knowing what you'd done, what you'd let him do, how completely you'd surrendered to him in every possible way?

And how were you supposed to do it all with your dad right there, oblivious to the secret brewing between his daughter and his best friend?

You didn't know. You had no fucking clue. 

All you knew was that this match, this day, this whole goddamn situation was shaping up to be one of the most awkward, uncomfortable, excruciatingly tense experiences of your life.

And considering you once drunkenly hit on your TA in front of your whole class, that was really saying something.

But what choice did you have? 

You couldn't exactly tell your dad that Satoru couldn't come, that having him there would be way too distracting. Not without raising all sorts of questions.

You were just going to have to suck it up and act like last night never happened, like it hadn't changed every fucking thing between you and Satoru.

Easy, right?

God, you were so fucked.

next chapter ->

author's note: hii friends !! hope u enjoyed this silly little first chapter of my new series & it didn't come across as creepy, and if it did, just ignore it. it wasn't meant that way, of course.

anywayy, it will have three chapters in total and will be mostly smut, not gonna lie, but i really had fun writing it bc it's just pure tension, teasing and stupid conversations that i love to write haha. and also a ridiculously older satoru and a bold reader ?? i think that's my thing to write haha.

anyway, thank you all so much for reading !! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and i hope this fic brings a smile to your face (or preferably other emotions) whenever you read it. stay awesome, friends, and have a fabulous day !! <33

taglist is closed !! you can subscribe to this story on ao3 to make sure you never miss an update :))

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© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or modify my work.

[pit-and-the-pen]

(Nothing But) Flowers

a smutty Eris fic for @tsunami-of-tears's birthday! Happy Birthday! Here's some Eris sex pollen to hopefully add to a wonderful day <3

Eris x reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), Sex Pollen, fingering, p in v sex, praise, Porn without plot.

Wc: 4k

Autumn was still so beautiful to you. Despite being mated to the high lord, you were still in awe of every sight you sunk in. Spring was so different from autumn. With its trees and their myriad of colors, the way the animals scurried around silent safe for some crackling leaves under their feet. And all the new plants you got to explore. Being from spring you had grown up around the soft petaled blooms but here it was so different. Deadly mushrooms and ferns as large as houses. There was always something new for you to find. 

Which is how you ended up far off the path in the forest. Following a trail of almost glowing dust that led to a large clearing full of bright purple blooms. The smell was enticing on its own but the flowers were just so pretty, reminding you of violets. Your hand reached out to touch one of the petals and it seemed to open further to you, almost begging for you to run a finger along the petals. They were soft under your hand. Velvety almost. The pollen at the center of the bloom stuck t o your fingers. The fluff was almost as stick as tree sap and you couldn’t get it off of your fingers as you tried to brush it off on your skirt. You just stared at it, wondering why it wouldn’t leave your skin, but a tree branch snapping in the distance made you realize how dark the sky had gotten. Not wanting to figure out exactly what happened in the forest after dark, you started the trek back to the forest  house.

Despite the air temperature lowering with the sun, you felt your skin starting to heat up. You placed a gentle hand to your forehead, trying to gauge for any fever. It felt normal enough to you, nothing that would explain the way your whole body was starting to flush. It must be all the walking. You thought and just continued on your way. 

By the time you reached the house, you had shed your riding cloak and the first layer of your dress. Skin flushed, you could feel a bead of sweat dripping down the back of your neck and the contrasting coolness had you squirming. 

Eris was sitting in the armchair by the fire, feet perched up and a book in his lap. His reading glasses were halfway down the bridge of his nose. Your mate turned to look at you when you entered and you saw his eyes widen. 

“Sweetheart, are you okay? You look like you’re burning up.” He put his book down and started walking over to you. His scent hit you full force then. Cinnamon, tart apples and a musk that was exclusively Eris. It was enough to send another wave of heat over your skin and draw a long whine from your mouth. The concern only grew in his face as he misunderstood the noise. Thinking it was due to whatever sickness was coursing through your veins and not the growing desire to jump him right then and there. 

He closed the distance between the two of you and reached a hand out to copy your earlier movements, checking for a fever. He jumped at the contact. “Sweetheart, you’re burning up. Why would you go out if you were feeling this bad?” You could only focus on the lingering feeling of his hand on your forehead, the way you leaned in closer to him at the contact. You willed your brain to listen to the words he said, his face letting you know he needed an answer. 

“I wasn’t feeling this bad when I left.” The words felt heavy in your mouth, like your tongue had been changed to iron in minutes. You fought through it as best as you could. “I was walking back to the house and I started feeling like this.”

He didn’t hesitate before he asked, “What did you do while you were there?”

It took you a while to remember. To think back on what you had done all day. 

“I was walking down the path. Just looking around at all the animals, and plants. Then I saw a few flowers that I haven't seen before and went to go look at them. They were so pretty. But they had a…” You searched for the word. “Like a sap almost.” You held out your hand to show him the lingering pollen and found that there was no sign of it, not even a residue. You stared at your hand in disbelief. You haven't washed away the sticky substance, your hands weren’;t sweaty enough on their own. Eris noticed you looking at your fingers and gently cupped your hand in his. You squirmed under the touch. You felt another wave of arousal shot through you and his eyes snapped to yours, nostrils flaring.

“Did the flowers happen to be purple, love?” He asked, voice suddenly low. You nodded and he sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Is that bad?” You asked, scared of his reaction. 

He must have sensed your unease and he calmed the nervous expression on his face. 

“Not bad. Necessarily. We should probably get you in the bath.” He said quickly, changing the topic. 

“Eris, what are those flowers?”

He sighed heavily. “They’re flowers that we grow specifically for Calanimia. You have the stag in spring, and we have a tea that we make from the leaves of those particular flowers. And they…well..they.” His hand came up to scratch the back of his neck as he seemingly searched for the words. It dawned on you then. A tea for Calamia.Your face flushed even more as you took in his words.

“Oh.” Was all you could think to say.

“Like I said, we should get you into a bath. Try to cool you down.” He started leading you to the bathing room attached to your bedroom but his hand on the small of your back pulled a loud moan from your mouth. The heat on your skin is almost searing under the weight of his hand. You arched into the touch as you felt your wetness start to coat your inner thigh. Eris swore under his breath, fingers clutching at the fabric of your dress, trying to steady himself. You turned around to face him and were met with his blown out pupils. His jaw was set tight, teeth picking at the skin of his lip as he stared back at you. All the heat evaporated from your body at that look, pooling into your stomach and breasts. Both started to ache in a delicious way that had you surging forward to capture your mates lips on yours. 

He held you gently, lightly returning the kiss. A groan of frustration left you as you tried to deepen the kiss but he just pulled you away from him.

“Sweetheart.”

“Please Eris. I feel like I’m on fire right now. It’s…Gods it’s like the fucking mating frenzy all over again.” You pleaded and you were telling the truth. Eris and you were unable to keep your hands off of each other for nearly a month when you accepted the bond. It got to the point where you had to send servants away because of the amount of times that they had caught you in various areas of the house. Even then, when you borough them back, you noticed the lack of male servants in the forest house. This burning was so similar, but somehow worse. Fat tears started forming in your eyes at the thought of him not touching you. Even now you were wondering why he wasn’t already inside of you. You could smell his arousal and a quick glance down at the front of his pants showed that he was already mouth wateringly hard. 

“I know. But let’s get you into some cold water and see how you feel after that.” You perked up at the idea. You would have to be undressed to take a bath. And you knew your husband. He was never one to say no for taking you in the tub. So you let him lead you up to your bedroom, knees slightly wobbly like a baby deer. 

He kept the touching to a minimum. Not wanting to rile you up any further, plus his hands were buddy trying to keep yours off of him. 

By the time you two both got to the bathing room, he practically had to pin your arms to your side to keep you from unbuttoning more of his shirt. A heavy pout graced your soft features and he only pulled your lips together before he started to slowly unlace your dress. 

You leaned into his chest as he undid the strings of your corset. Nothing like you normally wore, just a casual walking corset and a single layer of dresses thanks to you discarding part of your outfit earlier. But when his knuckle dragged across the bare skin of your back as he pushed the corset down, you shuddered violently against his touch. His arm snaked around your waist to keep you from collapsing into a puddle on the floor. 

He placed you on the bathroom counter before going to fill the tub. You felt your brain fogging even more as you watched Eris’ back muscles contract. The sight was enough to make you drool. You couldn’t help the thought of how his muscles would flex as he was pounding into you. Eris stiffened as soon as the image popped into your head. Your intoxicated state must have opened up the bond wide and clear for him because you were able to smell his arousal in the room. It almost floated towards you, wrapping around your whole body and making you want to drown in it. 

“Eris.” You whined. You saw the small shake of his head before he turned to face you. 

“Sweetheart.” He took one look at you, the way your skin was flushed, your pupils too-wide pupils, and he moved towards you. He took two long steps before he froze. “Gods. You look good enough to eat but I….” He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, sending a calming caress down the bond. 

Eris picked you up and pried off your arms as he deposited you in the bath. A hiss rushed past your teeth at the cold temperature. He sighed a little and placed his hand in the water, warming it ever so slightly that the goosebumps on your arms went away. 

“Can you come in too?” You asked him, the water clearing your mind a little. Washing away some of the raging heat but leaving you craving your mate none the less. 

“If I do, you have to keep your hands to yourself? Do you think you can do that for me?” He was speaking slowly, giving you time to process his words. You frowned slightly at the idea but nodded anyways, desperate to feel your mate in any way. He placed a small kiss on your forehead and rose to his feet to start taking off his own clothes. 

You didn’t take your eyes away for a second, afraid to even blink and miss the sight in front of you. Inch by inch all of his wonderful body was exposed to you. His pants were last, pulled off his feet with his boxers in a swift movement. Your eyes zeroed in on his hard cock. The tip bright red. He followed your eye line and somehow managed to get you to look in his eyes. 

“Remember what I said?” He asked simply, voice still soft. 

“No touching.” You responded and that seemed confirmation enough for him to climb in behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you against his chest. It took every bit of self control you had to keep your arms pinned to your side. The rational part of your brain reminding you that he was doing this for your safety. For your comfort. 

So you leaned into his touch, savoring the bit of himself he was giving you. Your head was resting on the middle of his chest. Just content to sit in the water with him. But as soon as you got comfortable, another wave of desire pulsed through you. Somehow stronger than before. The feeling made your skin tight, almost itchy and it was painful. You let out a quiet whine, trying to hold back the sound from reaching your mates ears. It obviously didn't work. He would have been able to hear the discomfort if he was in the other room, plus you knew he could feel it being sent down the bond. His arms started to trail lightly up and down your side, resting on your shoulders where he lightly tried to knead out some of the tension resting on them.

The calming action seemed to have the exact opposite effect. HIs hands might as well have been between your legs with the searing pleasure it brought you. A deep moan left your lips that had Eris stiffening again behind you. You felt his touch start to recede and reached a hand up to keep him there. But you remembered the condition he gave you. 

“Please, don’t stop.” You whined out pathetically. Much to your delight, his hands didn’t leave your shoulders. But they stayed still, not wanting to cause another reaction. 

You stayed like that for a few more minutes, the pressure between your legs slowly building hotter and hotter. 

Eris dragged his lips lightly over the junction between your neck and shoulders. You shuddered against him. When he spoke, his lips were right against your ear. 

“Can I try something, my love?” You could have cried at his words, relief rushing through you and causing you to relax further into him. 

“Yes, nother above, Eris please.”

“I know it hurts but I want to see if I can help just a little.” At his words, you felt his fingers gently wrap around your front. Hands slightly warm as he reached for your breasts. Grabbing one of your taunt nipples in between the long digits and putting the perfect amount of pressure on it. When you cried out, he repeated the motion on the other side. Letting you squirm against him, soaking up the pleasure he was giving you. 

ONe of his hands started to glide down your stomach, searing a trail down between your legs. You screamed his name as his finger made contact with your swollen clit. Hips already bucking into his hand. He wrapped his legs over yours, pinning you in place. 

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself, sweetheart. Just sit back and let me do the work.” He said before he resumed his earlier kisses along your neck as he started to slowly circle his finger on your clit. Your head was thrown back, eyes already squeezed tight as you clutched the edge of the tub, knuckles white as you tried to fight the urge to grip his arms. His hand that was still kneading your breast came and gently moved your hand to his thigh. Instantly you clawed your hand around it, grateful for the grounding presence. 

You could already feel your peak nearing, your moans and cries reaching a higher pitch. Garbled version of Eris’ name leaving your lips signaled just how close you were. He sped his fingers up, drawing tighter, faster circles that had you seeing stars. You back arched off of his chest as you felt yourself about to fall over the edge. His teeth lightly nipping at your neck was all you needed to fall apart. Your body jerked at the force of your orgasm, hips twisting as much as you were allowed to. You could still feel your walls clenching around nothing as Eris swiftly drove two fingers inside your aching hole. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, back still arched, head facing the ceiling. Your nails bit into Eris’ thigh, harder than you meant to but as he sunk his fingers in and out of you, you couldn’t find a way to realize your hand. All your brain seemed to be able to do was focus on his thick fingers inside of you, the cold metal of his wedding ring hitting the inside of your thigh. 

“Good girl. You’re doing so good for me.” you whined at his words, unable to respond. 

“I know it hurts but you’re being so good. Just cum for me.” And his words were enough to push you over the edge again. Already so worked up from your first orgasm. His fingers didn’t stop though as you screamed his name. It was hard to tell where one orgasm started and the other one stopped after that. His fingers refused to stop until you were scratching at his wrist, pleading for him to at the very least slow down. He milked one last orgasm from you, fingers brushing against the soft spot deep inside of you and pulled his fingers out from your aching center slowly. You turned around in the tub, facing him before you rested your head against his chest. You heartbeat was frantic at this point but nothing compared to his. 

When you looked at Eris, his face was flushed matching your own. His lip looked like he had spent a good amount of time between his teeth. You placed a small kiss to the small indents on his bottom lip. 

You just rested against his chest, Eris using his powers to keep the bath warm while you came back down to earth. Once you couldn’t hear your heartbeat in your ears anymore, he helped you climb out of the bath. Thinking clearly for the first time in what felt like hours, you blushed. 

“Thank you.” You said to your mate while he helped you dry off, avoiding your breast and between your legs. He slipped one of his shirts over your head, letting it fall past your thighs.The fire was still there but was tamed down to a dull roar. Nothing like the all consuming feeling from earlier. Eris had a self-satisfied grin on his face when he captured your cheek in his hand, pulling you to him as he layed back on the bed. You could feel how hard he still was, even through his sleep pants. 

“Eris…”

“I’ll be fine.” He said in a sleepy voice. He sounded more worn out than you did at the moment. 

“But I don’t want to sleep…” You trailed off as you started running your hand down his bare chest. He groaned when you ran a single finger along the line where his pants sat, hips slightly bucking towards your hand. You looked up at him, his eyes closed, hair still damp from the bath and felt desire sink back into your bones. You paused for a second as your hand dipped into his waistband. He nodded his head, eyes now looking down at you. That was all it took for you to pull his pants down just enough for his cock to spring against his stomach. Your mouth watered at the pretty pink flush it had and as much as you wanted to take him into your mouth the ache between your legs was too much to ignore now. So you quickly slung your leg over his hips and grabbed his throbbing cock in your hand. He let out a string of curses as you ran his tip through your drenched folds, once, twice and then began to sink down onto him. your hands shot out to his chest, catching yourself before you could slump against his chest. His hands were instantly on your hips, clutching at the flesh. Fingers digging in so tightly his nails were leaving behind pretty half moon indents. His throat was tight by the time you sank all the way down. Letting yourself just absorb the pleasure that was the feeling of his cock inside of you. You rocked back slightly and threw you head back at the way his tip pushed against your cervix. This was a million times better than his fingers and once you had adjusted to the feeling you were rocking back and forth on his lap. Hands helping you push off of his hips. He did his best to keep still, the strain in his face proof of that. He wanted to let you chase your high, let you get this damned pollen out of your system. But you weren’t having any of it. 

“Gods, Eris. You feel so good. Filling me up so perfectly.” You started to babble. Letting the words come out in a breathy whine. His hips bucked up as you spoke. Breaking some of the words with high pitched moans. Your nails were leaving angry red lines on his chest and the slight pain only seemed to nudge him even more. You could see the struggle in his eyes as you looked down at him. His lip was slightly bleeding because of how hard his teeth were sinking into it. You lifted a hand off of his chest and pulled his lip from his teeth. You leaned down and gave him a deep kiss. Tongue sweeping across his bottom lip to sooth the angry flesh. The hands on your hip grew slightly warmer as you started to speed your hips up. Rocking back and forth to a tempo you both loved. Your breasts were pushed against his chest from the angle of the kiss, rubbing your nipples against the smattering of hair on his chest. He whined into the kiss as you raised your hips up slowly before slamming them back down. 

“Good boy.” You teasingly muttered against his lips and that was all it took for him to lose that last little bit of control. He grabbed one of your shoulders and pulled his feet flat on the bed. The new angle forces you to sit up. He pulled the prettiest of moans from your lips. Soft cries and hiccups. You felt like he had filled your veins with electricity as he thrusted into you harder. He was grunting from the heavenly pace of his thrusts. You could only let your head fall back as you started racing towards your orgasm. 

‘Are you gonna cum for me sweetheart, come all over my cock?” He said in a mocking tone. He already knew the answer, you could feel your walls fluttering tighter against him. “Go ahead my flame.” His command had you writhing against his lap, legs shaking and it was only his hand on your shoulder guiding you that kept your hips moving. Your whole body felt so exhausted suddenly. But you focused on letting him chase his high. He kept pounding into you. Filthy grunts and moans leaving his open mouth as you felt yourself coming back down to earth after your orgasm. He gave you a few harsh, long strokes and you felt his thighs tense as he came deep inside of you. The feeling of his cum against your walls acted like a balm to the heat against your skin. Satisfying whatever senses the pollen had overtaken. You collapsed against his chest. Both of you sucking down lungfuls of air. You stayed on his chest, only moving enough to lift yourself off his softened length. You giggled a little as you felt his cum pool out of you. The both of you sat there, letting your heartbeats slow down until they're almost in sync. 

“Are you feeling any better?” He said into the crown of your head, his hand tracing feather light touches up and down your back. You just sighed happily and nuzzled further into his chest. 

“I do think we’ll have to take another bath…” You propped yourself up on your elbows, a wide smile on your face. You gave him a dramatic wink. Eris grabbed your arms and rolled you over onto your back. 

“Then let's make sure you’re properly dirty then, shall we my love?” His words made you pull him by his hair to your lips. Whatever it was seemed to be out of your system but seemed to be just getting started for your mate. 

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David and Michael talk about the S2 Finale 🥺

David and Michael interview with Kim Roots from TVLine, about the S2 finale. July 2023 [S2 Promo: C: I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me. We're a team, a grou p. And we spend our existence pretending that we aren't.]

KR: What happens in the finale between Crowley and Aziraphale is something that some fans have been yearning for a very long time. Was there a pressure? Did you have any conversations about what this might mean to the fandom? Talk to me a little bit about like when you found out this was going to happen and kind of your initial reactions.

Michael: Well, you know, the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley, obviously, is something that the audience seemed to really warm to, and obviously was part of why the idea of doing Season 2, you know, seemed like it could be something that could work. Following how that relationship develops has been something that the audiences have really got into. So we've taken that very seriously, and Neil takes it incredibly seriously. So tracking that relationship and that journey between them, because obviously on the surface, they seem like they're complete opposites, and yet clearly, they're kind of compelled towards each other in all kinds of ways. And now that they've been being cut off from their respective head offices, they only have each other, so that pulls them together a lot more, doesn't it? And the stakes are always high around them, and they sort of end up going on a journey together, but it takes them to different places and where we leave things at the end..

David: Well, that's the thing. Nothing is resolved. So whatever happens and whatever you may have seen at the end of Episode 6, it's also important to note that that doesn't finish the story. In fact, that just sor of ruptures things.

Michael: It's the start of another story.

[S2 Promo: A: I forgive. C: Don't bother.]

David:I think you have to be careful if there is something delicate that has generated a lot of excitement about where will that end up. As soon as you end up there, as soon as you finish that story, it's all over, isn't it?

Michael: You don't really want to find out who killed Laura Palmer. [Twin Peaks series plot]

David: Yeah, exactly. Exactly.

KR Like you said, David, there is no resolution, which made me very happy because this feels primed for a third go-around at some point. Have you had any conversations about that with Neil about possibly keeping the story going?

David: Well, if you've seen where Series 2 ends, there's certainly the teasing of further tales to come, isn't there? Whether we will ever find out what those tales are is in the lap of... well, certainly not on our lap.

Michael: No, it's on the laps of the audience.

David: Laps of the audience, yes.

Michael: We are sitting firmly...

David: In the tops of the audience as it streaming.

Michael: Yeah, it's not in my lap. I know that. When we first started Series 1, we always knew that the story went a lot further because Neil and Terry had talked about it. They just hadn't written it down, but we knew there were ideas, and we have not yet reached the end of those ideas.

David: No.

Michael: You know, if we get a chance to tell more of this story, it does already exist.

David: Yes.

[gothcsz]

Purgatory | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader x Fem!OC | ~7.6k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: A threesome between you, your bestie and Javier Peña.

Tags: smut, no plot all porn, bi!reader, f/f/m threesome, light dom/sub vibes, dirty talk (javi and his filthy mouth), oral (f&m), creampie, unprotected p in v sex (you know the spiel. be safe), a small age gap (very vague but javi is older than them), the ladies 69, cock worship, a hint of anal play, cum eating, riding, costumes are kinda involved, JAVI IN THE DEA JACKET OHHHH MYYY—, little to no physical descriptions of reader or oc, javi speaking spanish because i fucking love it, olivia murphy mention (javi would not willingly be at a halloween party lbr), no use of y/n, beta'd to the point where i think there's still mistakes, as usual other shit i'm probably forgetting (lmk what i missed).

A/N: halloween + women + javi p = a very happy kat 🖤 this is one of those works that i really just wrote for me, but am dedicating to @almostempty because she gave us the really hot and sexy ffm birthday threesome of our dreams and i think about honey quite literally all the time 🥵 this is also for all my bi readers out there 💋 i hope you guys like it mwahhh gracias nenitas (gn) 🖤

The air is thick with fog and the pulsing rhythm of bass as you and your best friend strut through the front door hand in hand, slipping into the sea of costumed bodies at the party.

You’re the devil tonight, red latex hugging your every curve, leaving little to the imagination. Your horns glint in the low, ambient light, and the faint glow of your devilish tail sways just above the edge of your barely-there skirt.

Next to you, your best friend, the angel, contrasts perfectly. Her white wings shimmer, the fluffy halo hovering above her head, while her outfit is just as scandalous as yours— tight, sheer, and angelic in all the wrong ways.

You’ve always been a killer combo, and tonight, you’ve turned it up to eleven.

The two of you catch eyes as the fog machine puffs up clouds around your legs, laughing due to already being tipsy from the pregame at your apartment.

You’ve been playing this game since the night you hooked up with her. It had awakened something inside the both of you, some insatiable thrill, and tonight, you’re both ready to explore it further.

After a few more drinks and some obligatory dancing, your eyes start to scan the crowd, teasing and flirting with guys in passing, each one trying to make their move but none holding your interest.

You feel her breath on your neck as she leans in close, whispering about the bartender from your favorite local spot. He’s always had that flirtatious vibe, and you’ve both fantasized about him more than once.

He seems like a viable candidate, until he walks in. The man with the neatly trimmed mustache, older and far too sharp for this crowd.

His dark jacket, marked with DEA in bold letters, swings open to reveal a soft pink shirt, unbuttoned just enough to showcase his strong neck and collarbones.

He’s different, you think. Out of place but in all the right ways.

You nudge your friend, biting your lip and pointing discreetly. “Him,” you whisper, giggling softly as you watch her eyes flick toward him. Her gaze sharpens, lips curling into a smirk.

The lighting in the room casts deep shadows across his face, defining his cheekbones, his jawline—making him look like a fucking dream.

“He’s older,” she murmurs, her voice low with excitement, “but he’s exactly what we need.” 

You can’t help but nod, your stomach fluttering. You know it’s the chase that excites both of you.

“How should we do this?” You ask, finishing the rest of your drink in one smooth gulp.

She doesn’t answer right away, her eyes fixed on the handsome stranger across the room. His broad shoulders stretch against the fabric of his jacket, the way he stands having him look like he’s here on business instead of pleasure, and that only makes him more enticing.

Her lips purse slightly in thought, then her tongue peeks out, wetting her bottom lip. “One at a time,” she finally says, “Don’t want to overwhelm him.”

You arch a brow, leaning in a little closer. “He doesn’t look like the type to get overwhelmed so easily,” you counter, eyes trailing over him again. 

“But have you seen us tonight?” 

She’s leaning into you as she asks, her fruity perfume and the feel of her soft skin brushing against yours is so mesmerizing that for a moment, you forget all about the man.

“We do look pretty fucking hot,” you agree, eyes flicking over her curves in that skimpy angel costume. She giggles, a sweet, feminine sound, and scrunches her nose in that cute way she does when she’s feeling playful.

“Exactly,” she doubles down, her gaze still locked on the stranger. “I’ll go warm him up. Then you can come over.”

“How will I know when?”

Her mouth pulls into a slow, knowing smile, and she gives you a wink that feels like a promise. “Trust me,” she purrs, pulling a tube of lip gloss from the tight neckline of her top. The motion draws your eyes to her chest, where the soft swell of her breasts pushes against the fabric, nearly spilling out.

She rolls the gloss over her lips, making sure every inch is shiny and perfect, and then presses them together with a soft, wet sound that makes your mouth go dry. “You’ll know.”

The simple act makes you want to pull her closer, taste the sweetness on her lips yourself. But that’s for later.

“Alright, go get him, angel,” you murmur as you give her a playful smack on the ass while she walks away.

You watch her hips sway, the curve of her body undeniable in that outfit as she crosses the room with purpose. The closer she gets to him, the more seductive her movements become.

You watch her place her hands behind her back when she reaches him, her posture coy and her smile devilish. You can’t hear what she says, but you don’t need to. His attention is locked on her, his dark eyes raking over her figure, intrigued, just as you hoped. 

The party around you blurs into the background, the music muffled, the chatter of voices fading into static. Your focus narrows, locked on the scene unfolding across the room where she works her magic on the handsome stranger.

She’s doing a damn good job too. You watch as she leans in close to him, her body language playful yet suggestive, the way her fingers trail ever so lightly over his arm, her lips in a flirtatious grin.

She arches her back just slightly to showcase her cleavage, flipping her hair over her shoulder in one smooth, practiced motion. That’s when her eyes meet yours—subtle, but intentional, with a glint that sends a jolt straight through you.

That’s your cue.

Your heart races, a wicked smile creeping onto your lips as you straighten your posture and fix your tits in the slutty red top, making sure they’re sitting just right—nice and perfect.

Your heels click against the floor with each confident step as you walk towards them. There’s a rhythm to it, a sway to your hips that mimics the way she had made her approach.

Up close, he’s even sexier. The moody lighting casts sensual hues of purple, green, and orange that only help him appear more attractive.

His chiseled jaw, curved nose, high cheekbones. He looks too good to be true. 

Then his dark brown eyes lock onto you, and there’s a flicker in them—hunger. Like he could bare his teeth and eat you whole.

It sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the weight of his gaze trailing down your body, lingering on your exposed skin, appreciating every inch of you. 

She flashes you a knowing smile when you sidle up to her. “Javier, this is my other half,” she introduces you, your name falling from her lips sweetly. 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” You can’t help the way your cheeks heat up, feeling giddy.

“This doesn’t seem like your scene, agent.” You purr, eyeing his jacket, “Not a very festive costume, either.”

“Because it isn’t a costume.” He cocks his head to the side, “I just got off work. Had to come by to pick up my niece, Olivia, but it looks like I just missed her.” He licks his lips, “I was on my way out when my guardian angel decided to make an appearance.”

Your friend giggles and you bite your lip. Despite the loud music and other distractions, his voice is so smooth and velvety.

“Wow. A real agent.” Your eyes gleam as you lean in just a bit, close enough to catch the scent of his cologne. “Maybe you should perform a cavity search. Make sure we’re not hiding anything.”

You watch his reaction, a chuckle rumbling low in his throat as he shakes his head.

She sidles closer, her hand brushing his arm. “Think we could get off with a warning, agent?”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you can’t help but imagine what that mouth would feel like on you, how those hands—so strong, so capable looking— would feel gripping your hips as he fucked you.

“Looks like I’ve got myself some trouble tonight.” His eyes sweep over your costumes, taking in every detail, from the way your devil horns glint in the light to the way her angel wings shimmer with every movement. “Heaven and Hell. Guess I’m stuck in purgatory, unsure of where I’m headed.”

You exchange a glance with your friend, the two of you silently playing off each other’s energy, feeding into the wicked thrill coursing through both of you.

Her lips curl into a flirtatious smile, her voice as sweet as candy. “We could help you find your way…” she teases, sliding a delicate finger down his chest. 

You can’t help but smirk, loving how the muscles in his chest tense beneath her touch. “Let us be the angel and devil on your shoulders tonight,” you coo, stepping in on his other side, close enough that your body brushes against his. The heat of him is intoxicating, making your skin prickle with excitement.

“And what’s the catch?”

She leans in, her lips almost brushing his ear as she whispers, “The catch?” She feigns innocence, acting like she doesn’t understand his question, letting her fingers toy just beneath the open collar of his shirt, teasing his skin with the softest of touches. 

“There is no catch, handsome. We just want to have some fun.” Your hand grazes the hard line of his jaw, feeling the faint stubble that tickles your fingertips.

“Fun, huh?” his voice drops lower, rougher, enjoying the subtle touches the both of you are giving him right now. “Then let’s get out of here.”

Your mouth presses hungrily against your friend’s, kissing feverishly, like you can’t get enough. Her lips are soft yet demanding, and every time she pulls away for air, you’re right back on her, kissing down her jaw as Javier’s truck speeds down the dimly lit road.

The flickering street lamps that zoom by create an almost rhythmic flash, illuminating the scene in quick bursts—hot, stolen glimpses of skin, hands, lips.

Your fingers are buried in her hair, pulling her closer as her tongue slides against yours, the wet heat between your mouths making your body hum. The two of you are lost in each other, your bodies pressed together as if the world outside doesn’t even exist.

But it does. And Javier is watching.

You steal a glance toward the front, catching his eyes in the rearview mirror. You can see the strain in his jaw, the way his fingers grip the steering wheel a little too tightly.

“Spread your legs, diablita,” Javier’s voice breaks through the thick fog of lust, so smooth and commanding. It’s like a spell the way your thighs part for him, instinctual, as if he controls every muscle in your body with just his voice.

You expose the red lace of your underwear, a matching set to the white one she has adorning her hips as well. You two were planning to end the night with someone between you.

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her breath heavy, lips swollen and glistening from your kisses. Her eyes are glazed over, lost in the same spell that grips you.

She turns her head slightly, locking eyes with Javier in the mirror, and you can feel the intensity of their silent conversation, like something unspoken passes between them. It’s hot, so fucking hot, the way she looks at him, the way his brown eyes hold her there.

“Now touch her, angel.”

Her hand moves slowly, almost teasingly, fingers skimming down your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. She’s taking her time, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Her thumb brushes over your stiffened nipple, causing you to moan softly and she smirks.

She finally reaches the soft skin of your inner thigh, and your breath hitches as her fingers stroke gently, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

“Like this?” she asks, her voice breathless but playful, eyes returning to Javier in the mirror.

He grunts softly, “Exactly like that.” His eyes flick back to you, and the intensity of his gaze makes your body heat up even more, your hips subtly lifting toward her touch.

“Sexy little set you’re wearing,” Javier muses, “I can only assume our angel has on the same pair?”

Your gaze meets your friend’s, and you both bite your lips, exchanging a flirty look. Slowly, you both nod.

Javier hums in content, his eyes dark and hooded. “Fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs, “Push it to the side, I wanna see her pretty cunt.”

The command is directed at her, and the second it’s given, she’s already moving. She’s never this submissive, always one to take charge, at least with you, so seeing her so eager and obedient to this man definitely has your clit twitching out of excitement.

Her fingers hook around the flimsy fabric of your thong, and with a quick, teasing tug, she pulls it to the side. The cool air hits your wetness, and you can’t help but let out a soft gasp as you’re exposed to both of them.

Javier licks his lips, his gaze honing in on the sight of your messy folds, the lust in his eyes almost overwhelming.

He shifts slightly in his seat, his cock straining against his pants, painfully hard as he takes in the tantalizing view before him. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath, “go on, spread her open. Get her nice and wet for us.”

The way he says us sends a fresh wave of slick arousal dripping from you.

She doesn’t hesitate. Her fingers move with purpose, sliding between your seam and spreading you wide, showing off every inch of you to Javier’s hungry gaze. Her touch is delicate yet firm, and you shudder as she smears your sticky arousal across your sensitive labia.

Your head falls back against the seat, your breath coming in shallow gasps, lips parted as soft moans spill freely from your mouth.

She leans in closer, her lips brushing against your neck as her thumb presses down on your clit, driving you wild. “You’re so wet,” she whispers, her voice breathy, sending shivers down your spine. Her fingers barely dip inside you before sliding back to spread your lips wide once again.

Javier lets out a low groan from the front seat, his eyes glued to the sight of her playing with your cunt. His hand moves to his crotch, palming himself through his pants, his desire barely contained.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, his voice rough with restraint. His gaze moves between your parted lips, the slight tremble in your thighs, and finally to the road so he doesn’t kill you all.

“She is so pretty…” your friend adds her voice to the mix, halting her slow, torturous movements. The sudden lack of friction has you whining softly, your hips involuntarily shifting, chasing her touch. 

But then, instead of returning her fingers to your throbbing, wet center, she brings them to her lips, her eyes on yours. You watch, utterly transfixed, as her tongue darts out to kitten lick the slick coating her fingers, tasting you. The sound she makes—a soft hum of satisfaction, like she’s tasting the sweetest thing—sends another wave of ecstasy crashing through you.

“And she tastes so good,” she moans softly, as though she’s sharing a secret, and the way she lingers on her words makes your breath stutter.

Her gaze flicks to Javier, dark and mischievous as she leans forward slightly, her slick fingers shining with your arousal. “Do you want to try her?”

Javier’s jaw tightens at her question, his eyes narrowing as his desire for you both becomes palpable. The car slows as he nears a red light, giving him a moment to glance at her hand, then at you, before his gaze finally returns to her lips.

There’s a beat of silence, the only sound in the car are the heavy breaths coming from all three of you. 

Without a word, Javier leans over from the driver’s seat, his eyes locked on her fingers as he takes her wrist, pulling her hand toward him. His lips part as he slips her fingers into his mouth, his tongue flicking out to taste you from her skin. The groan that escapes him is guttural, a sound that makes your already wet pussy clench with anticipation and her moan pathetically.

“Fuck,” he mutters around her fingers raggedly. His eyes close for a brief second, savoring the taste of you, and when he finally pulls her fingers from his mouth, his gaze is fucking molten.

Before you know it, her lips are on his, their mouths crashing together in a quick, heated kiss. The taste of you still lingers on both of their tongues, and it makes the exchange all the more intense.

You watch them, your pulse quickening, your body already aching for more as you shift in the seat, thighs still spread.

The kiss breaks as quickly as it began, both of them pulling back, breathless. Javier’s hand moves back to the steering wheel as the light turns green, but his focus is still very much on you two, especially on the way you’re squirming , completely undone by what just happened.

“He’s such a good kisser.” She whispers into your ear, tugging at the lobe with her teeth gently.

“Looked real good. I’m kind of jealous,” you reply, breathless, allowing her to touch you all over, however she wants.

“Don’t be. You’ll get a taste of him too.”

Up at the front, his eyes glint with amusement while he watches, pulling into a nearby spot just outside your shared apartment. Finally.

You two lie back on the bed, stripped down to nothing but your matching thongs and the respective headbands of your costumes—your devilish horns and her angelic halo. Your breasts are fully exposed, nipples hardened by how turned on you are. 

Both of you are propped on your forearms, legs bent slightly, eyes lidded with anticipation as you stare up at Javier. 

He hasn’t even shed the damn DEA jacket. It clings so perfectly to his broad shoulders, the fabric hiding what you know to be a powerful frame beneath. His dark eyes roam over the two of you, drinking in the sight like you’re a masterpiece on display. 

He curses under his breath. “Look at you two… practically offering yourselves to me. Mi diablita y mi angelita.” His little devil and angel. 

His lips twitch into a smirk, and the low timbre of his voice has your core throbbing in anticipation.

With a simple motion, he beckons you over. “Ven acá,” he commands softly, his voice low and dripping with authority.

You move slowly off the bed. As you approach, he takes you by the waist, pulling you in suavely until your chest presses against his. Before you can even catch your breath, his lips are on yours. Firm, hungry, and demanding.

The moment his tongue slips into your mouth, it’s as though you’re lost in him, completely addicted to the way he kisses—so controlling and confident. His tongue moves with a fluid rhythm, caressing every part of your mouth like it’s his territory.

You gasp against his lips when his hand slides down to your ass, grabbing a handful of it with a harsh squeeze, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh. The pain mixes with pleasure, making you hiss, your hips instinctively pressing into him.

From the bed, she watches with wide eyes, her own pussy a mess as she witnesses him feeling you up. Her hand twitches, desperate to touch herself. 

Javier grunts, breaking the kiss with your bottom lip still between his teeth, giving it one last teasing tug before letting go.

He turns his attention to her, giving her a smoldering look that makes her breath catch. “Now you, angel. Come here,” he growls, and the urgency in his voice spurs her into action.

She moves toward him with eagerness, her halo slightly askew as she joins you by his side. You bite back a small giggle at how eager she is, but the moment is anything but light as Javier wraps one strong arm around her, pulling her close just as he did with you. His other hand remains firmly on your waist, keeping you close as well, as if he can’t bear to let either of you go.

Then he kisses her the same way he kissed you. His lips mold to hers, his tongue exploring her mouth as she melts against him. You can feel his hand tightening its grip on your waist as they make out, and it’s almost overwhelming, the heat and need radiating off him.

He breaks away from her, licking her bottom lip, eyes dark with lust. “Not sure if I want both of you kissing my cock,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to you, leaning in to nip at your jawline, “Or one of you choking on it while the other has her mouth full of cunt.”

Your hand fists the fabric of his pink shirt, knees weakening as the weight of his words settles deep in your core. Your mouth waters, not knowing which option excites you more.

“Both sound like a very fun time,” she chimes in, trying to pull his focus back to her, but Javier is too busy lavishing your neck with his lips and tongue.

Instead of replying, he sucks a mark into the tender skin just below your jaw, his mouth devouring you, while his hand trails up her body. Without a word, he presses on her shoulder, silently commanding her to kneel. She follows the instruction without hesitation, her body sinking to the floor between you and him.

You hear the familiar sound of his belt being undone, the metallic clink quickly followed by the hiss of his zipper. But everything else fades away when Javier kisses you again, his lips swallowing your soft moans as he takes his time exploring your mouth.

“Take my jacket off,” he mutters and you obey, pushing the heavy fabric off his broad shoulders, revealing the perfect fit of his pink shirt stretched across his muscular frame.

Holy shit. The sight alone makes you want to rip it off him like a feral woman, but you manage to control yourself, though just barely.

He groans, the sound vibrating into your mouth, and your gaze drops to the sight of the angel between his legs. Her hands wrap around his thick shaft, pressing his cock flat against his stomach as her tongue traces the thick vein running along his length.

He’s unlike anyone you’ve been with before, and the realization only makes your pulse race faster.

“Oh fuck,” he groans again, his hand tightening on your ass, squeezing the soft flesh through his fingers. “My shirt, unbutton it.”

Your fingers fumble with how eager you are. The buttons refuse to cooperate, and frustration begins to creep in, but before you can truly lose your patience, Javier senses it. His lips brush your ear as he whispers, “Slowly, diablita, no te apures.”

You nod, forcing yourself to slow down, digits working more carefully now. You undo each button, revealing the bronze expanse of his chest, inch by inch. Your lips part, taking in the view, gaze roaming over every dip and contour of his muscles.

“Mmm,” you moan softly, leaning in to kiss his collarbones, letting your lips linger over his warm skin. You can’t resist biting down lightly, marking him as if he’s yours, even though you hear the sloppy sound of her spitting below, her mouth working his cock in earnest.

“She doesn’t have a gag reflex…” you whisper against his neck, drunk on his grunts of pleasure. You expect to hear approval in his response, but instead, his brows furrow.

“Really?” He growls, fingers tangling in her hair, and without warning, he pulls her off his cock with one smooth motion. She gasps, her eyes are wide and dazed, still high off the taste of him on her tongue.

“A damn shame,” he tilts his head mockingly, “I like hearing my girls gag and choke on it.”

She looks lost for a moment, pretty lips swollen and glossy with his precome, but before she can protest, Javier’s attention shifts to you. His gaze is searing.

“¿Y tú, diablita? You got that party trick too, or am I going to have to break your throat open by shoving my cock down it?”

The filthy words send a sharp pulse of heat through your body, and you can feel the wetness pooling between your legs, soaking your thong and smearing against your inner thighs.

You’re so turned on you could cry, desperate to feel every inch of him inside you.

“Use my mouth, Javier,” you plead, your voice breathy and wrecked, “please.”

A wicked smile spreads across his lips. “On your knees.”

You don’t hesitate, dropping down to the carpeted floor beside her. Javier holds her by her hair, tilting her head up as he addresses her softly, “You did so well, beautiful girl. Now help her get it wet so I can fuck you.”

She obeys, her lips moving to the base of his cock as you take his thick head into your mouth, the taste of him, mixed with her saliva, having your eyes flutter close. Your tongue swirls around his swollen bulbous head, and then you move together, licking and sucking in perfect harmony.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before sliding his thick cock deeper into your mouth. The stretch is intense, and you feel your throat tighten as you try to take him down. At the same time, her lips wrap around the heft of his balls, and the combination of both your mouths working on him draws a low moan from Javier that makes your thighs tense.

Determined to please him, you push yourself further, choking yourself around his length. Your eyes water, tears brimming as you glance up at him, searching for his reaction. He’s already watching you, his lips curled into that cocky, half-smirk you’ve come to crave.

Seeing that expression spurs you on. You start moving your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks with each slow drag, the gagging sound deliberate as your throat tightens around him. Beneath you, she continues lavishing his balls with attention, her mouth hot and eager, and Javier’s groans grow louder, his hips starting to subtly rock into your mouth.

At one point, the two of you get so lost in it, your mouths collide, tongues tangling as you kiss each other with Javier’s cock between your lips. Her hand slips up to your chest, pinching at your nipples as you both work him, and you hear Javier above you, a mess of pleasure as he watches his two pretty girls worship his dick.

His voice drips with authority as he watches the two of you with dark, lust-filled eyes. “Get on the bed, angelita. Hands and knees. Gonna take your pussy from behind while our little devil sucks your clit and licks at my dick while I fuck you.”

The moment you release him from your mouth with a wet pop, you can feel how swollen your lips are, your makeup smeared, eyeliner streaking down your cheeks. You and your friend look like something out of the filthiest, most erotic fantasy, and Javier can’t take his eyes off you. The thought crosses his mind that if he took a photo right now, it’d be worth a fucking fortune.

You both follow his command, positioning yourselves on the bed just as he ordered. She hovers over you, bent over, her ass high in the air, while your head dangles off the edge of the bed in a perfect sixty-nine.

He undresses, his gaze never leaving your bodies, watching with that predatory hunger as you and her begin to tease each other.

The delicate fabric of your thongs are finally gone and her warm breath ghosts over your exposed folds, making your pussy clench in anticipation.

She starts slow, kissing your inner thighs and around your heat but never quite giving you what you need. You can’t help but let out a whine, wrapping your arms around her thighs and pulling her down onto your face. Her soft, slick lips press against your mouth, and you waste no time licking up the seam of her pussy, savoring the headiness of her arousal.

Your moans vibrate against her cunt as you devour her, her taste overwhelming you, familiar but always intoxicating. Your tongue dances between her folds, lapping up her wetness before flicking at her pearl, making her shudder above you.

Her hips begin to roll, grinding down onto your mouth, but the second her lips latch onto your clit, you lose all sense of control. Her fingers spread your folds apart, exposing your sensitive bud to her relentless tongue, and you cry out into her pussy, your hips bucking involuntarily.

The room is filled with the obscene sounds of your wet mouths working each other over. You’re both so immersed in the pleasure of giving and receiving, that you barely register the bed shifting under Javier’s weight until his hands are on her ass. His large palms knead and spank the supple flesh, making her gasp into your cunt as the flesh jostles against your eager tongue.

“Damn. Look at you two. So fucking hot. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” His voice is a growl, sending a fresh wave of heat straight to your core.

Your only response is a moan as she sucks your clit harder, making cry out. Javier smirks, relishing the sight and sound of you both writhing in pleasure. “I really lucked out tonight.”

He grabs his cock, stroking it as he positions himself behind her. The tip of him slides through along her cunt, teasing her fluttering hole, and you can feel the tremble in her thighs as he lines himself up.

You move your head to kiss and lick the underside of his cock, your tongue tracing the thick vein, working your way down to his balls. Your mouth latches onto them, sucking one into your mouth, your lips wet and hot around him.

You feel her entire body jolt when Javier finally pushes into her, filling her in one smooth, hard thrust. Her moan is muffled by your pussy, her face buried deeper into you, and you can’t help but cry out.

“Oh Javi…” she gasps against you, her voice shaky as she tries to hold herself up, but her face remains pressed to your cunt, her lips still working you over despite the overwhelming sensation of being fucked from behind.

Javier groans above you, his hips rolling into her in deep, slow strokes that make her whimper and squirm against you. “Good job, diablita,” he praises, his voice low and rough. “You hear that?” He thrusts harder, his cock plunging deeper into her, and you hear the slick, wet sound of her cunt weeping around him. “She’s fuckin’ crying for it.”

You can’t even form a response, too overwhelmed by the sensation of her mouth on your clit and your own mouth full of his balls. You’re drunk off the combined pleasure, your body quivering with need, every nerve on fire.

Javier grips her hips tightly, fucking her harder, his pace rough now. Her cries of pleasure are snuffed as she desperately licks at your pussy, her hand skipping down to rub your clit as Javier pounds into her.

The intensity is too much, the pleasure building into a crescendo that has you teetering on the edge of release.

She plunges two fingers inside you, your hips instinctively bucking to meet the pressure, needing more. And she gives it to you, even as Javier pounds the last coherent thought out of her head, his cock relentless inside her.

Every sensation is amplified as your mouth alternates between worshiping the inches of his cock as they disappear and reappear with each powerful thrust, and lapping at her swollen clit, her arousal coating his cock and dripping onto your tongue—sweet, salty, and heady.

Your lips slip from her clit just as her fingers curl inside you, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. You can feel the tension in her body, the way her breath quickens as her head lolls back onto her shoulder, helpless how you’re both making her feel. “I’m right there,” she gasps, breathy and urgent. “Oh god, I’m about to come.”

Her fingers dig deeper inside you, curling, while her thumb expertly flits over your sensitive clit, making your body tremble. Your pussy tightens around her fingers in anticipation, riding that delicious edge with her.

“That’s right, angel,” Javier growls, his voice rough, driving into her with a brutal rhythm. “Come on, make a mess all over this dick.”

His thumb slides down her cunt, collecting the mixture of your saliva, his precome, and her creamy arousal, and without warning, he presses it against her tight, puckered hole. He pushes in slowly, her body tensing, and that’s all it takes.

“Oh fuck, Javi!” she screams, her orgasm crashing into her like a tidal wave. Her fingers freeze inside you as she’s overcome by the intensity of it, her entire body going taut with pleasure

 Her mouth hovers above your pussy, so close, but she’s too far gone to continue pleasuring you.

Javier groans, his hand tangling in her hair, and with one rough motion, he pushes her down, forcing her lips back onto your throbbing heat.

The sudden pressure of her mouth against your overstimulated clit has you yelping, your thighs clenching tightly around her head as the waves of your own orgasm crash into you without warning. Your body shudders, your mouth still working around where their bodies connect, tasting her on him as you both lose yourselves in the euphoria.

He doesn’t let up, thrusting into her through her climax, his grunts echoing in the room. Both of you collapse, sweaty and trembling, drenched in each other’s fluids and completely spent, like you’re drunk off the dizzying mix of sex and pleasure.

But Javier’s far from finished.

“No, don’t quit on me now,” he tuts, his balls heavy and his cock still throbbing with need as he pulls out of her, his slick length absolutely drenched.

Before you can catch your breath, he moves, slipping his cock between your parted lips. Your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion, but the taste of her cum on his velvety shaft makes you moan as you greedily take him into your throat, your tongue swirling around him, desperate to please.

“That’s right, baby,” he groans, his voice thick with satisfaction as he thrusts into your mouth. “Doing so fucking good. Should have you wearing that goddamn halo.”

You hear her soft laugh from beside you as she rolls off, collapsing onto her back, her chest heaving as she stares up at the ceiling, completely blissed out. You feel the heat of his body as he slides out of your mouth, his thumb caressing your cheek before delivering a light slap.

Your skin tingles with the sting, and his next words make your stomach twist with anticipation. “Sit up,” he orders, his voice firm. You obey, your body trembling, ready for whatever he wants next.

“You okay, angel?” Javier’s voice is tender as he hovers over her, planting soft kisses along her flushed skin. His large hands knead her breasts, fingers expertly teasing her nipples with gentle pinches that make her moan.

She arches into him, threading her fingers through his hair, pulling him up for a kiss, their lips meeting with a heated softness.

You can’t resist joining them, your lips finding his shoulder as you bite down on the taut muscle, your teeth grazing the warm skin before you trail your kisses to his neck. He groans into her mouth, making your core ache with need, the sight of them kissing driving your arousal higher.

“I’m fine,” she breathes against his lips, satisfied but not yet spent. “Just need a second. You should play with her. I think she wants you more than I do.”

Javier chuckles, leaving a few more tender pecks on her lips before turning his full attention to you. His dark eyes are almost mocking as they meet yours. “That true?”

You nod without hesitation, not even fully comprehending what you’re agreeing to, but at this point, you’d say yes to anything just to feel his cock inside you, stretching you out, bringing relief to that deep ache.

In one swift motion, he maneuvers you onto his lap, guiding you to sink down on him. Your knees press into the mattress on either side of his hips as you both groan, the tight stretch of him pushing into your wet heat making you gasp.

The burn is exquisite, and the fullness—God, you never want it to end.

You start moving, slowly at first, trying to find a rhythm as your body adjusts to his girth.

His lips latch onto your neck, biting and sucking, leaving blotchy marks all the way down to your breasts. When he wraps his mouth around your nipple, sucking with just the right amount of pressure, you whimper, your pace picking up as the pleasure coils tighter inside you.

His calloused fingers pinch and roll your other stiffened peak, adding to the building tension, making you bounce harder on his cock.

And then you feel her behind you—the soft warmth of her tits pressing against your naked back, her breath hot against your ear as she plays with your hair before sliding down to your hips. Her touch guides your movements, her acrylic nails digging just enough to leave a sting in your skin.

Your head falls back onto her shoulder, your body trembling with the intensity of it all. You catch her eye, and the two of you share a slow, knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the intoxicating pleasure you’re both wrapped up in.

Meanwhile, Javier’s lips stay glued to your breasts, alternating between your nipples as he grunts with each bounce, his cock driving deeper inside you, brushing against every sensitive spot.

“You look so good riding his dick. Don’t know if we’re ever gonna top this,” her hand slides up to tilt your jaw, guiding your lips to hers. The kiss is messy, her tongue swirling around your own, and all you can do is moan into it, completely surrendered to the pleasure they’re both giving you.

Javier detached from your chest, mesmerized by the sight of you two kissing. The tension in the air crackles with desire, and he can’t resist joining in.

The three of you come together in a heated, tangled, trio makeout session—lips, tongues, and breath intermingling in a way that feels both chaotic and addicting.

The scratch of his mustache against your skin sends shivers down your spine, while her soft, breathy moans fill your ears like a sweet melody, lulling you deeper into bliss.

His cock twitches inside you, and your walls respond, squeezing him tighter. You can’t help but grind down on him, your body desperate for more. That sensation is enough to break the kiss, both of them pulling back as you gasp for air.

“Gonna come inside you, diablita,” Javier pants out, his voice low and full of heat. “While our angel sits on my face. That okay?”

Better than okay—it’s fucking perfect.

She giggles softly, and you nod, allowing him to reposition you like a doll in his hands, his strong grip shifting you further down the bed while he stays buried inside you. She straddles his face, her thighs quivering as he pulls her down, his lips already teasing her swollen folds.

You start moving again, rolling your hips as the room fills with the heavy scent of sex, the sounds of pleasure. Her moans grow louder, her head lolling forward as she leans to kiss you again, her whimpers melting into your mouth as Javier’s nose nudges her clit and his lips devour her.

You brace yourself, leaning back and planting your hands between his spread legs as you begin to bounce on his cock, the angle hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. You cry out his name, your voice breaking as the pleasure swells. His hands hold her steady, keeping her close while he’s lost between her thighs, groaning into her soaked pussy as he jerks his hips up, meeting your movements.

She kisses down your neck, her lips warm against your hot skin, trailing down to your tits. Her teeth gently tug at your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core before she lowers herself enough to kitten lick over your clit.

You gasp, feeling her mouth move sinfully against your sensitive pearl, then down to where Javier’s thick cock stretches you wide, her lips brushing against the point where he disappears inside you.

The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, a dizzying blend of pleasure that’s too intense to put into words. “Fuck, keep doing that—oh shit,” you babble, barely able to form a coherent thought. Your body feels like it’s burning brightly as you fist the sheets beneath you, your head thrown back in pure ecstasy.

Javier groans into her, and you feel him start to lose control, his thrusts becoming more erratic. The three of you move together in perfect rhythm, lost in the heat of the moment, riding the waves of pleasure that threaten to pull you under.

Your breath comes in short, shallow gasps, the pressure inside your core winding tighter and tighter with every stroke, every flick of her tongue.

He growls low and deep, pulling his mouth from her only long enough to mutter through gritted teeth, “Fuck, you two are gonna make me lose it.”

The rawness of his voice sends you spiraling. You grind down on him harder, your hips rocking in desperation as your moans mix with hers, a chorus of pleasure that fills the room. Sweat beads on your skin, slicking your movements as you chase your release.

“Come on,” his voice is strained and muffled by her thick thighs. “I want to feel you fall apart on my cock.”

That’s all it takes. With one more thrust, one more wet suck of her pretty mouth, your body locks up, pleasure crashing over you in an overwhelming wave. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you come, your walls clenching around him in pulsing waves.

She moans into your overstimulated sex, humping his face, her movements reeking with desperation until she cries out, her thighs trembling around Javier’s head as her orgasm overpowers her.

He’s succeeded in his goal of satisfying you two which in turn satisfies him, his chest shaking with a groan, cock throbbing as he spills into you. The feeling of his cum filling your pussy up sends another shiver of pleasure through your body, prolonging your high.

You’re all spent, bodies buzzing with the aftershocks of your shared release. Javier’s hands loosen their grip on her thighs as she slowly pulls herself off him, collapsing on the bed and you fall forward onto his chest.

His cock is still softening inside you as he wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you close. He presses a kiss to your temple, his breath hot against your skin.

“You two were... fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs, moving his free hand to rub over her body, making sure to share some comforting, grounding touches with her as well.

She smiles lazily, rolling on her side and cuddling into his side as he wraps his arm around her, her fingers tracing patterns on your naked skin as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, basking in this amazing feeling you don’t think you’ll ever feel again.

The three of you lie there in a tangle of limbs, your heartbeats slowly returning to normal.

His body begins to gear up to slip away, to excuse himself from the bed and let you both rest.

You and your friend exchange a glance, and without saying a word, you share a matching smirk. There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes, and it mirrors your own as you sit up slightly. 

As if on cue, her hand slides down his chest, teasingly brushing over his soft stomach then drifting lower, her nails grazing the skin just above where you’re still connected to him.

At the same time, your fingers trace a slow, sensual path up his neck, your lips brushing against his jawline as you press a gentle kiss there, whispering, “Where do you think you’re going, Javi?”

He groans softly, still a little dazed from the post-coital bliss, but you can already see the spark of renewed interest in his gaze. He shifts and you feel his cock stir again inside you.

“Yeah,” she purrs, leaning in to kiss his neck, her hand slipping lower to toy with him. “We’re not done with you yet.”

Javier chuckles, but there’s a hint of surprise in his voice. “Oh, really?” His hand grips your waist a little tighter as his other palm slides down to cup your friend’s ass, pulling her closer against him. “You two think you can handle me again?”

The playful challenge in his voice only makes you both smile wider. You rock your hips ever so slightly, feeling him hardening inside you. “We know we can,” you murmur, your voice dripping with lust.

“And we’re not letting you go until we’ve had our fill.”

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @persephone-girl . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled .

@puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @pepperstories . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @angiewatson . @dinanabuu . @sunshinefive .

[cheriladycl01]

Third-Wheeling - Lance Stroll x MexicanOlympicGolfer! Reader

Plot: Your best friends with Lily Muni He, as your fellow Golfer. She tries to set you up with all of Alex’s friends, first it was Carlos, then it was Charles, then it was Lando and then it was Yuki, finally Lance comes along suddenly interested in his new hobby!

You participated in golf and met Lily at a young age. You’d been friends and rivals ever since.

Once Lily met Alex, and you got your first Olympic medal, going to the races was very very exciting for you as it was a chance to see Lily away from the golf course and meet lots of other athletes.

Eventually you, Alex and Lily became a sort of meme on the internet, Alex and Liky were funny enough on their own, joking around and making funny TikTok’s that the fans loved, but once you were added to the equation fans saw you three as a family.

You never really considered yourself to be third-wheeling however it did feel slightly like you were their adopted child.

You were a very anxious soul and weren’t a confident person when it came to speaking out or anything, unless it was on a course when you were competing. As a result you didn’t go out much, and when you did you stuck to Alex and Lily like Glue and Lily could see the pondering looks you gave some of Alex’s friends so that’s when the operation started.

SET Y/N UP

You didn’t know it was going on at first as Alex and Lily were incredibly subtle about it, not ever giving away that they could possibly be the ones behind the increase in boys messaging you. Particularly F1 drivers.

The first boy to reach out was Carlos Sainz, he had sent you a really sweet text, in Spanish which you were very thankful for as your English still wasn’t as good.

You guys went out on a lovely date, walking along the Spanish beach you were smitten. But there was issues that came with it. You were 22 and he was 29 and there’s was clear differences in maturity, and both of you were not looking for that. It was an easy conversation really, both agreeing that it wasn’t in the best intentions to move forward.

Months later and he had a picture up with Scottish Model Rebecca Donaldson and you couldn’t be happier for him.

But you were still single and Alex and Lily wouldn’t give up.

When they tried to set you up with Charles you were immediately shut down, he was in a relationship with new partner Alexandra Saint Mluex and once you met her you both got on so well. Being similar ages and now you could say you had another friend within the wags on the grid.

Charles and you also became good friends and you got a lot of hate at first because Alex wasn’t in the eye of the media unlike you were and not many people knew that her and Charles were dating and they thought it was you, calling you a homie hopper or a grid hopper.

You guys addressed it immediately, and that was that.

The next person was Lando, and this was half your own flirtatious self working and half Alex and Lily whispering about you in Lando’s ear.

You guys had fun, like lots of fun. You were spotted golfing with him. You were spotted in clubs with him, and then spotted going home with him where you guys … well.

But when you thought it was about time you had a conversation with Lando about becoming serious he was ready to tell you he was happy to keep things strictly as friends with benefits and he just wanted to fuck about.

Lots of fans were confused when you had stopped being sighted with Lando as they actually thought you guys would be the perfect pair after his last good relationship.

But when he was spotted out with Magui, it was clear you’d been fucked over. You’d posted a lot of self-help and self-improvement quotes on your twitter feed furthering the fans thoughts that Lando hadn’t been as loyal or something.

Thankfully Lily was there for the backlash when you cried to her about not knowing what you did and if there was anything you should have done differently.

After Lando, they tried to set you up with Yuki, but you were so so different. Communication was pretty difficult, the common language being English with you both, meaning you did struggle.

Yuki was also very shy around you, and it just … didn’t work which was really unfortunate as you absolutely adored Yuki.

Alex and Lily were on the verge of giving up, not many of the other drivers being age appropriate in their eyes or they weren’t single.

Lance had of course noticed you. How couldn’t he, you were incredibly beautiful and so smart and accomplished in life.

So he picked up golfing, he tried to find local courses whenever there was a race on that you’d be going to attend with Alex and Lily.

You hadn’t noticed Lance and his new golf obsession.

That was until you were golfing alone at a range just practicing your swing and Lance Stroll was there with Fernando and his father.

They immediately recognised you, as a pretty notable golfer, having two gold medals under your belt now and many LPGA championships.

And after that you got Lance’s number. Without the help of Alex and Lily who had not even considered that you and Lance would get alone as friends let’s alone date.

“Golfing today?” He asked as you were polishing and cleaning up your clubs.

“Mmmmm, would you like to come with me?” You asked, Lance loved coming with you, even after you’d noticed him and got together.

“You know I’d love to mi amor” he smiles pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Lance’s favourite days with you were going out to the local golf club, spending the morning golfing having a nice fancy club lunch before you both trained in the gym. It meant that you were both doing stuff you needed to do for training but you were able to do it together as a couple.

You would never trade these days in either. You loved paralleling with him and feeling like you were working together as a couple to reach both your goals.

You also loved going to family dinners with him and Chloe. They came to your family home where your mum made them typical Mexican cuisine and then you’d go to the Stroll family home for your favourite breakfasts with Canadian Maple Syrup.

Life couldn’t get any better and Lily and Alex when they found out, couldn’t be happier for you.

y/user

Liked by alex_albon, lilymhe and lance_stroll

y/user: life lately with my fave duo 📸

Tagged 2 people

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williamsracing: when will you next be in the paddock :(

-> lilymhe: she’s been cheating on us I fear admin

-> williamsracing: WHAT DO YOU KNOW

-> user1: admin panicking fr

->astonmartinf1: 👈🏼👀

-> user2: TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW ASTON

alex_albon: why do you never get candid pics of me, but always get candid pic of Lily…

-> y/user: she’s always camera ready … unlike Mr. EyesShut

-> lilymhe: I slay always 💕

lilymhe: you are so beautiful 🤩

-> y/user: says the literal princess 🌸

lance_stroll: Woah hermosa 🥰

Instagram Story Caption:

Lily ditched me, so I had to find a new golfing buddy @ LanceStroll 👋🏼👀

Taglist:

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[sebastianswallows]

Nobody's Darling — 1. The Road

— PAIRING: Benny Cross x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Benny comes across a girl walking alone in the middle of nowhere and offers her a ride to the nearest town. They stop at a motel.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 3.1k

— A/N: Hello, my dears! So yeah, I saw The Bikeriders because of Austin (and Tom Hardy) and of course I had to write something for it 😂 I've been labouring at it for the past two weeks lol This was meant to be a one-shot but it kept growing and I decided to split it into chapters. The plot is partly based on something that happened to me, namely I missed my stop and the bus drove me way out of the city before I realised what had happened 💀 Anyway, hope you enjoy it! 😘💕✨

Grey clouds floated across the sky. Fields of yellow and burnt grass rolled along like waves. A string of birds cut through the far horizon. The fading light of the sun seeped softly through the glass and warmed her cheek but she was happy to keep sleeping, caught in that special spot between awake and dreaming when her thoughts were peaceful, settled, and she could weave from them a pretty fantasy. The chill of a November evening didn’t quite make it into the bus but the windows were already fogging and the seats grew cold.

She woke up with a start when the wheels struck a hole in the ground and everything jolted.

“Where am I?” she groaned, squinting at the window. Her reflection frowned back but beyond it, she could see… nothing. She was in the middle of nowhere with only naked fields and swaying power lines around her. She checked her watch and her heart stopped.

“I should’ve been home by now. Oh no, I did not sleep through my stop,” she whispered to herself — but she did. “Wait! Driver!”

She got up and ran to the front, scrambling past all those empty seats, her jacket in one hand and purse flailing in the other. The driver gave her a bored expression as she leaned panting against the divider.

“Wait, please, I need to get off! Where are we?”

The man looked at her with all the serenity of an overworked drone in a dead-end job. He didn’t seem particularly alarmed to see her there, nor did he seem to care about her predicament.

“Halfway to the next town,” he mumbled as he started to slow down. “There’s another stop ‘bout a mile back.”

“Great…”

“Next bus comes tomorrow ‘round seven thirty.”

“Oh.”

She looked around again as if she could see something different from up here but it was all the same. The vastness of it frightened her and she half-wished she’d never woken up.

The driver pulled over at the side of the road and tilted the cap on his bald head, his teeth tight around a toothpick.

“You’ll be alright?”

“Yeah…” she said automatically. “Sure.”

He opened the door and her whole body began to tremble, the situation suddenly completely real. She gathered all her nerves and put one step in front of the other, and as soon as her feet were on the ground the bus started to move again, driving away.

The sun was dipping into a pool of pink and the birds that circled overhead were growing louder. She was alone in a darkening field with nothing in front of and behind her except for lamplight spilling yellow and pale over an empty road and dead grass all around. If she regretted getting off that bus, it was too late now.

“At least it was warm inside,” she muttered. “But I could never make it back in time for work tomorrow from the next town… Damn it.”

There was nothing left to do. She sighed to herself and started walking back. In her head, she tried to calculate how late it would be by the time she made it home but each result only scared her further.

“Best not to think about it,” she said. “Just keep walking…”

She hadn’t gone on such a hike since she was a little girl, and never far outside of town. She’d only walked through fields and meadows and the forest that stretched east. There was certainly no time for it since getting hired at the local newspaper, and she liked it that way. Her days were measured and predictable, her clothes were always clean, and nothing ever hurt her — except her back if she sat down writing for too long. She was scared now not just because she was alone and in the dark but because she’d never done a thing like this before. Her heels were unsteady on the crumbling tar and her purse felt heavy on her shoulder. Insects were singing in the grass and creatures rustled through it that she dared not think about. Were there snakes around here? Rats? She pulled her jacket tighter around herself.

After half an hour she came across the bus stop that the driver mentioned. The sign for it was half-chewed off and the wooden bench was worn and stained a sickly yellow beneath a flickering light. She considered for a moment sleeping there until the morning but then the ignominy hit her: to sleep on a dirty wooden bench under the flutter of moths and mosquitoes. To come home unwashed and stinky with her hair a mess and her stockings torn. And if any of the neighbours saw her… No. She walked past that bus stop and didn’t look back, and soon found herself surrounded by darkness again.

“You deserve it,” she muttered as she wrapped her arms around herself, her body ambling forward with none of the grace and poise she had half an hour before. “How could you fall asleep? You weren’t even that tired, and the bus ride is so noisy. You couldn’t wait another ten minutes to get home? Idiot, idiot…”

The walk back to the city was taking longer than she thought it would, and by eight o’clock she was still out there. The sky was sprinkled with stars and the wind was flitting gently through her hair and the creatures in the bushes were growing ever louder. If she weren’t so cold and terrified she might have felt exhausted. Her feet hurt and her back was bent under the weight of her purse and she hadn’t eaten since noon. But suddenly, in the distance, she saw a glint of something made of glass and metal — it was a phone booth. The joy that rushed through her wiped all her pain away and she hurried to reach it, nearly tripping. She felt halfway home as soon as she stepped inside its murky walls.

“Please work, please work, please please please.”

She picked up the receiver and held it on her shoulder as she opened the phone book and started leafing through for the nearest police station. They would be obliged to come and pick her up — that is if she could only explain where she was…

“Hello? Operator?” But no voice came from the other side. The tone was dead. “Operator?” she tried again, her voice growing shaky. “Hello? Anyone?”

As she kept tapping on the phone hook, desperate to reach someone, a bright light came peeking over the horizon from the direction she had just come from. It couldn’t have belonged to a car but whatever it was that approached her was fast and loud as all hell. She held her breath as she watched it getting bigger, brighter, closer. This was the only driver she’d seen the whole night and she was equal parts hopeful and horrified of just what it could be. After all, what kind of person would be out driving at this hour on a weekday?

She forgot about the telephone as she followed this strange light until it was close enough to blot out all the darkness. It blinded her for a moment but that thunderous rumble soon settled to a pur and it stopped on the other side of the road from her. When her eyes adjusted to the brightness she realised it was a motorcycle, thin and lean and silver.

Its rider propped himself against the ground on one long leg clad in blue jeans and reached into his pocket. He was tall and slender, his figure swathed in shadows, his motions simple but relaxed and almost elegant.

“It doesn’t work,” he said as he lit a cigarette. “Been broken for a while now.”

The flash of flame from his zippo lighter gave her a hint of his face. He was young, perhaps even younger than her, with full pink lips and a slight stubble, soft blue eyes, and a sprinkle of dirt like freckles on his face. There was a wildness to him and an air of gentleness as well, but his jacket was a dark denim and thick with patches, symbols that probably meant something to him — he must’ve belonged to some sort of “club”. She didn’t know much about bikers aside from what she read about them in the papers, but they’d always seemed to be a bunch of layabouts. Aside from drinking far too much and smoking she knew they got into trouble with the law, had fights, caused accidents, and were generally dangerous to be around.

“I’m… just trying to get to town,” she said in a wary voice.

“Well, I’m headed that way.”

She said nothing, her hand still frozen on the telephone.

“Want a ride?”

It was a tempting offer but one that made her shiver. She’d never been around a man like that, never even exchanged words with one, and everything that she expected from his kind — rudeness, lewdness, and a bad attitude — was suspiciously absent from him. He looked at her with those soft eyes, his long leg braced against the road, and waited. She should have accepted his offer, she should have just gotten on his bike and wrapped her arms around him, but… she couldn’t.

“No, thank you.”

He kept on smoking quietly and looked her up and down much as she’d done with him. She wondered what he saw… She was probably a pathetic sight and a strange kind of person to come across in such a place. When his eyes finally left her figure they strayed across the wilderness. There was nothing around them for miles, they both knew that, and other cars wouldn’t be around that road for hours.

“You know how far away you are?” he asked, rolling the cigarette between his fingers.

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s a long walk.”

“I don’t want to…” She was about to say she didn’t want to ride all the way back with a stranger but instead said, “trouble you.”

He didn’t react at first, keeping that air of stillness about him that made her wonder what he thought. But after a few moments, he nodded and dropped the cigarette, crushed it underneath his boot, and with a leisurely motion mounted his bike once more and revved the engine up. Before she could say another word he’d already sped into the distance and left only a cloud of dust behind.

She almost felt sorry to see him go. Almost felt guilty too… She didn’t want her distrust of him to be so apparent or to cause offence, no matter what kind of a person he was. But she told herself he must’ve been a dangerous man and that she was better off alone than riding back to town with him. Well, she wouldn’t be riding back with anybody now… The telephone line was dead, just as he’d said. The wire must’ve been disconnected somewhere.

She wanted to cry. Instead, she began to walk once more, trudging through the dark.

The sky was as black as a curtain cast across a silent stage and against it lit from below the pale lights of interspersed lamps. The roaring of the bike got slowly lost in the road that lay before her and soon only her steps echoed to remind her of how alone she was. She watched the small light of the rider fade and hugged herself against the cold, holding the purse to her chest as if it could protect her. Her feet were hurting so much she worried they were bleeding and she considered taking them off until she looked down at the road and its uneven dirty tar. She closed her eyes even as she kept on walking, too tired to gaze out at the same old nothingness again.

But then she heard a roar floating on the wind and felt a tremble in her chest as if an earthquake was approaching, and when she opened her eyes again she saw that lone light making its way back to her. He seemed to ride back faster than he did as he was leaving and he reached her in no time at all. She slowed down to a stop and so did he, parking right beside her.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward, boyish way. “Look, I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. But I can’t just leave you out here. You sure you don’t want to —”

“Alright,” she said, her voice already weak and weary. She was hungry and cold and scared that she’d never make it back to town that night. Too scared to refuse his help a second time. “Just… just get me to the edge of town. I can make my own way home from there.”

If he was surprised at how quickly she accepted now, he didn’t show it. He simply moved closer to the front of his seat and made space for her behind him.

She took a deep breath and approached him carefully as if he rode a beast, not something made of metal. It looked solid and precariously thin at once and yet he straddled it confidently. The saddle looked just big enough for two. She hopped on as best she could and tried to keep her legs together but when he looked at her over his shoulder he shook his head and laughed.

“Legs on either side,” he said. “You’ll fall off if you ride like that.”

“But, my skirt…”

He looked up and down her legs and she tried not to read too much into the way his eyes had darkened.

“Roll it up,” he said in a low and soothing voice. “Don’t worry. I won’t look.”

She held her breath as she rolled her skirt up high enough so that she could throw her other leg over the side. He waited while she settled into the position and planted her feet firmly.

“Ready? Hang on,” he said as he revved the engine up. “I’ll go real slow, alright?”

“A-alright…” she said as she placed her hands timidly around his waist.

But he didn’t go slow, at least not by her standards.

It was completely different to riding in a car, more visceral and real with no windows to protect her. She let out a little scream and clung to his body more tightly than she meant to, eyes falling shut, legs tightening around his bike. He smelled of gasoline and metal and several days’ worth of sweat cooled down by the chilly autumn night but he felt so solid in her arms, so firm and steady, even as the world flashed by. Eventually, she was brave enough to rest her cheek against his back and opened her eyes to look at the vacant countryside. It was a little frightening, as she expected, but peaceful too. As she fisted her hands in his jacket, right over his heart, she tried to peek over his shoulder but could just see the side of his face, focused and relaxed, and the white circle of the headlight. Somehow, that was enough for her. His hair tickled her forehead, feeling softer than it had any right to be, and she found herself smiling. There was something base and ancient in the way he smelled, the way he spoke, even in the way he moved. It was as if he had in him the blood-memory of an ancient Knight on armoured steed galloping alone and steadfast through the fields and woods of untamed lands.

The outskirts of town were much tamer than that, however, and before long they could see the faint lights of the outermost buildings, squalid flats, and blinking advertisements. When he started slowing down she felt herself breathe a sigh of relief. It must’ve tickled the back of his neck because he bent his head forward as if to get away — or to ask for more.

“Where are we?” she asked once the noise of the motorcycle died down.

“Marshal Avenue,” he said, easing the bike to the side of the road.

She didn’t know exactly where that was, but she guessed they were on the other side of town from where she lived. All along the street were boarded-up shops, derelict flats, and liquor stores. Across from where he parked was a building that looked to be about a hundred years old. She could hardly fathom walking home at that hour, especially through a neighbourhood like that, but it was better than being in the middle of nowhere.

“Well, thank you. For the ride.”

He lit another cigarette and dismounted the bike, rolling his broad shoulders to unwind. She got off quickly, scrambling to cover her legs in the crumpled skirt before he turned around and saw her. He gave her a look over his shoulder when he heard her fussing and slowly turned around.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”

“Yeah, I… I can walk from here.”

He looked at her and stayed quiet but there was something in his eyes behind that veil of smoke that made her curious about what he had to say. He simply nodded and turned toward that old building behind him. She hugged herself and looked up and down the street, waiting for him to say anything — to ask for money, to make fun of her for thinking she could make it home, to make a pass at her…

“Well, good night,” she said.

And as soon as she started walking away he spoke to her again.

“Hey, it’s kinda late. They got rooms upstairs.”

“What?” she asked, turning on her heels a bit unsteadily.

“Owner knows me,” he shrugged, crushing the cigarette beneath his boot and immediately lighting up another. “Could get you one for cheap.”

She shifted her weight from one foot to another and looked around pretending to think… but her eyes kept coming back to him. He puffed quietly away and gazed at her with no design behind those clear blue eyes, looking just as uncertain and awkward as she felt standing in the middle of the street. She didn’t want to trust him but a part of her responded in the same way that she did when she saw a homeless puppy.

“You mean, a room of my own?”

“Yeah.”

She looked from him to the large building again.

He could probably tell that she was torn because he helpfully supplied, “They got food too. Hungry?”

She was. It had been over twelve hours since she’d eaten or had anything to drink.

“I kind of am.”

“Me too,” he said. “Come on.”

[meazalykov]

Salma or Selma?

Salma Paralluelo x BarcaPlayer!R x Selma Bacha

Warnings: angst, anger/sadness, cheating, betrayal, author making up future champions league results for the plot so please don't bully me if things go differently irl, long chapter

The last few months were a whirlwind of emotions for Y/n L/n. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, an unsettling sensation that gnawed at her insides like a persistent itch. Despite the facade she tried to maintain, there were moments when doubt crept in, casting a shadow over her once happy and carefree personality. 

Y/n found herself second-guessing every word that came out of Salma Paralluelo’s mouth. A year ago, Salma and Y/n started dating. This boosted the joy in the 20 year old’s life.

She found warmth in Salma's touch and a kindness in her gaze that made her feel cherished and adored. She thought highly of Salma, being there for her when she won the World Cup, despite her own country being eliminated in the Round of 16. 

On the field, outside of their relationship, they’re a duo in Barcelona that couldn't be stopped by the opposition defenders. Y/n is a left winger while Salma was mainly positioned as a striker. The amount of goals and assists they’ve given each other boosted their playing confidence more. 

Overtime, the colors in the sky turned cloudy.

When Salma wasn’t with Y/n outside of football, the Spanish girl was with the goalkeeper on their team, Cata. This didn’t concern Y/n at first, the girl had trust in Salma and building bonds with teammates is important. Salma knew Cata before she knew Y/n anyways. 

Eventually, small things started to creep up onto Y/n’s mind. Salma and Cata had small inside jokes together. The duo were affectionate, which Y/n didn’t mind at first because that behavior isn’t uncommon in Spain.

Y/n suspicions were confirmed once she noticed Salma starting to ditch her to hang out with Cata, almost everyday. 

Salma promised that she is helping Cata with a recent breakup. Y/n wanted to press further but didn’t. The girl knew that other close friends on the team, Esmee or Ingrid for example, would tell her if they suspected something with Salma and Cata too. 

Though she desperately tried to dismiss her suspicions as paranoia, the nagging feeling persisted, festering beneath the surface like a wound that refused to scab and heal. With each passing day, as Salma continued to ditch their plans, Y/n's unease grew. And little did she know, the tempest of betrayal that awaited her would challenge everything she thought she knew about love and trust.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Y/n yelled as she turned into a hallway at Johan Cruyff stadium. She walked with Esmee Brugts, happy about their win against SK Brann. Now, she stood as her heart sank into her stomach, shattered in a million pieces. 

Cata had her arms around Salma as the girl kissed down her neck, stopping once she heard the scream of her actual girlfriend. Salma jumped away, pushing Cata before looking right at Y/n, not knowing what to say at first. 

“So this is w-why you we-were ditching me?” Y/n’s voice broke.

The left winger started to panic. For a second, it felt as if she couldn’t breathe. The suspicions she had were real and weren't just a story she made up. Esmee noticed her panic, she gently pulled Y/n’s arm and turned her away from the cheater and the goalkeeper before things got worse. 

“Y/n wait-” 

“Not now.” The Dutch cut Salma off, looking at her with sadness and slight disappointment, before pulling Y/n away from what occurred. Esmee couldn’t believe what her friend was capable of too. 

The team didn’t find out what had happened. Y/n, Esmee, Salma, and Cata only knew. A week later, Salma showed up to Y/n’s apartment. She begged for another chance and mentioned that she cut Cata off. Y/n didn’t respond to her pleas for a couple of hours while Salma begged in her apartment.  

Eventually, Y/n took Salma back. With a heavy heart and a tentative embrace, Y/n chose to believe in the possibility of redemption. She missed Salma’s presence and allowed herself to be enveloped in the warmth of Salma's embrace once more.

The American international didn’t let the Spanish girl come back without promises though. She told Salma that she couldn’t talk to Cata outside of football, not mention what happened to anyone except for who already knew (Esmee and Cata obviously), and not to ditch her again. Salma smiled and agreed. 

For a month, things between the two looked the same from an outsider's perspective. They would’ve said that Y/n and Salma looked extremely happy with each other. Y/n scored 4 goals against Chelsea in the first leg of the Champions League Semi-Finals. Salma had the brightest smile as she hugged her girlfriend. 

However, the scars of betrayal ran deep. Y/n never let the betrayal between Salma and Cata go. When Cata tried to congratulate her on her goal, Y/n just walked by her, saying “Thanks.” No hug or high five. 

Sometimes, she wonders if they’re still interested in each other. Y/n hopes she's not in the way of any possible feelings between the Spanish girls. 

Barcelona and Chelsea still have to compete in the second leg of the Semi-Final, but Y/n believed that Lyon and Barcelona will go head-to-head in the Champions League Final. Lyon is facing PSG in the Semi-Final but they've won the first leg 4-1.

Y/n is excited about a possible Champions League final, last year she won the final against Wolfsburg because of her goal that pushed Barcelona up 3-2 in the second half. 

A day after she got back from London, Y/n went out to celebrate with a few friends who came to Spain, from America, to visit her. Salma didn’t come with her to meet her friends because she wanted to go to a gym session instead, which Y/n believed. 

(Pretend this is you in these pictures below) 

y/n.l/n

tagged: urbestie

liked by selma_bacha, malpugh, and 44,927 others

americans in espana 🇪🇸🌞

comments

salmaparalluelo 😍😍

malpugh you're so cute

wososoccer478 she hasn't posted with salma in nearly 8 months 🥴

leahlover8 I noticed that! They're still together in fcbfemeni training pictures so they're okay I believe

aitanabonmati ☺️

esmeebrugts no invite? 😧🇳🇱

y/n.l/n next time Es I promise!

wosotranfernews the best friendship ^

----

A few hours after she posted on Instagram, Y/n got home to her apartment and took off her sandals. She placed her sandals right by the door before walking to her living room and laying down on top of her comfortable ivory couch.

She pulled her phone out of her brown leather bag, clicking on the lock button to see no notifications from Salma. Y/n heart started to race but she ignored it when she saw the sole notification on the phone from Instagram. 

selma_bacha 

hey 

Y/n raised her eyebrows in confusion as she stared at the notification on the pink iphone. She knew the french player who currently played at Lyon. Even though she is confused, she is intrigued too. Why is Selma reaching out to her, and why now? Selma and Y/n followed each other three years ago but haven’t talked until now. 

y/n.l/n 

hey. how are you?

The Barcelona player typed out a response, waiting for the response from the girl behind the screen. 

----

When y/n looked up at her phone, she noticed that it was twenty minutes past midnight. She got home from dinner with friends around nine. The conversation she had with Selma lasted three hours. The American scrolled down on her phone to see if she had notifications from her girlfriend Salma. 

None. 

The girl decided to give Salma the benefit of the doubt, despite her past cheating. Y/n continued to text the French girl for a few minutes before they’ve both decided to call it a night. 

selma_bacha 

goodnight 

y/n.l/n 

goodnight 

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat as a message from Selma illuminated her phone screen. The simple message might be nothing to others but to Y/n, it held a power within them. It had been so long since Salma had taken the time to bid her goodnight or good morning, even though they’ve been together for 14 months. The gesture from Selma touched Y/n in a way she couldn't quite explain. 

The American took a shower, changed into her night clothes, and laid in her bedroom in the quiet darkness, her thoughts drifting back to her conversation with the Lyon player. Talking to her felt so easy. Sometime in the conversion, their typed messages turned into audio messages and their shared laughter after their jokes made y/n happy in the absence of her girlfriend. At that moment, Y/n knew that she needed to talk to Selma more. She had so much in common with the Lyon player and their sense of humor aligned. 

-----

A month has gone by and Y/n was right, Lyon and Barcelona would be facing in the Champions League final. She felt a wave of excited emotions, knowing that this will be her second final with the team.

In the second leg against Chelsea, Y/n scored a hat trick and Caroline Graham Hansen scored the fourth goal. The game ended in a 4-2 win. The WSL team was sent home and Y/n felt bad as one of her USWNT teammates played for twenty minutes against her.

Salma and Y/n started to drift apart and the team started to question it. Aitana asked Y/n one day if things were okay, Y/n lied and said yes.

The Spanish girlfriend started to ditch her American girlfriend again. However, things were different this time. Y/n felt her heart go elsewhere as Salma abandoned her.

Over the month, Y/n engaged in everyday conversations with the Left-Back at Lyon. Selma and her had a few FaceTime calls and they're compatible in many ways.

Y/n started to question everything. She wanted to distance from Salma so she can figure out her feelings, but they're on the same team. At training, Salma found herself close with y/n so avoidance wasn't ideal. The American knew that she will see Selma in the Champions League final so she couldn't avoid her too.

In the quiet solitude of her plant and pink covered room, with the gentle hum of the Barcelona town outside her window, Y/n looked through her camera roll. She scrolled through her "Lover girl" album, which contained pictures of Salma and her together. Y/n felt her heart sink as she stopped at the last picture, clicking on the date to see that she didn't update the album since the night she caught Salma cheating on her with Cata.

Clicking off of the album, she went through her other folders to see many screenshots from her FaceTime calls with Selma Bacha. Y/n blushed as she saw Selma doing silly things on the calls, like (jokingly) getting angry over their Fifa games or making silly frowning faces .

Y/n's heart ached with the weight of indecision, torn between the familiar comfort of Salma and the extreme chemistry with Selma. Each possessed qualities that spoke to different parts of her soul, Salma with her history and shared memories, and Selma with her vibrant energy, admiration, and newfound connection.

As she wrestled with her thoughts, Y/n knew that the choice she made would shape the course of her future, a decision not just about love, but about her career and the kind of person she wanted to be.

Y/n exploded her bottled emotions onto her friend, Lindsey, from back home. Yes, Lindsey Horan from her International team that played for Lyon. The same Lindsey that knew Selma just as much as she knew Y/n.

"You know what they say. If there's two people in your life, pick the second one. Since there would've never been a second choice if you loved the first one enough." Lindsey said over the FaceTime. Yn laughed at how "corny" the saying is.

"I love Salma, Lindsey. However, I can't go on with this if I can't trust her." Y/n frowned.

"You shouldn't go on with her either if you want Selma involved with your future too. It sounds like Salma might leave you for Cata soon. No offense, I just need you to hear the truth before it happens..." Lindsey added on. Y/n took a deep breath, processing the blondes valid points.

"How do you know if Selma likes me?"

"Oh she likes you a lot. She's mentioned it to the team multiple times. Selma is just waiting on you to let Salma go." Lindsey confessed.

"I can't just break up with Salma. She'll move on to Cata and it'll break up the team's dynamics. It happened with a love triangle here before." Y/n explained, referring to the love triangle between Lucy Keira and Ona.

"Lyon is interested in you. Everyone involved in the transfer markets knows they want to activate your release clause. They just need your approval-- and maybe you can come here for a new start." Lindsey suggested. Y/n nodded at the possibility. She could leave Barcelona, leaving Cata and Salma to be together and she could be closer to Selma. Plus, Lyon is a big club like Barcelona so it's a good career move.

----

The tension hung heavy in the air as Barcelona squared off against Lyon in the electrifying Champions League final. The crowd's roars echoing like thunder in Y/n's ears as she stepped onto the field, her heart pounding in rhythm with the pulsating beat of the game.

At the first sight of Selma Bacha, y/n felt nervous. Nobody knew how she felt about her except for Lindsey, who is one of Lyon's midfielders currently. The Barcelona left winger took Lindsey’s suggestion into consideration and she has a few plans for her career after this final. 

During halftime, the game is 2-2. Caroline Graham Hansen scored a brace so far along with Becho having a brace for Lyon. The atmosphere is intense as there is another fourty-five minutes left. For Y/n, amidst the chaos of her thoughts, there lingered a deeper, more insidious feeling: guilt. 

She knew that she was breaking up with Salma after the season ended. Y/n never confronted Salma about seeing her talking to Cata secretly again before the match. The left-winger knows she is in the way of the two Spanish girls who want to be together. In consideration of her love for Salma, she decided that she will break up with her after the season ends rather than now. 

The girl wouldn't have to worry about the pre-season and the next season afterwards in Barcelona. Y/n talked with her agent and Lyon agreed to activate her release clause and will offer her a contract on the first day the transfer window opens in the summer. 

As the minutes ticked away and the score remained deadlocked, the pressure mounted, threatening to suffocate Y/n beneath its weight. Yes, she is facing her future club, but she is with Barcelona for now and wants to win with them for one last time. She had an energy driving her to push herself harder, to fight with every fiber of her being. When Salma scored a stunning goal in the 67th minute, by Y/n’s assist bringing the score up 3-2, the crowd exploded. 

Salma runs to the corner and celebrates with her usual “4 fingers'' symbol. Afterwards, she turns around and immediately holds her hands out to hug Y/n. The American sighed before smiling lightly, hugging her girlfriend tightly and pulled her face down on Salma’s shoulder. The news media and their shippers talk about this on social media, believing that they aren't broken up like rumors suspected. 

The girl inhaled Salma’s vanilla scent before looking into Salma’s eyes, pulling away before letting the rest of the team hug her. She frowned as she walked away, knowing that it might be the last time she will hug her soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. 

Y/n walks away towards the left side to see Selma, on the Lyon side, looking at her. The French player smirked before looking away, making the American girl blush. 

Selma had a feeling that Y/n will join her in Lyon after this season. The girl gave too many hints on their late night facetimes calls about “being able to see each other all of the time soon.” She knew Salma and Y/n were done, due to suspected cheating from the Spanish, so she didn’t feel badly about her flirtatious moves. 

Just when victory seemed within Barcelona’s grasp, fate intervened with a cruel twist of irony. Just two minutes after Salma’s goal for Barcelona, Lyon’s forward Diani passes the ball through the Barcelona box and Horan taps the ball into the net, right past Cata’s hands. 

The French crowd explodes as Horan runs to the corner of the box, yelling as she pumps her fist into the air in celebration. Y/n looks on at her USWNT captain, who looked so happy to score her goal with the Division 1 Feminine team. 

In the 85th minute, Ingrid Engen dribbled the ball up the field before seeing Aitana who was free to receive a pass. The ball goes up over the players before Aitana jumps up and hits it with her head. The ball flies up again before landing on Esmee’s boot. The Dutch “nutmegs” the ball through a Lyon defender before passing to Y/n. The American dribbles quickly through Selma Bacha before shooting the ball. As the ball goes through Endler’s legs, Y/n screams in excitement. Goal!

Barcelona 4-3

In the dying moments of the game, Selma's team managed to break through Barcelona’s defense, scoring a last-minute goal from Le Sommer that left Y/n reeling in disbelief. As the 90 minutes appeared on the watches on the referees wrists, 6 minutes of extra time were added to the board. 

4-4

Y/n looks over at her coach Jona, seeing that he wants the team to play defensively. A few minutes pass but it’s anyone's game. Y/n couldn’t break through the Lyon midfield when she had the ball a few times. 

She passes the ball down to Aitana, and the ballon d’or winner passes the ball down to Ingrid, who passes the ball back down to Cata who launches the ball across the field towards Claudia Pina.

Claudia and Selma both go up and try to head the ball towards a teammate. The Lyon player was successful and the ball landed on Horan’s boot. Y/n runs up to challenge the other American but Lindsey passes it to her striker before Y/n reaches her. 

Marta challenges Hegerburg who quickly dribbles around her. Ona goes to challenge the Lyon striker before pushing her inside of the penalty box, ruining the potential goal scoring opportunity. Almost all 22 players on the pitch ran to the ref, debating on the challenge as “just a foul” “tir de pénalité” “el desafío está fuera de la caja” and much more. The referee contacts the VAR room with their mini microphone before blowing the whistle. Lyon Penalty.  

Hegerburg, not injured by Ona’s contact, goes to take the penalty. Y/n felt her lungs close in as the crowd erupts in screams and whistles. She knew there was a minute left. If the Lyon striker makes the shot, Lyon wins the Champions League unless a miracle occurred. 

Y/n’s hands covered her face in disappointment as Hegerburg’s goal went behind the net. Cata moved to the left to block the shot when the hard shot went to the right. 

All of the Lyon players dressed in their Blue away jerseys ran to the corner and celebrated the penalty. The players on the bench even ran and screamed to celebrate the penalty. 

4-5

Not a single opportunity occurred for Barcelona before the final whistles blew. The scoreboard flashed 4-5 in favor of Selma's team. The Lyon players screamed as they all jumped on each other in joy. A wave of devastation washed over Y/n, the bitter taste of defeat staining her lips as she bit on them, trying not to cry in front of thousands of people. 

Yet, amidst the heartbreak and despair, there was a deeper wound that cut to the core of Y/n’s heart. At the moment, she stood alone on the pitch as other Barcelona players fell onto their knees in sadness, some clapped for their fans while having tears in their eyes, Ona ran away into the dressing room so she didn’t have to face the fans who were angry with her last minute mistake. 

At first, she thought about her girlfriend who is experiencing the loss too. She looked around to seek solace in Salma's embrace. She stood in the same spot with her hands on her hips as she continued to bite on her plump lips. 

What Y/n saw shattered her heart into a million pieces when she realized that Salma wasn’t looking for her. Instead, she watched in silent agony as Salma rushed to Cata's side. Cata sat on the grass and cried as Salma whispered affirmations in her ear. It looked so intimate. In that moment, as tears welled in Y/n's eyes and the weight of her loneliness, she knew that the scars of this defeat ran deeper than any she had ever known.

The American in the white away kit fell onto the grass and let all of her warm tears flow down her dimpled cheeks. She didn’t care who saw it and if pictures would be taken. Y/n’s suppressed feelings about her suspicions were confirmed. Salma chose Cata. In her worst moment, she wanted Cata’s comfort and not her own “girlfriend.” 

Y/n, in the back of her mind, knew that she was done with Salma. She couldn’t speak to her after this. She left her alone in the worst moment while she comforted the girl she committed infidelity with. 

The girl cried for a few minutes, feeling alone in this dark moment, before she felt the embrace of four arms around her body. She couldn’t see who it was, since she laid flat on the grass with her hands covering her face. 

“Y/n, You did amazing out there!” The American in the Barcelona jersey heard the voice of her USWNT captain, Lindsey. 

“No I didn’t” Y/n complained, ignoring her beautiful goal and two assists she made during the match.

“Y/n don’t speak about yourself like that. Shit you’re a good opponent!” Y/n froze and her tears seemed to stop flowing when she heard a familiar french accent. 

Y/n sat up from the grass, wiping her grass covered knees as Lindsey sat beside her. She turned and looked at Selma, this being their first interaction outside of the game, who wiped her tears with her thumbs. Selma patted Y/n’s puffy face afterwards before sitting right beside her, leaving no space. 

“I hope so.” Y/n replied a few seconds after Selma spoke last. 

“Congratulations guys.” Y/n continued as she looked back and forth between her friend and the girl who is more than a friend. 

“Thank you. You were kicking our ass for a good half.” Selma laughed, she wrapped her arm around Y/n’s lower back as the Barcelona player moved her head to Selma’s shoulder. Y/n laughed in response. 

“No literally. I can’t wait to see that when I play with you this summer.” Lindsey agreed. Y/n smiled in reminder of making it on the USWNT olympic roster with her. 

“You guys shouldn’t waste your time comforting me. Go celebrate!” Y/n laughed through her dry tears and pointed towards the Lyon teammates who were currently celebrating. She looked around to see Esmee, her best friend at Barcelona, being comforted by some of her Oranje teammates that played for Lyon which made her smile. Y/n knows she will miss her the most when she leaves.

“Who said we are wasting time? The celebration and trophy setup isn't ready for another ten minutes. We have time to be here for you— and we want to be here with you” Selma held Y/n tighter. 

Despite her own triumph, Selma's concern was solely for Y/n, offering a comforting embrace that felt similar to medicine curing a cold. In that moment, as Y/n leaned into Selma's embrace, she felt her heart soften, her realization being proven stronger with this moment. It was Selma who was there for her, Selma who offered solace and understanding, Selma who held the key to her heart for the last few months. The left-winger’s heart chooses Selma and will move to play for Lyon. 

The media picked up on Salma and Y/n going to comfort other people after the game, which caused their fans to explode in speculation. When pictures of Selma Bacha holding Y/n L/n came out in the media, Lyon and Barcelona fans were shocked before being supportive. When Salma and Cata hard-launched their relationship, fans were shocked too.

The girls never confirmed their breakup publicly, even though Y/n and Salma mutually broke up after the Champions League final. However, they both publicly moved onto their new girlfriends and Y/n moved away to play for the Lyon team, enjoying her new life with Selma Bacha.

an: hope you enjoyed! I'm sad that the barcelona men's team lost the quarter final of the champion's league 😣

[lttawnymadison]

TGCF Revised Version Afterword by MXTX

Since I kept seeing snippets of this, I wanted to read the whole thing for myself. I'd already bought the book on JJWXC and did an MTL for this. It's so wonderful that she's back and sharing new things and that the revised is finally done! - Tawny --------------------------------------------- The author has something to say:

Seeing the small red clay stove again.

———— Afterword of "Heaven Official's Blessing" 2022

■ Finally done!

Long time no see! It's another afterword starting with "finally." Without further ado, seasoned readers would know that I make substantial revisions. For instance, scenes like the Bai Feng Mountain Hunt and the ending recognition of Sizhui in the serial version of "Mo Dao Zu Shi" were not originally there.

The revisions in "Heaven Official's Blessing" are the most extensive of all my works. It was a huge project, as it is also the longest in terms of length, serialized over eight months. Due to poor health and other reasons, the revision process was interrupted for a long time before I picked it up again, and it sporadically took about five to six months over several years.

In the era of web novels, there are endless new entertainments, and honestly, not many people re-read a story. Plus, some problems in the serialized version are structural and can't be changed, but I still tried my best to address my regrets. After all, when I was serializing it, I was almost always in a feverish and sick state, barely pushing through. Additionally, I often enjoy comparing different versions of my favorite authors' works back and forth, finding pleasure in the process. So, for readers, discovering "Wow, this part has changed!" is like starting a new journey with Easter eggs in a second round.

■ The new revised version includes about 100,000 words of new content!

These 100k words are mainly concentrated in the latter half of Volume 1 and Volume 3, but there are plenty scattered throughout the text. For example, I fulfilled a promise to A-Hua, giving him several new outfits. Seeing A-Hua dressed beautifully in a new hairstyle to meet his gege made me happy.

In terms of the intensity of revisions, personally, I feel it goes like this:

Volume 1 and Volume 2 > Volume 3 > Volume 5 > Volume 4.

Additionally, the new version cuts some redundant words and plots that weren't very meaningful. However, I tried to keep all the original interactions between Hua Lian as complete as possible. If some minor interactions are missing, they weren't deleted but moved around.

■ One day, I suddenly dug out something.

An antique from 2017, a folder called "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection."

Curiously, I opened it and read with interest.

● Comparing the original setting outline and the main text, the highest fidelity is in the main storyline between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian.

A-Hua, restored at a ratio of 1:100.

Hua's character setting is the most detailed, and virtually every point made it into the main text, including details like "ghosts don't like the sun, so Hua Cheng sometimes drapes a red cloth over his head"...

Points not used, listed a few:

As a child:

· After being saved from falling off a city wall, he foolishly followed a parade over and over again, grabbing people to ask, "Who is that? Who is that person?" People told him, "That's the royal son, the future Celestial God, the most outstanding Crown Prince of Xianle Nation ever!"

(This point couldn't be used because in the text A-Hua was held in the Crown Prince's arms after being saved)

· At home, he was often punished to stand or kneel, not given food, and wore old clothes, accused of stealing money. Whenever he argued with his family, he would stubbornly sleep in the Prince's temple overnight.

· Went to Mount Tai Cang to volunteer sweeping red leaves at Huangji Observatory, just to sneak peeks at his future wife happily swinging.

After becoming the ghost king:

· One of his hobbies is buying and building houses everywhere.

· Very protective of his leather boots, would (badly) polish them until they shone.

· To other devout followers of Xie Lian, he said: "You have good taste."

· Secretly prepared many betrothal gifts for his beloved god, wanting to marry him!

The character setting of Xie Lian as a teacher in the serialized version compared to the initial draft, the serialized text subtly differs. The initial draft was more... exquisite and elegant, very serious. The serialized text is more... humorous. I think perhaps because some plot points were tragic, Xie Lian thought he should be happier to make the readers more relaxed, so he drove me to adjust his mental state! But due to the spiritual oppression at that time, the character's depth was not enough, while in the new revised version, I hope he can show a more self-content state on the same core basis.

Excerpts from the unused original setting:

· Super easy-going. Easy-going means: if given fifty bucks, he would happily dress in drag and dance. Accepts haggling. Thirty bucks works. Twenty bucks too!

· The observatory is small, the house is broken, wants to grow flowers. Leaks during rain, so he uses a bucket to catch rainwater.

· Because he can't afford a caretaker, he cleans himself, and also feeds chickens. Chickens eat flowers. Keeps a cat.

· Completely engrossed in discussing serious matters, he unknowingly finished all the broken sweet dumplings!

● Water, Earth, Wind original setting:

The highest fidelity is the main line between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, followed by the Water, Earth, Wind subplot.

The main conflict hasn't changed. Just... how could the original setting of Water, Earth, Wind be so dark and terrifying!

The character morals in the main text improved a lot, otherwise, the original Black Water would be sheer scheming + murderous! The ending for the Wind Master would have been more tragic.

The Venerable of Empty Words suddenly became an improvised character. It seemed like an ancient fable-like monster, making the main text more interesting than the original setting.

Overall, the formal version is a bit better written than the original draft.

● The unfortunate life of Lang Ying:

Lang Ying? Is there such a character? I don't remember!

Ah? It seems there was such a person, but I don't remember any of his plotlines.

This is most people's feeling towards the character of Lang Ying. It's not a delusion because he barely had any significant plot. In fact, any valuable scenes could have been replaced equivalently, so in the new revised version, I deleted this character.

But, in the 2017 setting collection, I suddenly found that I had actually opened a separate document for Lang Ying, and his role was defined as a "growing-type BOSS!"

I was silent.

And immediately opened the document, curious about my initial setting. A "growing-type BOSS," how did he become someone whose deletion went unnoticed...? (I even don't know how to address him!)

Who knows, perhaps out of excitement, I accidentally pressed the wrong shortcut, and somehow it became irreversible, leaving only an empty document for me to stare in disbelief. The once "growing-type BOSS" has now forever become a mystery!

This is the unfortunate life of the deleted Lang Ying.

· There was another document in the setting collection called "Swordsmith." I opened the document and read it with interest.

I was shocked. Because I completely forgot I had conceived this story. Why didn't I write it?!

Darn.

I know why I didn't write it. This story... it had no ending!

——————— Thus, the magical glimpse into the "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection" concludes!

■ I like men with stories!

Maybe because I watched an outstanding work as a child. It was a memoir, the protagonist in the biography was gentle and affable, and the protagonist in the memories was cold and ruthless. The story was scattered with the poignant fragrance of white plum blossoms amidst bloody and stormy circumstances.

This almost perfect work deeply influenced my aesthetics, leading me to be most interested in the memory parts of characters in various works. Although many viewers prefer the present scenes, often asking when the memories will end, I actually find these intense and painful memories to be the most fascinating!

A story is the history of a character, as well as the key to their personality. A person with a story stands before me like a puzzle. The way to solve this puzzle is to understand their story. Because the biography makes one curious to know more about a character they like, loving them more now because of their past. When serializing "Heaven Official," my greatest pain initially was telling myself, "This time I don't want to write a memory slaughter," deliberately trying to avoid a structure similar to previous works, yet I still hadn't found a better way to express it, resulting in my deep dissatisfaction with the later part of Volume 1. I was also hesitant to fully commit to the memory scenes in Volume 2, and with the heavy mental burden, this part was very painful to write. When revising, looking at Volume 2 was almost unbearable, because I'm the type of person who, as a child, would immediately switch channels when a TV show's protagonist was about to be wrongfully accused or embarrassed. I couldn't help but knock on a friend's door and ask:

Me: Was the author suffering some kind of mental trauma at the time? This negative energy is too horrifying, the protagonist is so pitiful, I really admire anyone who could read through Volume 2 completely.

Friend: Do you even have the right to say that?

But the memory slaughter in Volume 4 was much freer, written in one breath, so the revisions for this volume were also the least.

So, will you still write large segments of memory slaughter?

Um, well, we'll see, haha, hehe...

■ Closing Remarks:

Lastly, I'll address the question some asked me, "Will the new revised 'Heaven Official's Blessing' be more torturous?"

Me: You're talking nonsense. 'Heaven Official's Blessing' is a sweet pampering story, thank you!

Acknowledgments:

Shi Nai'an wrote in the preface to "Water Margin": "On snowy nights, about five or six people listen to my storytelling; on rainy days, about seven or eight; on bright and sunny days, about ten. I read, everyone listens, and we are all happy, with no other thoughts." When I read this as a young person, I was delighted. What divine days! Writing first to entertain oneself, then to entertain others. Self-expression and self-acceptance are certainly primary, but the affection of others is also a significant positive feedback. Thus, first, I thank the steadfast readers who have accompanied me all this time. I've thought about just walking away amidst the noisy disputes; abandoning the account amidst the tumultuous world! It seems not bad. But looking back, I can't bear to leave some truly sincere readers.

I've had authors I liked disappear from the internet, and I always feel like a part of my youth has vanished, a feeling quite distressing, reminiscent of overly grand and harsh things like the tears of the era or the torrent of history. So, I want to accompany my readers as long as possible, hoping that the day of parting comes later. Perhaps I'm not good enough now, but I will strive to be better in the future. Or perhaps you've never truly understood what kind of person I am, or even completely misunderstood me, but as long as you genuinely like my stories, we can sit down and chat.

And, I must mention my friends, who can be described as having the courage of a hero. Long time no see, Teacher Changyang's illustrations are still as beautiful as those of a celestial being, I hope Teacher CAS can go to bed earlier and worry less, and Teacher Kuohao, who despite a heavy workload, still fully honored our agreement. The "Heaven Official's Blessing" radio drama is really fantastic! It reminded me of the original intention of writing this story, and I was very moved. If it weren't for the silent companionship and efforts of these old friends, Mo Xiang Tong Xiu might have stopped writing back in 2016, disappearing from the world of martial arts, and thus, "Heaven Official's Blessing" would not have been born. I look forward to retracing the paths we once walked together when gathering ideas. And many friends who reached out to help and encourage me, thank you for accompanying me through the snowy nights.

[namelessdumbass]

Rite Here Rite Now

It was amazing and funny. Copia girlies and boys fucking won!

I expected different outcome, tbh. Tobias managed to surprise me and also made me a tiny bit sad (reasons will be explained in the spoilers below).

The film consists of like 95% of concert footage and 5% of off stage/plot stuff. The quality of sound and editing is just 🤌 I expected the live of Twenties to be good and gosh Ghost delivered. And Mummy Dust...Tobias let Mary Goore out! But i honestly prefer Terzo's version (CaD) better. Sorry not sorry haha. Ghouls/Ghoulettes footage. Everyone who loves them will be very veeeery well fed!

Dance Macabre live...i was'nt wrong when i called it a satanic gay party 😁

The movie is worth watching and i do hope Ghost releases it as soon as possible for all those who were not able to go.

The spoiler free review ends here. Don't read further if you don't want to spoil it for yourself. And please, don't copy them and paste it everywhere for the sake of ruining other people's fun! Seriously, don't fucking do that!

If you accidently clicked here, don't worry! spoilers will be below and you still have a chance to avoid them :)

Alriiiiight:

Movie starts with Saltarian who tells fans to record for the first 2 minutes, to show how happy they are etc and posted a qr code for fans to upload those recordings. I guess it will be put up on RHRN website. We'll see. There were also photos of fans who attended LA ritual. I fucking loved the person who showed up in a giant Plushia suit. I LOLed! Then fans were asked to put down the phones and enjoy the movie. The beginning was narrated Star Wars kinda style (a little bit) with the small recap of the chapters and about Copia's worries that he might die. And yes, it literally began in space lol. The movie is basically is like what we saw in small snippets Ghost posted earlier. Plot mixed with a really good show.

And the plot: -Short footage of Copia and Ghouls arriving. ALmost the whole set was the same as any other concert from Re-Imperatour + a few awesome exceptions. -Dews does that annoying thing with guitar, Rain stops him, takes his pick and throws it into the crowd and Dew...he freaking showed him YouSuck sticker on the backside of his guitar. Peak Dew moment! -Copia asked the right question about the Clery. He also does not quite understand what it does, why and where it goes. I suppose Tobias decided to thicken the Ghost lore a bit and will have more clarity in the nearest future. -Remember when Copia jumped at the end of the Watcher in the Sky? He ended up in one of those stage boxes (for equipment or something) and is taken to the stage B. While he's carried to it by Kevin he has a chat with Nihil's ghost. Nihil says he recorded not 2, but 3 songs. That probably means that we'll hear a new one. (UPD: the new song we heard during the credits, "The Future is a Foreign Land" is Nihil's 3rd song! Confirmed by Tobias himself in a new interview). He also tells Copia to breath in deep and then farts. -On the Stage B Copia sings "If You Have Ghosts". 3 Ghoulettes played piano and violins and the 4th one did the haunting ghost-like opera vocals. It was beatiful. Copia kissed her hand. -He then wore boxing robe and went next to crowd. Almost the whole scene was shown in the trailer. -Btw, remember that silly moment when Nihil's eyes were crossing? Well, Kevin was also included in that staring contest. -Twenties live. The skeletons, the performance and one of those skeletons who crawled between Dew's legs...that's hot. -Nihil calls Copia "son". Copia calls Nihil "Dad". Cardi will insult him later, don't worry. -Nihil/Seestor cartoon during MOAC. Yes, that's when Sis hit him with the car. Basically it's what happens after "Kiss the Go Goat" mv. Sister leaves and Nihil runs after her. "I'll never let you go". They end up kissing in a coffin on a graveyard , later Nihil wakes up naked in a bed in a motel and we see Sister leave. -There was a moment in a movie when we see Ashley (stage crew) bring Copia a new pair of shoes and put the on on his feet. Tobias, goddammit what the hell was that? :D -Seestor was a in wheelchair all the time -She and Nihil encouraged Copia throughout the whole movie and gave him a piece of advice. -About the baloon from the poster. Copia flies on it after finishing the set...or he imagined that because a few moments later after Nihil/Seestor flashbacks he ends up on the floor and watches Seestor die. All of the Ghouls and Ghoulettes also stood right next to her. -Copia has a twin brother -Copia didn't die and became the head the Clergy (Father Imperator or something like this). He found out about his new position from a letter Seestor left for him. -New song during credits (credits show dictators, assassinations, wars and the use of nuclear war). Years 1984 and 2024 mentioned. The song is not heavy. -Ghouls/Ghoulettes real names mentioned in the credits -Funny post credit scene with Copia. He had no piant on and had a new cool drip (with black jacket and red and black cross). Seestor is also a Ghost now. Tobia's children cameo. They're also Ghosts. -Papa V is teased the same way Copia was teased in a chapter 1. They even used the same music (Pro Memoria). No face reveal. Either he will be revealed in new Chapters or at some point during the new tour???

-aaaand my biggest disappointment: no footage of Primo, Secondo and Terzo. Literally ZERO.

I mean, Nihil is a Ghost, Seestor also became a Ghost, even Tobias' children made a cameo as Ghosts, but nothing for previous Papas? Really?! The same could have been done for them, but i guess Tobias doesn't care about them anymore :( And it hurts. I know that's my fault that i had so many expectations and hopes, but holy shit :( As a newbie who never saw previous Papas, i'm so sad i'll never get a chance to see them and there won't be any new footage of them. Being Terzo widow is so hard. Guess that's why i'm a bit salty Copia lives (sorry, guys, i like him, but i also hate him haha)

And yes, as it turned out the twins theory from Square Hammer was true...but not for Terzo 😭

I enjoyed the movie nevertheless. It's fun and kinda gives you an opportunity to see the band "live" if you've never been to a ritual before. And yes, the movies was'nt just about Papa IV and his fate, i believe it was also Tobias' message for us to enjoy the life rite here rite now! As i said, Copia's girlies and boys truly fucking won. Congrats, lads, your Papa lives and will live! I bet that feels amazing. Thanks for reading! P.S. since you know the plot, don't spoil it for the others please.

[pedropascallme]

I’ll Always Come Back

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader; no use of y/n

Summary: “The bed in the house you shared wasn’t all that large, but without Joel in it you felt completely dwarfed. It was like the mattress was swallowing you whole without Joel to anchor you to his broad shoulders and wide chest.”

Warnings: Smut (18+ MINORS DNI), dom/sub dynamics (dom!Joel x sub!Reader), fingering, oral (M & F receiving), p in v sex, praise kink, daddy kink. If I missed anything please let me know!

~~~

Summer in Jackson was a mixed bag. On the one hand, the warm weather made it much more encouraging to tend to your day-to-day activities; you could clean up around the house, sing along to the radio Joel had fixed up while you rearranged the cabin you had been gifted. You could go out and mingle without the need to put on layers and layers of clothing. And the plants—God, the plants! Things were growing, summer meant fresh greens and tending to your little plot of garden.

On the other hand, summer in Jackson meant extended patrols; the warm weather encouraged raiders to branch out further, to attempt riskier and riskier maneuvers. You never felt scared, why should stuff like that scare you after everything you had been through with Joel and Ellie? But what did get to you was the fact that Joel’s patrols were getting longer as the warm June days arrived.

Ultimately, things weren’t much different. You and Ellie and Joel still had time together and time apart, but it drove you nearly insane when you had to get into bed without him, wake up without him. The bed in the house you shared wasn’t all that large, but without Joel in it you felt completely dwarfed. It was like the mattress was swallowing you whole without Joel to anchor you to his broad shoulders and wide chest.  

Today had consisted of next to nothing. Ellie had shouted at you while you were still half asleep, saying something along the lines of “Dina” and “movie night” and “back tomorrow, maybe!” You had offered a lazy “mmff” in response. And then you heard the door slam. You tried your best to spend the day doing something—anything—productive. Go for a walk, clean the kitchen, weed the garden. In the end, though, you had found yourself letting yet another day slip by completely wasted. Maybe not completely: You had found the copy of The Catcher in the Rye that you had picked up somewhere along your journey with Joel and Ellie.

You remembered how much you had loved the cover when you first read the book—you must’ve been 14 or 15, if even. The red carousel horse that looked so…messy and unhinged. That might’ve been what initially drew you to the book in the first place, not to judge a book by its cover or anything, but it just looked so promising. When you reread it, you found yourself comparing Holden Caulfield to one Joel Miller; the character’s intensity, his need to isolate himself in order to protect himself and everybody else, his crippling losses. It was all Joel. So maybe, in the back of your mind, you had really just started skimming through it today to remind yourself of the growth you had seen Joel go through in your time together. He was so closed off, so hesitant when you had first joined him and Ellie. Of course, the biggest difference between the real life and the literary was Joel’s ability to grow, to open up and remember how to feel; Holden never really got that sort of closure.

After hours and hours of reading and reminiscing, the sun had finally started to go down. You prepared yourself for another night alone in the house. You were happy Ellie had the ability to go out and spend her time with people she loved, but when Joel was out for so long, you couldn’t help but feel jealous. Jealous and lonely. But you were a big girl, and you could handle it. Even if you hated it. You changed out of your denim shorts and took off the tank top that was now fairly sweaty, opting to sleep naked. Might as well if nobody is going to see you, anyway. You curled up under the bedsheet, not bothering to sleep under the comforter, it was entirely too hot for that. You fell asleep far quicker than anticipated.

You woke with a start when you felt a hand wrap around your midriff, a voice in your ear drawling “g’night, darlin’.” Dazed, you turned yourself over to face the direction of the voice.

Joel was home.

Nothing could’ve snapped you out of your groggy state faster than the excitement of seeing him again after so long. Really, it hadn’t been long at all, but it was always such a relief having him back next to you. You clung to him, reacquainting yourself with his smell and the feel of him. Just as quickly, though, you pushed yourself up and off of him.

“You’re dirty.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” He pulled you back down to him, caging you in with his arms. “Don’t’cha like dirty, baby?” He laughed while you tried to wriggle yourself out of his hold.

“Like it when it’s how you’re acting, not when you’re literally caked in dirt.” You faked outrage, hitting his chest softly.

“C’mon, know you like seein’ me this way.”

And he was right, obviously. You loved seeing his hair pushed back with sweat, feeling his calloused hands against your bare back, tracing his collarbones and feeling the gravelly remnants of dirt.

“You had a good patrol, then?” You asked, finally letting yourself fall atop him, truly not caring about the dirt and sweat.

“It was alright. Uneventful. Fuckin’ hot out there, though.”

“Maybe it’s time to start wearing shorts, cowboy.”

“Yeah, that’s what everybody wants to see. My old man knees shinin’ out in the sun.”

You giggled. He traced his hands down your naked body, letting himself feel every dimple and curve.

“You got th’right idea. Nothin’ like comin’ in from the heat to see my baby stripped down for me. Should probably start doin’ the same whenever I can.” He squeezed your ass roughly, forcing a moan from your lips.

“C-can’t just walk around the commune naked, Joel. At least put some rips in your pants.”

“Mm, why walk around the commune in jeans when I could strip down with you at home, darlin’?” He delivered a smack to your ass, making you gasp. “Could just stay here all day ‘nd play with you. Make me sweat, keep me cool.” He quirked an eyebrow, tongue wetting his bottom lip before he brought your face to his with both his hands.

He tasted perfect, like the cigarettes he and Tommy swore they weren’t smoking, like whiskey, like mint, like black coffee. He licked at your bottom lip, encouraging you to open your mouth and let his tongue in. You felt him sweep the inside of your mouth, spit mingling and teeth clacking together as the kiss intensified. Without separating himself from you, Joel sat up, grabbing you by the hair and biting your bottom lip.

“Gonna be good f’me?” He still had you by the hair as he started to undo his belt. “Gonna show daddy what you missed so much while I was gone?”

“Wanna show you, please Joel.”

He pulled your hair tighter into his fist, and you let out a high pitched sound.

“You can do better than that, baby. Try again.”

“Please daddy, I wanna show you what I missed!”

“Atta girl.”

He pulled his belt from the loops on his jeans in one swift motion, undoing his button and fly just as fast. You could see the bulge that had grown in his jeans, and your mouth watered at the sight.

“You wanna be good?” Joel pulled your head back so that you were looking into his eyes. “You gotta work for what you want, baby. You know that.” He laughed when your hands flew to his crotch, shoving the denim down his hips and doing the same to the boxers he was wearing. You took his hard length in your hands; no matter how long you had been together, no matter how many times he let you have it, you were consistently amazed by how big he was. He was long, thick, heavy in your hands, and it just spurred you on further to show him how good you could be.

“Spit.” He still had a fist in your hair, and he held you above the tip of his cock. You did as you were told, letting your spit drip from his tip, down his shaft. He made you repeat the action once more before letting you move your hands.

“Good girl, jerkin’ daddy off so good.” He groaned when you dropped a hand to his balls, your other hand working his full length. His back arched slightly when you gave his balls a squeeze, moving your hand to focus on the head of his cock. He released you from his grip.

“Open your mouth, baby, give your daddy a show, huh?” You jumped at the chance, shuffling down his body and lowering your face between his hips. You kept one hand working up and down his shaft and took as much as you could in your mouth, flicking your tongue against his most sensitive spots.

“Fuck, good girl. Gonna make me cum if you keep going like that. Fuck!” You took his rambling as an opportunity to take as much of him as you could down your throat. Suddenly, his hand was back in your hair, pulling you off of him. A string of your saliva kept you connected to his cock, dripping from your puffy lips.

Joel brought your face back up to his, catching you in a heated kiss. You felt him bite your bottom lip, your own tongue tasting the inside of his mouth. He broke away for just long enough to flip you onto your back. He stood over you, pulling his jeans off completely and staring down at you hungrily.

“Y’out here sayin’ you don’t like dirty. You got such a mouth on you, baby, y’know it’s not good to go ‘round lyin’.” He pulled you towards him by your ankles, letting your legs fall over the edge of the bed before he kneeled in front of you and hiked them up on his shoulders. “See how I know you were lyin’?” He wasted no time showing you, pushing a thick finger into your cunt. “Drippin’ baby, fuckin’ soaked. S’all for daddy, isn’t it, sweetheart?” You moaned at the sudden intrusion. Just one of Joel’s fingers was enough to make you lose control completely. He twisted it inside you, pumping in and out slowly.

“Tell me it’s for daddy.”

“I—it’s all for, it’s all f—for daddy!” You gasped when you felt another one of his fingers exploring your slit, using your wet to force itself in beside his other finger.

“S’what I thought.” He curled his fingers, bringing his mouth down to your clit and sucking hard. You let out a scream of his name. He only sucked harder, letting the bundle of nerves go with a pop.

“Cum on my fingers, baby. C’mon now, give it to me.” You felt his fingers, still curled, start rubbing against the spongy spot inside of you. Your walls began to clench around his fingers, his mouth once again finding a pace on your clit. You came around his fingers with a jumbled mixture of gasps and screams, barely registering how he talked you through it.

“Good fuckin’ girl, that’s it. Yeah, show daddy what a good girl you are.” Joel placed another kiss on your clit, slowly slipping his fingers out of you. Though your mind was still foggy from the orgasm he had just given you, you whined at the sudden emptiness. When he stood above you again, you reached your arms up for him. He smiled down at you, bending over to kiss your forehead and then your lips.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, not done yet.” He straightened himself out a little, placing a knee on the bed next to you. You reached out to brush your fingers over his thigh. God, he was so muscular. You suppose, for all the walking he did, he should be, but still. Your legs were once again over his shoulders, now above you as he loomed over your naked figure. He took his cock in his hand, stroking himself as he lined himself up with your still dripping slit.

“Daddy’s gonna give you more baby, don’t worry.” You felt the tip of his cock nudge your clit before he lowered himself into your pussy. You both groaned at the contact; the squeeze of your cunt around his thick cock felt like heaven for each of you.

Once fully inside of you, Joel dropped the leg that had bed resting on the bed back to the ground, and pressed his body to yours, chest to chest. He pulled out till just his head was still resting in your pussy, before snapping his hips forward, shoving himself completely back into you, punching the air from your lungs.

“Missed this pussy,” he breathed out shakily, keeping a harsh pace, “missed feelin’ your tight fuckin’ cunt wrap around me like this.”

“Missed you so much, missed daddy’s cock—fuck!” He had your arms above your head now, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples and slowing his strokes slightly, continuing to fuck you deep. You rubbed your hips into his own, desperate for as much friction as you could get. He felt you bucking your hips, laughing at your desperation.

“Poor lil’ baby, such a needy fuckin’ pussy.”

“Dadd—y, need it!”

“Watch your mouth, darlin’, I’m givin’ it to you, ain’t I? Remember who you’re speakin’ to,” he sped up his thrusts, making your tits bounce while you lay back taking it. “Need some fuckin’ manners, baby.”

“I—fuck!—Please daddy, need to cu—m on your cock. Please!” You were begging, he had you exactly where he wanted you. Fucked out and messy, your hair sticking to your forehead and your slick dripping down his cock to your thighs. He loved when you got desperate. Fuck, he had missed you. He had been gone two, maybe three days, and all he could think about was coming home to you. One of his hands came down between your legs, fingers attaching to your clit. You arched your back, moaning, inviting him to touch you where you needed him most. He massaged your bud in tight, neat circles, his fingers moving faster than his thrusts.

He was fucking merciless.

“Can feel that pussy getting’ tighter on me. Y’gonna cum for me again, baby? Gonna cover daddy’s cock in your pretty fuckin’ juices?” His thrusts were beginning to speed up, and within a few more seconds of him fucking you senseless and talking you up (“Good girl, good girl gonna soak daddy’s big cock. That’s right, beautiful, make a fuckin’ mess on me.”) you were cumming hard around him. You grabbed at him, pulling him down onto you while he continued to push his cock deeper into you.

“That’s right, my fuckin’ girl. So good baby, tha’s it.” You scratched your nails down his back, legs shaking as you wrapped them around him. His thrusts became sloppy, nearing his high. You took it upon yourself to gain back a teeny bit of control.

“Cum, daddy, please. Want you to fill me up, want daddy’s cum.” He growled in your ear, fucking into you harder.

“Yeah? Want daddy to full this cunt with my fuckin’ load, baby?”

“Please, yes please,” you begged, still trembling from your own high.

“Gonna give it to you, sweetheart, gonna—shit, gonna fill you up so nice and deep—” He cut himself off with a deep thrust and a loud groan. You felt the warm spurts of his cum deep inside you, moaning at the sensation. He moaned, dropping himself down onto you. You stayed like that for as long as you could; his cock softening inside you, his full body weight pressing you into the springs of the old mattress, your breathing heavy. It was perfect.

“I missed you so much,” Joel panted out, still catching his breath. “M’sorry for comin’ home dirty. ‘Nd late.” He pushed himself up off of you, now mostly-soft cock sliding out of you, turning to lie on his back. You crawled up to him, lying on your side as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You could feel his cum and yours dripping down the curve of your thigh and onto the mattress.

“You know I don’t mind. I know you’re out there keeping us all safe. You’re good at it.” You kissed his jawline. “Plus, means I get to welcome you back like this.” He smiled, letting you continue trailing kisses wherever you could reach.

“Just hate leavin’ you.”

“I know you’ll always come back home to me.”

He looked down at you, still smiling. You’ll never get used to seeing Joel Miller smile, but you’ll always love how he looked doing it. He kissed your forehead, pushing the hair out of your face before taking your chin in his hand and leaning you up to kiss him.

“I’ll always come back.”

[dunmeshistash]

Re: How Dungeons Work

While scolding Laios and Marcille, Flamela mentions that the Canaries would need to prepare a replacement Lord if Marcille wanted to step down. The Lion also mentions falling into the Canaries' hands, and after it is defeated the Queen seems to lament that the Magic/Spell That Grants Any Wish has been lost.

Maybe the Elves were using Dungeons to do something after all?

I find it interesting that the Queen's remark can be read as referring to the Demon itself as a kind of spell, almost like a construct or AI. Thoughts on that?

Lastly, the Ancients built the Dungeons as a counter to the demon's consumption of desires. Do you think they succeeded? Is there a way to use them safely? After all, the Ancients were destroyed by a wish/their own will, not by the demon's agency. Maybe they and maybe even modern Elves know how to act as Lord without getting eaten at all? It seems technically feasible from what we see, Thistle just sealed it away too late.

Hello!

Going by each question

I think they would need a replacement specifically in Marcille's case since she wants to step down, they cant move her to the surface because the dungeon is already spilling out. I imagine the subistitute lord is a temporary solution to remove Marcille from the Dungeon (someone with less destructive wishes)

I don't think the elves are doing anything with the dungeon from their track record, since they collapse dungeons, what Kabru dislikes is how they go about it (with no regard for other's), Utaya is an example of just how destructive Dungeons can be. (The canary plans are always to collapse dungeons and there's no hint about it being anything else is there?)

The queen is a weirdo, but to me the way she talks about it sounds more like a relief "'The spell that grants any wish' has been lost. there is time" as in that is no longer an impending danger for their world? EHScans even translates it as "we have the luxury of time"

In the world there's also no difference between the demon and magic itself, as we learn in chapter 87 the demon is magic given personality so she's not wrong to call him that.

I think the ancients succeeded in the sense that they managed to seal the demon inside dungeons, but they had the plot lost from the start, having all you wish for granted goes against being a living being, craving and wishing is part of living so it was doomed to fail as it did. The demon also doesn't understand ofc

As I said it goes against being human so I don't think it's possible at all to use the demon, you would end up just like the ancients wishing for everyone to die, the best example of why this would never work Kui gives us is the tale Laios tells in the nightmare monster tidbits

"One tires of happiness quickly, but tragedy is bottomless. Seeking further stimulation, it must be that the human heart compels the nightmares to create bad dreams"

The future the Demon wanted granting everyone's wishes would have probably also ended up in a living hell for them.

Also I don't think Thistle 'sealed him away too late', he kept deteriorating even after locking up the demon it seems. Marcille suffers from it too even after sealing him.

hope these answers helped!

[gildalilli]

i think about my rant to @starofhisheart (T) often about how the ineffable bureaucracy plot felt sudden and how it got me on board with a bit more angst and yearning for our boys before we get an eventual happy ending. Copied from my messages to our group chat:

ME: Maybe it's because it's too obvious, but I haven't seen enough people in the fandom talking about how ineffable bureaucracy becoming canon is a demonstration to the fans of why what we want for the husbands is romantic, but not satisfying or a Good Idea in practise.

My first point, which I've been thinking ever since it happened, is how.... unsatisfying it was that they just got together?

Like they were just suddenly very in love and ran off together without the same tension they had in season 1. There was no irony, no pining, no wrestling with dilemmas. Neil just ticked it off the list like "See how it feels when a romance is just handed to you with no further plot? There were 2 beings, they fell in love and went away and lived happily ever after. Great, cool. You want to feel this way about our boys? Or do you want me to give you something you can actually sink your teeth into to make the getting together delicious?"

And point 2: they were a demonstration that Crowley's plan, which is always to run away, does not work. It, in fact, is selfish and fucks up everyone else's lives. Two powerful political figures jilted their positions, leaving everyone else in the lurch. The breakup happened BECAUSE GABRIEL LEFT AND HEAVEN NEEDED SOMEONE ELSE TO MANIPULATE! Demons attacked and started threatening partially because there was no Beez to oversee anything! And it was our boys who were left to pick up the pieces because those two decided to RuN aWaY tOgEtHeR

T: Yes!!! That makes so much sense!

ME: This whole plot was like Neil holding up a big neon sign saying TRUST ME THIS IS NOT WHAT YOU WANT.

T, perfectly saying in a sentence what I took paragraphs to get out: They were a cautionary tale; a "what could have happened if Aziraphale had taken Crowley's offer of Alpha Centauri." I mean, sure, the circumstances were different but the result wouldn't have been a satisfying conclusion to the story.

[writingquestionsanswered]

I usually gravitate to reading more fantasy and sci-fi stories, but recently I've been watching some slice-of-life animes and some drama movies that are not really depressing, just not comedy nor romance and it's really been captivating me and I want to write something in this style. Do you have tips on how to come up to a story idea set in "real life" that doesn't include romance, doesn't try to make you laugh all the time like if I was a comedian and have conflict that is not sad all along?

Coming Up with a Slice-of-Life Plot

Slice-of-life stories are all about exploring the beauty of everyday human experiences, so the key to creating a compelling slice-of-life plot is to know what experiences you want to explore and figure out some themes that will help you do that. Some common slice-of-life themes include things like personal growth, platonic relationships, family dynamics, the challenges of daily life, cultural identity, and belonging to a community.

Once you've determined the everyday human experience you want to explore, and have found the themes you want to explore them through, you can start to come up with related experiences your character might have that match those themes. So, for example, let's say a human experience you want to explore is what it's like to start a new job. Some themes that could go with that would be co-worker dynamics, personal growth, and perhaps even cultural identity if your character or any of their co-workers have cultural identities that play into the story at all.

To explore the theme of co-worker dynamics, you could illustrate different types of relationships your character has with different co-workers. For example, a mentor/mentee relationship with their boss, a strained relationship with the co-worker one cubicle over, and maybe a strong kinship with another character who shares the protagonist's cultural identity.

Next, you can flesh out each individual situation. For example, what are some things that could happen that set things off on the wrong foot with the co-worker in the next cubicle? What are some things that could happen to further strain the relationship? What are some things that could happen to raise the stakes or maybe move things in an unexpected direction?

By doing the above, you can make sure the events of your story are thematically cohesive while still telling an interesting story about someone's average life.

Happy writing!

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