#Inappropriate Euphoria

[volatile-shorty]

my nibling came over the other day and inspected all the new 'weirdo art' i taped to my walls. they did Not approve.

[bernardsbendystraws]

Bf .ᐟ Matt lets Chris use a sex toy on you

⚠︎ smut, sex toys, chratt stuff, cuck!matt, sub!reader, dom!matt, praising, degrading, freak shit ! (would a part 3 be too much)

part one

Honestly, what the fuck were you doing. Nothing about this was normal—nothing about this was morally okay. Your boyfriend shouldn’t be sharing you with his brother. 

He shouldn’t be enjoying it this much either. 

Last time, Chris was only watching. He was hesitant to even touch your knee, but now? Oh god. He couldn’t help himself now. The man’s hands were curious—needy and selfish. 

“Oh my—” 

Your mouth drops open as you feel Chris push the sex toy into you. There’s an attachment that stretches you with the perfect vibration, another smaller one that creates the exact pressure you crave on your clit. 

“Shit—you–you’re clenching around it so much…I can–can barely fuck you with it,” Chris swallows thickly, hesitantly looking over at Matt and then over to you. The sight of your face contorted with pleasure makes his dick ache in his jeans—but this was the deal. 

Just watch. 

He wants to touch you—truly touch you—but this was the closest thing Matt would let him get for now. Technically, Chris is still only observing. His hands aren’t directly on you, not anywhere inappropriate at least. 

His palm is flattened on the middle of your inner thigh, keeping you spread as Matt holds your other leg open. The echoing vibration from the toy only adds to how overwhelmed you feel with euphoria. 

Two pairs of eyes and so many hands.

All on you. 

“Is he making you feel good, sweetheart?” Matt coos, his tone dripping in a layer of sympathy that doesn’t reach his sadistic eyes. He enjoys this—way more than he should. 

Your boyfriend is obsessed with how overwhelmed you seem, how utterly lost you are in all the sensations piling down on you all at once. 

“Babyyyy…” Matt sings, leaning down until his lips graze your ear. 

Oh god.

You shiver as he nibbles on the rim of your ear, your back arching as Matt presses his hand harder on your thigh, dragging it until your knee is pressed against your chest as he starts to kiss sloppily along your thumping pulse. 

“Is he makin’ my princess feel good?” he asks again, his tone sickeningly prideful as he laughs at the pathetic noises spilling from your lips. 

He knows your body. Matt made it his mission to learn more about what makes you squirm—what makes you fall into a sobbing mess for his own entertainment. 

The way he’s pressing your leg to your chest allows the sex toy Chris is fucking into you to hit just the right spot. 

Your vision turns white, your head spinning as you feel your hips erratically spasm. 

“-cum! I—fuck!” you scream, being met with zero mercy as Chris continues to plunge the vibrations into your wet cunt, letting the friction on your clit dig against your swollen bud. 

Another sound scratches through your throat. It feels like so much—too much—but all you want is more. 

Matt lets his teeth and lips eat at your sensitive skin along your neck, his smile apparent as he pins your leg against your chest even harder to keep you in place. None of your frantic squirms make him loosen his grip. 

And it hits you—it hits you hard. 

The high that ripples through your system is overbearing. Tears leak from the corner of your eyes, your entire body going rigid as your muscles tremble. The butterflies in your stomach erupt like a storm, every vein coursing with an electric pleasure as your breath catches in your chest. 

“Thaatttt’s it, fuck—look how good you’re doin’ for us,” Matt husks.

You tremble from the echoing vibrations of the toy as it comes to an abrupt stop. Chris slowly removes it, his chest tightening as he watches your entrance clench around nothing. 

And he can’t help himself. 

Something drags his fingers between your legs, something that makes him feel so lightheaded that he can barely think. 

“Holy shit…” Chris whispers, his fingers gently touching your swollen, sloppy folds. 

The sound that leaves your lips and the way your body twitches calls him back to reality. His eyes widen as he realizes what he’s done, he looks over to see Matt glaring with a disapproving squint. 

“Sorry.” Chris mumbles. He tries his best to stop looking—to stop staring at your sloppy wetness that seems to beg for his attention. But he can’t. 

His hand moves up to your knee, his lip stinging as his teeth gnaw into the soft muscle as he attempts to swallow the lump in his throat. 

The reminder echos in his head as he takes in the heavenly sight of you fucked out and breathless;

Just watch.

a/n: pls match my freak bro. i'm just tryna be horny and vibe. anyhow, any interaction is appreciated! im too scared to use my taglist so i'll tag the ppl that specifically asked to be tagged in the comments cus im a pussy <333 lmk if a part 3 would be wanted or if this is too much LMAO. anywayyyyyyys

with love and big tits, rose ꫂ ၴႅၴ

[hoshigray]

hear me out🙏 imagine student body president!sukuna and delinquent!reader😍 same scenario but just switched

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i hear you, loud AND clear !!

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: student body president! Sukuna x bratty delinquent fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; you and kuna are college seniors - oral (m! + slight f! receiving) - face + throat fucking - clitoral play (sucking) - impact play (cheek + pussy slaps) - fingering (f! receiving) - standing + piledriver positions - unprotected sex - overstimulation - dumbification - degradation (brat, cumslut, pig, slut, whore) - blackmail - dick piercing (frenulum) - mention of drool/spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k

If there’s one thing that Sukuna loves more than anything, it’s power.

For Sukuna, the pinnacle of power is not just a status but a destiny he believes is his alone. In his heart of hearts, he knows he is the one who can keep this school in check, his control palpable in every corner of the campus.

Having Ryōmen Sukuna as the student body president of the senior class was either the best or worst thing, depending on who was asked. Although intimidated by some faculty and professors, they saw him as a significant influence on maintaining the students’ behavior for the college’s image. As for his peers, some would vouch that he was the scariest person they've ever met within their college student’s behaviors on campus. As for the students…whether they made sure not to get in the salmon-pink-haired man’s way, did as they were told, or generally avoided getting in his bad side all around, the truth was known in the air: Sukuna is a force not meant to be reckoned with. 

So, dealing with people who stand in his line of power will be dealt with — especially brats like you.

You were the biggest thorn in Sukuna’s side, a true innocent fool who dared disobey him without fear of consequence. For one, you were such a disrespectful minx, always speaking to him with such a foul mouth as if his aura that frightens others doesn’t shake you down. You bat your eyes at him during his lectures, dumb doe eyes that flutter with dull eyelids as if not a single word from his mouth was processed in that mind of yours as you’ll just wound up doing the exact shit again within a week or less. You have no amount of respect for his superior status, treating Sukuna like some big shot. 

“Tah, you don’t scare me, Prez!” You mocked with a laugh. “You and your little tattoos can go somewhere and make the other babies piss their pants and leave me the hell alone. Mind your business and stay outta mine.”

God, to say you were insufferable was scratching the surface. Sukuna can admit that nothing in his last year of college would allow him to experience absolute euphoria than crushing that childish grin off your face. It’s all he can think about whenever he has the misfortune of seeing your name or catching your face in the halls on his way to lectures and meetings.

But then again, if he can’t discipline you in the way he wanted on school grounds, it doesn’t mean you’re safe from him on the outside.

And then, like a miracle to his prayers, he finally had the dirt to give him all the more motivation. His second in command, Uraume, had found some evidence of your inappropriate behavior on the school’s campus. Pictures and videos alike, his smile grew bigger the deeper he looked into it.

Images of you flashing your bare tits in what seems to be a party in one of the dormitories and some drunk guy motorboating your chest, another of you smoking weed in one of the laboratories, which were undoubtedly smoke-free, and one portraying you fingering yourself in while sucking off one of the basketball athletes in the gymnasium men’s locker room. And the cherry on top was explicit videos of yourself that would tarnish the school’s reputation and have you expelled in seconds — absolute music to Sukuna’s ears. 

The thought of destroying your image and exposing you to the filthy bitch you have put a spark of joy in the student body president’s cruel heart. But what would the fun be if he threw this evidence out all at once? He was a man who loved to drag out the torture of his victims. So, when he pulls you aside, to your dismay, and showcases the dirt he has on you, the look on your face? Not even a picture would be enough for him to enjoy such a glorious reaction. He never thought he’d see where you’d beg and plead to him on your knees, only fueling the superiority within his stance.

However, he likes to play with his food. So, he’ll put his hands up, “Alright, fine, I won’t take this to the higher-up…” yet the smirk didn’t match the comfort expressed. “On one condition.”

And for said condition? To use you and see your talents for himself.

“Damn, this mouth really knows how to work, huh?”

Oh, to be fucking your face in the student body government lounge isn’t something he’d expect. But holy shit, is he not fucking complaining. He throws his head back as his pelvis relentlessly smacks the plump of your soapy lips. His hands grabbed your head and forced you onto his length, which you were crying on like crazy.

Tears roll down your face; the harshness of his ruts sting like hell. You could only grip his jeans to steady, yet the more he bullies his dick into your throat, your train of thought becomes more impossible to follow through. 

He slaps your cheeks, “Pay attention, bitch,” he curses from above and yanking you by the ear. “Loosen that jaw of yours and suck me off like the cumslut you are.”

Your glare gratifies him, watching you obey his words and hollow your cheeks. Jesus, the tightness of your throat has shivers crawl to his shoulders.

“Mmmff! Mmmm!!” Your muffled whimpers were all his ears could pick up on, and they made him sigh heavenly. He peers down to meet such a naughty image: your lips coated in saliva and his precum bubbling and piling with every snap and pull of his hips. Your tears and furrowed brows gave him the hugest ego boost of his life, making the devilish superior push feverishly into your mouth. 

“—Mnnph! Yesss, yeah, that’s right; keep cryin’, you fucking brat.”  Fuck, he’s so fucking close; your mouth and tongue were doing mad work for him to release, busting his load into your throat and succumbing to you to drink and accept his semen.

Balls deep to your lips, saliva mixes with salty tears, striking down your chin. You swallow every bit of him with a satisfied hum, eyes rolling up when he grinds his pelvis for his dick to go deeper.

But that doesn’t mean you should rest — hell no. Sukuna rips his erect limb out of your mouth and pushes you to your back with a kick. You couldn’t interject as he pushed your legs to your chest. An exotic position that exposes the damp spot of your thong from your lifted skirt. 

The president tsks at the display with a sneer. “Fucking slut, so wet from just sucking me off.” He slides the underwear and is welcomes to your scent and taste when he glides his tongue to your clit. “You really are a fucking bitch in heat, huh?”

His tongue pets and laps around your labia, lubing your vagina with his spit while slurping your essence that messes around your inner thighs. You’re choked up, whining from his tongue fucking the entrance of you and licking your clit.

“—Ohoo! Hoohh, Sukunaa, pleaseee,” you slurred from the suck of your clit, his tongue pushing it and grazing his teeth with the delicate bud. “Hahhhfuckk, put it innn, ‘Kuna, I want—Daaahaa!!” You cried at the slap of your cunt, stinging your sensitive clit from the rough palm of his hand.

“Don’t tell me what to do, brat,” another smack to your slit as you cough up spit. “Such a broad, only thinking with just your pussy.” Although, he had to admit, seeing your pussy wink from his hits and teases made his pride sing. With a low chuckle, he straightens up, your anticipation climbing up when he brings his middle and forefinger to wet with saliva.

Yet a record scratches at the feel of something wet around your asshole, the digits pushing and teasing your puckered entrance. Begs fly out you’re mouth, but they substitute with a scream when his fingers manage to insert inside and massage around your walls.

“What, you thought I was just gonna play with that pussy like you wanted?” He laughs at your cries, stroking his ego from your anus, clamping onto him with the scrape of his fingernails. “You got some nerve; only dirty pigs like you get dirty rewards.” You gasp at the withdrawal of his fingers, and he whistles at the sight. “So here ya go, little slut…”

Sukuna aligns his cock to your rear, pushing it with no care for your lack of preparation. You scream at the insert of his cockhead and piercing, and the stretch that comes along his inches burrowing inside causes more tears to fall. But not in pain—the expression on your face showed no sign of resentment. 

“Haaahh, yeeesshh,” your hands come to the back of your ass to help the position you’re in, the angle making your writhing figure jolt. And it gets better once Sukuna’s hips go at a mediocre pace. “Shooo goood…!!”

Your hands find Sukuna’s ankles when his frenulum piercing jabs you with precision with the increase of his erratic thrusts. High pitches and shrieks fill the student body lounge, skin slapping against each other, creating an inappropriate sound. Like Sukuna cares, though; fucking your ass on the floor with no grace — so much for a president.

“—Khheh, hooohshiiit, pig can’t even speak properly, making such a ruckus.” It’s true; you showed no restraint in concealing your wails. If anything, they get louder and louder with the clasp of your butthole on his length, drool spilling from your agape mouth. “Noisy ass acting all dumb on my cock.” 

The graze of his piercing gets worse every second; shit feels way too good, like his balls smacking down your ass. But you couldn’t foresee his next move; Sukuna slipped his middle finger inside your chasm and wiggled around your vagina. A strong yelp erupts from your body from the “come hither” motion that scratches your upper walls, and you can’t help but let yourself go.

Your climax has you howling, your holes contracting with force from every passing wave that rocks your core. You pant heavily, milking the dick that continues to plunge into your ass, Sukuna groaning at the grasp of your anus and the walls around his middle finger. 

He then pulls his digit out and brings it to his mouth, sucking your liquids with a smirk. “Not bad, broad.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[onlyangel4]

put some clothes on. LS2. SMAU.

logan sargeant x actress!reader

in which logan is dating an actress who is not afraid to do sex scenes and play risque controversial characters so when they hard launchf1 fandom decides that she is not wag material. but logan and reader do not give a fuck.

faceclaim- sydney sweeney

warnings: 18+ sexual content, cursing, slut shaming

author's note: please do keep on sending requests, the more detailed the better! i write written fic and smaus for most of the grid and a handful of associated people.

y/ninsta

liked by zendaya, tomholland, hunterschafer and 1,230,101 others

y/ninsta: save a horse ride a cowboy

view all 13,291 comments

zendaya: you are glowing my love

y/ninsta: that means a lot coming from you, queen of the glow

y/nfan: miss girl you can not just soft launch and leave us like this i stg

user3: guys we have lost her. to a man.

user4: oh y/n i thought what we had was special

logansargeant

liked by alexalbon, danielricciardo, landonorris and 157,601 others

logansargeant: life lately

view all 8,301 comments

f1fan: omg omg logan is soft launching

user6: i'm surprised he even knows what a soft launch is

danielricciardo: i have known who your girl is for like six months and i am still fucking shocked

user8: six months! they have been together that long and we had no idea?

user7: daniel spill who tf is she

alexalbon: finally soft launching the girl that keeps on stealing lily from me

f1wags

liked by f1fan, user9, user10 and 56,798 others

f1wags: admin can not believe that they are typing this right now but logan sargeant just hard launched his relationship with y/n y/ln by attending the season two premiere of euphoria. y/ln plays cassie in the popular show and has won awards for her work but she is also known to play out there characters and do intimate scenes in film. something pretty much unheard of for a wag. what are your thoughts on this couple.

view all 908 comments

user9: my two worlds are colliding i adore y/n and i hate the current discourse around her relationship with logan. yes she plays these characters and films these scenes but it is all for entertainment. she is hollywood's it girl at the moment for a damn good reason.

user10: i can't believe i have seen logan sargeants girlfriend's tits that is mental

user6: that just isn't wag behaviour

user11: not logan dating hollywood's whore

f1fan: she will never be a worthy wag her behaviour is just inappropriate

y/ninsta

liked by logansargeant, danielricciardo, alexademie and 1,923,731 others

y/ninsta: my baby euphoria season two is out now ! i had the best time filming this with my favourite people i hope you all love it as much as i do.

view all 21,438 comments

logansargeant: so proud of you my love

user12: proud of your girlfriend for having sex on tv? you do you boo

danielricciardo: logan introduced me to euphoria and i am fucking addicted

user13: how can you support this relationship

user14: i am both a f1 and y/n fan and i am fucking disgusted by the comments over the post. this is a woman celebrating the release of something that she had worked so hard on and you are all criticing her just because you think you know what is right for her boyfriend. fucking childish.

liked by y/ninsta and logansargeant

logansargeant posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: so proud of my girl

user15 replied to your story: tell your girl to put her tits away

logansargeant blocked user15

y/ninsta

liked by logansargeant, zendaya, lilymhe and 2,129,091 others

y/ninsta: somebody pinch me ! i collaborated with frankie's bikinis to bring you a line of seven bikinis. the ones featured in these pictures are my three favourites but i wholeheartedly believe that there is a style for everyone in the line. drops on the 1st of may !

view all 21,210 comments

lilymhe: my jaw just dropped you are so hot

alexalbon: can confirm she has not stopped looking at these pictures since you posted them

logansargeant: that's my girl

y/ninsta: say it louder for the people in the back

logansargeant: THAT'S MY GIRL

user17: how can you hate this couple they are the cutest

user18: put some clothes on

user19: put some clothes on

user20: put some clothes on

logansargeant

liked by y/ninsta, danielricciardo, zendaya and 250,982 others

tagged: y/ninsta

logansargeant: please stop telling my girlfriend to put some clothes on it is detrimental to my mental health

view all 9,281 comments

y/insta: they could never make me

logansargeant: exactly what i want to hear babygirl

user20: babygirl! i'm going to go lay in traffic

alexalbon: pr is going to kill you mate

logansargeant: worth it

user21: everyone say sorry mister sargeant it will not happen again

user22: sorry mister sargeant it will not happen again

user23: sorry mister sargeant it will not happen again

user24: sorry mister sargeant it will not happen again

[angellic4l]

don't hate the player - d.m

massive thank you’s to @esote-rika @wheresmacoffee @notlongtolove @floraisunwell @mggslover my absolute angels!!!

in which; fem!bau!reader goes to a jazz bar and bumps into the last person she’d ever want to see

content: flirty!derek, fem!bau!reader, angst!!, they fight sort of, reader hates morgan (i promise there’s a point to this) mentions of sex but no one does anything, swearing, alcohol consumption, reader wears a dress and heels

2.5k

a/n: i see basically no derek fics unless its smut (i dont read that) so i’m showing him some love!! i will continue with spencer fics im just stressing trying to write my ideas for him. kisses!!!

One of the girls’ playlists was blaring in the big bedroom, ‘Cool For The Summer’ reverberating off of the creme walls as each of you were primping and priming yourselves. Hair tools plugged in and on, makeup bags half empty with their contents spread throughout the room, and mirrors almost everywhere.

The night had been planned weeks in advance, and you were lucky enough to get the whole day off instead of having to use a sick day. It was one of your friends’ 27th birthday, and the first time you’d been out with your friends for a while, so all of you were buzzing with excitement.

She wanted to go to a jazz club, to ‘experience that ‘20s aesthetic’, in her words. You absolutely couldn’t wait to be celebrating your friend in a jazz bar, imagining soulful music as the soundtrack to your night, espresso martinis, and just having fun with your friends while you got ready.

Once done fixing your hair, you turned off the curler and unplugged it, setting it back on the heat proof mat before grabbing your hung up dress from the top of a door. You changed in the bathroom, stepping into the dress so as not to mess up your hair. It was the perfect mix of elegant yet sexy, form-fitting in the right places, but not too much skin on show to be deemed inappropriate.

After taking photos with and of the birthday girl, and then a group photo of you all on a polaroid camera, a taxi was ordered to the house. Excitement gathered in your stomach, the realisation that you were actually going out for the first time in forever, to celebrate one of your closest friends’ birthday no less, setting in and making you feel giddy.

As you all walked into the jazz club, you were greeted with a dimly lit room, illuminated with orange lighting to give it that cozy, intimate atmosphere. Red brick walls, decorated with vinyls, paintings, and wall lamps, were lined with brown leather booths. The sweet symphony of the saxophone softly sailed through the place before settling in your ears.

For the first time in a while, you felt alive, truly alive. Of course, working in high stake situations, apprehending some of the worst criminals known to man, and acting in life or death situations constantly fills you with adrenaline. That would be considered as feeling alive by most people, but it isn’t.

In this moment, you felt electric. You were on a high, not because of adrenaline, but because of pure euphoria. The atmosphere was welcoming, intimate, and so full of passion. You and your friends were all sat around a table sharing anecdotes, laughing, drinking, and just having fun. There was nothing to worry about, no nerves about a phone call from Hotch, no having to filter what you say.

It was pure bliss, everything you’d been missing for a while, and you felt like nothing and no one could bring you down from this peak.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Being so in the moment with your friends, enjoying good gossip and reminiscing on your uni days together, meant that you weren’t really checking the time, nor did you care to. Subconsciously though, you figured it had been at least an hour since you’d arrived; 12 five minute songs had been performed, give or take.

Everyone was taking turns buying rounds, the group had agreed on it before the night. It was your turn to buy everyone’s drinks now. The bar was popular, but it wasn’t packed like a club was, and for that you were thankful. Carrying a tray of drinks back to the table, in heels no less, would’ve been a nightmare.

Standing at the deep brown, oak bar, waiting for the drinks, you watch your friends laughing and giggling. The contentment you felt still hadn’t gone away, coursing through your body as if it were inside every red blood cell, depositing this gleeful energy with each pump of your heart. A few moments pass before you turn your attention back to the bar, leaning on it ever so slightly, observing how the drinks are made.

Suddenly, you feel a presence to the side of you, but you figure it’s just another patron buying a drink. Then, there’s a voice. An all too familiar voice that seems to not only pull you down from your euphoric high, but plummet you deep into the depths of anger, too.

“Pretty girl, fancy seeing you here,” he almost sings and you can hear the arrogant smirk on his face without even turning to face him.

“Morgan. Please, for the love of all things good, do not talk to me,” you try to remain as civil as possible, he hasn’t actually done anything yet, and you’re not horrible.

Derek raises his hands in some mock surrender, but his smirk never wavers. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to humble him, wipe that smirk off of his face, and bring his ego down a few notches. Immensely gratifying, you’d decided a while ago.

To put it simply, Derek Morgan was everything you hated about men in today’s society. He was a cocky, arrogant, bastard with little to no regard for people’s feelings. And the worst thing? He talked about women as if they were conquests, notches in his bedpost, trophies for his fucking shelf. It pissed you off to no end, how he could act like the women he ‘dated’ or slept with weren’t real people who deserved basic human decency.

But, you worked with him, day in and day out, and you weren’t about to lose your job over someone as insufferable as him. Besides, as much as you could hate his self proclaimed ‘CasaNova’ ways, he was damn good at his job, and he hadn’t done anything to you directly. He was fully unaware of the stance you’d taken against him, and he hadn’t done anything to require you airing out your grievances. Yet.

A long suffering sigh escapes your gloss coated lips as you come to terms with these facts, realising you can’t be hostile to your coworker, even if you’re not at work, because he doesn’t even know you have a problem with him.

“Look, Morgan, I’m sorry for that, but I’m here with my friends, celebrating, and I want absolutely nothing to do with work right now,” you murmur, still leaning across the bar.

“Look, mama, I get it. Jus’ didn’t wanna be rude, that’s all,” his tone is soft, softer than you’ve ever heard Morgan speak, and it’s filled with understanding. To say you’re shocked would be an understatement.

The pair of you exchange small smiles, a fleeting farewell, before he grabs his drink and leaves. Maybe you’ve misunderstood him, even if you don’t agree with what he stands for, and maybe you’ve been too impulsive with your initial judgements. Derek Morgan is a dick, but maybe he isn’t always a dick.

Drinks are passed around the table, manicured hands grabbing at various coloured liquids in different shaped glasses. Euphoria is long gone after your interaction with Derek, no longer on that high of serenity but in a sea of uncertainty. You won’t let yourself be a Debby downer on your friend’s birthday, though. Being a profiler means knowing all of your own tells, so you mask them well, putting up a front of glee until it isn’t fake anymore.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Jazz music speaks to the soul, transcending all borders, dimensions, and whatever the hell else Reid talks about, to reach the quintessence of your being. Rhythmic notes reach deep until they’re at the core of you, becoming a balm to the very essence of yourself.

Being surrounded by something so passionate and deep works quickly to heighten your mood once more. The sea of uncertainty parts for serenity’s peak, the fake smile becoming real, and the way Derek’s surprising attitude had shifted your mood is washed away.

Out of nowhere, a server comes over to the table with a tray full of everyone’s exact orders, seemingly confident about the table number. She smiles at you, but your brow furrows with confusion.

“Oh, these can’t be for us, I just bought drinks,” you explain, confusion painting your face even more, bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly and a small wrinkle in between your eyebrows.

“No, no, they are! That guy over there just ordered them all for you. Don’t worry, he didn’t touch them, just bought ‘em,” the server explains, pointing to none other than Derek Morgan, sitting at the bar.

All of the girls’ heads whip over to look in his direction, finding the man sitting on a bar stool next to his friends, but his attention isn’t on any of the guys. Instead, his gaze is on you, a soft smile playing at his lips, watching expectantly. For what, you don’t know, but it seems shady. If you know anything about Derek, it’s that he doesn’t do things that don’t benefit him directly. God, it’s almost too predictable, sending drinks to a table of pretty girls, hoping to luck out and get some.

Clearly, your own friends don’t share the same sentiment, because there’s a chorus of ‘awh’s once they recognise him as Derek. None of them have met him before, but they’ve seen pictures, having stalked each of the BAU members after your transfer request had been accepted.

The birthday girl says your name, almost as if you’d personally offended her, while hitting your arm lightly. For a moment, you’re afraid Derek sending you all drinks genuinely did offend her, but she’s speaking before the worry takes root.

“You didn’t tell us he was hot! My god, look at those muscles,” she raves, rolling her bottom lip beneath her teeth while staring at him past your head.

“Hot? You’re kidding, right? He’s awful.”

“He just bought us all drinks! That’s not awful, that’s lovely.”

“No, but he’s not actually like that. It’s just a ploy!”

“Not everyone has ulterior motives. I think you’re letting all that crime stuff get to your head.”

“You don’t see him like I see him, he’s really no-“ she cuts you off.

“Can I go for it? Am I his type?”

You actually have to bite back a scoff at that, because anyone that breathes is basically Derek Morgan’s type. He’s not good enough for your friend, not for any of them, but you know her well enough to see that she won’t listen to a bad word you say against him now. Truthfully, you’re resigned, you don’t care, it’s her choice. If she wants to make the bed and share it with him, she can lie in it, too.

“You’re stunning, of course you’re his type. Be my guest,” and the second the words are out of your mouth, she’s walking over to him like a lioness about to pounce on her prey.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

For the rest of the girls, two drinks becomes four, then shots, and before they know it they’re slurring their words, no longer making any sense. Of course, you’d come out tonight to celebrate your friend’s birthday, to have fun and let loose, but you also know that at least one of you needs to be somewhat sober.

Not to say you’re entirely sober, because your inhibitions are definitely a little loose, but it’s the kind of drunk that reduces your filter and boosts your confidence. You’re still in full control of yourself, just maybe not your mouth. Or your bladder’s strength, ever since you broke your seal.

Walking back from the bathrooms through a larger crowd than there was before isn’t too difficult, but the singer on stage now is semi-famous in the jazz world, so people are treating the bar like a concert, standing in your way. Succeeding in your mission to get through the crowd, your speed picks up once you’re in the clear, the clack of your heels becoming more frequent.

In your rush back to your friends, you aren’t properly taking in your surroundings, gaze trained on the table to ensure they’re all alright. Thus, you’re quickly met with something hard, prompting your foot to slip, and you stumble backwards.

A large hand reaches out quickly, grabbing your hip to stabilise you and resting there to make sure you’re alright.

“Watch your step, pretty girl,” the hand says and you know the voice too well, the nickname slipping off of his tongue like it’s nothing, and suddenly your eyes are on Derek Morgan’s face once more.

How fucking embarrassing.

“Oh gosh, ‘m so sorry, I didn’t even realise,” you rush out, not even thinking about the fact that the man you have a massive issue with has his hand on your hip still.

“Don’t apologise. You can push up on me anytime you want to, sweet thing,” his voice is smooth, tone suggestive, and the smirk on his face is one you’ve seen plenty of times before. When he’s talking to pretty female police officers on a case, after he gets a girl’s number, when he’s talking about his rendezvous to Rossi at work. The fact that it’s being directed at you makes you feel a bit sick, to be honest, and it’s definitely not the martinis.

Any and all uncertainty you had about Derek Morgan’s character is gone in a flash, as is the serenity, and is instead replaced by an overwhelming fire of rage because he is exactly what you thought he was. He’s a pig, a disgusting one at that, and no small one off conversation, or him buying your friends drinks, or how good he is with kids, or how great he is at the job will ever change that in your eyes.

While the alcohol may not be making you feel sick, it’s definitely doing a whole lot for this rage, feeding the flames and giving you the confidence to finally give Morgan a piece of your mind. However, you still have some semblance of self control and so, you hold back a little, but not completely.

“As if, Morgan.”

“Pretty girl, you don’t gotta play hard to get.”

His arrogance drips from every word that leaves his mouth, seeping from his pores like sap from a tree. The fact he genuinely believes that you aren’t saying no, is so full of himself he believes your dismissal is you ‘playing hard to get’ enrages you even more, fueling the fire of your rage for the last time. Grabbing his hand on your hip and shoving it off, you start talking, tone as bitter as ever.

“I am not playing hard to get, Morgan. I simply do not want you.”

“Woah, sweetheart, what’s all the hostility for?”

“Because you’re a classic player! You have no respect for women. You just think they’re there for you to fuck and move on.”

“You know what they say - ‘Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“No. I do hate the player. You’re a self centered, egotistical, whorish bastard who doesn’t see women as anything but notches on his fucking bedpost. You don’t have any fucking respect for anyone that isn’t beneficial to you. People are not pawns in your game, women are not queens waiting to be conquered. Grow the fuck up, Morgan.”

Your words wiped the stupid smirk right off of his stupid face, left him speechless and expressionless, like a deer in headlights. Like your words, you left him standing there too, heading back to your friends at the booth. You were right. It was immensely gratifying.

tags: @darkmatilda

[vhagarys]

forgive me

aemond x wife!reader

summary: his lady wife summons him to the throne room. the last thing he expected was you sat atop the iron throne.

warnings: as this is a fic written by yours truly, SMUT, oral, masturbation, defiling of iron throne, exhibitionism

MDNI

“well, what do we have here, hm?” aemond couldn’t believe the sight before him.

his deep green riding jacket smothered your small figure. he knew you had on only your sheer, beige night slip underneath. but no, it’s where you sat that directed his attention.

your luscious silver curls and soft features were a stark contrast to the menacing, iron chair you seated yourself.

his wife possessed a teasing nature. it’s one of the reasons he adored you. he always indulged in your jests, delighting in your efforts to provoke a laugh from him.

though, you’d certainly outdone yourself on this night.

the act of anyone besides the king sitting on the throne was highly inappropriate, borderline treasonous.

following his brothers tragic accident, aemond had accepted role as prince regent. he was quite taken with his newfound role as ruler of the realm. the power, the authority he so desperately craved was now in the palm of his hand.

though, such authority didn’t seem to extend to his lady wife.

“warming my seat for me, are you ābrazȳrys?,” (wife) he teased, a smile etched on his face as he admired you from the bottom of the steps.

“pay mind to how you address me, my lord,” your eyes filled with mischief.

you felt his eyes drink in your appearance and you briefly felt a bit sheepish under his scrutiny.

suddenly feeling too exposed, you attempted to subtely adjust his jacket to cover your legs, the action not going unnoticed by your lord husband.

“forgive me, your grace,” he played along, bowing his head as he stood at the foot of the iron throne.

you cleared your throat, determined to maintain your regal persona. “i required your presence immediately. you have committed grave offenses this evening which cannot go unpunished.”

the feeling of sitting atop the icy chair sent a chill up your spine. the heady sensation of claiming yourself on the most coveted seat in the realm clouded your mind.

i can see why he enjoys this, you mused to yourself.

“may I ask which crime I am to answer for, your holiness?” aemond cocked his head, barely containing his smirk.

his bold little wife never failed to keep him on his toes.

“you arrived quite tardy to supper. even more so, you failed to greet me with a proper kiss upon your arrival. tsk, I believe I could have your head for this my lord.”

you felt yourself become more submerged in your role, any trepidations for your actions long gone.

with a bolt of confidence, you held his gaze while you slowly uncrossed your legs, revealing your bare center to him.

his eyes darkened at the sight of you, he could practically smell your arousal from where he stood.

so this is how we’re playing tonight, aemond felt himself stiffen in his breeches as he ascended a step toward you.

you may have started this game, but you both knew he would finish it.

“i’m deeply sorry, your grace. allow me to beg forgiveness for my wrong doings. anything you require.” his mind swirled with thoughts of taking you, perching you on his lap and filling your womb with seed on the throne.

you reveled in the predatory, lustful gaze of your husband. the most powerful man in the seven kingdoms at your mercy. or so you thought.

“i suppose there is a way to repent your crimes,” you reached for the first button and began to slowly release them one by one, revealing your hardened buds poking through your slip.

you might have been worried of someone else entering, but the euphoria of witnessing the effect you had on your husband clouded your better judgement.

unfastening the remaining button, you stood gracefully and let the fabric pool at your feet.

you were no targaryen. however aemond knew the fiery blood of the dragon coursed through your veins. no other lady of the court would play this dangerous game, would speak to him with such boldness.

he craved to taste you. he craved to grab at your soft flesh and indulge in the nectar between your legs.

the coolness of the metal seeped though your thin nightgown as you reclaimed your spot on the throne. your legs spread just wide enough you knew he could see the wetness seeping from your core.

daringly, your fingers floated down to your center. you began to rub circles on your clit, your lips parted as arousal fueled your fingers to continue.

he knew what you wanted, and was more than happy to oblige.

slowly and methodically, aemond approached you. meeting his lustful gaze, you watched as he lowered himself to his knees in front of you.

“may I, your grace?” he whispered, you could do nothing but nod as his fingers slowly ran up your exposed leg. his touch searing into your skin, you unconsciously spread your legs wider.

large hands roughly gripped the back of your knees, a low growl was all you heard before he dragged his warm, wet muscle through your dripping folds.

“gods,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt more arousal drip from your center and onto his devilish tongue.

“fuck you taste heavenly,” he drawled, suckling at your entrance, you gasped.

he set an unforgiving rhythm devouring your cunt.

lost in the throes of pleasure, your hands found purchase in his silver strands, tugging desperately whenever he applied pressure to your pearl.

if you weren’t disoriented by the assault on your cunny, you may have reddened at how quickly you could feel the coil in your belly about to snap.

“p-please my love. i’m close,” you begged, long forgetting the domineering facade you fabricated earlier.

fuck, you sound so pretty when you beg, his member hardened painfully watching your eyes fill with tears.

only sparing a moment away from your cunt, he commanded, “such a good girl for asking. go on, make a mess for me.”

with a final flick of his tongue, you cried out as you came undone. your body spasmed as the waves of your peak flowed through you.

soon, your body went limp and were close to falling back onto the swords behind you before you were scooped up by your husband.

draping his jacket over your frame, he quickly brought you to your shared chambers, making sure no eyes were present in the corridors.

lowering your body onto the bed, you were instantly met with fluffy blankets and you sighed in content.

expecting your husband to join you, you opened your eyes only to find him completely bare, looming over the bed. seeing him in all of his glory always seemed to stir something within you.

“i hope I am forgiven for my misdeeds from earlier?” you nodded.

he grinned and looked down to trace the patterns on the bed sheet, “do you think we are through, little wife? you didn’t think I would punish you for that little stunt you pulled?”

he grabbed your ankle and swiftly dragged you to the foot of the bed.

stunned by his sudden roughness, words escaped you as he grasped you by the chin and whispered “va ry izula, sir.”

(on all fours,now)

another mind dump of aemond, surprise surprise ;)

- alice

[plutoswritingplanet]

Taking What's Not Yours (Dracule Mihawk x Reader)

a/n: soooooo, there is this pirate warlooooord. basically, i've watched the live action show on Netflix and immediately had to commit a one shot.

Warnings: Pure Smut (i had to get it out of my system), Wall Donging, Use of Alcohol, Stealing, Plotting, Lollygagging, inappropriate use of that cunty cross necklace.

Summary: A misguided attempt at impressing your friend lands you in a very peculiar situation. (cross-posted on AO3)

   The bar buzzed with the energy of drunken people. Your throat still burned with the after-taste of the cheapest rum the establishment had to offer, and for a second you've become deeply worried about losing your eyesight, as faint notes of straight methanol registers in your brain. Then, the pleasant buzz hits your nerves like a suffocating blanket, and in one moment you sense all your troubles drifting away. And there has been quite a lot of troubles on your mind lately.

Mainly, the Marines, their presence an annoying nuisance. By no means were you a pirate, no. You searched for freedom in different ways, such as stealing as much, and as often as you could. Money was the driving force of your life, but you'd be lying, if you said it was the only pleasure you seek. The thrill of the chase, of finding that perfect little trinket you can grab, and your victim would be non the wiser. The euphoria of creating distractions in one place, so you can strike like a viper in another. It made your blood boil with excitement incomparable to anything else. 

On top of that, besides the occasional confrontation, the Marines simply couldn't identify you. All it took, was a bandana around the lower half of your face, and suddenly you were able to march into a bar, such as this, filled with Marines, and no one would notice. Your eyes fall onto a rather skinny one, the belt of his too big uniform is digging into his waist, betraying how little there actually is of him. He looks back at you, smiles, and joins a group of his friends at one of the tables. You reciprocate the smile with a glint in your eye. The poor bastard doesn't know it was you, who stole an antique photo of his grandma right from his breast pocket. 

In your defense, the small frame was made of gold. And damned pretty at that. It fetched you a pretty price too, one you were currently drinking away, waiting for your friend to join you in your efforts of landing under the table by the end of the night. 

You barely manage to go through one fourth of the bottle, when they arrive, smile on their face and hair wild from running through the streets. It all goes downhill from there, as stories and alcohol flow freely between the two of you. It's a welcomed distraction from the gray reality of life, a small ray of sunshine in this murky town. They tell you about the latest heist they've pulled, eyes sparkling in the dim light, as they recount a particularly risky part of their daring escape. You snort into your glass, shake your head.

- See, that's where we're different. - you counter, leaning back into your chair - For me, it's all about stealth. In and out, so they won't know when they've been robbed. 

Your friend giggles to themselves. The drink in their glass splashes slightly, as they place it forcefully on the table. 

- You really think you're that good, huh? - they challenge, and already, you can feel the tingling sensation of excitement at the tips of your fingers. 

- I know so. 

They furrow their brows, turning towards the crowd currently hounding the bartender. There's a mischievous smirk playing around on their lips, as they turn their attention back to you.

- So, if I were to choose any person here, and told you to steal from them unnoticed, you'd do it?

The absolute gall of this question. Of course, you would. Hell, you'd do it multiple times, until this whole bar was filled with people suddenly missing their belongings. Because nothing compared to the thrill of reaching into someone else's pocket unnoticed.

- You know what? - your eyes run across the gathered crowd, smirk playing around on your lips, as you've spotted your chosen victim. - See that guy in the black coat? The one with the big ass hat. I bet I can get that fancy necklace off of him, in like, three minutes tops. 

As you speak, your friend follows your gaze through the Marines, and the pirates, and all the in-betweens. But when their eyes finally land on your target, they freeze in their spot, before rather rudely grabbing your shirt at the collar. Then, so fast, the world starts to spin in front of your eyes, they yank you under the table. Your stomach lurches with protest at the sudden movement. You give your friend a confused shake of your head. 

- Do you have any idea, who you're talking about? - they whisper-yell, eyes wide and clearly terrified. 

- What, about the hat guy?

Apparently you've said it too loud, because your friend nearly launches themselves at you. 

- That's Dracule fucking Mihawk.

From the way they've said the man's name, you gather, it should be at least familiar to you. Unfortunately, you can't say you know much of the world outside of the town, so your confused expression deepens. 

- He's like, the biggest deal - Your friend continues, their grip on your shirt loosening slightly - Like, children read stories about him and shit.

- I didn't - you shrug, before rising slightly up, so you can peek from above the table. 

The hat man has turned his back to you, his stature rather impressing, as he towers over everyone in the establishment. Your eyes follow the dark lapels of his coat, thief senses greedily gliding over the handle of his sword secured to his back. It's reminiscent of a cross, with gigantic, shiny gems nearly tempting you to do something unwise. Your friend tugs you back down, and your chin scratches on the rough surface of the table.

- What is he, like, a missionary? - you ask, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

- What?

- You know, the cross and all that...

- What kind of missionaries have you been seeing?

Fair point, you think, before risking another peek, against your friend's efforts to pull you down.

 The man, Mihawk, takes a long swing from a flagon filled with something you can't really identify. You watch almost greedily, as his Adam's apple moves, when he swallows his drink. Then, your eyes drift to the necklace, nestled on his exposed chest. Gold, real gold, you can see it from here. Another cross, albeit, much simpler, than what he had on his back. A week of drinks, and fancy ones at that flash before your eyes. 

- Don't even think about it - your friend warns, finally giving up, and letting go of your shirt. 

Your eyes stay fixated on your prize. If you could just see where the clasp of the necklace is...

- Think about what...? - your voice betrays you, and you wet your lips with your tongue in concentration.

- He'll kill you - your friend warns - Like, actually kill you. This is not a man you should fuck with.

At that, you finally tear away, your eyes meeting your friends, a sea of mischief swirling in them.

- Who said anything about fucking? - you say with a wink, and before your friend can say anything else, you rise from your seat.

Taking the half-empty bottle of rum in one, smooth movement, you begin to make your way towards the bar, adding a stumble and a drunken giggle for good measure. The previous ungodly ammounts of liquor circulating your body definitely help with the impression, but you're pleasantly surprised, that your head stays relatively clear. Although, if your target is truly as powerful and dangerous, as your friend makes him out to be, then perhaps you really lost your mind for good. Best not to dwell on it though. 

The man barely spares you a glance, as you collide with the bar right next to him, arm brushing against his in a deliberate movement. You make sure to press your chest against the countertop, before waving at the bartender a bit too enthusiastically. The leftover liquor in your bottle sloshes out, landing straight onto the man's chest and lap. At that, he finally moves, annoyance clear in his rigid posture. Traces of liquid fall all the way from his collarbones to the belt buckle of his trousers.  

The truly magnificent performance of a drunken, apologetic girl you gave at that moment, would ensure you the entry to the most prestigious acting schools. Your eyes widen comically, as you follow the trajectory of your drink. He barely flinches, as his entire front becomes covered in alcohol, but he does react, as soon as you start apologizing, a lot, your voice quivering as if you're about to burst out crying. 

Don't look up, you remind yourself, as your body moves closer to his. You pull down the sleeve of your shirt and reach towards him, trying to dry some of the liquor off his skin. For the split second you manage to make contact, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. He's incredibly warm, his skin pulled taut against prominent muscles. Then, your sleeve reaches the golden necklace.

His arm immediately shoots out, grabbing you by the wrist and nearly shoving you off. It was enough, though. That short moment of contact revealed more than you've bargained for.  

- Leave - you truly flinch at the sound of his gravely voice, no acting needed - You've embarrassed yourself quite enough, woman.

Your head nods fervently, hair jumping around your face. He releases your wrist, and you mutter another string of "I'm so sorry, sir". Then, you throw in a sniffle, for good measure, but your treacherous eyes drift upwards, desperate to catch a glimpse of the man's face, as you're only inches from him. Yellow envelops you in an instant, a piercing, unrelenting gaze, which breaks through all your defenses. Your gaze hardens in an instant, challenge rising in your posture like its second nature. One of the man's prominent eyebrows shoot upwards ever so slightly, and you know it's your time to exit the stage. 

So you bow your head again and slip past him as quickly, as you physically can. His golden gaze follows you, the feeling of his eyes at the back of your neck makes your shoulders tense. With a stumble, this one not rehearsed, you push past the gathered patrons, until you reach the doors to the restrooms, nearly falling through them, in your haste to remove yourself from this strange situation. 

Your body collides with the row of basins, as you lean forward to try and catch your breath. Your heart is thrumming in your chest, the sound of blood rushing through your ears deafening. It's fear, you're aware. You've never been so close to being exposed, no one has ever seen straight through you, and so quickly at that. Chills run the length of your spine with such force you physically cringe. 

And then, something else starts to brew in the pit of your stomach. Something that starts at the tips of your fingers, spreading upwards, until it settles in your chest. The magnetic pull of excitement, the danger of a new challenge. Your brain feels hot inside your skull, as you gather all the information you managed to pull out. 

The necklace is heavy, but strangely, not as heavy, as solid gold would be. The clasp is sturdy, but small. You could feel it, with how the strap tightened, when you pulled at it. And one more thing. As you tried to "dry" it, the body of the necklace shifted slightly, so you could see the clasp peeking over the man's shoulder. You were almost entirely sure it was one of those old-timey ones. The one, where two halves fit together, incredibly easy to open. 

God, you really are going to pull this off. You hype yourself up, in front of the mirror, jumping from leg to leg, like a sportsman ready to fight for their team. Easy. Quiet. In and out. You've done it a thousand times, why would this one be different? After this rather pathetic pep talk, you make up your mind. Splashing some water onto your face, you give yourself one last look in the mirror, determination filling your eyes to the brim. 

And then, you're out, the door to the bathroom swings behind you, as you easily blend into the crowd of rowdy patrons. He's almost impossible to miss amongst the ruckus, with his straight posture and that damned hat. There is a plan forming in your head, as you stalk towards him. The unfortunate waiter, with a tray filled with tall beer glasses walks towards you, and with ease, you slide your leg to the side, making him trip right onto the floor. 

It creates enough of a distraction for you to smoothly move behind your target, and as he looks over at the screaming crowd, you hand makes its way behind the collar of his coat. With the warmth of his skin just under your fingertips, you touch the clasp of the necklace. It unravels immediately, sliding off of his neck, where, just out of his vision, your other hand waits. The cross lands in your palm just as the man realizes what is happening.

His entire body jerks in your direction, large hands immediately flying towards the gigantic sword on his back. Thankfully, you're faster. Fingers squeeze around the smaller cross, and suddenly all pretense is gone, as you bolt back to the restrooms. You don't stop to check if the man is pursuing you, a flurry of emotions chasing you out of the establishment. Excitement, yes, of course, but mostly impossible to explain fear. In that moment you know, you can't get caught if you want your life to continue. 

So, you barrel through the doors to the restroom and immediately jump onto one of the basins. Your hands make quick work opening the small window just below the ceiling, its lock coming undone under the prying of your lockpick. Night air floods the bathroom with the crisp smell of the harbour. Putting all your concentration into athletics, you jump through the small opening, squeezing through. Your shirt catches onto the lock and tears with the force of your body. You land on your face, right into the cobbled street below.  Only then do you risk taking the time, and looking around, eyes scanning the dark, as your breath quickens. 

Nothing. A dog is barking somewhere, and even from the outside you can hear the sounds of the patrons screaming over each other. For a split second you wonder, if one of the voices belongs to your target, but decide against it. He didn't seem the type to raise his voice. Perhaps that was one of the things, which unsettled you about him. 

Tossing the necklace a couple of times in your hand, you observe as the gold shines in the light coming from the lanterns strung out around the city. There, right under the lower half of the cross, you could see a tiny groove. As if it was meant to be unscrewed or something of the sort. Deciding against hanging around in the ark alley right outside the bar, you put the necklace around your neck.

You manage to take about five steps, before some force grabs onto the back of your shirt. A hand twists itself into the torn material, and yanks you back so fast, and so hard, you completely loose balance. The brick wall of the lower part of the bar greets you with sharp pain, the impact knocking the wind out of your lungs. Stars swim in front of your eyes and your stomach twists and turns, as a sudden wave of nausea overcomes you. 

Then, all you see is yellow. 

He's here, arm pressed right under your chin with unwavering strength, his golden eyes bearing into you, watching you struggle against him. The smell of smoke, seawater and wine engulfs you whole, and suddenly the weight of the stolen necklace on your chest becomes unbearable. It's getting harder and harder to breathe. If you thought you were scared of the strange man before, now you're downright terrified. 

- Not many people would dare to steal from me - his voice is steady, almost bored, but your ears pick up on the subtle tone of curiosity - Let alone do so successfully.

Perhaps it's the alcohol in your system, or perhaps your ego has grown much too big, but you almost feel as if the man is impressed. 

- Tell me, what is your name? - his arm digs a bit further into your skin before retracting ever so slightly, not enough to choke you, but enough to remind you, that he could do so very easily. 

Your tongue darts out to wet you lips, and you will yourself to sound even a fraction less scared than you truly felt.

- I'm nobody - you whisper fervently - I'm nothing. It was a stupid joke, I'm so sorry.

His eyes scan your face, taking in your disheveled hair, the way your eyebrows scrunch together, the way your lips tremble. His gaze slides further down to your panicked pulse running rampant, catching slightly at your heaving chest, before snapping back up. Freezing chills run up and down your body, and your legs kick out slightly, trying to find better footing, to regain some control over the situation. He gives you no such chance, as his arm pushes your neck further into the wall, and as your breath leaves you, your body starts to struggle. 

- Nobody. Nothing. And yet you've managed to steal from me - something akin to subdued mirth flashes in his golden irises - If only for a moment. 

His other hand rises and your heart stops in your chest, as you feel the tips of his fingers tracing the line of the necklace, from the juncture between your neck and your arm, sliding lower. There is no mistaking the small gasp leaving your lips, when he reaches the heavy cross nestled right on top of your breasts. He taps the goden piece once, twice, before grasping it firmly and giving it a hard yank. The clasp at the back digs painfully into your skin before it gives out, snapping and falling right into his hand. 

- You're a curious little thief - his voice lowers, as he inclines his head to look at you closer - For that reason, I'll let you live, this one time. The world needs some chaos, after all.  

You expect him to move away, give you space to breathe and disapear into the night. Yet, none of you make a move. Your body stays pinned to the wall, the bricks spreading cold throughout your back. He never retreats, standing firmly in his place, as his arm still presses itself into the crook of your neck. Finally, you risk enough to get a good look at him, from the silky black hair, the perfectly trimmed facial hair and the elegant dip of his collar bones. And, oh, his pupils are dilated. For the first time, you discover a change in his unrelenting gaze. 

The gold retracts, giving way to the swallowing blackness of his pupil, as his eyebrows furrow in confusion at the situation at hand. You'd be confused too, if you didn't feel the tell-tale buzzing forming in your guts, low in your stomach. Your tongue darts out again, wetting your lips, and with undeniable satisfaction you watch his gaze flicker downwards. 

- Is there something else you want? - his eyes snap back up at the husky tone of your voice, and you give him just a tiny ghost of a smirk.

He recoils immediately, albeit, never taking the arm off of your body.

- I am not some teenage boy who can't control his urges - he sounds almost offended, as he straightens himself, and fixes you with a stern glare. 

Too bad. His previous slip-up has already filled your head with devious ideas, which in turn, sparked a sudden flame of confidence. So, with a self-assured smile, you lean back, finally finding your footing, only to raise one of your legs, purposefully running your calf the length of his thigh. His breath hitches ever so slightly, evident more by the movement of his Adam's apple, than any sound. Then, you reach your prize, your knee knocking into something that could only be described as a sizeable erection.

- My research says otherwise, sir. - you counter with a pointed look, and the man before you freezes in his spot. 

Time seems to slow down and stretch like taffy, as the man continues to stare at you, thoughts running through his head. Oh, how much you'd give to know them all. Will he kill you, you wonder as your eyes dart around the small creases forming on his forehead. Will he kiss you, his lips are parted and invitingly plush. Will there be more, your eyes follow the lines of muscles exposed under his unbuttoned coat. 

At first you don't even notice, when he had taken his arm back. That is until you feel him take a firm grab of the back of your head, gathering the roots of your hair in his grasp. There is no denying the choked whine that escapes you, as he cranes your head back, nor is there a point denying the groan he gives out at your reaction. 

An unspoken understanding blooms between the two of you, both of you suddenly knowing exactly how this encounter will end. For your part, you were more than excited, breathing heavily, as your mind became foggy from the feeling of his fingers in your hair. And if his darkened eyes and slight blush dusting the highest points of his cheekbones were any indication, you seemed to have similar effect on the man. 

- For all the research you seem to be doing - your brain feels hot and heavy in your skull, as you try to shift your focus onto his words, and not the way his lips curled into something akin of a smirk - There's one thing you didn't bother to check, did you?

All you can do is stare at him blankly. his other hand starts to toy with the necklace, turning it in his palm. 

- Have you checked, if my necklace is made of gold? - he asks matter-of-factly, tilting his head to the side. 

Your mouth opens and closes, no words coming out, as you continue to stare with growing confusion. Then, a glint of a golden cross catches your attention, as the man moves it higher for you to see. 

- Did you check it? - he accentuates his words, and you shiver under his intense gaze.

You shake your head no, and your neck feels as if it's made of lead.

- Use your words, thief.

- No

You don't recognize your voice, so meek and small. 

Then, all thoughts leave your head, because he lifts the lover tip of the cross and places it on top of your lower lip, pressing slightly, and watching with fascination as the cold metal creates a small indent in the plush flesh. 

- Check it.

Again, your brain seems to be moving in slow motion, but when it catches on, a glint of mischief swirls in your eyes. You open your mouth, let the necklace land on your lower teeth, and then, craning your neck, you bite down, like a good thief that you are. 

It's gold alright. Albeit, the part currently between your teeth seems to be hollowed out. Your brows knit for a second, as this new information registers in your mind. So you were right before, the small indent is meant to separate one piece of the necklace from the other. 

With a slowly blooming smirk, you let your tongue dart out swirling over the metal. The man's eyes widen ever so slightly, and he pulls back at the necklace. With some fight, you let it go, but not before giving it another lick, this one much more suggestive and pointed. 

- You're a devil of a woman - Mihawk breathes, before untangling his other hand from your hair. 

Both hands now, he grips the necklace, and your mouth runs dry at the sight of his fingers smearing your saliva onto the metal. And then he pulls. Your heartbeat momentarily quickens, as your eyes register another form of metal glistening in the dim light. 

A knife. Small but incredibly sharp, your body starts to shiver but it's not out of fear. He drops the other part of the necklace into his pocket, and gathers the front of your shirt into a tight grip. Your breath hitches, as you feel the tip of the knife slide up under your clothes. It scratches a path from your navel, up to your collarbones, and as the material bunches, the man suddenly yanks the blade upwards. Your entire body jumps from the wall, and your squeak of surprise is accompanied by the loud tearing of your shirt's material. 

You fall back against the bricks, and Mihawk leans onto his heels as if he's appreciating an art piece.

- Now we match - you manage to breathe out.

He humms, deep in his chest, and as suddenly as he just tore your clothes off, he dives towards you, open mouth landing right between your breasts.

The moan he wretches from you would be embarrassing if you could only bring yourself to care. But you can't, not when his hot tongue traces patterns all across your stomach, stopping to swirl around each one of your nipples. Like a man starved, he drinks you in, hands pushing and pulling against your hips in a rythmn, that feels more and more like a promise of what's to come. 

Your hands flail at your sides, desperate to find any sort of purchase. Fingernails scarpe against the bricked wall, as Mihawk's stubble tickles a path from your collar bones and up your throat, stopping for a moment, to give a few nips to the skin just below your ear. Another whine is wrenched from you, as the man places an open mouthed kiss to the scrape your previous encounter with the surface of the table has left on your skin. Then, finally, he pulls back for just a moment, drinking in the sight of your heaving chest and the redness which has engulfed your entire face.

- Beautiful - he concludes in the same, steady tone, as if he's stating an obvious fact, not paying a compliment.

It works on you all the same, and with a gasp, you lurch forward, your lips forcefully colliding with his. The kiss is deep and filled with passion you're not sure you've ever felt in your entire life. As his mouth and tongue work the insides of yours, you feel him slide his hand from your hips to the front, fingers pulling with urgency at the laces of your breeches. You can only pray, that there's no one taking a midnight stroll through the streets, as another loud moan escapes you. He does his best to swallow it, but something tells you he takes immense pride in the reactions you give him, as his efforts at keeping you quiet are haphazard at best.

Then, after finally winning the battle with your lacing, his hand pushes itself into your undergarments. Your head smacks back against the wall, when he begins to touch you where you need him the most. Expert fingers find your bundle of nerves in an instant, but before you get too carried away, one of your arms encircles his wrist.

Mihawk tilts his head, an unspoken question clear in his golden gaze.

- No time - you pant out, and for a moment worry, he doesn't quite register your words, with the way his focus shifts immediately to your swollen lips - No time, just... Just fuck me, Mihawk.

That seems to reach him just fine, because as soon as the words leave you, his arms shoot out towards his pants. He makes quick work of the massive belt buckle, and with impatient hands yanks his erection out of his underwear. You'd lie, if you said the view didn't worry you just a little bit. But excitement was your drug of choice, and right now you felt as if you could explode at any given moment. With shaky hands, you try to shimmy out of your pants. Seeing your rather clumsy efforts, Mihawk stops you. 

With half-lidded eyes you watch him kneel down in front of you, gently pulling your breeches down, before lifting each of your feet, so you could step out of them. 

- I think I like seeing you like this - you comment, as he leans forward to kiss the space under your right knee. 

- The view from here is also quite spectacular - he counters, kissing up your thigh and making you gasp, as his stubble presses into the mound of flesh just below your stomach. 

Still, there is no time, so you reach down towards his shoulder, and pull him up. 

- Please - you whisper against his lips, and who is he, to deny a lady in need. 

Lifting one of your legs in a tight grip, finally, his hips snap up, filling you to the brim. Your muscles tense, as you try to accommodate his size. To his credit, he stays still, face pressed into the crook of your neck, where you can feel his strained breath. Finally, you let yourself relax. tapping him on the shoulder, to let him know he can continue. 

And continue he does, slowly at first, dragging your body from the wall every time he retracts, only to come back in with an agonizing pace. You don't really know who's more frustrated at that point, because as soon, as you try to wriggle your hips more, to force him to pick up the pace, all resolve seems to dissapear. His hand grips your thigh even harder, enough to leave a reminder for the later days. The other tangles itself into your hair, pulling at the strands. And then he truly puts in work, hips snapping in a punishing pace that makes your back scrape against the brick wall. You hide your face in his coat, inhaling his scent and praying that the thick material will be sufficient at muffling your moans of pleasure. 

There's pressure, building steadily in your guts, and it doesn't take you long, to feel the band snap somewhere deep inside you. Your muscles tense and your eyes roll back, as you begin to shudder in his grasp, knees giving out completely, so only his own strength is saving you from colliding with the floor. Soon, he follows with a low grunt, nearly toppling over, when his own release hits him. 

His arm holds you close to him, as he uses the other one to steady himself against the wall. Both of you are panting heavily, none of you ready to move just yet. You rest your cheek against his chest, and feel him press his face to the top of your head, inhaling your scent as if this wasn't just a quick dalliance in a dark alley. 

- You should get back to your friend - Mihawk's voice is muffled by your hair - They must be dreading all the atrocities I could've bestowed upon you.

You laugh breathlessly, finally pushing him back and appreciating the flush on his cheeks, and the way his hair has flown out of place from under that impressive hat.

- Yes, those atrocities have been very great indeed. 

***

Your friend sits alone at the same table you've left them. Their head is hidden in their hands, and three empty bottles litter the space before them. It seems they have already started to mourn your untimely death. 

The inside of the bar has quieted down, as the closing hours began to loom over the patrons, a few stragglers still hanging around the bar, sowly finishing their respective drinks. 

Unceremoniously, you sit down right in front of your friend, wincing ever so slightly at the discomfort still lingering in your muscles, kicking their leg under the table and watching them nearly jump out of their seat with fright. 

- You... - their eyes have a difficulty focusing on your face, but when they do, it's like the heavens have opened before them. - You're alive!

Your eyes are glowing, and your face is still blushed from your previous encounter. You lean forward with a brilliant smile, hands slapping onto the wooden table.

- So - you can't help but laugh - About fucking with him...

[touyasdoll]

After Class

pairing: professor!Gojo x student!reader (fem)

word count: 1.8k

warnings: inappropriate power dynamics, professor kink, power play, cum eating, oral (f!receiving), reader is wearing a thong and a skirt, semi public sex, rough sex, let me know if I missed any

notes: turns out I can still write smut, I think. hope you enjoy <3

"My next class is in 20 minutes, gorgeous," Satoru coos in your ear, grinding the tent in his slacks against your thinly clad pussy, only concealed by the fabric of your cotton thong beneath your skirt.

"You should hurry up and fuck me then already. I don't wanna keep you, professor," you purr, glancing back at him over your shoulder as you drop your hips back.

A moan leaves your lungs as you grind on his length just right, sending a shiver along your spine as your soaked cunt clenches around nothing.

He does love to tease, but he doesn't have the luxury of time today and he knows it. He's also so hard that it's beginning to hurt and the noises coming from you only make it worse.

"I want to keep you though," he whispers smoothly as he drapes himself across your back, lowering himself on his long arms to brush his lips against the shell of your ear.

He nips at it, reaching down to free himself from his pants before he flips your skirt up and hooks a finger into the thin strip of cotton separating him from what he's after.

Should he be fucking a student? No.

Does he care when his cock is buried inside you though? Also no.

"M'all yours for the next 19 minutes, baby. Make 'em count," you say as you reach over to grab onto the edge of the desk as you shake your ass.

"You're gonna be mine for a lot longer, princess," he replies as he glides the head of his dick against your folds, letting your juices soak the tip before he slowly sinks inside of you.

A groan pulls from him as your breathless gasp echoes back at your from the surface of the large wooden desk. He's so big it's mind numbing. Even when he takes his time.

"Fuck, Satoru," you breathe his name out, whimpering when he starts to move.

He slowly draws his hips back, the motion occuring in time with the handsome smirk spreading across his face, which only portrays a fraction of the insanity this man is able to convey.

"I'd love to hear you say my name when I'm not inside you. It sounds so good on your tongue," he says as he stands tall and grabs your hips, rolling his own at a steady pace.

"It'd probably make me hard anyway," he continues as he suddenly picks up the tempo, gripping your hips hard enough to threaten to leave bruises in the wake of his long fingers as his thrusts start to jostle your entire frame.

You cry out, wholly overwhelmed by the sensations flooding your entire body. It's easy to forget just how good it feels when you're with him until you find yourself here again, drowning in him while his cock drowns in you.

You grip the edge of the desk tighter, clinging to it as the two of you both struggle not to grow too loud for fear of alerting someone passing by in the hall to your illicit activities.

"Holy shit, you feel so fucking good, baby," he growls through grit teeth, colliding with you at an almost unnatural pace as his cock grows impossibly harder inside of you. "So tight. S'like your pussy doesn't wanna let me go."

You wish you could respond, but you can't. Not with the way it feels like he's threatening to puncture your lungs with every unforgiving shift of his hips. It's all you can do to hang on while the pressure inside of you grows with each passing second.

You do respond with a cry, one of pure pleasure. Your nails press hard into the wood, clutching despertely like it's your only tether to this realm, because it is. The euphoria coursing through you, promising that it will overcome you, is so all encompassing that it nearly blinds you; it strikes you dumb.

He looks down, committing to memory the glorious sight of his cock plunging in and out of you, punishing your cunt. His and his only. You are his and, in this moment, you both know it, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

He puts his all into giving you what you want, what he knows that you need, driving himself into you with every ounce of strength that he has, spurred on by the need to claim you, even though he already has you right where he wants you. Pliant and accepting beneath him.

"Need you to cum for me, gorgeous. Can you do that?" he asks, his voice much more calm than his body feels as every inch of him grows taut, threatening to snap if pulled any tighter.

You nod, you think you do, at least. Everything is rendered inconsequential as something inside you explodes, making you see stars even when your eyes roll back inside of your head.

He wraps a hand around your mouth, presesing it tight over your face to muffle the feral scream that pours from you. You couldn't stop it if you tried, not if your life depended on it.

"That's it. That's fucking it, baby," he mutters a second before his own end comes to claim him, stealing all of the breath from his lungs and inspiring his body to move on it's own.

His hips cast into yours as his seed spills into your womb, filling you completely as you whine and readily accept it, pushing yourself up with what strength you have left in your body to thrust your hips back to meet his own, drawing out his pleasure as he draws out yours.

"Satoru," you breathe out, sighing in ecstasy and your body gives out, thumping onto the desk while his motions stutter and then still.

He drapes himself over you, kissing along the back of your neck to nip at your flesh, to have one last taste of you before he reluctantly parts his form from yours, slipping out of you and sending a sinful mixture of both of your essences dripping onto the floor.

"You are going to be the death of me," he murmurs into your ear, kising the side of your face.

"I could say the same," you sigh, eyes heavy and body seemingly lifeless as you try to will your legs to move, but it's useless with every neuron inside you still firing and him lazily draped across your back.

"At least we'll go together," he muses, his lips quirking into a smile as he nips your ear one last time, sending a shiver down your spine before he stands tall to tuck himself back into his pants.

You push yoursself up once you've recovered, tilting your head to one side as you look him over and hop up onto the desk.

"Eat it," you command cooly, looking him straight in his baby blue eyes that have reduced you to nothing time and time again.

"What?" He quirks a brow, looking you over.

"Eat your cum out of my cunt, Satoru," you demand again as you lay back on your elbows and part your legs, displaying the mixture of you and him trapped between your thighs, leaking out of you.

He looks down, eyes widening slightly before he flashes you that smirk that never fail to make your knees weak and sinks down to his own.

His hands come up to hold onto your thighs, fingers running aong your still sensitive skin as his breath fans your core before he dives in, ice blue eyes locked with yours.

You gasp, your hand flying into his snow white locks to tug gently as his eyes flutter and falls closed while he devours you. His tongue laps at your pussy, greedily tasting the concoction of your escapades.

"Fuck," he murmurs into you, sucking on your clit just to smirk when you whine.

He does as you bid him, tasting the salt of his own design and the sweetness of you, letting it bathe his tongue as he cleans you. Rids you of the evidence of the sin you both committed so willingly, but he doesn't stop.

He doesn't stop even as your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging harshly at the stark white tresses that have been turned wild by your touch. If anything, he laps more incessantly at your center, sending you careening off into an abyss that you haven't seen before. That you haven't had the intene pleasure of seeing until he brought you there and tosses you over that precipice.

You howl and he reaches up, clamping his hand down over your mouth as your hips grind desperately against his face. He groans against your folds before he wreches himself away to stand up and claim your mouth, as if he hadn't taken enough already.

You kiss him back, tasting yourself on his tongue as his slides against yours, exploring your mouth without shame, because that was left at the door when you two were together. There was no place for it.

The handle on the door jiggles, stirring both of you as your heads whip towards the door nearest the front of the room.

"Fuck," you hiss, trying to collect your senses as you push him off and stand up, adjusting your panties and your skirt.

"Fucking early birds," he mutters as he wipes his chin, staining the sleeve of his shirt with your juices.

You move to grab your bag and he follows you, his long legs allowing him to keep up even with your head start.

He catches your wrist and you find yourself bumping into his imposing frame. As lean as he looks, it's all muscle. All height, towering over you as he bends down, catching your jaw with his other hand as he kisses you again.

You get lost in it, the knocking on the door fades away as you savor his taste—your taste—again.

"I'll be seeing you, beautiful," he says softly, a dangerous glint in his eye as he gives your hand a squeeze and lets you go.

You flash him a smile and grab your things as you chew on your lip, making for the door towards the back as he heads for the one at the front.

With one last longing glance, the both of you turn the respective handles in your grasp and you slip out of the room, retreating into the hallway to carry on with your day, traces of him lingering on your skin. In your soul, where he now resides.

thank you for reading! likes, reblog, and comments are all greatly appreciated ❤️

[americanwh0rerstory]

KINKTOBER DAY SEVEN

inappropriate use of mutation - quicksilver

stalker!peter maximoff x f!reader

SUMMARY: after months of obsession, he finally claims what he saw as ‘his’

CONTENT WARNING: SLIGHT NONCON, drugs (weed), sorta stalking? p in v, hair pulling

A/N: I AM SORRY FOR THE DELAY. it unfortunately will happen sometimes but i’ll post the fics asap <3

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT BELOW. CONSUME AT OWN RISK

Peter wasn’t controlling, he was far from it. but whenever he thought of Y/N he found that he couldn’t help but feel that way. he wanted you all to himself, he wanted you to be his.

he couldn’t help but feel jealous whenever he saw you talking to some of the other guys around the school, however he wouldn’t know that if he wasn’t following from a distance. he always thought of it as ‘protecting’ you, just incase anything happened but deep down he knew what he was doing

he craved those brief moments of eye contact, the way you obliviously smiled and said hi to him whenever he made his presence known to you. he always wondered what it was that he saw in your eyes, so innocent yet he could see that hint of desire beneath the surface; he had to act on it

“sooo… wanna go out one time?” peter blurred out when you greeted him, his lips moving faster than his brain. when you accepted a grin overtook his face, his plan truly was coming together with you being completely oblivious

the date went smoothly: he used his mutation to take you wherever you wanted to go, he made the date as perfect as possible for you. it wasn’t about his enjoyment, it was all about yours.

he brought you back to his place, sharing a joint with you whilst you sat perfectly on his lap. he chose a strain of weed he knew to be an aphrodisiac, just wanting to boost his chances of you giving him that ‘yes’. he had you sat on his lap, which you happy obliged with, whilst the two of you shared a joint.

“i can tell you want it y’know” peter murmurs softly, one hand gently trailing up your thigh whilst his arm snakes around your waist. you went to protest, not wanting to give away your feelings but you was cut off by his cocky and amused scoff “don’t deny it, i can feel you dripping through my jeans”

his hand snuck under your skirt as he spoke, rubbing small circles on your clit through the dampening cotton of your panties, causing your breathing to become heavier and your eyes glazing over with lust. the effects of the weed were hitting you hard,

he gently tugged your panties to the side, the sudden chill hitting your slit caused you to shiver against him. he smirked and slowly began to push his index finger into your tight hole, his middle finger soon following

“i know you like it” he mumbled, his warm breath hitting your ear. he wasn’t wrong though, your body betrayed you and only made you even wetter around his fingers. he scissored them back and forth within you; stretching you out and scoffing with amusement whenever you let out one of your ‘cute little moans’ as he’d call it

he kept fingering you, using his mutation to turn his hand into a human vibrator and bring you just to the brink of orgasm before pulling out. he bent you over the foot of his bed, making sure you could see your fucked out face in his mirror headboard whilst he slid into you and resumed the fast pace

“c’mon babygirl, it’s me. thought you’d know it’ll be fast” peter taunted as he pulled your hair, yanking your head back whilst he mercilessly pounded into you from behind; forcing your back into an arch. his mutation made his movements so fast you couldn’t tell whether he was pumping in or out of you anymore

your walls squeezed around his dick which caused him to let out a whine of pleasure, blabbering curses of euphoria. he threw his head back in satisfaction, letting out shamelessly loud and lewd moans which coincided with your own pleasure filled mewls.

his thrusts remained fast but occasionally grew sloppy as he neared the edge, his tip ramming against your cervix with each thrust that only brought you closer too, until your joint orgasm

white-hot flushes of pleasure crashed over you in waves, your eyes squeezing shut as tears of satisfaction began to prick in your tear ducts. you felt the warm ropes of his milky seed spurt into you and paint your insides white.

peter felt that intense euphoria too, low moans escaped his lips whilst occasionally letting your name spill. he felt his release pump out of his tip and into you, satisfying his desire to claim you which he had felt for so so long

“youre mine now, babycakes” he grinned before planting a kiss to your forehead “if you want to be, that is” he said despite already knowing the answer

A/N: once again i’m sorry for the delay, i hope this was worth it <3

[poweringthroughthis]

for you, hyung | eric sohn

nsfw, mature content, mdni

desc: (name) always adored Eric as his dongsaeng, but Eric was getting tired of being babied all the time.

OR

(name) starts seeing his boyfriend in a different light since he's been hitting the gym lately.

warnings: muscle kink, strength kink(?), nipple play, dirty talk, oral s*x

(name) and Eric had been dating for a while now. And although their love life was great, (name) felt there was something missing. Eric was always sweet to him. The younger had heart eyes every time he looked at (name), full of adoration for the older. (name) too, saw Eric as a cute guy who made his heart flutter with his aegyo aimed at pleasing the older.

And while (name) was deeply fond of Eric being smitten with him, he had been bothered lately. Eric's hard work at the gym had been clearly showing on his body. His muscles were much more defined, the toned abs feeling rock hard under his touch as Eric excitedly showed him his progress regularly.

The door to their shared apartment opened and (name) glanced towards the entrance. There, with his back turned to him, stood Eric removing his shoes at the doorstep. The inappropriate thoughts began flooding back to him.

Eric's broad back made him want to run his hands all over the firm mass as he imagined what they would look like while Eric hoisted (name) up by his legs, going in and out of him, with his core muscles tightened and his face contorted into a manly grunt.

damn, and just like that (name) was horny. he looked back up again at his transformed boyfriend. who had recently gone from fluff ball to full-on macho man. Eric's biceps bulged through the thin fabric of his shirt as it clung tightly to his muscled body.

he was so aroused by the sight that he wanted nothing more than Eric to manhandle him with those big, veiny hands as he pounded into (name)'s hole, all while spewing filthy words to him.

Seeing his boyfriend unbelievably horny as he walked towards the couch, Eric granted his wish as flexed his clothed arm muscles in (name)'s face, eliciting a howl of pleasure from him that made Eric chuckle in the back of his mind.

Seeing his boyfriend so desperate, so needy for him, was the biggest boost to Eric's ego. He always took pride in being the desirable boyfriend for (name).

"I want to feel you, Eric." (name) squeaked, "And I want it now!"

" So what are you waiting for, little boy?"

Eric's sexual desires had been building all day, just as (name)'s had been about a week ago. Eric groaned seductively, as his caged taunting voice simmered.

Eric grabbed (name)'s ass playfully and moaned as he ran his hands up his legs.

He didn't even try to hide the dirty imagery he spoke of; he was fully ready to die from his impending, inevitable death.

Eric growled and harshly groped his boyfriend's chest, instantly leaving a pink hue over the pale skin and a yelp of plain and pleasure from (name).

"You want it that  bad , huh? Hope you don't have any plans because you won't be able to open, let alone talk with that filthy little mouth of yours by the time I'm done with you."

(name) let out a whimper of extreme stimulation at his boyfriend's dirty words. It turned him on to no end.

He literally tore off (name)'s dress shirt off of him, running his hands all over the older's body roughly. (name) smashed their lips together, wrapping his arms around Eric's neck.

Eric was sweaty since he had recently come back from a rigorous workout, making the clothes stick even tighter to him. He took off his jacket, (name) moaning at the sight of beads of sweat present on his toned body, giving off a musky scent.

Eric grabbed both of (name)'s hands with his own and slapped them on his rock-hard pecs. He made (name) slide his hands downwards, making him trace each and every muscle on his upper body that he had worked so hard for , the post-workout pump soaring high in the younger.

(name) was in euphoria at that moment. He had fantasized about worshipping those muscles for days, and he was finally living his wild dream right now.

Open your little mouth. I'm going to fuck it in. Now!"

(name) only did as he was told, though he was extremely nervous. He was unsure if he would be able to keep Eric's thick, hard cock down his throat. He closed his eyes as Eric guided his hips forward, his tongue darting out of his mouth.

Eric started off slowly, in a steady rhythm, though he knew (name) would tire out quickly. He slammed his hips into the older's face, and finally (name) started to gag as Eric started fucking his mouth harder.

"Suck it harder! Harder! Suck it! Suck it!"

(name) forced his jaw back as hard as he could, his head bobbing up and down on Eric's penis. Eric fucked his mouth for almost a full minute before he felt his balls start to spasm and start filling up with hot cum.

Eric cried out as he came, thrusting his hips once again. His cock twitched and a stream of his white hot cum blasted out of his dick and into (name)'s mouth. he gasped at the hot load, eagerly trying to swallow it as fast as he could, though the suddenness of it was overwhelming.

Eric's cock slipped out and he spewed a second, smaller stream into his mouth. Eric came so much he had nothing left to cum into (name)'s mouth anymore, forcing him to lick up every drop he could find in his mouth.

Eric lifted (name) up by his chest, the sheer strength displayed in the action sending his boyfriend over the edge of pleasure. the idea of being groped and lifted so easily by his man got (name) off. Eric continued to fondle his chest, harshly pinching his nipples until they were red and perked up. He firmly massaged (name)'s breast with both of his hands, putting his face between them and sucking at the soft flesh.

Meanwhile. all the older could do was let out cries of euphoric pleasures as a string of curses left his mouth. Eager to get him off, Eric simultaneously began pumping (name)'s length , the older running his hands all over that majestic back.

His breath quickening, (name) lost the strength to keep up as he came. Eric let out a sigh as he fell back on the couch.

(name) was panting heavily. It was the couple's first sexual encounter(apart from the usual making out) so it certainly had an overwhelming impact on the two.

Eric laughed as he wiped his cock off with a towel.

"That was some enthusiasm back there, hyung. What happened?"

"oh fuck off, you little shit! my jaw hurts like hell, my body is burning and my throat is sore." (name) glared at his dongsaeng.

Eric laughed again, picking (name) up and carrying him to their shared bedroom, bridal style. He laid him down after cleaning the cum that had seeped out of his mouth onto his bruised chest.

"um, hyung?" eric timidly called out to his boyfriend, afraid to disrupt his sleepiness.

"yes?" (name) answered, now yawning.

"what did you think of my....body? did you..did you like my muscles? i mean, i'm only asking because it seemed like-" the younger began rambling, a sheepish blush evident on handsome face.

(name) cut him off, reassuring him. "you look amazing eric. you were great before you started working out so much, and you're super hot now too. i'm amazed by how much hard work you've put in. your body looks amazing. i love it so much".

Eric gave him the biggest smirk, clearly content with having his boyfriend drooling over him, earning a playful hit to his bare chest from (name).

"well i'm satisfied then. you always baby me a lot. and while i live for that, i wanted to be a strong, manly boyfriend. that's why i went to the gym" eric explained, shooting his boyfriend a loving gaze. "it's for you, hyung."

(name) did not know what to say. the fact that Eric did it all to impress him was so cute to him but he kept that to himself, seeing how Eric didn't want to be called cute now. so he simply kissed his cheek and laid his head on his boyfriend's chest, drifting off to sleep.

eric blushed furiously, cupping his cheek with his hand, eyes wide.

"you need to stop doing that!" he whined loudly.

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝒈𝒐𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒂

⚠︎  mdni, smut, WEREWOLF!CHRIS, predator-prey kink, pain kink, roleplay, and more…

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!! Proofread by @bbernard-03.

matt’s favorite toy, Rose

©bernardsbendystraws

A cabin getaway was supposed to be relaxing and calm. The fall leaves shedding from the branches in the forest created a scenic autumn walk. Chris wasn’t relaxed though. In fact, he was teetering on the brink of insanity as he pulled you deeper into the woods. You were confused at first as to why your boyfriend was dragging you desperately deeper into the woods. 

“Run.” 

You almost laughed. Almost—but you saw his face. The predatory glance displayed on his features made something inside of you burn with fright and excitement. It was no secret Chris had been struggling to contain himself while trapped in the crowded cabin with his brothers and you, but now you really knew how much he was holding back. 

Splintered twigs snap underneath your feet as you run deeper into the forest. The pale sunlight doesn’t seem endearing, it seems gloomy almost. There’s a slight fog covering around your vision, getting heavier as you try to weave through the trees. Your heart is thumping. You can practically feel electricity and adrenaline screaming in every pore of your body as you hear his footsteps close behind you—only getting closer. 

The skirt bouncing in the air left your legs exposed. Thin branches butcher your naked skin, but you can barely register anything besides the pulsating buzz in your ears that twirls your stomach with excitement. 

Your heart drops as you feel yourself being tackled to the forest floor. Grass hardly shields the rough textures of pines and pebbles as you let out a shriek. Chris straddles your legs, pinning your wrists in place as his lips hungrily devour your neck. “Gotcha,” The proclamation is filled with a sickening pride as his teeth nibble into your delicate skin. Your body begins to writhe as he practically attacks you, swarming you with possessive affection as he keeps you pinned into place. 

The cool breeze does little to calm the waves of heat tickling your flesh and vibrating your muscles. Tense touches of his fingers pulling your thighs around his hips leaves you heaving with your eyes wide. You didn’t even hear him pull his jeans down. The tip of his cock runs along your damp underwear with your skirt bunched inappropriately high. “Caught my lil bunny, huh? Does that mean I get to fuck her dumb now?” He bites on your collar bone, slipping his dick underneath your panties as you let out a strangled shriek feeling his slippery precum mix with your slick. 

A scream nearly falls from your lips while you nod eagerly. He shoves himself deep and hard into you. It’s unbearable the way he immediately starts rutting into you with obsessive passion and possession. You feel the knots of euphoria and bliss contradict and mix with the stinging pains of splinters and rocks rubbing beneath your body. 

No words, only broken moans. There’s nothing you can give mentally except take it. His pelvis creating friction on your clit with each thrust leaves you clawing and squirming. You feel dirt collect under your nails, but no part of you cares to focus on anything except for how hard he’s fucking you, how rough he’s fucking you. 

“How’s that feel, huh?” He grabs roughly onto your chin, grinning at your fucked-out expression. Licking over his lips, he lets out a dry laugh while watching your eyes roll back as he fucks himself so deep—deep enough to hit places that you just couldn’t reach yourself, especially not with this intensity. “Too dumb already? Fuckkkkk, baby—squeezin’ my dick so tight. Are you already gonna cum? So fuckin’ pathetic,” he rasps. You have no room to care for his taunting. Your chest tightens as you stutter on your breaths, concentrating on finishing the high of pain and pleasure foraging together in a hot blissful wave. 

The scream that rips through you hurts, but it only gets louder as his cock remains fucking you dumb. “I—-Chris!” you yelp, slapping into his bicep as you hold on for dear life. It’s pure cries leaving your lips with each vicious pummel of his hips. 

“Take it, bunny,” he breathes, speeding up his dick as he focuses on aiming deep inside to the spot that makes your nails sink deeper into his skin.

“I caught ya, remember?”

[jujutsubaby]

after hours (part 1)

☆ pairing: toji x afab!reader ☆ summary: toji, your objectively hot neighbor, needs a babysitter, and you need some cash. however, things are getting weird because he hasn't paid you in a week and rent is due... ☆ warnings: 18+. MINORS DNI. choking, oral sex (f!recieving), implied parent death, some public nudity, slight power dynamic ☆ tags: modernAU, babysittingAU ☆ a/n: lowkey wrote this with one hand if you catch my drift ꈍ .̮ ꈍ i'm thinking about doing more parts loosely based off of each other following y/n and a love triangle between gojo and toji. yes, they will be horny and yes i will *try* to have some plot let me LIVE okay (°◡°♡) let me know if that's something people are interested in :3 🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤

"megumiiii~", you sing lightly, "it's time for beeed". it's way past 9pm, and if toji finds out his son was 30 minutes past his bedtime, he'll never let you forget the next time you babysit. not that you have any issue babysitting for your extremely built, ripped, hot, dilf of a neighbor, that is.

megumi groans and tears start lining his little eyes. "but i don't wanna~" he cries out. "there's only 30 minutes left on this show...", he tries to beg. you pick up the candy wrappers you secretly gave megumi after dinner as a treat for eating his veggies.

"okay, first of all, i let you stay up way longer than i should have. second, there's no way in hell am i gonna let you stay up and watch...oh god. you're watching euphoria?!" you exclaim, eyes widening at the thought of megumi watching all the inappropriate content without you even realizing. you hope it's too late in the night and he's far too sleepy and tired to actually retain anything he just watched. you grab the tv remote and turn it off, and pick up megumi in your arms. "c'mon bubs, you've got school tomorrow, and your daddy will be home soon", you whisper softly in his ear.

megumi yawns and mumbles while slowly drifting off. "but i'm not even that sweepyy...". by the time you make it upstairs to his room, megumi is knocked out. you smile softly at him, before quitely closing the door and heading downstairs to the living room to clean up the mess megumi had made.

you look at the time again. 9:45...toji should be back soon, you think to yourself. you decide on reviewing some of your notes for a final next week while euphoria continues to play on the background. you've personally never watched the show, but your roommate, shoko, was obsessed with jacob elordi and loved euphoria, but there was far too much nudity in it for you.

as if right on cue, shoko shoots you a text.

shoko: pls tell me ur balls deep in toji rn babe me n utahime are bored as hell and we need something exciting this friday night 😭

you giggle. it was no secret between you and three that your next door neighbor was insanely hot. you guys always joke about sleeping with toji. you quickly type back:

y/n: stfu what if he was next to me and read this text huh? never gonna happen you know that 🙄

it’s not like you’re not not down for that. you just don’t want to be all over him like everyone else in the neighborhood. you and shoko have seen the way some of these girls did not know how to act on nextdoor whenever toji went on one of his shirtless runs or drove megumi to and from school.

it’s also not like you’re a total virgin either. you’ve had your fair share of ex-boyfriends in the past, but you won’t lie…it has been a while since you’ve been with someone. your thoughts are interrupted by a response from shoko.

shoko: riiiighttt, that's why you asked to borrow my shortest n sluttiest skirt to "babysit" tn 😏

you shake your head, scoffing at your cheeky roommate. you love her, but there's a final next week that isn't going to pass itself. muting the show and putting on your headphones, you get lost in your class notes, reviewing all the important key points and ideas before your final next week. you don’t even notice toji opening the door and his keys clanging on the table as he takes off his shoes and groans after a long day of…work? you’re not entirely sure what he does for a living but you never really bothered to ask. and it’s partially why you were feeling nervous to ask toji about your babysitting payment for the last week, as he hadn’t paid you at all for it. toji heads to the kitchen and opens a cold bottle of beer and saunters to the living room, only to be met with a pair of 4k hd bare titties on the 60 inch tv in his living room and you on the sofa.

toji clears his throat loudly. “whatcha watching, y/n?”, he says cheekily. you look up at toji, startled by his entrance, and you look at the tv, and squeal at what’s on display.

“oh my god, mr. fushiguro! i-i-i have no ideas w-what’s playing. ohmygodidon’tevenknowwhatshowisplaying-” you start rambling, looking around frantically for the remote to turn the tv off.

“relax, y/n-kun”, toji coos. “i’m not judging you. never known anyone to do their best studyin’ while there are a pair of tits on screen, but you always find a way to surprise me.” toji chuckles as you turn off the tv, and moves closer to you so he can sit across the sofa.

“stop teasing me, mr. fushiguro~”, you whine., crossing your arms and pouting. “you know i’d never-“

“c’mon y/n, how many times do i have to tell you to call me toji? i’m not that much older than you, you know that right?”, toji reminds you.

your pout slowly turns into a smile as you laugh slightly. “okay, whatever you say, boomer,” you tease. you and toji both laugh gingerly. you both stare at the blank tv screen, marinating in the comfortable silence you both were familiar with. toji was right when he said he wasn’t much older than you. he was, after all, your age when he had megumi and was somehow making ends meet as a single parent, although you would be lying if you said you hadn’t seen a few women here and there that toji brought home every so often. it was never the same girl more than once, but you definitely knew he had some game, whether you liked it or not. wait, do you not like that he brings girls over?

you shift uncomfortably on the couch as you recall the uncomfortable conversation you need to have with toji. he senses the change in your mood and how you body stiffened up instead of its usually relaxed posture. toji frowns. “hey, what’s on your mind, pumpkin?”

“umm…well, i hope you don’t mind me asking this but…well, i’ve got to pay my portion of rent soon. a-and i’ve noticed that i haven’t gotten paid for the last w-week yet. sorry, i know things are rough but…i was wondering…” you trail off, pleading inside that toji can fill in the blanks himself and can figure out what you’re asking.

toji shifts towards you and locks eyes with you. you don’t really know what you were expecting to see but it sure wasn’t him smirking. you swear you saw a twinkle of playfulness in his eyes as he inches closer and closer to you. almost instinctively, you clench your thighs together, trying really hard not to think about the effect locking eyes with toji has on you.

“aw, i’m sorry, pumpkin.” toji feigns sympathy to you. “you see, i was going to pay you last week. remember when you went to tuck megumi in after last thursday? i had an envelope with the cash i owed you, and i went to put it in your bag, when your laptop chimed with a new message.” your face immediately drops. this can’t be what you think it is. you’re not entirely sure what toji could’ve seen, but also, isn’t this a violation of your privacy? you hold your breath and gulp, daring not to let toji sense how nervous you are.

“oh god, y/n. i didn’t want to look but it’s hard to look away when there’s a message that says ‘so have you fucked your hot dilf neighbor yet?’ don’t tell me you were only babysitting for me because you wanted me?” toji asks, raising an eyebrow, the scar near his lip lifting up slightly in a teasing grin.

“i-i don’t know w-what you’re talking about, toji~ why were you looking at my messages!” you accuse, your face growing hotter by the second with embarrassment and…lust? wait what no, he’s your neighbor you can’t do this! you can feel your panties getting more soaked by the second and you cannot bear to look at toji’s stupid handsome face, so you look at his hands. the way his large fingers rest on the sofa. how would they look around your neck? oh my god, snap out of it!

“why are you telling everyone but me you think i’m hot?” he counters, pulling you from your thoughts. “that reallyyy hurts my feelings, y/n-kun”, toji says as he pretends to pout. wait, when did he get so close to you?

“it’s s-so unprofessional i didn’t want to-“ you start rambling. toji is right next to you, his knees touching your knees. he stops you mid sentence by using his hands that are practically the size of your face to grab your jaw and force you to face him, as you let out a pathetic little whine.

“cut the shit, pumpkin. it’s just babysitting, okay. it’s not that serious,” toji spits harshly. every muscle in your body is on fire, and you have to actively prevent your eyes from rolling back. you swear you had a fantasy dream like this once (oh god, was it with toji?).

“don’t think i don’t see you looking sooo disappointed when i bring yet another girl home with me. hell, it even makes me feel bad…” toji trails off, as he loosens his grip on your jaw, slowly using his fingers to trace your jawline. you shiver at his touch. “hell, even i feel bad when i see your sad sad face drop. my poor girl…”, toji feigns a frown as he starts to softly trace the outline of your lips.

instinctively, you let out a quite moan when his fingers touch your lips. “i do, toji. i feel so sad when i see you with those other girls. i can’t stand it when someone else has you.” you confess, almost embarrassingly easily. your wide bambi eyes look at toji’s, and you’re not sure if you want to cry or beeline back to your place and forget this ever happened. or perhaps a secret third option where you give in to the desires you’ve had all along?

toji groans deeply as he shifts slightly in his seat, but before you’re able to look down and see the hardening tent in his pants, toji shoves his index and middle fingers into your mouth, taking you by surprise. you stifle out a moan before toji sticks them deeper down your throat.

he doesn’t even have to ask you to suck on them as you instinctively start to do so, making a show of gagging on them for toji’s pleasure. you feel warm as you hear toji let out a groan as he slips in a third finger, making you choke on them. your moans vibrate against his fingers and he hums in approval of how well you’re doing with no instruction from him.

“you’re doing so well, pumpkin,” toji hums, a string of saliva connecting his fingers to your mouth as he slowly takes his fingers out of your mouth.

alright, fuck it. this sends you over the edge. your lips crash into toji’s, teeth hitting each as you both get to know the shape of each others mouths. you bite his lip and that’s all it takes for toji to pull you onto his lap and deepen the kiss with his tongue, exploring every inch of your mouth. you feel the vibrations of his groans and your hips grind into his thigh as you put your arms around his neck, pulling yourself as close as you can to him. your legs wrap around his torso as his hands grab your ass harshly. you let out a yelp into his mouth, daring not to end the kiss.

“oh you’ve been waiting for this haven’t you, pumpkin?” toji breaths against your neck after breaking the kiss. he begins to kiss your neck and you moan his name embarrassingly load.

“tojiiii~” you whine, “i need you, please~” you try to move your hips against him to feel some friction in the place you need it the most.

“shhh, you’re gonna wake m’gumi up,” he slurs in a low voice, already drunk off of your warmth. "not so fast, pumpkin", he says as he stills your hips, "i call the shots here." he grins and before you even know it, your back hits the sofa and he pulls your legs up on his shoulders.

you feel exposed, as shoko's pleated skirt does a poor job of leaving anything to the imagination, and all of a sudden, you really wish you wore your trusted boy shorts instead of your black lace thong under it. as he starts to kiss your ankles while looking deeply into your eyes, you see nothing but primal lust on his face. he lightly bites your ankle, making you slightly yelp before covering your mouth, remembering megumi upstairs.

toji's eyes wander to your sweet spot, and it's taking everything in you not to thrust your soaking core into his hungry face. "oh, is that where you want me to touch you?" he teases, his hands running down softly from your ankles to your inner thigh. your hips wiggle side to side, hoping his fingers end up grazing your aching core, but toji holds you hips down roughly. he scoots back and peppers your leg with kisses, slowly inching up and up until he's mere inches away from your panties.

he plants a wet kiss on your clothed mound and you let out a pathetic mewl as toji shoots his head up and stops dead in his tracks. "make another noise, pumpkin, and we end this right now and you go home frustrated and upset." he warns. unfortunately, this turns you on even more and your hands are over your mouth immediately, eyes shut closed, praying toji pities you and gives you some release.

you feel toji take off your panties agonizingly slowly, and your breath hitches. "oh, your panties are fully ruined. better get rid of them." toji says as he tosses them somewhere across the room.

"it's your fault..." you say, you voice a low whisper through your hands.

toji starts back at your mound again and moans into the kiss in agreement. his fingers lightly touch your core, and you shiver in anticipation. "oh, this is where your sensitive, right?" toji teases, as his fingers finally start circling the part of your delicate bud you've been aching for toji to touch. you bite your hand to prevent yourself from moaning loudly, and take deep breaths so to not make any noise.

toji starts circling your sensitive bud with his fingers, moving with your hips as you get to a rhythm that has you on cloud nine. you feel the familiar build up beginning, when toji abruptly takes his fingers away, leaving you breathless and practically whining from his lack of touch. "ohhh, don't worry, pumpkin. i just wanna taste you," he coos, before diving mouth first into your sensitive bud once more, tasting every inch of your delicate core.

this time, you're unable to hold back and your deep breaths are practically moans. you're laughing, whining, crying...you're not actually sure. you're mind is clouded by the pleasure toji's tongue is sending through your body.

toji's fingers start teasing your entrance as your hips buckle and you start grinding on his face. you're making a mess on his sofa but you don't even care, and neither does toji. "oh, toji, fuck~ that feels...soo good...fuck~" you whine. you're practically begging for his fingers inside you, and toji finally complies and inserts his finger inside you.

"please toji~", you whisper, "i need more, please, please."

"wow, someone's a bit greedy. one finger just isn't enough for a slut like you, huh?" toji chides, the vibrations of his voice going straight to your body. he inserts two more fingers, and you feel a pang of pain, which makes you yelp.

"toji~ it's too much," you cry out, unable to handle three of his large fingers inside you at once.

"oh, now it's a problem? you can take it, pumpkin." toji encourages, moving his fingers at a moderate pace while his mouth is still playing with your delicate bud. the pain slowly turns into pleasure, and the pleasure slowly turns into an inevitable build up that's starting to cloud your vision.

"toji~" you whine. "i'm getting so close, please..." you trail off, trying your hardest to lower your moans.

"please what?" toji asks, knowing full well what you wanted, and that he was the only person able to give it you. toji's member was practically begging for escape against his dark pants, but he was far too drunk on your sweet nectar. he doesn't remember the last time he tasted someone as addicting as you.

"please, can i...c-can i...?" you don't get to finish your sentence before toji groans a "yes" into your core, and the dam that had been building finally burst as you release all over toji's face.

you pant heavily as you finish, hoping you weren't too loud. toji lifts his head from between your legs and immediately darts to your lips, kissing you deeply before you can say anything. you moan into the kiss, still feeling the effects of your orgasm rippling through your sensitive body. you taste yourself in toji's kiss and you never want it to end. a whine escapes your mouth when toji's lips finally disconnect from yours, an unashamed smile playing on toji's face. "did you like that, pumpkin?" he asks.

you're still catching your breath as you nod and smile, gazing at him softly. you can't help but want to return the favor for toji, as you slowly get up and scan toji up and down. god, he's so fucking fit.

you scoot closer to toji, maintaining eye contact, and placing your hands on his upper thigh. oh my god, his legs are just pure rock hard muscle. your hands shake slightly as they make their way on top of toji's hard straining member. toji chuckles as you grasp him over his dark pants, stopping you in your tracks by grabbing your wrist and moving it away from him.

"woah, hold on there y/n. it's 11pm. a bit too late to start something now, dontcha think?" he inquires, raising his eyebrows at you.

heat rises to your cheeks and you feel so embarrassed you could combust. oh my god, wait, does he not want you to return the favor? the insecurity showed up immediately on your face, with your lips frowning and eyebrows scrunching. toji cups the side of your face endearingly and his thumb grazes your lower lip before letting it sit there.

"hey, don't give me that look. i want this. i want you but...it's late. megumi has school tomorrow and it's parent teacher night. i know you have class, too," he explains.

you pout, but not before sucking toji's thumb that was grazing your lower lip and giving it a wet kiss. "that's not fair~ i really want to return the favor toji..." your voice trails, as you already know this conversation is over. you sigh as you turn away from him and reach for your notebook and laptop on the coffee table. you get up and bend down to grab your bag and start packing your belongings and fishing out your keys.

you hear toji hum and turn around to see the gears twisting in his dark eyes that are fixated on you. wait, hold on. he's not looking at you. he's looking at your ass. and he's being so obvious and unashamed about it, too!

you blush and roll your eyes as you chide toji. "wow, so you don't want me to suck your dick but you're gonna look at my ass as i leave?"

toji laughs earnestly and the sound of his laughter makes you feel warm and relaxed inside. you could probably live the rest of your life hearing that laugh. wait, what? rest of your life?

"first off, i do want you to suck me off, pumpkin. second, am i not allowed to respectfully admire? anyway, i was thinking. maybe you come with us to the parent-teacher meeting tomorrow? you practically help the kid with his homework every other night, and i think he really sees you as someone he can trust." toji says, bringing you out of your thoughts. you notice the hidden solitude behind his eyes, and feel a pang of melancholy in your heart. you don't know much about toji and megumi's mom, and you never thought it appropriate to discuss with either one of them, so you always let it be. a part of you is curious and another part is afraid to touch such a vulnerable side to toji, fearing it may alter your relationship with him permanently.

"we can grab dinner before, too. my treat." toji winks, and you scoff. he never even makes sure there's food for you at home before he leaves, always leaving you to pay for your own dinner every night you babysit, let alone pay a meal for you.

you roll your eyes, trying to act upset, but a giggle breaks out anyway. "yeah, i'd love to." you respond genuinely.

you finish packing up your things before searching for your discarded panties in toji's living room. "looking for these?" toji teases, holding up your lacy black thong, still ruined with the mess you made earlier today.

"give 'em back, toji~" you say, trying to reach for the panties from toji, before he stuffs them in his pocket.

"i think i'll keep these actually. they need to go in the laundry anyway, might as well be here." he teases, as you pout. toji cracks an evil grin, knowing deep down you must love having to go back home without any panties in your short skirt.

and he was right, you kinda did love it. a blush creeps up to your cheeks as you shake your head in dismay. "you're so fuckin' annoying, y'know?" you say as toji interlaces his fingers with yours as he walks to you to the door.

"yeah, i know. let's see if you're still that mouthy after you choke on me tomorrow," toji says, giving you a playfully menacing look.

the cool air of the late night nips at your skin, making you shiver, but you know deep down that has more to do with thinking about all the things toji will do to your poor throat tomorrow evening. "hm, we'll see...," you say, as your breath hitches slightly. you stand up on your tippy toes to give a quick peck goodnight to toji.

you honestly should've known better because toji immediately leans forward and turns the quick kiss into a deep make out session in the chill yet humid night air. he's quick to grab your ass, and you're quick to regain your senses and break off the kiss. oh my god, what if someone saw us, you think, recalling all the girls in the neighborhood that fawn over toji and the fact that you weren't wearing panties thanks to toji.

"stop toji~ it's late like you said," you whine, wriggling out of his strong grasp. you turns you around, you back flush against him and he laughs into your neck, arms wrapping your hips tightly from behind.

he releases you but not before giving you one last squeeze. "goodnight, pumpkin."

"night, toji," you say softly as you turn around and head to your car in the driveway. you do a poor job of pulling your skirt down as low as it can possibly get without you looking incredibly stupid, and cross your arms in the cold breeze.

you hear the door close, and start up the car engine and back out, relying only on muscle memory to get you home, as you spend the entire five minute car ride thinking solely about everything that happened today. how were you ready for another release already? you make a mental note to charge your vibrator when you get back to your apartment.

just as you pulled into the drive way, you jaw fell and you remembered. oh shit wait, he still hasn't paid me.

[lokisknife]

Golden Girl - John Price

Summary: In a London club alive with the victory celebrations of Task Force 141, Captain Price just wants a night free from formality and the weight of war. But amidst the revelry, a new kind of tension emerges as his attention fixates on his newest sniper, Y/N, his "Golden Girl". Battling thoughts he knows are inappropriate due to his age and rank, Price finds himself drawn to her in a way that defies duty. pulling towards something undeniably "risky. And wrong. And so, so tempting".

Warnings: not sticking to the canon; age difference (do I really have to say everyone is an adult here? we're talking about the military, helloooo); heavy drinking; implied size kink; implied corruption kink (just a little bit!).

Word count: 2.3k~ish

Author's note: ok, this has been sitting on my drafts for quite literally more than a year. this month sucked, my pet died, high stress at the job, high stress at uni and I've been hospitalized with a kidney infection (plz drink water and pee after sex. i beg you). I'm too scared of writing actual smut, and I wanted to post this finally, so... sorry if this is too short. I don't think anyone is going to read this lol is cod hype even a thing anymore?

It’s a typical Friday night in London. To the civilians, at least. The club is buzzing with life, with groups of all sizes chatting and laughing, drinks being spilled by drunk people on the dance floor while the colored lights keep flickering. Red, blue, red, blue, purple. The unusual thing about tonight is that the club is packed with soldiers —they aren’t spotted by their uniform, no, they are all dressed to the occasion, thank you very much. But they are spotted, instead, by their demeanor: loud, expansive, with a certain arrogance to know that they can celebrate as hard as they want because they deserve it. Their drunken grins showed a type of euphoria you could only feel if you had just won the war. And that is precisely what happened.

The infamous Task Force 141, with the help of Los Vaqueros and the Shadow Company, spent thirteen months of non-stop hard work completely annihilating a major terrorist group that presented an international threat. Unfortunately, as part of the job, the soldiers' stress levels only grew in proportion to the way the dangerous organization crumbled to ashes: all of them, by some months of work, presented stiff muscles, dark underbags, and snappy responses. And Captain Price was a traditional man: was there a way of de-stressing better than drinking your body weight in alcohol and shit-talking with your friends? He didn’t think so. His boys deserved a little fun; they did an excellent job under his command. So, order everything you want on his tab.

And there she was, the Captain’s Golden Girl, basking in the energetic booming music that made the concrete floors shake. Being the newest one on the team, she earned the nickname from her teammates, who always found a way to tease her about the non-subtle preference of the older man for his newest sniper. Innocently, Y/N thought it was a consequence of her professionalism: she was reliable and precise, always following her superior’s orders without any hesitation, and her accuracy with her rifle was impressive. She was very proud of it, always biting back a grin when the Brit called her “my golden girl”, so, of course, her friends wouldn’t dare burst her bubble. After years under his wing, they knew the bastard too damn well to know that his acts of endearment to the rookie were very far off from the paternalistic proudness Price felt towards the rest of the Task Force. Especially when his drunken state can’t take his eyes off her, sitting so pretty on the other side of the table. 

“We’re off duty, so we better act like we’re off duty” was Price’s motto for the night. After the stresses of the battlefield, he only longed for a night out with his friends, and not an awkward happy hour with coworkers. So, not only was it mandatory to boast all you want, it was essential to leave all the formalities back at the compound: for tonight, at least, there were no ranks, no dog tags, and no uniforms. Wanting to impress someone (even though he said to himself that he shouldn’t), he dressed nicely: before stepping out, he spent an embarrassingly long time perfecting his beard and applying cologne, kicking himself for caring too much. He really shouldn’t; it’s not right.

Staring at the girl in front of him, taking in her mini-skirt and the top that enhanced every single one of her curves, he forced himself to think about how he was too old for her, and not how the clothing would look scattered on his floor. Analyzing the way she did her make-up to perfection, he repeated “I’m her boss” like a mantra, instead of focusing on how incredibly plush her lips look with that shiny lip gloss.

Price is pulled out of his thoughts as shot glasses are slammed down on the hardwood table, followed by the sound of tipsy giggles. As Soap pulled a disgusted face at the burning taste of the tequila, Y/N wiped her chin from any remnants of spilled alcohol. Unaware of the glances coming from the other side of the table, she watched the banter that was initiated between the Scotsman and Alejandro at her side. 

The Captain shouldn’t be so enticed by his snipper, and God, he tried to convince himself he didn’t feel a thing. She is pretty, he has eyes, and he is lonely, simple as that. But he couldn’t attribute the burning sensation at the pit of his stomach to all the whiskey he had downed, not when it only started when he paid attention to the scene in front of his eyes. He felt like a possessive dog, watching her laugh loudly at one of the Soap’s jokes, and the sweet cadence of the sound reached his ears above the music he didn’t recognize. MacTavish was a funny guy, Price gets it. He would laugh just as loud at the humorous remark if he weren’t so stuck in his head. His fingers turned white as he gripped his cup, gulping his drink away. He should be the one sitting so close to Y/N, making her laugh so hard her eyes crinkle. Not Soap. Not anyone else. She is his golden girl, what the fuck do they know about her?

“I’ll be heading towards the bar, have another round” Price spoke up, almost mumbling to himself.

He needed another one, that’s for sure. Whatever it takes to endure the sight of her flirting with other men. But was she actually flirting, or was his mind playing tricks? Could he know that with one hundred percent certainty?

The only thing clear in his wounded heart is that he ached for her attention. It was clear from day one when his golden girl skipped into his office lighting the dark space with her bright smile. Taking notice of her joyful personality, he remembers he thought how the job would ruin her. He was wrong: she ruined him. He turned soft; he was a 37-year-old man who blushed like a teenager whenever he made an excuse to talk to Y/N. It was embarrassing.

The loud music and the intoxicated state of his mind didn't allow Price's well-trained ears to catch the following footsteps, trailing behind in the direction of the bar. Sitting on the wonky bar stool, kicking at himself for letting inappropriate feelings ruin the night, his breath hitched when he finally noticed her small figure at his side. Y/N's hand, much smaller than his, gently grazed his biceps to catch the Captain's attention. Looking up at him with pupils so dilated he could barely see the color of the irises, she smiled innocently. What he wouldn't give to ruin that pure, sinless expression...

"Just checking up on ya. You are oddly quiet, are you okay?”. Her grin was like that of a Cheshire cat under the flickering lights. The snipper kept her palm on his tense muscles for three, four, five seconds before resting it under the chin. It was enough time to make his body feel like it had been electrified, and his heart was hammering so loudly you could hear it above the music. She had to know his effects on him; it could only be on purpose. It couldn't be just a simple, thoughtless act.

"I'm fine. My mind is just... on other things." He trails off, gulping as her skirt rolls up to reveal more of her legs as she sits at his side. It moved barely an inch, but the sight of her glistening thighs was like a full meal to the starved man John Price was. Especially when his thoughts started to become more and more unfiltered with each drink.

"Thinking about what?" Y/N urges innocently, tilting her head to the side and unconsciously exposing some of her neck. The soldier looked genuinely concerned about his mental state, but her captain could only think about covering the smooth, delicate skin with hickeys until the whole team recognized his ownership.

Price shakes his head slightly, trying to drown these thoughts. He felt dirty. And drunk.

"I shouldn't be thinking about you this way..." he snickers, turning his head to the front and drinking some sips of whisky. It's almost as if he didn't notice it was said out loud.

"This way?" She arches a brow, tilting her head again. Again, with those adorable puppy eyes, with that sweet perfume that urged the man to bend her over that very same pub counter, and– And then she leans closer, apparently to hear him better. An innocent act, as innocent as her, he tries to convince himself. "What way?"

No, she must know her effects on him. His mind is taken over by images of how Y/N would look with her eyes rolled all the way back while he pounded relentlessly into her. His body feels mostly numb, as if all of his blood went straight to his crotch. Trying to look away and calm down, he catches her gaze sparkling with mischief, bottom lip caught between teeth.

Shit.

"You know what that way means" Price's eyes trailed down, meeting her cleavage with dilated pupils. It almost made him uncomfortable, the situation looking too good to be true. A beautiful piece of forbidden fruit, taunting him to make a foolish mistake. She couldn't be possibly offering herself on a silver platter like this, not to him of all people. He blurts out, before gulping another sip of the glass "You are too young for me. And I'm still your commanding officer".

"What? I didn't say anything, Captain," She purrs, feigning the purity of her intentions once again. Smiling, she snakes her hand down to his, gently pulling him out of the stool. "C'mon, Price. We are off duty, so we better act like we're off duty, right? Give me a dance".

John could stop Y/N if he really wanted, but he let himself get led to the crowded dance floor, holding her soft hands in his rough ones. He wasn't a religious man, not at all, especially after all the horrors he saw in his line of work. But right now, he makes a mental note to thank God later as the DJ stops playing the hyper techno music he didn't like to give place instead to a slow, 90's R&B, he could recognize the low bass anywhere. The Captain watched with glee as his favorite girl closed her eyes and smiled widely as she sang along to his favorite lyrics. Five minutes ago, he would have told you a whole different answer to what his favorite music is, but the sight in front of him changed everything.

The brief wholesomeness of the moment quickly shifted as Y/N placed her hands on his broad shoulders, swaying her hips easily to the bass of the music, smiling up at him. Now, John recognizes it under the bright red lights: her smile is far from sweet and innocent, but tempting like the devil up on your shoulder that whispers the sweetest and wicked ideas in your ears. With that mischievous sparkle in her eyes, what was the point of fighting?

He was off duty. For one night, he wasn't anybody's boss.

So fuck it. Right?

Price can't bite back the lustful smirk stretching his lips as he finally grabs Y/N's hips and pulls her closer the moment she turns her back on him. The act doesn't scare her at all like she acted in Price's most lucid daydreams. No, in fact, the woman pushes her dancing hips against his, looking up at his icy eyes above her uncovered shoulder.

"Took you long enough" Y/N teased over the loud music, running a rosy tongue tip over the bottom lip. One hand traveled to rest on top of the one that gripped with strength the skirt's waistband, while the other moved back to his broad shoulders, incredibly tense to someone at the club. Price chuckled, not believing his ears.

"Took me long enough? Don't you know I work above you, you little rascal?" The captain teased right back, tilting his head down to speak right into her ear, the feel of his beard tickling the sensitive skin enough to give goosebumps, even with the heat of the night.

"Ah, c'mon, Price. I've seen you. How you look at me, always pairing us both together on missions, even if Gaz would be way more useful to you most of the time" She laughed, almost quietly, the mischievous smile plastered on that cute little face of hers. Following the music with a slow, calculated swing of hips against his crotch, she added. "I think you want to be above me in other ways, am I wrong?"

Goddammit, that was risky. And wrong. And so, so tempting.

Price sighed, his tongue pressing on the side of his cheek, looking baffled with himself. Accessing what was left of the captain inside of him, in this inebriated state, the Brit scanned the room, searching for any pair of familiar eyes on him, but instead, found his table full-on bantering about football or something that looked completely stupid and meaningless right now. This, and the crack of light coming from the back door of the club, leading to an alley that hardly gets any attention this time of night.

"What a witty little thing," John whispered in Y/S's ear, hot alcoholically breath fanning over her skin. One large hand rested beautifully on her waist, pressed back, forcing her to feel how hot his body was burning, how tight his denim probably felt now at this state. How desperate, how much he fantasized about something like this happening to him. "So clever... Let me see how sharp that tongue really is, hm?"

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Your Crazy Life Married to A Hunter Clown Magician | Chronicle #1 

The catalogued mishaps and adventures with your clown of a husband. There’s never a dull moment with Hisoka Morrow. It’s best to keep track of all the wild things your eccentric husband does wouldn’t want to be married to mass murderer….or rather he already is, you just don’t want him to get worse.

A thing about being married to Hisoka Morrow is the totality of his obsession. Never will he fail to show in one way or another that he is inexplicably enraptured in your existence. It doesn’t rival the euphoria he’s been recorded to show when fighting a future opponent; it outright excels! It’s hard to explain what it’s like to continuously be reliving the ecstasy of owning+ being married to you. 

Your husband’s love knows no bounds.

Not even at your goddaughter’s birthday party that you busted your butt to prepare for will he relent. Smirking at your focused face while you struggle to blow into a balloon. 

Like all his prey he bides his time happy to wow your god daughter and her friends with his bungee gum as you get swept up in helping the host of the party. 

So selfless! It makes him want to behead everyone in sight. 

But he won’t. 

Not because he cares about how you’ll feel but because there are so many more fun ways to make you cry.

Even so….he can’t help but wish that this party was over.

Any one who can sense nen, knows his patience is wearing thin. The card in his hands more likely to slice the necks of the kids who know none the wiser. And while he adores when you angrily insult him for his behavior, he figures there’s another way to deal with his frustration.

“Uh Mister Magic why are you sucking from that balloon?”

“Because I adore my spouse in latex. In every form!”

“Your spouse?! Do you mean my fairy godparent?!”

“Yes!”

“....Does their spit really taste that good?”

“Like the sweetest cake ever made!”

“Can I try?”

“Haha, NO.”

Thankfully your intervention comes at a perfect time to stop both of them from throwing a tantrum. Placating your sweet baby girl with the beginning of a new game fort her party and dragging your husband from the scene.

“What is your problem?!”

“I was only answering their questions~!”

“And saying incredibly inappropriate things I bet!”

“What’s so inappropriate about a man loving his partner~?”

“It’s inappropriate when you’re insinuating an adult activity that she should know nothing about!”

“Oh~Love I didn’t know you had adult activities at this party! Now I can enjoy myself too!”

“What, there isn’t–”

“Where.”

It’s then you make the tactical move to satisfy your husband in a locked bathroom on the second floor. Thankful that none of the attendees are active nen users. Because with little you do know about it, Hisoka has a terrible habit of…showing off. Won’t need to worry about your husband for the rest of the party, though you’ll surely pay the price to that smiling piper later on. 

“Why do you have new pants?”

“Oh that silly magician over there spilled some punch on it, so I made him get me new pants.”

“But I make spills and I don’t change!"

“Well you don’t have a magician to make your dirty clothes disappear.”

“Hisoka!?”

“Oh that makes sense!”

Rules | Kofi | Commissions

[newlynova]

MDNI. you were sent to copenhagen to learn from the best pastry chef. little did you know that he was willing to teach you lessons beyond the realm of baking. 1.1k. cw female masturbation, power imbalance

the sweet aroma of vanilla bean and molasses enveloped you as you tugged the blanket higher upon your body, the warmth and comfort of the soft bed soothing the knots and aches of your muscles.

you had been working nonstop since you're arrival to copenhagen— your working days had consisted of fourteen hours on your feet in the kitchen of your mentor while the rest of your hours were spent nonstop reading and researching various recipes. you had been sent to copenhagen by your boss to learn from his former co-worker and close friend. 

you had been overjoyed, ecstatic even, to learn and work hands-on with such an amazing chef. yet upon your arrival, your excitement had been quickly replaced with dread— not for baking, no. but for the chef himself.

he was closer to you in age than you had expected— a handsome fellow with wavy blonde hair and various tattoos decorating his arms. he was quiet and dedicated yet very assertive in the kitchen. his tone had been dominant and blunt since he began his lessons with you, unable to hold his tongue while providing clear yet merciless feedback on your baking. he never yelled at you, though, refraining from doing so out of respect for your person, an action you rarely saw in your profession.

life after work had not been much better since you had been forced to stay with him— the rate of hotels and local bed n' breakfasts having been far too high for you to able to afford both a flight ticket and hotel arrangement for your trip. luckily, he had offered you his bedroom, allowing some divide between your personal life and his own.

and, as you lay there in your temporary boss's bed that night, your mind began to wander against better judgment. it had been far too long since you had any relief, far too long since you had felt an ounce of euphoria. hours upon hours of working had taken a toll on you, you thought as your hands drifted beneath the fabric of your large pajama shirt, you deserved this.

without another thought, your hands began to tweak your pebbled nipples, tugging and pinching at the sensitive buds as heat pooled at the base of your cunt. you rolled your head to the side, cheek pressed flat into your chef luca's pillow in a poor attempt to muffle your moans. one hand began to drift down, trailing lightly over the length of your stomach before slipping under the covers of your pajama shorts. your mind drifted to the sleeping chef on the other side of the wall.

you thought of his strong and tattooed arms. the sight of his tattoo sleeves had been an object of your desire, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as the idea of tracing the outline of the illustrations with your tongue flashed through your mind. your mind then fixated on his large hands— those long and girthy fingers making your cunt flutter around emptiness. you pondered on how they would feel buried deep into your cunt, if they were as skilled with toying with a woman's pussy as they were crafting orgasm-inducing baked goods.

the light of the bedroom flickered on as your fingers slipped into your wet slit, your walls clenching around your far-too-small index and middle fingers as the bright warm light blinded you. your cheeks grew hot as you made eye contact with chef luca, your mouth dry and muscles stiff. 

at that moment you realized how inappropriate your actions were— here you were stuffing your cunt full at the idea of sleeping with your boss while lying in his bed. you were almost positive that he was going to kick you out at this point. you wouldn't blame him either— you much rather have a pervert sleep on the streets than sleep just a few mere feet away from you.

"i— luca— i can explain." you rushed out, retracting your hand from the depths of your walls not quickly enough. you couldn't help the rush of heat to your cheeks nor the clench of your cunt at the sight of his relaxed posture. wait, relaxed? why was he so relaxed?

"you look like you've seen a ghost, love," luca smirked, the thickness of his british accent ever present. he crossed his arms over his chest, biceps flexing through the thin grey shirt he had donned. with his legs crossed at the ankles and his body leaning against the door frame, he continued to taunt you with a knowing look in his eyes. 

"don't stop on my account, pretty girl," he readjusted the grip on his arms, your eyes shamelessly drifting down to the tent growing in his plaid pajama pants. "i thought i had heard a noise and figured i'd check on you— glad i did now," he stated.

"have i been working you too hard, darling? body too sore and in need of relief that you felt the need to touch yourself," he raised a questioning eyebrow. "in my bed?"

you were too stunned to speak, your mind going blank as you processed the situation. you couldn't help but get wetter at the prospect of your boss finding amusement in your situation.

"pull the blankets down." luca ordered sternly, your hands moving quickly to follow his instructions. your body was performing on autopilot, all sense of self-esteem having gone out the window. "remove your shirt." he then instructed.

the cold air nipped at your chest, your nipples hardening even further under the weight of his gaze and the frosty atmosphere. "what were you thinking about while you touched yourself, hm?" luca questioned as he pushed his body off the door frame. his steps were slow and calculated, the bed dipping beneath his weight as he crawled into the bed space in front of you. "were you imagining this? imagining me walking in— catching you?" he taunted, fingertips brushing over the bare skin of your ankle. 

within the span of a second, luca's fingertips had wrapped around the width of your ankle, tugging your body close to him and pinning you beneath his weight. he had situated his body between your legs, eyes fixed on you like a predator. any words had been lost to you, not that you would be able to find the right words to say anyway. like always, luca had left you speechless.

"tell me, pretty girl," luca's body hovered above you, hands pinned to the bed by either side of your head while he trapped you between his legs. his eyes grazed over your bare chest, drinking in the delectable sight of your breasts rising and falling with each heavy breath. 

"do you want me to teach you another lesson?" he asked, one of his hands shifting to cup the underside of your breast. he squeezed at the plump flesh, expertly kneading at the fat of your breast like it was made of dough.

"yes, chef."

[paradisedumpling]

Dear Jupiter (Part I)

TROPE: ballerina!kazuha x ballerina!reader

CONTENT WARNING: themes of insecurity, overworking and unhealthy mindsets

A/N: this is dedicated to my friend @nwjnsloona who saw this story being built from the beginning, it's bc of her that I'm even posting it <3

────────────────────────────

"Jupiter was supposed to be a star, but failed."

The cheers.

The loud music.

The neverending rush of adrenaline.

It all happened in a blur as you kept your stance and smiled to the audience, hurrying off stage as soon as the curtains fell down.

The dry ice had been invading your lungs since 'snow' began, the end of act one automatically bringing coughs from your chest.

The infamous scene two was to any dancer a daunting task. But the euphoria that lingered right after was something you managed to bask on so dearly that none of it mattered.

It was all the pure definition of triumph.

You didn't know a life without it anymore.

Congratulations were sent your way as you walked through the cast, smiling and waving at the many people in the crowded backstage.

You gave your own share of cheers to the people surrounding you, taking special care to hug the two young dancers casted as Clara and the prince.

"Costume change, everyone! Costume change!"

"The floor was so slippery–"

"How's the snow today?"

"White with some yellow spots."

"You did a good job, now go change–"

"Really? I think it was fully white–"

"Clear the stage, guys! Costume change–"

The mild chaos post act one did nothing to faze you, swiftly making your way into the corridors of the theater.

The buzz of applause still rang on your ears as you entered the dressing room and closed the door behind you, joyful laughs welcoming your presence.

"Look who it is! Our Flower Queen of the night!" Your friend Yunjin smirked up at you as she carefully removed the crown in her head. "One of the hardest roles, for the rising star of the academy!"

"Oh, please." The playful annoyance in Chaewon's voice, your other friend, made a breathy laugh escape your throat. "You just did Snow Queen, flatter yourself a little."

You sat down in front of the large mirror, watching in amusement as your friends engaged in their usual conversation.

"She's not lying, Yunjin." The grin on your face did nothing to hide the intensions behind your words, hands calmly working on removing your armbands. "Snow is the scariest of the whole Nutcracker, give yourself some credits!"

"I don't know, it's quite easy..." With a shrug of shoulders, Yunjin stepped inside her red pants for the second act.

Looking back at Chaewon, the two of you shared playful smiles before you got up and began changing from your white dress to your dark pink tutu.

"I don't know if you agree with me but... Ungrateful people are not fit for the Snow Queen." Chaewon mused with a finger over her lips, swiftly dodging an empty band-aid box Yunjin threw at her.

"Such an elegant role, it should go to good people." You feigned disappointment, letting out a loud sigh.

"You know what?" Chaewon turned to you with a mischievous smile. "I think we should tell Mr. Lee to cast her as Mother Ginger next time."

The loud gasp that left Yunjin's mouth had you throwing your head back to laugh aloud. "We don't even have that number! Don't curse me like that!"

"Maybe it's time for us have it then." The oldest of your friends giggled after her phrase, jumping through the many other dancers in the dressing room to distance herself from a mid changing Yunjin. "You'd look amazing birthing the polichinelles!"

An inappropriate countered comment was directed at Chaewon not much after, but the door opening drifted your attention from your friends bickering to the head picking inside the room.

"I hope all this laughing means you're excited for act two!" Mrs. Yu, one of your ballet teachers, pointed her finger at some dancers resting on the floor, an stressed authoritarian tone in her voice. "Get changed quicker, girls! We don't have all the time of the world!"

"Someone's stressed." Yunjin whispered in a singsong voice, grimacing.

"Nutcracker is stressing." You whispered back, averting direct eye contact while walking towards one of your fellow dancers to touch up your makeup.

"Has someone seen where the roses are?" With a quick side eye, Chaewon made her way to the other side of the dressing room to avoid catching the attention of the woman.

From your peripheral vision, you saw Mrs. Yu make her way to one of the older dancers, whispering between one another.

Taking the change of atmosphere to focus once again, your mind wondered back to the event of the night.

In approximately half an hour, you'd be leading waltz of the flowers and the spotlight would be following you around as all of the attention in the theater would be on your dancing for almost seven minutes.

Nothing in life would ever be as greater as that.

"You." Mrs. Yu voice startled you out of your thoughts, catching the woman pointing in your direction. "Come here."

Gulping down, you thanked the dancer fixing your makeup and walked over to her. "Yes, madam?"

"There's some friends of Mr. Lee here tonight." Eyes wide, you waited for her next words with pursed lips. "Do great as Waltz Queen today and he might send you to guest as Sugarplum next week in Daejeon." Your eyes sparkled at that, a buzz of excitement growing in your chest at the honored opportunity.

"I won't disappoint, madam!" Bowing, you felt a hand lightly pat your back.

"You're a good ballerina." Hearing that from the teacher, a professional ballet dancer, made the blood rush to your cheeks, feeling the warmth on your face. "You might get far in your career.... Good job."

The next few minutes were a blur as all you could think about were those last words.

Good job.

A praise from any of the teachers in your academy was rare, and often came behind a light insult. So a direct praise without any underlying had you on cloud nine.

Once again on stage, you only came to be when someone whisper yelled that there were five minutes left to the beginning of act two.

Looking around, you saw everyone doing a last run though their routines.

And you were about to do your last set of pirouettes had not been from some light tapping on your shoulder.

Behind you stood a junior ballerina and growing friend of yours, Eunchae, lightly fidgeting with the fan in her hands.

"Nervous, Manchae?" Smiling at her, you brought her in for a quick hug. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just not too confident on my variation." Eunchae mumbled, looking down at her feet with a frown.

"But you did amazing on rehearsals." You squeezed her shoulders sympathetically.

The girl remained quiet for a few seconds until abruptly looking up at you, admiration all over her eyes.

You felt prideful.

"Would you help me? Your Spanish variation was so vivid last year." Eunchae held both of your hands, pulling nervously as she pleaded. "I'm worried my legs aren't reaching high enough."

"Did you stretch properly today?" She nodded, making you nod silently in ponderation. "Alright, Manchae. Show me your number." Immediately, a smile emerged in her face and she let go of your hands to get into position.

Eunchae was a graceful dancer, if not a bit inexperienced with big roles. The more fast paced number matched her bubbly persona perfectly and her charisma stood at a high even in this short rehearsal before act two of the ballet.

Finishing with triumph as if it had just been the official performance, the girl's smile immediately dropped as she turned to you in expectancy.

"You did amazing, Manchae." She smiled again, shyly this time. "But you're tense, that's why your muscles aren't flexing properly." You took her hands and lead her backstage as the crew announced act two was about to begin.

Walking behind a costume rack, you held both of the girl's hands and squeezed lightly, indicating that she followed your lead.

"Deep breath in..." She whispered, inhaling slowly with you, before exhaling and repeating the same process a few times. "Deep breath out..."

"That's it." Smiling at her, you brought Eunchae for another quick hug. "Now go stretch yourself a bit more before your number begins."

Eunchae gave you one sharp nod before rushing away to stretch somewhere with more space.

Alone again, you couldn't help but stay grounded on your place as it gave you a perfect view to the crowd.

Their awestruck gazes.

The cheers and claps after difficult choreography moves.

It made your heart race just from watching, a small smile creeping up on your lips from excitement.

You couldn't wait for Waltz of the Flowers.

Time seemed to blur between songs as scenes passed by quickly until you were being lead on to the stage, smiling wide and charming to the audience.

You stopped in the middle marking, making a reverence pose to the crowd and in that moment, everything seemed to come to a halt.

With the spotlight blinding your vision, it was impossible to see further into the theater. But the gazes of hundreds still pierced your skin in a burning sensation that made the tip of your fingers tingle with a mix of nervousness and excitement.

Most importantly, you could feel Mr. Lee's sharp gaze at the side of your head.

This wasn't just another Nutcracker Ballet show that happened every December in your academy. At least not for you.

Tonight was a test.

A test to see if you were good enough. Competent enough. Professional enough to get a recognition outside of your city.

A test to see if you deserve to become one of the greatest ballet dancers of your generation and have the opportunity from learning at other academies.

And Mr. Lee's sharp, merciless gaze was certainly a reminder to all of that.

In all honesty, this was the scariest moment of your life. And you couldn't be more ecstatic about it.

The thrill was everything to you.

The fear of failure. The hours upon hours practicing and dancing until your muscles gave out and you couldn't do anything without feeling pain. The clapping and cheers from the crowd as you danced around.

It all made you feel alive.

You could almost say you felt too emotional as time seemed to move faster again, allowing you to let the beautiful composition of Tchaikovsky move your limbs around in a gracious ballet waltz.

Confidence turned into boldness as you turned the double pirouettes into triple turns, basking in the loud approval of the audience with great pride.

Ending the number with another elegant pose, you took an extra second to leave the stage, not wishing to part from the attention so soon.

But soon, the dark backstage welcomed you and the other dancers as the ballet progressed and the beautiful pas de deux began.

Mirroring the movements from the current Sugarplum Fairy of your academy happened unconsciously with all the adrenaline still pumping your veins. But you took great care not to disturb any of the crew members in the small space you're all in.

It was such a beautiful role, and you could only hope you'd manage to dance to it in the week to come.

Time for bows were certainly one of your favorite parts of any show you performed.

To get the opportunity to go on stage with all the people you spend days on end practicing and performing with, receiving a collective big round of applauses made all the pain and stress worth it.

However, you weren't expecting such a loud round of applause as you came forward for your individual reverence.

As you stepped back in line with the other dancers, you looked at Yunjin with surprise, a similar expression on the dancer's face as she stood not too far in her Snow Queen costume.

A big smile found its way to your lips, breaking character just a little as the euphoria took over your thoughts.

You felt marvelous.

Then, the man himself walked on stage. Artistic director Mr. Lee, with all his glory graced the stage with his presence for his own bow.

The looming expectancy over your head seemed to become heavier with the presence of the man, your eyes following his every gestures to the audience.

When the curtains closed for a final time, your body slumped immediately, a nervous sensation growing on your chest as for the first time tonight everything felt uncertain.

Hugging yourself, you walked to stand with Chaewon and Yunjin as all of you waited for Mr. Lee's final thanks to the cast and crew.

"Everyone." The man opened his arms, motioning to the hundreds gathering on the theater stage. "What a great show we had tonight!" The collective relieved sighs would've made you laugh if one hadn't left your mouth too. "You all did amazing, good job."

As he began thanking each crew member one by one, you leaned against your friends for support as you grew nervous each passing minute.

After what seemed like hours, but had truly only been ten minutes, the man dismissed everyone.

You told Yunjin and Chaewon that you'd meet them later in the dressing room and stayed behind to speak to Mr. Lee. And he seemed to have noticed your presence as he turned around as soon as your fingers were about to tap his shoulder.

"There you are." Gulping down, you smiled nervously at him. Mr. Lee glanced you down with neutral eyes, only giving a short nod, turning around again. "Come here, I want you to meet someone."

His words halted your breathing for a second, not truly believing what they could mean.

You blinked for a few seconds, watching the man walk up to the curtain and through it. Shaking your head, you took deep breaths as you followed behind him, a smile threatening to find its way on your face.

Mr. Lee lead you towards two well dressed people still sitting in the theater, greeting both of them with a wide smile and warm hugs.

It felt foreign to you watching the man be so friendly to others when he was far from it during rehearsals, but you assumed this was what he was like with his friends.

Or perhaps it's just formalities.

It already felt like the first step to your professional career.

Meeting new people. Seeing new sides of old people. Exploring a new world.

You felt nervous and thrilled at the same time.

It excited you.

"This is my dancer I was talking to you two about." Mr. Lee introduced you, smiling rather proudly. You bowed, giving them a short wave and a shy smile. "This are Jung Hoseok and Kiyomi Nakamura." Eyes instantly widening at the familiar names, your posture became rigid again. "As you should know, Hoseok is a great ballet teacher at the Daejeon academy and Kiyomi has a studio of her own in Japan." You nodded eagerly, eyes averting between the three pristine professionals with expectation.

"Mrs. Nakamura is here in the country to help us by filling in for a great friend of ours that's unfortunately injured at the moment and can't work." Mr. Jung took the reins of the conversation, his voice much calmer and kinder than that of your director. "And we also unfortunately have some dancers unavailable."

"Which brings us to you." Mrs. Nakamura had intense eyes as she ran her gaze over your costume, a hand over her mouth in deep thought.

You waited for the woman to remain speaking, but she kept her silent, still judging you with an intensity you would argue was bigger than Mr. Lee's.

"I was kind enough to offer one of my students." Your director clears his throat, smiling proudly as he motions towards you. "And you certainly outdone yourself today, my dear."

"It's a great honor, sir. Madam." Bowing once again to the visitors, you bit back a frown when Mrs. Nakamura finally stopped gazing you down, only to look up and meet up your gaze with sharp eyes.

"You did well tonight. It will help filling in a role or two, yes." Before she could say any further, her phone rang, and the woman excused herself to leave and pick it up.

"It's settled then!" Mr. Jung smiled brightly at you, making you feel an odd sensation of cold and hot at the difference of treatment from the two senior dancers. "We already have your flight scheduled for tomorrow night, so make sure to rest well and pack your things in the morning!"

"I'll do my best not to disappoint you, professor!" You allowed a smile towards the man, so many joyful emotions brewing in your heart you would later need a moment alone to process them all.

"Don't mess this up." Mr. Lee whispered as he gave you a quick celebrating hug, squeezing your shoulders tighter than the comfortable amount to deliver his message firmly.

"I'll do my best! Thank you for the opportunity!"

‎♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

Being alone in a different city was better than you had first expected.

It felt terrifying, of course. But the freedom you had was one never experienced before.

Exploring the city the night you arrived in Daejeon might have been a small mistake when you had to wake up at five in the morning the next day. But the opportunity to walk around a new environment all by yourself was a peaceful and healing moment you didn't realize you desperately needed.

The cold temperatures of mid December soothed your sore limbs for the stressful rehearsal to come, the scenario covered in white snow calming your brain from all the nerves this opportunity had you feeling.

You couldn't mess this up.

It might seem small, but this was one of the best opportunities you had ever gotten in your career as a ballet dancer.

Being anything but perfect wasn't an option.

And to say you felt fearless was a lie.

Perhaps that's why that, instead of waking up with the alarm set on your phone at five, you had your eyes open and mind wondering at four fifty in the morning.

The warmth in the hotel room welcomed you in a strangely chilly sensation, chest tightening with anxiety.

You didn't bother bringing an extra coat when you left for the academy, opting for a lazy jog on your way there as pre warmup.

Despite all the fear you had, excitement still bumped your veins full of energy.

The Daejeon Academy was one of the biggest in the country and known for being the first home of many international talents. Every show had always an immense audience and directors from all over the globe came to watch each show in hopes of finding their new big star.

The academy was a place were dreams come true. And yours just so happened to be one of the biggest ballerinas your generation has ever seen.

When finally arriving at the academy building, you were taken back by how different from the one back home was.

Mr. Lee had always been one for traditional architecture, and his academy wasn't any different. You were used to darker colors and a place worth of a renaissance museum.

But the modern structure surrounding you and the overwhelming white walls had your feet halting, eyes wide as they wandered around the scenario.

The academy looked intimidating, somewhat more professional than what you were used to.

It sparkled anxiety in your chest, but you couldn't help the awestruck smile on your face at the sight.

"Hi, excuse me." Approaching the receptionist shyly, you gave her your details and explained what you were doing there. She was kind, and you felt a little more at ease by her presence. "When does rehearsals begin again?"

"By eight, sweetheart. I'm afraid you're a bit early." Giggling awkwardly, you looked around to find a place were you could at least stretch. But she didn't give you much time to do so, already knowing the nerves of a newly arriving dancer in the academy. "Studio eight is free if you wish to warmup." With a grateful smile, you nodded excitedly at the information. "Don't be afraid to explore! Enjoy your state here!"

"I will, thank you so much!"

Walking through the corridors with curiosity, you found the studio the receptionist had told you about.

You could see some dancers already inside.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you wiped your hands on your coat and turned instead to a few vending machines in the corridors.

Because of the anxiety you felt the whole morning, breakfast was the last thing on your mind as you left the hotel. And if you were going to socialize and endure a full day of rehearsals with strangers, you'd need at least something in your system to keep you going.

The options weren't many. Sweet snacks, salty snacks and everything free snacks was all those machines had to offer. So you decided to take one of each for the whole day, taking some cash out of your wallet and inserting in the machine, pressing the buttons of the snacks most familiar to you.

But instead of them falling out, they got stuck on the loops right as they were about to fall.

"Oh, come on." Mumbling under your breath, you looked around warily before shaking the machine lightly. "Please."

It seemed like nothing would make those snacks come down, and you were about to give up, already mourning the money loss you just suffered to a vending machine, when a pair of hands shook the machine harder than you did, making a loud noise echo through the empty corridors.

With a few strong hits, your snacks fell and the stranger bend down to grab them, offering your food to you.

You blinked at the hands in front of you, grabbing the snacks before looking up at their owner.

A beautiful tall girl with black hair smiled gently in front of you, her lack of coat revealing she was another ballerina due to the leotard she was wearing.

You sucked in a breath when you reached for your snacks and your hands touched, feeling a sparkle of electricity upon the quick touch.

"The food always gets stuck on these." Her sweet voice filled your ears and brought a warm sensation to your cheeks. "You just have to beat them out of there." Her relaxed giggle had you shy under her gaze, but you couldn't tear your gaze from her beautiful delicate face.

"Thank you..."

You were mesmerized by this pretty stranger, and for a moment all thoughts about rehearsal slipped free of your mind.

It seemed like a million years passed as you gazed into one another, neither saying anything.

You could feel your face getting warmer as your heart thundered inside your chest.

The beautiful girl opened her mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again when a shout had both of your heads turning to the now open door of studio room eight.

"Kazuha, come on! I need you to lay on my back so I can stretch my legs properly!" A tall boy called out, impatiently beckoning the girl with his hands before he entered the studio again with a loud sigh.

"Good luck today, Sugarplum." The sweet voice told you and with a kind smile, the girl walked over to her friend as you watched enchantedly her gracious steps.

Kazuha was her name, it seemed.

What a beautiful name to a beautiful girl.

Maybe you weren't so anxious anymore.

You finished eating quicker than ever before, rushing inside the studio with renowned confidence.

The pretty girl, Kazuha, and her friend were in a corner close to the mirror wall and she shot you a smile as you walked in.

Shyly smiling back, you dropped down in the opposite corner and began your own set of stretches, taking deep breaths to concentrate and forget about the ballerina just a few meters away from you.

Your limbs ached from days of stress, rehearsal and shows, but your muscles screamed in relief at the stimulation.

Soon, all there was left was a warm sensation as your body began slowly warming up, the cold of winter no longer affecting you.

Minutes later, still excited from the new and modern environment, you took off your coat and switched to your pointe shoes, getting up and walking close to the mirror.

Not minding any of the growing number of dancers in the room as time passed, you allowed your muscle memory to freely carry your body through an invisible rhythm of Dance of The Sugar Plum Fairy.

Dancing as if you were on stage, your body moved flawlessly over and over as you repeated the variation until it fully satisfied you.

Perfect was the minimum you had to be in Daejeon.

Everything had to be flawless.

Perfect.

Graceful and beautiful.

So you repeated the dance again and again, never once minding the growing pain in the tendon of your heels from being elongated for too long.

Lost in this routine, you failed to notice a familiar figure walking in and intensely observing you until words were being directed at you.

"Your movements are good." Mrs. Nakamura sudden voice had you stumbling over your own feet, having to grab on a bar to catch yourself before turning to look at the woman with wide eyes. "Fourth position." You took in a sharp breath, body moving to the position she asked for before your mind even registered what you were doing. "Third position." Once again, your legs moved not a second later. "Retiré." Bringing your right knee in a flex high above your other knee, you straightened your left leg and patiently waited for other instructions. "And you're well trained as well." With a hum, she walked closer to you and gazed at your body similarly to the night before.

Unsure if you were allowed to relax or not, you keep yourself in the movement she last asked.

The desire to impress the legendary ex-dancer that'd be your teacher for the week to come had the pain becoming numb as a small smile grew on your lips, reflecting as if you were performing in front of an audience.

Had her words been a praise or not wasn't for you to ponder much on. But a warmth took over your chest at her next words.

"Maybe you are in fact the best dancer Lee has." With a single nod, Mrs. Nakamura sharply turned around, clapping twice loudly. "Heeseung, come here! I want you to meet your partner for Nutcracker."

The boy from earlier got up from his position on the floor, almost gliding towards you as his steps seemed light on the floor.

Very elegant, you could see why he was chosen to do the variation.

"This is Heeseung, your Cavelier for the shows you'll be doing here." As the woman introduced the you he gave a welcoming smile, shaking your hands with a strong grip. "Since you're both already here and you're new, why don't we begin already so you get acquainted with each other?"

Slightly pushing you into one another, Mrs. Nakamura left for what you assumed where the speakers, as you could only awkwardly look at your feet.

"She's very direct, if you haven't noticed already." Heeseung said with a relaxed expression, winking at you before he gave a small reverence, reaching out his hand for you to hold.

"You know the variation, right?" Trying a tease to keep the light mood, you grabbed his hand and let him lead you to the center of the room.

"More than I know the layout of my own house." With a last giggle, you both became silent as the music began, allowing your bodies to be carried away with the music.

But despite the familiarity with the dance and Heeseung's great dancing ability, you found yourself getting more distracted each repetition of the choreography.

Distracted by a pair of deep brown orbs, more precisely.

It seemed like your new presence in the academy had triggered the curiosity of a certain ballet dancer.

Prying eyes would usually never bother you when dancing, but something about Kazuha's unfamiliar but warm eyes watching you intensely through the mirror kept turning your focus towards her instead of the moves you had to do.

You didn't even know her, yet she managed to break right through the concentration you spent years improving.

But you couldn't focus on her right now.

Not when stakes were so high.

Not when you had shows to perform in just a few days.

Not when your feet buckled under your weight and you almost fell to the floor, had Heeseung not catched you in time.

"Are you okay?" Blinking confusedly, you nodded at his words.

"It seems like that's enough for now." A protest almost left your lips at Mrs. Nakamura's words, but all you could do was slump in defeat as she stopped the music and immediately left the speaker's area. "Hoseok should be here anytime now and then we'll begin rehearsals officially, you two take that time to rest."

Helplessly watching her leave the studio room, all you could do was stretch some more to prepare for the hours ahead of you.

Unconsciously gazing towards Kazuha seemed to have become a habit at this point, finding her eyes already staring at you as she smiled sweetly in your direction upon notice.

Yeah, there was no way you could be mad at her for distracting you.

She was too pretty not to look at and too pretty to stay mad.

You would just have to try harder to concentrate more.

So you gave her a small smile in return, avoiding her eyes to, hopefully, focus better on your stretch routine this time.

Luckily, the first day of rehearsals went great and you got along with the other dancers really well. Heeseung might even become a lasting friend of yours after you go back home.

But that failure of your feet earlier bothered you more than you'd ever admit out loud, nagging the back of your head the entire day. And when Mr. Jung announced everyone could go home and rest, you asked if you could stay behind for another hour to practice more.

"Don't forget I'm taking you to the good restaurants tomorrow at lunch." Heeseung said as he bid you goodbye. "Don't bring lunch! Just money!"

"Don't worry about it! Money is all I brought here!" Waving at him, you silently watched the room get emptier before fully turning to the mirror.

Taking a deep breath, you began going through your Sugar Plum solo again.

It went smoothly and flawless.

Your body moving around with grace as you found yourself in a rare moment of solitude, that granted you a bigger ability to concentrate.

Time seemed to have somewhat stopped as the world turned into only you, the tightness of your swollen feet after a full day dancing inside of your pointe shoes, and the variation you were doing.

Everything felt perfect as usually.

Until you reached you variation with Heeseung.

Thinking you could do your pirouettes without your partner was foolish, but you tried nonetheless.

Again and again. Stumble after stumble.

But no matter how much you tried, dancing a duet without a partner is the closest thing you ever felt to uselessness. And the growing frustration with the mistakes and missteps didn't help as it had all of your thoughts being directed to the same culprit, you.

With another failed pirouette, you groaned loudly and threw your head back, mumbling frustrated words under your breath.

Staying in silence for a few minutes seemed to help calm yourself down, as you took deep breaths to regulate your breathing.

However, when you were about to go through the pas de deux once again, firm hands on your waist had you rooted on your spot. Eyes opening, they immediately went wide at the person behind you.

Kazuha stands behind you with an expression you haven't seen from her yet. Even through the mirror, you could clearly see furrowed eyebrows as she seemed concentrated and somewhat concerned while she stared down at your feet.

"Kazuha–"

"You'll hurt yourself overworking like this." Blinking stunned at her words, a sensation of frustration grew in your chest as the words hit you like an insult. Not caring if something at the back of your mind told you those weren't her intentions, you attempted to move away from her hold, but she held your firmer in place. "I'm serious."

Sighing, you gave up embarrassingly quickly. Adding a full day of rehearsals to a badly slept night, your body felt exhausted.

But that didn't mean you'd let her do whatever she wanted so easily.

"Why do you care?" Crossing your arms over your chest, you refused to move at all, catching an amused expression from her through the mirror.

You almost let out a smile in pride.

"You're snappy when you're stressed." After a few seconds of simply staring into one another through your reflections, she finally said, with her hands moving up to your shoulders. "Relax." Kazuha whispers gently, massaging your shoulders with skilled hands. "You're all blocky, your muscles are too tense." When a particular knot in your neck was released by Kazuha, you couldn't help but melt into her warm body. "There you go." Slowly moving her hands down your back, she held your waist once again after finishing her massage. "Now you're cute again." Feeling your cheeks warm, you're immediately defleted by her next words. "And you won't injure yourself training improperly too."

Narrowing your eyes in her direction through the mirror first, you turned around abruptly and pointed your finger at her chest, mustering your best serious face at the ballerina. "You make me confused. I don't like it."

Then you broke free from her hold, walking towards the speakers and selecting the most recent played song.

Walking back toward Kazuha, you couldn't help the playful smile on your lips as she now looked at you confused.

"If you don't want me to hurt myself, then help me." Watching the knowing sparkle appear on her pupils, you got in position, the atmosphere immediately changing as the song began.

To say you were impressed by Kazuha's strength as she steadily lead the dance was an understatement.

But something else occupied your mind during that moment.

For the first time in your life, it wasn't the audience you imagined as your body moved.

This time, all your eyes could see was Kazuha and her intense dark orbs staring right back at you.

The moment her hands held your waist to assist in your pirouettes, that same electricity you felt earlier ran through your body.

And suddenly, the original choreography was no longer known in your muscle memory.

When your eyes met again, the ballerina seemed to have gone through the same feeling, as instead of letting go of your waist completely, she simply let one hand there, moving the other one to lace with your own as another sparkle happened upon the touch.

Waltzing in the opposite side you should've danced to, Kazuha lead you in a dance of your own around the room.

No longer following a known choreography, you looped one of your hands around Kazuha's neck, tightly squeezing her hand with the other.

Something about Kazuha's touch and presence felt so correct.

So warm.

So fitting.

Like a piece of music finally coming together, being played by an orchestra for the first time in a beautiful winter night.

You didn't even notice when the song ended and Kazuha had you firmly pressed against her, face so close you could feel her rapid breathing mixing with yours.

For a moment, as the song looped again in the background, you stayed that way. Simply staring at each other's eyes, something new growing in your heart belonging only to Kazuha.

It was many seconds after when the ballerina broke the silence with a whisper. "You're so pretty."

You didn't miss the way her eyes finally moved from yours, traveling down to your lips with something new behind them.

"Are you sure we have never met before?"

"I would have known if I found you before." Looking up again, Kazuha let go of your hand to hold your cheek instead. "But there's something about you indeed.... I couldn't keep my eyes off the entire day."

"I know." Was all you could say as this time, your eyes were the ones traveling down to look at her lips. "Do you believe in destiny, Kazuha?"

A melodious laugh left her lips, her head falling back as your bodies finally parted for a few centimeters.

"I didn't take you as the superstitious one." Seeing your pout, she finally let you go, walking towards the speakers still playing the song you were supposed to be dancing as you watched silently. "So, does destiny allow me to walk you back to your hotel or can I ask that as myself?"

"I didn't take you as the jokester one." You teased, tiredly moving your heavy body to gather your things. "Come on, Kazuha. Destiny says I need someone to carry me if I get too tired on the way."

"Hey!" Playfully shoving you, the ballerina grabbed her things before lacing her arm with yours as you both left the academy together.

The cold and sharp wind had you leaning closer to Kazuha for her warmness, but the light snow falling from the sky had your eyes looking up at it with wonder.

"You're really beautiful." Turning your head to face Kazuha, you found her eyes wide with a sincerity you couldn't quite understand yet, but it make you shy under her gaze, averting your eyes with a small smile.

"Do you..." Sighing deeply, you gripped her arm tighter as a gush of wind passed through you, making your body shiver. "Do you know anywhere we could have a light meal or something? Preferably, somewhere warm."

"I don't know the city that well yet, but..." Looking back at her, you saw Kazuha fumbling with one arm to pull her phone from her backpack as you held the other one. Seeing her struggle, you let go of her arm, just for Kazuha to wrap it around your middle and pull you tightly towards her. "There's this place Heeseung recommended once and I think we can go there right now."

Your heart began pounding in a rush of adrenaline you couldn't quite understand watching the girl in front of you.

Something about the way the white snow fell on her dark hair, to the way some strands of hair fell in front of her eyes as she leaned her head over to look better at her phone. The faint light coming from it illuminating her features just enough to allow you to see her furrowed eyebrows of concentration and the sparkle it brought to her eyes, making her look so cute and pretty.

It all made your heartbeat quicken in pace, a strange feeling beginning to grow inside your chest.

"It's not far from here, what do you think?" Turning to look at you with a small smile, your eyes widened at her catching you staring at her, quickly averting your eyes and nodding at the question.

The walk to the restaurant was calm, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence as the scenario around evolved from the not so populated area around the academy to the still busy streets of Daejeon as late night workers made their way home before the snow could get any thicker.

Kazuha's arm remained around your torso in a warm embrace throughout the entire way.

Somehow, it felt like you had known each other for a century.

It felt strange, you weren't used to getting so comfortable and close to anyone like that.

But with Kazuha it felt right. It felt good.

You could only hope this pull the ballerina had on you would stop distracting you during class.

Being around Kazuha was great.

But perfection and the cheers were the most exhilarating things you have ever experienced.

Distraction was not something affordable to achieve that.

When you finally arrived at the place, you both wasted no time in rushing inside and sitting down at one of the warm cushion booths, letting out a sigh of relief at the soothing temperature.

"A ramen restaurant?" You mused out, giving the girl in front of you a teasing smile as grabbed the menu.

"It was a kind recommendation!" Kazuha's laugh had your eyes immediately traveling up to watch her once again, shyly leaning back to admire the ballerina.

"Are you here for summer intensive?" She shook her head at the question, gently grabbing the menu from your hands and intensely gazing through the options.

"I'm just accompanying my mom." Looking up with a small smile, Kazuha put the menu aside and called for a waitress, telling her both of your orders.

Once the waitress left, you turned to Kazuha again. "So, what does your mom do?"

But instead of an immediate answer, she blinks at you.

Staring at each other's eyes for a few seconds, you could only feel confusion at her reaction.

Then, she laughed. Throwing her head back and covering her mouth as genuine laughs left her chest.

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, and perhaps at the way she sounded so beautiful laughing, but you didn't let any of it silence you.

"I don't get what's so funny."

Still taking a few second to compose herself, Kazuha leaned on the table to get closer to you, her expression suddenly turning serious as she tried to hide the remaining giggles behind a tight smile.

"My name is Kazuha Nakamura."

Oh.

Blinking dazedly, you let your eyes unfocus as your mind processed that new information.

She was Kiyomi Nakamura's daughter.

She was Mrs. Nakamura's daughter.

She was incredible.

"You're...." The words died on your mouth as thoughts rushed through your brain.

"To be fair, I look nothing like my mom." Somehow, you already knew that, Kazuha's facial features already starting to be engraved into your mind. "She likes to joke she spent nine months suffering just to give birth to my father's twin, but with long hair." Her words elited a genuine chorus of giggles from your chest, feeling calm and relaxed despite the revelation that she was the daughter of a legend.

You didn't feel threatened, strangely.

Kazuha didn't feel like competition.

Like someone else you needed to exceed to gain Mr. Lee's attention.

She was simply Kazuha.

You liked that.

"That explains why you knew I was Sugarplum." Mirroring her, you leaned on the table and narrowed your eyes. "It doesn't explain why you're not Sugarplum instead. From all I saw today, you're a great dancer. And you probably pull strings if you want, no?"

Before she could reply anything, the waitress came back with your orders and you both had to move away so your bowls could be placed in front of you.

Watching silently as Kazuha took a bite of her noodles, you couldn't help a small smile from slipping through your lips when she hummed satisfiedly at the taste and looked up at you with joyful eyes.

"Well, I'd rather be Mercury than the Sun." Her words brought your eyebrows together in confusion. Slowly taking a bite of your food, you kept your attention focused on her.

"Is that a japanese ballet term I don't know?"

"No." Kazuha winked at you, giggling. "I just like space poetry."

"Space poetry?" You couldn't help the laugh coming from your chest, coughing a few times as some food got caught in your throat at the sudden intake of air. "Is that an actual thing?"

"My dad has a whole collection of it." Despite her wide eyes, Kazuha's tone carried a warmth that brought a similar sensation to your heart.

"Your dad seems really cool." She nodded at your words, grinning with her eyes. "So, what does Mercury and the Sun have to do with ballet?"

"I'm fine being great by myself, just orbiting closely around the star." The ballerina shrugged, taking a few quick bites of her ramen before speaking again. "Besides, I'm usually always Sugarplum at home so."

Kazuha gave you a teasing grin, not being able to contain her laughter once you glared at her with fake annoyance.

It managed a giggle out of you, and suddenly you found yourselves in a small laughing fit.

At some point, your hands found each other in the middle of the table for support, squeezing tightly as the laughing slowly came to an end.

Your eyes found each other almost immediately, something that seemed to be becoming common. Much like the warmth rising on your cheeks and the quickened beat of your heart.

Kazuha squeezed your hand again, a growing familiar emotion in her eyes.

You cleared your throat, not pulling away but averting your gaze shyly.

"So, miss Mercury." Lowering in tone, your voice came out in a sudden vulnerability that was certainly unwanted but unavoidable. "What am I then?"

Suddenly, you wished to be back in the cold snow where then at least you could pretend the chills going through your joined hands were from the temperature, and not the touch.

Still, all Kazuha did was squeeze your hand reassuringly. It made your gaze wander back towards hers, finding her smiling sweetly at you.

A smile that was becoming too familiar for someone you met just today.

But a smile that, perhaps, would not be so unwelcomed at your time in Daejeon anymore.

"I think you're Jupiter."

"Jupiter?" Your eyebrows quirk upwards in surprise and curiosity, leaning a bit closer as you find genuine intrigued by her words. "I don't know, I wanna be grand and bright like the Sun!" The dreamy tone of your voice betrays the ambition deeply rooted within you, soft sighs leaving your mouth as the imagery of the loud cheers and applause of the audience take their place in your imagination. "The biggest of the solar system, the brightest, the center of it all! That's who I wanna be."

The confession comes softly, a gentle squeeze on your hand bringing you back to reality.

Kazuha's gaze is warm, not a single hint of judgement in her eyes.

The sensation it makes you feel is odd, so used to the great rivalry of ballet. But Kazuha only squeezes your hand again, the warmth of her gaze never faltering.

"You definitely are grand and bright." Kazuha smiles gently, sliding her bowl aside as she leans over the table to get closer. "Just like the biggest planet of the solar system." She jokes softly, earning a giggle out of you. "But I can see the strength you have. Dancing consistently from the moment before rehearsals began until after them is not something any dancer can do without breaking."

The two of you share a silent conversation through your gaze, many feelings being told and understood between the exchange.

You find yourself wondering back to the moment shared in the dance studio earlier.

Everything with Kazuha felt so perfect.

It truly feels like this connection you two share was made by fate.

Kazuha takes a hold of your other hand, thumbs gently caressing your knuckles. A faint blush took it's place on her cheeks before she spoke gently, her gaze never leaving yours. "And you posses a beauty that's unique for you, just like Jupiter."

Looking down at your joined hands, you feel the skin of your cheeks growing warmer at the genuine compliment directed Kazuha at you. It felt so intimate too.

"Is that what space poetry says?" You ask quietly, looking up at the ballerina with shy eyes.

Kazuha smiled at you, eyes soft as she leaned even closer, her voice just a whisper as she spoke to you and you only.

"That's what I say."

It was quiet for the next few seconds.

Something about Kazuha's tone.

Something about her words.

Something about how she stared at you like you're the most enchanting ballet ever created.

In this moment, the silence felt symbolic. Like a shift has occurred, and you couldn't fight against it.

You didn't even want to.

"We should finish our meal before it gets colder outside." Despite your words, you made no move to lean back and pull your hands away.

Matching her whispering tone, your focus simply stayed on Kazuha, too afraid to pull away and break the moment, too mesmerized by her presence to let go.

"Are you sure you don't believe in destiny, Kazuha?"

She giggles, a soft melody that sounds like the most beautiful composition created. You like her laugh.

Kazuha leans closer, her warm breath gently fanning your face as she breaths out. She seems to ponder over your words, her smile turning slightly bigger as her eyes traveled down to your lips.

"Why don't we find out?"

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thank you for reading!