#And when I looked it up it was like oh yeah this often happens around 50000-100000 miles

[alpaca-clouds]

The Origin of Vampire Rules

Something I always find very funny in vampire media is, that vampires usually have those certain rules, right? Vampires usually cannot go out into the sun. Often they will not be able to touch crosses or even be paralyzed by just looking at a cross. They might be shapeshifters. Vampires often cannot cross flowing water, and they also cannot cross a home without an invitation. Sometimes they are weirdly allergic against garlic. Also sometimes they have no mirror reflection. Or even not a shadow. They might not be able to cross onto sacred land (so for example they cannot set food on church ground). And of course they need to drink an undefined amount of blood.

And yes, this is just another excuse to talk about some more mythology - and how stuff happened to end up culture the way it did.

Origins of the Vampire Myths

Chances are, that someone told you that vampires are literally everywhere in the world and one of those myths that somehow is everywhere around.

This is not true - and mostly goes back to people applying "vampire" to pretty much everything that is arguably undead. Even though most of those figures technically are arguably a lot closer to zombies. If it does not leech energy or blood from living people, it is not a vampire.

So, actually vampires were a very specific thing that originated specifically in Eastern Europe. We are fairly certain that the origin of the myth came actually from some Ancient Greek myth that spread out into those places and then shifted. But the vampire itself comes from Slavic Myths. In those we have a variety of beings, that would qualify as vampires. Strigoi, Upir, Lugat, Moroi and quite a lot of others. There was a lot of overlap between those creatures and "evil witches" in a lot of times, and not all of them actually drank blood, but they drained at least your energy in some way.

Among people studying folklore folks are fairly certain that the myths came originally from people not fully understanding certain sicknesses. So basically, when a village was struck by a sickness like that, people would go: "Oh, this has to have been Alfred coming back from the dead," because Alfred recently died and it was the best explanation they came up with. And because people did not understand how dead bodies worked, they also would then see stuff like the hair and nails appearing longer when they opened the grave, which they saw as a proof that the dead was not really dead.

Generally speaking, there were then a couple of things that would be done to prevent them from coming back. Some people would just behead the dead body, others drove a stake through the heart of the people, while others might just tie up the legs of the dead.

But yeah, the one thing is that vampires come mainly from Slavic cultures. This is the important bit about vampires you need to remember. Because a lot of this comes back to this.

The Vampire Rules

The Vampire Rules are really fun, because they come together from three very different sources: From the fact that they were Slavic, from English folklore, and then from limitations in media.

So, let me go through typical vampire rules.

Vampires shapeshift: Vampires being shapeshifters goes back to Slavic mythology. In those vampires, witches and shapeshifters often were just the same kind of thing and had a lot of overlap.

Vampires cannot cross water: This originated probably in the Rennaissance. And it mainly originated from the fact that the people noticed that vampires only seemed to exist in Eastern Europe. Which people started to find weird. So, they had to come up with an explanation. And that explanation was: For some reason the vampires could not cross the Danube. This over time merged into "vampires cannot cross water".

Vampires are allergic against garlic: This is definitely something that goes back to the original myths. It is believed that this might be connected to the fact that garlic has an antibiotic effect. And as I said, vampire myths probably originated with unexplained sicknesses. So it is not hard to believe that people who ate garlic might not have gotten (as) sick, so folks were like: "Oh, the garlic kept the vampire away."

The stake through the heart kills vampires: This myth also comes from the vampire practices back then. On e way of burying a vampire in a way that it would not come back was to put a stake through the dead body.

The cross, not entering homes, and holy ground: Ironically, all those things that are probably connected to the same thing. Because these weaknesses are usually connected to more English folklore. While people definitely have hidden in churches (partly because of the law of sanctuary) forever, there is some good evidence that this actually comes more from British fairy culture - that then got applied to all other forms of paranormal creatures. And we know that around the 18th century, there was a whole big vampire scare in England, that definitely mixed a lot of Eastern European vampire lore with the lore of the Otherworld and Fae from Celtic mythology. Vampires having glamour of sorts probably is also connected to this.

Vampires do not have a reflection: This specifically is dated back to Bram Stoker, meaning everyone else after this just used this from Bram Stoker. The theory is that Stoker's idea was that mirrors somehow reflect the soul - something like that.

The Baptism of Blood: Another vampire thing that goes back to Stoker specifically is vampires having to exchange blood with someone to make them a vampire. Aka, drinking thier victims blood and then giving blood to them. In fact, in Stoker's work it was implied to have to happen three times until someone is turned a vampire. Which at least makes sure there are no accidental vampires.

Vampires drinking blood: Ironically the specific thing of vampires drinking blood also comes from Victorian Gothic literature. While this was not fully unheard off in mythology, it was not such a common trait there. But in Victorian literature it became THE vampire calling card. And this for two reasons. Reason 1: Welp, blood drinking is a neat symbolism for sex at time where you were not allowed to write about sex. Reason 2: ... Anti-Semitism and blood libel. I am sorry I could talk around this, but yeah, we definitely are certain that some of the Victorian vampires drink blood because the folks writing were implying blood libel. Welp.

Why Vampires Burn in the Sunlight: The dumbest bit of vampire lore I know is why vampires burn in sunlight. No, this does not originate with mythology - neither Slavic, nor Celtic. No, this does not go back to Dracula or another book of the time. Vampires in Victorian literature were fine and dandy in the sun. They might not be able to use certain magics, but other than that they were fine. No, the reason vampires burn in sunlight is... that the original Nosfertu ran out of budget, and needed a convenient way to dispatch the vampire. So they decided: "Oh, actually he burns in sunlight." And then, that stuck.

[mychemicalaromanticism]

He gets a chance to guess when he meets a man with fiery hair and a white leather jacket.

Val Velocity is constantly tense, with crossed arms and an ever-present furrow to his brow. He is distrustful and bitter, but his crew doesn't seem too bothered about it. They talk and play around him with comfort that only comes from a strong bond. Cherri notices the empty space they still subconsciously leave in their circles, and a purple mohawk flickers in and out of his vision.

He doesn't make the connection immediately. He gets flashes that don't mean anything to him; a slightly younger Val with solid blonde hair, no jacket, and an empty expression on his face; a young child holding what could only be a Scarecrow's hand. Val was a guarded person, inside and out. Cherri was visiting the Diner when he first had the thought.

Kobra was laying in the pile of pillows and blankets that lived on the cafeteria floor, inspecting his arms with a bored expression. "Oh, yeah, Val totally- Val totally, uh, totally freaked it on Ghoul last week."

Cherri raised an eyebrow, leaning a little more on his hand from his seat at a booth. "Did he, now?"

"Yeah, he like- like, shoved him. Knocked him over. Knocked him over." His face didn't change.

"Did they deserve it?" Fun Ghoul was known to be annoying, known to enjoy being annoying. It was still surprising to hear that Val had succeeded in knocking them over, if that was true. He must have pushed them pretty hard.

"Yyyyyeah. I guess." Kobra rolls onto his side, facing Cherri. He stretches his arms over his head lazily, making his face squish against a pillow. "Ghoul was all up- all in his space, in his space with- with his arms around him 'n shit. Guess it freaked him out," comes his mumbled reply. He smirks. “Party punched- punched him in the face, though.”

Cherri smothers his first thought, his brain's desperate attempt to find and connect with people like him. No one likes being grabbed. Val's especially hot-headed. He wills himself to stop thinking about the way Val distances himself, the way he clings to his jacket like it's his only defense against the world, the way he apparently reacts violently to touch, to being restrained.

"You good?" Kobra asks. Cherri snaps back to attention, focusing on Kobra's repeated question. He gives a weak "Yeah" and a thumbs up. An echo appears standing just behind Kobra, a kid with short brown hair and glasses wearing a plain red long sleeve shirt and jeans. The most generic, ordinary child Cherri could probably imagine, but his face is tensed in suppressed anxiety. He feels a pang of regret for whatever memory he's triggered for Kobra and tries to look more relaxed. The echo disappears, and Kobra starts talking about his and Ghoul's latest adventures in rewiring C.A.T.

None of the Four seemed too concerned with the altercation. It happened, it ended, and people moved on. Even Party, who was the most upset with Val, had dropped the subject. And then the next time he sees them, Ghoul tells him about Val’s apology and that Vinyl likes to cook. Cherri can’t see anything on Val. His crewmates flicker with memories and apparitions around him and his form is unwavering, stubbornly locked down.

Cherri’s sitting in the Diner again. The Girl is on the floor next to the booth he’s in, playing a card game with Jet and Vamos. Party and Kobra are talking over each other with Vaya while Ghoul sits off to the side interjecting every so often.

Val is sitting where he always does, on the barstool against the wall and closest to the door. He’s accompanied by Vinyl this time, talking to him quietly.

The Girl leans back, pressing her head into Cherri’s thigh. “Hey. It’s not cheating to hide how many cards I have, is it?”

“It totally fucking is!” Jet exclaims.

“But we’re supposed to hide them in the first place!”

“We still need to know how many you have!”

Cherri puts a hand on The Girl’s head and ruffles her hair absent-mindedly. “What are you even playing?”

“Uno,” The Girl says, leaning into Cherri’s touch.

Jet throws his arms up, exasperated. “The game where card count matters, it’s called Uno, for fuck’s sake!” Vamos snickers as he stops to catch his breath.

A foreboding feeling fizzles along Cherri’s skin, and he looks up. Val is glaring daggers at him. He startles and leans behind Vinyl when Cherri catches him.

“I think you’re cheating, Girlie,” Cherri concedes, taking his hand off of The Girl’s head and trying to shake off the sick feeling that’s come over him. The three players seem satisfied with his answer, The Girl muttering under her breath but still pulling her cards from under her thigh, and the game continues. Anyone paying attention to the discussion goes back to their activities, and Cherri stares forward at the space behind Val.

There’s an echo, a Val slightly shorter but so much younger than the one sitting at the bar. His hair is solid blonde and the same length, but shaggy in an unintentional way that makes him look more disheveled than wild-hearted. He’s missing his leather jacket, a plain blue t-shirt in its place, and jeans that probably came with him from the City.

His eyes are red-rimmed with fresh exhaustion and he has small, rounded, dark red and purple marks along his neck.

The impressions, the echoes, whatever Cherri wants to call the visions he receives when looking at people, he learns to decipher and interpret them. He can tell if someone carries the grief of a long-dead family member, he can tell when someone has experienced a significant feeling of being out of control. He can tell when someone is haunted by their past, and he can make a good guess as to what's haunting them. It comes to him in gut feelings, in the shifts in the air when people get lost in thought. It comes to him in images- ghostly glimpses into the past that cling and drag behind a person.

He tries not to stare when they appear. They aren't ghosts, not in the traditional sense, but accidentally making eye contact with them when they aren't even aware of their existence is unsettling to say the least. Most of the time they just stand there, stuck on loop in whatever moment they manifested from. He's seen too many battered children to ever sleep well again.

They're not all bad, of course. He'll see a child holding a toy that must have been important to them. Or someone with a fresh haircut and dye, dressed extravagantly with a gleam in their eyes. He's even seen a second figure accompanying some echoes- a family member, a friend, a teacher, he presumes. Someone important enough to appear alongside their memory.

He wonders, sometimes, what his own echoes look like.

[pumpkinland]

The worst thing about the issues I have with my car is that I can't even say it's a lemon or that it was poorly maintained before I bought it or that I was lied to about anything or that it has issues abnormally frequently & of notable severity it's genuinely all completely normal expected wear and tear for its age I just can't afford it. Like when I say "completely normal" I literally mean "there are dying/malfunctioning sensors that need to be replaced which are expected to last roughly 10 years but it's been 15 years"

[silverselfshippingchaos]

his birthday means that we are g.ladio posting like hell today

[tonycries]

AITA For F*cking My Sugar Daddy's Son?! - G.S.

Synopsis. When your sugar daddy just isn’t paying attention to you, can you really be blamed for fúcking his son? Especially when his son is absolutely obsessed with you.

Pairing. Rich boy! Gojo Satoru x Sugar baby! Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, jealous Satoru, créampie, dirty talk, manhandling, marking, Satoru’s dad is not really present, oral (female receiving), overstim, másturbation (male), thigh riding, cúmplay, Satoru is really really down bad and filthy for you, CEO’s son! Gojo,  pet names, swearing.

Word count. 8.1k

A/N. Will proofread later, lowkey scared to post this, but I just wanted it out of my mind. And in my mind, Satoru’s dad is FINE asl so-

The first time you meet Gojo Satoru is when you’re all dolled up for his father. 

Designer dress just a bit too tight, running on a few too many shots of tequila, wanting to be anywhere but at this stuffy gala. Everything was too bright - too polished.

And it really didn’t help that no matter how many scathing looks or whispers that followed you, you just had to be here - it was in your contract, after all. Because luckily for you, you just so happened to be the infamous little plaything hanging off the arm of the head of Gojo Corporations.

Well, usually. Right now your sugar daddy was too busy entertaining his business partners, leaving you off to the side, praying for something - anything - to save you from this-

“Damn if I’d come to these shitty galas a lot more often if it meant I’d get to see a beauty like you.”

You jolt out of your bored little reverie, eyes immediately snapping up to meet the tall man suddenly in front of you. When did he even get so close? 

You can’t help but drink him in from head to toe, from the overpriced, slightly-disheveled suit to the tiny dimple at the end of his mischievous grin. Strangely familiar white locks fell effortlessly to curtain his eyes. Eyes that were a startling blue - the kind of blue that had your cheeks flaring and knowing exactly who this was. 

Oh.

At your silence, he tilts his head with the air of someone that owns this entire venue and everything in it because, well, he did. Twinkling gaze searing into your skin as it roams appreciatively all over your body, plowing on, “Though, you look like you’re on the verge of an aneurysm around these old coots.”

You sigh, pinching your nose at the curious glances around you. Not even able to find it in yourself to put on that plastic smile anymore, “Oh y’know, just soaking up my popularity with the masses after being stranded here.”

“Oh? Here with anyone?”

“Yeah.” you blurt out, “Your father.”

You watch in amusement as Satoru’s mouth falls into a delicate oh! eyes flickering over his shades between you and the handsome man on the other end of the venue, oblivious and fully enjoying himself in the company of his secretary. A bit too much without you. 

“Y’know…” he starts, shaky and sounding only half the insufferable heir he was before, “I would say that’s a hilarious version of a ‘your mom’ joke but you’re actually serious, aren’t you?”

“Mhm. Though it would make a good punchline, huh?” You huff out a laugh at the way he was suddenly less of a smooth-talking playboy and more of a lost puppy. The gears turning in his head as he processes that oh shit you were the sweet lil’ thing his dad’s been suddenly rushing off to meet straight after work. And the reason why all those old fossils here were clutching their pearls in scandal.

He just didn’t expect you to be this…gorgeous. And for the first time in forever, he’s suddenly so intrigued.

Because ah, you should’ve known better than to think that this little hiccup would deter the infamous Gojo Satoru. No, in fact that million-dollar smirk only makes its way back onto his unfairly pretty face, like he’s about to spill the juiciest gossip of the century.  

“So you’re the latest armcandy my ol’ man has picked up, huh? I hafta say, dear old dad has good taste.” he muses, stepping in close enough that his expensive cologne makes your head spin. “Why don’t you and I ah-” You follow Satoru’s gaze to where he was staring at the way his father was now making a beeline through the crowd. Straight for the two of you. 

“Gotta run before I get my share of the company revoked.” he flashes you a quick smile, fulling intent on saving his father’s delicate ego. But not before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “But jus’ saying,” voice a pretty little purr, “I wouldn’t ever leave you standing here so alone and gorgeous, princess.”

You can only stand there, reeling from the sheer audacity as he darts into the crowd with a wink, not caring if he stepped on a few too many overpriced coattails than necessary. Wondering whether this was some bizarre dream induced by too much tequila and not enough common sense.

“Hi, sweetheart. Investors held me up, you know how it is. Having fun, huh?” A toned arm wraps around your waist as your sugar daddy finally arrives by your side. And as he went on about his latest business branch, only two thoughts ring through your mind - 1. You were seriously reconsidering this arrangement. And 2. This was going to be interesting. 

And oh was it interesting. 

Because Satoru always managed to find you, wherever you were. No matter if it was another droning function or a chance meeting at the sprawling Gojo Estate, Satoru always swooped in whenever his father was too busy for you. Which, fortunately for Satoru, happened to be a lot.  

Hell, he seemed to find you even when you least wanted him to. Like that time he had to drag you away mid-argument with a particularly rude one of his snobby aunts. That was not a fun family reunion. 

All unabashed confidence and pretty smiles where his father was cold, cold calculation. Ready with a smart mouth to bicker with you and bright eyes that seemed to linger on you a bit too long. But you didn’t mind - why would you? Because all things considered, Satoru was a very attractive man. Sure, his father was extremely handsome, too - in a clean-cut, DILF-y way, in fact. But his son was dangerously attractive.

So much so that sometimes when he swept you away from insufferable galas to talk, some strange little part of you wished it was him that you came here with instead. Just for a second. 

“So, what do you see in my father anyway? His company?” Satoru asked you one day. Draping himself over his cool office desk, so comically out of place in the stiff corporate room. Legs kicking in the air as he waits for your response.

You tear your eyes away from the way his biceps were straining so deliciously against his snug button-up to deadpan, “I mean, I am his sugar baby after all, Satoru.”

“But think about it,” he whines, batting those long lashes at you. Fully intent on driving you as dangerously close to a stroke as possible before his father finishes up an important business meeting. One that he missed - whoops. “There’s close to nothing redeemable about the man. His idea of a family bonding activity is a PowerPoint presentation on quarterly earnings.”

“Satoru.”   

“And either way- I’m getting the company in a few years, would ya be my sugar baby then, princess?”

Ah, there it was. 

It’s been a few weeks of knowing Satoru, and those little comments still made your head spin. Second-guessing the nature of this strange little…friendship? You didn’t even know anymore. Because yeah there might’ve been a few, stupid little lingering touches - like a trace on your hips, or your hand firmly in his as he led your (temporary) escape from another lonely gala. But those meant nothing, right?

“Nah, I’d poison you and take over the company instead.”

“Hey!”

Well, whatever, he was just your sugar daddy’s son. His sharp-mouthed, dangerously handsome son that just couldn’t seem to leave you alone. Not that you were complaining, really. Your relationship with his father was not exactly exclusive - you already knew that secretary of his was a bit suspiciously close - but that’s all he’ll ever be. Right?

Or, well, that’s what you stupidly thought. 

It wasn’t until one night late in the Gojo Estate, cursing those ridiculously long hallways, that you get an inkling of exactly how wrong you were. 

“Ugh, fucking rich people.” you mutter under your breath, wandering around trying to find whether the fuck the bathroom was. Because it doesn’t matter how many companies and businesses Gojo senior ran, the man still sucked at directions. You hiss, rubbing the tiny bruise on your neck - and aftercare too, clearly, even though that was in that damn contract. Something about an urgent business call with his secretary. Ugh. 

After three wrong doors, a trip around the in-home planetarium (seriously, who even needed that?), and chugging a full water bottle from the third kitchen in exhaustion, you finally find yourself walking towards what hopefully looked like the bathroom.

Hand reaching for the doorknob to swing it open. Ah, this better be the one or so help you-

Now, Satoru thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. And you - hair mussed, and dazed, standing there in nothing but a large button-up, falling just below your panties - looked like a sinfully beautiful lil’ demon here to lure him into hell. And oh how gladly he’d go if it means he got to see this ethereal view more often. 

“Ah! Wha- Sato-” 

You don’t even know if you want to scream or not - torn between taking in the sculpted chest smushed against your face and not wanting to alert security downstairs. Reeling backward you drink in the sight before you and God how you wish you didn’t - it wasn’t too good for your heart. 

Satoru’s hair was tousled, droplets of water glistening on his hair like diamonds. Skin soft and damp and smelling so delicious. Bathroom light bouncing off his rippling muscles, pecs flexing, as his strong arms reach out to steady you as you reel backwards. 

Traitorously, your eyes snake across his sculpted body. Dipping below once. Twice. Cheeks flaring as a pang of disappointment hits you at the damp towel wrapped around that slutty torso. Wondering what’s underneath-

“Y’should take a picture, it lasts longer.” Satoru grins, like the shameless bastard he is. Though he wasn’t in any better state - eyes flickering between you and any sliver of exposed skin his eyes could reach. 

“I should be saying the same to you.” you mutter, caught red-handed, shuffling your feet in embarrassment. 

Satoru lets out a low chuckle as he pulls you closer minutely, presence practically enveloping you. “Oh, me?” he says, voice dropping to a husky murmur. Thumb tracing that little spot on your neck, “S’hard not to when y’look so appetizing.”

And you don’t even try to pull away because fuck this is Satoru and he looks so good - so warm under your fingertips, even when you jolt at the realization of what exactly he was talking about. Your hand coming up to cover that tiny mark left on your skin from not-too-long ago. A shameful little reminder that this was his son. 

You grapple for some - any - sense of normalcy. Warning, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Satoru.”

He leans down impossibly, quirking an eyebrow. Both amusement and something unreadable flashing across his face. “Oh, but it’s got my father somewhere?”

“Why? Jealous?”

“Yes.”

You startle, taken aback by the blunt confession. So direct and something so Satoru. The word hands in the hair’s breadth between you two now, sending your mind reeling. And you can’t help but repeat, “Jealous?”

“Fucking yes.” There it was again. 

But this time, Satoru plows on, voice barely above a whisper but ringing in the thick air. “Jealous he gets to have you all to himself but still doesn’t kiss you like you should be.”

“What do you-”

“Your lipstick.” he interrupts, swiping a thumb over your bottom lip, “Why’s it as perfect as since you came in?” And, indeed, you realize with a jolt that no you really haven’t been kissed the way you wanted - not enough to leave your make-up so sinfully ruined. 

Minty breath fanning your face so dangerously now, and you barely even realize that you’re leaning into it, “If it were up to me, princess, I’d ruin that pretty lil’ lipstick of yours every chance I got.”

A delicious little shiver runs down your spine, head spinning at Satoru and his words and Satoru- And it’s all you can do to get out a shaky, “So why don’t you?”

And then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - like neither of you had the strength nor the will to stop. 

Satoru tasted just like candy, such an intoxicating sweetness that had you gasping as his soft tongue licked at the seam of your lips. Intertwining with yours as he breathes you in desperately. So sloppy. Such a sinful little mix of saliva and teeth and pure need.

His chest is soft under your greedy hands, lips searing against yours, and you could feel his hands wandering across every inch of skin they could find. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again because fuck he knows that he might just not. 

Long fingers dance delicately underneath that shirt to feel- oh fuck, you weren’t even wearing panties. Such a pretty lil’ slut and by God was he a goner. 

Groaning into the kiss, he lets you loop your arms around his neck, hardened nipples rubbing against his abs as you tug on his damp hair. Honestly, fuck that thin shirt, Satoru thinks he might just pass out right here right now.

“S-Satoru.” you whisper against his lips, legs hiking up to grind your bare cunt against the throbbing erection straining against his towel. Already so wet from water or precum, you had absolutely no idea. You couldn’t give less of a fuck in fact, needing to see if Satoru’s cock was as pretty as the rest of him right now. Hands urgently dipping below the hem, starting to tug and-

“Hey, sweetheart. Did you find the bathroom?”

Shit. Fuck. Wonderful - perfect, in fact.

You would’ve thought Satoru burned you with how quickly you pushed him away. Cheeks burning, breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Almost slipping on the tile as you try to compose yourself at a safe distance - one that wouldn’t end up with you jumping his bones again. 

But all rational thoughts of that and your sugar daddy - Satoru’s father - almost go out the window once you take in the heavenly sight before you. 

Satoru’s lips swollen, hair disheveled, towel hanging slightly too low off his hips. Giving you such a pretty peak of those tufts of snowy white hair at the bottom. 

“W-we shouldn’t…” you trail off, as the footsteps get louder and louder. Something prickly and uncomfortable pooling in your stomach with each beat. 

Luckily for you, Satoru probably catches on to how you looked like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole right now. Voice low and control as he agrees, “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t.” No care in the world for his steadily approaching father as he lazily adjusts his towel, a gesture so nonchalant yet distracting. 

You swallow hard as he moves to walk past you, thinking that if this just so happened to be a dream then by God was it a good one. But of course - when has Satoru ever let you have it easy?

Because he stops abruptly in his tracks, fingers only ghosting the doorknob. Immediately turning back to walk to you with two, big steps, eyes gleaming, dimple flashing. And before you even know what’s happening, his lips are on yours. Featherlight and fleeting. But so so addictive. Nipping at your bottom lip, savoring you on his tongue.

It’s over before you know it, and a pathetic little disappointed whine leaves you as he pulls away. A smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he mutters lowly into yours, “Y’look prettier like this.”

Ah, you weren’t happy to see him leave but how you loved watching him go. Bathroom light so pretty against all the dips and curves of his figure as he walked away. White hair reflecting the warm hue, muscles flexing, hips slightly swaying with such a slutty little confidence that only Satoru could have. 

As you watch him disappear around the door, you almost forget the unwelcome visitor hot on your heels any second now and - wait - what was it that he’d said? “Prettier like this”?

Turning to the mirror and- 

Oh. Shit. 

You better have brought your make-up remover.

God, Satoru’s never ran to his room as fast as this since that time he was caught using his father’s elite golf clubs to play pool with Suguru.

Because as soon as that goddamn door is shut, he’s ripping his towel off. Letting it drop to the floor in a damp pile God-knows-where as he immediately fists his swollen cock.

With a groan, he leans against the shut door.  Eyes scrunching in such sinful ecstasy as he squeezes the base, pulsing and so achingly hard for you. A warning and a reprimand. Shit, how the fuck did he get this hard just from kissing your pretty lil’ lips?

Ah, whatever, right now he doesn’t have the patience nor the sanity to think too hard about it. Smearing the precum beading at his weeping tip, wetting his palm so sloppily. 

Neat little crescents searing into his skin where you’d grabbed him before, only thing on his mind - how would you do it?

Would you ease him into it? Or would you start up a hasty, desperate little pace like he was doing right now? Shallow, quick tugs on his thick cock like you wanted to milk him deliciously. 

Satoru’s hand was cold on his angry, hot cock. And with how many times he’s slipped his into yours, he knew yours would feel better around him. Both hands wrapped around his cock but still not covering all of it. So soft and warm, your nails scraping gently across his throbbing veins. 

“Shit. Hngh-” he breathes out, voice almost-pathetic, “J-jus’ like that, princess.” 

And what would you say? Tell him to shut up and just take it? Would you whisper into his ear as you let him fuck himself into your pretty fists? “So hard n’ big all f’me?” Satoru’s knees buckle at the thought, hand speeding up. “Y’look so pretty like this, y’know.”

Slam! Palm slamming against the poor drawer beside him hard enough to make its legs tremble, desperately trying to keep himself from collapsing. 

But oh his fist doesn’t stop. No, he doubts he ever will - not that strong of a man to keep himself from getting off so filthily to the image of you standing at the doorway of the bathroom. You looked so ethereal - Satoru couldn’t help but imagine how even more sinful you’d look if he was the one done with you. Shit, you wouldn’t even be able to stand if he had his way. 

“F-fuck, princess. M’gonna ruin you, gonna fuck you till you don’t know anything but m’name.”

He grips tighter on the base, thumbing under his slit in a way he knows your devious little hands would do. Fucked-out little grunts leaving his swollen lips each time his fingers meet his flushed tip.

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he mutters hoarsely, letting out a low, broken little call of your name. “More. Need more, princess.” He wanted you so badly that it hurt.

What the fuck did that sleazy old man have that he didn’t? And that little bite? That would be nothing compared to what Satoru would do if he got his hands on you. Yeah, he thinks, body shuddering violently, he’d mark you up till everyone knows you’re his. Leave bites that peak out from your collar, all the way down to your pretty thighs.

“Y’belong with me pretty, could fuck you so much better.” Sweat drips from his brow, splashing onto his erratic fist. Thighs quivering, heart pounding wildly in his chest. 

Satoru would almost be embarrassed by how desperate he was acting if he was in any better state of mind. Head only filled with you, and your hand and you-

And fuck for the sake of his sanity he can’t even begin to imagine how it would feel inside your pretty lil’ cunt. All he can think of is the way you’d keen so prettily, mewling out a little, “Oh s’too big.” 

Would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you milk his cock? Or would he have to ram his dick into you, because shit as much as he loves that  bitchy mouth, it would look so much better gasping and stuttering as he fucks you dumb. 

“Oh yeah.” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Such a good lil’ slut f’me. Taking m’so well.” 

God his hand was so sloppy on his dick that he didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. Just wanting to fuck you and have you do this f’him. 

Ah, your plushy walls would suck him in so nicely. One hand speeds up on his cock, while the other reaches down to cradle his balls. Tugging and pulling at the same jerky rhythm they would smack your ass while he stuffs you full. 

So much better than any other sugar daddy ever could. Oh how Satoru would love to mess up your pretty pussy and your lipstick. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on if he could.

And you’d be able to do nothing but gasp and whimper into his lips, cockdrunk and dazed, “Shit shit shit- Toru m’gonna - Hah- Wanna cum. Please wan’ cum-” Oh how he’d burn down this entire fucking world to hear you call him that. 

“Fuck,” he curses, bucking into his fist, tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, princess.”

“Cum f’me, Toru. Fill me up with y’cum- wanna take all of it.”

And then he’s cumming. 

A ragged, raw moan of your name leaving his lips. Thick, hot ropes of cum that should be painting your pussy white - but, alas, he’s spilling into his fist so shamefully. And amongst the stars behind his eyes he’s sees you - you you you-

You, fucking your cunt deeper onto his cock to take every drop of his cum. You, whispering sweet little praises as his seed gushes down your thigh, telling him that oh he’s doing so well, and he’s the best boyfriend ever and you already want more-

You, at the arm of his father.

Shit, he needs to shower. Again. 

---

Ever since that little incident that night, everything changed. 

At this point, you didn’t even feel that usual little bitterness whenever your sugar daddy canceled for some urgent business. And, well, it made you blush to admit but you found yourself heading over to the Gojo Estate more and more frequently, often just to catch a glimpse of Gojo - or a quick kiss in the stuffy broom closet. Whichever left you more time to run away from looming security and his father. 

But that was exactly the problem. 

Because no matter how thick the tension lingering in the air between you two was, nothing had gone past heated kisses and touches. Either you were brought back to reality with the possibility of being arrested for indecent exposure at those galas, or someone just had to interrupt. Seriously, with how many times Satoru has had to pay off his poor personal assistant, you’ve been wondering whether he actively seeks you two out. 

And it really didn’t help that Satoru always tasted so goddamn delicious. Fingers searing on your skin, cologne heavy in the heady air, it was hard to keep your hands to yourself. 

But, hey, desperate times bring devious measures.

Which is why you were here right now - sinking into the plushiest bed at the Gojo Estate, clad in your delicate light blue lingerie. One that was custom-made in this specific shade of blue. Because while your sugar daddy preferred you in red, you’re sure he wouldn’t mind you using his credit card for other ulterior motives, right? 

You just hoped that Satoru would just so happen to get a peak when you sneak out to use the bathroom later. What would he say? Would he like it? Would his eyes roam over your body, fingers twiddling with the flimsy lace?

But more importantly - would it be enough to make him break? Even if just a little bit?

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You’re startled out of your little whirlwind thoughts by knocking on the door. Steady, and matching your racing heart. Ah, Satoru’s father, you hastily get up to fix your hair.

“Yo, princess, are you naked or can I come in? Or can I come in when you’re naked?”

That wasn’t your sugar daddy. 

Not even thinking of your current outfit anymore, you rush to throw the heavy wooden doors open to see that, yes, it really was Satoru standing at the door. All bright grins and flushed cheeks as he drinks you in. Brows raising as his eyes move down from your face once. Twice. Thrice. 

Success. 

“What’re you doing here, Satoru?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. Trying to hold back the smirk threatening to curl your lips at the way he gulps.

“Uh- My father’s off to some urgent b-business.” he murmurs, scratching the back of his neck. “Told me to tell you he’s sorry and wishes you the breas- best.”

Oh. 

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Satoru’s father has canceled on you. But it would be the first time that he’s canceled on you so conveniently enough to leave you alone with his unfairly hot son. Now, you couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste, right?

You lean slightly against the door, body ghosting Satoru’s, teasing him, “Well, when is my dear sugar daddy coming back from his business? Tell him I miss him.”

It’s a joke - and both of you probably know it. But that doesn’t stop Satoru’s brows furrowing ever-so-slightly, suddenly a different man from the flustered one he was just a few seconds ago as he mutters, “I don’t think he’ll be back tonight.”

“Aww, must be some important business.” 

He clenches his jaw aggressively at that, gritting out a clipped little, “You do know that ‘business’ of his is his secretary right?”

“I know. What a shame, right? Guess I’ll just have to go home n’ wait for him then?” you mockingly sigh - God, someone give you an Oscar. Moving to close the door in Satoru’s face, only to be stopped by a large hard smacking into the doorframe - as you knew it would. 

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m gonna let you come out looking like that and let you go home without tearing it to shreds.”

And that’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.

The door is slamming shut before you know it, and you’re shoved against it. Satoru’s lips such a sloppy mix of teeth and spit. Hands just everywhere - cradling your cheek, teasing your nipples through your bra, running down to squeeze and grope your ass. He just couldn’t get enough of you. 

Fuck twiddling with the lace, Satoru seemed well and fully intent to rip it off of you. And you’d let him. Just like he was letting you shove his overpriced button-up down his toned shoulders. Soft little rips sounding in the heady air at the urgency but neither of you could give less of a fuck. 

All you could think of is the way Satoru was so pretty and muscled. Drinking in all the dips and curves of pale skin underneath your fingertips. 

“Fuck, princess. Chose this color on purpose, huh?” his fingers dive under the hem of your bra, “Wanted to drive me crazy, mm?”

“Y-yes, Satoru.” you gasp into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. “Wanted you to look at it. Got it custom-made all f’you.” words muffled as he sucks on your tongue. Satoru was always such a messy kisser, licking at the seam of your lips and intertwining his tongue with yours with no shame or shyness. A delicate trail of drool already starting at the corner of your mouth. 

Ah, it was too much for him. Satoru almost thinks he could cum in his pants right now at your sinful little admission. 

Which is why he pulls away to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, letting out a broken little hum of appreciation into your skin. “Thought so.”

And then your bra’s hitting the floor, tits spilling out into the cold bedroom air. But only for a split-second because Satoru’s immediately groping each and every inch of skin he can find. 

“Look so fucking beautiful like this.” Rolling your swollen nipples between two fingers as he mutters - more to himself than you, “Was gonna let him see you in this slutty lil’ thing, too?” leaning down to tongue lazily little circles on one nipple. Words muffled as he wraps his lips so prettily around your tit - tugging, just grazing with his teeth, “Matching my eyes, huh? Fuckin’ gonna be the death of me shit-”

Satoru was insatiable. Wanting all of you all at the same time. And you follow his line of sight to see him locked on your dripping cunt - soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. Clenching around nothing as his pretty pink lips fall into a soft oh! at the sight. 

Like a madman, he immediately drops to his knees. But you don’t think he even feels the pain as he bites down on the hem of your wet panties. Looking up at you with dazed eyes - miles away. 

Breath ghosting your quivering cunt, tugging lightly with his teeth, “Next time, I’m gonna be the one buying you these.”

Then he’s pulling - tearing your drenched panties to shreds. Grinning so devilishly around it as he gets his first sight of your pretty pussy.  Oh you were so perfect for him. So mouthwateringly wet. 

“Shit, princess. Can’t believe you were fucking holdin’ out on me.”  he muses in wonder, eyes wide at the way your sloppy pussy was glistening in the dim lighting. 

“You were the one that-”

And usually, Satoru loves hearing you run your mouth, but this time he’s shutting you up by diving face-first into your dripping cunt. Cute little mewls leaving you as he presses so shamefully deep that his nose was against your throbbing clit, rubbing languidly as he licks a thick stripe up your swollen folds. 

And then it was like something snapped. 

Because one taste of you and Satoru’s going wild. Throwing a leg over his shoulder to lick more desperately all all over your cunt, lapping up all the juices that gush out of you. Already so addicted because shit you were so much sweeter than in his dreams. 

“Ah! Hngh- please.” you mewl, as he wraps his glossy lips around your swollen clit. All you get is a feral little grunt, his jaw parted, eyes looking like he’s on cloud nine as starts to suck harshly. Filthy little squelches filling the air as Satoru rolls his tongue across your clit. “Feels, s’good, Satoru.”

But your cute little whines turn into one of disappointment as Satoru pulls away ever-so-slightly. “Call m’Toru.” he slurs.

And he doesn’t waste any more time, tongue swishing in his mouth to spit on you once. Twice. Missing ever so slightly, and splattering on your thigh. You flinch, gasping out a breathless little, “Toru!”

“Oh shit, princess. Yeah- say m’name jus’ like that” he groans, ragged and raw. The last thing out of his mouth before he’s squeezing his soft tongue into your snug cunt. Dipping into your sloppy hole in and out in and out in and-

“He ever made you feel this good?” he moans into your cunt, the vibrations making you fuck yourself deeper into his unrelenting tongue. 

“W-what?”

“He ever made you feel this good? Cum so hard you see stars?”

You gasp out a pathetic little sob, “N-no. Want to- Wan’ you to make me cum, Toru. Make me cum around your tongue.”

And, well, what his girl wants - then she’s going to get. Because Satoru’s lapping at your cunt even more greedily than before. 

Stretching you out, breathing you in, looking up at your cute expression through his long lashes. Already so fucked-out for him. 

Nose rubbing purposefully in small circles on your clit. Fucking you with his tongue the way he wants to with his cock and he didn’t give a fuck if he suffocated in-between your thighs - he fucking loved it. 

“Hngh- shit shit shit yes!” your nails are digging into Satoru’s scalp at this point. The only thing steadying yourself to prevent you from collapsing onto the ground. And you really can’t help but angle his head just right so that his tongue curls against that one spot inside your plushy walls. 

Thankfully, he gets the memo. Because Satoru’s letting out a strangled little grunt at being so used by you as you drag your cunt across his pretty mouth. Body jerking into his as he hits that spot over and over-

“T-Toru- hah!” thighs quivering, Satoru’s grip bruising as he holds you up. “M’m gonna-” Your plushy walls sucking him up, thighs squeezing around his face. 

“Mhm?”

“Cum! M’gonna cum- ah- fuck fuck fuck-”

He groans huskily into your cunt. Throwing his head back ever-so-slightly to let your slick slide down his throat - greedily waiting for more that was to come. “Then show me how you cum, m’girl. Cum all over my tongue.”

And then you are - all over Satoru’s pretty face. And fuck he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked prettier. Holding his head in place as you rock your hips into his waiting mouth, letting him drink you in so greedily. Clamping down on his tongue like you were trying to milk him. 

And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d notice the delirious little heart eyes that Satoru was giving you, your cunt firm on his face and swollen lips letting out such pretty whines of his name. Toru Toru Toru - like a prayer as you fucking use him for your high. 

Ah, he could stay like this forever, he thinks. But no, an empty house and you all wet n’ pretty for him means there’s too much more to do. 

Which is why he’s pulling away, your slick decorating his lips so prettily. Smeared across the bottom half of his face and dripping onto the hardwood floor in a maddening little drip! drip! drip! 

And Satoru knows, with the way you watch him so intensely, mouth parted, eyes glossy. Which is why he runs a thumb along his mouth, pooling your juices on his fingers and popping them into his mouth. One by one. 

Your jaw drops a little in disbelief as Satoru licks his fingers clean, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste. Oh he was ruining you without even touching you. 

“Not enough, princess.” he chuckles. “C’mon, gimme a kiss.”

And, really, how could you ever say no to that face? Because you’re pulling him to you as soon as Satoru stands to his full height. Capturing his lips in such a sloppy, filthy kiss - forcing you to taste yourself and you half-lucidly wonder whether Satoru loved the taste almost as much as you because it was so him.

Bodies so close that your dripping cunt was seeping into his unfairly tight shirt. Forming a lewd little dark patch when Satoru lifts you effortlessly to guide you to the bed. Tongue still entwining obscenely with yours as he splays you out on the soft mattress for him. Drinking in that adorable lil’ shock on your face as you bounce on the bed, so drunk off of him that you didn’t even realize he was taking you to the bed. 

“Shit, y’look the prettiest like this, princess. S’a wonder m’not fucking passing out right now.” he hisses into your lips.

“Toru-” you whine, and shit the way his cock jumps at the mere sound of your voice makes you think that this will be a little trick you’re using more often. “Wan’ your cock s’bad. Wanna-”

You don’t even have the patience to finish the sentence before you’re fumbling with his belt. Something hefty and overpriced but you can’t possibly think about that right now because fuck you get the first sliver of milky skin. 

Satoru’s thighs were so sculpted and thick. It made your mouth absolutely water to wonder what it would feel like to ride them to insanity.

“Y’wanna ride my thighs? Fuck princess, you really are driving me crazy.” 

Shit had you said that out loud? 

Ah, well, it doesn’t matter because Satoru’s pulling his boxers down - so tight with his swollen cock, a dark patch right where his weeping head was. And you almost pout at losing the opportunity to take them off but oh how you’re distracted by the sinful sight before you. 

Satoru was massive - so long and flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Shit, you were going to have to get a lingerie set in this color one of these days. He was achingly hard and throbbing, springing up to smear precum all over his abs. 

And before you can even react, Satoru’s pulling you to him. Manhandling your pretty self so easily to straddle one, large thigh. 

“Oh- hngh, Toru.” you look up at him all doe-eyed and teary as he doesn’t even wait for you to register what’s all happening. Grip bruising on your hips as he rocks your hips so sluttily on his leg. “F-feels s’good. Ah-”

“Yeah? Y’like it? Like getting yourself off like a lil’ slut on my thigh?” he groans into your ear, low and husky with need. 

You nod wildly, sloppy pussy dripping all over his thigh, seeping into his skin as you grind your hips to meet his movements. “Like it s’much- ah-”

“Mhm? Better than anything he could ever do?”

“Yes yes yes, Toru-” you sob, cheeks burning as you realize that you’re humping him like a bitch in heat - but oh judging by the carnal little glint in his eyes, he liked it. Loved it, even. Because Satoru could feel the way your swollen folds spread to grind against him, clit pulsing so maddeningly against his skin. So filthy and messy as you used him to get yourself off. “S’much better- the best-”

He just didn’t expect to feel a soft hand wrapping around his cock. Eyes flying open to see you - all glassy-eyed, and fucking yourself on his thigh - wrap a hand around his cock. Starting to move in shallow, unsteady little motions up and down his throbbing cock to get him off at the same time as you.

“Wan’ you to cum, too, Toru.”

“Oh fuck.” he grunts, letting his hips fuck up into your fist in mindless little motions. “Y’don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

And with that his fingers were digging into the skin of your hips, forcing you to hold on for dear life as he drags your dripping cunt faster and faster across his thick. Movements erratic and frenzied now. 

Of course, you were not one to be out-done. 

Satoru’s precum spilling down your hand, your wrist now aching and wet, becoming so, so sloppy trying to get both yourselves off. But you still tighten your fist around his pulsing cock, desperately flying up and down his length. Pulling in quick, jerky motions to milk him for all he’s worth again and again and-

“You’re so oh- good f’me, princess.” he hums. “Your hngh- hands are so p-pretty wrapped around my cock. So perfect for me.” Bucking his hips wildly to meet your hand now, fucking your fist with no shame. Pulling you harsher on his thigh. “S’such a shame you had to hah fuck- meet my father first. I’d have been so much better.”

“Toru!” you squeal as one hand moves deftly from your hips to draw quick, hasty little circles on your throbbing clit. The friction from his thigh and fingers too much to handle. 

“I’d make you happier.” Your body is shaking now, hands messy and trembling around his swollen cock. “I’d make you laugh more and give you all m’time.” You can’t even look at him at this point, eyes scrunched close in ecstasy as Satoru whispers these maddening little phrases into your open mouth. 

“I’d make you cum harder.”

Oh and then you are - tears in your eyes, body convulsing into his as you cum. And of course he’s smirking smugly as he watches you ride your high out on his thigh, brows furrowed and bottom lip bitten in concentration as he holds off cumming. Not now. Not yet. 

“So, better than him or not?”

But shit was it hard. 

Especially when you raise your pretty, barely-lucid eyes to meet his, whimpering out a soft little, “I don’ know yet, Toru. Gonna hafta stuff me full of your cock if you wanna know.”

And perhaps for the first time since you walked in on him after the shower that night, the great Gojo Satoru is taken aback. Eyes widening in surprise, kiss-bitten lips falling into a soft oh! of disbelief. But not for long - never for long - because a devilish little grin breaks out across his face immediately afterwards. 

“Shit, y’really are perfect f’me, princess.”

With a low growl, Satoru is easily pulling your body - limp and boneless in his hands - to straddle his toned hips. 

You let out a yelp at the feeling of his fat tip just kissing your swollen folds, dragging teasingly along them, collecting the slick beading out of your sloppy cunt. Back and forth-

“Who’s got you feeling this way?”

“You, Toru.”

And then he’s pushing in, swollen cock bullying into your snug pussy. Thumbs drawing steady little circles on your hips - yes to reassure you but also to fight off that feral little part of himself that just wants to stuff your pretty lil’ pussy full until his heavy balls smack your ass. Not even waiting for you to adjust. 

But no. No, it was so much better when you were the one desperately trying to suck up his cock. Gasping and moaning out strangled little whimpers of his name as you sink yourself down on his throbbing dick. Inch by fucking inch. 

“S’too big- Hngh! I-is it even halfway in?” you whimper out, and Satoru could almost laugh humorlessly as he tilts his head to glance downwards and shit- he was barely a quarter in. 

“No.” 

“F-fuck” cute little tears streaking down your face now, thighs trembling, “Toru, I-I don’t think I can-”

“You can. And you will.” Fucking up into you in short, rapid little jabs to squeeze himself deeper into your tight pussy. Shit, it was such a squeeze, you were milking the ever-loving soul out of him. And it only made him impossibly harder inside you, making you whine and grind down - torn between chasing the feeling of being so deliciously full and the sheer pressure. “Shit, love when your pussy’s sucking me up so good.” 

One hand is on your hip, sliding you farther and farther down his cock, the other drawing urgent, quick patterns on your clit. Not even circles anymore because shit Satoru doesn’t have the patience nor the sanity for that. Throbbing veins rubbing so sinfully against that one spot in your dripping cunt, splitting you apart to the same rhythm as the pulsing. 

And as soon as your ass meets his heavy balls - already so wet with precum and slick - Satoru doesn’t even know if he’s on planet Earth anymore. Mind spinning, he doesn’t waste any time at all. 

“Fuck yes.” Satoru hisses, throwing his head back. “Fucking finally.” He pulls his hips back, far enough that his angry, red tip is just kissing your sloppy entrance, surging forward, forward, forward- “Y’don’t know how fucking long I’ve wanted this, princess. Needed this s’bad, so so bad you don’t understand. Shit.”

And, hey, his girl deserved to be fucked dumb, right?

“Needed this ever since I saw you at that goddamn gala.” he whispers into your lips, ragged and so fucked-out. Each word punctuated by a harsh, heavy thrust. Ones that have you keening and grasping Satoru’s broad back for support. Nails raking down his shoulders as his pace gets faster. More purposeful.

And you can do nothing but take it, barely even able to form any coherent sentences. So prettily sat on Satoru’s lap as he fucks into you, babbling sweet little nonsenses made for your ears only. “Ever since I saw that murderous little glare you threw at those snobby guests.”

His balls smacking against your ass over and over. A quick, steady little tempo that you were losing your mind to. “Ever since you let me take your hand and drag you away to that secret bar to take shots instead of champagne.”

You don’t know whether you’re even crying at this point - all you know is that your cheeks are wet and your voice is broken as your let out a little, “F-fuck, Satoru- but your fa-”

“Fuck that.” he whines, and you could almost laugh at the adorable pout that makes its way onto his face. And at that you can feel him jolt so deliciously, head snapping up to meet yours. “I’m the better one.”

And as if he’s trying to prove it to your cunt, he’s drilling into you faster. Harder. Hips burning now as he fucks you like some animal. Hitting that sweet spot over and over. “I’m the one with the personality and the looks.” Long fingers almost a blur on your clit as he matches his place. Cock hot, and throbbing inside you. 

“I’m the heir, I get the company, too, if that’s what you like.” He’s bouncing you on his cock animalistically now. Hungry gaze taking in the way you’re sucking him up so well. “And I’m funnier one, I’m the one that should be by your side.”

You see stars behind your eyes at both the pleasure and sheer overstimulation as Satoru starts fucking your cunt as best he could without fucking breaking you  - but, honestly, he didn’t give a shit if you cried. He just wanted to stuff you full and have you cum harder than you ever have in your life. 

“Fuck- fuck yes m’gonna cum Toru- hngh.” You pull him closer to you, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of your neck. “M-make ah! Make me cum, fill me up please, Toru.”

You feel him shudder inside you, balls squeezing so painfully. Hips sloppy and absolutely soaked with precum and slick. “Sh-shit, you’re not too good for m’heart. Ngh, f-fuck- I should be the one to make you cum. Over and over until you don’t know what it feels like to not.”

“Toru!” your eyes fly open, “Yes yes yes- it’s you. Only you-”

Oh, like something snapped then Satoru’s surging forward to bite down on the crook of your neck. Hard. You’d almost think he was out to draw blood. And then with a low groan, and one, harsh little thrust, Satoru’s cumming and cumming inside your pretty pussy. And you are too - back arching as you milk his cock through his high. 

Fingers digging into your skin as he holds your hips to his, letting your cunt be filled up so sloppily. Pumping thick, hot ropes of seed that dribbled out of you each time he pumped his hips into yours. Fucking it deeper and deeper inside you. 

And then you’re both collapsing, the exhaustion suddenly hitting the both of you as Satoru moves you both to lay on the mattress. Fuck, Satoru watches in wonder as his cum gushes out of you and forms a wet little pool on the expensive sheets as he starts to pull out. One round might just not be enough. 

Yet not yet - he can feel his eyes drooping, muscles aching as he pulls your sticky body closer to his. And Satoru knows he should get up and wipe you both down. But right now, he’s too drunk off the heat of your body and that angry little bite on your neck. Distracted by the cute lil’ expression on your face, so tired and thoroughly fucked out. Fingers playing with his hair, looking at him with an expression so fond - just like in his dreams. 

Nothing more is said. And all is quiet in your strange little heaven. 

That is, until - “So, princess. Wouldn’t ya wanna be an heiress instead of a sugar baby?”

A/N. How we feeling???

Plagiarism not authorized.

[rafesweetie]

rafe accidentally making a habit out of slapping bsf!readers ass and it becomes normal for them but he does it at a party or smth and nobody else thinks it's normal

ugh yes like it’s literally a goonfest between those two and everybody has to take a second look!!! im imagining s1 rafe here.. and his annoying friends… yummy!

rafe and you had a special bond, as you put it. truthfully, you were always a bit hazy anyway, eyebrows often furrowed in confusion when rafe’s discussing his business to you, or asking him to look things up for you. you wouldn’t call yourself stupid — just easily confused and sometimes unsure. so that’s where bsf!rafe comes in. he swooped into your life before you knew it, instantly attaching himself to the pretty girl who must need her knight in shining armor. you weren’t really sure how you got so close, but it happened.

it was innocent, for the most part. and i say that wholeheartedly. movie nights at your place, helping him babysit younger wheezie, going for ice cream. you didn’t act romantic, he was just like your bodyguard. well — your overly touchy bodyguard. his hands often found his way on your body to guide you through crowds and lead you places or simply hold you close when you were tired.

whenever you’d go somewhere without him, parting ways in your houses to get a drink and whatnot, he’d playfully slap your ass to shoo you away. it was meant ‘innocently’, or so you thought, but he did secretly love feeling it for the brief seconds he’d touch it.

rafe decided to make the brave decision of inviting you to one of kelce’s parties. you’ve been hanging off his arm the entire time, which earns some glances and whispers of ‘is that is girlfriend?’, only for the rumours to fizzle out when he’d be touching another girls waist whenever you were gone to the washroom.

sitting beside him while he deals coke on the low, he keeps his bicep around your shoulders as you chat up the people who want coke, because your sweet personality attracts business for your friend.

after about half an hour, you’re pawing at his salmon coloured polo and telling him that you’re gonna go get a drink. normally, he’d come with you, but he was in the middle of pouring a line for a girl with eyelashes that are falling off of the corners of her eye, so he just nods.

with a pat of your ass when you get up, sticking his hand up your skirt a little bit before you walk away, he barely notices all the confused stares in his direction. that is, until kelce is patting his back, saying, “bro! you finally bagged her, huh?”

he blinks. “the fuck d’you mean?”

“c’mon, man, smacking her little ass,”

“oh. no, we’re just friends, bro, just a.. habit, or whatever,”

topper chimes in. “dude, you don’t do that to friends. what, you hook up on the low or something? s’not normal to smack a friends ass, man,”

“me next, rafe?” kelce laughs.

“hey — bro, she’s coming, be chill,” rafe shoves his friends.

you come back and sit beside rafe again, blinking up at his annoyed face. “what?”

“no, nothing y/n, s’all good,”

“yo, y/n,” topper’s hand lands on your knee to get your attention and rafe pulls it off without thinking. “rafe smacks your ass, huh? think it’s normal?”

“gonna beat you with a golf club, man,” rafe mutters as you nod your head.

“yeah, why? he’s just teasing,”

topper and kelce laugh and you’re not sure why. all you can hope is that rafe doesn’t stop doing it anytime soon.

[boowritess]

part 2 lol

so apparently it's really fucking hard to get into the SAS. and ontop of that I've been getting tiktoks of people going around an army base asking why they joined. most responses were to pay off student loans, bills, school, (someone said there's was 6 years of prison or school and *mental note for idea*), the recruiter lied or spoilt them, barracks bunny.

141 (poly?) x notsobaddasssoldier!reader

and now i can't stop thinking of soldier!reader. who really half-assed their way through everything - only doing the job for the money and to pay off student loans + they had nothing better to do.

who somehow ends up being adopted by Price (kinda like Gaz i guess ???) all because reader happened to be in the right place at the right time and saved Price's ass while managing to complete a mission the Task Force were doing.

and it's not that you saved his ass or completed the mission that makes Price go *this is mine* - it's the fact that afterwards all you can say is-

"this shit is so not worth paying off my student loans."

"oh fuck i forgot to cancel my subscription. fuckk- waste of fucking money"

- all the while a building is burning in front of you but yeah just not at all concerned about what had just happened. so price just *grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you up, claiming you as part of his task force now.*

(lol you probably can't do that irl but this is fiction sooo suck my ass.)

and laswell's just like no... they are very much still green john. way too green. no.

but it's too late. he's already introducing you to the task force. singing your praises and you're just like

"man he promised to pay off my student loans and give me food." basically how ur recruiter got ya ass.

enough said. you get the whole off the books speech, saving the world by doing things others wouldn't like. but u couldn't give a rats ass - you should but nah...

and like... you know you're the rookie... you're still green... but some of the shit 141 do you just...

"so you just gonna kidnap the wife AND the child...? right... kid, you wanna watch bluey? here..."

"and you do this often...? crazy."

but you don't exactly protest. how could you with how much you get paid. you kinda just side-eye and look away when it's geta a lil crazy. *bombastic side-eye*

and the other 141 guys - oh my days. become just as enormed as price and want to start really trying to amplify your skills. but every time, they start explaining how to do things - the best way to go about a situation or how to fight a certain way.

you pull this face. like your top lip pulls back, your eyebrows scrunch together, and there's a slight frown on your lips as they speak. like you look confused/disgusted. but you don't even realise cause-

"why're you pulling that face?" 141

"that's... that's just my focusing face..."

"oh..." 141 feels bad

then when they do take you in feild you're shaking your head no. like you haven't been around that long. what the fuck? now you're bout to infiltrate an enemy base!?!?!

"can i just wait in the car?"

"no." price

"i'm gonna vomit."

"aim at the enemy." ghost

people think that because you're suddenly in this badass task force that surely they're just using you for your assets.

they all think you're the 141 barracks bunny. and maybe you should be pissed or annoyed or grossed out. but all you can do is sigh and pause from the burger price got you, and let out a long exhale.

"fuck... maybe i can just do onlyfans or be a pornstar... shit maybe it's not too late..."

"military is bascially sex work - selling my body..."

"not that different from what i'm doing now. body being used, check. body sore in the strangest places, check."

your tone so empty, blank and nonchalant, but there's a serious look in your eyes that when you grab your phone out to maybe do a little research on how you could do that, your phone is snatched from your hand by one of the guys and they walk out the room without a second look back.

with an annoyed huff, you go back to eating your burger. but suddenly, you turn to the person who genuinely thought you were a barracks bunny.

"hey you think if i be a barracks bunny i get out of missions and shit?"

"...that's not how it works..." rando.

"fuck."

and maybe you try...

like you go to price's office and the guys are already in there, chatting about something that you should really pay attention too but you can't be assed. instead you unashamedly start to speak...

"if i suck ya'll dicks can i get out the mission?"

"no. you still have to join." gaz says amused

"even if you-" *que long sigh from price* "even if you suck our dicks."

"that's fucked up. i should've done porn."

and with the most hurt and broken-hearted look on your face, you leave the office, closing the door with a dramatic sigh. the guys just stare at the door in... confusion, amusement, and maybe arousal if ya'll dig that

idk man just gimmie more soldier!reader who just really ain't the fucked, there for money, lowkey hungry and doesn't know what the fuck is happening. kinda a pet or little sibling energy that the 141 love.

bonus*

"wait so they aren't sucking our dicks?" *soap says getting slapped in the back of the head by ghost

a/n: brain is rottinnggg. i should be doing so much other shit but... cod just consumes my brain 24/7

[kalims]

⭒ㅤwith a disney princess

premise. surely there's been a mistake, cause there's no way someone out of place like you ended up at nrc, right? (spoiler alert: months later and they will fight whoever might drag you to rsa)

featuring. dorm leaders (from diasomnia to heartslabyul)

content. at best this might imply a female reader, given they're based of a 'princess' but I tried to take the gender vague and focused mainly on the qualities of them! mc has hair in the rapunzel part lol

note. no beta we die lol. I worked on this by group so i honestly don't remember if I accidentally gendered mc. I absolutely love idias part lmaoooo

malleus (aurora)

ooh intimidating x soft couple.

you look way out of place in somewhere like nrc of all places, given your mother is the infamous sleeping beauty (infamous, in the college’s standards that is.) your kindness is easily taken advantage of, even if you do realize it there is always forgiveness spared for the undeserving.

said kindness was extended to the quiet malleus.

surprise no surprise. he’s impeccably drawn to the sparkling aura you seem to exclude. malleus feels as though there are traces of familiar magic always hovering around you, like its embowed into your very being. a blessing would be a better word for it.

well, he’s just curious but if he were to ever ask he’d be met with the confirmation that you were, indeed blessed by the same three fairies your mother was blessed by (minus the curse… ironically he’s quite similar to the same lady that your mother loved and looked up to.)

he’s just fascinated. something as glittery as you, shiny like gold would’ve been whisked away to his nice tower, homey. he’d tell you. almost as if making its image seem heavenly. (lowkey highkey getting your consent for kidnapping)

animals always seem to flock around you everywhere you go, they sneak around to reach you. in your dorm, during lunch, even in class. there’s either a bird on your shoulder or a squirrel making itself comfortable atop your head. its a curious sight, critters don’t really like him much.

in short they run away, humans or animals alike are both afraid of his presence it seems.

so he’s incredibly still when you nudge an adorably round bird in his palm, peering at it with cautious eyes. tense as a statue lest it flies away.

cue staring contest.

he felt incredibly accomplished that day, and immersed him in the role of making this creature like him. leaving seeds, offering it the most sought off food from the valley, literally conjuring a small home for it. everything.

HE’S SO HAPPY.

malleus often asks of you to sing, perhaps its the blessing talking but its the most unique form of sound he’d ever heard in his life, the more he sings the more he wants to imbue his very being with the loveliness of your song.

always following you around like a lost puppy (lizard?) any evil that actually wants to take advantage of your unfortunate naive desire for peace and kindness is scared away. although malleus would never want your interactions to be reduced entirely because of him, he only starts looking like a demon one he figures out their motive is less than fitting for you.

“yeah, the ingredients were to complicated for me to remember—”

“oh! perhaps i can help you?”

spots the demon behind you (just your lovely giant staring them to their grave.)

“you know what i actually got it— sorry for wasting your time.” you watch them, confused as they dip.

you look to him, as though to ask what just happened but he merely casts you an oblivious glance and shrugs.

favorite past time → coddling you in his dragon form.

he was doubtful whether he should pull through in actually showing it to you, since you were already such an angel towards him. would it be a stretch if he let a selfish desire get in the way? perhaps you’d get scared if you see how large he is there—or if he’s—

idia (rapunzel)

okay that amazed smile on you was totally worth it.

wow your hair is fire.

he should have never made a comment about it in the first place because now you’re completely confused about his reference, were you living in like… in isolation? a cave? you’re a little less worse than the scarabia’s dorm leader when it comes to being oblivious.

just two idiots miscommunicating, he atleast is trying to make an effort to explain that he doesn’t mean it literally but his wording is so bad that you get absolutely nothing from what he is trying to infer.

okay your hair though.

“why is that person stuck in that square!?”

good thing ortho was near cause you almost charged towards a television and judging by the, pan!? in your grip you definitely would have smashed the screen trying to be righteous and rescue the character.

okay then. 1. don’t let you near electronics, specifically when its playing something.

you are a literal danger to his society. shivers

you’re always asking something like “what are those glowing balls on the ceiling?” those are lights… “why is that thing speaking?!” that’s a speaker… “why is it on fire?” oh that’s his hair, he doesn’t really know either it was just like that.

it does feel a little nice to get asked like that and he’d know the answer (its literally the most common knowledge ever but whtv)

EPIC! idia is now trying to figure out how resistant your hair is. its literally like, the most OP shield there is!

at first he had some reservations. like, used a knife once and was flabbergasted when it came back in half. your hair didn’t even move an inch. then he got motivated and tried a sharper sword, longer, and larger of course. he let ortho handle it cause he probably would have stabbed himself.

“wtf.”

flinches cause the half of the sharp end came completely off and stabbed right beside his head onto the wall.

what are the limits of it?! had some doubts before using one of the tech he came up with, it could literally cut through a diamond and he isn’t sure if its entirely safe but you’re all for it cause you were always curious whether your hair could even get cut in the first place.

anyway you’re way too happy to be near a lazer that could obliterate you and its kinda infecting him. yikes.

less than happy cause the lazer literally got reflected by your hair and hit itself so it’s just gone.

on the bright side he can use you as a scapegoat (in a good way)

alright. 2. don’t enrage you unless he wants to experience getting hit by a pan really hard.

wow. he felt that for days.

maybe its the hit or he’s just feeling a little woozy whenever you’re around.

definitely the pan.

vil (mulan)

bold x shy couple

pretty x pretty defender

he’s used to people heeding his suggestions but damn, are you a stubborn one.

not only have you not listened to his propositions for becoming a more refined person (cause the way you held yourself was too.. much for him to ignore, and it bothered him for a long time until he decided to help you.) but he can respect you, he supposes. not a lot of people can stay true to themselves.

it seems like epel, the boy himself has taking a liking to you. no wonder he’s been becoming more rebellious lately.

vil would never stoop so low to purposely direct someone advice that would change their entire self, decimate their unique traits. but all he told you was out of the goodness of his heart, if you’d be less clumsy of your ways your reputation would be better for the long run.

not being respected amongst nrc is never a good thing.

still, you’re still headstrong. never too overconfident, nor cocky. just a humble soul, that’s rare so he tends to stick by you if he ever wanted an honest opinion cause people just tell him what he wants to nowadays. vil never enjoyed the biased remarks.

more often than not he enjoys making your already pretty face, prettier than it is.

finds out you’re no bark and all bite, he never even knew you could take down someone who has an advantage over you in physical terms. come on, its savanaclaw. apparently the guy had spared him an unsavory comment and (apparently, in your defense. only told him a few words, got attacked so it was self defense.)

it came a surprise to him. seeing as you’re generally relaxed in nature, your military prowess a mystery to most since you seemed content with resorting matters with peace. though you seem to lack more restraint when it comes to your close relationships.

vil scolding you in the infirmary (you don’t have a scratch, and the guy whose pride you handed back to is in some corner lamenting cause he can hear you guys.) and you just taking it.

contrary to how you first treated to each other. you seem to be more prone to his opinions, or suggestions the more you progress with each other. he admits maybe he was too outright in his manner of speaking the first time, but it only highlights the change you’d gone through with each other.

you’re the perfect doll, in a way. not in a demeaning way or anything but its so satisfying to him to use products on your face just for the sole reason that you sit so still. his absolute favorite past time is skin care together even if you mostly just follow his lead.

you and epel must be kindred spirits, once he was on his way to retire to the indoors of pomefiore. seeing as it started raining, heavy so it meant it would stay for a while. and then paused when he spotted you both sharing words.

and planting apple seeds in the rain? both of you are stained with the rain, some dirt and mud alike. and vil had never looked so mortified. so just cause you don’t protest when he cares for you doesn’t mean you’re bothered by getting dirty he guesses.

“you both… clean yourselves up, i’ll brew medicine lest you fall under the weather.” ← disappointed sigh.

kalim (jasmine)

ended up waiting for you both to finish under the covers and ushered you both to baths.

you have a tiger!

just living char x their absolute biggest stan

wow you have a tiger.

did he mention you have a tiger?

majority of nrc knows not to mess with you haha, if it’s not obvious already with the seemingly lax tiger that behaves like some sort of overgrown cat following you around and growls at someone when you aren’t looking.

then you always raise a brow at the people who tell you otherwise. “bab doesn’t bite.”

kalim is lowkey highkey their biggest fan, i mean. jamil is having the worst year of his life dragging kalim away wherever you seem to be because the first apparent instinct of the boy is to try to pet the tiger cause it’s ‘cute’.

at some point jamil had to investigate your routine throughout the day, what you do, where you go at specific times like after classes conclude to make sure kalim doesn’t cross path with you.

well, not necessarily you but rather your… tiger. which is hard, honestly. you seem to visit scarabia a lot for a reason unknown. jamil would be suspicious you’d be planning something but all you really do is stay out on the balcony with your companion.

but alas, fate would have it otherwise.

“hi,” kalim blurts before he could remember his friend’s warning. you turn, along with your… also friend who watches him closely. you blurt out a greeting back, seeing as it’s courtesy, you seem to be amused at his fascinated eyes staring at your tiger.

“want a pet?” you offer, bab making sounds of protest.

jamil almost had a heart attack seeing the two of you attached by the hip, only calming down a few weeks later. seeing as your companion wouldn’t pose as much danger as he assumed, seeing as the tiger’s protectiveness started extending to the ray of sunshine.

rich couple ig. everyone overhears your conversations and doubles over. “i had a small statue of gold made for bab, for you.” and then a; “oh, thanks. but we already have a lot at home. hmm…”

actually it’s not really the manner of being attached, more like two following you. kalim, and then your cutie pie tiger.

your reserved nature in particular greatly contrasts kalim, yapper x listener i guess. although the object of his interest was initially because of bab, he might as well be another overgrown cat of yours cause he seems to love touch.

its concerning cause bab themselves felt challenged for your affection and when they spotted kalim’s head nestled on your lap they ‘accidentally’ kick him off.

in a way you seemed untouchable, pet included. you don’t seem to mind kalim much, people might even go as far as to say you enjoy his company. occasionally the vice of his dorm as well, the three of you have this sort of aura that screams ‘don’t approach’

said aura is in the form of a very big cat.

azul (ariel)

one time you admitted to having not much friends and three heads turned towards you. face twisted incredulously.

he doesn’t know why but you looked like you went through ten stages of grief (3 more cause the 7 definitely wasn’t enough.) when you took a glance at him, during the time you were looking around, you almost went past him, actually. but then doubled back immediately.

that’s concerning.

morally suspicious (devil in disguise) x angel

azul often asks your opinions out of habit, he himself isn’t even sure when it started but he considers you a factor in decisions. though he does prefer to keep you out certain… endeavors of his away entirely, no need to concern your innocence in his doings.

as such he often uses the twins to steer you away from trouble cause you seem to have no sense for it whatsoever, whenever there’s a fight brewing instead of walking off you stride closer. curious to whatever was happening.

and, you believe too easily apparently.

jade had held you by your shoulders and directed you away from the fight before the dispute reached you and inevitably dragged you in. “why are they fighting?”

he replied. “ah, well. they inhaled an unpleasant shroom and got affected.” your mortified face spoke you believed him. human culture! you thought.

your brain should be inspected honestly. floyd told him all about the pile of stuff you had “found” in your dorm, ranging from innocent collectibles to items that brought the question of whether or not they were really yours but you didn’t really claim otherwise, just that you found em’ so no more questioning.

azul doesn’t even wanna know why you started staring at mushrooms like they were a mortal enemy of all living forms. speaking of, the three of them didn’t even consider that you could be from the sea as well. seeing as, well. you have two feet, even if they have the same.

besides the fact you’re too clumsy for your own good you sure had no fear when you leapt overboard during a field trip cause a trinket that caught your eye fell and gave the entirety of the attendants a heart attack. floyd had patted him on the back and wishes him condolences.

also the shock of the century when you emerged, pretty tail and all. holding it the trinket up like you just found it the most fascinating thing on the globe.

since then underwater dates were a thing. which took a lot of prompting honestly, you didn’t know he was a merman either, curiously asking him what kind he was. in nature, you were persistent. like a need to sate your questions so he eventually relented.

even then, it took a while before he let you see the form. ← to his fluster you seemed engrossed in this form of his. swimming around him and asking questions.

now azul also have a small pile of items hidden in a box beneath his bed, all from you. which, upon being opened would be mistaken for unused items since its literally random stuff, and a concerning favor towards forks.

oh yeah. sometimes the tweels crash your date.

you could be in his office, going about your business. chilling on his couch and playing with one of your treasures and be completely unaware of the ominous discussion ongoing within the three about anemones? contracts?

“what are you guys talking about?”

“hairstyles for azul.”

“what—”

“ooh. i can brush his hair so you can style it!” pulls out a fork.

leona (belle)

“oh my sevens, WAIT—”

i was having a crisis trying to think of a dynamic so why not just, beauty x beast.

leona is less than pleased to admit he doesn’t like you much. or atleast, he used to. it was clear his feelings of you was reciprocated, based on the uninterested side glances you cast him. your type, well liked, pristine, proper, and informed reminds him all to well of what mold he was forced into. though it never really fit.

you on the other hand, just dislike him in general. more pointedly as to how he acted, too self righteous in your opinion. he sure spends a lot of time moping about how he could have been king when he’s acting like he’d be a terrible one. you’d say it to his face but even you aren’t too crude.

if you’re both looking at the bright side though, you’d probably prefer each other’s company above others. you’re quiet, perfect for napping around. he’s surprisingly true to himself, his morals aren’t too bad either.

as such, to your disdain he now naps in the library. which you had titled your own space, but he didn’t really just care.

relatively you’re a lot more cool headed than he is, you told him concerns about his laziness which he weaved through. after opening up with each other… well you know how it goes.

okay, fine. you no longer berate leona for napping at the public space, quickly shut up when he threatened you. “i’m gonna tell you the real reason ‘m here nowadays if you don’t calm down. and it ain’t the peace i’m here for.” he eyes you, and you shut up after that.

leona doesn’t know if he should be amused or annoyed at the fact that you stand up to whatever he says. ‘that’s rude,’ this. ‘are you out of your mind?’ that. at some point where he doesn’t wanna admit, leona had disliked seeing you upset (particularly towards him) that he started listening.

at others is a different story though. he will gladly watch you shut down someone else.

sometimes he makes weird remarks, like. “throw an egg at them, who knows might hatch into a chick and give them the company they’ve been lacking.” ← just bullies random people while you defend them. “what? don’t be stupid, eggs that are sold don’t hatch into chicks.”

you often lament in his arms, regretting ever coming near his sleeping frame cause next thing you know you’re subjected to prison, and you had accidentally dropped the book you were reading so even if you try to reach for it he’s pulling you back.

will reach for it if you ask tho lol.

just one look from you has him suddenly behaved tbh.

bothers your productive time by crashing it with his opposite word of productive idk im to lazy to check. more often than not tramples over your things, but always looks dead to life when you end up scolding him heavily.

also kicks out the animals that gravitate towards you for some reason, got jealous of a bird nestled in your hair once cause apparently you paid too much attention to it.

apparently told ruggie to fetch books for you when you’re running out, at that point you might actually milk the nrc library with how fast you burn through them.

“you’re not even from here, what do—”

“actually. originally from times before, they—”

riddle (cinderella)

got lectured about history, eugh.

easy to fluster x enthusiastic and sweet

how are you so nice.

you’ve got most of the population of nrc enamored with your natural charm alone, though some do tend to mock you. unfortunately they aren’t wrong, you really do fit in more at a different school like rsa with your personality.

i mean you fit the bill, kind, pretty, talks to animals.

good for you though. cause riddle would prefer a behaved student than a troublesome one anyway so he would definitely dig you lmao.

speaking of. he definitely goes to you whenever the hedgehogs are lost in the maze, or the flamingos just don't wanna step out the farther spot from the pond, somehow they love you in whatever you do.

as in, you spoke to the hedgehogs with a lower tone. almost like a coo, and he almost tells you to stop because that's the universal worse tone to talk to hedgehogs until... it nuzzles into you?!

flabbergasted, he can only watch.

sevens... you're just so pleasant to be around he could die.

at some point it felt like you were the epitome of being kind. riddle understand that the virtue was just embedded into you, letting others berate you for whatever... he even thought you were too kind for a place like nrc where the complete opposite traits are admired.

you are, but only to those who deserve it. riddle had the pleasure to spot you nitpicking a crude student and they looked like they were gonna burst into tears.

so... you knew what to say almost always. when troubled, he'd learn that it's best to talk to you cause you'd know what to say to ease his worries, when you're treated wrongly? sevens.. you also know what to say.

but, in a putting whoever in their place way?

(idk man I'm just rambling at this point lmao idk how to write a cinderella reader.)

riddle has grown accustomed to random critters breaking in the door. well, he was used to animals in the first place. or atleast thought he was when he opened a door in the dorm and almost yelled at the sight of a group of mice looking like they were having conspiracies.

a few weeks after that he knocked on doors before opening them.

was also very disturbed when you announced they were your friends.

I don't know. I feel like he'd lowkey be the type to write your name in a heart on the back of his notebook and straighten his face like: 'what in the world am I doing' but not erasing it anyways.

over time, your little 'friends' got used to him, and vice versa. at the very least he isn't screaming at their sudden visits, be it flying through the window or just popping out of something they climbed on.

who's screaming though are his dorm members, and he's found humors in the encounters.

"ah, thank you, myrcella." he nods gingerly, toward the very tiny white mice who seems to twirl around, touched by the thanks. the little thing was nice enough to carry the pen he'd been using to scribble down the main definitions he'd been copying from the textbook.

in the middle of reaching for a glass of water the door opens, riddle watches one of his residents striding in rambling. probably about to be exposed to the sight of a group of mice sleeping on top of each other atop a cushion he'd personally placed for them.

and maybe the birds. whom seemed comfortable by his small collection of plants.

"dorm leader, octavinelle stude—GAHHHH—"

[prael]

The Hardest Question Ever ASSked

Le Sserafim Chaewon, Kazuha and Yunjin x male reader smut

Masterlist word count: 5,851 Kofi(donations/commissions)

"So, which one of these two do you think has the best ass?"

Yunjin has this penchant for asking the most inappropriate questions at the most random of times. The conversation was in a whole different place; Chaewon was explaining why the second Harry Potter film is by far the best one when suddenly...

"Oh my god," Kazuha immediately covers her eyes, sinking her head into her hands.

"What?" Yunjin blinks with innocence.

Chaewon can only groan in response. She sometimes wonders what goes on inside the minds of her group members, especially after that time Yunjin casually asked to compare their favourite toys (and now she is struggling to get the mental image of Yunjin slipping in a butt plug each morning out of her head. Apparently she has a whole range of sizes) but still, it feels like their constant effort to test how far they can go with each other has no end in sight.

"We all have pretty nice butts," Chaewon adds, the need to fill the awkward silence quickly becoming dire.

"Boring answer," Yunjin turns up her nose and pouts. Then her eyes fall on you. "Come on, you spend more than enough time staring, which is it?" she teases.

And look, you have thoughts, of course you do, but you're too coy to spill them out into the open for these three to scrutinize. So you joke, "We all know it's me." Only Kazuha laughs—that girl laughs at your every word.

Yunjin narrows her eyes, her attention like a hungry lion's before its prey. She asks in a challenging tone, "Why are you avoiding the question?"

You have learned very quickly that a game you can never win is against Yunjin, that woman is relentless with her prodding, so you change strategies. "What does it matter who has the nicest ass? Asses are so subjective."

"Stop being so political."

Chaewon senses blood in the water and joins in on pushing you for an answer, "Okay, so, subjectively, which one do you like the most?"

You slump back into your chair as the three girls sit forward expectantly. Yunjin is directly across from you, wrapping her lips around the straw for her coffee as she stares through you, practically daring you to bullshit her with a non-answer. Chaewon is wide-eyed on your right, and Kazuha still has her hand nervously over her mouth.

You have an answer, you know which one you like the most. But you also know that as soon as you say it, the other might kill you.

So, you pick the one that will give the best reaction. See, Chaewon is competitive, right down to the bone. Meaning that when you answer, "Kazuha," she looks about ready to burst a blood vessel.

"What!" she spits, the other two girls bursting into laughter. "I'm the one with the best ass!"

Kazuha has this whole smug look going on, it's not one she uses often, but to tease Chaewon? You don't blame her.

"Oh yeah, you think that's funny? I'll show you whose ass is the best," Chaewon threatens.

"It must be all the squats," Yunjin chimes in.

"Shut up," Chaewon growls at her.

Kazuha leans back in her chair and shrugs, "No need to be jealous. Yours is great too, Chaewon. You work really hard, and it shows."

"Don't try to suck up now, Kazuha."

You watch the whole exchange in silence. This is what happens almost every time Yunjin calls you over to have lunch, and it is always an entertaining time.

"Alright, so what about thighs? Which ones are the best?" Yunjin continues.

"Kazuha," you answer, and Kazuha is practically glowing, "I mean, have you seen how toned her thighs are?"

You turn to Chaewon, a smirk on your face so evil, "Sorry, Chae."

"Alright! That's it!" Chaewon shouts, jumping up from her chair, her eyes burning with determination. Her hands are at the waist of her jeans, popping open the button. "If you won't admit mine are the best, I'll have to prove it to you."

Yunjin sighs, her hand on her chin, and she shakes her head. "Here we go again."

You can feel yourself blush a bit, the way you always do when this happens, even though the four of you have had these lunches dozens of times, and Chaewon has always tried to show off her body at some point. She wiggles her jeans off her hips, sliding them down to reveal her black, lacy thong.

"Well?" she poses, turning to the side to show off her ass, "What about now?"

You are certain the three of you are all thinking the same thing—her body is unbelievable—but nobody is going to stroke her ego like that.

"Oh yeah, definitely Kazuha's," you shrug, trying not to let your gaze linger.

"What?!"

It draws a loud laugh from Yunjin, who's hitting the palm of her hand against her thigh as she wheezes. Kazuha, who is usually the shy one of the bunch, can't help but join in on the laughter.

"Fuck you," Chaewon snaps at you, "And fuck you too!" She turns on her heel and points at Kazuha.

Kazuha is still laughing, and she has her head turned away from Chaewon, but you can see her smile grow wider. She's teasing, "Oh come on, Chaewon, it's okay. You look cute."

"I'll show you cute," Chaewon growls, her hand coming down hard on the table. It makes the cutlery rattle, and the three of you glance between yourselves before a shared giggle bubbles up again.

You look up at Chaewon, who has a scowl on her face. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and her jaw is tense. She has one hand on her hip, her fingers digging into her skin, and the other is gripping the table so hard that her knuckles have gone white. Her body is stiff, the only movement being the rise and fall of her chest. Her face is flushed, either with embarrassment or frustration or both, and her lips are parted, letting her breaths pass through.

Her skin is smooth and soft, and when she moves, you can see the muscles ripple under it. She's so lean, so slender, but there's an undeniable strength behind her.

"What, got something to say?" Chaewon bites, noticing your stare.

"Uh," you fumble, your eyes flitting down her body before shooting up to her face again. "Just, um," you clear your throat, trying to shake yourself out of this trance, "Are you gonna leave your jeans off?"

"Until you realise how wrong you are, yes."

"Okay," you chuckle, then return to sipping on your drink.

"So, are we going to go through the rest of the list? Boobs? Which one's the best?" Yunjin can barely speak for her stifled laughter.

Chaewon huffs, then folds her arms across her chest. She pushes her tits together, the low-cut t-shirt working wonders to showcase her cleavage. "Mine," she states proudly.

"Kazuha."

"I can't with you two," Chaewon whines. "What the fuck?"

"You can't win against me," Kazuha says simply.

Chaewon's glare switches between the three of you. She looks like a wild animal ready to pounce. A dangerous, sexy, wild animal.

"You're all fucking useless," she mutters under her breath, turning on her heel. "I'll be right back."

You watch as she stomps off in her underwear and boots, leaving the three of you alone.

"That was fun," Yunjin smirks, sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs. She looks at you and says, "You've got a mean streak. I love it."

"I just like riling her up," you smirk.

"I noticed."

Kazuha giggles, then takes another sip from her cup. You can't help but watch her. Her dark hair is tied up in a messy bun, and even without makeup, she is beautiful. There is a softness to her, an air of innocence, that you can't quite place.

"What are you looking at?" Kazuha asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," you shrug.

"I see the way you look at her," Yunjin says with a wink. "Got you thinking about something, huh?"

"Yeah," you say, not knowing how else to respond.

"I bet it's filthy," Yunjin continues. "How long has it been since you two hooked up, again?"

"Too long," Kazuha answers.

"Oh yeah," Yunjin smiles. "Guess I've been a little greedy recently."

"Just a little," Kazuha giggles, her cheeks dusted with red.

"Stop being so shy and ask him then," Yunjin nods in your direction.

"I'm back!" Chaewon announces, turning heads.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" Yunjin asks.

It's nothing but skimpy lingerie. It's black and lacy, hugging her curves perfectly, and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Her thong cuts deep between her ass cheeks, and the bra pushes her tits up, not that much is needed. The fabric is sheer, and you can see the dark peaks of her nipples through it.

She's leaning on the doorway as she speaks, "I wasn't going to half-ass it, was I?" Oh, Chaewon, even as you stand there, looking like a whole meal, you still can't resist a good pun. "So," she continues, sauntering over and leaning down, placing her hands on the table and getting in your face. "Have you come to your senses yet?"

You glance away, to look across the table at Yunjin, who's got her eyes fixed on Chaewon's ass and is telling her, "Yeah, no doubt I'm definitely kinda gay. Your butt looks amazing."

"Need more convincing?" Chaewon is looking down her nose at you, a devilish grin spreading across her face.

"More convincing," you repeat.

Chaewon steps between you and the table, pushing the arms of your chair and struggling to move it back.

"W-what are you doing?"

"Convincing." Chaewon turns to the table, puts her chest flat against it and arches her back, giving you the most brazen display. "Is it working?"

"It's..."

"Working," Yunjin finishes for you as she stands up to admire the view.

You take a moment to appreciate her, the way she's bent over the table, the way her ass looks so round and perfect. The way her thighs are toned and muscular, and the way they press together, gives her just a little more shape. You want to touch her, to reach out and run your hands along her smooth skin.

"I'd let her sit on my face," Yunjin whispers as if she could read your mind.

"Oh yeah, for sure," Kazuha adds.

"Would you two shut up? I'm trying to get my point across."

"Don't let us stop you."

Chaewon lets out an irritated sigh, then gets up and sits herself down in your lap. Her hips roll forward, and you can feel her warmth. You can't help yourself, you slip a hand around her waist and rest it on her stomach.

"Do you like this?" Chaewon asks, her voice low and seductive. She leans back, letting her head rest against your shoulder, her breath hot on your ear. "How about this?" She shifts her hips, grinding her ass against your crotch. You bite back a moan, your fingers digging into her flesh.

"You know," Yunjin says, watching as Chaewon continues to rub her ass against you, "We could have a lot more fun with this."

"What do you mean?" Kazuha asks, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

"Well," Yunjin's eyes flick over to meet yours. "If you're not gonna fight for your spot, our friend here might change his mind. How about a competition?"

"Competition?" Chaewon repeats.

"I'm talking a showdown," Yunjin explains, a wide grin on her face. Chaewon is staring blankly at her, and Yunjin rolls her eyes. "Ass vs ass. Who's got the better booty?"

"I'm in," Chaewon immediately agrees.

"What?" Kazuha squeaks.

"Oh, come on. You're not going to back down, are you?"

"No, I'm not," Kazuha states, standing up.

"You don't have to do this," you tell them.

"Shut up," Chaewon shoots back, a smirk on her face.

"Let's settle this once and for all," Yunjin declares. She pulls the table away, leaving you in the middle of the dining room with Chaewon on your knee. She pulls Kazuha to her feet and stands in front of her. Their eyes are locked on each other, both looking nervous. You can't take your eyes off them, especially when Yunjin slides her hands down Kazuha's abs. "First, let's catch you up, get you out of these clothes.

Yunjin hooks her fingers into the waistband of Kazuha's jeans and starts to pull them down, revealing the soft, creamy skin of her thighs. Kazuha lifts her feet out of her shoes and pants, leaving her standing in a pair of white panties.

"Damn, girl, you look good," Yunjin purrs, running her hands along Kazuha's thighs, squeezing the soft flesh.

Meanwhile, Chaewon turns her attention to you, first by pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it aside, then moving on to undoing the buttons on your pants. You're already achingly hard, from having her ass grinding against you, her hands on you, and her scent filling your nostrils. She stands up and steps back, allowing you to stand and drop your pants, then step out of them, leaving you only in your boxers.

"Looks like someone is ready," she teases, looking at the bulge.

You blush, embarrassed, but you can't help the way your cock twitches at her words.

"Alright," Yunjin calls.

The two girls are standing side by side now. Yunjin has sat you down and is standing behind you, her hands on your shoulders, her breath hot on the back of your neck. She's looking between the two girls, taking in their bodies, her eyes filled with lust. Kazuha is biting her lip, her hands clasped together in front of her, her body stiff.

"First, let's see who can move their ass better. Show off what you've got," Yunjin commands.

Chaewon is the first to act, bending over and shaking her hips. Her ass is swaying from side to side, her hips moving in circles, and her ass jiggling with every motion. Her back is arched, her legs straight, and her thighs pressed together, giving her ass the perfect shape.

"Nice," Yunjin whistles.

Kazuha takes a deep breath. She turns to show you her ass, putting her arms above her head and swaying her hips. She doesn't have the same confidence as Chaewon, but her ass still looks great.

"Fuck yeah," Yunjin says, her hand trailing down your chest and stomach.

"You think that's good?" Chaewon huffs. "Watch this."

She backs up towards you, stopping when her ass is almost touching your crotch, and leans back, arching her back. Her ass is pushed out, the curves and lines of her body on display. She places her hands on her ass cheeks and then starts to squeeze and knead her flesh, moaning softly as she does so.

"Fuck, that's hot," Yunjin breathes.

"Don't stop," you gasp.

Kazuha has renewed fight, stepping and dropping her ass against your lap. It's all in the hips, the way she moves, and how her body rolls. It's different from Chaewon, there's a grace to it and a fluidity. She turns, looking back at you, her eyes full of fire, her lips curled into a sly smile. You know that look. It's like a switch is flicked inside her.

"Fuck," you groan, reaching out to grab her, to pull her closer.

Kazuha leans forward, her back arched, and you draw her thick ass towards your cock. Soon enough, Chaewon follows, and you become the filling of an ass sandwich.

"Oh fuck, that looks good," Yunjin says, her hand sliding beneath your waistband and grabbing your cock. She starts to stroke it, slow and steady, teasing the tip with her thumb. But, as their assets draw closer, Yunjin is forced to relinquish, the girls taking hold of your cock between their asses, and rubbing their cheeks against you.

"Ahh, fuck, that's so fucking hot," you moan.

"Yeah, baby, you like that?" Yunjin purrs in your ear.

"God yes," you breathe, your head falling back against her chest.

Chaewon laughs, a smug sound, "He's definitely loving mine."

"In your dreams," Kazuha hisses.

"What was that?"

"I said," Kazuha pushes her ass, to slide your length between her cheeks, rubbing along the fabric of her thong, "He likes my ass more."

"I don't think so," Chaewon shoots back, fighting for position. The girls are ass to ass, cheeks squishing against each other. Your cock is caught between them, and they both start to rock their hips, the friction making you hiss.

"You're both driving me crazy," you moan.

"Yeah?" Chaewon smirks.

"How about this," Kazuha adds, her hips moving faster, and her ass squeezing tighter. It's all matched and challenged by Chaewon, who's moving her hips, and rocking her ass, and doing everything she can to keep up.

This whole thing is fucking ludicrous, don't get it twisted. This is the most insane thing you have ever seen, or done. Two gorgeous women, two insanely sexy asses, both fighting for a chance to prove that theirs is the best. And you're right there, between them, your cock assaulted by the most amazing sensation.

"How are we going to settle this?" Chaewon growls, her ass grinding hard against your cock.

"I'm not stopping until he cums," Kazuha shoots back, her ass moving even faster.

"Me either," Chaewon huffs.

"Wait, wait, stop," you gasp, to no avail. The girls just keep on grinding, keep on rocking, keep on fighting.

"Shh," Yunjin purrs, her hands roaming your chest, and her lips ghosting across the back of your neck. "Let them have their fun."

You moan, your body tense, your cock throbbing between their asses. The girls are panting, their breath heavy, and their bodies slick with sweat. Their skin is hot, their bodies flushed, and their hearts pounding.

"He's getting close," Chaewon smirks, "I can feel it."

"For me," Kazuha insists.

"I'm doing all the work," Chaewon snaps back, her hips rolling faster, and her ass pressing harder.

"Stop, fuck," you hiss, feeling your cock throb, feeling that familiar sensation rising in the pit of your stomach.

"Tell me it's for me. Cum for me, baby."

"No, for me. He's cumming for me," Kazuha shoots back.

And then, it hits. It's an explosion, your body jerking, your muscles spasming. Your head is thrown back, a groan ripped from your throat, and your hips bucking wildly.

"That's it," Chaewon smirks, looking over her shoulder. "I did it. He's cumming because of me."

"No, me," Kazuha pouts, turning her head.

You spill over them, thick, hot cum spraying all over their asses and backs, leaving sticky ropes of white across their smooth, flawless skin.

"F-fuck," you gasp, trying to catch your breath.

"Holy shit," Yunjin murmurs, "That was... fuck.

"It's mine," Chaewon says, her tone cocky and arrogant.

"No, it's mine," Kazuha growls.

The two of them continue their argument, but you can barely hear them. Your body is still recovering, your mind reeling, and your heart racing. What a fucking rush.

"Who's got the best ass? Well," Yunjin chuckles, "It's a tie if you ask me."

"A tie?" Chaewon repeats.

"Yeah, a tie."

"Well, I'm not calling it a tie," Kazuha says.

"Me either," Chaewon huffs, standing upright and glaring at the other woman.

"You're both pretty great," Yunjin states, her hand on your shoulder.

"Kazuha is great, me? I'm perfect."

"Okay," Yunjin sighs. "There's still something he needs to test. You can't decide on the best ass without fucking them both."

"What?" Chaewon and Kazuha gasp at the same time.

"You get five minutes each, then swap. First to make him cum is the winner."

"Deal," Chaewon and Kazuha say simultaneously, their gazes burning into each other.

"Well then," Yunjin says, standing up. "Over the table girls."

You're still fucking out of it. Slumped in the chair while Yunjin guides them over the table, bent at the waist and presenting their asses to you. The girls are draped in your cum, and Yunjin has the task of plucking off their underwear, leaving them bare and naked. Then she comes and pulls you to your feet, positioning you behind Chaewon.

"Cum in whichever feels the best, okay? Wait here a minute." Yunjin runs off to the bedroom, giving Chaewon a chance to bargain with you.

"Come on, you know I've got the better ass. And you know what it can do for you. Just think of all the other times you've fucked my ass. Don't tell me you want Kazuha's ass instead?"

"Uh," you mumble.

"Oh come on," she wiggles her ass, "Look at this."

"Sorry," Yunjin says, reappearing with a bottle in her hand. "Gotta do this right." Yunjin takes a blob of lube in her hand and rubs it onto your cock. It's cold, and it makes you shudder. Then she takes some and rubs it onto Chaewon's ass.

"Fuck," she squeaks, her body trembling.

"Ready?" Yunjin asks.

"Y-yeah."

"Five minutes, go!"

Yunjin pushes you by the hips toward Chaewon, not that you need any encouragement to slip your length between her cheeks.

"That's it, fuck me. Come on, baby. Let's see whose ass feels better."

It's slow to begin, pushing your way into her little asshole. She's still so tight, and even with the added slick, it takes a bit of effort. But she's warm and snug around your cock, and her ass is perfect.

"Fuck, I forgot how big you were," she moans, her voice strained.

"She can't even take it," mocks Kazuha.

"Shut up, I can," Chaewon bites back. "Go on, deeper."

Yunjin has her hand on your hip, guiding you deeper and deeper until you bottom out. Her ass is pressed right against your hips, and she's whimpering. You give her a few moments to adjust before starting to move, pulling out slowly, then pushing back in. You're stretching her out, forcing her to accommodate your length, and her hole is clenching around you.

"Fuck, I love the feeling of your cock," she gasps.

"We all do," Kazuha says flatly.

"Not as much as I do," Chaewon pants.

"Come on, you can fuck her faster," Yunjin whispers in your ear.

So you pick up the pace, your hips moving, and your cock thrusting deep into her. She's moaning and writhing beneath you, her ass shaking with every impact, her body trembling. You can't stop yourself, you're pounding her hard, slamming your cock deep inside her. The cum on her cheeks is smeared, making the sight even more filthy.

"Shit," she groans, her ass bouncing back against your hips.

You're lost in her, fucking her hard and fast, making her take every inch of you. You're grunting, your balls slapping against her skin, and your cock stretching her hole. You're losing control, the sounds of your fucking filling the room.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me cum," she moans.

"You're such a slut," Kazuha hisses.

"Oh fuck," Chaewon cries, her ass clenching around your cock, her body convulsing, and her pussy dripping. "Oh my god, fuck," she screams, her whole body tensing, and her eyes rolling back.

"Holy shit," you gasp, your cock throbbing and twitching.

"Alright, time's up," Yunjin says, grabbing you and pulling you away from her.

"What the fuck, no, don't stop," Chaewon pleads.

"Swap," Yunjin demands, shoving you towards Kazuha.

You stumble forward, your cock aching and throbbing. You're still sensitive, and the sudden change has your head spinning. Yunjin covers you again with more lube and slaps your ass to let you know to begin.

Kazuha's chest is flat on the table, her cheek pressed against the wood, and her hands gripping the edge. She turns to look at you, her eyes full of silent desire. There's an arch to her back, and her ass is perfectly presented, just waiting for you to enter her.

"Take her," Yunjin whispers and her hand pushes down on your hip.

You step forward, the tip of your cock pressing against her asshole. You can see her muscles tensing, and she lets out a soft moan as you push into her. She's even tighter than Chaewon, her body squeezing and gripping your cock. She's not nearly as experienced, her reactions are more innocent.

"Oh," she gasps, her body shivering, "That's... that's really good."

You grab her hips, your fingers digging into her flesh, and you push deeper, feeling her asshole stretch and open up for you. She lets out a sharp cry, and you pause, giving her a moment to relax.

"Keep going," she pleads, her voice thick with lust.

You start to move, sliding out of her and then pushing back in. She's hot and tight around you, and her muscles are contracting, squeezing and clenching, pulling you deeper into her.

"Oh my god, it's so good," she moans.

Her eyes are closed, and her mouth is open, and her body is quivering. You keep going, thrusting harder and deeper, until you're buried in her ass. She lets out a long, low moan, and you can feel her trembling.

"She can barely take it," Chaewon laughs.

"Don't listen to her," Kazuha pleads, looking over her shoulder at you. "Just keep going, please."

You groan a response and start to pound her harder. Sticky flesh slapping together, your hands holding her steady, and her cries filling the room. You're fucking her rough, and she's taking every inch of you. It feels incredible, and the pleasure builds, your cock throbbing and aching.

"Come on, cum for me," she whines.

"Fuck, you're so sexy," you gasp, your hips bucking. Just one slap of her ass and it's marked already, red and pink from the impact.

"You're close," she whimpers.

"Keep going," Yunjin encourages. "Two minutes or they both lose."

Your whole body is trembling, and your head is spinning. Your cock is so hard and aching, and your balls are tight. Your hips are bucking, and you're fucking her with abandon, her ass taking every inch.

"Come on," she begs.

You groan, and then you're there, your whole body shuddering, and your cock pulsing and throbbing, emptying your cum into her ass. As soon as Chaewon sees that look on your face, she knows she's lost. She whines a defeated sound and slumps against the table.

Kazuha is the one smiling though, and as she stands, you notice her knees are a bit weak. "I win," she announces, a little triumphant.

"You cheated," Chaewon pouts.

"How the hell did I cheat?"

"I don't know, you just did." Chaewon's got that little pouty expression stuck to her face, and she swears her revenge. "Next time, I'll beat you. You'll see."

"If you say so," Kazuha smiles, looking at the mess leaking from her ass. You're stumbling back and Yunjin is your support, keeping you steady.

Yunjin is in your ear, "You've still got another round in you, right?"

"I don't know," you pant.

"You, me and the shower. Think about it."

"Yeah," you manage, and then her hand is on your arm, leading you to the bathroom.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Chaewon demands, her hands on her hips.

"Shower," Yunjin calls, dragging you along. "You girls caused this mess, you can clean up. Maybe even lick his cum off each other's asses."

"No, don't leave," Chaewon whines.

But, it's too late, the door is closing, and Yunjin is pushing you up against the wall. "You know," she whispers, her hands on your chest and her body pressed against yours, "I'm kinda turned on."

"Yeah?"

"Watching them fight over you was so hot."

"Yeah, it was," you admit.

"So," she presses her lips to yours, kissing you hungrily, and slipping her tongue into your mouth.

You return her passion, your hands running up her body, and down her back. She breaks the kiss, and looks up at you, a coy smile on her lips.

"Let's have a little fun," she murmurs, reaching behind her and turning on the shower. The water flows, steam fills the air, and Yunjin steps under the stream, letting it cascade over her naked body.

"Fuck," you gasp.

"What's the matter?" she teases, grabbing the bottle of soap and squirting it onto her chest. She lathers up her chest, spreading the foamy liquid over her smooth skin, her nipples hardening as the suds run down her body.

"You're gorgeous," you say, stepping towards her.

She grabs you by the hips, pulling you close, her hands roaming your body. Her skin is slick with soap, her touch gentle and teasing. She's looking up at you, her eyes filled with desire.

"Are you ready?" she whispers, her voice husky.

"Always," you grin, cupping her breasts and kneading them in your hands.

"Fuck," she sighs, leaning into you, her eyes closed, and her body relaxed.

You kiss her, tasting her lips, your tongue sliding against hers. She moans, her hands trailing down your back, and her nails digging into your skin.

"Mmm, so good," she murmurs, breaking the kiss and looking up at you. "All this anal stuff has got me thinking, maybe it's time we tried something new."

"Really?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't think it was ever really your thing? You always said a butt plug was enough."

"I've been practising," she winks.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Maybe it's best if I show you."

"Oh," you grin.

"So," she purrs, wrapping her arms around your neck and pressing her body against yours. "You want to see what I can do?"

"Fuck yes," you breathe, a rush of excitement running through your body.

She smiles, biting her lip and pulling away from you. She turns her back to you, facing the wall, and places her hands flat on the tile. She arches her back, and you watch as she spreads her legs and bends further and further over. Her ass is sticking out, her perfect, plump cheeks inviting you in.

You can't help yourself. You kneel behind her, grab her cheeks and spread them wide. She lets out a soft moan, and you press your face into her ass, inhaling her sweet scent.

"Fuck," you groan, kissing her puckered hole.

"Mmm," she moans, pushing her ass back into your face.

"That feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes," she whispers, her breath hitching in her throat.

You tease her with your tongue, licking her asshole, and swirling the tip around the rim. She shivers, and you push a finger into her, probing her, exploring her. She's so tight, and the sounds she's making are driving you wild.

"Please," she begs, her voice a desperate whisper. "Please fuck me."

"Are you sure?" you ask, a hint of surprise in your voice.

"Yes," she says, looking back at you. "I've been thinking about this for a long time, and I'm finally ready."

"You don't have to, we can just have a regular fuck."

"No," she insists, her eyes blazing. "I want to try it, and I want you to be the one to do it."

"Fuck," you growl, pulling your finger out of her ass and standing up. You press the tip of your cock against her, and she whimpers. A shiver runs through her, and her hands ball into fists. There's this tension in the air, and her breathing is shallow and fast. Utterly shameless, she reaches back and pulls her asscheeks apart, opening herself up for you.

"Come on," she whimpers. "Do it. Put it in."

You press against her, your cock throbbing, and her asshole quivering. You push, and she gasps, her muscles tightening, her body tensing. But she doesn't pull away. You push again, harder, and her asshole starts to give way, stretching and opening for you. She lets out a strangled cry, her ass clenching around your cock, as the first few inches slip into her. You can go no further. No amount of practice could prepare her for this.

"You're so tight," you groan.

"It hurts," she whines, her body trembling.

"Just relax, okay?"

"I can't," she moans, her muscles straining.

"Just breathe," you say, stroking her back and ass.

She takes a deep breath, and then another, and then a third. You can feel her body relaxing, her muscles loosening, her asshole stretching.

"That's it," you encourage, pushing deeper into her. "How's that? Better?"

"Yes," she whispers, her eyes rolling back in her head.

You slowly start to move, thrusting in and out of her ass. She's so tight, her body gripping your cock like a clenched fist. Her moans fill the room, echoing off the tiles.

"Fuck," she hisses, her head hanging low, her shoulders hunched. Yunjin has always been the hold-out. Her anal virginity has eluded you, but not any more. Finally, all the best asses in K-pop are willing to take you. There's nothing better.

"Fuck," she groans, her nails scraping against the tiles. "Harder."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she pants.

You grab her hips and start fucking her harder, it's still tough to get more than half of your length inside her, but what she's taking is driving her crazy.

You hook a hand underneath her, past her toned stomach to play with her pussy. She's soaked, dripping with lust, her clit hard and swollen. You tease her, stroking and rubbing her, and she cries out, her whole body tensing.

"You're gonna make me cum," she gasps, her hips bucking against your hand.

"Not until I say so," you growl. She whimpers, her ass tightening around your cock, her legs trembling. You lean forward, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back. "Who am I?" you snarl, fucking her ass harder.

"Ah," she whines, her voice strained. "You're...you're my daddy."

"That's right," you growl, your cock throbbing. "Now cum for me."

You rub her clit, and she cums, her whole body convulsing, and her pussy gushing. It's a powerful orgasm, and she's shaking and crying out, her ass squeezing your cock like crazy. She grows weak, barely able to stand and take it. You pull out, let her fall to her knees, and then take hold of her hair to face you.

She's looking up at you with this expression like she's drunk, or high. A good ass fucking and she is a mess. A happy mess. One that's perfect to be coated in your load.

You stroke yourself, staring down at her, and her eyes widen, her lips parted and waiting. You grunt a shudder runs through you, and your cock erupts. Thick ropes of cum splatter across her face, covering her cheeks, her lips, and her nose. She's whimpering, stroking her tits and moaning out words of pure filth for you. "So much cum for your favourite girl. We both know those two don't stand a chance against me."

She's a mess. She's a hot, filthy mess. You step back, admiring her, a smug satisfaction filling your mind while she licks your cum from around her mouth. "Don't get complacent," you tease.

"Never."

[alpaca-clouds]

Let's quickly talk about the Vows of Chastity

Another thing I have been asked about is the entire thing with the Vows of Chastity, given that a lot of the American Christian sects do not have that, while for the Catholics it is a really big deal.

So, generally speaking pretty much anyone who wants to really join the institution of the church (with a few rare exceptions) will swear at least three vows:

The Vow of Chastity

The Vow of Poverty

The Vow of Obedience

Details may vary depending on what order you join. After all, the Catholic church is basically divided into a variety of different orders, and some of them have additional rules. (Some orders have also stuff like a Vow of Servitude, or a Vow of Hospitality, and other specific vows. Though in Mizrak's case the Order of St. John had only those same three Vows, with them being fairly well known to not fully enforce the vow of Poverty a whole lot.)

If you now wonder, why the Catholics have this and so many other Christian groups do not: St. Paul.

If you are not really firm with your bible, there is the following thing you need to know. Generally speaking a lot of the bigoted stuff in the bible shows up in the old testament. Then Jesus comes around and is like: "Yeah, no, forget about that. We make new rules." Then Jesus dies, and then a guy named Paul shows up, establishes a lot of the basics for the church and he is like: "Yeah, actually, fuck other religions, women and gays specifically." And he also basically made rules for apostles, that then were turned into the rules for priests and monks. And from those writings come the three vows as above.

The Vow of Chastity originated with a Vow of Celebacy, which sounds like the same, but was not quite. See, the Vow of Celebacy was originally about priests and monks not marrying, because they are basically married to God. Of course, because back in the day you are not supposed to have sex outside of marriage, this meant automatically that you were not supposed to have sex. But of course this needed to be made a bit more... clear.

Now, as Maria so rightfully says in season 1: It is rather well known that priests cannot keep it in their pants.

I have grown up Catholic, with my mother being very, very active within the church. I mean, heck, I privately met one of the popes in my childhood, just for reference how much I got roped into the entire thing.

And what I can tell you from that is: There is a lot of stuff happening within Catholic organizations based on this. "Oh, this priest has had a lover." And: "Oh, did you know Priest XY is actually in a committed relationship with his housekeeper?" And: "Bishop XY has a child out of wedlock!" And of course the classic: "When those bishops went to the Vatican there was a gay sex party!!!!"

And that is without going into the entire thing with the rape happening under Catholic organisations.

Now, at the time when both Castlevania and Castlevania: Nocturne take place, it happened that adults joined monestaries and such, but for the most part people joined in their childhood or youth. The high positions in the Church were often taken by the third or forth child of some nobles (the first one has to marry well, the second one will be kept as a backup - given high mortality - but then, because nobility and clergy were very connected, the third son usually would become a bishop or something). And lower ranking positions within the church were often filled with both orphans, and the later surviving kids of poorer families that could not afford anything else.

Today, of course, things are different. Usually people - at least in western countries - joining the clergy actively decide to do so. Which leads to a very strong overhang of queer clergy. It makes sense if you look at doctrine: Being queer is a sin. But we know of course that it simply is something you are. So you never are able to live out your sexuality without sinning. You do not want to marry a woman, because you are not attracted to women. So, why not join the clergy? Then you do not have to force yourself to have sex with a woman. Though of course, you realize soon enough - as you visit priest school - that you are not the only person with that idea. And so you sit there in the secluded school, surrounded by a bunch of self-hating homosexual men. Welp.

Mind you: Within the Catholic Church it is a constantly discussed topic. Because while Paul definitely suggests those things in his letters, Paul technically is not a prophet (he never claims he has a message from God), and neither Jesus nor the actual prophets say that those vows need to happen. This is the reason why so many other flavors of Christianity allow marriage for priests and even open homosexuality. Not to mention that the church in general with all those riches is doing very well on the Vow of Poverty. Same goes with the question of women as priests. This is also fully based on the Paulus letters. There is absolutely a chance at some point a Pope will come around to say: "Yeah, actually priests can have sex now and also hooray for female priests!"

Of course - at the time of this show... Yeah, that had not happened. xD

[enhard]

⋆˙⟡ monster | lee heeseung

: when two rivals in an entertainment company turned late-night lovers, no strings attached… or is it something else?

pairing: ceo!l.hs x fem!reader

CW: smut, enemies to fwb to lovers trope??, pwp (3 smut scenes omg), hate sex, age gap: heeseung is 29, reader is 24, usage of condoms, riding, oral sex (both receiving), cum eating, some pet names, insults?, lots of profanity lmk if i missed anything

notes: couldn’t stop thinking about this while listening to monster by gaga. crazycrazy

wc: 7.3k words (MDNI)

There was only one thing you hated more than useless things in your timetable. It was the asshole of the whole company, Lee Heeseung. The more conversations you heard his name in, the more you despised his existence.

His ego was so high it could hit a plane, the way he would talk about his compositions made you wanna throw up. He praised himself so much, and you started wondering if he was just a huge narcissist or if we were insecure of his writing skills. Luckily, you never saw him around often as you were really caught up in your own work. Having to compose songs all the time for singers was not an easy task. Your chairman was an even bigger asshole than Heeseung, always giving you all the work. You had to not only compose songs from start to finish, but you also had to edit and mix the voices, help the singers use the right tones and so much more stuff that wasn’t originally included in your job plan.

Usually, you would stay at the office overtime, your eyes darkened with tiredness. It was a miracle you haven’t fallen asleep all this time.

 You looked at the time,

 [01:54 AM]

“Great.” You sigh. Your shift ended at 12 AM. What the fuck are you still doing here? It’s quiet in the whole building, only clicking sounds can be heard from your keyboard. You’re all alone with a few bodyguards left in the company. You groan, your head pounding from the intense light of your pc. All you want now is to get back to your apartment just to greet your cat Juno.  He’s your only best friend in this cursed city of New York, he’s a soft and fluffy black and white cat, with heterochromia eyes, left eye blue and right eye brown. You talk to him all the time, even though he can’t hold conversations he’s the best listener you’ve ever encountered. Better than your ex-boyfriends, that’s for sure.

As the clock reads [02:29], you’re more than ready to go home. You gather all your things, wish a great night to all the security people there and finally get out of that stupid building. You get your car keys out of your bag, driving home in your black i8. When you get home you feed your cat, finally plopping in your bed and falling asleep instantly.

You woke up due to your phone ringing at around 10 am with the hugest headache you’ve had. You palm your forehead, grabbing your phone with your other hand. Your co-worker, Yena, is calling you. You pick up as fast as you can, moaning into the phone due to being exhausted out of your mind.

“Yeah… Yena hey….” You say with half a mouth.

“Hey girl, are you coming to work? Today’s the showcasing, have you forgotten?”

Oh, fucking hell. You totally forgot.

A showcasing happens when all composers need to show the work they did in a few months’ time. You need to turn in all the songs you’ve made in this time, whilst competing with your other co-workers to be the best one, getting the title of the best songwriter of the month. Your company likes making leaderboards, only adding onto your stress of being the best. Of course, last month’s songwriter was Heeseung, but you thought the judges were so biased over him… you knew you could take him down this month.

“Right… I’ll be there soon just let me get ready.” You say, already dreading the idea of getting out of bed.

She hangs up, letting you wash up quickly. You fix up your hair, put on your suit and do a bit of makeup. You get your badge with your name on it and out you are. By the time you arrive at the company you’re already late… the higherups there scolding you for it.

“Please try to make it on time, you know how important this is.”

You sigh. How could they expect you to be there early when you went home at almost 3 AM last night?

“Okay, okay I’m sorry. I’m here now.” You add.

After you come out of your office to get your suitcase that had your files, you bump into the last person you wanted to see there. He throws you a cheeky smile, not even apologizing for giving you a shoulder.

“Oh, if it isn’t the famous miss L/n! Ready to get your dreams crushed by my songs again?” you scoff at him, crossing your arms. “Yeah right, like I’d let a scumbag like you take my title. I don’t have anything to prove to you, stay in your lane.”

He raises his eyebrows at your response, as you would normally walk away if he told you anything. “Oh is it miss complaint now? Let me actually show you how this job is done, im your ceo for a reason.” he suddenly stops smiling to give you a glare.

“You don’t intimidate me Mr. Lee, right on the contrary, you make me want to laugh.” you say and turn around, not wanting to waste your time with such a man. His sleek smile creeps back onto his face as he walks into his own office.

A few minutes later, you get back to the front, everyone already waiting there with their work. You stand next to Yena, holding the tank of papers in hand tightly.

Yena could tell you’re nervous, so she extended one hand up to yours just to squeeze it, calming you down a bit. Your other co-workers were not a threat at all, but Heeseung was the one person you wanted to bring down. You wanted to wipe that stupid smile off his face. After much judging and testing, with recitals and rehearsals for the songs, the judges finally decided the points accorded to the candidates. The others already had way too little points to worry you, but you, Yena and Heeseung were left.

“Choi Yena, 127 points.” She sighed of relief. A sizeable number overall, but now it depends on what you and Heeseung did.

“Lee Heeseung, 140 points.” His eyes widen. There is a chance that you might win. You might take him over… You might take his place. No way, right?

After a good minute of silence, they finally list your points.

“L/n Y/n, 139 points.” You almost fall to your knees. Out of all chances, how could this happen to you?? You close your eyes and cover your ears before you go insane.

You let him win, again.

“Therefore, our winner this month will be Lee Heeseung, the winner of the last 3 months as well, Congratulations!” all you hear is buzzing in your ears. You grow sour of his name, of his voice, his face. You can’t stand his dumb mouth, dumb face, dumb voice. You can’t stand him at all, and you would do anything to see him fired or something. You know that won’t happen and it drives you crazy. Heeseung smiles, taking his prize in hand once again, his portrait remaining on the fame wall. He shakes hands with the judges before taking a good look at you.

You cannot look at him anymore, you just lower your gaze trying not to burst into tears. You worked so hard for this, yet he took away all your hope for a win. You storm out the room, sitting down at your desk to throw your head down on the wooden table.

One point. Seriously. This is ridiculous.

Well, you take a deep breath and continue with your shitty day. At some point in time, you get a knock on your office door. “Come in.” you say as you raise your eyes up to see who it is. “Oh Yena, hey.. sorry for not saying anything earlier…” you bite your lip.

“Don’t consume yourself over it, hey, that dude is a douche, okay? Do not let him get to you. You are better than him anyway.”

“Am I though? I mean… What if he is simply better than me. What if his songs are better than mine? What if his lyrics have more meaning than mine?”

“He is not better than you, and even if he will be proven to be, which I doubt, don’t ever let him know you think that.”

“I can’t be a narcissist just like him, Yena. If I am not as good as someone, I will take the responsibility on my shoulders and admit it.”

“See you’re already better than him, he would never” She laughs. You laugh back, although in your soul goes a fight between your ego and sincerity.

. . .

After the day ends, you finally go home early, not giving two fucks about what they might say or think, it is your right after all. Too bad that you get a message you dreamed of never getting, too bad it happened.

HELIX ENTERTAINMENT

“Good evening, members of the company. We are delighted to announce that tomorrow there will be a collaboration project between each other. The groups are arranged by the organisers, and they follow the lines of:

Now scrolling through all the pages, you search for your name. Oh, what are the chances.

Lee Heeseung & L/n Y/n”

Of course this had to happen, it would not have been you if it were not for your amazing luck.

“Oh, suck on it seriously.” You look at your phone in disbelief, while making yourself tea. “Juno can you believe this? This man is going to ruin my image and my life. I can’t stand him anymore I swear I might kill someone if this keeps happening.” Juno meows, probably because he wants a bit of peace, but you still took that as an agreement to what you said. “I know, I know. I guess it will be okay… hope he doesn’t ruin my career for life with this. I do not trust him.”

The next day, you shake your head while getting out of your car, glaring at the tall building with huge windows. You always glare while looking at it, but somehow this time was different. It wasn’t because you hated your job, it was because you had to see your partner. All the people who greeted you in the halls got a cold response, or no response at all. Might have been a shitty thing to do but honestly you weren’t in the mood for anything anymore. You just wanted this day to be over.

When you get into Heeseung’s office, seeing him rummaging through his papers, you just stood in the doorway… waiting for him to finish his work. He raises his head to look at you, his mood getting insignificantly worse when his eyes met yours. Before he gets to sigh, you cut him off.

“The feeling is mutual. I usually try to act nice, but I just cannot stand you no matter how hard I try.” You cross your arms while he goes back to his papers. “Then take a seat.” He responds in the coldest way, only making you furrow your eyebrows at his tone. “Okay damn…” you say under your breath while grabbing a chair to sit in front of his desk.

There are a few moments of silence, but you decide to ask him about the collaboration, same reason you’re here right now.

“Heese-” “It’s Mr. Lee for you.” You clear your throat annoyed. “Mr. Lee, I am only here to ask you about what we must do, can we focus on that?”

“Why would I make a project with someone as bad at writing as you?” he looks up at you again. You bite your cheek, barely being able to stand him anymore. You just look down to your thighs, grasping your palms together anxiously. Yuna told you to never be weak in front of him, but how could you not when he was so right?

“Please refrain from insulting my work and just take the organisations words, they put us together for this, so we need to do it.”

“If I let you work on this, you will just embarrass me in front of thousands of people. How about you just let me handle this? Go home, enjoy your days off. I’ll give you the credit.”

“You cannot just do everything alone; I do not care about days off I just want to work on this too. Please Mr. Lee.”

That is the first time he’s ever heard you say please to him. He hated your presence just as much as you hated his, why must you be at each other’s throats all the time? Simply because of rivalry or did other frustrations arise from both parties?

He licks his lips, finally giving in. “You can work on it with me Y/n. Just don’t disappoint me.”

“I promise I won’t. This matters so much to me.”

You follow him to his studio; he lets you get in first and that is when he locks the door behind you. You both sit down next to each other while you work on the song. He keeps acting weird throughout the recording and editing process, changing poses multiple times in a few minutes, sighing and fidgeting with his fingers. Halfway through the song you place your hand on his while looking at him. “Mr. Lee, are you feeling okay?”

That is when he sighs, snatching his hand away from yours and turning the pc off. He turns to you, keeping his eye contact consistent. “Y/n… i’ve just been feeling frustrated. Just forget it. Let’s focus on the song.”

Now you cannot say that you care about him, but you’re still curious to see what this is about. “Oh, is that so? Frustrated in what kind? Someone like you has feelings?”

He glares at you. “Not in the way you’d think, anyway.” You tilt your head. “But how? Tell me now, i’m curious.” “Maybe you should learn to keep your mouth shut, it’s none of your business.” “Just because you’re my superior does not mean you gotta talk to me like that, bastard.” He clenches his jaw. “Oh, that’s it.” He suddenly grabs onto your neck, pulling you closer. He’s still so gentle but it’s enough force to make you struggle to talk. “Is this what it’s about...? A... are you sexually frustrated…?” You tease. He releases the grasp on your neck and looks down at his hands. “I.. I’m sorry. It’s hard being alone when you’re pushing 30 you know.”

You had no idea what was happening right now, but you definitely enjoyed the attention you got. You were equally as touch starved as he was, and it was making you want more.

“You know, we could do this. But I really don’t like you dude.” You raise your eyebrow at him. He nods. “You don’t make yourself all that approachable either, would you really be down? I mean, just… fuck buddies… nothing else?”

“Mr. Lee, you know we both aren’t ones for relationships. But what’s in it for me?” “Oh, you want payment now?” “Well, you knew I wasn’t gonna give you myself for free, did you?” He laughs. “Fair, then how about I give you a raise?” “Mm… Anything else?” He rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay uhh. A raise and no more staying overtime, you get paid if you leave work early and… free coffee for life.” You ponder a bit. “Alright, I accept.” “Oh, not so quick, you need some rules to you too. For this to work you have to come help me anytime I need you.” “Libido that high, huh?” He shushes you and you giggle.

“Well okay, but if you’re really frustrated right now, shall we start today?” He looks back at you, visibly cringing from you being so direct with him, but he doesn’t mind. “I mean if you’re down.” “I am, but do you have any condoms?” That’s when you see him reaching for his wallet, taking out about 3 condoms out. Your eyes widen a bit, smacking your lips at his professionalism. “Oh, wow you’re ready.” “3 is a bit much…” “Who knows, i’ll end up using all of them and then end up going raw cause we are left with none.” “Yeah, don’t know about that.” “Im messing with you, dumbass.” He rolls his eyes, letting you get on top of his lap. Your lips finally make contact with his, getting to taste him in your mouth, the feeling lingering down to your stomach.

As you begin making out, your hand travels down to his forming bulge, squeezing and massaging it to the best of your abilities. As you’re doing that, he squeezes your ass with his palm, making you flinch from the sudden pressure. You playfully slap his face, pulling away from the kiss a bit. “You’re such a dick.” “I know, wanna feel mine already?” You give him one last kiss before pushing his head back on the chair to kiss his neck, insisting on his prominent adam’s apple. You suck on his sensitive skin, forming hickeys along his whole neck. “Fuck, Y/n, you’re not bad at this.” “I know, but you are.” “Oh shut up, I barely got to do anything.” You sigh, pulling away from his neck. “Let me ride you, m’kay?” “Do whatever you want to me.” He smiles coyly. “Could I kill you?” You pout your lips. “Not until you get your raise.” “Oh, fuck off.”

You start with unbuttoning his pants, not even taking them off before placing your hand on his boxers. You press his dick a bit, his groan appearing right after. “Mhm, that’s what I love hearing.” You nod to yourself. “Right from my mouth?” He teases too. “Oh, you know what I mean, I might need to stuff yours, so you shut up more often.” “Could you stuff it with your pussy?” That keeps you quiet for a bit, his response making you clench around nothing. “… I might, if tape doesn’t work.”

You don’t even take his pants off when you pull his boxers down with his half-hard dick springing out. You grab the base, stroking it a bit to get it as erect as you can. “You’re so big.” You point out. He just smirks, looking at you up and down. You leave his dick alone for a bit just to take your panties off, as you were already wearing a skirt, the embarrassing wet stains on them being visible for Heeseung to see as well. “You got this wet already? And you’re the one saying i’m horny.” “Shut it.” You throw your panties to the other side of the room, finally ripping one condom out the packaging, putting it well onto his dick. After you give him a few more strokes you position yourself on his dick, slowly lowering yourself on his length. It takes you a few good seconds to adjust, then you slowly move your hips back and forth on him. He already throws his head back, the feeling being so familiar yet so distant. Your walls clench around him every time you move on him, the feeling already getting unbearable. You change your routine a bit, starting to bounce instead of grinding, the sound of your thighs touching echoing through the room. You try leaving out as little moans as you can, but it’s still impossible for you, as it feels so good. You leave out small desperate noises as you bounce on him. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.” He smiles up at you. You glare again. “Fuck you.” While speeding up. “This.. doesn’t mean anything. I’m just.. helping.. you get rid of a boner.” You say out of breath. “And it’s working, keep going.”

You ride him as well as you can, his swollen tip getting so deep inside you it’s hitting your sweet g-spot. He needed to fuck with someone desperately, the fact that it was you was pure coincidence. Your mouth parts, leaving sounds that only his ears can hear. “Holy shit… I might cum soon… please” you cry, grabbing onto his shoulders with your nails bedded into his skin. He looks up at you, his hand resting against your ass, giving it a few squeezes here and there. “You’re gonna cum for me? Hm? Come on, cum all over me” He whisper shouts, helping you bounce on him faster and faster.

The knot in your stomach quickly snaps, your orgasm washing down over you with a few loud moans. You cum all over his dick, with each thrust forming a white ring at the base of it. “Your pussy so good, Y/n… I can’t take it any…more” he grunts, throwing his head back more with each bounce of yours. “Cum already, come on you’re... doing so well” you encourage him, and he immediately obeys, his semen spilling into his condom, making it fully white by the time you pull away from his lap. He pants and moans before you finally take the condom off his dick, the cum spilling back onto it. You stroke him a few more times, getting your hand messy but that finally makes him lay on the chair more relaxed, his high calming down.

“Damn it you’re good.” He says while smiling, his head thrown backwards. “I know, that’s why I agreed to help you.” You slightly grab onto his neck, giving it a few playful kisses. “Now should I send you back to your work? You’re finished here.” He teases. “Oh right, right. Maybe I should focus on my actual work, rather than this work.” You say, grabbing onto his dick one last time, leaving it alone after wrapping your hand around it.

He grabs your wrist, flicking it away now. He looks up at you while raising his eyebrow. “Get the fuck out of here.” You scoff at him, cleaning yourself up a bit and fixing your clothes back on before turning around to leave. “Suck my pussy.” You say annoyed while heading to the door.

As you open the door you hear a “Might do that too” and that’s when you get out the door, leaving him a middle finger before closing the door behind you.

Heeseung finishes the project for both of you, and you end up winning it together. Of course, he kept reproaching you that you won because of him, and you got into a heated argument that you just stopped talking for weeks. So first he says he’ll do it for you but when you do… he argues that he did all the work?

What an asshole.

After another day of no contact at all, you get passed a flyer at work, so you quickly read it.

“It gives us immense pleasure to invite you to a special gathering in honor of Lee Heeseung & L/n Y/n to celebrate their remarkable achievement of winning the collaboration project contest first place.

Date: [7th of December]

Time: [7 PM to 12 AM]

Venue: HELIX ENTERTAINMENT VENUE & BAR

Dress Code: [Semi-Formal]

We look forward to celebrating this special moment with you.

Warm regards,

HELIX ENTERTAINMENT”

After reading, you immediately put the flyer down on your desk, covering your face with your hands. “I don’t wanna see that man ever again.” You avoided him for a few weeks, how could you meet again now? You sigh to yourself, thinking that it’s just one day, it’ll be over, and you can continue ignoring him again.

On the day of the event, you buy yourself a nice and luxurious royal blue dress, it’s long and it hugs your body so well. It has a pretty big cleavage, but you know you looked attractive in it anyway. You get ready, grab your hand purse, and get to the venue. As you enter the big ballroom you notice Heeseung right away, talking to some higher ups while having one hand in his pocket, and the other in the air, moving it around while talking. He’s wearing a tight black suit on, with a deep v-neck that perfectly shows his collarbone. His hair a dark velvet and slightly gelled. You would be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive. He always wore that dark aura to him, and that pissed you off. It’s like he was pulling you in despite you trying to pull away. Even if you said you hated him, your palms got sweaty when you saw him, your heartbeat got faster and you eyes slightly widened whenever you saw him. It wasn’t because he was your boss, it wasn’t because he could fire you at any moment… there was something else. And he knew it.

You breathe in one last time before going up to them. As soon as Heeseung sees you he can’t stop looking at you. How perfect you look, you elegant you came here yet so sexy. The way your boobs sat in your dress and how they looked at Heeseung first, that’s what he claims anyway. You don’t say anything to each other, you barely dare to make eye contact. But at one point the others leave your conversation, saluting both of you for now... And when you expect it least, he pulls you aside.

“Are you trying to tempt me with those tits?” He whispers. “Excuse me?” You look at him, eyebrows furrowed in a mix of confusion and anger. “I mean, look at you. Who did you come here for? Where are you going after this? Is there anyone else with you?” He launches this set of questions so weirdly, making you cross your arms which makes your boobs squeeze even tighter against each other.

“I’m here alone, Heeseung. I just liked this dress and came here with it. What’s your problem, even if I dressed up for someone?” You look angrily at him. “Because nobody can see… all of this… except for me. You’re my fuck buddy remember?”

“So? I thought friends with benefits meant something else for you. Don’t care what you think about my outfits. Just stop staring weirdo.” You rest your arms alongside your body, before turning to leave. He grabs your wrist, pulling you close to him. “Look, I don’t want to be constantly ignoring you. Can we be just like we were before?” your lips part. “You mean…. hating each other?” he sighs. “You know what I mean. Hating each other but helping each other with things.” You click your tongue. “Oh yeah, speaking of that… you never gave me my raise… or my coffee.”

“What? you can take as much coffee as you want, and I want you to help me with something before I give you the extra money.”

“And what’s that? amaze me.”

“Could you act that you’re my fiancé for tonight?”

You freeze. “Huh?”

“I don’t want you around me, at all. But It’s so annoying when people keep asking why i’m not married at my age.”

“Did you tell them that you’re a bastard? and that’s why you’re single?” you look at him pissed.

“Oh fuck off, just tell me if you want to help me or not.” you contemplate. “Maybe. If I finally get my raise, and some good sex out of you.”

“It’s on then. Let’s go meet some people here, they’re old and rich perverts but they give hella good sponsors. You might wanna cover up. I don’t want them looking at you.” he grabs your waist. “What a coincidence, that sounds like a perfect description of you in a few years.” you roll your eyes, walking with him while struggling to put on your jacket.

“Hello, Mr. Lee, and who is this beautiful lady?” they start right off the bat looking at your body and all, despite covering yourself as well as you can. You feel so uncomfortable with them but Heeseung makes sure to cover you with his body instead. “This is Y/n, my dearest fiancé. She’s a bit shy, so please talk to me instead.” You throw a slight smile while looking at him, his gesture making you really happy.

After you were done with these men, you leave to a more reserved area. “I can’t believe i’m saying this but… thanks for having my back earlier.” “Don’t fret, I saw how uncomfortable you were. Hate you or not, I can’t see you with that expression on your stupid face.”

You take your jacket off while nodding your head. “Wow, what a compliment from you mr. Lee. I acted enough; now can I stop being your dog following you everywhere?”

“Of course, you can leave too if you’re busy.”

“Hey, what about my payment? remember?”

“You want your money now? What do you wanna buy? I’ll give you my card.” He says, pulling out his card to hand it to you. “My pin is 1510. Use however much you want.”

That just stunned you. “W-What no I don’t need to buy anything. Keep your card…” you push it back to him. “I meant… you know.”

“The good sex part?” he says softly.

“Yeah. That.” you say a bit embarrassed now. “Stop making it so awkward, you’re being too quiet for your own good.” you continue.

“Why do you think that? Is my mouth too big to keep quiet?” he smiles. “Obviously, you never seem to shut up but right now you’re eerily quiet.” “I’m just thinking whether I should just eat you out like you deserve or fuck you too on top of that.” His response already gets you hot and bothered, not caring about the people who might be there or might pass you two. You get even closer to him, sliding your hand down his v-neck to touch his pecs and collarbone. “What’s stopping you from doing both? Please Heeseung. It’s my turn to be needy is it not?”

“Of course, it can be your turn whenever. Surprised you’re craving my pleasure when you can’t stand me.” “You’re still fucking hot with this suit on, personality or not.” He smiles, pulling you into a heated kiss, the butterflies rummaging through your stomach. You grab onto his hair, pushing him a little while making out. You pull away after a bit, finally unbuttoning his shirt. You touch him all over his body, barely being able to stop.

“Did you always look this good?” you say, moving your hands on his abdomen. “Were you always this desperate for me?” he smiles, letting you do whatever you want, until he begins undressing you too, sliding that dress off you in a hurry. He slips your bra off taking one tit into his mouth while kneading the other. You let out desperate sounds, wishing he would just eat you out already. His breath hot against your nipple makes your whole body shiver, inevitably making you whine. “Heeseung just suck on my pussy like that please stop teasing me damn it.”

He laughs against your skin, giving your boob one last kiss before pulling away. “Okay, okay, sit down on this couch.” You do, and he gets on his knees to slide your panties off. He makes you spread your legs for him, keeping them apart with his hands. He starts off with small kisses around your core, taking his time enjoying his meal afterall. “This is the second time you’re dripping wet for me, is it a pattern now?” you grab onto his hair to keep him there. “Shut up and just help me get through this.” He listens, starting to eat you out to the best of his ability. Hollowing his cheeks, shaking his head to suck on your folds. He puckers up his lips to kiss you all over, giving it a few sweet licks all over the slit. Once he reaches your clit, he glues his mouth on it, sucking on it leaving the nastiest sounds known to man. While he’s focusing on your clit, he sneaks his fingers to your wet hole, sliding one finger in at first, pounding it into you at a steady rate. You cannot stop moaning loudly, the pleasure being too much for you. He inserts another finger in, curling them inside you, reaching your g-spot easily.

“Oh, right there, Hee. Don’t you dare stop or you’re so dead— oh my fucking god that’s so good.” His hand speeds up, he pulls his mouth away to flick his tongue on your bud faster and faster; matching the rhythm of his fingers. “Fuck!” you cry out. “Heeseung i’m gonna… cum please … keep going.” You lose your mind. He speeds up even more, destroying your pussy with his fingers, actually giving you hope that he’s gonna let you finish. Once you get as close as you’ve ever been, he pulls out and away completely, making your body shake. You groan suddenly opening your eyes in disbelief. “What the fuck..?” you say angrily. “You thought I was just gonna let you cum like that from something so simple?” You glare. “You’re so fucking annoying, I had such a good orgasm forming.”

He caresses your cheek. “Stop pouting, let me make you cum forreal now, okay?” you still look mad, but you grab onto the hem of his pants, pulling them down in one second; his boner is quite visible already. You pull his dick out, stroking it while he gets a condom out his wallet again (Somehow he’s always ready). You keep stroking him, squeezing his tip with your fingers until he leaks precum everywhere. You stop that to pull his boxers down further, letting him put his condom on. He strokes himself a few more times before positioning himself to penetrate you. He slowly pushes his cock in, making slow movements at first, slowly speeding up to fuck you good. “You’re taking it so well, and you feel so good..” You hum, slowly wrapping your legs around him. “That’s amazing… keep going..” you whine, letting him fuck you til you lose your mind.

He slightly moans at every thrust, managing to get deeper and deeper with every thrust. You feel him so deep inside, hitting your g-spot again with his swollen tip. The sudden zap makes you grab onto his biceps with your hands, digging your nails into his skin while moaning louder. “Mhm…. That’s the spot. Don’t stop please…” He finally listens to your pleads, pounding into your sweet spot over and over as you leave red scratches all over his arms. Your hands move up to his upper back, scratching him like a wild cat. He hisses multiple times at the pain, but he lets you react this way just to see all your reactions to him destroying you once again. You tighten around him as you’re about to cum.

“Hee...please let me cum... plea—oh that feels so good please…” you say as you start crying, small tears running down your cheeks shutting your eyes forcefully. “Who’s crying on my cock now? You love getting fucked like this don’t you slut?” he says while speeding up even more, making you squirt on him on the spot. His words buzz in your ear over and over while you lose your mind completely. Your legs shake on his lower back, getting his dick wet with your squirt. “You’re so messy when you cum.” He groans, getting close to his release too. “Oh fuck you… you know you like it… cum already…. come on.” A few more thrusts in and he pulls out to take his condom off his dick. He gives himself a few more strokes before releasing strings of cum all over your stomach. He holds onto your thigh with his other hand while continuing to stroke himself. You look down to your stomach just to see, biting your lip at the scenery. “That’s a new one… you look damn hot doing it.” He slightly smiles at you. “Figured we’d both get messy.” You both quickly clean up the best you can, trying not to get caught by anyone despite how loud you both were the entire time.

“Is this the good sex you were talking about?” he says in a sly manner. “Obviously, if that even means something to you. If there’s one good thing about you it might just be that dick.” You roll your eyes at him. “Oh my, should I feel honored?” he says sarcastically.

You both get out of there, having no intention of staying after what both just did. He gives you the rest of the evening off and gives you your very awaited raise. He was generous with his numbers, that good time really helped. might despise you, or that’s what you think, but he took that raise seriously and you couldn’t stop smiling at your bank balance.

A few days later, you get a text at work from none other than Heeseung. You never gave him your number, so it was a surprise.

“hey y/n”

“Who is this?”

“the guy you fucked 2 days ago”

“ugh what do u want”

“i’m your boss, don’t text me that way”

“whatever, why are u texting me and where did u get my number”

“yena, i just wanted to give you some extra work today”

[1 attachment]

The photo he sent shows his lower body sitting on a chair with his legs slightly manspreading, a thick bulge layering on his dark grey pants while his left hand is gripping the said bulge. Multiple veins are seen branching down from his hand to his arm.

The moment you saw the picture your eyes scattered throughout the pixels in your phone without being able to stop. The photo he took was so damn attractive to you for no specific reason but the way his hand looked, the way you just knew that bulge in his pants was throbbing, begging to get out the tight bottom wear. Still, you decided to be a little cold to him as you always were.

“oh why should i help u? i already got my raise”

“do u want this to be your only one?”

You leave him on seen for a minute or two.

“where r u”

“in my office, tell my bodyguard i called you in here”

“🖕”

You get up, fixing your makeup a little before leaving your office to get to his. After you close the door behind you, you both have a moment of intense eye contact, just to break it off by looking down. “You got here fast. Missed me that much?” you smack your lips. “It’s not like you threatened me or anything.” He laughs softly. “You know you missed me already. Did you touch yourself to the picture I sent, too?” He slowly walks towards you.

“What? No. You’re not all that Heeseung. Your mouth moves too much though.”

“Oh yeah? Then let's see what yours can do.”

He grabs your chin, pulling it up so you can only look into his eyes. There are a few seconds of silence where your heart skips a beat… then in his lowest tone you hear him say...

“Get on your knees.”

He releases the grasp on your chin, letting you lower yourself, finally making eye contact with his bulge. “Aren’t we gonna get caught here?” He shakes his head. “No one can enter without my permission. No one can leave either, like you here.” He smiles. You squeeze your legs together at his words while sliding his pants and boxers off in one move. His hardened cock springs out, bouncing off his navel. You start with small pecks to his red tip, slowly moving down to his entire length. He looks down at you, admiring your sweet moves to bring him pleasure. “You’re adorable like this, did you know?” he chuckles. “Eat a dick.” He slaps your cheek. “Too bad you’re eating mine right now.” You glare up at him before taking his tip in your mouth, stroking him with your hand. You have your other hand resting on his right knee, as you bop your head back and forth little by little. He smiles at you, grabbing your hair into a ponytail just to keep your head in place and to be able to fuck your mouth a bit.

You unwrap your hand from around him cock, letting him completely take control, going at his desired pace. He moans at the feeling, throwing his head back for a second. “Fuck yeah... I see this mouth is better at doing things other than complaining all the time.” His thrusts are making you slightly choke on his dick, getting harder and harder to breathe. You grab onto his thighs, trying to at least make him slow down, but to no avail. It feels too good for him to stop now, your mouth wrapped so tight around his dick; sending him waves of bliss with each thrust. After a good while he pulls away, letting you breathe again. “I fucking hate you.” You say, looking up at him. “Don’t talk to your superior that way, brat.” He grabs the base of his cock, slapping the tip onto your lips multiple times.

You take him in your mouth again, bopping your head up and down faster than before. You try using your tongue against as well, caressing the sensitive spot between his tip and length with the tip of your tongue.

“That feels so good. Don’t pull away.” He whispers. You leave little hums to confirm that you won’t, letting him get closer to his release with those emitted vibrations. After a few more sloppy bops, he moans like hell, grabbing onto the back of your head to push you deeper onto him. “Y/n i’m— gonna cum… hold on…” he moans out, his eyes closed shut. You keep going, wanting him to cum right in your mouth. “Mmm…hmm.” Is all you can let out, before he cums deep in your throat, automatically swallowing all of it. He leaves out a small groan, pulling out your mouth after he’s done. A string of saliva links his tip and your tongue as he pulls away further.

“Good girl. You swallowed all of it.” You give him a little smile, standing up while wiping your mouth. “Might’ve been the best i’ve ever had, come here.” He says, grabbing your waist with his arms. He leans in to give you a genuine kiss, not a lustful one, definitely not. He keeps you in that deep kiss for a while, pulling away only to pull you in again. “Where... is this … coming from?” you chuckle a little, asking between kisses. “I don’t think… I can stand… completely hating… you anymore…” your eyes widen a bit. “Was my mouth that good?” you say jokingly, and he shakes his head. “Not just that, not just sex. You have a crazy charm to you, I don’t know if you can feel it.”

“That’s crazy coming from you Lee Heeseung.”

“I want you in my life Y/n, you can be mad all you want but it doesn’t change things between us.”

“You’ve already been in mine way too long.” You smile.

“Exactly, I want you to be so sick of me, no medicine would be able to treat you.”

“I guess we can make it work… you’re crazy hot, still might need to tape that mouth though.”

“Is that a secret kink?” He laughs.

“Oh, shut up.” You push him slightly. You can’t lie, being his girlfriend now was tempting, no matter how much you tried to hate him, he attracted you more and more without even realising. Every time he was in your presence your subconscious was happy to see him. Your mind played tricks on you, and you hated how much you adored him.

Dating Lee Heeseung, your boss, was one of the best decisions of your life. Turns out he’s sweeter than it seems, he would give his life for you, and you would too. You didn’t need anyone else, only your soulmate and your cat. You ended up moving in together, always cooking dinner together, going on vacations together and just enjoying eachother’s presence. He was such a sweet guy, something you never expected to see from such a man. Yena definitely judged you when she first found out about your new relationship, but quickly came along with the idea. Thing is, Heeseung acted this way with others but he was so sweet with you. He only loved you. His sparkly bambi eyes always stare at you with such admiration when you walk in the room. He can’t stop admiring you all the time.

I guess he wasn’t that bad after all.

———————————————————————

a/n: thank you so much for reading this!! I spent a few days on it and it was definitely experimental. reblogging/liking would be very much appreciated < 3

[cosmicdahlias]

And They Were Roommates

Logan Howlett x Reader

MINORS DNI

Your roommate, Wade Wilson, brings home an alcoholic Canadian bastard with knifes in his knuckles. After a month of putting up with him, an argument between you two goes in an unexpected direction.

tags: hard drugs mention, marijuana mention, alcohol usage, age difference, enemies to lovers, slapping, claws, hate fucking, mdom/fsub, breeding, degradation, praise kink, belt usage, choking, p in v, knifeplay (counting claw usage as knifeplay lmao), blood, creampie, possible impreg, aftercare, oral, multiple orgasms (emphasis on multiple), overstimulation

i’ve recently started watching the xcu movies after deadpool and wolverine dropped on disney+ and MY GODDDDDD have i been missing out!!! i’ve been an mcu girlie for so long (plus deadpool). the x-men movies are so fun but alsoooooo uhhhh hugh jackman as logan??? HELLO??? i need this man biblically like it’s not even funny. i have yet to watch logan (2017) but i’ve seen edits on tiktok and WHOA MAMA talk about a silver fox!!! also fun fact male wolverines bite down on the female’s neck during mating and i couldn’t resist including that in this fic. animalistic logan is THE BEST logan 👌

You were Wade Wilson’s friend turned roommate. You first knew each other through your other roommate, Althea, a blind woman who went by Al. At one point in time you were Al’s dealer before giving up that life once you got your degree and found steady employment. You never dabbled in the devil’s dandruff like Al did, as with the rest of gen Z, your drug of choice was weed. Your friends often asked why you chose an old woman and a mutant in his forties as roommates, but honestly rent was cheap and that was all you cared about.

You hadn’t seen Wade in a few days, he mysteriously disappeared during his birthday party. Neither you, nor any of his friends had any idea what had happened to him. You knew he’d kinda hit a rough’ish point in his life, giving up his assassin alter ego by the name of Deadpool for becoming a car salesman. You wondered if he had gone off on some sort of bender, but you honestly didn’t know.

You had just gotten off of work and opened the door to your apartment. Getting home took longer than expected, half of your street was cordoned off, from the damage looked like a bombing was the cause. You sat on the couch and pulled out your phone, trying to see if the local news had covered what had happened when door unlocked and swung open.

Wade walked in, sporting the iconic red suit you hadn’t seen him wear in six years. He was carrying the most… unique looking dog you’d ever seen and he was accompanied by a man with a rugged appearance who was wearing pants of similar material as Wade’s suit and nothing else. The stench of blood permeated the room.

“Al, I’m back.” Wade said.

“She’s out. Dude, where the hell have you been?” You asked.

“Oh no big deal, just saved the entire multiverse from total annihilation. I’m Marvel Jesus now.” Wade answered.

You elected to ignore his explanation. You never knew why you asked what he’d gotten up to whenever he wore that suit, none of it ever made a lick of sense to you.

“Who’s the dog?”

“Her? This four legged scrotum is Mary Puppins, or as I like to call her, Dogpool. Something… unfortunate happened to her last owner, so I’m her papá now.” Wade said cheerfully.

Knowing him, he definitely had something to do with whatever happened to her previous owner, but that wasn’t what you were asking about.

“Cute, but I was talking about the washed up Abercrombie & Fitch greeter next to you.”

The man rolled his eyes.

“Ohhhh, yeah that’s Logan. He’s gonna be crashing here for a while.”

“Wait, hold the fuck up. You disappear for days and you just show up in the suit you haven’t worn in years, reeking of blood, telling me some shirtless dude who also smells like blood is gonna live here like it’s no big deal?”

“Well funny thing is he doesn’t exactly know anyone else around here, not really his fault since I had to pull him from his universe and bring him here to save ours. May or may not have done so to a choir rendition of Madonna. You know, typical multiverse stuff and whatnot. I mean we’re Disney property now and that’s the horse they’re beating to death at the moment.” Wade answered.

Once again ignoring the exposition dump, you continued to protest.

“You can’t be serious, Wade! This is a two bed apartment. You and Al already share a room, so where the fuck are you gonna put him?”

“Isn’t that a couch you’re sitting on?” Logan scoffed.

“Oh perfect, so I can’t even use the goddam living room anymore?” You asked, growing even more irritated by Logan’s input.

“Jesus, you’re just a fuckin’ princess, aren’t you?” Logan huffed.

You glared at him before turning your attention back to Wade.

“Do I literally not get a say in this like at all? Even though I live here and pay my share of the rent?”

“Look, I promise it’s temporary. Just until he gets his footing in this universe. It won’t be so bad, I mean look him, total eye candy.” Wade said, gripping Logan’s face and turning his head to you.

Logan gave him a look that could kill. Long metal claws sprung out from just below his knuckles. Your eyes widened.

“THE FUCK ARE THOSE?” You shouted.

“Riiiiiiiight, so those are adamantium claws. They ain’t vibranium, but hey, can’t always be the number one. He’s a bonafide animal, in more ways than one, maybe you’ll find out for yourself.” Wade said, you could tell he was winking underneath his mask.

“The fuck do you mean by that?” Logan growled.

“Yeah, what?” You asked.

“Hey, I know sexual tension when I see it.” Wade retorted.

“I literally just met him.” You said.

“Yeah and with Hugh Jackman’s face and body, the time between introduction and need for face riding is a matter of seconds.” Wade said.

You gave a quick glance at Logan. Sure, he was incredibly attractive, but you sensed a sort of emotional unavailability that put you off. You had standards.

“You know my type and he’s not it, Wade.” You insisted.

“Forget type, he’s THE Wolverine. You know how many fanfics people read about this guy? Lookin’ at you, reader.” Wade said.

“Whatever, I’m not getting into a debate over my preferences for men.” You said, walking to your room and slamming the door.

“I think that went well.” Wade said.

-

A month had passed and much to your dismay, you were still being forced to share the apartment with Logan. At the very least he’d upgraded to wearing a shirt instead of walking around with his top half exposed.

After getting home from an exhausting shift at work, you opened the fridge, looking for the bottle of wine you saved for those evenings after a particularly long day. It was nowhere to be seen and you immediately knew who the culprit was.

“For fuck’s sake, Logan!” You shouted.

You headed to the living room to confront what was supposed to be your temporary roommate who sat on the couch.

“Christ, what now?” He groaned.

“Where the fuck is my wine?”

“Hm? Oh that? Yeah, it’s gone.” He answered dismissively, almost like taking time to respond or even look at you was beneath him.

“How many times do I have to tell you to keep your barely functioning alcoholic ass away from my stuff?”

“Didn’t see your name on it.”

“I specifically told you not to touch that fucking bottle multiple times.”

“Must’ve not been able to distinguish what you said from your typical bitching, I usually just tune that shit out.” He said, still not making eye contact with you.

“Jesus you really have no respect for anyone.” You spat.

Logan stood, coming in way too close for your liking.

“Respect? That’s a really funny word coming from someone who doesn’t respect themselves enough to not wear short little skirts like the one you’re wearing, bending over all the time to show off that ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh you fuckin’ heard me. You think I don’t see what you’re doing with the clothes you wear, or when you come out in the morning in nothing but a shirt and panties because you think I’m asleep and won’t notice?”

“Back the fuck up, the hell do you mean by ‘think’ you’re asleep?”

“I barely sleep enough as it is, I’m awake the second I hear your door open. You have any idea what seeing you like that does to me?”

You blushed.

“You’re fucking disgusting.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Please, you do it because you hope I’m watching you. I see the way you look at me. You can say you hate me all you fuckin’ want, but I can smell your goddam pheromones from across the room. I’ve been around for over two centuries and have more than enough experience to know when someone wants me. Especially when they’re acting like as much of a slut as y-“

You slapped him hard across the face. Logan immediately responded by pushing you up against the wall, unsheathing his claws and holding them under your chin. Neither of you said anything, the only sounds being a mix of him and you panting in anger.

Fuck, you had really grown to hate him, but something about his claws so dangerously close to you was playing into your kinks. You stole a glance down under, holy shit he was hard. You grabbed him by the face, kissing him aggressively. His claws retracted and he let his hands travel to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Mmf- fuckin’ knew it.” He said between kisses.

Logan picked you up by the underside of your thighs and carried you to your bedroom, his lips never once leaving you. He threw you down onto the bed, pulling your shirt over your head and unhooking your bra, tossing it aside. He took in the sight of your exposed chest.

“You’re such a pretty little thing, babygirl.”

His rough, calloused hand cupped your breast. He leaned down and you gave a yelp as he bit and tugged your nipple.

Logan chuckled. “Sensitive, aren’t you?”

You kissed him as you pulled his shirt off and traced your fingers along the dip between his abs. He unbuckled his belt, unzipping his jeans and slipping them off. Your eyes widened at the size of his cock, he laughed at your reaction.

“Yeah, like it don’t you?” He smirked.

“How the hell am I supposed to enjoy this if you’re gonna tear me in half?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want it like that, I can tell you like it rough.”

“That’s a bold assumption to make.”

“Yeah? Keep telling yourself that.”

Logan pulled off your skirt and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties, slipping them down your legs. He looked at your pussy with pure animalistic lust.

“Fuuuck babygirl, look how wet you already are for me. You got it that bad for older men, huh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You retorted.

“Oh I don’t have to, the way you’re dripping says more than enough.”

“Just shut up and fuck me already.”

You laid back on the bed with your head against the pillow and Logan flipped you over on your stomach, pulling you up to your hands and knees.

“No, you don’t get missionary. You act like a bitch? You’re getting fucked like one.”

Logan reached for his belt, he raised it, bringing it down sharply on your ass, making you squeal.

“This is what you get for being such a fuckin’ brat. From now on you call me ‘sir’, understand?”

“Like hell I will.“

He lashed you again.

“Keep talking back and see what happens. Now, what do you say?”

“Y- yes sir.”

“There you go. I’ll be nicer if you listen to me… maybe.”

Logan looped the belt around your neck.

“I’m keeping you on a leash in case you continue making smart comments.” He smirked.

“As if that’s gonna shut m- hrrrk!”

He pulled it tight, the leather dug into your skin and constricted your throat. The most you could get out was a strained moan.

“Got nothin’ to say to me now, huh? C’mon, tell me how much you hate me.” Logan mocked as he pulled harder.

You looked back at him and mouthed “fuck you”.

He laughed. “Oh I will.”

He pressed the tip of his cock against your slit for a fraction of a second before sharply forcing his full length deep inside you, causing you to cry out as his intimidating girth stretched you wide. He began to fuck you at a ruthless pace, the sounds of your yelps and squeaks filling the room.

“Poor thing, am I hurting you? It’s okay, I’m only fucking you senseless.” He teased.

His free hand gripped your ass, nails digging into your skin.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fuckin’ tight. It’s like your little pussy was made for my cock.” He grunted.

Logan leaned down, sucking your neck, leaving mark after mark, his hand letting the belt loosen.

“You’re gonna look so pretty all marked up by me.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Are you seriously giving me hickeys? Really? What are you thirtee- ngh!”

Logan pulled tight on his belt again, keeping you from finishing your snide remark.

His thrusts became more aggressive, and as much as your feelings about Logan confused you, his cock felt incredible. You moved yourself back on him and he growled in approval.

“Yeah that’s it, take this fat cock like a perfect little slut. So good for me.”

He let go of the belt, both hands moving to your hips. His pace became punishingly fast and brutal. Between his growls and the way he fucked you like a dog, he honestly seemed more animal than man.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ breed you, I don’t care if you’re on the pill or not.”

You whimpered and tightened around him at his words. He smirked.

“Oh you like that?”

You nodded.

“Yeah? You wanna get knocked up? Tell me you want it, babygirl. Lemme hear you say it.”

“I need you to cum in me, get me pregnant. Please.” You begged.

He stopped his thrusts with only his head remaining inside you. He grabbed you by the throat and pulled you up against him, pressing his chest to your back.

“Please, what?” He commanded.

“Please, sir.”

He shoved you down onto the mattress and slammed himself fully back inside you, immediately resuming his vicious pace.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl.”

He panted like a wild animal, his claws slowly extending as he grew close.

“S- shit, sorry. Happens sometimes.” He said.

You tightened around him.

“Use them on me, hurt me, sir. Please, I need it so bad.” You whined.

“Goddam, you’re a fuckin’ freak. Aren’t ya, babygirl?”

He raked his claws down your back, you moaned obscenely loud as pearls of blood formed from the long slits he’d created. The mere sensation of it all immediately caused you to cum on his cock. The feeling of you pulsing around his shaft pushed him over the edge. He grunted as he buried himself to the hilt and leaned over, biting down hard on your neck, capillaries breaking under your skin. His cock throbbed with every rope of cum he shot into you.

“Fuuuuckin’ Christ, it’s not often I find someone that’s as into the hardcore stuff as me.” He chuckled.

Your whole body shook and you collapsed onto the mattress on your stomach. Logan removed his belt from your neck and got off the bed.

“Stay there, don’t move.” He said, pulling on his jeans and leaving the room.

He returned five or so minutes later with gauze, a roll of medical tape, and a wet hand towel.

“Had to really dig around for some of this stuff, when two out of four roommates regenerate there’s not a real demand.“

Logan got back onto the bed, sitting next to you.

“So what’s it like? To not heal immediately?” He asked as he dabbed at the blood on your back.

“I dunno, I never really thought about it. I guess you just deal with the pain for a few days, weeks, or months depending on what it is until it’s fine again.”

Logan chuckled.

“Sometimes I forget just how fragile everyone else is, until the world reminds me of it again and then…” He trailed off.

You could tell there was a heaviness to the latter half of his words, you knew why. Wade had told you that in Logan’s universe (a concept which took weeks for you to fully grasp) every single one of his fellow mutants had been murdered. You didn’t know the details, but you didn’t need to for you to understand why he was the way that he was. You looked up at him.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You said softly.

“What do you-“ his brow furrowed. “What did Wade tell you?” He growled as he covered his claw marks with gauze.

“Don’t get mad, I just- I wanted to know why you act like-“

“A dick?” He scoffed, pulling out a few inches of medical tape from the roll.

“Like someone with severe trauma.”

He went silent and looked away from your gaze as he finished adding the last line of tape to secure the gauze.

“…You’re all patched up.”

You moved to get up and dress yourself, but Logan wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you back onto the mattress.

“No, c’mere. Lay back for me.”

“Do I still have to call you ‘sir’?

“It’s alright, you can call me ‘Logan’ again. This is about making you feel good, not me. I think I owe you one for being such a good girl.”

You laid with your head against the pillow and Logan began to kiss his way down the length of your body until his head was between your thighs. His lips were so close to your pussy that you could feel the heat of his breath.

“Didn’t peg you for the kinda guy that gives head.”

“You thought wrong. I’m eating this pussy until you’re shaking for me.”

His lips met your clit, his tongue rolling and circling it. You moaned and tangled your fingers in his hair.

“Fuckin’ Christ, your scent is addictive.” He growled against you, making you shudder as the deep vibrations went straight to your clit.

You bucked your hips and he moved his hands to them, keeping you in place.

“Eeeeasy there. I know it feels good, but you can’t move around like that if I’m gonna eat you out, babygirl.”

He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them at just the right spot to absolutely send you over the edge. Your breath shuddered as you tightened around him.

“That’s it. C’mon, be a good girl and cum for me.”

You gripped his hair harder as you came undone on his tongue, pulsing around his fingers.

“Fuuuuuck, Logan!”

Your back arched off the bed, he pressed a hand to your stomach, holding you down.

“No, I’m not done with you yet.”

He continued sucking and licking your clit, his fingers fucking you hard and fast. You shook, feeling a second orgasm build. Your head cocked back as all of the nerves in your body ignited in pleasure for a second time. You expected Logan to remove his mouth, but he kept going.

“Fuck, I can’t stop. You’re just too goddam perfect when you cum.”

You moaned loudly, your clit throbbing in his mouth as you came for a third time, cursing like a sailor and writhing against his tongue.

“You doing good there, babygirl?” Logan asked.

“Uh-huh.” You murmured.

At some point everything went hazy and you lost track of just how many times he’d made you cum. The more you had, the quicker the next one came, until it was one immediately after another. You were a shaking, stuttering mess.

“L- Logan, I ca- an’t keep going. I- it’s too m- much.”

“Shhh, you’re okay. Just one more time, I promise.”

He pumped his fingers relentlessly, his tongue working your clit at an equally vigorous pace. Every muscle in your body tensed as the most intense orgasm you had ever felt in your life rocked you to your very core and everything went white for a moment.

“Ohhhhh godddd, Logan. You’re gonna fucking kill meeee.” You groaned.

Logan moved himself to get on top of you, kissing you deeply.

“I’m sorry babygirl. I know I pushed you hard, but you did so well for me.” He whispered softly, holding your face in his hand and stroking your cheek with his thumb.

He laid next to you, pulling you to him, his chest pressed against your back as your post orgasm haze finally subsided.

“Never saw you as the cuddling type.” You said.

“Depends on how I feel about whoever I’m fucking, and unfortunately for me I’m starting to actually like you.”

“And what did I do to deserve that?”

“Well, you’re still a total bitch, but you’re actually pretty sweet when you want to be. I like you that way though, makes things interesting. I’ll admit when you slapped me I got so fuckin’ hard.”

“So, you’re saying I should slap you more often?”

“I’m not saying no, but just expect to lose the ability to walk after I fuck it out of you.”

“You got yourself a deal.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Good. Now, there’s something you should know. Regeneration doesn’t just mean that I heal quickly.” He said, pressing the hard bulge in his jeans against you.

“Holy shit, so… we could fuck all night without stopping?”

“Exactly.”

“Then what the hell are we doing just lying here?”

Logan turned you onto your back, getting on top of you.

“Attagirl, let’s fuckin’ go.”

-

The two of you spent the whole night fucking like rabbits nonstop. When morning came you made your way to the kitchen. Logan followed, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you from behind as you made yourself a cup of coffee. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent.

“I hope you know I’m never gonna get enough of you.” He said, his hands traveling underneath your shirt to your breasts.

“I swear, you’re hornier than a dog that hasn’t had his balls chopped off.” You teased.

“Yeah and you love it.”

“There you go with the assumptions again, you’re so right though.” You purred, turning to him.

“I know I am.”

His lips met yours and he lifted you onto the counter. You laced your fingers in his hair and wrapped your legs around him. Both of you were too focused on each other to notice the sound of a door opening. Wade walked out from the room he shared with Al carrying Mary Puppins.

“Judging by the NC-17 noises I heard all night I’m guessing you two had fun.” Wade said, causing you to jump and pull away from Logan.

“For fuck’s sake, do you not know when to leave people alone?” Logan huffed.

“Oh c’mon peanut, you know boundaries aren’t my forte. It’s my toxic trait.”

Logan glared at him.

“Alright alright, I can take a hint. Just try not to get any fluids on the appliances. I certainly don’t mind a little Wolvie in my coffee, but I don’t think Al would appreciate it.” Wade said, heading back to his room.

Logan turned his attention back to you, his lips brushing against yours.

“Now, babygirl, where were we?”

[totally-here]

3 times Phantom's Guardian was Mentioned + 1 Time He Showed Up

One

Phantom’s introduction to Young Justice wasn’t as dramatic as Empress’ or Slobo’s, or even Arrowette’s first introduction to the cave. No, it wasn’t during the Olympics, or on a battlefield, and he didn’t come in injured and looking for help. 

Impulse just brought Phantom in one day and insisted that he should join because he’s their age, interested in justice, and now that Greta’s human again they need another ghost member. So Phantom stayed, popping in and out for missions but never really sticking around all that long. 

Today is one of the days that Phantom’s with them on a mission, that being looking around a lab of the Brain’s that had an energy surge recently, despite it being presumably abandoned. 

Kon got paired up with Phantom to check the rest out first, since they both have better hearing than Anita and Tim, who were both still in the main room working on checking the computers for previous activity. 

The room is dark except for the light green ball glowing slightly above Phantom’s hand. He waves it around enough for it to reflect off of glass, then throws it up to the ceiling. The light expands enough to illuminate the room. 

Phantom mumbles about not knowing he could do that. Kon ignores him and moves closer to inspect the glass tubes to the side of several monitors set up. 

“Looks like cloning equipment,” Phantom says, casually. He drags a finger through the dust gathering on one of the monitors. “Don’t think they’ve been activated recently, though, so that’s good.”

“What? You got a problem with clones or something?” It’s a quick and defensive answer, and Phantom puts his hands up in surrender. 

“Not in concept.” He shrugs and joins Kon near the tubes. “But not a lot of people ask before making clones.”

“So I don’t need to sic Superman on you?” Obviously Kon could chew Phantom out himself, but few can do a “not mad, just disappointed” face better than Clark. 

Phantom scrunches his face. “Why would you need to?” 

Kon stops pretending to inspect the tube and stares at Phantom. “You do know I’m a clone, right?” The blank look on Phantom’s face tells him that no, he did not. “Well I am. Clone of Superman, though we’re pretty much brothers now.”

“Cool,” Phantom says, not a bit less friendly. He hesitates for a second before continuing, “Could I maybe ask you how you got there? Me and my clone have landed on cousins, but that was also, like, given to us by her evil dad. So.”

Phantom trails off. Huh, that makes three members of the team that have been cloned. Not a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened three times. 

“You’re making sure she feels accepted, right?” 

“Yeah! Well, whenever she’s around. She,” Phantom waves his hand around, looking for the right word, “She’s a wanderer. Exploring the world and stuff. But Richard has a room for her at home, and I remind her of that whenever she does stop by.” 

“Well, first of all, don’t push it so hard,” Kon says. Phantom nods enthusiastically. “And second, who’s Richard?”

Kon doesn’t know a lot of Richards, and he doesn’t think that Phantom ever mentioned one before. Or even if he remembers his living life. 

“Oh, he’s my, uh, guardian? I guess that’s the best term. The guy I’m living with who forces me to go to school sometimes.” Phantom looks away and back to the tubes. 

Before Kon can ask for more details, Robin and Empress come in with a report of dead computers and wanting to know where they’re at with the cloning room.

They’re unimpressed with their lack of progress.

Two

Wally doesn’t really need to come by the Hamilton Lodge that often, not when that’s Young Justice’s territory and he doesn’t want to get involved in all of That.

But Red Tornado said that the team has a file on a planet that’s very quickly becoming a league problem, and he figured it might be a good time to try to check in with Bart, anyway. Make sure he hasn’t run any cars off cliffs again and all that. 

So he stops by Manchester to ask Bart about the file, then they both head East to actually find it. 

When they arrive at the hotel minutes later, Wally’s surprised to actually find it… clean? There’s no visible trash or overturned furniture or anything else he’d expect from an abandoned hotel filled with teenagers. Well, maybe not filled, lately. He doesn’t think anyone’s living here currently, with Greta at Elias’ for the school year and Slobo gone. 

Still, the room smells slightly of artificial pine scent, and Bart perks up before disappearing and reappearing rapidly, holding a teammate up by his armpits. Said teammate just accepts this, his legs folding into a wispy tail, and head rolling against his shoulders. 

“This is Phantom!” Bart holds him up higher. Phantom waves. Wally’s only heard of him through Max’s updates, the same way he would hear about Preston or Carol, but with more wariness about the supposed ghost. 

Actually looking at the pale face and glowing green eyes contrasting against the darker than dark jumpsuit, Wally’s a little more ready to accept his claim at being undead. 

“He stress cleans,” Bart explains, moving to carry Phantom under his arm. Wally bites down the urge to tell him to put him down, but only because Phantom doesn’t resist the hold, only moving to get into a more comfortable position. His hands are touching the floor. “So what happened?” 

Bart directs the question downwards, and Phantom heaves a very dramatic sigh. Definitely a teenager. It does raise the question of who exactly this kid’s mentor is. Hopefully he does have one. Maybe he’s the Spectre’s kid?

Phantom phases through the arm holding him only to lay on top of Bart’s hair. “I accidentally called Richard dad. And then fled.” 

Bart nods sagely. “Classic. One time I accidentally called Max dad, so I had to start a fire to distract him.”

Phantom sighs again, almost dreamily. “Genius.” 

Wally doesn’t have time to unpack all of that. Well he does, but he’s not going to, because there’s really only one Richard that comes to mind that might have the heart to take in a dead kid, even if he doesn’t go by his full name.

But surely Dick would have told him, or any other Titan, if he had adopted a kid. Right?

But there’s still a little shadow of doubt. Maybe Dick wanted it to be a secret, or it was really new or had a rocky start. Phantom doesn’t seem to hold himself like a Bat, but it’s not a guarantee Dick would have trained him. 

“The lodge looks nice,” Wally offers out loud, which Phantom shrugs at and wraps his tail around Bart’s head to keep secure. “Anyway, Impulse. The file on Myrg?” 

“Oh yeah!” Again, Bart disappears then reappears a few seconds later with a paper file. They really need to start digitizing more of these things. “That’s the planet where we played baseball so that they wouldn’t destroy Earth!” 

“You what.” 

The prospect of Dick following in his dad’s footsteps is forgotten in the face of what the hell Young Justice got up to on Myrg. 

Three

Tim may be in a…Predicament. 

It’s not his fault. Really. He knew what he was doing. He couldn’t let a civilian fall for the trap. But they were already so close, so he just, kinda, pushed himself into the rope instead. 

So there Robin is, tied upside down in a warehouse, with the Joker below next to an overly complicated control panel. The clown’s rambling about bombs hidden all over the city that Tim knows Batman is already tracking down with Batgirl. 

Tim’s not really paying attention to the rant because of that, more focused on wiggling enough to get the spare mini-birdarang out of his glove to cut the rope without notifying the Joker. 

“Yikes, bad time?” Asks Phantom’s voice beside him. Based on the source and accounting for the slight echo, he’s floating with his head near Tim’s, likely upside down. “Want some help?” 

Tim gets the birdarang out and starts sawing at the thick rope. They should be fine anyway, but stalling the Joker for extra time would be helpful. “Can you possess the Joker? Just hold him still.”

“The correct term is overshadow, but sure.” The voice disappears, and a few seconds later the Joker freezes. 

His body jerks forward, then backward, and a laugh chokes out of his throat. His hand claws over his mouth at the noise and he hunches over. All movement halts before he rights himself, shaking out his hands and rolling his shoulders. Phantom looks up at Tim and his eyes are glowing. 

Tim cuts through the rope, kicking and using the momentum to right himself and land on his feet. He brushes past Phantom in Joker’s body to handle the control panel. He turns off the radio broadcast and dismantles the bomb strapped to the panel.

Threat handled, he turns to Phantom and holds up some handcuffs. “Let me arrest you?”

Phantom obliges, turning the Joker’s body around and putting his hands behind his back. Tim lets him walk by himself out of the warehouse and moves the handcuffs around a lamppost. The Joker’s body jerks again, then slumps forward, just as Phantom reappears next to him, scowling down at the unconscious body. 

“That felt really slimy. Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Phantom grouches. 

“Why’re you in Gotham?” Tim asks. It’s not like Phantom makes a habit of visiting. The last time he came into the city, he complained about feeling the dead under the streets. Fortunately, that let Tim uncover a few tunnels that Talons travel through. Phantom, however, was unnerved by the Talons and left quickly. 

“Oh, Solomon Grundy’s back in our sewers. Richard said I should probably tell one of you Gotham heroes, since you keep track of those guys.” He shakes out his hands like they were cramped in the Joker. 

They hadn’t seen Grundy in a while. Tim assumed he was currently in a less violent personality. “What’s he doing?” 

Phantom shrugs. “Just chilling. Mostly underground. I tried to talk to him but he only grunted back at me. He also tried to pick me up, dunno what that was about.”

“Maybe because you’re both dead?” Tim guessed. That would be a surface level connection. Ivy and Woodrue have had more luck working with Grundy than anyone, and Phantom definitely doesn’t have the connection to the Green that’d help with that. 

Police lights turn around the corner, and Tim shoots a grapple to get to the roof above them. Phantom follows, but disappears as soon as they’re on the roof. Going back home, probably. 

Cass drops down from the roof she was listening on. “Richard?”

“Not the same one.”

They both stick around long enough to watch the Joker get put into the cop car. 

Plus one

A spaceship landed in the forests of New York, and Cassie’s team was the first to respond to it. Technically not respond, but check it out, since there wasn’t any alert or anything. 

Still, Wonder Girl has Empress, Robin, and Superboy on the other side of the ship, watching what looks like the back door, while she, Impulse, and Phantom watch the other door and main window. She has binoculars, but the windows are so tinted she can’t quite make anything out. 

No aliens have come out yet, and she hesitates to have anyone go in, in case whoever inside does turn hostile. 

Impulse has offered to run through a total of five times already, and it’s a testament to his restraint that he hasn’t, and a testament to Cassie’s that she hasn’t yelled at him yet. Phantom at least isn’t being annoying, but he’s not necessarily helpful, either. He’s not even watching the spaceship anymore. Now he’s trying to make a flower crown out of dandelions. 

“Door’s opening on our side,” Robin says from the comms. “But no one’s coming out.” 

“Alright, good enough to try to get in,” Cassie decides. She turns to Phantom, who’s closing off the circle of flowers. Beside him, Impulse has since pulled out a gameboy. “Phantom, go in invisibly through the open door and report back. Try to see what their plans are.” 

“Oh, sure. One second.” Phantom finishes the crown and tries to put it on Bart’s head. It doesn’t quite fit over his mane of hair, but Phantom shrugs and leaves it sitting there anyway before going invisible. 

“Maybe I should shave my head again,” Bart says as his game character dies. 

He gets a resounding no in response. 

Half an hour later they have a very annoyed Green Lantern lecturing them about league jurisdiction and knowing when to call someone else. 

Apparently, the alien ship was just stopping to complete some maintenance, and did not appreciate any spying on them, and especially did not appreciate who did it. Green Lantern was more than happy to explain that Wonder Girl’s team is not really a part of the Justice League and he can help with their maintenance. They denied his help and left to find a place with less people in it. 

“-and you!” Green Lantern rounds on Phantom next, but Cassie knows none of them are really listening. Sure, they messed up by freaking out the visiting aliens, and yeah maybe they should have contacted the league about it, but they’ve dealt with stuff worse than this! It’s not Cassie’s fault she thought that this would have stuck to the formula. 

“Who even are you?” Green Lantern runs a hand through his black hair, stupid green gauntlets shining in the sunlight. “Do I need to call your mentor?” He frowns. “Or do they know you mess up alien technology by just being around it?” 

Phantom scoffs and rolls his eyes. “How was I supposed to know their tech would go all fuzzy when I came in?” 

“You wouldn’t have to know if you just stayed out of the spaceship!” 

“Hey!” Cassie cuts in. “Technically that was my call. It’s not all on Phantom.”

“I still could've been more careful,” Phantom says to her, ignoring Green Lantern as they argue about blame. 

“Cut it out for a second, okay?” Green Lantern puts a hand between them and they stop to glare at him. He pulls the hand back. “Look, can I just talk to one of your adults about this?” 

Robin glares. “We don’t need an adult. We have this under control.”

“Only because I’m here now.” 

“I’ll call my mentor,” Phantom says. Kon opens his mouth, most likely to offer to call Superman instead in hopes of a lighter sentence, but Bart covers his mouth, smiling like he knows something Cassie doesn’t. Tim and Anita share a look, and don’t intervene as Phantom pulls out a phone from his chest. 

It rings once before it’s picked up. Cassie can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Kon’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Hey, do you think you can pick me up? Green Lantern wants to talk to you.” Phantom looks Green Lantern up and down then says, “No, this one doesn’t have a cape.”

Phantom says goodbye after rattling off their coordinates, hangs up, and stares at Green Lantern in silence for a few seconds. 

And then a swirling mass of black seeps into the space next to Phantom. The end of a cane steps out of it, followed by a leg, then the rest of the immaculately dressed man holding the handle of the cane that’s shaped like a bird’s head. 

“Phantom,” The man says. His voice drips with condescension in only a way a british accent can, yet Phantom smiles up at him. The shadowy portal behind him disappears. “What, exactly, happened?”

“That’s the fucking Shade,” Anita hisses to Robin, who shrugs noncommittedly at her. Green Lantern seems to recognise him too, taking a step back and clenching his hand that holds his ring. 

“Well, the team and I were staking out this spaceship–super cool, by the way–and I went inside to check it out, but my presence messed with their tech–which was an accident–and they freaked out, so I freaked out, and then we kinda got into a little fight until Green Lantern came to mediate.”

“Hm. Is that right?” The Shade asks Green Lantern, who nods slowly, still anticipating an attack. “It seems like the problem’s fixed, then.”

“Well, yes, but–”

“And it does seem about time for these kids to get home, doesn't it?” The Shade pulls out an actual pocket watch, chain and all, from his suit pocket and takes his time in checking it. “I’ll see them home.” 

Shadows grow from behind the team, swirling until they become a giant, gaping maw that swallows them up and spits them out in a different forest, or maybe just a different part of the same forest. 

Either way, Cassie has to take a moment to make sure she doesn’t throw up from the sudden vertigo the shadow portal caused. 

The Shade looks at Phantom, and raises an eyebrow. “You can’t expect me to always bail you out.” 

Phantom shrugs, looking guilty. “I know. Thanks, Richard.”

Oh, so that’s who Richard is. Annoyingly, neither Tim or Bart look surprised by this revelation.

[stealingyourbones]

Danny, being a halfa, falls under the strange category of people who can converse with the dead and act in their names. Most mediums simply convey messages. It was rare for someone to be able to fulfill a ghost’s dying request and have that act tied to the ghost’s core.

Honestly it’s annoying.

He doesn’t get any alone time anymore for homework or hobbies. The dead are constantly pestering Danny to help with their desires - which, sure, it helps them move on which means they’re out of Danny’s hair, but come on!! Give a guy a break! Just because he doesn’t need as much sleep as a fully living person doesn’t mean he can go without entirely!

“No Scott,” Danny repeated for the fifth time, “I am not flying to California tonight. Do you know how far that is? Literally the other coast of this massive continent. Meet me there in August like everyone else on the list.”

Spending the first spring break of college creating a map and calendar for Last Rites was not something Danny expected when he moved to Gotham.

Why did this city have so many ghosts?! It was ridiculous. And he thought Amity Park was bad? At least the ghosts here were mostly Shades. Not visible to anyone unless they were also dead-adjacent or had The Sight or a bloodline curse or a magical amulet… you know what? There were enough of those in this curse ridden city, why couldn’t these ghosts go find one of those people instead? Danny was exhausted.

So exhausted he didn’t notice the vigilante dropping down from the rooftop.

“Hey there kid, you alri-”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny waved a hand dismissively at the voice without looking up. “Wait in line like everyone else. But honestly you’d be better off coming back tomorrow when I’ve had some sleep.”

“Think maybe you outta get started on that sleep now, bud?” the voice behind him spoke in a calm careful tone.

One Danny had heard all too often since dying.

His head jerked sideways to stare wide-eyed at Nightwing, who tensed just a little as if expecting Danny to run or fight. Instead he let out a groan and slumped onto the park bench, rubbing his eyes to ease the burn of fatigue. He’d been coming out to this park at the corner of campus each night to keep the Shades from mobbing him all day long in classes, but they’d spread the word around Gotham that he was here and his precious spring break had become a non-stop line of requests and arguments. Made sense he’d caught the attention of one of the Bats. Should have expected it sooner.

Danny ignored all the voices around him and looked at Nightwing directly as he prattled off his usual list when someone caught him talking to thin air.

“No, I’m not hallucinating. I got all my Rogue Gallery immunizations the day I checked onto campus. I’m not schizophrenic. The only meds I take are for adhd and the occasional Tylenol. I’m not a danger to myself or others. Unless they attack me first.”

Nightwing nodded along, but tilted his head at the end.

“I’m talking to the dead,” Danny answered the unspoken question in a tired monotone, waiting for the usual skepticism or plea for help with lost loved ones.

“Oh. Okay then.”

“What?” That wasn’t expected.

“No yeah, that makes sense.”

Danny was sure his jaw was on the ground. “You… you believe me?”

“Well sure,” the hero shrugged and chuckled. “I can’t see ghosts myself but I know a couple magicians who work with one, and my little brother Robin has a ghost on his team - she’s actually visible most of the time so I don’t know if that’s a special skill or something else going on. But I’m glad you’re okay and don’t need any emergency medication. I know a couple 24 hour pharmacies that would help but it’s nice when they’re not needed. We don’t get a lot of mediums around Gotham holding court at night so you really can’t fault me for checking in.”

Danny was still floating in the relief of not being questioned or doubted. That hadn’t happened since Jazz found out his secret. She’d had plenty of questions about his halfa status, of course, but never called him crazy for talking to things others couldn’t see. Even Sam and Tucker would forget sometimes and give him strange looks before realizing he was dealing with a Shade, Wisp, or Memory.

He didn’t realize he was wobbling until Nightwing’s arms shot out to stabilize him.

Danny blinked up at the pretty face that was trying not to chuckle, held by strong arms, and so far past tired he might be getting delirious after all because his brain seemed to have lost its filter and he said out loud,

“You actually believe me. I think I love you.”

Then the horrifying embarrassment hit at the same time as Nightwing’s laughter. Which… sounded delighted rather than mean spirited?

“Well now it’s your turn to wait in line, cuz that’s the fourth confession I’ve had this week!” They both devolved into snorts and giggles, Danny still relying on those arms for balance, but when they’d caught their breath the vigilante said, “Come on, you’ve really got to get some sleep. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

Ignoring the whispers and grumbles of the Shades was easier with someone walking beside him.

This is so incredibly cute oml. It’s so rare to see the bats actually go with the flow and god it isn’t done enough. 12/10 immaculate, glorious.

The entire plot I can see so clearly in my mind dude:

Danny chatting to Nightwing as they walk to his dorm

Nightwing asking some casual questions about ghosts and Danny asking about vigilante work.

Nightwing informs the Bats of Danny as he might be a valuable asset in the future.

Nightwing helps free shades with Danny and he realizes why Danny is so incredibly tired all the time.

Nightwing managing to stumble into Danny every day of his break, slowly getting to know each other more and more and becoming really good friends (perhaps lovers 👀).

Wonderful stuff man ty for the ask!

[elikajinnie]

Steal Your Way To My Heart - N.R (Part 1)

P: Bankrobber! Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Requested by: @badtzsan (hope you like it <3)

Warnings: Teasing, Pursuing, Murder, Kidnapping, Violence, Obsession, Stalking, Flirting, Ni-ki just wanna cover you in jewels tbh.

Synopsis: Your life was boring—until a visit to the bank changes everything. Now you find yourself under the attention of one of the criminals. Now what do you do when the criminal's attention isn't just on the job but on you?

a/n: inspired by false alarm mv by the weeknd pr request :)

See request here

--

Your days were always underwhelming.

You’d wake up to the sound of your alarm, drag yourself out of bed, and go through the same motions: school, then work, then home. Over and over, like clockwork. And somewhere along the line, it became suffocating.

Each morning felt heavier than the last, your feet dragging like you were wading through wet cement. You found yourself staring out windows more often than not, watching the world pass you by. Same streets, same faces, same everything.

You craved something more. Something to set your blood pumping, your heart racing. You didn’t just want change—you needed it. The kind of adrenaline that would make you feel alive again, remind you that there was more out there than just this monotonous cycle you’d been stuck in.

But nothing ever happened.

You’d given up on expecting it. Change, excitement, anything—it wasn’t in the cards for you. At least, that’s what you thought.

Until one morning.

You were running late for work, your bag slung haphazardly over your shoulder as you weaved through the crowded streets. The morning rush wasn’t anything new, but you were moving too fast, too distracted, and you didn’t even notice the figure walking toward you until it was too late.

You crashed into him with enough force to make you stumble back a step. Your bag slipped from your shoulder, scattering its contents onto the sidewalk.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” you gasped, immediately crouching to gather your things.

“No, it’s my fault,” came the response, a smooth, low voice that made you pause mid-grab.

You glanced up, an automatic, polite apology ready on your lips—but it never made it out.

Your breath caught.

He was tall, towering over you even as he crouched to help pick up your things. Dark hair framed a sharp jawline, his skin smooth and flawless in the morning light. But it was his eyes that held you captive—piercing, intense, like they could see right through you. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“You okay?” he asked, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You blinked, snapping out of your daze. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry again, I wasn’t paying attention.”

He handed you your phone, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment. “Don’t worry about it. Happens to the best of us.”

You stood together, and now that you were face-to-face, the sheer presence of him was almost overwhelming. There was something about him that felt… off. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Like he wasn’t supposed to be here, in this moment, colliding with you.

“Well, uh…” you began awkwardly, suddenly hyperaware of how plain your uniform looked compared to how effortlessly cool he was. “Thanks.”

Before he could respond, the distant chime of your phone’s clock reminded you that you were late—really late.

“I have to go,” you blurted, clutching your bag tightly.

He smiled again, softer this time, and nodded. “Of course. See you around…?”

You didn’t answer, too flustered as you turned and hurried off. But as you glanced back over your shoulder, he was still standing there, watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite place.

You didn’t know it then, but that moment would change everything.

You didn’t know it at first.

How could you? To you, it had just been a fleeting moment, an odd yet strangely thrilling encounter with a handsome stranger. Sure, his face had lingered in your mind longer than you’d like to admit, but life didn’t stop just because you ran into someone attractive.

Day after day, you returned to your routine: school, work, home. And yet… something felt different. Subtle, at first—like a faint whisper at the back of your mind. You’d catch yourself glancing over your shoulder as you walked down the street, or feeling your pulse quicken when a shadow flickered in your peripheral vision.

But you brushed it off. You were overthinking things, you told yourself. It was probably just your imagination playing tricks on you.

You didn’t know that it wasn’t.

Because he was watching you.

The same guy you’d crashed into that morning. Day after day, he followed you. He was careful, almost eerily so. He stayed just far enough away that you’d never notice. Blended into the crowd so seamlessly that you’d never think to look twice.

But he was there. Always.

He saw the way you rushed into work, cheeks flushed from the cold or the stress of running late. He saw the way you smiled politely at customers, even when they were rude to you. He saw the way your shoulders slumped when you thought no one was looking, the weariness of your routine weighing you down.

He saw you.

And every day, he learned more.

Your patterns, your habits. The exact time you’d leave your apartment in the morning. The small café you stopped by occasionally, ordering the same drink every time. The way you lingered outside the bookstore window after work, staring at the same display of novels you never seemed to have time to read.

You were fascinating to him.

But it wasn’t just fascination—it was something darker. Something possessive.

And it wasn’t long before the distance he kept began to shrink.

One night, as you left work later than usual, the streetlights barely illuminating the empty sidewalk ahead of you, you felt it again—that nagging feeling, like someone was watching you.

You glanced behind you, but there was nothing. Just the empty street stretching out behind you, silent except for the faint hum of distant traffic.

You shook your head, scolding yourself for being paranoid.

But as you turned back around, you didn’t see the figure slipping into the shadows, just a few steps behind where you’d been standing.

He was getting closer. And you still didn’t know.

He kept his distance, always careful, always calculated.

Day after day, he followed you, studying every detail of your life like it was a puzzle he needed to solve. But he never showed himself. Not yet.

He learned the way you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought, the way your lips pressed into a thin line when you were frustrated, and the soft laugh you let out when you read something funny on your phone. He memorized your patterns as if they were sacred—your favorite routes, the way you adjusted your pace when the streets were crowded, and the shortcuts you took when you were running late.

And still, you didn’t know.

But you began to feel it.

The unease settled in your chest like a stone, heavier each passing day. You couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was there—watching, waiting. When you walked home at night, the silence felt too loud, the shadows too alive. You found yourself glancing over your shoulder more often, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t explain.

But no one was ever there.

You started locking your doors twice before bed, pulling the curtains closed even though you’d always liked the city lights spilling into your room. You told yourself you were just being paranoid. That nothing was wrong.

But he was getting bolder.

One night, as you walked home, your bag slung over your shoulder and your headphones in, you felt it again—that prickling sensation on the back of your neck. Your steps faltered, your hand tightening around the strap of your bag.

You paused and looked around, the dim streetlights casting long, eerie shadows on the empty road.

There was no one there.

You shook your head, muttering to yourself about how ridiculous you were being, and picked up your pace.

Behind you, in the shadows, he stood perfectly still, his head tilting ever so slightly as he watched you disappear down the street.

He could have reached out. Could have closed the distance between you. Could have made himself known.

But he didn’t. Not yet.

--

The bank was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional shuffle of feet. You sat on a plastic chair near the wall, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, half-distracted by notifications you didn’t care enough to open.

It was late on a Friday, and the place was nearly empty—a few tellers behind the counter, a couple arguing softly over paperwork, a man in a suit sitting near the door, tapping his foot impatiently.

You weren’t expecting much. Just another mundane errand to tick off your never-ending list of obligations.

Then they walked in.

The doors burst open, slamming against the walls with a loud bang that echoed through the room. You looked up instinctively, your fingers freezing over your phone screen.

There were four of them, maybe five—it was hard to tell in the chaos that followed. They were dressed head to toe in black, their faces hidden behind masks: a snarling wolf, a grinning clown, a featureless white face, and a grotesque demon.

And they were armed.

“Everyone on the floor!” one of them barked, his voice distorted through the mask, the barrel of his gun sweeping across the room.

Your heart dropped, your body reacting before your brain could catch up. You slid off the chair and onto the floor, your phone slipping from your hands as you pressed yourself flat against the cold tiles. Around you, the other people in the bank were doing the same—some crying softly, others frozen in stunned silence.

“Hands where we can see them!” another one shouted, their voice sharper, more aggressive.

You obeyed, trembling as you stretched your arms out in front of you. Your breaths came in short, panicked gasps, the floor suddenly feeling too hard, too cold, too close.

One of the masked figures strode past you, their boots heavy against the floor. You flinched as they moved, your body instinctively shrinking in on itself.

You tried not to look up, to stay small and invisible, but your gaze flicked upward for just a second—and you saw the wolf-masked figure staring right at you.

The mask tilted slightly, as if they were studying you. You froze, your blood running cold as your eyes locked with the dark voids of the mask’s eye holes.

“Keep your head down,” the figure growled, their voice low and menacing.

You dropped your gaze immediately, your entire body trembling as you pressed your forehead against the floor.

Behind you, one of the robbers barked orders to the tellers, demanding cash. The sounds of drawers opening, paper rustling, and the muffled sobs of a teller filled the room.

“Move faster!” another one snapped, slamming their hand against the counter.

The tension in the air was suffocating, every second stretching into what felt like an eternity. Your mind raced, a whirlwind of panic and fear. What did they want? Would they hurt someone? Would they hurt you?

You didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe too loudly.

But amidst the chaos, a thought nagged at the back of your mind—this wasn’t random. The timing, the masks, the precision. Something about it felt deliberate.

And then, you felt it again—that same sensation that had been haunting you for days.

The feeling of being watched.

Slowly, carefully, you shifted your eyes to the side, just enough to see the wolf-masked figure standing a few feet away. Their head was turned toward you again, their stance unnervingly still compared to the chaos around them.

It was like they weren’t even focused on the heist anymore.

They were focused on you.

The chaos continued to unfold around you, the masked figures shouting commands and waving their guns as the tellers scrambled to fill duffel bags with cash. The sound of drawers slamming and the occasional muffled sob of a hostage filled the air, but all you could focus on was the crushing weight of fear in your chest.

Then the clown came closer.

You didn’t see him at first, too focused on staying still and small, but you felt the shadow looming over you. A pair of scuffed boots came into your view, stopping just inches from your head.

"Well, well, look at this," the clown mask sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

You barely had time to flinch before he noticed your phone lying on the floor, just by your head. He chuckled darkly, lifting his boot and slamming it down onto the device with enough force to shatter it into pieces. The crack of the screen echoed through the room, making you jump.

“No phones!” he shouted, crouching down just enough to get in your face. His mask’s grinning expression felt mocking, his gun now pointed directly at your temple.

Your blood turned ice-cold as you froze, your breath catching in your throat.

“What do we have here?” he taunted, leaning in closer. “You trying to be a hero? Huh? Recording us, maybe?”

“No!” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t, I swear!”

The barrel of the gun pressed harder against your temple, and you clenched your eyes shut, shaking uncontrollably. “You better not be lying to me,” he hissed.

But before he could say anything else, a hand shoved him hard, knocking him off balance.

“Back off!” the wolf snapped, his voice sharp and commanding.

The clown stumbled but caught himself, turning to glare at the wolf. “What’s your problem?” he spat.

“The money’s the priority,” the wolf said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not wasting time threatening some random girl.”

For a moment, the clown hesitated, his finger twitching near the trigger as he glanced between you and the wolf. You held your breath, terrified of what he might do.

Finally, with a frustrated growl, he stepped back, lowering his gun. “Fine. Whatever.” He shot you one last glare before storming off toward the counters, muttering under his breath.

The wolf lingered for a moment, his masked face still angled toward you. Even though you couldn’t see his expression, you felt his eyes boring into you, assessing you, as if silently telling you to stay put and stay quiet.

Then he turned and walked away, joining the others as they stuffed more cash into their bags.

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure everyone in the room could hear it. You stayed frozen on the floor, trembling, as the chaos continued around you.

Before you could even begin to process what had just happened, a gloved hand yanked you up by your arm.

“Get up!” a rough voice barked behind the grotesque demon mask.

Your legs wobbled as you were hauled to your feet, your body stiff with terror. “Wait—what are you doing? Let me go!” you stammered, trying to pull away, but the grip on your arm was like iron.

The wolf approached swiftly, his movements precise and deliberate. He didn’t say a word as he reached into his bag, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. You froze, your breath hitching as he grabbed your wrists, forcing them together in front of you.

The cold steel bit into your skin as the cuffs clicked shut.

“W-Why are you doing this?” you pleaded, panic rising in your voice.

The wolf didn’t answer. He only exchanged a glance with the demon, and before you knew it, they were dragging you toward the counter, your shoes scuffing against the tiled floor as you struggled.

“Stop! Please!” you cried, thrashing against their hold, but it was no use. They were too strong.

They pulled you around the counter, past the terrified tellers huddled on the floor, and toward a back door you hadn’t even noticed before. The demon shoved the door open, and that’s when it happened.

Gunfire erupted, the sound splitting the air like thunder. You screamed, instinctively ducking as chaos exploded around you.

The cops were here.

Bullets tore through the doorframe, shards of wood and plaster flying everywhere as the robbers scrambled for cover. The wolf yanked you to the side, his grip on your arm unrelenting as he pulled you out of the line of fire. The demon cursed loudly, returning fire with his assault rifle as the clown and the others shouted orders.

You were caught in the middle of it all, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it would break through your ribs.

“Move! Move!” the wolf barked, dragging you further back into the bank as the others laid down suppressive fire.

You stumbled over your own feet, the cuffs cutting into your wrists as you were manhandled left and right. The gunfire was deafening, each shot sending a jolt of terror through your body.

“Let me go!” you screamed, tears streaming down your face as you tried to resist.

But they didn’t listen. The demon shoved you forward, almost knocking you over, while the wolf kept a firm hold on your arm, steering you toward what looked like a service entrance.

“Take her through the alley!” one of the robbers shouted—maybe the clown, you couldn’t tell anymore.

“No time!” the demon snapped. “They’ve got the back covered too!”

More gunfire erupted, and you ducked again, your ears ringing from the sheer volume of the shots. The smell of gunpowder and fear was thick in the air, suffocating you as you were dragged further into the chaos.

The fire exit door slammed open, and chaos followed you into the cold night air.

Gunshots cracked like thunder around you as the masked robbers fired wildly at the police closing in from all sides. You stumbled as they dragged you forward, your wrists aching against the cuffs, your legs barely able to keep up.

“Cover me!” the demon barked, his assault rifle spraying bullets toward the flashing red-and-blue lights in the distance.

The wolf, still gripping your arm, yanked you harder, pulling you toward a white van that screeched to a halt just ahead. Its tires skidded on the asphalt, smoke billowing around it. The sliding door flung open, and you barely had time to register the driver—a figure in a grotesque zombie mask—before the robbers began throwing the bags of money into the back.

“Get in!” the clown yelled, his voice sharp and frantic.

You resisted, digging your heels into the ground as they tried to force you forward. “No! Let me go!” you screamed, thrashing wildly.

The demon growled in frustration and shoved you forward. “Quit fighting, or I’ll give you a reason to stop!”

Your body collided with the hard interior of the van as the wolf hoisted you up and shoved you inside. The smell of leather and gasoline filled your nose as you landed on your side, your hands still bound in front of you.

“Move!” the zombie driver shouted, his voice muffled but commanding.

The demon and the clown scrambled into the van, slamming the door shut as the wolf climbed in last, still holding his weapon.

The van roared to life, its engine growling as it sped off, tires screeching against the pavement.

You were thrown to the side as the van lurched forward, and you struggled to push yourself upright, your heart racing as panic set in. Outside the windows, flashes of blue and red danced in the dark, and the distant wail of sirens grew louder.

“They’re right on us!” the clown shouted, peering out the back window.

“Then lose them!” the demon snapped, slamming a fresh magazine into his gun.

The zombie swerved the van violently, narrowly avoiding a blockade of police cars as bullets ricocheted off the metal exterior. The robbers fired back through the open windows, their weapons deafening in the cramped space.

You pressed yourself against the corner of the van, your knees tucked to your chest as the chaos unfolded around you. Your ears rang from the gunfire, your body shaking uncontrollably as you watched the masked figures shout and fire, their movements chaotic yet disturbingly practiced.

One of the cops’ vehicles pulled up alongside the van, its siren blaring as an officer leaned out the window, aiming a weapon.

“Take them out!” the demon ordered.

The clown let out a sharp laugh, rolling down the window and leaning out with his rifle. “With pleasure.”

The van swerved again as he fired, the sound of bullets tearing through the air making you scream. The police car veered off course, skidding to a halt as its tires blew out, sending sparks flying.

“Hell yeah!” the clown shouted, slapping the side of the van as he ducked back inside.

The wolf, sitting closest to you, glanced your way. His mask tilted slightly, as if he were studying you again, his body unnervingly calm compared to the others.

You pressed yourself further into the corner, your breath coming in shallow gasps. “Please,” you whimpered, your voice trembling. “Why are you doing this? Just let me go!”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, the zombie yelled from the driver’s seat, “We’re clear for now, but they’ll be on us again soon! Where’s the next checkpoint?”

The demon pulled out a map, spreading it across the floor of the van. “Couple miles out. We ditch the van there and split up.”

“And her?” the clown asked, jerking his head in your direction. “What do we do with her?”

The air in the van grew heavier, the question hanging like a loaded gun.

“She stays,” the wolf said firmly, his voice low.

The others exchanged glances, but no one argued.

You stared at him, your mind racing. Why? Why did he insist on keeping you?

You pressed your back harder against the cold metal wall of the van, your knees drawn up to your chest. Every fiber of your being screamed to fight, to yell, to do something—anything—but you didn’t. You stayed quiet, hoping that silence would keep you alive.

The robbers kept moving, the van swerving sharply as the zombie masked driver navigated the dark streets. Every turn jostled you, the cuffs on your wrists digging into your skin.

“Are we clear?” the clown asked, his voice tense as he peered out the back window.

“Not yet,” the demon growled, his rifle resting on his lap as he reloaded. “They’ll catch up. We need to move faster.”

“They can’t keep up,” the zombie argued from the front. “I know these streets. We’ll lose them soon.”

The van fell into a tense silence, the occasional crackle of the police radio chatter outside filtering through the open window. You kept your head down, your breaths shallow, trying to make yourself as small and invisible as possible.

But the weight of the wolf’s gaze was still on you.

You could feel it without even looking up, the way he sat so still compared to the others. It was like he was watching you, studying your every move, even though you weren’t making any.

Finally, the clown broke the silence with a loud sigh. “This is getting boring,” he muttered, leaning back against the van wall. “We should’ve left her behind. Dead weight.”

You flinched at his words, your hands trembling as you clenched them tightly together.

“She’s insurance,” the wolf said coldly, his tone cutting through the air like a blade. “In case things go south.”

“Insurance, huh?” the clown sneered, tilting his head toward you. “She doesn’t look like much. What are you gonna do? Use her as a human shield?”

The wolf didn’t respond.

“Enough,” the demon snapped, silencing the clown with a glare. “She’s here. That’s the end of it.”

The clown grumbled under his breath but said nothing more, turning his attention back to the window.

You glanced up briefly, your eyes darting to the wolf. He was sitting across from you, his posture relaxed yet somehow alert. His mask tilted slightly, as if he knew you were looking at him.

You quickly looked away, your pulse quickening.

The van suddenly jerked to the side, making everyone lurch forward.

“Checkpoint’s up ahead,” the zombie announced, his voice calm but firm. “Get ready to move.”

The tension in the van grew heavier as the others prepared themselves, checking their weapons and adjusting their masks.

You stayed frozen, your mind racing. What would happen at the checkpoint? Would they let you go? Or was this just the beginning of something worse?

The wolf shifted in his seat, leaning closer to you. You tensed as his gloved hand reached out, grabbing the chain of the cuffs around your wrists.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he said quietly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you nodded shakily, unable to muster the strength to speak.

The van slowed to a stop, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires.

The demon opened the sliding door, his rifle at the ready. “Move,” he ordered, gesturing for everyone to get out.

The clown and the wolf exited first, guns drawn as they scanned the area. The zombie stayed in the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the wheel tightly, ready to bolt if things went sideways.

Then the demon turned to you.

“Let’s go,” he growled, grabbing your arm and yanking you out of the van.

The night air hit you like a slap, cold and sharp, as you stumbled onto the gravel.

The wolf was by your side in an instant, his hand on your arm again, steadying you. It wasn’t comforting. It was a reminder that you weren’t going anywhere.You were then half-dragged, half-pushed toward a row of hidden vehicles parked in the shadows of the industrial area. Engines roared to life as the robbers split up, each group climbing into separate cars.

The wolf steered you toward a sleek black car, opening the passenger door and shoving you inside with startling precision. Before you could even think of resisting, he leaned over, pulling the seat belt across your body and fastening it with a decisive click.

The movement was quick but strangely careful, as if ensuring you wouldn’t get hurt. You stared at him, breathless and wide-eyed, as he settled into the driver’s seat without a word.

The clown slid into the back seat, slamming the door shut behind him. “Let’s move!” he barked, his tone impatient.

The wolf didn’t reply. He simply started the engine, his gloved hands gripping the wheel as the car roared to life. Without hesitation, he pressed the gas, the tires screeching against the pavement as the car sped off into the night.

Through the rearview mirror, you could see the other vehicles peeling off in different directions, each taking a separate route to evade the cops.

The silence in the car was deafening, broken only by the hum of the engine and the faint sound of sirens fading into the distance.

You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, your hands clenched in your lap as you tried to steady your breathing. The wolf’s presence beside you was overwhelming, his calm demeanor in stark contrast to the chaos you had just witnessed.

From the back seat, the clown let out a sharp laugh. “Man, did you see the look on those cops’ faces? Like they didn’t even know what hit ‘em!”

The wolf didn’t respond, his focus entirely on the road ahead.

The clown leaned forward, resting his elbows on the back of your seat. “So, what’s the plan with her, huh?” he asked, jerking his thumb toward you.

You flinched, your shoulders tensing as his attention shifted to you.

The wolf’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, but his voice remained steady. “She’s coming with us. That’s all you need to know.”

The clown scoffed, sitting back again. “You’re getting soft, Wolf. Letting her ride shotgun like she’s part of the team or something.”

The wolf glanced at you briefly, his mask hiding whatever expression might have crossed his face. Then he turned his attention back to the road.

“She’s leverage,” he said simply.

The clown muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t push the subject any further.

You turned your head toward the window, watching the dark streets blur past as the car sped through empty intersections and winding back roads. The reality of the situation was beginning to sink in, the adrenaline fading just enough to leave you with a sick, hollow feeling in your chest.

You were completely at their mercy, trapped with no way out.

And yet, there was something strange about the wolf.

He hadn’t hurt you—not like the others. He hadn’t yelled at you, threatened you, or treated you like a disposable hostage. His actions were calculated, almost protective, even if you didn’t understand why.

But that didn’t make him any less dangerous.

The clown’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “So where are we headed, anyway? Safehouse number two?”

“No,” the wolf said. “Too obvious. We’re heading to the fallback location.”

The clown groaned. “Great. Another night in the middle of nowhere.”

You didn’t dare ask what the fallback location was.

Instead, you kept quiet, your heart pounding as the car sped further and further away from anything familiar.

The engine roared as the wolf pressed the pedal harder, the car speeding down the dark, desolate roads. You gripped the edge of the seat with your cuffed hands, your body stiff as you stared out the windshield, too terrified to look anywhere else.

Behind you, the clown rummaged through the two duffel bags, his gloved hands pulling out wads of cash. The bills rustled as he counted, his voice loud and obnoxious in the tense silence.

“Ten grand, twenty, thirty,” he muttered, stacking the money in neat piles on his lap. “Damn, this haul’s better than the last one. Maybe we should hit banks more often.”

The wolf didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his hands gripping the wheel with calm precision.

The clown snorted, shaking his head. “You’re no fun, you know that? All business, no celebration. You could at least crack a smile under that mask.”

“I’m driving,” the wolf said flatly. His voice was low, steady, and completely unbothered by the clown’s antics.

The clown scoffed, shoving another bundle of cash back into the bag. “Yeah, yeah, Mr. Professional. Always the same with you.”

You glanced at the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of the clown’s mask—a twisted, grinning face that sent a chill down your spine. He noticed you looking and leaned forward, his head tilting as if he were smirking beneath the mask.

“What about you, huh?” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “You enjoying the ride, sweetheart? This must be the most excitement you’ve had in your boring little life.”

You stiffened, refusing to answer.

The clown laughed, a sharp, grating sound. “Aw, come on, don’t be shy. You’re practically part of the crew now. Maybe we’ll even cut you a share.”

“That’s enough,” the wolf said sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

The clown raised his hands in mock surrender, leaning back in his seat. “Fine, fine. I’m just trying to lighten the mood. You’re such a buzzkill, Wolf.”

The wolf didn’t reply, his focus returning to the road.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as your mind raced. The clown’s teasing was unnerving, but the wolf’s silence was worse. He was an enigma—calm, controlled, and impossible to read.

The car swerved slightly as the wolf took a sharp turn, the tires screeching against the pavement.

The car sped down the empty streets, the hum of the engine filling the tense silence. After a while, the clown’s fidgeting grew louder, and you could sense his boredom brewing. He leaned forward again, resting his arms on the back of your seat.

“So,” he drawled, his tone laced with mock curiosity. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

You hesitated, glancing toward the wolf, who showed no sign of responding. His grip on the steering wheel remained steady, his eyes locked on the road ahead.

“I asked you a question,” the clown pressed, tilting his head. The subtle way his fingers drummed against the gun in his hand sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, deciding that staying silent wasn’t worth the risk. You answered him, your voice barely above a whisper.

He repeated your name, as if testing the way it sounded. “Nice. Bet you never thought you’d end up on an adventure like this, huh?”

You didn’t answer, staring straight ahead as your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your seatbelt.

The clown chuckled, the sound low and unnerving. “Not much of a talker, are you? That’s alright. Quiet’s good.” His tone shifted, becoming smoother, almost flirtatious. “But you don’t have to be shy with me. I’m not as scary as I look.”

Your stomach turned, and you instinctively leaned slightly closer to the door, putting as much distance as you could between you and his presence looming behind you.

Still, you managed to force out a stiff response, if only to keep him from getting more agitated. “I don’t really… feel like talking.”

The clown’s laugh was sharper this time. “Come on, don’t be like that. You’ve got a pretty face. Might as well use that pretty voice to keep me entertained.”

Your body tensed, the flirty edge in his tone setting your nerves on fire. Before you could react—or even glance at the wolf for help—the car lurched to an abrupt stop, the tires screeching loudly against the pavement.

The sudden motion threw you forward in your seat, your seatbelt catching you just in time, but the clown wasn’t as lucky. He pitched forward, hitting his head hard with a muffled thud.

“Goddammit!” he cursed, rubbing his forehead through his mask as he sat back. “What the hell, Wolf?!”

“The light’s red,” he said coldly, nodding toward the traffic light ahead.

The clown let out a disbelieving laugh, waving his hand dismissively. “You’ve never stopped at a red light before. What’s the deal?”

The wolf’s grip on the wheel didn’t loosen, but his tone dropped lower, sharper. “I stopped.”

The clown muttered something under his breath, leaning back in his seat with a groan. “Fine, whatever. You’re the boss.”

You stole a glance at the wolf, your heart racing. His mask obscured his face, but his posture told you everything. His shoulders were rigid, his breathing controlled but heavy, and the way his hands clenched the steering wheel made it clear—he was furious.

But why? Was it because of the clown’s behavior toward you?

The light turned green, and the wolf started driving again, the car moving smoothly as if nothing had happened.

The clown stayed quiet for a moment before letting out a huff. “Man, you’re wound up tight tonight. Need to relax.”

The wolf didn’t reply, his focus entirely on the road.

You could feel the weight of exhaustion dragging at you, your body craving rest, but your mind refused to let go. The tension in the car was thick, and every muscle in your body screamed for a break. But you knew better than to trust sleep around these men. The fear of what might happen if you closed your eyes was far too strong.

The road beneath the tires seemed to stretch on forever, and you blinked hard, doing your best to keep your focus. Every time you thought you might drift off, a sharp turn or the sound of the clown laughing from behind you pulled you back into reality.

Finally, the car slowed to a stop, the engine purring to a halt in the quiet night. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the haze of exhaustion from your vision, but you were still too disoriented.

The clown’s voice broke through your foggy thoughts. “Alright, we’re here. Let’s go.”

The wolf opened his door without a word and stepped out, his heavy boots crunching against the pavement as the clown followed suit. Your door swung open, and before you could gather your bearings, the wolf’s cold hand gripped your arm, pulling you roughly out of the car.

You stumbled slightly, your legs unsteady from the long ride, but the wolf didn’t give you any room to regain your balance. “Move,” the wolf growled, and you had no choice but to follow, your body moving instinctively even as your mind screamed in protest.

The wolf continued leading you, his eyes sharp and watchful as he guided you toward a steel elevator.

You tried to keep your breathing steady, but the fear gnawed at you as the elevator doors closed with a dull thud, the sound of the mechanical gears grinding making you feel even more trapped.

The elevator descended with a slow, jarring motion, your stomach lurching as you were pulled deeper underground.

When the doors finally opened, you were greeted by a dimly lit basement. Concrete floors stretched out before you, and the air felt musty and stale, like it hadn’t been disturbed in ages.

The clown’s voice echoed in the silence as he dropped the bags of money on a long wooden table. “First group here, huh?” He grinned, turning toward the wolf. “We need a bigger place if we’re going to keep up with the haul.”

The wolf didn’t answer him. His gaze never left you, and he moved toward a small door at the far end of the room.

“You’re staying here,” he said, his voice firm and low.

You didn’t have time to protest before he unlocked the door and shoved you inside. The room was sparse—bare concrete walls, a single bed in the corner, and a small desk against the wall. There was a single light bulb hanging overhead, casting an eerie glow over the room.

Before you could fully register what was happening, the wolf had locked the door behind you, his footsteps echoing as he walked away.

You stood frozen for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest.

You were alone.

Alone in a cold, unfamiliar room, trapped with no clear way out.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly in that cold, empty room. Hours passed—or maybe it was just minutes, you couldn’t be sure. You paced the small space, trying to think of some way out, but all your thoughts kept circling back to the same grim reality.

But just as the weight of your fear felt unbearable, the door to your cell creaked open. You didn’t move at first, too exhausted and emotionally drained to react. But then you saw him—the wolf.

He stood in the doorway, his presence towering and suffocating, his eyes dark and unreadable beneath his mask.

“Come on,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

You didn’t hesitate, feeling an instinctive pull to move despite the part of you that screamed to resist. There was nothing to gain from defiance—not here, not with him.

His gloved hand grabbed your arm firmly, pulling you out of the room with a force that left you no room to protest. As you were led down the dimly lit hallway, you passed the other robbers. They didn’t speak, their gaze on you. The clown sat lazily at the table, fiddling with a lighter, his gaze flicking up for a brief moment, but he didn’t say anything.

The wolf didn’t stop, dragging you forward with an unyielding grip. He grabbed a bag from the table without a word, his focus fixed ahead.

You were taken back to the elevator, its cold metal doors sliding open with a hiss. The same grinding sound as before filled the air as the elevator took you upward, the quiet hum of its mechanics deafening in the otherwise still atmosphere.

When the doors opened again, you were faced with the world outside, the harsh light of the morning sun streaming in. The wolf shoved you toward a sleek red car waiting at the curb, its engine idling, ready to take you away.

The sun had begun to rise, casting long shadows on the pavement, signaling the end of the night. The city was waking up, but you felt like you were in another world entirely. The red car’s door swung open, and the wolf pushed you into the passenger seat with a firm hand. He climbed into the driver’s side without a word, his movements swift and deliberate.

The car roared to life, pulling away from the curb as the wheels crunched over the gravel.

The wolf’s gaze flickered briefly toward you, but he didn’t say anything. He just drove, his hands steady on the wheel as the car hummed down the road.

The tension in your shoulders, the constant dread you’d been carrying, began to ease—ever so slightly. Your eyelids fluttered, heavy from the exhaustion you’d been pushing through, the lack of sleep catching up to you. You tried to stay alert, but it was harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

And before you realized it, your head dipped forward, your body relaxing into the seat. Your breathing slowed, soft and steady, as you drifted into sleep.

The wolf’s eyes flickered over to you, his gaze briefly softening as he saw your head resting against the window. The corner of his lips twitched into something resembling a smile, though it was hidden behind his mask. There was a deep sense of satisfaction that washed over him.

--

You slowly opened your eyes, the soft light from the window spilling across the plush linens. The warmth of the bed made you feel disoriented, almost too comfortable, and the moment you became fully aware of your surroundings, a cold wave of shock hit you.

You were in a luxurious hotel suite, the kind you’d only seen in movies or heard about from those who had money to spend. The room was large, with expensive-looking furniture scattered about, dark wood and gold accents giving it a rich, elegant feel. The bed you had woken up in was massive, the sheets pristine white and slightly crumpled.

You sighed, the weight of the confusion and fear coming back. Your body was sore, and you could still feel the faint remnants of exhaustion in your limbs. But somehow, it felt wrong to stay here. You didn’t know where here was, but it certainly didn’t feel like a place you should be.

With a deep breath, you slowly sat up, your feet touching the cold floor. After a moment’s pause, you decided you couldn’t just sit here, unsure of what was going on.

The hallway outside the room was silent, save for the muffled sound of distant chatter. You stepped out and walked toward the elevator, your mind racing with questions. You reached the lobby, the plush carpet soft underfoot, and approached the receptionist desk, where a young woman sat typing on her computer.

“Excuse me,” you said quietly, your voice still raw from the sleep. The receptionist looked up, offering a warm smile. “Can I help you?”

You hesitated for a moment, still trying to gather your thoughts. “I… I woke up here, and I’m not sure how I got here. Can you tell me what happened?”

The receptionist took a moment to study you, her gaze flicking to the key card in your hand. “Oh, I see. You were brought in this morning. A man dropped you off though he didn’t stay long. Just… dropped you off and left.”

You frowned, the confusion deepening. "Did you see his face?"

She shook her head, her expression apologetic. "No, he was wearing a hood. I couldn’t see anything and he didn’t say much.”

You sighed out a breath, feeling a strange mix of relief and frustration. Relief, because at least you weren’t in immediate danger, and frustration because you still had no answers.

“Thank you,” you said, forcing a smile as you handed back the key card.

The receptionist nodded sympathetically as you turned and walked out.

--

The days that followed felt like a blur of events, each one blending into the next. The shock of the robbery and the kidnapping seemed to hang over you like a cloud, the adrenaline of the event never fully disappearing.

The police had been persistent, asking you question after question, trying to get every detail you could remember. You recounted everything—what you saw, what you heard, how the robbers acted, how you ended up in the hotel.

But what unsettled you the most was the fact that the place they had taken you to—the hidden basement, the garage, everything—was now completely empty. The police had searched the location, but there was nothing. No traces and no leftover evidence. It was as if the robbers had vanished into thin air.

And when they tried to trace the hotel, it was the same story. The receptionist’s memory was all they had, and that wasn’t much to go on. A hooded man had dropped you off. No name. No face. Nothing.

The police had no leads, and you were left with nothing but your own confusion and growing fear.

You tried to keep going. You tried to move on, to get back to some semblance of normalcy, but the feeling that had surged through you—danger, uncertainty, that rush of adrenaline—was a hard thing to shake.

You’d always thought you wanted something more, something thrilling. But now that you had experienced it, now that you had tasted that kind of danger, it felt like an itch you couldn’t scratch. It wasn’t something you could walk away from. It was always there.

You went back to your work, your life, doing your best to keep your routine in place. But nothing felt quite the same. It was like you were constantly looking over your shoulder, waiting for something to happen, waiting for those men to reappear.

Some nights, the fear crept back in, and you’d find yourself unable to sleep, lying awake in bed, the images of the action flashing through your mind. And then there were those moments, when the rush, the thrill, would start to creep in too. You’d catch yourself staring out a window, lost in thought, wondering what it would be like to see one of them again.

It was dangerous, you knew. But it felt impossible to escape that feeling. Something about it was… addictive.

--

The morning sunlight filtered through your window, casting a warm glow over your apartment, but as you opened the door, the peaceful atmosphere quickly shifted. There, lying on the floor just outside your door, was a bag—an expensive-looking, high-end designer bag, its sleek material catching the light.

You tilted your head in confusion, wondering who could have left it there. Your heart skipped a beat as you crouched down and zipped it open. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw what was inside.

A piece of paper was folded neatly, the words scrawled in neat, precise handwriting: "Wear it for me."

The signature beneath the words read: Wolf.

A chill ran through you, but the bag was filled with more than just a note. Inside, you found an assortment of beautifully crafted jewelry—shiny necklaces, delicate bracelets, and a pair of earrings that sparkled like diamonds. There were also clothes—luxurious fabric, intricate stitching, and garments that screamed wealth.

You felt your stomach tighten, torn between the unease that bubbled up within you and the undeniable curiosity that had you looking over your shoulder. But there was no one in sight. No one watching.

You picked up the bag, feeling the weight of it in your hands. You glanced around the hallway, half-expecting someone to jump out at you. But nothing. No movement, nothing.

Stepping back into your apartment, you closed the door behind you, your mind racing. The room felt stuffy all of a sudden, and your hands trembled slightly as you quickly checked the news, hoping to find something—anything—that could explain this. But there was nothing. No new robberies. No incidents. The police reports hadn’t changed.

You looked at the open bag sitting on the floor in front of you. The glint of the jewelry, sparkling almost like it was teasing you. Each piece seemed to tempt you, daring you to pick it up, to try it on.

Your fingers hovered over the contents of the bag before you quickly pulled them back, shaking your head. This is ridiculous, you told yourself. It wasn’t safe, wasn’t normal. You didn’t know the Wolf’s intentions—what this gesture even meant.

You clenched your fists, forcing yourself to pull back. "No," you muttered under your breath. Whatever game the Wolf was playing, you weren’t going to be part of it.

Leaving the bag on the floor where it was, you grabbed your coat, slipped on your shoes, and headed for the door. You needed to get out, clear your head, put some distance between you and whatever this was.

--

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, as you decided to take a stroll, hoping the fresh air would clear your mind.

Walking, your steps slowed in front of a jewelry store. The display window sparkled under the bright lights, showcasing an array of necklaces, rings, and bracelets. The pieces were beautiful, elegant, and impossibly expensive.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the faint sound of footsteps behind you until a low, familiar voice broke through the quiet.

“Do you like what you’re seeing?”

You froze for a moment before turning your head slightly, glancing over your shoulder. Your breath caught when you saw him—the handsome man you had crashed into days ago.

For a moment, your mind raced, trying to make sense of his sudden appearance. He was dressed casually, hands tucked into his pockets, an air of confidence around him.

“Yeah,” you said softly, turning back to the window. “They’re beautiful.”

“They’d suit you,” he replied, his tone smooth, yet sincere.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks at his words, your heart giving a traitorous flutter. “Thanks,” you mumbled, looking away from the display and at the ground, trying to compose yourself.

There was a pause before he spoke again, his voice calm but laced with something deeper, something unreadable. “Jewelry like that... it’s meant to make a statement. To say something about the person wearing it.”

You glanced up at him, his gaze fixed on the display for a moment before shifting to meet yours. His eyes held yours, and for a second, you could feel the intensity behind them.

“Maybe,” you said cautiously, your voice barely above a whisper.

A small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips, as though he understood something you didn’t. “You don’t think it’s for you?”

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. “I’m not sure it fits my life right now,” you admitted, thinking about the bag sitting untouched back in your apartment.

His smile grew, but it wasn’t mocking—it was... intrigued. “Maybe you just haven’t stepped into the right life yet.”

Before you could respond, he straightened, taking a step back.

“Think about it,” he said simply, giving you a slight nod before turning and disappearing into the flow of pedestrians on the sidewalk.

You stood there, rooted in place, staring after him as your heart thudded in your chest.

Who was he?

After returning home, you let out a heavy sigh as your eyes landed on the bag still sitting where you’d left it. You crouched down and peeked inside once again, taking in the glimmering jewelry and the luxurious clothes.

Scrunching your nose, you muttered to yourself, What the hell am I supposed to do with this?

You closed the bag with a resigned huff and headed to the bathroom, stripping off your clothes and stepping into the hot shower. You let your mind wander for a moment, trying to make sense of everything.

After drying off and wrapping yourself in a towel, you walked back into your room. Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, drawing your attention. Frowning, you picked it up and unlocked the screen to see a text from an unknown number.

The message made your stomach flip:

"You didn’t like the gift I left this morning?"

Your breath caught. For a moment, you just stared at the screen, your heart racing. You typed a quick reply:

"What do you mean?"

It didn’t take long for the reply to come.

"I didn’t see you wearing the jewels."

You froze, gripping the phone tighter in your hand. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who it was. Your suspicion solidified in your mind as you began typing furiously:

"Wolf?"

There was no denial.

"Out of all the names you could’ve chosen, that’s the one you stick with? I’m flattered."

You huffed in frustration, pacing your room as you typed back.

"Why are you watching me? And why would you even give me this stuff?"

A moment passed before his next reply.

"I bought it out of the goodness of my heart, just for you. Thought you’d appreciate the gesture."

You rolled your eyes, fingers flying over the keyboard.

"With stolen money."

This time, his response took a little longer, but when it came, it sent a chill down your spine.

"You didn’t seem to complain when I kept you safe, sweetheart. Or when I made sure you slept comfortably that night."

You swallowed hard, glaring at the screen as your mind flashed back to that night in the hotel. Despite your frustration, you couldn’t deny the truth in his words. You were alive, and he had been the one to ensure it.

Still, you typed back stubbornly:

"That doesn’t mean I owe you anything."

His reply came quickly, as if he had been waiting for you to say it.

"Oh, sweetheart, this isn’t about owing me. I just wanna spoil you."

You stared at the message, torn between anger, confusion, and an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Your hands trembled slightly as you locked your phone and tossed it onto the bed.

And before you could stop yourself, you grabbed the bag, placing it on the bed. Slowly, you unzipped it and pulled out the clothes first—a sleek designer outfit that felt as expensive as it looked. Next, you took out the jewelry, laying it out piece by piece. Rings, bracelets, earrings, and necklaces all glittered under the dim light of your room.

You swallowed hard as you picked up the outfit and the jewelry, staring at them for a moment. What harm could it do to just try them on?

The thought tugged at your resolve, and before long, you found yourself slipping into the outfit and clasping the jewelry around your neck and wrists. You turned toward the mirror, almost not recognizing yourself.

The person staring back at you looked expensive, untouchable, like someone who had walked out of a magazine.

You tilted your head, running your fingers through your hair. Without thinking, you grabbed your phone, adjusted your pose, and snapped a picture.

Your thumb hovered over the photo for a moment. Should I? The thought sent a thrill of uncertainty through you, but before you could overanalyze, you sent it.

The instant you hit send, regret settled in your stomach like a rock. You thought about deleting it or throwing your phone across the room, but the damage was done.

Not even a minute passed before he replied.

"Knew you’d look good in it."

Your cheeks burned as you stared at the screen. Before you could respond, another message came through.

"You wear it better than I imagined. Stunning."

The compliment sent your heart racing. You quickly typed a response:

"You’re a psycho, you know that?"

This time, the reply was almost instant.

"Maybe. But I know a good investment when I see one."

You frowned, typing quickly.

"I’m not an investment."

His response came slower this time, but it hit harder than you expected.

"You are to me. Whether you see it or not."

Your stomach churned, and before you could come up with a reply, another message came through.

"Enjoy the gifts, sweetheart. There’s more to come."

You tossed your phone onto the bed, staring at yourself in the mirror again. You felt beautiful, sure, but at what cost?

The days that followed after felt surreal, like stepping into a life that wasn’t your own. Every morning, you would find another bag or box outside your door. Each time, the gifts inside grew more extravagant—more jewelry, designer clothes, expensive shoes, even a high-end purse that you’d only ever dreamed of owning.

The Wolf never let you ignore his generosity. His messages always followed soon after, asking if you liked what he’d left and reminding you to send proof that you were wearing them.

At first, you resisted, replying with excuses about being too busy or not wanting to wear such obvious luxury items. But he was persistent, and there was always an underlying threat hidden behind his charming words. Not explicit, but enough to remind you that he was watching.

"Don’t keep me waiting, sweetheart." "I just want to see you shine." "Humor me, or should I drop by and see for myself?"

So, reluctantly, you complied. You’d slip into the outfits, put on the jewelry, and snap a picture. At first, you tried to make it obvious that you weren’t enjoying it—standing stiffly, giving half-hearted smiles. But over time, as you caught glimpses of yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t deny that the attention made you feel… special.

And when you were out, you started wearing some of the items—not all at once, but enough to feel their weight on you. The Wolf noticed immediately, always commenting when he saw you through his texts.

"Everyone’s staring at you, aren’t they? They should. You’re breathtaking." "You belong in things like this, not the life you’re trying to hold onto."

But the feeling didn’t come without guilt. Each time you put on something he sent, you couldn’t shake the thought of how he got the money to pay for it. You knew it was stolen, yet here you were, parading around in the spoils of his crimes.

As you sat on a bench in the park that evening, sipping a coffee and scrolling through your phone, a message from him lit up your screen:

"You’re starting to enjoy it, aren’t you?"

Your fingers flew across the screen as you typed out a response.

"Enjoy it? What, being spoiled by stolen money and manipulated into wearing it? No thanks."

The reply came almost instantly, like he’d been waiting for you to bite.

"Sweetheart, if you really hated it, you wouldn’t be wearing my gifts right now. Don’t lie to me."

You clenched your jaw, glaring at the screen. You could practically hear the smug tone in his voice.

"I wear them because you keep pushing, not because I like them."

It was a weak excuse, and you knew it. So did he.

"Sure you don’t," he replied, adding a winking emoji. "That’s why you’ve been strutting around town looking like you own the place. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the extra confidence."

You rolled your eyes, fingers moving quickly.

"Confidence? More like stress from worrying you’re watching me all the time. Maybe I should toss this stuff out and be done with it."

There was a pause this time, long enough that you thought you might’ve finally gotten under his skin. Then your phone buzzed again.

"You wouldn’t dare. And even if you tried, I’d just buy you more. You deserve to look like the Queen you are."

Your cheeks burned, and you hated the way your heart skipped at his words. "Stop calling me things like that."

"Why? You don’t like being called my Queen? Or would you prefer ‘baby’? ‘sweetheart? ‘angel’?"

You huffed aloud, typing furiously.

"I’d prefer if you left me alone, actually."

"Hmm, yeah, that’s not happening."

You groaned in frustration, leaning back against the bench as his next message appeared.

"C’mon, don’t be mad, sweetheart. You’re cute when you’re flustered."

"You’re insufferable."

"And yet, you keep replying. Admit it—you like our little chats."

You hesitated, glaring at the screen. Part of you wanted to ignore him, to block his number and try to move on with your life. But another part—the one that felt a flicker of excitement each time his name popped up—kept you typing.

"I reply because you won’t leave me alone," you shot back.

"Mmhmm, keep telling yourself that. You’ve got my number saved by now, don’t you?"

Your stomach flipped, and your face burned. You hadn’t saved his number, but the thought that he’d guessed something so ridiculous still made you squirm.

"In your dreams," you typed.

"Oh, sweetheart, you don’t want to know what I dream about."

Your jaw dropped, heat rushing to your cheeks as you stared at the text before locking your phone, you shoved it into your bag with an annoyed groan. He was impossible, and he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

--

The bell above the jewelry store door jingled softly as you stepped inside, greeted by the glimmer of diamonds and gold under bright display lights. The store wasn’t too crowded—just a few customers browsing quietly, the sound of soft music humming in the background.

You wandered toward the ring section, humming to yourself as you peered through the glass. Your fingers brushed over the edge of the counter as you admired the delicate pieces—sleek bands, intricate designs, and stones that sparkled.

One caught your eye: a simple silver ring with a small diamond. The kind of thing you’d never buy for yourself, but it didn’t stop you from slipping it onto your finger to admire it.

The moment felt normal.

But that didn`t seem to last.

The sound of a door slamming open behind you shattered the calm. A sharp, angry voice boomed through the store, cutting through the soft music.

"Everyone on the ground! Now!"

Your stomach twisted as you froze in place, the ring still halfway on your finger. Panic set in as the store erupted into chaos—gasps, screams, and the clatter of someone dropping their bag as people scrambled to the floor.

Your head turned slowly, heart hammering in your chest.

And there they were.

The same robbers from the bank. The masks. The guns. It was like a nightmare replaying itself, except this time you weren’t just a bystander.

Your gaze locked onto him.

The Wolf.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Behind the mask, his head tilted slightly, as if he were sizing you up, and even without seeing his face, you knew he recognized you.

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling as you raised them slowly, your mind screaming at you to do something, anything. But he wasn’t moving, and the longer he stared, the more you began to feel like his prey.

Then, finally, he spoke. His voice was low, distorted slightly by the mask but unmistakably calm.

"You really do have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, don’t you?"

The familiarity in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. You took a shaky step back, but his gun followed the movement.

“Stay right there,” he ordered, and his voice wasn’t as calm this time. It was sharp and commanding.

You dropped back to the floor, your knees hitting the cold tiles as the others watched silently.

"Good girl," he muttered, almost to himself, and though the words weren’t loud, they hit you like a brick.

This wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be.

The Clown let out a loud, exaggerated laugh as his gaze landed on you, his gun resting on his shoulder. "Well, well, look who it is! Isn’t this just too good to be true?" he teased, gesturing wildly toward you with his free hand.

You stiffened, keeping your eyes down as the other robbers turned their attention to you, their movements briefly faltering.

"Seriously?" the Clown continued, leaning against one of the display cases. "Out of all the jewelry stores in the city, you walk into this one? What are the odds?"

"Focus," the Wolf snapped, his voice sharp as he shoved a handful of necklaces into a bag. But his tone wasn’t as steady as it usually was—there was something strained about it.

A skeleton, standing by the door, glanced between you and the Clown. "What, you two know her?"

The Clown chuckled, his laughter high-pitched and mocking. "Oh, we know her, all right. She’s like our little good-luck charm. Wherever she goes, we hit the jackpot!"

You felt your stomach twist, the heat of their stares making your skin crawl. You tried to stay still, tried not to draw any more attention to yourself, but the Clown’s taunting made that impossible.

"You’ve got to admit," the Clown continued, his tone dripping with amusement as he gestured to the Wolf, "this is kind of funny."

The Wolf didn’t answer, his focus locked on the bags of jewelry as if ignoring the conversation altogether.

Then, before anyone could say another word, a loud pop shattered the air.

The glass window near the front of the store exploded inward, and a thick cloud of gas began pouring in. The cops had arrived.

Chaos erupted instantly.

"Gas!" the Demon shouted, covering his face with one arm.

The Clown cursed, dropping the rings he was counting and grabbing his gun. "We’ve got company!"

The gas spread quickly, making your eyes water and your throat burn. You coughed, trying to crawl toward the counter for some kind of cover, but you didn’t make it far.

Rough hands grabbed you by the arm, yanking you upright. You barely had time to scream before the Demon’s arm was around your neck, dragging you backward toward the exit.

"Shield!" he barked, his voice muffled.

"No!" you gasped, struggling against his grip, but he only tightened his hold, keeping your body in front of his as the store filled with smoke.

The Wolf turned sharply, his eyes—or rather, his mask—locking onto you. "Demon, leave her!"

"No time for this!" the Demon snapped back, holding you tighter as you kicked against him. "You want us to get out or not?"

The Clown was already firing shots through the gas, laughing like a maniac as the police closed in.

Your heart raced as you were dragged toward the back, your screams barely audible over the chaos. The Wolf hesitated for a moment, his gun raised, before letting out a growl of frustration and motioning for the others to move.

"Go! Go!" he barked, his voice laced with anger.

You were shoved through the back door and into an alley, the cold air hitting your face as the sounds of gunfire echoed behind you. The Demon didn’t loosen his grip, dragging you toward a waiting van parked at the end of the alley.

"Let me go!" you screamed, your voice hoarse, but your words fell on deaf ears.

The Clown opened the back doors of the van, waving the others inside. "C’mon, c’mon! Time to disappear again!"

The Demon shoved you forward, and you stumbled into the van, your wrists hitting the cold metal floor. The Clown climbed in behind you, pulling the doors shut as the Wolf took the driver’s seat.

The van roared to life, screeching away from the alley as the cops’ shouts faded into the distance.

You curled yourself further into the corner, trying to make yourself small, your heart pounding so hard it hurt. And then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed something—or rather, someone.

Another woman.

She was sitting on the opposite side of the van, her face pale, her hair disheveled, and her body trembling. You recognized her from the store. She’d been near the necklace displays, standing by herself. You’d barely noticed her in the chaos, but now it was clear—she’d been taken, too.

Her eyes met yours, wide and terrified, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

The Clown, seated on one of the metal benches along the wall, noticed the direction of your gaze and snickered. "Ah, don’t worry," he said, waving his hand lazily. "She’s just along for the ride, like you."

"Why?" you croaked, your voice barely above a whisper.

The Clown tilted his head as if you’d just asked the stupidest question in the world. "Because she was there, obviously."

The woman flinched at his casual tone, her hands clutching the fabric of her skirt as she looked between you and the Clown.

"Let us go," you said, the words stumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. Your voice shook, but you forced yourself to continue. "You don’t need us. We—we’re just witnesses. You got what you wanted—"

"Shut it," the Demon snapped, cutting you off. He was leaning against the side of the van, his arms crossed, the mask over his face making him look even more menacing. "We’re not letting anyone go until we’re in the clear."

You clenched your fists, anger flickering beneath the fear. "This is insane—"

"Insane?" The Clown laughed, leaning forward slightly. "Sweetheart, you don’t even know the half of it."

The Wolf’s voice cut through the tension from the driver’s seat, calm but firm. "Enough."

The Clown rolled his eyes but leaned back, stretching his arms out like he didn’t have a care in the world.

The van hit a bump, and you winced, grabbing the wall to steady yourself. The woman across from you whimpered softly, her eyes darting toward the doors as if she were contemplating throwing herself out.

"Don’t even think about it," the Demon muttered, noticing her gaze.

The van fell into an uneasy silence, the only sounds the hum of the engine and the occasional squeal of the tires as the Wolf took another sharp turn.

You looked at the woman again, and this time you spoke softly, trying to keep your voice steady. "Are you okay?"

She blinked at you, her lips trembling. "I—I don’t know," she whispered.

You nodded, your throat tightening. You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? Both of you were trapped, at the mercy of masked criminals who seemed to thrive on chaos.

The Clown glanced between you and the woman, a grin audible in his voice even if you couldn’t see his face. "Don’t worry, ladies. We’re taking real good care of you."

You glared at him, your fear momentarily eclipsed by anger. "Care? You call this care?"

The Clown laughed again, but the Wolf interrupted sharply.

"Clown, I said enough."

The Clown huffed, leaning back in his seat. "Fine, fine. Killjoy."

As the van turned into what felt like another narrow alley, you clenched your fists tighter, your nails digging into your palms. The woman across from you mirrored your fear, her wide eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Shouts and sirens blared behind you, the chaos reaching a deafening crescendo.

“They’re right on us!” the Clown shouted, gripping the edge of his seat as he leaned toward the back doors, peering through the small window. “There’s three cars chasing—no, four!”

The Demon growled, raising his gun to return fire out the back. Bullets shattered the van’s rear window, glass flying everywhere. You ducked instinctively, covering your head, your ears ringing from the deafening blasts.

The woman next to you screamed, clutching the bench for dear life, her face pale as a ghost.

"Keep them off us!" the Wolf barked from the driver’s seat, his voice sharp and unyielding as he yanked the van into a hard drift around a corner. The tires screeched again, the force slamming you into the wall of the van.

The Skeleton, who’d been silent the entire ride, crouched near the back doors with a rifle in hand. "I’ve got it!" he shouted, leaning out of the broken window to aim at the pursuing cop cars. He fired several rounds, the recoil kicking against his shoulder.

A loud bang followed as one of the police cars spun out, crashing into a parked vehicle.

“That’s one down!” the Skeleton yelled, a hint of triumph in his voice.

But his victory was short-lived.

Another pop of gunfire came from behind, and before you could process what had happened, the Skeleton froze, his body jerking forward violently. Blood sprayed against the inside of the van as he dropped his rifle, clutching his chest.

“No!” the Clown shouted, scrambling toward him.

The Skeleton gasped for air, his body trembling as he collapsed onto the floor of the van.

"Dammit!" the Demon hissed, grabbing the fallen rifle and firing blindly out the back. "They got him!"

You couldn’t take your eyes off the Skeleton’s body. This wasn’t just some action movie or heist drama. Someone had just died right in front of you.

The Clown muttered a string of curses, shaking Skeleton’s shoulder as if trying to wake him up. "Come on, man. Not now. Not like this."

But it was no use. He was gone.

The woman beside you sobbed quietly, her face buried in her hands. You wanted to comfort her, to say something, but no words came.

The Wolf’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "Demon, take the rifle and keep them back. Clown, sit down. He’s gone. We can’t stop now."

The Clown hesitated, his body trembling with barely contained anger, but he finally obeyed, slamming his fist against the metal wall before sitting back.

The Demon took Skeleton’s place at the broken window, firing round after round at the remaining cop cars.

The van swerved again, throwing you against the side. Your head slammed into the metal with a dull thud, and your vision blurred for a moment.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the gunfire stopped altogether. The van jolted to a halt in what seemed like another underground garage, and for a moment, everything was silent except for the sound of your own ragged breathing.

The Wolf killed the engine, his hands still gripping the wheel tightly.

The Clown was the first to speak, his voice hollow. “We lost him.”

No one responded.

What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

The Demon barked orders as they moved quickly, unloading bags of cash and weapons from the van and transferring them to a sleek black SUV parked nearby. Every move they made was quick and calculated, their boots echoing loudly in the underground garage.

You and the woman stood there, side by side, both of you trembling for different reasons. Her fear was evident in the way she kept shaking, her eyes darting everywhere like she was looking for a way out. You, on the other hand, were frozen in silent fury, your body stiff as you glared daggers at the Clown, who stood a few feet away, his gun trained lazily in your direction.

“Man, this was a mess,” the Clown said casually, his tone far too relaxed given the situation. He tilted his head toward you, his painted mask cocked like he was grinning beneath it. "But hey, look on the bright side—at least you got to hang out with us again. Bet you missed us, huh?"

You didn’t respond, your glare sharp enough to cut glass.

He laughed, as if your silence only amused him. "Still giving me the silent treatment? You know, you’re gonna hurt my feelings if you keep this up."

Beside you, the woman whimpered softly, clearly unable to handle the Clown’s twisted sense of humor. He turned his attention to her next, his voice mockingly sweet.

“Aw, don’t cry, lady. We’re not all bad. Well...” He chuckled. “Most of us aren’t great, but at least I’m entertaining, right?”

The woman shook her head, her lips quivering as tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Leave her alone,” you snapped, unable to stay quiet any longer.

The Clown turned back to you, tilting his head again. “There she is! Knew you couldn’t keep quiet forever.”

“Shut up,” you bit out, your voice low and venomous.

He let out a mock gasp, pressing a hand to his chest. "So cold! You really do know how to break a guy’s heart."

The Demon’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Clown, enough.”

The Clown shrugged, stepping back slightly but still keeping the gun pointed at you and the woman. "Fine, fine. No fun allowed."

After a few more tense minutes, the Demon slammed the trunk of the SUV shut, signaling that they were done loading.

The Wolf glanced over at you as he walked toward the driver’s side door. His gaze lingered for a moment, and though his mask obscured his expression, there was something unreadable in his posture.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

The Clown smirked, giving you a two-fingered salute before backing toward the SUV. “Well, ladies, it’s been real. Don’t miss us too much, okay?”

The woman let out a quiet sob, and you clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you fought the urge to say something—anything—that might provoke them further.

The Clown climbed into the backseat, leaning out the window one last time as the SUV started up.

“Oh, and one more thing...” He leaned out of the window dramatically, throwing a mocking kiss in your direction. "Mwah!"

You glared at him, your jaw tightening, but you didn’t respond.

For a few moments, everything was silent except for the distant hum of the SUV’s engine fading into the distance.

The woman collapsed to her knees beside you, her body wracked with sobs. You stood there, your fists still clenched, your chest heaving as you tried to process what had just happened.

--

The flashing red and blue lights of the police cars reflected off the damp pavement as the cops swarmed the abandoned van where you and the woman had been left. You watched in silence as the officers questioned her, her voice trembling as she spilled everything she could recall about the robbery.

After hours of questioning and paperwork, they finally let you go. Exhausted, you dragged yourself home. The weight of the day pressed heavily on your shoulders, but even as you sank into your couch, staring blankly at the TV screen, the adrenaline from the encounter still buzzed faintly beneath your skin.

You tried distracting yourself with a movie, flipping through channels until you landed on something familiar.

Then, your phone buzzed.

The sound made you jump, when you reached for your phone and saw the notification, your breath caught in your throat.

It was him.

"Miss me yet?"

Your heart skipped a beat. You stared at the message, unsure how to respond—or if you even should. Your fingers hovered over the screen, torn between ignoring him and diving into a conversation you knew you shouldn’t be having.

Before you could think too hard, another message came through.

"You didn’t tell them about me, did you? Good."

You sat up straighter, your pulse quickening.

"How do you know I didn’t?"

The three little dots indicating he was typing appeared immediately.

"Let’s just say I have my ways."

You frowned, your fingers tightening around your phone.

"Why are you messaging me? What do you want?"

There was a pause before his next message.

"Thought I’d check in."

Your lips parted in disbelief. Was he serious?

"You can’t just ‘check in’ like this. You’re a criminal."

He answered right after.

"And yet, here you are, replying to me."

Curiosity finally got the better of you.

"I have a question."

The reply came faster than you expected.

"Ask away, doll."

"All the stuff you’ve given me… the jewelry, the clothes, everything. Did you really buy it? Or was it all stolen?"

You waited, biting your lip, half-expecting him to dodge the question. But then your phone buzzed again.

"Bought. Every single piece. You deserve the best, not leftovers from a heist."

His words made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t want to admit. But still, you weren’t convinced.

"I don’t trust you."

"I know. That’s fair. What would it take for you to trust me?"

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Part of you didn’t even want to respond, but the absurdity of it all made you type before you could think twice.

"A mirror picture."

You sent it jokingly.

"Like the ones I’ve been sending to you."

There was a long pause, and you were about to type again when your phone buzzed. A photo popped up in your chat, and you froze.

Wow...

He was sitting on the edge of a bed, facing a mirror. Black pants hugged his legs, and a simple white shirt clung to his broad shoulders. Silver jewelry adorned his wrists and fingers, glinting under the soft light of the room. A chunky chain rested around his neck.

But his face was hidden—his phone held up in front of it, the sleek black screen obscuring his features.

Your breath hitched as you stared at the image. It was strangely intimate, like you were seeing a side of him he didn’t show anyone else.

"Satisfied?"

You blinked, trying to collect yourself.

"That doesn’t prove anything. Your face is still hidden."

"I didn’t think you’d want to see me yet. You might get hooked."

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks burned as you typed back.

"You’re so full of yourself."

"And yet, you’re still talking to me."

He had a point, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

"Don’t you have something better to do than bother me?"

"Not really. You’re the most interesting thing in my life right now."

Your chest tightened at his words, and you quickly changed the subject.

"You didn’t answer my question, though. How do I know the jewels wasn’t stolen?"

"You don’t."

You frowned, unsure if that was meant to be reassuring or not.

"This doesn’t make me trust you."

"That’s fine. I have time to change your mind."

You sighed, leaning back against the couch as you stared at his picture again. There was something about him.. something.

The days after that conversation felt… different. You didn’t know why you kept responding, but something about his persistence kept pulling you in.

His messages started coming more frequently, each one bolder than the last.

"What are you wearing today?"

You rolled your eyes at that one but still replied.

"I’m wearing jeans and a hoodie."

"Disappointing. I was imagining something more exciting."

"Get your imagination in check."

And then there were the voice memos. The first one caught you completely off guard.

His voice was deep, smooth, with an almost teasing edge to it.

"You’re always so defensive, doll. Relax a little. I’m not trying to hurt you."

The moment you heard it, your cheeks burned. You told yourself it was just the surprise of hearing him—not because his voice sent a shiver down your spine. Absolutely not.

You didn’t reply to that one immediately, hoping he’d leave it at that. But then another one came the next day.

"You didn’t respond to me yesterday. Are you mad, or did I just leave you speechless? Either way, I don’t mind."

Your fingers hovered over your phone, debating whether to reply. You told yourself to ignore it. But curiosity got the better of you again.

"Speechless? Not likely. I just have better things to do."

His reply came quickly, this time another voice memo.

"Better things? Like what? Sitting at home in the hoodie and jeans you wouldn’t let me imagine?"

You groaned but couldn’t stop yourself from laughing under your breath. He was relentless.

And it only got worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it.

One night, as you were scrolling on your phone, a longer voice memo came through. You hesitated before pressing play.

"You know," he began, his tone softer but still carrying that teasing lilt, "you don’t have to keep playing hard to get. I like this game, sure, but I’m patient. I’ve got all the time in the world to win you over."

Your stomach flipped, and you hated how much his words affected you.

"Win me over? You’re delusional."

He sent a message almost immediately.

"Maybe. But I think you’re starting to like it. Admit it, doll."

You didn’t admit anything, of course. But the truth was, you hadn’t stopped thinking about him—not his words, not his voice, not the way he made you feel.

And that terrified you. Because even though you tried to ignore it, you were starting to enjoy the attention. Starting to crave it, even.

But how could you let yourself fall for someone like him? Someone dangerous, mysterious, and so clearly off-limits?

You didn’t know. But what scared you most was that part of you didn’t care anymore.

--

You were crouched in the back of the store, stocking shelves. It had been a quiet day, and you were lost in your routine, mindlessly organizing items when you heard it—a voice that froze you in place.

"You’re really good at this, you know. Stocking shelves. Very meticulous."

Your breath caught in your throat. That voice. That smooth, teasing voice you’d come to recognize through late-night messages and voice memos.

You turned slowly, heart hammering, and there he was. The guy you had crashed into on the street. The same guy who had flustered you outside the jewelry store. But now, seeing him up close, hearing his voice—his voice—everything came crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

It was the Wolf.

Your lips parted, your instinct to scream taking over, but before you could make a sound, his hand clamped over your mouth. His other arm snaked around your waist, pulling you in close.

"Shh, doll," he whispered, his voice low and calm, but there was a hint of steel beneath it. "Let’s not make a scene."

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could feel it against his chest. You struggled against his hold, your mind racing with panic, anger, and disbelief.

"I knew I’d run into you eventually," he continued, his voice soft but dripping with that familiar smugness. "Though I didn’t expect it to be while you were busy stacking shelves."

You glared at him, your muffled protests pushing against his palm.

"If I let go, are you going to scream?" he asked, tilting his head as if he were genuinely curious.

You nodded furiously, and he chuckled.

"Honest. I like that about you."

You squirmed harder, and finally, he sighed, leaning in closer. His lips were almost brushing your ear now, and his voice dropped to a whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

"Scream if you want, doll. But just know, if you do, I’ll have to leave. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?"

The way he said it wasn’t a threat—it was a promise, one that left you frozen in place. Slowly, he removed his hand from your mouth, watching you intently as if daring you to make a move.

You didn’t scream. You couldn’t.

"That’s my girl," he said with a smirk, his arm still loosely wrapped around your waist.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you hissed, your voice low but trembling.

"Shopping," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And maybe visiting you. Call it multitasking."

You pushed against his chest, breaking free of his hold, and he let you go, though his smirk didn’t falter.

"You’re insane," you spat, taking a step back, your voice rising slightly.

"And yet, here we are," he said, leaning casually against the shelf as if this was all perfectly normal.

You wanted to yell, to shove him out of the store, but all you could do was stare, your mind still reeling. The man who had been sending you messages, giving you gifts, teasing you relentlessly—he wasn’t some untouchable figure. He was here. Right in front of you.

And he was everything you feared he would be. Charming. Dangerous. And completely unapologetic.

You turned away from him, your hands trembling as you grabbed the next item to stock. You focused on the task, willing your racing heart to calm down. Maybe if you ignored him, he’d get bored and leave.

"You’re just going to pretend I’m not here?" His voice was laced with amusement. You didn’t need to turn around to know he was still watching you, his gaze burning into the back of your head. "I didn’t take you for the silent treatment type, doll."

You clenched your jaw, refusing to rise to his bait.

He chuckled softly. "Come on. I get points for effort, don’t I? I’ve been nothing but generous. All those gifts, all those messages... and this is how you treat me?"

You slammed a box of items onto the shelf a little too hard, the sound echoing through the aisle.

"Careful," he said, his tone mocking concern. "You’re going to break something. And then what? Do I have to buy the whole shelf to make it up to you?"

You finally spun around, glaring at him. "What do you want?"

He grinned, clearly enjoying how easily you snapped. "What do I want? That’s a loaded question." He stepped closer, his movements unhurried and deliberate. "But right now? I just want you."

You stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious—or just messing with you. The way he leaned casually against the shelf, arms crossed, he looked completely at ease, like this was just another day for him.

"You’re insane," you muttered, turning back to your work.

"You’ve said that already," he teased. "It’s starting to sound like a compliment."

You didn’t respond, focusing on stacking the last of the items in the box. He stayed quiet for a moment, and you thought—hoped—he might finally leave.

But of course, he didn’t.

"You know," he started again, "I’ve been picturing this for a while. You, working. Me watching you." His voice dropped slightly, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. "Roles reversed for once."

You threw him a sharp glare over your shoulder. "Do you ever stop talking?"

He smirked. "Only when there’s a good reason to."

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the shelf, but you could feel the heat of his gaze following your every movement.

"You’re cute when you’re mad, by the way," he added. "But you probably already knew that."

You ignored him, determined not to let him get under your skin any more than he already had.

But as much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t help the way your heart skipped a beat every time he spoke.

You froze as his arm suddenly came up, caging you between the shelf and his body. His other hand rested casually on the edge of the shelf near your head, but there was nothing casual about the way he leaned in, his eyes locked onto yours.

"I’m talking to you, doll," he said, his voice low and teasing. "I don’t like being ignored."

You swallowed hard, glancing around the store, your mind racing. There was no one else in this section—just the two of you.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, trying to keep your voice steady, but your nerves betrayed you.

"Getting your attention," he said simply, tilting his head as his eyes roamed over your face. "Because you’re clearly trying to avoid me, and that’s no fun."

You tried to step back, but the shelf pressed against your spine. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, and the faint scent of his cologne invaded your senses, disorienting you.

"You can’t just—just do this," you stammered, your hands hovering awkwardly at your sides, unsure whether to push him away or keep them where they were.

"Why not?" he asked, his tone infuriatingly calm. His eyes flicked down to your lips for the briefest moment before meeting your gaze again. "It’s not like you’ve told me to stop."

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. He smiled, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

"So, here’s the deal," he said, leaning in just a little closer. His voice dropped to a near whisper, sending a shiver down your spine. "I’m asking you out. Right here, right now."

Your eyes widened. "You’re what?"

"You heard me," he said, his smile widening. "Let me take you out. Dinner, drinks, whatever you want."

You blinked at him, your mind scrambling to process his words. Of all the things he could have said, this was the last thing you expected.

"You’re insane," you finally muttered, trying to look anywhere but at him.

"You’ve mentioned that," he replied with a chuckle. "But you didn’t say no."

"No," you said quickly, finally finding your voice.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. "Is that your final answer?"

"Yes," you snapped, though it came out weaker than you’d intended.

His smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew. "We’ll see about that," he murmured, leaning back slightly, though he didn’t move away entirely. "I’ve got time."

You glared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "I don’t."

"Then I’ll just have to be quick, won’t I?" he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Before stepping back entirely, his hand darted out, catching yours in his grip. You tensed, your instinct telling you to pull away, but his hold was firm yet strangely gentle. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, lingering on the ring you’d forgotten you were wearing—the one he had sent in a gift bag just a few days ago.

"Ah," he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he admired it. "You kept it. You do like my gifts, after all."

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could say anything, he bent down, his lips brushing the back of your hand in a kiss that sent a jolt through your body.

"Perfect fit," he murmured as he straightened, his smirk firmly in place. "Looks even better on you than I imagined."

Your face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and anger. "What is wrong with you?" you hissed, yanking your hand away and cradling it to your chest like it had been burned.

He just chuckled, his gaze never leaving yours as he took a slow step back. "You’ll come around, doll," he said, his confidence maddening.

"Not in a million years," you snapped.

"We’ll see," he said, winking before turning and walking away, his casual stride making it seem like he didn’t have a care in the world.

You stood there for a moment, staring after him, your hand still pressed against your chest.

After that it was relentless. Every time your phone buzzed, you knew it was him. The texts came like clockwork: teasing remarks, flirtatious comments, and, without fail, him asking you out. You rejected him every time, telling him no, reminding him this was never going to happen, but he never seemed fazed.

He started showing up. At first, it was just at your job. He’d stroll in like he owned the place, leaning casually against the counter, that smirk of his permanently etched on his face. He’d make small talk, tease you, and then, inevitably, ask, "Dinner tonight?"

"No," you’d reply sharply, barely sparing him a glance as you went about your work.

"One day, you’ll say yes," he’d say confidently before leaving, and it drove you insane.

Then he escalated.

The first time he showed up outside your school, you almost screamed. You had just stepped out of the building when you saw him leaning against a sleek black car, arms crossed, sunglasses perched on his nose.

"What are you doing here!?" you asked, narrowing your eyes as you stopped a few feet away from him.

"Figured I’d give you a ride home," he said nonchalantly, tilting his head toward the car.

"I don’t need a ride," you said, crossing your arms.

"Didn’t ask if you needed one," he replied smoothly, opening the passenger door with a casual flourish. "Get in."

"No."

He sighed dramatically, removing his sunglasses and looking at you with those piercing eyes of his. "Look, we can stand here all day, or you can get in the car. Your choice, doll."

You glared at him, your stubbornness clashing with his. But as the minutes ticked by and other students started to glance your way, you finally relented with a huff. "Fine."

"Knew you’d see reason," he said with a grin as you climbed into the car.

The bickering didn’t stop there. You told him repeatedly to leave you alone, to stop showing up, but he never listened.

"You’re persistent," you muttered one day as he drove, your arms crossed as you stared out the window.

"I prefer ‘determined,’" he replied with a smirk, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny the small, traitorous part of you that almost looked forward to his appearances. It was maddening, frustrating, and yet… you didn’t hate it.

--

The late evening air was crisp as you got ready, the faint sound of distant cars humming in the background. You glanced down at yourself, smoothing out the fabric of your outfit—a dress that hugged you just right.

You slipped on your heels, the soft click of them on the ground echoing as you locked the door behind you. Your purse hung over your shoulder, packed with just the essentials.

Your friends’ car was parked at the curb, the music already blaring as the passenger window rolled down. Yuna was in the front seat, leaning out slightly to wave at you with a grin. "Finally! We thought you’d take forever!"

"I’m here, aren’t I?" you teased, walking toward the car and opening the door.

Wonyoung and Chaewon were in the backseat, laughing over something on Wonyoung’s phone. Yuna turned down the music slightly as you climbed in and buckled your seatbelt.

"You look amazing," Chaewon said, eyeing your outfit with approval.

"Agreed!" Wonyoung added, nudging you playfully. "Who’s the lucky guy tonight?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. "It’s not like that. Let’s just have fun, okay?"

The car roared to life as Yuna stepped on the gas, the upbeat music filling the small space once again. The club was about twenty minutes away, and as you looked out the window, the city lights blurred past.

When the car pulled into the parking lot of the club, you stepped out, adjusting your dress and looking up at the bright neon sign that lit up the entrance.

What you didn’t notice was the black car that parked a few rows away. Inside, a familiar figure sat, watching you intently as you laughed with your friends and disappeared into the crowd at the entrance.

The dance floor was crowded, bodies moving to the beat, lights flashing in bursts of color that left you feeling free, untethered.

You swayed to the music, letting yourself get lost in it, your arms lifting as you spun slightly. Everything felt good—better than it had in a long time. Your friends were nearby, dancing and laughing, but at that moment, you were in your own little world.

Until you weren’t.

A hand brushed your waist, and a figure stepped up behind you. At first, you thought nothing of it—people were constantly bumping into each other on the crowded floor. But then you caught it: the sour, musky scent of sweat and stale cologne. It wasn’t pleasant, and it made your nose wrinkle instinctively.

The guy leaned in closer, his presence too heavy, his breath hot against your neck as he tried to match your movements. You froze for a second, then subtly shifted away, putting some distance between you and him without making a scene.

But he followed.

He pressed in again, his hand grazing your arm this time, and you turned to glance at him over your shoulder. He was taller, with an unsettling grin and eyes that were too confident. His intentions were clear, and the sight of him only made your unease grow.

You moved again, this time more deliberately, angling yourself toward your friends. But before you could take another step, the guy grabbed your wrist lightly, leaning down so you could hear him over the music. "Where you going, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice slurred, his grip tightening just enough to make your stomach churn.

Your heart sped up, and you tugged your wrist away, your voice firm but not loud. "I’m not interested."

He didn’t seem to care. "Don’t be like that. I just wanna talk."

You scanned the dance floor, hoping to spot one of your friends, but the crowd felt suffocating now, the lights too bright. Panic bubbled just beneath the surface as the guy moved closer again.

But then, out of nowhere, another presence loomed behind you—larger, steadier. A hand reached out and clasped the guy’s shoulder, pulling him back sharply.

"She said she’s not interested," a familiar voice said.

Your head whipped around, and your stomach dropped. It was him. Standing there in the middle of the club, his jaw tight, his eyes dark and burning with intensity.

The guy holding your wrist scowled, trying to shake his grip off. "What’s it to you, man?"

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Everything."

The guy hesitated, clearly weighing his options, but after a tense moment, the guy muttered something under his breath and released your wrist, disappearing into the crowd.

He turned to you, his hand brushing yours as if checking to make sure you were okay. "You alright?" he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, though your heart was still racing. "What are you doing here?"

His lips curved into a faint smirk. "What can I say? I like keeping an eye on what’s mine."

Your eyes narrowed, a mix of annoyance and confusion. "I’m not yours."

But he just chuckled, his hand falling away as he took a step back. "Not yet."

He turned to walk into the crowd, leaving you to stand there.

For a split second, everything felt like it was moving too fast, and then, without thinking, you grabbed his arm. The wolf—no, he—stopped in his tracks, his body going stiff for a moment, surprised.

You didn’t care. You were done letting things happen around you without doing something.

You tugged on his sleeve, pulling him back toward you, and he let you. His dark eyes flickered with surprise as he leaned down, close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin. His presence was intense, like a fire you couldn’t step away from, his hands instinctively falling to your waist, holding you steady as if you might fall.

"Where do you think you're going?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, though it was more demanding than you expected.

His grip on you tightened, his body language shifting from the casuality he’d always shown to something a bit more... intimate. "I could ask you the same thing," he replied, his voice low.

You swallowed, your pulse quickening. Something about this, about him being so close, felt like it was pulling you in deeper. You’d been fighting the connection for so long, but now, with his arms around you, the fight felt distant.

“I’m not some... object to control,” you said, but even you could hear the uncertainty in your voice.

His lips curled into a faint, teasing smile, and he leaned even closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. "No, you're not," he murmured, his voice a gentle hum against your ear. "But you like when I take control, don’t you?"

Your breath hitched. It was a question, but he was already certain of the answer. Your hands instinctively moved to his chest, your fingers grazing the fabric of his shirt.

He looked at you for a long beat, his gaze softer now, as if he was studying you. "You really don`t want me to leave?"

You didn't answer right away, but when you did, your words were quiet, raw. "I don't know what I want anymore."

He didn’t let you go, his fingers brushing your hair back gently, his lips ghosting over your temple as he leaned down. "Maybe I can help you figure it out."

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden tenderness. His touch was so gentle...

“I don’t even know your name,” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours with a gaze that made everything in the room seem a little less important. There was a flicker of amusement in his expression, “It’s Ni-ki,” he said simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to give you that piece of him.

Ni-ki.

You repeated it silently in your mind, the name feeling foreign but familiar, a puzzle piece that somehow fit.

Before you could even process it fully, his hand brushed against your cheek, his thumb gently tracing your skin. "Have fun," he added, his voice softer now.

Then, without another word, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. Before Ni-ki turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

You touched your forehead where his lips had been, feeling the trace of his kiss burn even though he was already gone.

What had just happened?

Part 2 here

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[daenysx]

Hii can you write where james and reader are both the only virgins in the group so decided to do it together to get it over with but then they started to do it more often bcs james is absolutely obsessed with her.

thank you for requesting, i hope you like this! requests are open!!

james potter x fem!reader, nsfw

becoming experts

james thinks maybe he should be embarrassed.

here he is, knocking on your door, standing at your doorstep with your favorite dessert in his hand. this is the third time in this week, and it won't be the last. he fixes his posture, puts a little smile on his face, and knocks on your door again. he is fine.

you open the door, wearing only your sleep shorts and a little tank top, which is both a blessing and a curse for james's poor heart. your hair seems a little messy, your face without any make up, and you look beautiful. your lips curve upwards when you see james at your doorstep, you are quick to pull him inside.

"hi, sweetheart." james says as he steps inside. "i hope this is not a bad time."

you look at him like he's said the silliest thing in the world. "come on, jamie, you know there's no such a thing as bad time for you."

"yeah, yeah, i'm glad." why is he acting so out of character? suddenly he's shy, blushing when you point at his hand.

"is that for me?" you ask, kind of shy but more comfortable than him.

he nods. "of course, there you go."

he gives you the box and you take it with a huge smile on your face. "thank you!"

james's heart takes a leap.

you lead him inside, your little living room looks cozy with all those blankets spread on your couch and the warm air covering the room. you take the dessert with two spoons, sitting on the couch and inviting james next to you. he takes off his jacket and kicks his shoes, sits next to you, hoping to be less awkward in the next moments of this act.

"would you like something to drink?" you ask.

james shakes his head. "no, maybe later."

you nod, taking a spoonful of your dessert. "this is perfect. literally the best thing in the world, thank you so much."

james laughs. "you're welcome, angel."

you look at his unused spoon. "why don't you eat?"

he doesn't know. his mouth is dry, he should get a grip on himself. "i'm-"

your lips look perfect around that spoon.

"you've got chocolate- here." he leans into your space slowly.

you smile, his fingers cup your cheek. "this is so cliche."

"you think so?" he whispers.

"you know," you begin. "if you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask."

james leans back on the couch, suddenly free of shyness to jump on the opportunity. "what if i want more than just a kiss?"

"i'm sure we can do something about that." you take another spoon of chocolate sauce.

"oh, baby." james says, pulling you to his lap. "come here."

your hands are empty, you move quickly to him. your legs are on each side of his thighs and you sit gently. "how do you feel?" he asks, holding your hands.

"i'm fine. really, really good."

"you sound unnaturally teasing. i thought that was supposed to be me."

you shrug. "i don't know, you act weird today. it's not like this is the first time we're being this close."

the best night of james's life was probably the night he'd spend at your apartment, in your bed. you were naked, so was he, the wine was kicking like a liquid courage as you had sex for the first time. you could expect weirdness between you two, you were both each other's first time and you had been friends for years, but it never happened. it felt so good and so right, james lost himself between your legs and you made sounds that you've never made before.

you were both inexperienced, subject of sirius's little teasings and remus's sympathetic looks when it comes to stuff about sex. you don't know how did things happened as they have that night, but suddenly you were kissing james. you could be afraid if this would ruin your friendship but at that moment everything was so good, you could never imagine the act could ever feel like this.

since that night, james had been to your apartment once more. he was just trying to make sure everything's okay between you and your friendship still stands. then, he was taking off his clothes and you were leaning towards him. you took his cock in your mouth for the first time and james forgot everything except your name.

now, here you are, trying to balance yourself on james's lap, keeping yourself still to not press against him. "james," you say. "it's okay. i- i want you too."

james throws his head back, his hands still holding yours. he looks at you through his glasses and smiles. "i just want you to feel good."

"i'm always feeling good when i'm with you." you say, honestly. "i think we fit each other really well and i- i want it, with you."

"yeah?" james pulls you closer. "you want it, pretty girl?"

you nod. james continues. "i guess we've got addicted." he says like it's a secret. "but that's okay. we can keep going as long as you're good with it."

you start the kiss and james exhales, finally. he cups your cheeks, angles your neck to deepen the kiss. you taste sweet, he licks the chocolate left on your lips. you whimper quietly, feeling him harden under you. this is good, you think. this is so perfect, it doesn't feel any wrong.

james's hands go to your back and he rubs your skin affectionally. he breaks the kiss to brush his lips on your pulse point. you take a breath, holding onto his shoulders. "james." you say. "i wanna go to bed."

he obliges, lifts you easily, and carries you to your bedroom. he is gentle when he puts you on bed, you are quick to take off your clothes. you are not shy to be naked around him, he makes you feel safe. you throw your clothes somewhere on the floor and settle down on bed, watching james.

he looks at you, eyes focused, and mouth slightly open. is he dreaming? this surely is better than any dream, you are lovely as you lay there and wait for him.

he doesn't intend to tease you or make you wait. you've been so honest and sweet with him, you deserve to get what you want. james makes a quick work of his clothes, leaving everything on the floor until he is bare in front of you. he gets on his knees on bed and reaches you. you part your legs obediently, without expecting a word from him.

"you're so pretty, sweetheart." james says, fondly. "you know that, right?"

you squirm under his hands. "jamie, please."

"you should know that." he says, kisses your chest. "you should be aware of the power you have on me."

you shake your head. "it's mutual, and you're being silly."

"let me be romantic for a second, yeah?" he kisses your perked nipple. "fuck, gonna give you everything you want."

"please." you say, losing your breath when he sucks your nipple. he likes using his mouth on you, you realize. he slowly goes down on your body and you laugh when he kisses below your belly button.

"tickles?" he asks, ever so playful.

you nod. "will you do it again?"

he answers by kissing the same spot over and over, turns you into a mess under his mouth. his fingers are quick to touch your cunt, he collects the wetness that starts pooling and rubs it all over. "will you let me taste you?" he asks, begging for a yes. "i wonder if you taste so sweet everywhere."

"you- i guess you can, if you want." you arch your back, subtly press your cunt against his mouth.

"if i want? i'm dying for it."

he buries his face between your legs, tries to get directing noises out of you. he's not experienced but he finds himself to be a quick learner when it comes to you. he licks the wetness out of you and pushes his tongue inside. you wrap your legs around his neck, the sensation is so strange but suddenly it starts feeling good. you remember the second time you had sex and how you felt insatiable to take his cock in your mouth. he must feel that way right now, you think, because he never stops making those wild noises as he uses his mouth.

james sucks your clit relentlessly. you whimper, his name becomes a song. he grips your thighs and holds you in your place. "james- so close- so clo- hmm-"

he lifts his head just for a second. "come for me, lovely girl. let go for me, this is perfect."

you obey, arch your back as he sucks again, and you're dripping in his mouth. james keeps licking, helps you through your peak. you feel so tired, so exhausted, so naked, and it's good. james keeps you steady, his cock twitches at the sight of your cunt, all swollen and licked.

"are you okay, baby?" he coos. "we can stop."

you shake your head. you can't stop because he's addictive. "i want you inside." there's no crumb of shyness left. "please, i want it."

james angles you to be more comfortable, he rubs the skin of your thigh. "gotta be slow, okay?" he says.

you nod, messy and desperate. "however you want."

he positions his cock in just the right way. he is being slow and quiet as he keeps pushing, he knows it's a tight fit. when you clench around him he can't help himself, he goes a little fast. "oh, angel." he whispers, mouth closed on your neck. he pushes himself again. "so tight, just like the first time i got you like this. you're gonna make me come soon if you squeeze around me like that."

you part your legs a little more, holding onto his broad shoulders. "i like this so much. so full, jamie."

james starts moving inside you, still careful but easier. you try to move your hips accordingly, it's like a new dance both of you are trying to learn better. he is worried he'll come too soon, because you're being irresistable.

"can you touch me- right, right there?" you ask, position his fingers on your clit.

"yeah, yeah, of course."

his fingers play with you until you start begging for him to come. he keeps pushing himself until he can't see straight anymore. "can i come? james, can i come again?" you melt, so close and so wet, you can hear the wetness pooling on bed.

"yes, come on, sweet thing." he pushes the deepest he's ever been, you clench so hard, he starts coming. "come with me."

you are sure you lose your sight for a second. james explodes on your belly, his strength helps him pull himself back before coming inside you but he keeps playing with your clit so you clench around him and nothing as you come. you see him, you see stars, you feel so sensitive. james groans as he holds his cock to let out every drop of his cum. he exhales your name, desperate to lay down with you on the bed. you are quick to pull him on your chest, he puts his head on your body, and listens your heartbeat.

minutes pass in silence as you both catch your breaths. james rubs your skin with gentle fingers. you stroke his curls, and press a kiss on his forehead.

"i think we're getting pretty good at this." you say, smiling.

"yeah, i guess we are quite the experts of sex now." he says. "can you imagine sirius's reaction?"

"oh, he'd probably never believe it." you say. "but that's fine."

james sits on bed. "would you like to have shower? we've made quite the mess of each other."

you nod, reach for his hand as you sit next to him. "jamie," you begin, "there's no one else that i'd rather do this with. you're- you're the only one for me."

james smiles, kisses your forehead lovingly. "i'd hope so, sweetness." he gives your hand a squeeze. "you're the only one for me, as well."

♡

(you can check here to find out about sirius and remus's reactions lovelies.)