#amuse free distribution

[inhogf]

Lee Byung Hun, ur teacher [2]

part 1 here · contains: him as ur teacher, smut, p in v sex in classroom, choking, spanking, age gap (reader is a student, byung hun in mid 50s) 1.5k words

“you're sleeping with mr. byung hun, are you not?“ this was practically an ongoing joke between you and your friends, all of them giggling, unable to restrain their crazed and exaggerated expressions as one of them held your test paper in their hand. it was amazing, really— going from failing most of your tests to straight A's in calculus. without a helping hand, as you'd tell them.

you wouldn't want everyone to know you were slutting yourself out to your teacher for bonus marks, would you?

were you doing that only for some extra credit?

the classroom was fairly quiet in a bit, save for the sound of mr. byung hun's marker gliding across the whiteboard. he was halfway through solving a complicated integral when your friend passed you a note: ’correct him so we know y'all arent having sex. xoxo ♡’. it made you snicker at her, before you raised your hand.

“uhm, mr. byung hun, you totally messed that up,” you said, tone dripping with feigned condescension. you leaned back in your chair, arms crossed. you were always a little rebel, weren't you? how could byung hun forget? “you forgot to distribute the negative. kind of embarrassing for a teacher.”

oh you were bold. you caught him off-gaurd. he never would've known you'd act like such a brat after he only fucked you once; it amused him to say the least. you enjoyed riling him up, taunting him despite his frustrated grumbles and groans and the obvious bulge in his pants. he'll roll his eyes at you; something the class caught on to; attempting to hold himself back from admiring and touching your adorable body.

“let's see, shall we?“ he exhaled, stepping aside to rework the equation. the room grew tense as he went through each step on the board, taking his sweet, sweet, time.

“ah, turns out, i didn't forget anything. you, however, overlooked the substitution rule. this part," he'd say, unfazed as a subtle smile crept up his lips, circling the equation. "—is where you went wrong."

the class stirred with soft gasps and muffled laughter. byung hun paused, walking up to face you, before crossing his arms. your cheeks were burning up. not because of the embarrassment, no— but because of byung hun. he'd punish you. you made him thrilled.

“detention after school for you, stay in my class afterwards. feel free to brush up on substitution rules while you’re at it, you'll need them for the test next week.“

you were a brat begging to be tamed; but byung hun had self-control, able to hold himself back from re-enacting his fantasies onto you right in front of all his students. the hunger that festered in the pit of his stomach, beating with an erratic pulse and growing in restlessness. he has to push back the hanging reminder that he was hard, dick pressed against his suit trousers with a leaky tip. you'd think he'd have a hard time getting his dick up, his aging evident from the way the corners of his eyes crinkle every time he smiled— but no, all it took was you teasing him in front of his class.

it wasn't long before byung hun's hands slid down to your ass as the last of his students left the class, pulling you flush up against him, the raw intensity of his emotions— the restraint he had let go of, the vulnerability he now laid bare.

“you know what you were fuckin’ doing to me back there, yeah?“ he wasted zero time in shifting his belt open, tugging a finger to the waistband of his boxers as he fumbled his dick out; making it spring up and slap against his abdomen before taking his shirt off. anger filled his veins today, and he decided he'd needed to take this anger out into someone. more specifically, you. “you need to be punished.“

you don't mind. your gaze was smitten to his contoured body— his chiseled chest, huge shoulders that are the perfect leverage, his.. huge dick; so so perfect for his age. was he on steroids? that's insane. byung hun kept himself somewhat shaven, as you noticed. he doesn't have a lot of hair, but he has a trail of black hair running up his sturdy abdomen, as well as around his crotch. pretty little thing, you'd think to yourself before your teacher snapped you out of your thoughts.

“up, baby,“ byung hun said oh so hushed, pulling you up by your ass and bending you over on his desk— pages of assignments flying everywhere. his fingers would rub against the wet patch of your panties, tracing your folds and oggling at them. practically drooling as he tore your panties off. he spread your soft folds with such expertise while looking between your eyes and your pussy, begging to push inside. it made you wonder, how many women had he fucked before? did he even have a wife? kids?

his thick cock sat stiff in front of your pussy, tip so red and garbles of pre-cum drooled at the sight of your bare pussy spread out for him. it's hard to get used to the feeling of being pried open and split apart by byung hun, the splitting sensation of his boner being pushed into you. his hands would wander all over your bare, naked skin. so so so greedy. he wanted to have you whole; not knowing where to touch your body next. he pushed deep into your slit and let out breathless, guttural groans. taking him was painful, the sheer length of him foreign to your organs. you've only ever had sex with, what, two men? and both their dicks were tiny.

“i'm risking going to jail for you, slut..“ he snapped his hips forward, a gasp escaping your puffy lips as he bottomed out in the first thrust. byung hun held a finger to your bottom lip, before the hand trailed down your chin and grabbed onto your neck from behind, pressing it to restrict your airflow. it was such a tight, snug fit. it had you squirming. he left zero spaces open to waste inside your pussy. no holes for even air to fucking enter. your pussy was stretched to the max by his big fucking cock, your juices dripping down your thighs to the wood of his desk, wetting them. “so good, daddy..“

each thrust he made with his hips caused a grunt to slip from his throat. he huffs, groans out at the sensation against his covered bulge. “you're a needy thing, you know that?” he chuckles when he sees your fucked-out eyes, beyond desperation as your orgasm pools at your sweet cunt, desperate for release.

“s-so big-!“ you’re a whore, a blubbering mess, both legs hooked around his hammering hips whilst your arms kept a tight grip on his burly shoulders. you whine, mouth open as moans and ‘more's’ pour from it. his dick continues rutting into you, splitting your pussy apart in such an animalistic way it had you seeing stars— a pool of steam gathering down at your lower abdomen.

you were certain an orgasm on the brink edge of releasing was close, but when he spanks your ass as punishment, all it did was make him even hotter. “자기야 [baby].. you take my cock so well, but can't handle a slap? you need a roughening up, my dear...“

and the way his accent turns more prominent against your ear and his hot breath against your neck, it was all too much for a dumb, crying thing like you— unable to control the way your pussy uncontrollably clutches onto him, forcing him to shoot his potent, hot load of inside your puffy hole.

“i'm gonna.. fuck— i'm cumming..“ byung hun said as his pretty eyes grew half-lidded, strands of sweaty hair falling to his forehead as he shut his eyes completely, ropes of thick cum squirting from his still-swollen tip as he pumps you full. so full in fact, that he's actually pumping his cum out of you because you’re overflowing with his seed.

and once byung hun was done fucking a brain-numbing orgasm out of you, and fucked his own deep into your womb, he'd settle you down on his chair, your head lolled to the side as he finished slipping his softening dick back into his boxers— his eyes admiring your pretty state. you were so adorable like this.

his phone would ring as he fixed his tie, the contact reading ’Principal’ as you giggled to yourself— you knew he was in trouble all because of you. ♡

cr @inhogf dont steal

[arandomao3user]

. . . F-#&# YOU!

*Makes AU where Alfred brings Julia Pennyworth over to raise alongside Bruce after the Wayne's died, but I don't know anything about Julia Pennyworth outside she has Daddy issues and mad skills.*

—

Look, I just think it'd be neat if they were the same age and Bruce and Julia grew up together as siblings and Alfred was a good Father to both of them and probably didn't get Bruce therapy but it's fine because he is a single Father of two—

Kid! Bruce: I will avenge my parents deaths when I am older...

Kid! Julia, promptly sticking her foot in his face as the less traumatized sibling: REVENGE MY FOOT!

Kid! Bruce: AAAAAALFRED!!!!!!!

—

Adult! Bruce, as Batman: I am vengeance, I am the night... I am—

Adult! Julia, as Bumble-Bat (chosen after the Bumblebee bat, the smallest bat breed, small like pennies, I don't know, someone think of a better name—): THE DORK KNIGHT! BOOTMAN!

Bruce: I literally hate you.

Julia, mocking: I literally hate you!

—

Bruce, showing up with Dick:

Julia, who stayed home from the circus sick: Dude.

Dick, pointing to a chandelier: Can I climb that?

—

Bruce in his teens left to begin training to become Batman while Julia focused on her studies, knowing someone had to keep their poor Father from having a hart attack while Bruce ran around the world training. Julia learnt how to use a gun and became skilled in computer hacking, she also is a master in stealth and can operate air crafts (look to canon skills, man...)

Julia later joined Bruce near the end of his training, surprising him by showing up and declaring she wanted to work alongside him and be a vigilante. Bruce was less than amused.

—

Dick was a total Father's boy, shut up, Dick was Bruce's annoyance, Jason however adopted by Bruce, was all his aunts child.

Julia: . . . Don't tell Bruce and I'll teach you to shoot one of the big guns.

Jason, gasping: REALLY!?

Julia: I did when I was your age, not a big deal.

Jason: YES!!!

—

Jason, knocking on Julia's door: Auuuunt Juliaaaaaaaaa, I need help with my math homework!

Julia: Ask your Dad!

Jason:

Jason: AUNT JULIAAAAAA!!!

—

Julia: My Dad let me have my first beer around your age.

Jason, thirteen: REALLY!?

Julia: Sure, why not?

Jason: YES!

*30 minutes later...*

Jason, head in a toilet bowl, crying:

Bruce: JULIA, WHAT IF HE HAS ALCOHOL POISONING!?

Julia: I DIDN'T THINK HE'D DRINK THAT MANY!

Bruce: HOW AM I GONNA EXPLAIN THIS TO HIS SOCIAL WORKER!?

Jason: I don't feel so good...

Julia: I mean, I owe you fifty bucks no?

Jason: Nice...

Bruce, wondering when he had to he the responsible one:

—

Julia: Why do you get all the Robin's? Maybe I want a Robin.

Bruce: No, he's mine.

Julia: Dad! Bruce isn't sharing his Robin's!

Bruce: He's my adopted son!

Julia: He's my adopted nephew!

Alfred: Children, please...

Jason: Would I have to go by Bee Bird if I was aunt Julia's sidekick?

Julia: That's actually cute—

Bruce: No, we aren't sharing.

Julia: Buzz kill. Total. Buzz kill.

Dick, from the background, snickering:

Bruce: PUN NOT INTENDED!

Julia: It was, actually.

—

Bumble Bat! Julia, kneeing a trafficker in between the legs:

Robin! Dick: That one probably stung!

Julia, giggling:

Bruce: Please, stop.

—

Julia, THE stealth Queen prior to Cass:

Tim, holding a camera:

Julia: Is it my turn for the sidekick distribution system?

Tim: I have... I have parents...

Julia: BATMAN, I GOT ONE!

*Tim was returned to his home but Julia never forgave Bruce for not letting her keep him*

—

After Jason's death

Julia, holding Bruce's hand and leaning on him while they stand in front of Jason's grave, holding an umbrella in her free hand as rain falls down on them: It wasn't your fault, B.

Bruce:

Julia: He knew we loved him.

Bruce: He didn't...

Julia: He did.

Bruce: What if he hated me? In those final moments, what if he hated me?

Julia: He didn't, Bruce, he didn't... He loved this family. He loved us, and we loved him, so much...

Bruce:

Bruce: I wanna stay out here for a while.

Julia: I have time.

—

Bruce, a week or so after his parents deaths, curled in a corner and refusing to eat:

Julia: Bruuuuuuucie, c'mon, it's dinner! You're gonna get sick if you don't eat.

Bruce: I don't care..

Julia: Well, I do.

Bruce: Well, I don't.

Julia:

Julia: Guess I get all Dad's cooking then! :D

Julia: AND dessert.

Bruce:

Bruce: But... But I want dessert...

Julia: Y'know Dad's rules! No dessert without supper.

Bruce: . . . Fine, but I'm only eating a little bit!

Julia: Fiiiine, picky.

—

After Jason dies Bruce is super from killing the Joker by Superman, but Bumble Bat had no issue with killing, she had no traumatic experiences, her parents were alive and well, and she doesn't hesitate to find the Joker and kill him five times over. Julia doesn't hesitate to rip off her cowl and scream for him to look at her, see her and see the face of the woman she took everything from, the man who hurt her family and HER brother, she doesn't hesitate to use the same crowbar to leave indents on the Joker's face, to leave him gurgling on his own blood and still drop to her knees to slam her fists into him till he's dead with no hopes of returning, and even then she screams into the night and begs for her nephew back...

—

Julia and Bruce have a brief falling out after he finds out she killed the Joker, him arguing they weren't judge, jury, and executioner and that it didn't do anything. Julia argued she wasn't trying to play either three rolls, but let Jason rest soundly in his grave... She ran off for a hot minute to train solo in various countries, eventually landing in Hong Kong, where she coincidently finds Cass and saves her from David Cain's idea of Fatherly love and trains her as her own side kick, Black Bat.

—

Julia returned home, once, briefly to make her disgust over Bruce training Tim clear, and again permanently when Jason is revealed to be alive and resenting Bruce for not being the one to avenge him. Julia rekindles her relationship with Bruce and Jason, though Jason and Bruce remain on rocky waters since Jason refuses to kill. Julia doesn't move back into the manor though, instead settling down in a penthouse with Cass to continue training her and being her Mother figure.

—

Cass and Jason both love Julia. Cass however doesn't agree with her morals, more so aligning with Bruce's, and loves Julia, but is THE petty cousin toward Jason.

—

I just think it's neat. (Feel free to add whatever you'd like to this AU, I am just obsessed with the idea of Julia being the happy sunshine sister with Bruce being the grumpy, sad brother and just. That dynamic.) (This AU is public domain, please, don't make me write it.) (Go crazy.) (Please don't flop and please like this idea as much as me.) (IT HAS POTENTIAL, MAN!!!)

—

[imorynn]

𝐀 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡’𝐬 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 ( a. harkness)

𝐰.𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.1k

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 / 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 : FLUFF, mild possessiveness from agatha, her being a softie, gift giving, touches, kissing

𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲 : @cafekitsune !!!

a / n : I just yearned agatha fluff and Valentine’s Day <3

🎧 : R U Mine / Arctic Monkeys

Agatha Harkness was never one for benevolence, not entirely. Not since … well, given her history. And yet, here she was, her touch coming in contact with your skin like silk caught in a snare. She was not just looking at you, she was consuming you, like she was figuring out how you functioned, every pulse of your heart fiddling in time with the tiny spasm of her lips.

Agatha’s heartbeat thrummed low and unrelenting, a hidden pulse beneath the surface of her calculated charm, a rhythm you had come to recognize too perfectly. It resonated in the propinquity you shared with her; being felt against your back as you lay draped across her chest, her long, deft fingers tracing down over your arm. The two of you reclined on her worn velvet chaise she had placed in your living room, bathed in the glow of dim, flickering candlelight that cast shadows dancing along the weathered walls of your home. The aroma of vanilla, rose petals and crushed lavender whirled within every corner of the room, yet Agatha’s potent fragrance was the sole one that inebriated you.

“Comfy, darling?” she purred, an octave low, jesting, though there was an edge of something tender woven in it. Eased beneath the outline of her jaw was your head, the dark tendrils of her hair cascading her shoulders brushing your temple as she exhaled when you nuzzled deeper into her, the sound conveying a rare note of contentment.

The weight of her arm across your waist was grounding, protective in its silent strength, and yet even then still idle, as if even this proximity did not require the effort of pretense. That was Agatha’s way, was it not? Calculated without seeming to try, her sharp edges softened just enough to let you in.

Her touch ascended along your skin with purpose, blunt nails just grazing in a way that made your breath cut short. You inclined your head to glance up at her, catching the hoists at the end of her lips. “There’s that sound I like,” she murmured, amusement sparking in her tone.

“Agatha…” you voiced, more so a sigh than a protest, and her smirk warped into a pretty grin when you told her to do it again. Not a second of the day goes by without the lightest of contact with her, always savoring every touch she gave your being and she could never truly deny you the privilege, so of course she more than willingly agreed. There it was, that sound of acceptance, that feel of content that she chased when with you, it is what she savored; to gratify you.

“Patience, love,” she teased, letting her fingertips ascend, brushing the line of your collarbone. “You’ll ruin the surprise.”

“Surprise?”

She hummed, noncommittal, and shifted beneath you, pulling her free hand from behind her back. In the curl of her fingers was a small, intricately carved wooden box — dark, weathered, the type of memoir that sustained tales you might never fully be aware of.

“What’s this?” You gently pushed off her and sat up slowly between her legs, curiosity overtaking you. The box was cold to the touch, its grooves fitting perfectly in your hands. Agatha watched you, her gaze heavy-lidded and heated, her expression inscrutable yet for the faint quirk of her brow.

“A gesture,” she bluntly uttered, but her smirk told you there was more, there was always more. Agatha did not distribute it simply. She thrived in the shadows, the layers, the spaces where meaning twisted and doubled back on itself.

“Go on,” she prompted, tilting her chin. And you did. She had anticipated the perplexion washing your features; she could not help the bloom of affection within her chest.

Inside was a stone — an ethereal depth of swirling amethyst, bound in an elegant twist of silver filigree. You could feel the vague surge of enchantment emanating from it, subtle but undeniable.

“It’s a charm,” she softly stated, almost reluctantly, as if the admission cost her something. “A protective one. For you.”

“For me,” you repeated, uncertain if it was a question or statement. Your fingers brushed over the smooth exterior of the stone as her words subsided into you.

She leaned back, resting her weight on one elbow, her other hand coming up to push away a stray lock from your face. Her eyes, sharp and knowing, glinted in the low light. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” she queried as if the answer was written in the air between you.

The words sank into your chest, and the heart confided in your ribcage tightened at the significance behind the gesture. “Always,” Her expression deepened at the hopelessness in your voice, something menacing flaring her eyes.

Agatha chuckled, low and obscured, her head shaking as she tilted forward, her fingers grazing the gentle angle of your jaw. “Good, bunny,” she muttered, her voice dousing into something velvet-soft. “Because now, wherever you are, you’ll feel me. And I’ll feel you. Like a tether.”

Her voice was sweet, lowered, a velvet ribbon entwined and tightening around you. She was never benevolent, but this — this was close. This was hers.

Your gaze lowered back to the charm in your palm, the faint thrum of its magic resonating the fervent rhythm of her heartbeat against your memory. “Thank you, Agatha.”

She tilted her head at those wide eyes that granted her the closest thing to experiencing purity, her smirk softening, her face contouring into something almost fragile, transparent. “Don’t mention it.”

The moment stretched, her gaze locked on yours, a dance of challenge and possession like she was daring you to say anything other than what you felt. Instead, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to hers, and for a moment, she melted into you, all sharpness and wit dissolving into something tender, something she rarely let anyone see. The corners of her mouth curled and you took a moment to admire her beauty. Magnificent, breathtakingly so. You kissed her, lips taking you higher than she ever thought to be possible.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you breathed against her mouth.

She pulled back just enough to meet your enamored gaze, frost-kissed irises glimmering with something you could not quite put a finger on just yet. “Happy Valentine’s Day, darling. Now don’t get used to this,” she quipped, her signature grin returning in full force, her mask slipping back into place. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

But the way she abruptly tucked you back into her frame and kissed you this time — scorching flames and smoke, something burning, something alive, something hers — spoke otherwise.

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

@batboysappreciationweek Day Six — Jan 17th

𝑺𝒐𝒍𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: me once again not naming reader's and Rhysand's children, or Cassian's and Nesta's daughter — oopsies. Also forgot my original plan halfway through, so there's probably a couple inconsistencies

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 1.2K

“Happy birthday, Feyre.” You murmured with a soft smile, giving your dear friend a one armed hug, as the other arm was cradling an infant. Your daughter. 

She offered a small smile, carefully returning the hug, her free hand coming up to caress your daughter's cheek gently. “Thank you. . . I hope you and Rhys didn't do too much this year.” 

You gave her a knowing look and hummed softly, the twinkling fae lights glimmering in your eyes like captured starlight. “We did what you asked. Nothing elaborate. I promise.” You smiled, hearing the three Illyrian males arrive from their traditional Solstice escapades. 

“Where's your son?” Feyre asked after a few moments of silence, finally pulling away from the hug to look at you. 

“The last I saw, Elain took him to decorate the sugar cookies.” You replied with an air of amusement, just as the door opened. Rhysand kicked the snow off his shoes at the door before entering, heading straight for you. 

“Ah, two of my favorite ladies right here.” He crooned, cupping your cheeks with his cold hands, making you shiver slightly as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “Happy Solstice, darling.” He muttered against your lips.

“Happy Solstice, Rhys.” You murmured in return, pressing one more kiss to his lips before you pulled back and gave him a look. 

“Go warm your hands up.” Your gaze traveled to Azriel and Cassian next. “All three of you. Now. . . We'll open gifts once the three of you are warm, and once the kids are finished decorating cookies with their Aunt Elain.” 

“Yes ma'am.” Rhys smirked, kissing your forehead and your daughter's before he sauntered off with Cassian and Azriel following close behind. 

You watched in amusement as Cassian slipped into the kitchen, presumably to check in on the progress of the cookies, and snag a couple to hold over until the large dinner you helped prepare.

Within minutes, every male in the house was beckoning everyone to the living room. . . Well, every male except Azriel and Lucien. 

When you entered, Rhysand was practically holding your son back from the large pile of presents where he could clearly see his name written on several gifts wrapped in shimmering blue paper. 

Cassian and his daughter looked just as excited, Nesta's pointed look being the only thing that was keeping both her husband and daughter from pouncing on the gifts beneath the thoroughly decorated tree. 

“Uncle Lucien to the rescue.” The male with fire-red hair hummed quietly as your daughter reached her tiny, chubby hands towards him. 

You passed her over to him with a small smile, listening as he quietly spoke to her, declaring himself as the favorite uncle. A title he and Cassian were unknowingly fighting over. 

You quickly settled on Rhysand's lap. The arm that wasn't actively being used to hold your son back, wrapped around your waist and his lips pressed gently against your shoulder. 

“Release the terrors.” He murmured in amusement as he finally let your son go, the boy immediately going for the gifts marked with his name.

You laughed softly and Cassian snorted, standing from the couch just in time for his daughter to slide to a stop in front of her gifts that were wrapped in silver, marked with her name. 

The two older children began tearing into the presents, Cassian going around and distributing the other wrapped gifts to the adults in the room, before settling back on the couch, his arm draped over the back of the couch with his fingers tracing lazy circles on Nesta's shoulder. 

Azriel sat in an armchair, watching the scene with love for the two excited children swirling in the depths of his hazel irises. The corner of his lips twitched imperceptibly, threatening a smile when your son's gasp of glee met his ears, followed quickly by the squeal of excitement from the girl. 

They had both opened his gifts at the same time.

Rhysand let out a low whistle when your son held the gift up towards you and your mate, flashing a bright grin as if he had just won the jackpot. 

He may as well have. 

Both children got daggers that were currently fake, but they would shift to be the real deal as their skills improved. The gift had been cleared with both sets of parents, several times before they were even purchased. 

“What do you say to your uncle Azzie?” You mused, flashing a grin at the Shadowsinger who momentarily looked annoyed at the use of the nickname, before both children yelled out thank you's. 

It didn't take long for the children to open their gifts. The completion of that part then prompted the adults to open their gifts. 

You hid a smirk as you knew the chaos that was about to ensue when the Illyrian males opened the gifts from you, Feyre, and Mor. 

Mor hid her grin behind the mug of spiked eggnog she was sipping on, while Feyre was struggling to hold back a laugh. 

“The three of you have to open these ones together.” You tapped the bottom box in Rhysand's lap that was wrapped in red, as you shifted to sit on the floor, somewhere between Feyre and Mor, to watch the moment from the best seat in the house. 

Identical boxes sat in Cassian's and Azriel's laps. 

Rhysand raised his eyebrows and shifted the boxes so the one on the bottom of his pile was now on top.

You and your two closest friends watched with bated breaths as they opened the gifts. 

It was amusing to watch their reactions shift from confusion to shock, and then amusement or, in Azriel's case, a look that screamed ‘what did I do to deserve this?’

You couldn't hold back your laughter as Rhysand and Cassian held up what had been in the boxes, Azriel reluctantly following behind with a sigh. 

Each male held up a pair of identical black lounging pants, though each pair was different in their own way. Each pair had their names on the ass in silver glitter. 

Cassian set down his three unopened gifts and practically ran out of the room, returning a few minutes later, proudly wearing the pants that had been gifted to him. 

You laughed harder, your legs subconsciously crossing as you leaned up against Mor's chair, so you didn't fall over. 

“Yeah, jokes on you little Miss High Lady, I love them.” Cassian struck a pose, pointing at you. Practically the whole room bursted out into laughter. 

“Good!” You managed to get out as you finally began to calm down. “Oh, gods.” You chuckled, wiping the tears of laughter from your cheeks. 

“I'll give you your gift later.” Rhysand announced casually with a sly smirk in your direction.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach involuntarily, though you raised your eyebrows, your gaze subtly shifting between your two children, before your attention landed back on your mate. 

“Ah. . . The gift that keeps on giving.” You laughed softly. 

His smirk broadened; Cassian let out a low whistle. 

One Solstice a few years back, that very same gift resulted in the conception of your son. . . The same gift on Starfall the year prior resulted in the conception of your daughter.

So it was, indeed, the gift that kept on giving. 

[wyvernest]

tú eres mi vida

( part 1) (next part)

pairing: miguel o'hara x wife!reader

warnings: a lot of fluff, suggestiveness, foreplay?

summary: with the opportunity of a surprise, miguel makes the most of your honeymoon

He walked away from the hammock with you, hanging over his shoulder, ass in the air, making sure to keep a large hand over it, both to conceal you from wandering eyes and to grope at the plump flesh every now and then.

All you're seeing is the beaten path through the shore's sand and the junction between the beach and the hotel's green gardens. He skips the alley leading to your room, your eyes widening in amusement. You know he's good with directions, as long as you're talking about the spider-verse. Otherwise, in the blissful comfort of your honeymoon, you may have caught him further away from the stoic, attentive leader he's gotten used to being.

"Miguel, baby, you missed it. It's that way." you giggle lightly, tapping his lower back, careful enough not to make him feel bad. The last thing you want to do is blow off his mood.

"I know." His tone is confident, teasing. Your chuckles are silenced abruptly at the reply, utter perplexity taking over you. All the places and facilities around the resort flash through your head one by one, none fitting for what you were intending to do. And you haven't discussed love-making in seawater yet, either.

"Where are we going then?" you inquire, after throughout accession of all possibilities.

"Paciencia, cariño. It's a surprise." He reveals, full of pride and excitement, voice lowered and playful. You shiver, gripping into his waist to support your upper body and look around, scanning for said surprise.

He gets to the entrance of the private beach, still not stopping. With a sudden jump, he hops on the pier, your weight secure over his shoulder. You can't deny the wetness gathering in your panties at the thought of how effortlessly he carries you around, showing everyone that you're his, and most importantly, that he's about to make the most of it.

You watch the waves crashing softly against the darkened wood of the pier, clear and cold. You feel the breeze blow up over your bare thighs, shivering. He runs a hand over the exposed skin, up underneath the fabric of your flimsy skirt, stopping shy of the small mound of your cunt. You squirm slightly, needing his touch up higher, but he retracts his wandering hand and tightens his grip over you.

Finally, he reaches the water bungalows. Small huts connected by piers in a web-like distribution. Your eyes fixate on the king-size bed sheltered by wooden walls on all sides, except for the one facing the sea. Open and free, white curtains flowed by the bed frames, carried on the wind's wings like sails on a ship.

His knees hit the bed before he lays you down on the soft, clean, white mattress, his back facing the open view. You shift under his shadow, scurrying back towards the bed frame, watching him crawl over to you, slow and methodical.

He grabs your ankles faster than the time it would’ve taken you to escape and rile him up further, pulling you under him so that he’s straddling your hips, holding you in place. You lift yourself on your elbows, attempting to move your legs out of the cage, gazing up at him.

“What d’you think?” He asks, toying with the elastic of your skirt.

“I’ve never been happier.”

You drop your head back down on the bed, having stopped fighting the impossible hold he’s forced you in, between his muscular thighs. He smiles sweetly, satisfied with himself.

“It’s been almost impossible to find one of these available. But now that I have you here,”, he bends down, an inch away from your face. His hot breath fans your mouth, and you take it all in, the scent of him, the fresh bedding, the sea breeze. Your eyelids fall heavy, and he closes the gap between you, kissing you slowly, unhurriedly, like you have all eternity to spend together in paradise, and you’re just getting started. And maybe that’s exactly what it is.

You taste his lips, strawberry sweet and ever loving, feeling your eyes roll back at the sensation. He cups your face with one hand, holding you from fainting, and you let him lead. You feel his body move against yours, yearning to be closer and closer. His happy trail rubs onto your stomach, skin to skin. Every ridge of his defined abdomen pushes down onto you, chest rising and falling with each breath.

Struggling to keep up with the kiss, you sense his hands drift lower, to your waist, and you flinch ever so slightly, muscle memory kicking in. You mentally pray that he won’t–

And he does. He resumes his earlier attack, tickling you and abusing all the sensitive and funny spots he knows so well.

You scream through the uncontrollable laughter, fragments of his name that he otherwise hears in a different context, but which he adores nonetheless. His grip loosens momentarily, and you slip away like a cobra in desert sand. Before you can manage to get up and make a run for it, he grabs onto your skirt, his talons ripping through the material, leaving you in your shirt and panties. You protest, but he’s quick to drag you back on the bed. He laughs wholeheartedly, pinning you to the white sheets. You’re more than certain that the racket can be heard from miles away, but you couldn’t care less.

In an attempt to shield yourself, you bring your arms to your sides, tears already rolling down your eyes as you’re running out of breath and energy. He stops, and squeezes his thighs around your waist. You’re not leaving.

As he gathers the white sheets, pulling them over you both, you try to ignore the weight of his half-hard cock that’s now resting on your midriff. Or not.

You run your hands up his burly thighs, over his hip bone and up his abdomen, feeling the muscles ripple with his movements. He gives you a knowing look, bringing the sheet over his head, trapping you in a semi-transparent cocoon.

“Who’s gonna see us? The fish?”, you manage to say, feeling the remnants of an explosive giggle kick back in right after you’ve calmed down.

“I’m not taking any chances. There are speedboats.” he mumbles, as he adjusts above you.

“They’re not allowed so close to the-” he cuts off the rest of the sentence, slamming his lips onto your once again, and just like earlier, he has you melting in his arms in no time. It’s almost embarrassing how he manages to surf you through emotions so quickly and effortlessly, but you blame it on the beauty of being utterly and irrevocably in love. His lips move against yours with expert ease and precision, stopping every now and then to breathe, barely breaking away, as your exhales mix together in desperation and fascination.

You wrap your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist, basking in the heat of his body radiating down on you. A groan reverberates in his chest at the action, resulting in him moaning in your mouth.

You continue to make out in the cool shade of the bungalow, sheltered from the blazing July sun, and every second you feel like it’s the first time again, butterflies in your stomach, heart about to burst.

When he finally parts from you, chest heaving, eyes half lidded, you feel as if you’ve been cut from a lifeline. He moves to your flushed cheeks, the kisses are open-mouthed and slow.

“Te amo. Tu eres mi alma”, he kisses below your temple, “mi corazón-”, he moves to your jaw and right below it, “-mi vida.”

He licks at your neck, kissing the sensitive skin with insistence, pressing himself closer to you.

“Y siempre lo serás.”

link to part one!

translations:

paciencia - patience

tú eres mi alma - you are my soul

y siempre lo serás - and always will be

a/n: ill do a part 3 i actually love this whole honeymoon idea:) i hope its at the very least a bit original with the bungalow and all that

ALSO if you're a native latin spanish speaker please correct me im here to learn and write him as well as i can<3

+thank you everyone for the AMAZING feedback ive received for the first part!! i really hope you like this one and the next just as much

taglist:

@cooch1ecruncher @nvkdjnvjkd @tsukkie-daisuke @noahspector

(it won't let me tag everyone, sorry if i missed you)

[lunarsturniolo]

Body Shots | Frat!Chris

Not in the same universe as Pillow Talk Chris. Just another Frat!Chris au lol

Thank you @querenciasturniolo for proofreading!! This is longer than most of my fics, and there was no way I'd be able to properly check for mistakes.

I nod slightly, my fingers fidgeting with the button of my pants, “You gotta stop moving,” he says, making me still. 

He hums a nod at my obedience, his mouth widening into a smile, “Look at you,” he says, “So pretty.” 

My hand starts twitching again, a sign of excitement. Chris gently takes my wrist with his free hand and holds it down at my side, “You gotta stop.”

My eyes widened slightly in surprise, and I nodded again. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

Chris nods, “It’s okay. Just stay still,” he teases.

or

Chris teaches Y/N how to take body shots (and it escalates)

Warnings: alcohol use, unprotected sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), praise kink if you squint, cnc if you don’t read carefully. MDNI

Masterlist

“Hi,” I gave a sweet smile over the bar, “Can I please have another shot of tequila?”

Chris was working the bar today. After an overwhelming Wine Wednesday and a slightly unsuccessful mixer on Thursday, he didn’t want to go too overboard at the party his frat was hosting. So, there Chris was, working behind the makeshift bar, pouring shots and distributing Truly’s to the girls who were still there. 

It was nearing 3 am, and the crowd was beginning to die down. Chris overheard my request and nudged the other bartender, “Got it,” he said, effectively switching places with him. 

Chris leans over the bar, his left forearm resting in a few drops of alcohol as he leans closer to me, “You gonna let me take one with you?” 

I look up at him with an innocent smile, “It’s gonna cost you.” 

He barks a laugh in my direction, “You’re literally in my house,” he says. 

I nod, “I am.”

“So you should be giving me somethin’.”

I give Chris a long look and leave a pregnant pause, “I might be open to something.”

Chris pushes himself off the bar and disappears into the kitchen. I take the moment alone to look around the house. I spotted my friend Kylie, whom I lost to a group of girls about 10 minutes ago when No Hands started playing. With a bit of flair, I watch as the DJ starts to play Sexy Bitch, “How fitting,” Chris says, finding his way back to the counter. 

I roll my eyes with a small smile playing on my lips, “What do you want?” 

“Wanna do body shots?” he asks with a smirk playing on his lips. He holds up his right hand. He was still carrying the bottle of Jose Cuervo. But now, in the palm of his hand, I see a lime peeking out. 

My smile falters slightly, “I’ve never done a body shot.”

“Has anyone done one off of you?” He asks. 

I shake my head, Chris’s eyes widening with amusement. “First time for everything,” he mumbles. He reaches under the bar, producing a wild berry Truly and passing it to a girl behind me that I hadn’t noticed. 

“Who said I wanted to do a body shot?” I tease. 

Chris shrugs, “You want to do one. I know you.” 

I fold my lips in on themselves, “Okay. Teach me.”

He smiles victorious. “Do you wanna get on the counter?”

I look around once again. The room, by far, isn’t crowded, but there are people here you know you’re going to see again. 

“Do I have to?” I finally ask, “It’s kinda embarrassing.”

“Why would that be embarrassing?” Chris deadpans. 

“Because everyone can see me.”

“Who the fuck cares?” Chris says, “Now get on the counter, or I’ll spread you out myself.”

I decide it’s in my best interest to get on the counter. I step up into the kitchen before hoisting myself up onto the counter. Chris tells me to lie down, so I oblige. I can feel remnants of the bar from the night staining my bare skin and weighing down my hair. I cringe slightly at the thought before turning to look at Chris, my cheek resting on the cool surface of the bar. 

“So, there are two routes I could go,” Chris begins, “I could pour this into your belly button and take the shot out of there, or I could just use a shot glass and call it a day.” 

My eyes widened, “Yeah, can we do the second one?” 

With a chuckle, Chris nods in agreement. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinkin’, too.” 

He turns around and quarters the lime over the sink. He reaches across the bar, hovering a lime wedge over my face. He taps it gently against the parting of my lips, “Open up for me, yeah?”

I nod and widen my mouth, softly biting into the lime, a bit of juice rolling into the back of my throat, “Good girl,” he commends. 

I roll my eyes, a slight mumble emitting from the back of my throat due to the lime I’m holding, “Shut up,” I tell him.

Chris gently guides my hands down to my sides and nudges my hip, “Can I lift this up a little?” 

I hum a reply, the lime starting to become a proper hindrance. Chris gently tugs at my shirt, making me arch my back so he can lift it to my breasts. My hands itch at my side as he plants a series of wet kisses, making a line from right under my belly button to the waistband of my pants.

A blush forms on my cheeks as his nose nips under my pants, raising the waistband slightly and giving him a view of the black lace panties I had worn to the frat tonight. 

He reaches for the salt behind him, grabs a small pinch of it, and sprinkles it over the slight sheen of saliva that is left behind. “Squeeze my hand if you want to stop,” he tells me, putting my hand in his. 

Using his free hand, he grabs a small orange glass and flips it upright. He laxly pours a double shot of tequila into the glass, watching me wither under his gaze. 

My right hand landed on my stomach, tapping a pattern next to the line of salt, trying my best not to make a mess around me. The music is still going, and I’m sure Kylie is about to text me, telling me she found a guy to go home with. Chris is still distributing drinks to the girls who are coming up to the bar, and I’m sitting with a ball of anticipation in my stomach.

He returns to me with a shy smile, “Sorry, mama, I’m here for real.”

I nod slightly, my fingers fidgeting with the button of my pants, “You gotta stop moving,” he says, making me still. 

He hums a nod at my obedience, his mouth widening into a smile, “Look at you,” he says, “So pretty.” 

My hand starts twitching again, a sign of excitement. Chris gently takes my wrist with his free hand and holds it down at my side, “You gotta stop.”

My eyes widened slightly in surprise, and I nodded again. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

Chris nods, “It’s okay. Just stay still,” he teases. 

He gives me one last look before leaning down, his tongue making contact with my stomach. I flinch at the contact, slightly unexpecting, and Chris looks up at me through his eyelashes. 

I drink in the sight of him, remembering every detail as his hands push me down against the table. His hair has fallen over his eyes, the dark ringlets tickling my stomach with his painfully slow movements. 

Chris lets go of my left wrist, his hand taking hold of the shot he poured. My newly free hand moves without thought, entangling itself into his hair, tugging his further up my body in anticipation. 

He hums out a moan with a taunting smile on his face as his tongue dips into my belly button, lingering for an extra moment. The salt sticks to his tongue as he brings the shot glass up to his lips, wrapping them around the glass before quickly throwing his head back. His jaw flexes as he stretches his neck, and I watch as his Adams Apple moves as he swallows. 

Chris squeezes my hand as he swallows the bitter flavor, his lips coming down for mine to grab the lime. In a moment of weakness, I suck the lime further into my mouth so he has no choice but to graze my lips with his. 

As anticipated, Chris’s lips make lingering contact with mine. His tongue pokes out and wedges itself beneath my lip and into my mouth, grabbing the bottom of the lime and pushing it into his mouth. 

Moving back slightly, I keep him from moving any further with a hand in his hair. With hooded eyes, he looks at me as he bites into the lime, some of the juice falling into my mouth and some of it dripping down his chin in a sensual manner. 

He turns his head slightly, silently asking to move. I let go of his hair, and he turned his head, spitting the lime out of his mouth and onto the kitchen floor. He looks at me with a smile, “Do you still want your shot?” 

“Will it also be a body shot?”

“Whatever you want,” He tells me. 

I pull his hand in between us, guiding his ear to my lips, “What I want is to go to your bedroom.”

Chris looks at me, “Beg me.” 

“Please, Chris, I wanna go to your room.”

He smirks, “Again,” he tsks. 

I roll my eyes in annoyance, “I’m not begging.” 

“Then you’re not getting in my room,” he replies. 

I leave a long pause before letting out a big sigh, “Please, babe? Can you take me to your bedroom?”

He hums in acceptance, “What do you wanna do in the bedroom, mama?” 

I look at him and swallow harshly, “I want you to touch me.”

“But what do you want to do?”

My voice wavers into a whisper, “I want to take a shot off you,” I tell him. 

“Mmmm, that’s a good girl,” Chris says, “Always telling me what you want.” 

I blush, and Chris moves away to start cleaning up the kitchen. I see him gather a new shot glass, a lime, and some salt before helping me off the counter with a hand on the small of my back. 

Together, we walk towards the staircase that’s slightly blocked off- he keeps a hand on the small of my back, nodding a slight hello as we pass his friends. 

He lets me in front of him when we get to the stairs, watching my backside as I make my way up, stopping outside his room and waiting for him to unlock it. 

With a quick twist of his wrist, the key had unlocked his door, and he led me into his bedroom, sitting on his bed with his knees apart. I made my way closer to him, standing between his knees and giving him a shy smile.

“Can you take your shirt off?” I ask him. 

He nods, his hands falling to the hem of his henley, pulling it off in a swift motion, “Where do you want me?” he asks. 

I cock my head as I look at him contemplatively, “Maybe just lay down.” 

He nods and does as I say, “Can I, um-” 

“You want me naked?” he asks.

My cheeks turn hot at his words, “Can I take off your pants?” I ask him. 

He laughs at my shy demeanor, “You gotta get naked for me too, then, ma.” 

Without a second thought, I drop my hands to my jeans, fiddling with the button before allowing them to pool at my ankles. His hands find the hem of my shirt, this time, pulling it over my head gently. He rests his hands on my back before letting me unbuckle his belt.

“Chris,” I whine lightly.

“Yeah?”

Instead of replying, I push him down onto his bed. His head stayed propped up by some pillows, and he brought his hands behind his head so he could watch me. The two of us were naked, and I finally decided to let the looks of him sink in. 

His cock was sporting a healthy erection, just as arousal was beginning to pool between my legs- we were clearly both turned on. 

“C’mere,” he says, motioning for me to step towards him. “Wanna see if my baby’s worked up for me.” 

I happily make my way over to Chris’s head, legs spread slightly for him to feel my cunt. Without a moment's rest, the pads of his fingers made their way to my bare skin, feeling the warm, plush skin and rubbing my clit slightly to create some friction. I moan lightly at his touch before he pulls his fingers away and rests them on my bottom lip. 

“You wanna taste yourself for me, mama?” he asks. 

I dip my chin as a nod, his fingers now resting on the parting of my lips. My tongue darts out at his long digits, coating them lightly as I taste myself on his fingers, making Chris moan in appreciation. 

I hollow out my cheeks before taking his fingers out of my mouth, a small smile growing on my face. 

“Gonna use this on my stomach, okay?” he asks, referring to the fingers I had in my mouth seconds prior. 

Wordlessly, I nod as Chris drags his fingers down his happy trail- from the bottom of his belly button to the base of his cock- at an agonizingly slow pace. My eyes watch his fingers desperately as they mimic the exact path my tongue will take. 

I clear my throat, “Salt?” I ask. 

“Yeah, baby. Add some salt.” 

I took the metal salt shaker that made its way onto his nightstand and used it to disperse salt into a thin line along his body. Chris reaches under his bed and produces a bottle of tequila, “From my stash,” he informs me. 

I laugh, filling up a shot glass most of the way, feeling slightly overwhelmed at the thought of taking another double tonight.

I pick up a lime wedge and hand it to Chris. Dismissively, he sets it back on the table, “You won’t need that. Promise,” he tells me, a hand making its way into my hair and pulling me close to his mouth. 

I can feel his breath fanning on my face as I study his eyes up close for the millionth time tonight, “Okay,” I agree. 

Chris hums with satisfaction, “You’re such a good, obedient girl for me, baby. Always listening to me so well.” 

This time, I hum in reply, the praise making me feel extra warm. “I wanna listen to you, Chris,” I tell him. My lips pucker up slightly before placing a small, aromantic peck on his lips.

He smiles at me, “Good idea, baby.” He lets my hair go loosely, allowing me to lean back. “You’re gonna tell me if anything is too much, right?” he confirms. 

“Yeah, Chris. I’ll let you know. You get to use me until I say otherwise.” 

I watch as a satisfying grin spreads on his face, “You’ve always been my favorite girl, you know?” 

With a small laugh, I bring my face down to be level with his naval. He gathers my hair into a makeship ponytail in one hand and holds my shot glass for me in another, “I need to see you, mama.” 

I smile, my tongue darting out to lick my lips, “Okay.” 

Looking at Chris out of the corner of my eye, I bring my tongue to the beginning of the line of salt, licking slowly down to the base of his cock. My left-hand finds his balls, fondling with them lightly as I make my way down to his cock. 

He lets out a moan, “When you get there, keep your tongue out, baby. I wanna feed you your shot.” 

I turn my head towards him, giving him a slight nod, my tongue still working its way down his body. Giving the base of his cock a light kiss, I tilt my head up for Chris to pour the shot. 

Feeling the alcohol glide down my throat immediately, without the need to swallow or for a chase, made me gag lightly. I closed my mouth, savoring the flavor of salt on my tongue before Chris moved my head. 

Directing me down further to where his cock is, he rests my cheek on his left thigh. My tongue darts out, lapping around the base of his cock as my hand continues to play with his balls. 

“That’s right, baby,” he praises me, “You can get up on the bed if you want.” 

With a nod, I crawl up onto the bed, my mouth moving from the base to the tip. 

I begin slowly licking the tip, watching the precum develop, and swallowing it as it comes. With a keen fascination, I loosen my jaw and begin to put his cock into my mouth. 

Chris lets out a groan, “Fuck.” He reaches around his body, one hand finding my breasts. He rolls my nipple between his fingers and fondles my breasts, eliciting a soft moan from the back of my throat and around his tip.

I continue to push his cock into my mouth before I gag lightly and call it my limit. My hand jerks off what is left outside my mouth, and Chris begins to lose it. 

His hands are tugging at my hair, and he is gently pushing my head forward onto his cock, loving the way my throat closes around the tip when I gag. Chris was in a state of euphoria. 

“You good, mama?” he chokes out, pulling me off his cock slightly for reassurance. 

Instead of verbally answering, I push his cock further into my throat, humming a reply, sending vibrations up through his body. 

My tongue flatted against the underside of his cock, my head moving faster as I prompted Chris to fuck my mouth. His thrusts grew from wary to forceful as I began to gag, drool, and moan around him with each movement he made. 

Tears grew at the brim of my eyes from the intensity, “Do you like it when I’m rough with you, mama?” 

Unable to reply, I affectionately squeeze his thigh, “I know, baby. It feels so good to please me, huh?” he says. His hand leaves my nipple, entangling it into my head roughly so he has more control to ride out his orgasm.

With an especially deep thrust, I let out a long groan, my eyes rolling back slightly with satisfaction. Chris’s cock begins to twitch in my mouth, and I instinctively hollow out my cheeks, sucking harshly on his shaft. 

Chris looks down at me with a smile, “I’m close, mama, I promise. Then I’ll fuck you good as a thank you.”

I nod, my voice significantly hindered by his cock lodged in my throat. With a final few thrusts from Chris and a gargling noise that arose from my mouth, he emptied himself into my mouth with a loud, resonating moan. 

Giving me a minute to recover, he slid his cock out from my mouth and found a water bottle on his nightstand to feed me. 

With a smile, I look at him, “I love having your cock in my mouth.” 

With a small laugh, he rests his hand under my chin, wiping away some cum that didn’t quite make it into my mouth, “I love fucking your mouth, baby.” 

I bite my lip in excitement, allowing him to use me as he chooses one again. 

“Lie down, hmm?” he asks. 

I do as I'm told, taking his spot on the bed as he straddles my body. He leans down towards the mattress, his lips finding my cunt. I can feel his breath fan across my body as he begins to lap his tongue in a circular pattern, hitting each part of my cunt. 

Unceremoniously, his teeth begin to nip at my clit, creating the perfect amount of friction to make me moan out loud- probably loud enough to be heard over the music playing downstairs.

“Chris, please,” I beg.

“What, mama?” he asks, coming up for air with a small pant. His lips were wet and puffy from the time he spent attacking my clit, and I could see a bit of my arousal begin to make its way down his chin. 

“I need you inside me, please,” I whimper. 

Chris hums, sending my hips upward with a jolt. The action makes him laugh, which in turn does not help my squirming, “I’ll get inside ya,” he promises. 

With one last feathery kiss to my clit, he sends a series of kisses up from my naval to my lips. By the time he has reached my lips, there are drops of my cum trailing up my body as a result of my cum dripping off Chris’s chin. 

He leaves a few soft kisses on my lips before I bring his head to mine, holding it there while I nip at his bottom lip. He smiles, sliding his tongue into my mouth and allowing me to take control of the kiss as he adjusts himself against me. 

I feel the tip of his cock poking at my entrance before he slowly buries it into my cunt. I let out a gasp, my jaw falling slack as Chris’s tongue laps at the inside of my mouth, trying to regain my attention. 

“C’mon, mama, I know you can take me,” he tells me. 

“I can take you,” I parrot back. 

“Yeah, baby,” Chris agrees, “You’re doing so good.” 

He stills for a moment, and I look down between us to see his cock has filled me completely, and he’s allowing me a moment to adjust. I grind my hips against him, my clit rubbing against the base of his cock, making both of us groan. 

Looking back up at him, I give him a quick peck of encouragement to start thrusting again. He gently rolls his hips before slowly pulling out and roughly pushing back in. 

He began to make this a rhythmic approach, filling the silence between his skin and slapping on yours with a series of breathy moans and chants of both of your names filling the room. 

Chris kept his mouth atop mine and intertwined our fingers as he continued to fuck me.

My mouth fell open, and I felt my pussy begin to quiver around his large cock. My orgasm was blinding, leaving me gasping and moaning into Chris’s mouth, giving him ammunition to go faster and harder.

With his bed rocking underneath us and the sound of wet skin repeatedly hitting each other, Chris finally released into my tender pussy. 

Pulling out slowly, his hand brought mine to his mouth, leaving feathery kisses on each knuckle. 

“You okay, mama?” he asks, “Do you need me to get you anything?”

With a shrug, I reply, “Can I please have another shot of tequila?”

[itsabouttimex2]

I hope this isn't an odd question

But, do you think Wukong or Macaque would act or treat different their "cub" if they genders were swapped or being a female version? This is also for a Yan behavior

I don't know too much about how is the raising of a monkey from the father and mother so I was curious with this since they're both mystical demons

I was thinking about this when I saw some fanarts from the artist @/car_nimbus on Twitter, they made a neat versions of the characters with another gender

Monkey Mama

(Hmm okay let me build a hypothetical OG “Female Monkey King” to work off of here and then I’ll try to translate that into LMK’s SWK. Also, I’ll probably make a second variation of this afterwards with other characters, haha. This got a little long to do both SWK and Mac!)

Sun Wukong as a character is already heavily defined by rebellion and personal choice, so I think that making him a girl only really compounds that layer of his character.

In many older narratives, female characters are often expected to be more obedient or modest than men, and very frequently only exist as prizes or, more rarely, villains. A female Sun Wukong; assuming she plays the same role as her original incarnation, defies the expectations of how “traditional” women should behave, shirking the demure and passive “ideal” and adding another layer of rebellion to her character.

(JTTW is actually pretty great in terms of female representation, with characters ranging from the perpetually good Quanyin, the eventually repentant Princess Iron Fan, and the straight up evil White Bone Spirit. I’m a big fan of how the women aren’t slid into any one “role” throughout the story.)

I think: in story, she’d likely be viewed as a sort of “anomaly”—a woman too strong, too outspoken, and too unwilling to conform to typical feminine ideals. Her defiance and arrogance might be viewed as even more scandalous by the Celestial Realm.

Instead of being made a “stable-keeper”, I think probably she’s sent to whatever Heavenly Scullery exists in that divine realm, and put to work very quickly. She would treat this “job” with indifference or even amusement at first-after all, physical labor or menial tasks don't diminish her self-worth or confidence! She’s had a life of hard work, leading an army of Yaoguai, cultivating Flower Fruit Mountain,

So she’s fine with this… at first. Then it turns out that the food she makes with her fellow low-class workers isn’t distributed amongst the people making it, but plated up nice and pretty for a bunch of “stuffy old gods” who didn’t lift a finger! Bullshit!

So obviously, the prideful Monkey Queen goes on a destructive rampage in regards to the unfair disparity of treatment, then storms back down to Earth to throw a “feel-better” party with her fellow Yaogaui.

(Which isn’t just a party, but a symbolic reclaiming of joy and community, with her monkey tribe representing the freedom she craves and the earthly bonds she prefers over heavenly authority. It's not just an escape, but a statement of independence.)

After an extensive set of repairs, the Court sends down someone to drag her back, because, you know, the local super-powered monkey is back on the loose, and that’s not exactly great for them. This time, they offer her a “better” role- she gets to become an official Peach Maiden, lucky her!

Of course, it’s just another form of entrapment, but within a prettier cage. Even though she's given a cushier position, it's a veneer- she's still being silenced, controlled, and stripped of her freedom. The role played by a Peach Maiden is an inversion of Wukong's essence, as these women are happily serving the role of passive caretakers, nurturing with gentle smiles—a direct contrast to the free-willed, brash nature of the Monkey Queen.

(And while there’s nothing wrong with being demure, passive, and feminine, having people try to force her into that role is where Sun Wukong draws her line.)

Here, she is expected to watch in silence as others revel in the freedom and power denied to her. It's a different kind of prison, one that quietly erodes her spirit. When the Celestial Court tries to reintegrate her as a Peach Maiden, they are once again attempting to place her into a docile, decorative role, one that strips away her power and independence. Those immortal peach orchards, a symbol of immortality and divine favor, becomes a prison for her.

Surrounded by "ideal" women who embody the quiet, submissive role she despises, the Monkey Queen finds herself chafing under the pressure of conformity. Her energy, once boundless and chaotic, is now caged, and the simmering resentment builds.

The buildup to her inevitable rebellion after being made a Peach Maiden, then, becomes a very sympathetic moment because it's not just a rejection of the role forced on her, but a rejection of the very system that tries to diminish who she is at her core. Her rebellion isn’t about anger and shame- it’s about reclaiming her true self after having been suffocated by the expectations of the Celestial Court. Her rampage becomes an assertion of her identity as something that can't be confined by heavenly rules or social mores.

The Court, in its attempt to “contain" her, only fuels her defiance further, leading her once again to rebel.

It was never going to end well. But it ends all the same, and punishment is to be levied to the Queen, just the same as any other rebellious rule-breaker... actually, probably harsher.

There’s “you broke our rules and tried to lead a coup”, then there’s “you did all that, and we also find your very person to be wrong on a fundamental level”, and then she gets the book thrown at her twice over.

But! Then she meets Tang Sanzang, who sees something in her that neither the Celestial Realm nor her own band of Sworn Brothers saw. Not a heretic simian savaging a holy realm. Not a Queen to rally behind for their own gain.

But a lost soul in need of guidance.

And from there the Great Monk works on building Sun Wukong up as a person instead of leading her astray or trying to cut massive chunks of her personality out? And talks to her about the things she cares about? And teaches her about all the things she missed after spending five hundred years under a rock?

And then she meets Zhu Baije, who starts out a little too happy and carefree about having a beautiful woman around, but eventually comes to smash open heads when Wukong is disrespected, because that’s not just a hot woman, that’s his sister?

Or Sha Wujing, who helps her with even the smallest things, from trimming her claws to cutting her wild hair to preparing meals for the monk? And lets her perch on his shoulders and head so the queen can get some skinship in?

Then Ao Lie, who is every bit the “disappointment to the world at large” that she was considered? And they take turns braiding each other’s hair and wiping the mess from the other’s face, and sleeping in the same tent and same bedroom because it’s less effort?

She gets a dad and three little brothers?

She gets a family.

And then loses it and is alone again for several hundred years more.

So if we go with this theoretical “My natural existence has been rejected for being seen as ‘improper’ by a court of stuffy traditional assholes” and then “I dearly love/miss my dead found family” angle, I think she’d be portrayed as a very different sort of character in LMK.

She’s quicker to lash out and defend herself, and much less willing to sit around and let the world pass her by- because that’s what was demanded of her by the Celestial Realm.

Be good. Be quiet. Be demure. Be obedient. Be anything except you.

I don’t think she’d be as willing to “rest on her laurels” as her canon counterpart, given that a “quiet boring life” was what she had fought so very hard to escape in the first place, so instead of isolating herself from the world in the first place, she probably sets up a little “souvenir shop” at the foot of Flower Fruit Mountain, taking a human form to sell little knick-knacks that herald to the journey she undertook with her old friends.

In part, this is how Wukong works to honor them. To spread their legacy. To ensure that they aren’t forgotten, left as a footnote in the annals of history. To remember them.

In part, it’s how she justifies all the mistakes she’s made and the suffering she’s been through. Settling in to a pointlessly relaxed life is exactly what she fought against, after all. She’s heavily fallen into the “sunk-cost fallacy”, where giving up and settling in, to her, means “losing”. It means “everything I went through was all for nothing”. So she keeps at this little store instead of just retiring and isolating herself from the world, even though she’d be happier to ditch it and lounge about.

So when MK and his eccentric bunch of friends comes around with their boundless energy and mischief, she immediately goes, “Oh, okay! This is what I wanted!”

(It’s not. All she’s ever wanted is her friends back. How could there be anything else?)

The Monkie Kids are vibrant, eccentric, and full of qualities that immediately resonate with Wukong. They remind her of the energy, camaraderie, and sense of adventure that she once shared with her old companions. She sees MK's arrival not just as a chance to teach someone a few of her old tricks, but as an echo of her own life—a life she hasn't been able to truly let go of.

So she starts projecting- on the surface, MK is very much like her. He's spirited, good-natured, and curious- and reckless. Just like she was. Wukong latches onto this quickly, sort of using the kid as a proxy for herself. After all, if she can't go back to her old life, why not embrace a new one that feels close enough? In some ways, this marks her refusal to accept the passage of time, a desperate clinging to the hope that, through MK, she can rekindle the connections she once cherished.

However, underneath that initial enthusiasm is the repressed understanding that MK, despite his similarities to her younger self, cannot truly replace what she lost. The friends she fought beside, the battles they waged together, and the lessons they learned are unique, irreplaceable moments in her life. No matter how much MK’s gang reminds her of the past, he and his friends a stand-in for the companions she still longs for. But her deep desire to reconnect with her old friends clouds her ability to see MK for who he truly is: his own person, on his own journey.

It takes her a while to get to that point, though. So she’s more doting and affectionate, in a way that somewhat stifles her student’s training because she wants to be both her old carefree self and also a good mentor, and the two just get jumbled.

Sidenote: I think with the difference in actions and behavior, MK would be more open to viewing Fem!Wukong as a parental figure than the OG, especially since he doesn’t really have someone to fulfill that “mom” role.

For their dynamic, I think something like this would be the outcome:

———————————————————————-

The afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, painting the landscape in hues of varied orange and blue. With a tired hand, MK wipes the sweat from his brow.

He’s perched on one of the rocky spires dotting Flower Fruit Mountain, gazing at the view with a small smile of accomplishment. Training had been intense lately… if only because he had been doubling down on the time he spent practicing, without giving as much care to rest or aftercare.

After all, even though his powers were blooming steadily… his enemies also were growing in power and quantity, leading to the ever-creeping edge of fear that anything less than a constant one-hundred percent just wouldn’t be “enough”.

And right as he reaches back to grab the golden staff he has inherited from the Monkey Queen-

“MK! I told you to take a break, not run off to do more training!”

Her voice, uncharacteristically sharp, cuts through the formerly tranquil air, causing MK to jump. He turns just in time to see Sun Wukong strolling toward him, her hands on her hips and a look of mock annoyance on her face.

MK grinned sheepishly, shifting his grass-stained boots against the dirt. “I was just, you know… checking out the view.”

She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement as her eyes narrowed in annoyance. This kid... “Uh-huh. Checking out the view or sneaking in some practice when I wasn’t looking?”

Caught fast in his lie, MK rubbed the back of his neck, face scrunching up in embarrassment. “Maybe a little of both?”

In spite of herself, Sun Wukong quietly laughs, the sound echoing like a chiming bell through the mountain. Her long, golden hair flowed behind her in the wind, each strand catching the light like molten fire. Despite her legendary status- the rebellious warrior who’d fought the heavens and nearly won!- there was a warmth to her that MK had come to cherish.

“All work and no play, MK,” she said, sitting beside him on the rock and ruffling his hair with a fondness that always made him feel like a little kid again. “You’ll burn out before you get anywhere.”

He looked at her, eyes shining with admiration. “But you never stop training. You’ve been at this for centuries! I just…”

A pause, as his chest turns over, unsettled by the notion of opening up. But… it’s the Monkey Queen. So it.. should be okay, right?

“I want to make you proud.”

Sun Wukong’s expression softens, and she wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling the boy close in a tight embrace. “You already make me proud, kid. You don’t have to prove anything.”

MK leaned into the touch, feeling a wave of comfort wash over him. Even from the start she’d been like this with him- protective, nurturing… and maybe a bit overbearing at times. But he didn’t mind. It made him feel safe, like no matter what challenges lay ahead, he wasn’t alone.

MK chuckled, turning his face up to meet his idol’s eyes.” I’ll keep up,” he triumphantly declares, pumping a fist.” I promise.”

“Good.” Wukong shifted, her clawed hand lightly missing his spiked locks. “Now, how about we head back to the shop and grab something to eat? You’ve earned it.”

MK’s stomach growled at the mention of food, and he nodded so eagerly that she wondered if his head wouldn’t ache from the motion. “You know, I won’t say no to a good meal.”

The Monkey Queen stood up, dusting off her mentee’s clothes before offering him a hand. “Of course you won’t. C’mon, my treat.”

———————————————————————-

Now, to answer your question about how she acts in regards to her own cub… in general I think she’s much more doting than the OG, willing to express herself through constant displays of physical affection, in ways that are far more varied.

Constant forehead smooching, cuddles, grooming sessions, all of it! Mama Wukong never wants to let go of her baby! Sit down and let her paint your nails! Let her comb and braid your hair! Let her make you a nice lunch (loaded with mystical drugs to keep you nice and sleepy for extra cuddles), or at least a filling snack! Let her pepper your face with kisses as she spins you in her powerful arms!

Lots and lots of indulgent fluffy days of binging unhealthy foods and watching cozy reruns of old shows, your head in her lap as she hums and does up your hair with her lazy hands.

Lots of reminiscing about old suitors as she considers the quietest and quickest ways to kill anyone who makes the futile attempt to pursue you in the same way.

Despite her obsessive behavior, Wukong struggles with conflicting feelings about wanting her child to be strong and independent, just like her! She pushes you to train hard and become powerful, but when you inevitably seek their own freedom or autonomy, she’d experience a mix of pride and heartbreak, pushing her deeper into possessive tendencies.

If you ever tried to leave or even just start to break away, Wukong’s worst traits would bubble up like hellfire. Just as she fought against an entire realm’s authority, she would absolutely wage a war to keep her child close, all while justifying her actions as love.

The Monkey Queen is also more willing to take routes outside of brute force if it means securing extra protection for Y/N. If Macaque or maybe Azure (or someone else like Erlang Shen) wants to try and play “suitor”, well, she’s not too interested… until the thought arises that having him around makes you extra safe! And then she’s willing to think on it.

(That’s assuming that you aren’t one of their biological kids to begin with, in which case there might be a sort of “yandere triangle”. Azure/Macaque/Erlang Shen doing his damndest to reclaim his wife, before he learns that she’s had a child while he was gone... or maybe Pigsy and Tang decided that MK needs his mentor in a more ‘accessible’ position, and plot to drag her to Megapolis…)

Lots of potential monkey mama shenanigans, basically!

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗪𝗔𝗧𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗

　　　　　　　　　𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒚𝒍𝒆𝒔 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N loves reading the books Harry buys for her, and Harry loves watching her read.

WARNING: None.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N sighed contentedly, making herself comfortable in the armchair she was sitting in the living room of her house, the new book Harry had bought her the day before was open in her hands, her eyes running over the words on the yellowed pages as her head moved slowly to the light beat of the music playing from the record player.

The golden hour sun hit her legs folded against her chest, warming her.

Her attention was so focused on the story that Y/N didn't hear the front door open and close seconds later, much less the sound of keys being hung right next to the entrance and the sound of a bag resting on the floor.

Harry opened a smile when he saw his girlfriend sitting so comfortably in the living room of their house, taking off his Adidas sneakers and placing them against the wall next to the door, walking towards the woman.

Finally, Y/N raised her head in surprise when she felt a presence behind her, looking at Harry and relaxing instantly, closing her eyes when she felt the brunette's lips against her forehead.

"Hello my love, are you enjoying the book?" Harry asked quietly against Y/N's hair, as if he was afraid to speak loudly and burst the bubble they were both in.

"Uhm, the story is super engaging." She responded in the same tone, pushing her head back until she rested it against Harry's chest, which he sighed in appreciation before slowly pulling away.

"I'm going to take a quick shower, do you want some tea?" The singer asked her, taking his cap off his head and beginning his slow walk to the stairs, ready to step into the hot shower.

"Yes, please." Y/N replied with a smile in her voice, turning her eyes back to the book.

A few minutes later, Harry was coming down the stairs again, now wearing only cotton pants and white socks, the smell of soap trailing behind him as he walked towards the kitchen.

His hands, now only wearing the promise ring he shared with his girlfriend, worked on turning on the stove to heat the water while he picked up two small cups with flower designs that Y/N joked that looked like her grandmother's, but secretly loved them.

Harry fetched the tea bags from his favorite brand, distributing them into the two cups, walking to the stove to pick up the kettle that was already whistling, turning off the heat and filling the cups with the right amount, before putting the kettle back in place and picking up the teas carefully, walking slowly to the living room.

Y/N looked up again as she heard Harry approach, seeing her boyfriend place their cups side by side on the coffee table before walking over to Y/N, lifting her into his arms with ease, his muscles momentarily appearing more in his arms, before he sat where Y/N was seconds before and placed her on his lap.

"I still don't know how you can do that." Y/N spoke with an amused expression, looking at Harry's greenish field.

"I train every day so I can treat you like the princess you are." He responded jokingly, making his girlfriend laugh and roll her eyes.

She arranged herself on Harry's thighs, bringing her feet to rest on his knees so that her own thighs were against her chest, the book resting on them and being held upright by one of her hands, while the hand with the painted nails in pink and with the promise ring circled Harry's nape, running her fingers carefully through the hair on there.

Harry raised his left hand so that he held the free side of the book, preventing it from closing, while his right hand rested on her back, drawing small circles in the area. Y/N smiled in gratitude, bringing her face closer to Harry's and planting a lingering kiss on his stubble, enjoying the feeling his small hairs made against her moisturized lips.

"I love you." Harry whispered, enjoying the act of affection.

"I love you more." Y/N responded, pulling away a little just so she could kiss him on the lips lightly, just a touch of lips, exhaling and enjoying the smell of soap and men's shampoo that surrounded him.

The woman backed away a few seconds later, turning her face forward so that she could see the page completely, going back to delve into the story, smiling small when she felt Harry's eyes on her face, analyzing her carefully.

The only sounds filling the room were their light breathing and the melody coming from the record player, which Harry accompanied sometimes, warming Y/N's heart.

This was her home, and she wouldn't trade Harry's arms for anything in the world.

[rahuratna]

Nanami Kento: Relationship Headcanons (now a fic), Part 3

Contents: pre-relationship headcanons, slow burn, pining, humor

For a few days after that, things continue as normal. Nanami meets you at work on some days, on others he's exceptionally busy with missions and paperwork. The dynamic from that day has receded, but not vanished. It feels a little like reaching a wonderful part of a book and shelving it temporarily, because you cannot bear for it to end. When you return to it, the pages will fall open naturally, close to the place where you left off.

You've stopped pretending, at this point, that your meetings with him were chance ones. You know full well when he is likely to take his breaks and that they always coincide with when you take a later shift. It is one of the many small things that seem to be spiralling out of your ability to maintain control over in recent days.

Even with all of this, the actual progression of your ... interaction (you don't feel brave enough to call it anything else) is a very slight one. You chide yourself for behaving like an immature love-struck idiot. You've always prided yourself on your ability to remain calm and objective about things, which is why this change is so ... terrifying. How can a man so composed himself be the harbinger and creator of such feelings in another person? It defies logic.

Then, one day, he sends you a message. It comes while you're at work, busy handling requisitions for new materials for sorcerers. You've been expecting an email from a contact in the supply and distribution department, and so casually slide your finger over the message before freezing. His name. Exactly as you'd saved it on your contact list.

Nanami Kento.

The message is simple:

"Hello. Please send a clean-up crew. I've attached the location."

A map co-ordinate has been attached, along with a picture. Puzzled, you open up the photo. It shows a warehouse, stacked with boxes and crates. Something had obviously occurred in that warehouse. The crates are shattered, as if a huge force had been applied to them, and dark stains are splattered all over the floors and ceiling. If Nanami had asked for a clean-up crew ...

As if in a daze, you call the relevant department and send the request through. You'd dealt with the aftermath of many exorcisms for other sorcerers, but Nanami never usually left such a mess. His efficiency also ensured that he would normally put the request through himself. That left you slightly worried. If the warehouse looked like that, what about him?

Tentatively, you pick up your phone and type a message.

"Request for clean-up team sent. Are you all right? Any injuries?"

The reply comes shortly after.

"Thank you. I'm fine. No serious injuries."

If the circumstances had been different, you might have found it amusing how robotically dry his messages were. The word 'serious', however, is circling in your mind like a vulture. What if he's downplaying his injuries? You'd never dealt with him directly before, so you wouldn't know for sure. Fingers hovering above the keys, thinking of a subtle way to find out, you give a small start as a message comes through, as if Nanami has been reading your mind.

It's another picture. This one is of his hand, large, wiry fingers wrapped around a Styrofoam coffee cup, reassuringly free of blood. You can see part of his suit jacket, draped over his arm.

"I'm not hurt. But I am thirsty."

Good Lord.

In the quiet of your office, you place your forehead in your palm and laugh silently.

__________________________________________________

Nanami had never been one for making idle conversation. His rigid countenance and stern demeanour often made him intimidating and unapproachable, except to those who knew him well. He had always struck you as someone who was supremely and calmly confident in every action he took. Whenever he spoke to you about missions in the break room, there had never been awkward silences or times when he'd seemed at a loss for words. Whatever he's said carried weight and added meaning to the conversation.

Which was why these new developments were such a puzzle to you. Over the past few weeks, there had been incidents where you couldn't make head or tail of his behaviour. It had started with the warehouse clean-up. The next time, it was the mysterious case of the missing homework.

Everyone who worked closely with the sorcerers knew, at this point, that Nanami has somewhat taken Itadori Yuuji under his wing. Unlike Gojo, who was loud, effusive and energetic when he interacted with the students, Nanami gave the impression of tolerating Yuuji's antics. Anyone who knew Nanami a little better could tell that he had a great deal of fondness for the boy.

So, when Nanami came into your office with Yuuji in tow and stopped at your desk, you couldn't help looking curiously between them. Yuuji greeted you with friendly grin and then looked at Nanami expectantly. The latter cleared his throat.

"Good day. I apologize for disturbing you, but I was wondering if you could help us?"

"Of course. What do you need?"

"Itadori has informed me that he's lost his assignment for class this afternoon."

Yuuji shamefacedly produced a battered USB drive and held it out to you.

"Ah, so sorry! But Nanamin told me that since we're passing by here, you'd help me print out another copy?"

"Oh, that's no problem at all."

You smile at Yuuji, who claps his hands together in sincere thanks. You're still wondering why they hadn't made use of the many printers in the student lab on the way here, but soon forget about that when you see the assignment open up in your word processor.

The spelling and grammar ... leave a lot to be desired, to put it kindly. You understand that English is Yuuji's second language, but this assignment wouldn't pass the minimum standards at Jujutsu Tech, where communication with foreign sorcerers was a necessity. You glance up at Nanami, who is eyeing you inscrutably through his tinted glasses. Your gaze tracks across to Yuuji.

"Hmm ... is it fine if I make a few changes? I know that the work should reflect your own ability, but if I explain the errors to you, then it would be the same as you learning and correcting those errors, yes?"

Yuuji's face lights up in a way that leaves you taken aback.

"Oh, yeah! That would be a huge help. Thanks!"

He hops up onto your table, which is thankfully free of the usual clutter, and swings his legs with disarming cheeriness. You take some time to explain his errors, his pink hair fluffing up under the air conditioning in the office as he nods his head earnestly. Within twenty minutes, you've finally made the assignment look far more presentable and Yuuji seems to understand everything you've explained. Nanami watches in silence.

Holding the newly printed copy like a precious treasure, Yuuji waves to you as they exit the office. You laugh and wave back. Nanami pauses in the doorway and looks back at you. He seems about to say something, then changes his mind, bows in thanks and follows Yuuji. You raise an eyebrow.

Curiouser and curiouser.

__________________________________________________

A few days later, you have some time off. You've stepped out of the shower, the scent of your herb-filled window boxes pleasantly filtering into the apartment with the afternoon breeze. You make yourself some tea and check your phone, coming to an abrupt halt when you see a message from Nanami waiting. You feel a rising frustration with yourself. As much as you can acknowledge the hold this man has over you, you wish your reactions to him were less embarrassing.

You close your eyes briefly, allowing the bittersweet pang of desire to well in your chest when you remember how tall and reassuringly solid he had looked, standing next to Yuuji in your office. Gojo couldn't have chosen a better or more trusted chaperone for his student. Having held off for long enough, you open the message.

It's another picture, this time of Yuuji proudly holding up his assignment, a seventy-two percent grade written in the upper corner in red ink. A significant improvement on what he could have scored. A soft smile appearing on your face, you scroll further down to see what Nanami had written.

"Apologies for not thanking you properly that day. I've seen you do crosswords, so I knew that your skill with words might help Itadori."

Ha. Sneaky. So that's why he'd brought Yuuji to you. Your smile grows and then turns perplexed. You've read the tail end of Nanami's message.

"Itadori's assignment was on the common honeybee. If you'd allow me, I'd like to use that information to thank you."

What on earth did that mean?

_______________________________________________________

The next day, you go in to work and find something on your table. A small paper bag of freshly baked honey cakes, the kind you like to buy once in a while to have with tea in your office. You very rarely get the fresh ones, though, as these get sold out very early. There's no note, but you know who they're from.

For some reason, the thought of Nanami going to the bakery so early in the morning and standing patiently in the long queue to buy these for you creates a burning feeling in your chest and a rush of blood in your ears. You look around the office hurriedly, mortified that you've once again shown your reaction so clearly. Nobody is there to see it, thankfully.

Sitting down heavily, drawing the package to you, you stroke a finger down the brown paper, struggling to contain the flood of emotion the small gesture has unlocked.

And then, you remember something. Other things begin to fall into place.

You've never mentioned to him that you liked these cakes. You've never even eaten them in front of him before. Yet, somehow, he knew. Just like how he knew that you're good with words, but more importantly, that you had a soft spot for the students and always assisted them where you could. Just like how he knew that you've been curious about the exact nature of the missions he handles and their aftermath. Just like he knew how worried you were that he could have been injured at the warehouse.

You wonder if a honeybee's sting has ever felt as dangerously sweet as this.

@tsukimefuku @g-kleran @actuallysaiyan @kentocalls

[the-peak-legend-of-first-gen]

You were adapting to these changes reluctantly but eventually. He noticed the subtle shifts—the crimson of your cheeks, the stutter in your speech—but he continued his teasing, playing that relentless game of push and pull.

You two rarely got time alone, but whenever you did, he had to act like a leech. During lunch breaks, you would escape to the terrace, seeking a moment of peace away from his admirers. This was your favorite part of the day because, at the very least, he had the decency to let you enjoy your food. But after school, he was always busy—some club activity, sports practice, or worse, Charles had him running errands like his personal errand boy.

You were busy too, and Charles Choi’s big plan was still a long way from fruition. Still, he made sure to use James until he was exhausted and burned out, extracting every ounce of effort from him. And James, ever obedient, complied every time. It was like he had made a deal with the devil, sacrificing everything—but for what?

You didn’t like it. Truth be told, you were glad you weren’t the only one buried under work, but your heart ached to see him like that. All that pity, however, went out the window the moment he tried to use his lame pickup lines or shove a lollipop into your mouth.

“Diabetes Lee, stay away from me!” you roared, and he cackled like a hyena.

It was fine, in a way. Somewhere at the back of your mind, you accepted it—because at least in those moments, he got to act his age. And it had been happening more often now, thanks to Gun Park and Goo Kim joining your team.

Gun's eyes had frightened you initially, but he was just a guy who minded his own business and stuck to his lane. The blondie, though? A different story. He had so many questions about you, but the one that bothered you the most was, "Are you two dating?"

What the hell? What a narrow-minded guy—just because a boy and a girl were close, they had to be dating? Wow.

But… wasn’t that what you wanted deep down? Wasn’t that what you daydreamed about? When James squeezed your hand in times of distress, when he shared your workload despite being overloaded himself, when his teasing never crossed a line or—

"Who knows?" James had replied, an amused, self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

You immediately whipped around, but he was already gone, leaving a more intrigued Goo behind. You’d deal with this rat later.

Nothing much changed after that, and you were grateful. But ironically, now that work was distributed more evenly and James finally had some free time, you started avoiding him.

You didn’t know why, but your heartbeat quickened whenever he was near. Your palms became clammy. It had been a tiny crush at first, but now you were battling a monster called ‘Hope.’

Hoping that your feelings were returned. Hoping that something might come of it. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, it would be okay.

But weren’t you also hoping back then? When you were rescued? When you thought Sophia would be a kind teacher? When you believed something good would come out of that training?

Hope was a pain. Ugh.

And James, being ever perceptive, picked up on it. One day, he forcefully dragged you out for an impromptu city exploration session.

"Don’t be like that, chief. Who knows when I’ll get free time like this again?"

You sighed, reluctantly tagging along. To your surprise, it wasn’t bad. You visited food stalls, browsed bookstores, and explored everything your budget allowed. When exhaustion finally caught up, you found yourselves in a quiet park.

It was 8 PM. Usually, at this time, you’d be torturing someone, finishing schoolwork, or handling household chores.

This was the first time you had simply hung out.

Well, not the first time—but the first time in a long while. The first time since your parents.

It felt bittersweet.

“Stop.”

You turned to face him. “Stop whatever you’re thinking,” he said firmly.

You blinked, baffled by his commanding tone. “What, you think you can control my thoughts now, Mr. Genius Lee?”

He frowned. “I can when you start getting all melancholic. Don’t ruin the moment.”

Weirdly enough, that made you burst out laughing. “What moment? Are we lovers on a date?”

What did you just say? Were you stupid or something? And why was this redhead grinning like he’d just won the lottery?

You wanted to go home.

“Slip of the tongue! Just forget what I said.” You waved it off, but James Lee was not a man who let opportunities slip by. And he certainly wasn’t letting this one go.

“What slip of the tongue? I’m glad you finally realized it’s a date.”

You froze. What the hell was this dumbass saying? God, please take me home.

“Don’t joke about this,” you muttered, feeling tears prick the corners of your eyes. That damn monster, Hope, was clawing at your chest again. People always gave it to you, only to crush it cruelly.

His tone turned serious. “I’m not joking.”

You looked up at him, wide-eyed.

“Who’s really joking here?” he continued. “A few months ago, you told me not to ignore you, not to push you away. And now, out of nowhere, you start avoiding me?”

You were at a loss for words. So, he didn’t want you to ignore him. Okay. He wanted this to be a date? Checked. That meant… he liked you too?

What the hell.

It had all seemed fine in your imagination. But to actually do it, to actually acknowledge it? You weren’t sure how you felt. You weren’t sad, but you weren’t jumping for joy either.

He was a leech. A horrible tease. Nonetheless…

“I thought what Goo said made you awkward,” you admitted. “That’s why you left abruptly. I didn’t want to create unnecessary tension, so I started avoiding you—not ignoring you.”

The seriousness evaporated from his face, replaced by his usual mischief. “Oh, that’s it? I wouldn’t have minded the tension. And honestly, I should be thanking that money-hungry rat—he sped things up.”

His smirk widened as he leaned in. “So, say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say that you like me too.”

Instead of answering, you kissed him.

Damn it. Hope was a monster, but Chance was its bitter rival—and you weren’t going to miss this chance.

You pulled away first, but not fast enough to miss the slight dusting of red on his cheeks.

Never mind. It was the first kiss for both of you.

You both leaned in again, but before your lips met—

“I didn’t know you believed in such fast service,” James teased.

You wanted to shut him up.

And so, you did. Conveniently. Sweetly.

With both of you smiling between the kisses.

[moncherriecoups]

Muted Hearts

Some love stories are whispered, not spoken. Some promises are signed, not said.

This is ours.

The contract binds, but love breaks free,

A vow unspoken, yet meant to be.

With desperate hands, he pulls her near,

Hoping she will see him clear.

──────────────────────────────

Seungcheol x f!oc | Minghao x f!oc (?)

Tags: tense relationship, idolxoc, slowburn relationship, angst

Word count: 2.5k

──────────────────────────────

Chapter Six

The rehearsal had gone on longer than expected, but no one seemed to mind. Now, the members of SEVENTEEN were sprawled across the studio, surrounded by takeout containers and half-empty cups of iced coffee.

Vernon lay on the floor, arm draped over his face, while Seungkwan sat cross-legged beside him, scrolling through his phone. Mingyu and Joshua were in charge of distributing the food, passing bowls of noodles and chopsticks around.

Seungcheol sat at the edge of the couch, one arm resting on his knee as he absentmindedly scrolled through his phone. The relaxed atmosphere, the easy banter—it was familiar. It was home.

"Hyung, eat."

Mingyu pushed a container toward him, filled with still-steaming tteokbokki. Seungcheol barely looked up, but he accepted it with a muttered "Thanks."

The conversation swirled around them, jumping from their recent schedules to the latest nonsense Hoshi had pulled. It was easy. Natural. But then, Mingyu—always too observant for his own good—tilted his head and spoke.

"You never told us if that someone special finally signed it."

The room didn’t go silent, but the shift was subtle. A few heads turned. Some just glanced up before returning to their food.

Seungcheol didn’t react immediately. He kept chewing, kept his expression neutral. But his heart picked up just a little.

"I did," he said finally. Short. Unbothered.

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Mingyu hummed. "Must be serious, then." His tone was casual, but the look in his eyes wasn’t.

Seungcheol didn’t respond, but he felt it. The weight of that statement. Jeonghan, who had been observing the shift in energy, leaned forward with interest. “An NDA?” His lips curled into a smirk. “Now that is interesting.”

Seungcheol, to his credit, didn’t react outwardly. If anything, he looked almost amused. “Yeah,” he finally said, voice steady.

It was a simple confirmation, but it only made the tension worse.

Minghao’s chopsticks hit the edge of his bowl as he set them down, jaw tightening.

Seungcheol noticed, he watched as Minghao grabbed his phone and stepped out of the room. He didn’t need to ask where he was going. He already knew.

—

The knock on Sua’s office door was sharp. Purposeful.

She barely glanced up from her screen.

"Come in," she called out.

The door swung open, and when she saw who it was, she blinked in surprise.

"Minghao?"

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He was still in his rehearsal clothes, but his expression was unreadable.

Sua set her pen down. "Did something happen? Is something wrong with the piece you bought?"

Minghao let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. "No," he said. "But I should be the one asking that."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

"You signed it," he said. "Didn’t you?"

Sua’s fingers curled slightly.

"The NDA?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Minghao nodded. "Yeah."

Sua leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "And?"

“Are you insane?” He shot back. "Do you have any idea what you’re getting into?"

Sua huffed, shaking her head. "I can handle it."

"Can you?" Minghao’s gaze was sharp. His frustration only grew. “No, you don’t get it, Sua. This isn’t just some casual arrangement—there are consequences. You think you can just walk away from this, back to your normal, peaceful life when it’s over?”

Something in her bristled. “And since when do you care about my personal choices?”

His jaw clenched. “Since I realized you don’t understand what you’re risking.”

She stared at him, searching his face.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked quietly.

His voice firm. "I’m trying to protect you." His jaw clenched before he exhaled sharply, frustration bleeding through his words. "I’ve spent years trying to survive in this world, making sure no one I care about gets caught in the worst parts of it. And now you’re voluntarily walking into it?"

The words hit differently.

Sua stilled for half a second.

For a moment, she only looked at him, the weight of his words settling in.

Minghao was serious. He wasn’t just speaking as a client. As an acquaintance.

He cared.

And yet—Sua still forced a small, dismissive smile.

"I appreciate it, Minghao," she said softly. "But this is my choice."

Minghao exhaled, shaking his head. He looked like he wanted to say more—like he wanted to convince her to change her mind.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned. “I hope you don’t regret this,” and walked out.

Her coworkers later whispered about how Xu Minghao left her office looking more frustrated than they’d ever seen.

And deep down, she wondered why that was what stuck with her the most.

—

It was already past 10 PM.

Sua was in her apartment, curled up on her sofa, the soft hum of the city outside barely reaching her ears. She should’ve been winding down for the night, but her thoughts were still tangled up in the events of the day. In Minghao, to be precise.

His sudden visit to the gallery earlier had left her feeling… uneasy. Not because she was afraid of him—Minghao wasn’t the type to explode without reason—but because his words had gotten to her. The way his usual calm had cracked, the frustration lacing his voice when he confronted her about the NDA. The concern in his eyes.

“I’m trying to protect you.”

Sua exhaled sharply. She hated how it lingered, how it made her chest feel heavier than it should.

So, she did what anyone would do when they didn’t want to think too much—she grabbed her phone and started scrolling.

She wasn’t expecting to laugh, much less because of Seungcheol, but the universe had a funny way of distracting her at the right moment.

A fan edit of him appeared on her feed, the kind that was so well-made it almost deserved an award. It was a montage of Seungcheol in his most adorably flustered moments—ducking away when teased, ears turning a deep shade of red, covering his face with his hands whenever he got too shy.

The caption? “Leader-nim is so shy ☹️💖 protect him at all costs.”

Sua snorted. Shy. Right.

She had half a mind to comment, “y’all don’t know what this man is capable of,” but before she could, a sudden knock at her door pulled her out of her thoughts.

She frowned, locking her phone. At this hour?

When she opened the door, Seungcheol was standing there, looking way too comfortable in a hoodie and sweatpants, hands stuffed into his pockets like he belonged here.

"Didn’t know I was expecting company tonight," she mused, leaning against the doorframe.

"You weren’t," he admitted, stepping past her into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. "But I figured I’d stop by since I was in the area."

"And by ‘in the area’ you mean you drove all the way here, unannounced?"

Seungcheol grinned. "Maybe."

Sua sighed, shutting the door behind him. "You’re ridiculous."

"You like it."

She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, Seungcheol leaning back against the couch, completely at ease in her space.

Then, casually, he said, "So. Monthly meeting this weekend."

Sua blinked. "Huh?"

"Seventeen’s monthly get-together," he explained. "We do it every month, just a little gathering with food, drinks, and talking shit about each other. I want you to come."

Sua hesitated. "Cheol…"

His eyes immediately narrowed. "Don’t even think about saying no."

"I wasn’t—"

"Yes, you were."

She pressed her lips together. "I just… don’t know if it’s a good idea."

Seungcheol exhaled loudly, slumping forward. "Sua," he whined, "please?"

"Why do you even want me there?"

"Because I want you there," he cut in stubbornly. "And if you say no, I will—"

He paused, furrowing his brows before his lips curved downward into a deep, exaggerated pout.

Sua stared. "Are you… sulking?"

"I will keep sulking until you say yes," he declared. "I will not stop. You don’t know what I’m capable of."

"Cheol."

"Mmm. Don’t care. Sulking now." He sank deeper into the couch, crossing his arms like a petulant child. "Oh, wow. This meeting’s gonna feel so empty without Sua. If only she would just say yes. If only she—"

"Alright, alright!" Sua groaned, nudging his shoulder. "I’ll go!"

Seungcheol perked up immediately. "Really?"

"Yes, you big baby."

He grinned victoriously. "See? That wasn’t so hard."

Sua shook her head, laughing softly as she watched him settle back with the smuggest expression.

Then, her eyes flickered back to her phone on the table, recalling the video edit she just watched.

She scoffed.

Shy, my ass. This man is a menace.

—

This month, Seventeen’s monthly gathering was held at a private villa they had rented for the weekend—a cozy yet spacious retreat with warm lighting, plush seating, and a dining table overflowing with an overwhelming spread of takeout.  Chicken wings in different flavors, steaming bowls of jjajangmyeon, a few pizzas, and an almost excessive amount of alcohol and tteokbokki, thanks to Wonwoo’s insistence that they needed something spicy to "keep their blood pumping."

Sua hesitated at the entrance, her fingers tightening slightly around the sleeves of her cardigan. Seungcheol, standing beside her, nudged her lightly. "You don’t have to be nervous, they don’t bite."

"I’m not nervous," Sua lied smoothly.

Before Seungcheol could say a word, a loud gasp echoed from the living room.

"Oh my god."

Seungkwan shot up from his seat so fast that his chair nearly tipped over. His eyes darted between Sua and Seungcheol, widening with each second. "Is this—wait. Is this her?!"

Then, the members erupted all at once, their voices overlapping in chaotic disbelief.

"No. Way."

"Cheol actually brought her?!”

"She’s real??"

Sua raised an eyebrow. “Was that in question?”

Jeonghan grinned. “It’s just—Cheol’s never done this before.”

“Oh?” Sua smirked, turning to Seungcheol. “Never?”

 Seungcheol groaned. “Guys.”

"Hyung actually did it," DK murmured in shock, his mouth half-full of tteokbokki. "He actually brought someone."

Mingyu, who had been lazily sprawled across the floor, suddenly sat up straighter. He glanced at Seungcheol, then at Sua, then back at Seungcheol, before breaking into a slow grin. "Ohhh, so this is the special someone, huh?"

Sua noticed the slight emphasis on special and immediately connected the dots—Mingyu must’ve been the first to figure out about her and Seungcheol.

Seungcheol, meanwhile, exhaled through his nose. "Yah, can you all act normal for five seconds?"

"No," Joshua answered immediately.

Before Sua could say anything, Seungkwan had already linked his arm through hers, tugging her further inside. "Cheol-hyung, step aside," he declared. "I need to personally welcome our guest."

"You’re not the host," Jeonghan pointed out, amused.

"I am now."

Seungkwan pulled Sua toward the dining table, making her sit down in an empty chair right between him and Joshua, Seungcheol followed behind. "You have no idea how long we’ve been waiting for this moment," he said dramatically. "I have so many questions."

"Oh?" Sua tilted her head, playing along.

"First of all, how did you tolerate him for this long?" Seungkwan asked, dead serious. "Because we’ve known him for years, and we still struggle sometimes."

Laughter burst around the table as Seungcheol groaned, already questioning his decision to bring her along.

"Yah," he muttered under his breath.

"More importantly," Jeonghan cut in, smirking, "how did he convince you to come?"

"He sulked," Sua answered simply.

A beat of silence.

Then, the room exploded with laughter.

"OF COURSE HE DID," Woozi said, shaking his head. Seungkwan is currently rolling on the ground, holding his stomach, laughing, as Seungcheol takes his seat beside Sua.

DK was practically wheezing at this point. "Oh my god, I knew he was acting weird today!"

Mingyu wiped a fake tear from his eye. "Leader-nim really out here being a lovesick fool, huh?"

Seungcheol groaned louder, pressing his forehead against the table. "I hate all of you."

Sua watched him suffer for a second before leaning in slightly. Her voice was just loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough that it didn’t draw attention."You’re acting all shy now," she teased, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Like you weren’t wrecking me senseless in my office that night."

Seungcheol visibly stiffened. 

"Sua," he hissed, his ears turning red instantly.

She only smiled innocently, picking up a piece of tteokbokki with her chopsticks. "Yes, babe?"

Seungcheol sat up straighter, shooting her a look that screamed you’re playing a dangerous game.

Before he could retaliate, a sudden shift in the atmosphere made Sua glance across the table—straight at Minghao.

He was quieter than usual. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes—sharp and observant—flickered briefly between her and Seungcheol.

Tension crackled, almost undetectable to anyone else in the room, but she felt it.

She knew why.

Minghao’s gaze lingered on her for a second longer before he casually reached for his drink, as if dismissing whatever thoughts were running through his mind.

But Sua saw the slight tension in his shoulders.

Seungcheol noticed, too.

Still, no one said anything.

Instead, Mingyu clapped his hands, breaking the moment. "Alright, let’s eat before the food gets cold!"

Conversations picked up again, laughter filling the space as the members bantered over food. Seungkwan made sure Sua had a plate full of everything, while DK and Vernon argued over who got the last slice of pizza. Woozi, as expected, remained unbothered by everything, simply sipping his drink.

At some point, Sua found herself relaxing, easily blending into their dynamic.

It was comfortable. Warm.

And though Seungcheol wasn’t the first to bring a girl to their gatherings, the fact that she was here—sitting beside him, watching as he got flustered over their teasing—felt significant.

He wanted her here.

And despite everything, despite the weight of doubts on her, she found herself wanting to stay.

──────────────────────────────

just got time to write! i hope you enjoy this chapter ehehehe. should i add more fluff??

[ilylovelyz]

⍣ ೋ venus as a boy

˚ · . sakusa x afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ first time, loosing of virginity, protected sex, reader and sakusa are in highschool but 18, fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), mentions of masturbation, biting, sakusa is just a pretty boy, venus as a boy by björk is an amazing song love it

his fingers, they focus on her and touches he's venus as a boy

it's quiet, only soft breaths audible so low it's almost a silent whisper. the bed underneath cringes at the weight distributed over it as he moves closer to you. his calloused hands are almost trembling as they gently undo the buttons on your white blouse.

he's nervous. you look up at him with gleaming eyes, an amused smile on your features as you watch your boyfriend of almost two years become oh-so nervous over seeing you naked for the first time. his eyes dart up at you, waiting for your permission while his fingers remain on the last button.

you nod silently, cheeks slightly flushing when the last button finally gives way and his hands are grabbing your blouse at the hems and hesitantly pulling it off, gently gliding it off your torso and sliding off the sleeves for you. your torso is left half bare in front of him, only clad with a black lace bra.

he's visibly blushing, it's cute. while he has seen you naked before, he doesn't really count it, as you were in a swimsuit. his reaction is different, he didn't seem to get awkward whilst you were swimsuit clad because it's just a swimsuit, it's normal. while you admire his respectfulness, you teasingly wonder where his sudden stoicism went.

you think back to the time when you would touch yourself late at night to the thought of your beloved boyfriend. you would theorize and daydream about him, wondering how he would touch you, whether his personality and sense of humor suggests exciting sex.

you let his hands explore and caress your bare skin, his finger-pads pressing and proding curiously at your soft flesh. you silently giggle at the way his eyes try to respectfully avoiding your breasts, not wanting to seem desperate. "kiyoomi it's okay, are you nervous?" you smile, taking one of his hands into your own.

his lips pout with embarrassment, "maybe." he admits, avoiding eye contact with you. your free hand comes up to his nape, laughing at his awkwardness, you bring him down for a kiss. he happily gives into you, his hand traveling upwards to your collarbone and resting on the skin there.

he leans you back carefully onto the bed, his lips still pushing against yours before he's poking his tongue inbetween your lips. you softly moan into the passionate exchange, his chest pressing against yours as his tongue ravishes your own.

it surprises you how gentle he is with you, almost like the first time he hugged you. his touch is barely there. his fingers focus on you and touches. he glides them along your skin, caressing you so lightly it leaves lingering warmth in his wake.

he pulls away from you slowly, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. he looks down at you with those low black eyes of his, he believes in a gentle and beauty, oh, how he is. it makes you almost jealous at his natural beauty, why is it always the men who have long curled eyelashes without trying?

his flushed bitten lips are pursed into a fine line, eyes watching attentively to your reaction as he brings a inquisitive hand up to your breast. he presses his hand almost hesitantly onto your soft mound before feeling more bold and experimentally squeezing with more pressure.

he almost flinches when you softly grunt in response, hand jolting away from your breast. you blink at him with bewilderment, "i-it's okay 'omi. it feels good, actually, you should continue." his hand returns to your breast per your encouragement, other hand coming to touch your other breast as well. he squeezes them once more, fondling them carefully like dough.

his eyes occasionally look up at your face to watch your reactions when he experiments with pressure, touches, and squeezes. he swallows back the lump in his throat when he notices the front clasp of your bra and subconsciously reaching for it.

his fingers remain at the clasp, only unclasping it when you nod at him once more. he feels almost like a child again, almost wanting to slap himself in the face when he feels his cock twitch in the confines of his boxers. he deeply inhales at the sight of your bare breasts, this time, his hands are much quicker to touch them, eagerly squeezing and distributing random pressure to them.

it surprises you when he leans in and attaches his lips onto your nipple, softly sucking and pulling. he lightly huffs at the way you arch your back into him, his sucking getting more aggressive and confident.

"omi," you mewl out, his teeth grazing against your sensitive bud. he's exploring the taste of you, he only stops his assault on your breasts when you paw at his shoulder. "omi, i wanna touch you too."

he feels his heart skip a beat at your confession, eyes left wide as he put together your request. touch him? but it's not like he could refuse, as within five minutes your hands are slowly pulling down his boxers. he's sitting up while your on your stomach on the side of his leg, head close to his lower stomach.

he almost wants to pull away due to embarrassment when his cock finally springs out from his boxers, blushing deeply when it smacks the side of your cheek. you awkwardly chuckle at the little accident, pulling away slightly to get a better look at his cock.

your eyes are wide and full of awe, and perhaps fright? his cock is long, maybe a good 6.7 inches, and reasonably thick. he's neatly trimmed, as expected of someone who is well kept in regards of hygiene. there's a prominent vein on the underside of it, traveling all the way up to his tip, dark and almost a reddish-purple.

he bites his tongue when your hand boldly wraps around the base of his cock, not even wasting a second to pump his length. even though he knew this moment was to come, he still wasn't prepared. how ironic, he thinks. it's ironic for him to feel unprepared as someone who despises disorganization and unpreparedness.

he bites at his lip, holding back a grunt when you experimentally lick at his tip before your lips are attaching to it, suckling and kissing softly. you feel like heaven. it surprises him, the way you're so bold and confident with him. he's sure this is your first time, and yet you almost expertly begin taking his length within your mouth.

though, his assumption is correct when you falter, gagging on his length before allowing his cock to slip out of your mouth to breathe. he sighs with fondness, thats what he likes about you. someone so clumsy and almost aloof, yet determined and willing to lead those also unaware. he remembers the many times you lead him as well through situations he was unwilling to face.

he finds himself huffing when you once again to take him in your mouth, eyebrow raised with awe as you already seem to have adapted a technique. within a short amount of time, your bobbing your head up and down his cock, softly moaning around him while your hands stay attached to his thighs.

his hand comes to grip at your skirt, before finding better purchase on the swell of your ass. feeling a little bolder, he travels a teasing hand down your ass to eventually, your warm core. you jump at the sudden feeling, looking up him with surprised eyes at the feel of his finger-pads pressing against your clothed cunt.

for some reason, you take that as an invitation for a competition as to who can make the other feel better. his fingertips prod at your virgin hole, eyes narrowing when he slowly slides in the tip of his index. you're tight.

you whine at the sudden intrusion, faltering around his cock as the feeling of his index massaging your gummy walls has your mind spinning. you suck him off as best you can, you can't help but blush at your lewd slurping and wet squelches. most of his cock is coated thoroughly in your saliva, traveling down to his balls.

his breathing becomes uneven, sliding in another finger so as to speed up your own incoming orgasm. his fingers scissor you open to as the best he can, knowing that it's going to be a tight fit for later. he halts his movements when you violently jolt when his fingers touch against that spot, not even being able to continue on with your blowjob.

he judges by your lewd and sudden moans that the specific spot is what will pleasure you the best, wasting no time to abuse that sweet spot of yours. you can only weakly lick at his cock, hand pumping clumsily around him.

"a-ah, omi! i'm gunna cum," you mewl, blushing intensely as your free hand claws at his thigh. he can only grunt out as response, feeling his own orgasm so close. his fingers curl inside of you, applying heavy pressure to that sweet spot of yours so deliciously it as you tightening up around his fingers, body tensing and hand suddenly clenching around his cock so hard it unexpectedly triggers his own orgasm.

his fingers are coated in your arousal, so accurate albeit bittersweet, he thinks after surprising you by bringingthem up to his lips to taste you. all across your lips, you lick off his semen, not necessarily being of bad taste.

your legs tremble as you attempt to straddle him, but he stops you quickly, insisting that he be the one to do the work, he's built for it after-all. he's sliding off your panties entirely so as your legs can bend and move freely, spreading your legs. he looks up at you once more while his hand wraps around his semi-hard, condom clad cock, guiding it towards your small hole.

"it's okay 'omi." you breath out, a hint of nervousness within your tone as the heaviness of his cock seems to scare you. finding comfort in your hand, he intertwines your fingers with his. with a heavy chest, he slowly pushes his tip in, almost pulling out when your face contorts into one of pain.

he pulls his upper body close to you, forehead leaning against yours as a sad attempt to make you feel better. he kisses away the stray tears that fall out of your glazed eyes while slowly working his hips in, centimeter by centimeter.

it takes awhile, and a few tears and comforting kisses, but eventually his cock is sheathed fully in you. he's so big, it has you feeling like you can't breathe. the pain soon subsides, leaving you with a feeling deep in your core that has you wanting more.

"kiyoomi you can move now.." you whine, sighing deeply when he slowly rocks his hips out before sliding back in. his cock brushes pleasingly against your walls, purposely pressing against that same sweet spot from earlier.

your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close to you, sending shivers down his spine as you moan out so wonderfully. his ears are tingling with redness at your lewd sounds, face hiding into your neck. his pace picks up by the minute, soon losing himself in the pleasure that is your pussy.

he's already addicted. his hand grips onto your waist, his other wrapping your leg around his waist in hopes of reaching even deeper inside of you. he curses at himself when he already feels the foreign feeling of his impending orgasm, causing you to gasp when he unexpectedly bites onto your shoulder due to the sweet pleasure you're giving him.

"y/n," he grunts out, mind spinning and filled with just lusting thoughts of you, you, you. he's incredibly close, so much so he's almost embarrassed about how quickly he's coming. his embarrassment is slightly soothed when you clench around him so tightly it has him seeing stars. you cum with a loud cry of his name, hands clawing red marks on his back.

your orgasms have the two of you gasping for air, thighs tingling as the aftershock hits you both. he pulls away from you as so to look at your face, scanning you for your approval. you breath out a chuckle at his adorable determination, "not so bad, hah."

he softly smiles at that before lowering his head back against your shoulder, body collapsing against yours. not so bad, he thinks, eyes fluttering closed when you massage his head, playing with his black curls.

you observe his calm features, beauty and gentle he is. the lovemaking just has your heart beating in your chest, he's venus as a boy.

please leave a like and repost with tags :)

[ladysaytenn]

Heads up for fans of my music!

At the start of December, some of my music will be unavailable on your favorite streaming service because the formerly free distribution service Amuse decided that holding hostages is the best business strategy. I'm guessing they're mad that they don't have Lil Nas X anymore I don't know.

So naturally I'll be paying someone else to get my music back. It'll be a long and somewhat tedious process, and there's no guarantee that you'll still own my music if you bought it on Apple or Google. If that ends up being the case, send me your receipt and I'll take care of it to the best of my ability. Thank you for your patience.

[littlebatgames]

Revolutionary Love

Hey Tumblr! It's been a while since we posted, but we recently released Vampire Therapist: Couples Therapy, an expansion to our critical hit, Vampire Therapist, and thought we should talk about it here!

Vampire Therapist - Couples Therapy on Steam

In Couples Therapy, you'll help a pair of lovers who both didn't survive historical revolutions.

Antoine-François Momoro (we call him Momo) was a key figure in the French revolution, distributing the rebel newspaper, La Pere Duschene. He was instrumental in spreading the message of the revolution, but was something of an egomaniac.

Reza Houshmanzadeh is an original character based on several archetypes from the 1979 Iranian revolution, which was orchestrated by a broad coalition of freedom fighters, many of which had opposing goals.

If you'd like to get into the history of these revolutions, recommended reading is Alexis de Tocqueville's The Ancien Régime and the Revolution and Iran: A Modern History.

But onto the good stuff! After reading about Momo's history, we were amused by his obsession with "reason". When the French Revolution ended, Momo took over Notre Dame cathedral to stage a "Festival of Reason", where his own wife was crowned as goddess in mockery of the recently deposed church authority. With this kind of attitude, we knew we had to make him a bit silly.

This is his portrait, but we had to deviate from it... a little.

While we always love to pay homage to history at Little Bat Games, we value our jokes first, which is why we went with a combination of 18th century French fashion mixed with Peter Jackonsesque Lord of the Rings elves. Obviously not Rings of Power, because that show sucks hard.

Look how smug he is. Isn't he great?

For Reza, we went straight for the source — 1970s Iranian fashion. At the time, Iran was a highly westernized society with few limitations on free expression. United States styles were common, mixed with characteristic Iranian flair.

Bell-bottoms, sideburns, and displayed masculinity were very much the order of the day, and they helped inform Reza's character. Clothes doth make the man, as Homer once said. Not those words exactly.

You can see Reza's evolution into the hunky fellow who needs our love!

He's a little grumpy, but wouldn't you be if your government shot you to death?

If you've played Couples Therapy already, let us know what you think! And if you want to share the love, you can now buy the Vampire Therapist Complete Edition bundle for your friends. 😁It includes the main game and its three free content updates and Couples Therapy at a discounted price.

Vampire Therapist: Complete Edition on Steam

[lurkingshan]

Unknown Episode 11

Well, let me get this out of the way upfront. This episode brought us to the big moment we've all been waiting for, the final turn in Yuan and Qian's relationship--and unfortunately, it didn't quite land.

I've been sitting with this episode, contemplating my disappointment with the first sequence, and I think it comes down to this show that has been so assured and confident through most of its run faltering at the crucial moment and seeming to lose faith in its own storytelling to the point that it used editing tricks to compensate. The choice to chop up and sequence this narrative lynchpin of a scene out of order is baffling, and it's a choice that significantly stepped on the most important emotional climax of the story. I was confused to go from the conversation outside to a sudden kiss, then disappointed when we cut back to a very short exchange between Qian and Yuan that was supposed to provide the basis for this turn with only some thin dialogue that didn't connect the beats of the scene, and then into an intense sexual encounter (that was constantly interrupted by repetitive flashbacks) that should have felt like a triumphant and revelatory moment but didn't because of the way we got there.

I know I'm not the only one feeling that way, since folks have been creating and distributing reedited versions of the scene, and Youku actually uploaded a new version free on YouTube with all the flashbacks removed (a clear move toward fan appeasement after the show received a lot of negative feedback on the scene). The editing and the flashbacks were annoying, but honestly the fundamental problem was the scene they wrote did not sufficiently sell the change for Qian--he goes from saying he is still not certain what he wants to being ready to be dicked down in a couple minutes' time, with nothing in the exchange providing any new information or impetus for the shift. The performers did great work but unfortunately the writing and directing and editing decisions around this sequence were just bad; it's frustrating for this to happen with arguably the most important scene of the romance.

A note about the novel: the way this final turn happened there was quite different and, candidly, better in just about every way, from the impetus for the change to the beats of the revelation to the progression of physical intimacy on a pace that felt much more attuned to the emotional complexities at play. I do not know why the show did...this when they had better source material content to work with, but here we are. I absolutely recommend that anyone who loves this show read it!

So, with that disappointment expressed, on to the rest of the episode, in which Yuan and Qian settled into their couple era. I was deeply amused by Qian taking to their sex life like a moth to a flame to the point of daydreaming in meetings, but I do wish the episode had focused more on the natural tension and role confusion that should have resulted from this huge shift in their relationship. They touched on that a bit in the scene where Yuan asked Qian if his hug was from his brother or his boyfriend, but they didn't delve into those complexities in the way I hoped they would. I enjoyed their date at the local restaurant (and loved their friendly neighborhood gangster helping to set the mood) and how much it felt like they were surrounded by their history as they moved through all of these familiar locations where they've had important moments. I didn't much care for the insertion of the health scare plot or the time spent on Le and the doc, though I'm always happy for more Sam Lin even if it comes in the form of a weird late stage and wholly unnecessary ship.

My favorite scene between Yuan and Qian in this episode was far and away the discussion on the stairs with Qian reflecting on his fears of becoming more like his mother and Yuan biting him to snap him out of his fatalistic attitude (this felt like such a classic Priest tribute, she always has biting in her romances). It was a helpful re-centering of what they do for each other and why Yuan is an important presence in Qian's life. I didn't think we needed the health scare for Qian, but I did love Qian choosing to go to this place where he found Yuan to contemplate his life and what matters, with Yuan in turn reflecting that even though he's seen a lot more of the world now, he still prefers to come home to this street. I found that exchange so moving and I think it was important for Qian to hear that.

And that scene led to my other favorite thing in this episode, which was everything to do with Lili and her bond with her brothers. I teared up to see her standing against the wall where Qian has measured their growth talking about the sneaky ways she would try to care for Qian when they were younger, with San Pang listening attentively and gazing at her adoringly. It was such a small moment, but a really lovely window into their relationship dynamic and the shared history they also have together. And when Yuan and Qian came in hand in hand and she just ran to them and offered up her love and acceptance, I felt so much warmth for this family and everything they've survived together.

[sacredfixation]

Mobius files a report on the misuse of the metaphor kit he gave Loki

TVA REPORT – INCIDENT #58738:

Distribution and misuse of Dedicated Metaphor Kit, a Post-Incident Analysis

Filed by: Agent Mobius M. Mobius

Date: [REDACTED]

Subject: Laufeyson, Loki

Incident Summary:

Following a series of disruptions, including but not limited to the unauthorized confiscation of my lunch (henceforth referred to as The Salad Incident), a decision was made to provide Loki with a “Metaphor Kit.” The kit was intended as a pedagogical tool, designed to aid the Variant in understanding abstract concepts without resorting to the destruction of personal property. Items included:

• One (1) foam apple (temptation)

• One (1) rubber frog (chaotic leaps into action)

• One (1) small sand timer (time management and consequences)

• One (1) rubber chicken (disruption and disorder)

The kit was presented to the Variant under strict guidelines for appropriate use, which were immediately ignored.

Immediate Outcome:

• Loki expressed initial amusement, followed by sustained misuse of the provided materials.

• The foam apple became a recurring prop during mission debriefs, often accompanied by sarcastic monologues.

• The sand timer was repeatedly flipped during tense moments, exacerbating existing tensions in high-pressure situations.

• The rubber chicken was deployed in multiple inappropriate contexts, including as a distraction during a classified briefing.

• The rubber frog was used symbolically to mock my efforts at maintaining order, culminating in an unauthorized “leap” onto my desk during work hours.

Impact on Agent Mobius:

• Emotional Toll: Elevated stress levels resulting from constant ridicule and prop-related disruptions.

• Workplace Disruption: Significant time lost attempting to refocus Loki after metaphor kit-related antics.

• Personal Well-being: Persistent headaches reported, likely caused by repeated interactions with the rubber chicken.

Recommendations:

1. Discontinue the use of metaphor kits with Loki

2. Institute a stricter no-prop policy during debriefings.

3. Consider mandatory “Respecting Personal Space and Property” workshops for Loki.

4. Implement mandatory approval process for new teaching methods

Any future attempts to introduce non-standard educational tools or methods to Loki should require pre-approval from senior TVA staff, preferably after thorough risk assessment.

5. Establish designated metaphor-free zones

Common areas such as the cafeteria, briefing rooms, and hallways should be designated as metaphor-free zones to prevent Loki from staging impromptu ‘lessons.’

6. Introduce a post-incident recovery protocol for affected agents

Several agents expressed confusion and mild existential distress following Loki’s metaphor lessons. Consider introducing a support group or brief counseling sessions for agents exposed to prolonged philosophical ramblings.

7. Avoid future attempts to teach Loki lessons through tangible items, this approach is prone to backfire in unpredictable and highly irritating ways.

Agent Commentary:

I initially believed that providing Loki with a non-consumable, symbolic toolset would curb his tendency to disrupt order. Instead, I inadvertently handed him an arsenal of chaos disguised as learning aids. Loki now considers himself a ‘Master of Metaphors’ and insists on offering unsolicited ‘lessons’ to fellow agents, turning the office into something resembling a chaotic philosophy seminar. In hindsight, expecting Loki to handle anything with seriousness was a lapse in judgment. I regret everything.

Conclusion:

This experiment has proven that attempting to outsmart Loki Laufeyson with symbolic gestures or educational tools is futile. Future containment strategies should prioritize direct action over clever solutions. Attempts at intellectual engagement will inevitably lead to frustration, chaos, and, in my case, severe metaphor-induced migraines.

End of Report