#and against my will and i am not enjoying it ngl

[syn4k]

[lanafemme]

:”)

[neverendingford]

.

[healmydesires]

no bc i know damn well X1 or X2 logan would go until he was grunting and whimpering in your ear from accidentally overstimulating himself…

OH DEFINITILY… he’d be whimpering so much. especially after going round after round after round 🤤 UGHHHH I’m going insane 😭 this ask truly inspired me to write it … because you’re so real!

I normally don’t really write drabbles but hey I had to write it soooooo! enjoy 🩷

getting no sleep ꕤ (l.h)

pairing: logan howlett x reader

summary: what the ask says tbh! logan gets overstimulated while having sex.

genre: smut (mdni! 18+)

word count: 684 (it’s a lil drabble owo)

warnings: porn no plot, overstimulation (both but mainly logan ngl), unprotected piv, creampie, breeding kink kinda oops, dirty talk

“God you’re so warm—fuck—so wet,” Logan mumbles on, rambling without a thought, too enveloped in the feeling of your walls wrapped around his cock. You feel every inch of him as he fucks you raw, completely bare. He’s been fucking you round after round after round.

“Logan,” you whine, various cries spilling from your gaping mouth.

“Come on baby,” Logan’s words are slurred from the haze of his own pleasure, recognizing your familiar clench around his length as he keeps plunging inside your tight cunt.

“Lo,” you keen, feet pushing him closer to you as you both mewl in sensitivity. He gasps when you pulse around him, wanting him to spill his load inside of you, needing to see him fall apart. 

His abs are clenching, Logan’s whimpering above you as you tightened your walls around his cock. “Babyyyy, you’re killin’ me.” His head tipping back as loud groans and wines are spilling from his slacked jaw, “fuck baby that feels so good—” he chokes out, as he runs his hands over your body.

Soon he leans down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, groaning and whimpering against your mouth. The kiss is so messy; whenever you would pulse around him, his jaw would fall open, and his pretty hazel eyes would roll back in his head.

“Fuuuuck, I am—shit—so close, fuck—” He moans into your mouth, Logan’s body jerks when you clench particularly hard around his cock.

“Christ,” He let his chin fall back down, jaw slack and eyes heavy as he watches his dick disappear inside your tight pussy. You feel his cock twitch as you pulse around him.

The burning ache you are feeling begins to disintegrate as you feel your orgasm approach, gripping onto the sheets, his hands, anything that can stabilise you. “Fuck, Lo—” you whimper as tears stream down your puffy cheeks, drool leaking from the edges of your mouth as you feel yourself release the pent up pleasure. Your orgasm sweeps you in a vicious wave of euphoria, thighs trembling as you moan softly underneath Logan. Your pussy gushing all around his dick and over his lower abdomen.

“Ah fuck—” he whimpers, pushing himself up as he thrusts deeper into you, the head of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly. “Are you gonna take my cum like a good girl? Let me fill you up until you’re full and messy?”

You visibly shiver at his words, mouth dropped open in awe as you watch him, nodding along. “Please, please Logan...”

“Fuck, take it baby.” He whimpers. It washes over him instantly, hips stuttering into you as he grows desperate, eyes squeezing shut when he feels his cock throb inside of you before hot spurts of his cum splash along your walls, painting them in ribbons of white. The feeling makes you hum, limbs limp on the bed as he shallowly thrusts into you, making sure you take every last drop. 

His whole body is practically buzzing, long legs shaking from the intensity of your combined orgasms, mind feeling like jello as the aftershocks run through his body.

“Fu-uuuck baby,” he whines, biting his lip hard as he watches you try to keep up with his orgasm flooding your pussy.

When the stimulation starts becoming too much for him; and right when your vision comes back to you, he pulls his cock out of you. His hips pull away from yours while his index and middle finger pushes his cum back inside of your quivering hole making you whimper loudly, his two fingers basking in the aftermath before he lets his body slump against your own. 

“We gotta clean this mess up, huh?” You whisper with a playful smirk.

Logan groans as he wraps his arms tighter around your body. “Later,” he grunts, making you giggle.

“Glad I’m not always the only one getting overstimulated here.” 

“Respectfully baby, shut up.” He mumbles as he nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck.

Another fit of giggles escape you at his behaviour. 

Who would have thought, that the roles would be reversed one night?

thanks for reading <3 mwah

[chobunz]

Who in enha mtl enjoy giving head/who you think would be the best at eating 🐱

ngl this one was kinda hard cs i feel like all of them would rlly enjoy giving/receiving head but i (tried) my best nonnie !! >_<

pair: legal line ㅊ f!reader | warnings: smut, oral (f. rec), d/s dynamics, fingering, overstim, edging.. i might’ve missed smth but its 2 am and i’m hella sleepy soooo

eating you out is heeseung’s favorite pastime. that boy practically lives between your legs in his free time. he could be having a bad day and he swears that giving you head is the remedy to cure everything. i think sometimes, he’d bring you to his studio and ask to eat you out when he’s having trouble with his creative flow/when he needs some motivation, idk he’s just kinda silly like that lol. plus he’d look all cute while he’s begging to and looking up at you with the most precious doe eyes, asking for one (1) single orgasm to get his brain going. just really loves knowing that he can always please you with his mouth, often getting hard to the thought of the view you’ll bless him with while he’s down there. proudly obsessed with your pussy and would do anything to get to taste you on his tongue <3

jake is theee pleasure dom. eating your pussy just makes him feel good along with you, getting a sense of accomplishment after making you cum a few times with his tongue only. often has wet dreams of like.. just eating you out. wakes up and makes it his mission to make you cum as many times as he can using his mouth. i think he’d be very strategic (?) with how he eats you out, wanting to figure out a way to make you feel the best you can which leads to many sessions of him just experimenting and observing the way you react to him ?? results in jake ‘accidentally’ teasing and edging you for what feels like hours, feeling mean when you whimper and deciding to reward you with anything you ask for. you’ll have to speak up though or he’ll just continue his teasing ! ><

jay is just very sexy idk, i feel like he’d love giving you head a lot. the feeling of being sandwiched between your plushy thighs turns him on badly, loving all the praise he gets while he licks and sucks you to your liking. i think he’d also very much love when you use his mouth to get off.. like hips pushed up against his face when you get whiny and desperate. or maybe he’s in a different mood and would lightly tap your clit with three fingers when you squirm below him as a warning— it depends tbh. i put him here because i think he’d like using his cock the most to pleasure you, often getting up from your cunt to fuck you because he’s also very desperate….. T-T

sunghoon mainly uses his hands to get you off. prefers being hands on with you. like he loves to taste you but i think he’d definitely also enjoy fingering you more because it’s more intimate in a way (?) like he gets to kiss you and feel your hands all over him while you moan into his mouth.. it’s heaven for him he thinks. he just loves how you feel cumming around his fingers, kissing the temple of your head when you cum for the nth time that night despite you constantly begging for his cock that’s pressed painfully against your side. he gets you to quiet down with his other hand, covering your mouth because only he’s allowed to hear you like this. sunghoon’s main goal is to make you squirt with his fingers so he’s determined…

jungwon’s the type to get pussy drunk, then would try to manipulate you into believing you’re the one who’s needy when he’s literally the one acting like a starved man. his tongue lapping at your pussy and moaning into you with his arms locked around your thighs to keep you in place. i think that eating pussy isn’t something he does as often because of the way he loses self control, which is why i put him here on the list. but even when he’s pussy drunk, jungwon is pushing your limits by making you cum over and over despite your pleas to get him off your overstimulated clit.

sunoo will give you anything you want. i can picture him with a very spoiled, bratty sub, whining about wanting to be eaten out and complaining when he gets up from being buried in between your legs after generously giving you orgasm after orgasm. he’s always eager to please and doesn’t waste a second to give his princess whatever she wants !! like he wouldn’t even punish you for being super bratty, just listening to what you ask of him and allowing your hand to push him into his place <33

๑ ๑ ๑

i have a lot asks like these in my inbox so i’m gonna try n get thru them all as quickly as i can + i like doing short stuff like this to help me ease back into writing again ! also, if you wanna send me a short request like this feel free to ^_^

[bunbunlovestowrite]

C-can I req for Sylus x Vampire!Fem!Reader? Like... He's the one who feeding her... And train her to drink from his neck intead from his palm, bcos she afraid she'll hurt him or sumnthing like that

Fuccc... The tension man... He's the mortal one but he's the one who tamed her

Bite me

A/N:Thank you for your ask anon! I’m sorry this is kinda short and took so long. I’m having migraines and am getting my brain scanned soon.

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Vampire!Reader, biting, blood , Sylus has the hots for reader, Reader is kinda feral ngl, thigh grinding, one reader orgasm, no penetration, neck kissing/sucking (Fem receiving), readers bites are like an aphrodisiac

——

“There. Is that better?” Sylus watched with lidded eyes as your fangs dung into his palm, blood dripping down his skin and down your chin. The taste was sweet and only slightly bitter. His palm pressed to your mouth, your tongue lapping up the scarlet liquid. “Thanks.” You practically moan into the skin.

Sylus only pulled away when he felt himself go lightheaded. His thumb wiped away the blood on your chin and he couldn’t help but let his lips part slightly as your mouth wrapped around his thumb, sucking off the blood. “So messy.” He looked away, his heart pounding slightly.

Sylus’s palm had two scars on it from how often you fed, his neck had one scar from when you first met and you were more than feral. Two lines leading from puncture wounds where you scraped your fangs down his neck, it hurt like a bitch but he lived obviously. That was two years ago though.

You took Sylus’s hand and gently pat the bite with gauze, the blood seeping into the cloth material. He enjoyed you taking care of his wounds it he needed you gone for a least an hour. Your bites did something to him, something that had him fucking his fist like he would die without it. You were oblivious to this effect your bites had and Sylus wouldn’t tell you yet.

“I’m gonna be gone for a while, the twins will bring you food.” Sylus rubbed the gauze, his eyes locking on yours. “You’ll be fine.” He said when he saw your worried face. “You’re the only one that actually fills me.”

The way you said that made his eyes shut, images of him fucking you full of his cum showed up in his head. He groaned and rubbed his head, pinching his nose bridge. “I know. But when I get back I’ll let you feed as much as you want.” He reached out and pinched your cheek.

You nip at his finger, looking away. “I hate that I can’t go with you.” You mutter.

“So clingy.”

“You literally insist I sleep with you.”

—

Sylus left the next day and told you he would be gone for two weeks. You drank off people Luke and Kieran needed to get rid off and they tasted horrible. Luke suggested you drink from him and you almost did until he began acting like Bella from Twilight. Yeah you were less than satisfied. So when Sylus came back you didn’t care it was the middle of the day, you were starving.

Sylus had barely gotten his coat off in his room when you bust in the door, wearing the white nightgown he gifted you. “Y/N? Why are you awake-“ He was cut off by your jumping on him, your feet planting on his stomach as you immediately sink your fangs into his neck. He winced and fell back on his bed, you still on top of him.

“Damn it..” Sylus groaned out as heat flushed his veins, your venom waking him up. He gripped your sides, sitting up as best he could. Your feet left his chest and you sit on his lap, legs on both sides of his thigh.

Sylus was already rock hard, the feeling of you on top of him made his hips buck slightly.

You drank your fill and practically ripped yourself from his neck, landing your head back and breathing heavy. Your chest heaved and blood dripped down your neck, staining your nightgown. Your hunger left and you sat down on his thigh, the firmness of it pressing right to your clothed cunt.

Sylus rubbed his neck and looked a you, eyes half lidded. “Well, satisfied?” He asked. Sylus felt your heat against his thigh, his smirk slight.

You nod, rubbing blood off your neck with your sleeve.

“Good.” Sylus leaned in, breath hitting your neck. “Now let me indulge.” He whispered before licking his blood from your throat, his hands lid down your arms and his fingers linked with yours, grasping your hands tightly.

“What-“ Sylus cut you off with a harsh suck on your neck, right below your ear. You moan out quietly, your own blood rushing. “What..what’s gotten into you?” You say weakly. Sylus kissed at your neck more and he leaned down to bite at the crook of your neck. “I’ll tell you in a little.” Sylus whispered against you skin before he made his thigh rub up slightly.

His thigh rubbed your cunt just right, making the right amount of friction. You buck your hips to grind against him, moaning out. “Ngh…fuck..” You grasp at his shoulders and grind harder, your shame got thrown out the window. Sylus continued to suck at your neck,biting occasionally.

You were dripping on his pants at this point, your stomach forming a burning knot. “Shit shit shit!” You let your head fall back as you cum, hips spazzing slightly. Your nails dug into his shoulders so hard you ripped his shirt and drew blood.

Sylus barely let you ride out your high before he flipped you onto his bed, his belt practically flying off. “I’ll show you what your nibbling does to me.” He hissed as he tied your hands back with his belt, his eyes showing promise.

—

Sorry this sucks

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I have blue beetle headcanons of Jaime's lover who is adored by Khaji Da and maybe the scarab tends to always encourage Jaime to stay by his lover's side at all times?

It took a bit for Khaji-Da to warm up to you, but during this time the scarab would become a silent spectator to your relationship with their host. Khaji-Da bore witness to the sweetest moments of your relationship where you both unabashedly showered the other in an abundance of love and support in the others ambitions, dreams and aspirations; wholeheartedly believing in the others capabilities to do anything and everything.

However the one that stuck out to the scarab came down to the time you found out about Jaime was Blue Beetle at possibly the worst way. It was during his hardest fight to date against a strong villain that seemingly had him down for the count with how unnerving it was to see an unmoving Jaime. So much so that you disregarded your current circumstances to call out to your boyfriend, hanging onto hope that you could give him the strength to send this villain packing.

‘Come on Jaime, you need to get up! I want you to get up so I know you’re okay because I don’t want to continue this life without you! You’re the strongest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of getting to know. You’ve persisted through so much whereas anybody else would’ve given up and I’m not allowing you to give up now! Not when you’ve come so far! And you, Scarab, if you can hear me, I don’t want you giving up either! You both have got what it takes to win this fight! Now I want both of you to get back up and fight until that bastard doesn’t have the strength to stand back up!’ Your cries were enough to urge both Jaime and Khaji-Da to get back up and finish the fight; emerging victorious.

Khaji-Da: you heard your lover, Jaime Reyes.

Jaime: I heard them, now let’s go kick some ass.

Ever since then Khaji-Da had grown fond of you and Jaime couldn’t help but find it hilarious with how you had a sentient scarab, whom that wanted nothing more then to stay within close proximity of you at all times. Not that Jaime was complaining, he’d love being by your side constantly but has found himself being the one to tell you everything Khaji-Da is saying to him within his head.

Ngl he kinda felt like he was the odd man out but with a few of your special kisses and cuddles, that was all soon well and truly forgotten about.

Jaime: why do you want me near them all of the time, they’re safe and sound. We got rid of that villain weeks ago, so what’s your deal?

Khaji-Da: you should stay by your lover for as long as you can Jaime, for despite the danger having been subdued and peace resorted, I still wish for you to enjoy the simplicity of your courtship. They’re good for you.

Jaime muttering to himself* did I just get a blessing from a scarab to continue dating my partner?

Again Jaime wasn’t one to complain about spending more time with you, if anything the moment Khaji-Da suggests that he spend the day with you, Jaime was already two steps ahead and was already bolted down to your house before Khaji-Da could finish speaking.

Khaki-Da is also very protective over you, so that whenever the Scarab thought you were in danger, they’d take over from Jaime and get in between you and whatever Khaji-Da thought posed a threat to you. Jaime is embarrassed, like extremely so but you couldn’t help but find it funny with how quick Khaji-Da was to go on the offence when an innocent puppy came up to sniff you.

Jaime: I am so fucking sorry, that was all Khaji-Da, not me.

Khaki-Da: and I’d do it again. The puppy was encroaching on our territory.

Jaime: IT WAS A PUPPY-

Needless to say not only do you have the most perfect boyfriend but also an overprotective sentient scarab that will not leave you alone. They’re a package deal. You want the cute boy, you also get the scarab attached to his back for free. Literally.

[lanadelnegan]

hyperfeminine reader x negan? he goes to alexandria to take their supplies and reader is just walking around looking all pretty and he CANT resist.

ily 💕💕

ily more bby. xx

Pretty in Pink

S7 Negan x Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut, public sex (in front of Dwight.. like literally in the car while he's driving), Negan being overly caring and sweet with you, character death (negan kills your brother Spencer)

Note: this is dark and twisted ngl.

I watch Negan like a deer in headlights as he whispers into my brother's ear.

"It's because.. ya got no guts." The rest of us are silent as we watch Negan slash his knife through Spencer's stomach, revealing his insides. My stomach churns as I watch him fall to the ground.

Negan chuckles as he looks around, eyeing the crowd as if he's daring us to react.

"Oh, there they are! They were inside of you the whole time." He smirks down at Spencer's lifeless body before his dark eyes roam up, meeting mine.

I quickly look down, biting my lip and fighting back tears. My nails dig into my skin as I try to remain calm.

"Well hello, princess." He slowly approaches me. "Forgive me for the gruesome scene you just had to witness." His hand rests against his chest sympathetically as he stands in front of me now, at least a foot above me.

My fingers lace together in front of me as I continue looking down, digging my dirty white shoe into the gravel.

"I don't believe we've met, sweetheart... In fact, I know we haven't because I definitely would have noticed you, looking all pretty in this little pink skirt."

I look up at him innocently through my lashes. His head cocks to the side as he subtly leans back, noticing the tear slipping from my cheek.

"Shit, darlin'. I am so sorry. That wasn't your boyfriend I just ripped open, was it?" He motions towards Spencer.

I softly shake my head no, earing a grin from him as he tilts my chin upwards to meet his stare.

"He - he was my brother." I sniffle, feeling another tear slide from my cheek.

Negan's jaw ticks and his eyes shut painfully tight as his hand slowly retreats from my chin.

"Goddamn it... If I woulda known.." He shakes his head with disappointment, noticing everyone still standing around us. "Enjoying the fucking show, people?!" He gestures for everyone to clear out before turning his attention back to me.

Sighing loudly, he delicately picks me up in his arms, holding me like a baby. I allow him to carry me as I bury my face into his shirt, soaking it with my tears.

"Ssshhh, babyyy." He whispers against the top of my head as he walks us to his van.

"Dwight! Let's go, you're driving."

"Boss? The supplies.. we don't have them loaded yet." Simon interrupts.

"I'm sorry." Negan's voice vibrates through his chest and into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Does it look like I give two fucks about supplies right now?"

He doesn't wait for Simon to answer as he opens the passenger door, joining Dwight in the van while carefully maneuvering me in his lap. My legs face towards Dwight while the side of my body leans into Negan.

"Hey, sshhh. It's okay, baby. What's your name?" He rubs my back comfortingly.

"Y/n." I whisper, sniffing my runny nose.

"Y/n, you're gonna stay with me tonight so I can make sure you're okay. I truly am sorry about your brother."

I nod my head, leaning against him. This is the first physical affection I've had from anyone since our parents died. Although it's from a man I'm supposed to hate, I can't deny how nice it feels to be touched.

My brother and I drifted apart when our family found Alexandria and made it our own. He turned into someone I didn't recognize, all power-hungry and selfish.. and although he probably deserved to die, he was still my brother. I'll always love him.

I allow myself to snuggle into Negan, my face against his neck as I inhale his scent of leather and citrusy hair gel.

"Gonna make you forget all about that asshole brother of yours, darlin'." His large, veiny hand glides up my thigh until it settles just underneath the frills of my skirt. He rubs circles on my smooth skin with his thumb, comforting me sweetly.

The drive back to the sanctuary seems to last a decade and I watch the way Dwight zones out at the road in front of him, not paying attention to us.

My hand bravely drifts on top of Negan's and I slide his hand deeper underneath my skirt, watching it disappear completely. I know how wrong this is, but I can't help my attraction to him. I've watched him from the window of my room too many times to count, wondering what his lips feel like. Doodling his name next to little hearts in my diary. This is what I've wanted, even if it's under these circumstances.

Negan's eyes widen a little as he looks at me, surprised by my forwardness.

He glances at Dwight before looking back up at me, his heavy eyelids slightly covering his hazel eyes as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

I reach my finger up to graze over his puffy bottom lip in a "shush" motion before leaning in to kiss him. His body remains still as his lips part, letting my tongue slip past his. He groans softly and Dwight glances at us, bringing his eyebrows together.

"Eyes on the fucking road, Dwight." Negan says with our mouths still connected. I let my hands explore him, roaming them up his body and feeling his chest through his t-shirt.

His hard cock presses into my ass as I turn myself to face him, bringing one leg over until they're both hanging over each side of him and I'm straddling his lap. He grips my ass under my skirt as his head falls back slightly, waiting for my next move.

"Negan.."

"Yeah, baby?" His voice is low and raspy.

"Touch me."

His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he urges my back into the dashboard. My mouth gapes open when he pulls my panties to the side, revealing my pussy to him.

"Look at this pretty pink pussy, baby." He breathes out as his finger slides through my wet folds.

"So wet for daddy. Wish I could fucking take you right here."

I look at Dwight, who's trying his best to pretend we're not here, but the sudden sensation of Negan curling his finger inside me snaps my attention back to him.

"So do it, then." I urge him.

His eyebrows raise. "Ohh, sweetheart. So desperate for some cock." His hands find their way to my hips, tracing over them slowly as I lean back up.

"Just yours." I admit and he chuckles softly.

"Is that right, baby? You've thought about me before, huh? Touched yourself to the thought of my cock inside you."

I nod, letting my fingers run through his slicked back hair and I can't help but grind myself into him, desperate for some friction.

"Take it then. I'm not stoppin' you."

That's all the confirmation I need before reaching for his belt and unbuckling him until his pants are a few inches down his thighs.

My hand reaches in his boxers, pulling out his hardening cock. Negan watches my face as I tug on him a couple times, admiring the way he grows longer and thicker in my hand.

I don't waste any time hovering above him as he slides my panties to the side again, helping me me sink down onto him. I moan out at the fullness as my head slightly falls back.

"Thaaat's it, baby." He groans, digging his fingers into my hips while I bounce on him.

A pothole in the road causes the van to dip suddenly, and my hips collide with his completely, causing the tip of his cock to push violently against my cervix. I cry out loudly at the sharp pain, but continue riding him faster and deeper until tears fill my eyes.

His head rests against the back of the seat as he watches me ride him. "Such a good fucking girl. You wanna be my wife, baby? I'll take such good care of you."

My eyes widen a little at the unexpected offer. "Uh, I - I dunno."

"That's alright, baby. I have all night to convince you. Don't think it'll take much, considering how desperate you were for my cock." He smiles up at me arrogantly.

My moans get faster and louder along with his. "You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?"

I nod as his finger finds my clit with ease, rubbing it just the right way to send me over the edge. He kisses me hard right when my pussy floods his dick, causing a wet spot on his black jeans.

"FUCK. Look at that." He dips his finger in my wetness before bringing it up to my mouth, making me taste myself. I moan around his finger, sucking gently.

"You ready for my cum, baby?"

I nod, wanting to taste him so badly. As if he heard my thoughts, he lifts me off of him until I'm on my knees in the floorboard between his legs.

I watch as he strokes himself a couple times, my eyes darting back and forth between the tip of his swollen dick to his handsome face. His head falls back while his lips part, letting out a deep groan before long ropes of warm cum splatter onto my face and tongue. I close my eyes, savoring the taste of him as I suck his tip dry.

"Goddamn baby. Look at the mess you made." He reaches for my face, wiping his load off my chin with his thumb and sliding it into my mouth. I moan around him again, loving his salty unique taste before climbing up into his lap and leaning my head against his chest.

I close my eyes to the sound of his rapid heartbeat and feeling of his gentle hand stroking my hair.

How can the same hands that ended my brother's life be so... gentle with me.

Dwight shuts the engine off, exiting the van awkwardly once we arrive. Neither of us move, but I smile softly when Negan fixes the white bow in my hair, pinning it back in place and causing my heart to front flip in my chest.

"Negan..." I whisper.

"Yeah, baby?"

"... I'll be your wife."

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Sleepover with Drunk Nanami

Nanami crashes on your couch after a drunken meeting on a rare night out.

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY. fem! Reader, Soft Nanami, drunk Nanami, slow burn (sorta? Does nine hours count?), discussions of consent, Gojo is in it also lol.

Word count: 13.9k, Ngl this one kind of got away from me 🤭🫣. Don’t have sex with drunk people! let the tension build until that consent is sober and enthusiastic.

This was inspired by the song Get Up by Ciara, and my being very horny. I haven’t written fanfic in almost ten years, so here’s what I have for you. This was so fun to write, I really hope y’all enjoy it. I am so obsessed with this man its actually insane.

Clubs were not his preferred way to “cut loose”. He hated the claustrophobic proximity, the overpriced drinks, the flagrants displays of affection, most of all the inability to hold a conversation. Resounding bass and artificial light blaring against his skull was sure to culminate in tomorrow’s headache. Nanami couldn't be bothered to entertain the idea of joining his coworkers to dance and drink as they so often invited him. He much preferred to keep his own company, drinking at home, indulging in the occasional (and strictly, personally regulated) cigarette, and reading in the bath. Although the last two weeks he found himself working around the clock. It seemed that as soon as he crossed his own home’s threshold he was back to work in some capacity or other. He couldn't remember the last time he had been able to turn his brain off completely in between shifts. He hated working, period, let alone working outside of his normal hours, but the work needed to be done, and as the days trudged forward, his work life balance compounded into a singularity designed specifically to siphon any free time he could find.

But that had ended this afternoon, completing a mission’s adjoining paperwork and being released for a three day leave in between assignments. Returning to his small office, he begins to retrieve his coat and pack his bag to depart and return home to finally relax. Already feeling his shoulders unknot themselves, Nanami allowed a blissful sigh to leave his lips. No sooner had he begun to draw in the following breath than had the rapping of angular knuckles against his door frame rung in his ears. Raising his eyes, Kento sees long time (reluctant) friend and daily annoyance, Satoru Gojo, strolling casually inside and plopping across the desk from him.

“So what time should I pick you up?” Although Kento could not see his eyes behind the famous black blindfold hiding them, the blase demeanor and entitlement dripping from his question was apparent.

Already feeling the vein in his head begin to pulse, Nanami sighed out, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come out with us tonight. You’re off the ne t few days. I’m sure even you can recover from one night out in that time. Everyone is goin, Suguru, Shoko, yours truly…even Ijichi said he would come,” Gojo allows his smile to lure in the other man, “So you have to come.”

A familiar feeling rose the skin on the back of his neck as Kento heard his familiar train of thought, Absolutely not. I’m exhausted. I have to decline. Don’t wait up for me, but before the reluctance to break his own routine won over, his shoulders softened, “Okay.”

Gojo snapped to attention, his planned seduction now moot in the face of Nanami’s quick acceptance. He hadn't said yes to going out in two months, and the last time he had joined the group, he left less than an hour in claiming a headache and calling a cab.

“For real?” Gojo couldn't help himself, he was waiting for this to be a joke.

“Yes, 9:00 you’ll pick me up. We’ll go out. I could use the break. Thank you for the invitation.”

Gojo was beside himself, feeling his lips stretch from ear to ear, he rose to his feet and began to head to the door. He had to limit the time for Nanami to come to his senses, fearing this may all be some bought of madness from the usually grumpy man.

“See you then, wear something I like.”

Idiot always had to have the last word. Nanami lowered himself into his desk chair, taken aback by his own enthusiasm, a small smile creeping across his lips. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but he couldn't say he was upset by it, it had been a long time since he had tried to meet his friends like this. He wasn't social by nature, and he was grateful to have people who understood that, allowing him his space but still continuing to include him in their extroverted fun. As much as Gojo’s refusal to allow him peace took its toll, Nanami was pleased to have someone so insistent on pushing his social limits. Although he would never tell him that.

These are the circumstances that lead Nanami to drinking as much as he had, to loosening his tie eventually to the point of hanging on either shoulder, to laying his jacket along the barstool of the hightop table he and his friends occupied. Dancing, actually dancing inside of the group of people gyrating together on the club’s designated dance floor. Eyes closed, hair sticking to his forehead, Kento felt the weight of fall away and the warm embrace of intoxication take over.

Gojo laughed over his dark sunglasses, nudging Geto’s elbow with his own before tipping his head to their large, very uncharacteristically drunk friend. They watched in shared admiration, laughing to each other, remembering fondly the stiff demeanor their friend had always carried. Since they’d known him they had seen him get drunk countless times, but drunk enough to dance? Only a handful. Drunk enough to have undone his top three buttons and reveal a growing flush down his neck and shoulders, maybe twice.

“He really needed this,” Geto praised Gojo lightly, it was him who always insisted on inviting out Nanami once again, despite the likely improbability of it happening.

Gojo smiled warmly before laughing again, this time to himself, he didn't want to reveal how easy it really was. How little he had had to push to get him out, he let the praise wash over him as he admired the usually stuffy man’s catharsis. Shoko returned then from the bar, two shots for herself and one for Ijichi who followed closely behind her, already starting to stumble himself.

That’s when Nanami saw you. Finally opening his eyes, pupils adjusting to the dim light, you appeared to him like a vision. And a vision you were, long legs wrapped in a skirt, a top lightly grazing the hemline at your waist, arms full and strong, hair styled specifically showcasing care and effort as well as routine. Engaged in conversation with a friend of yours, both laughing and allowing the atmosphere to relax you, Kento didn't realize his body had stopped dancing as he now stood dumbly in the center of the dancefloor. With soft pushes and thoughtless instinctual movement, he moved to the outskirts of the dancefloor, although still within sight of you. His breath caught in his chest, his hands ran cold, becoming clammy quickly as he watched you share a shot with your friend, head tipping back and revealing the full column of your neck to him. He felt his face flush further than the alcohol could.

Soon enough his back found the table that Shoko currently occupied, digging in her discarded coat’s pocket for her lighter, cigarette hanging loosely between her lips. Cooly placing her hand atop a few rattled glasses knocked around by his collision, she inquired as to Nanami’s dreamy state, “something got your attention?” her laugh broke through his haze just as she followed his eyeline to you.

“She’s pretty, you know her?” she was finally able to fish her lighter from the correct pocket.

Nanmi shook his head, still not able to tear his gaze away,” do you?”

“Never seen her before.” She observed the dumbstruck look in Nanami’s eyes weighing whether her input was more prescient than her desire for a smoke break, “You should try to talk to her. Who knows when we’ll get you out again. Make the most of it.”

With that she headed back towards the smoker’s patio, leaving Nanami with her words bouncing between his ears. When was the last time he had flirted with someone? When was the last time he had been on an actual date? When was the last time he had gotten to take someone home? When was the last time he had shared a bed with someone? When was the last time someone else had made him cum, not just himself between disgruntled days and nights working too much with little output? He had a break, he had come out, hadn't he? As he had gotten ready tonight he chastised his own mind for indulging in fantasies of meeting someone, But he didn't think he would find someone so ... .magnetic.

He wasn't even sure how long it had been since Shoko had gone outside, Kento snapped back to himself when he saw you set your drink down- nearly finished- and head into the throng of dancing bodies. His body moves before he can consciously decide how best to approach you; feet escorting him to the dance floor, hips following the beat and loosening the rest of him. His hands moved upward around his shoulders imitating a boxer’s stance, the alcohol clearly influencing his dancing style. Pressing forward he found himself just to your left. It was as though you had your own kinespheric bubble surrounding you, people danced near you but not on you. He felt invited in by this space, as though you had saved it just for him. He watched your body move, circling your hips and allowing your neck to follow the melody freely, your arms raising above your head as your eyes fluttered between completely closed and mostly closed. Your lips were parted beautifully, lip gloss catching the light so beautifully.

Maybe it was just chapstick, or it was lipstick, he had no idea, but just seeing the glint along your bottom lip made his mouth water for your kiss.

Would you use your tongue right away, or would he need to draw it out of you with his? Would you want him to guide you, or did you want to lead him yourself? He found his heart quickening at ever new possibility. When you finally allowed your eyes to open, they found him almost instantly. Locking eyes with you finally, Kento thought his skin was going to burst. Heart quickened, hand clammy, breath quick he searched for any reciprocation in your own eyes.

So when your eyes crinkle, following the line of your smile, so clearly directed right at him and only him, Kento can't resist but bring his hands to the sides of your hips.

The blonde man had been watching you since you got here. You noticed, Sophie noticed. As soon as you left the bar and staked your claim on an open hightop bordering the crowded but lively dance floor, she had jutted her chin toward him on the other side of the floor.

“Got one already.” she said impressed with your efficiency.

You turned to briefly meet his gaze, in just a second his gaze was so intense you could tell his eyes were honey brown and they were trained on you and only you, “oh come on. I’m sure he’s just checking everyone out.” you dismissed, still feeling the hot eyes on the back of your neck.

“He’s still looking at you,” Sophie marveled, “still looking…still…wow I don't think hes even trying to hide it.”

You knew. You could feel it, your heart raced. You had just barely looked at him but you had seen enough to see how attractive he was. A tall, broad frame, well cultivated outfit, neat, well styled hair, confidence and stability oozing from every pore. So clearly unabashedly interested. God, he was your type. Before you knew it most of your drink was drained, the nerves of being observed having made you suddenly parched. The liquid confidence settling in your system motivated you to pull Sophie to dance. You two found an open bubble in the sea of bodies and allowed yourself to release your lingering thoughts of the watcher.

That is, until you open your eyes once more, finding a pair of honey brown eyes begging for yours. It was him. He was less than two feet from you, he had sought you out. You couldn't help yourself, his interest and obvious enthusiasm brought a curl to your lips. Your smile locking him into a stare, you didn't flinch when you felt large, strong hands on your hips. It felt right, looking into his eyes the idea of not feeling him touch you felt preposterous. Your hips still followed the music, his soon joining their routine. His hands, once brazen, now stayed still and solid against your hips, moving with you, but never straying from their position. Emboldened by his sudden demure approach,wanting to reciprocate with just as much interested you turned, facing your back to him and pressing the curve of your ass against his hips, you thought you hear a soft groan exit his mouth. Once you had turned away from him, a bit of tension is relieved. You feel braver not looking him directly in the eye anymore. You grip onto one of his hands and trail it up your body, leaving the other gripping your hip harder and harder. Soon your back was fully against his chest, the music carried your pelvis, joined against his, everything else fell away as you guided his right hand across your body, side, hips, stomach and ass. His body felt so solid against yours, it was so solid against yours. He was an imposing figure, six foot or more, strong and cultivated build demonstrating both his personal strength and his own discipline. How you could have not noticed him here before was beyond you.

Nanami was hypnotized. From the moment you had looked him in the eye, he was hooked. Now that your body was flush against his, ass grinding into the front of his slacks, he couldn't think about anything else. He breathed hot against your ear as your fingers curled around his, sliding his fingers up from your hip to your stomach. It was so intimate, your leading his hand along your body, showing him exactly where you wanted his touch. You had your head cocked to the left, opening the side of your neck to him and moving your hair just under his nose, the smell of your shampoo was thrilling, he longed to run his fingers through your hair, to ruin your styling and pull. He wondered if you would let him brush it for you, wash it for you. He could learn exactly how you liked your routine, learn to style, learn to braid, anything to keep this smell close to him.

Behind his eyelids he wondered about your body, how your breasts would look, how your skin would flush through excitement or exertion, how wet you would get, how you would taste. He wondered, too, about your kiss, again thinking about how much tongue you would use, and if you would want to be in charge or him. A soft moan escaped his lips as he thought of your tongue sliding against his, directly against the shell of your ear. As if cued you spun around again, your leg slotted between his, allowing you both to move as one, grinding unashamed as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“You can touch me yourself you know,” You could barely hear the music but Nanami knew exactly what you had said, “Or do you just like being told what to do.”

Your flirting sent a shock directly down his body, feeling his cock swell against the inside of his slacks, he slid his hands up the curves and folds of your back, your skin was so soft, he saw your lips part as he touched you. You were so reactive, he couldn't hear the caught breaths of the soft moans over the club’s speakers, but he watched as your eyes fluttered and your knees pulled tighter around him. One hand traveled down to the side of your leg, brushing down the side of your hip and ass to grip your thigh. The front strands of his hair had loosened and now hung freely in his face, a dark blush settled across his freckled nose and cheeks, one of your hands moved down his shoulder and onto his chest, he wished he had been more reckless and undone a few more buttons for you, he longed to have your fingers on his skin. But for now they held the collar of his shirt in their grasp, he longed for your eyes again, and as if you had read his find they met his own. He prayed you couldn't feel the way the eye contact had made his dick twitch, the blush deepening at the shame of being so crass in his attraction to you. Pulling him somehow even closer, he could feel your breath on his neck, he was panting a bit from the exertion of dance and the intense sexual tension. The song was beginning to end, and the DJ was already beginning to blend it with the introduction of the next song.

Seizing his opportunity, Nanami finally spoke his first words to you, “Can I buy you a drink?”

You nodded, smiling at him, he wanted to make you smile again and again, the warmth of your gazing making the stuffy club feel icy by comparison.

“Thank you!”, you moved a hand down his arm to join your hands together. Guiding him over to the bar. Your hand in his felt electric, you both could feel it. His large, work roughened palm against your own. They had fit together so naturally.

As you made your way over to the bar the music became less and less overwhelming, the pressing of bodies became less insistent. You turned your head to find Sophie, chatting to a few friends she had planned to run into, she caught your eye before giving you a knowing look and a thumbs up. You smiled and winked at her before turning back to the man behind you. You caught him at the end of turning his head from what looked to be a group of his own friends. All of whom were looking at the pair of you. One, particularly tall man with dark glasses was giving an encouraging thumbs up mirroring Sophie’s. You caught yourself wondering if your friends would get along, if he would get along with your friends, if you would get along with his. You didn't even know this man's name, you had barely spoken to him, and here you were ready to merge friend groups and make brunch plans. What the hell was going on tonight?

Finally reaching the bar right as two seats opened up, you both sat, giving your exhausted legs much needed refuge. The air between you two suddenly became thick, without the immediacy of movement you found yourself suddenly worried about how to engage him again in the heat you had just had.

“What do you like to drink?”, he started right as you offered a question of your own,

“So what’s your name..”

You both laughed for a second, the acknowledgement of shared nerves taking a little pressure off. His smile was reserved, seemingly unpracticed. But his eyes betrayed his warmth, you could see.

“Kento Nanami,” He answered your question first, fighting the urge to hold out his hand for a chaste and professional handshake. He lifted his eyebrows to signify it being your turn to answer, you told him your name, and his smile returned again, “That's a beautiful name.” he repeated it back to you, ensuring his pronunciation was correct, when in actuality he could have rolled your name in his mouth a thousand times and never tired of the taste.

“I’d love a gin and tonic,” You offered, answering his question, “Or whatever you’re drinking.”

Drinking, he was drinking. Suddenly he was aware of how much he had been drinking. Skin hot and red, probably sweating all over you, stinking of booze. He felt the embarrassment move throughout his body as he replayed his invitation to buy you a drink. Were you just being nice to him? Wanting to find a polite way to get away from him and return to your friend? He had been so casual, so unhindered.

God, he was an idiot

“Sorry to take you away from your friends, I understand if you want to go back.”He wanted to offer you an out, feeling himself try to straighten up and will the drunkenness out of him before he embarrassed you or himself further. But to his surprise, you cocked your head to the side, eyes narrowing to assess his change in demeanor. You could see right through him.

“Don’t get shy on me now, the nights just starting,” you offered a new, slyer smile, “isn’t it?”

He nodded slowly, the bartender finally rounded the bar top to take your orders. Nanami ordered your drink as well as one of his own, you added on the desire for some ice water. Once the drinks were down set, you offered him a little cheers, tapping your glass against his before sipping. The drink was cool and refreshing, the perfect remedy for the heat rising in your neck and face.

He was so handsome, from his carved cheekbones speckled with freckles, you wondered if they were anywhere further down his collar. His bottom lip was full and plump, parted slightly as he tasted his drink, with his face profile to yours you could see a small pink circle on the side of his nose.

“Do you wear glasses?”, you asked.

Nanami’s brows twitched slightly together, “I do.”

“You have those little impressions on your nose. From the bridge of your glasses.” You answer, without him having asked how you could tell, “I bet you look handsome with your glasses on.”

Nanami cursed himself for leaving his glasses in his coat pocket across the bar. He’ll never make that mistake again. Bringing the chilled glass to his lips, attempting to cover his smile. He feels so seen by you, the way your eyes move over every inch of him, he doesn’t know if he’s ever been observed so closely. It’s exhilarating, it’s terrifying. You’re terrifying. You’re exhilarating. You’re still looking at him. You’re looking at him expectantly. You asked him another question and he missed it. He scrambles through the last few seconds searching for what you may have said to him, and how he possibly could have missed it.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if those were your friends over there.” You pointed over his shoulder.

Nanami turned quickly, oh god too quickly, his head spinning a bit as his equilibrium struggled to catch up. Gojo was waving at him, gesturing broadly in unintelligible charades. Nanami felt his frustration flare up at both having been distracted from you and also having to once again decipher another one of Satoru’s riddles. At the meeting of their eye line, Gojo began to move over to where the pair of you were seated, Geto and Shoko sharing the weight of a stumbling Ijichi. The head vein began pulsing again, he ought to name it after Gojo the way he sets it off. Panic set throughout his body, he didn’t want you to meet his friends— or maybe he didn’t want them to meet you. Not yet. He didn’t want to risk ruining what hadn’t yet really started. Suddenly feeling very territorial of you, he turned back, once again sending his head swimming.

“Yes. Those are my coworkers. I’m not—“

“Nanamiiiiin. We gotta take Ijichi home, he’s already thrown up twice. It’s gross.” Gojo was already halfway through his sentence before reaching the bar.

You assessed the new crowd of faces. Odd faces, all so well built and specific. Between the tall man in the darkest sunglasses you had ever seen in an already dark bar, the lithe woman with purple eyeshadow and the most perfect beauty mark, and the embodiment of tall dark and handsome— you wondered what exactly Nanami did for a living. Was there some kind of work force that employed only the hottest people you had ever seen. It took you a second to notice the younger, far drunker man with his arm slung around the black haired man with the gauges. The white haired man was still talking to Nanami, maybe arguing, but they spoke too softly for you to hear specifics. Both were cut off

“So do you want a ride home or are you good here?” Gauges asked eyes moving between you and Nanami coolly, before readjusting his hold of the nearly asleep fourth man.

The woman tapped on her phone, seemingly uninvested in what was happening, now barely holding onto their friend.

The white haired man cut in before Nanami could answer, “you hit those drinks pretty hard, Nanami. We don’t want you getting taken advantage of.” His face turned toward you and although you couldn’t see his eyes, you felt them.

Wow, like really felt them, he was sizing you up, it was clear. It was confusing, his inflection was teasing-almost joking, but his energy was severe.

Nanami was seething, mortified by the intrusion and Gojo’s crass assertion, “I can get myself home.”

It would have sounded more convincing if the slurring of his voice hadn’t married the words myself and home into a mess. You noticed, realizing for the first time that you were much more sober than him. His friends noticed too.

Nanami cleared his throat before speaking again, “I’m a grown man, I don’t need you to babysit me, Gojo. I’m enjoying my evening. Please take Ijichi home.”

Gojo didn’t seem convinced, turning his face back to you and finally sliding the sunglasses down his nose to reveal the bluest pair of eyes you had ever seen. They nearly glowed in the dim club. This gesture caused the others of the group to stiffen up. The woman finally putting her phone down, Gauges eyeing him carefully, even Nanami drew in a tense breath.

“We quite like our friend Nanami, we wouldn’t want him getting hurt.” He spoke directly to you, between his height and your seated position he leaned over you slightly, “are you someone we can trust our friend with?”

Nanami was about to cut in but before he could you met those azure eyes with yours, “I quite like your friend too.,” you copied his inflection, “ I understand why you’d be wary of some stranger taking him home. Since you have your hands full, I’ll watch him for the night. If he decides he needs a ride home, why don’t I call you directly?”

Nanami felt his jaw drop, looking between you and Gojo carefully. He caught Geto’s eye, seeing him smile lightly. No one talked to Gojo like this. Shoko chuckled softly, impressed with your lack of fear in the face of their “strongest” friend. There was no way for you to know the risk you were taking, but it was thrilling nonetheless.

“That is, if he would like to join me back to mine?” You continued, looking away from Gojo and back to Nanami.

“I’d like that very much.” Nanami answered quickly, in any other situation he would be embarrassed at how eager he sounded, especially in front of his friends. But you wanted to take him home, you wanted to keep talking to him, he could see where you lived, maybe you would let him kiss you, or touch you again.

“Give me your phone.”

The request snapped Nanami from his fantasy. Gojo held his hand out expectantly. To his surprise you handed over your cell phone. Gojo typed quickly, “This is my phone number and where Nanami lives. If I don’t answer, stick him in a cab to this address. Okay?”

“Okay. It’s nice to meet you, Gojo.” You attempted to ease the tension created, “I promise you’ve left him in good hands and I’ll return him to you in one piece.” You smiled warmly at him, cutting through the attempts at intimidation, even offering a small wink to Nanami over his friend’s shoulder.

You didn’t back down, you understood why anyone would be concerned about leaving their drunk friend with a stranger. It was a testament to how much he cared, he seemed completely sober himself. Playing DD, you assumed, was not a role he took lightly. You respected his protectiveness, you had done nearly the same on many occasions. If this is what Nanami’s friends were like, you would definitely fit in. You glanced down at where Gojo had written in the notes app of your phone. A string of numbers— his cell, and an address, Nanami’s, and below that another line, just for you.

Be nice to him, he’s more sensitive than he looks :)

Yeah, you would get along with this one. You smiled up at him and Nanami both before the dark haired man slung the full weight of the now completely passed out bespectacled man on his back in an attempt at a piggy back, and smiled to you warmly,

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Kento. Have a nice night.” Before turning and leading the group toward the exit. Gojo handed off Nanami’s jacket before pushing his glasses up his nose and turning around to follow.

With no more company, the two of you were once again alone. Nanami struggled to collect his thoughts before you soothed him, “Your friends are nice. They seem to really care about you. How long have you all worked together?”

“We all went to high school together.”

“And you’re still friends? That impressive, I barely keep up with friends from that long ago.”

“We’re, sort of, stuck with each other.” Nanami started, caught in the trap of having to figure out some way to explain his job without, actually, explaining his job. Thankfully, you cut that conversational thread and moved forward.

“I hope I wasn't too forward. You don't have to come back to mine. I felt like we were just getting to talking and I didn’t want to cut it short yet. But please don’t feel obligated.” You wanted to assure him that he could proceed however he wanted to. Despite how hopelessly attracted to this man you were, you recognized your responsibility as the more sober party to remain respectful.

“No I want to!” He blurted, not thinking about his volume, quickly standing.

You laughed, “I didn’t mean now! If you want to stay and have another drink, or dance more, that's good too.”

His resolve was starting to crack, it had been nearly an hour since he first saw you enter the club. He wanted desperately to be alone with you, suddenly the club was too hot and too crowded and too loud. Everything was overwhelming, and the only thing he wanted to overwhelm him was you.

Still standing he stepped in toward you a sudden surge of confidence lowering his voice and causing his head to dip down to meet you at eye level, “I would, very much like to join you back at your place.”

His voice was dripping with want, the eroticism behind his words lidding his eyes and sending chills down the side of your neck. You let out a small shaky breath before standing up, chest nearly colliding with his, sending him back up to his full height.

“Let me tell my friend I’m leaving. Stay here.”

You nearly ran to find Sophie and your mutual friends at a table of their own. Leaving Nanami to settle his tab and wait patiently at the bar for your return. Your heart was beating so fast you could barely hear the music. When you finally found her, you pulled her close to speak directly into her ear.

“I’m taking blondie back to mine. You all good here?”

She gave you a taunting oooh before smiling, “you really do work fast. Next time lets see if you can last two full hours before taking someone home.”

You rolled your eyes before giving her a tight hug and grabbing your jacket, “love you, text me when you get home.”

Waving to your other friends you turned on your heels and saw Nanami still standing at the bar patiently at the bar patiently. He hadn't pulled out his phone to pass the time, he simply waited, just as you had told him. God, if he could follow benign instructions like this so well, you can only imagine how well he would do with something more salacious. You had to relax, you knew nothing would happen tonight. He would come over and crash, and that was enough for now.

Nanami counted to six in his head over and over, trying to measure his breaths as though if he increased his oxygen intake he wouldn't be drunk anymore. The sides of his vision were fuzzy and dreamlike, ears hot, tongue a bit dry, all his physical indicators of intoxication were present. He paid his tab, the only things on it were your and his brief shared drink. Realizing that since Gojo( maybe Geto?) had purchased the earlier rounds, he actually had no way of knowing how much he had had tonight. What had he gotten himself into? His attempts to sober up proved inefficient because just as quickly as you had left, you were standing in front of him once more wearing your jacket and sliding your purse over your shoulder. You still looked so beautiful,

“Ready?”

He nodded, “Ready.”

And now he sat in the back of a cab, behind the driver, you on the other side. Had he remembered to open the door for you? Had you two waited outside for the cab to pull up long? A window had been cracked allowing fresh, night air to brush past his face. Your thumb ran over the back of his hand. You were holding his hand. He looked down to confirm that your fingers were interlocked with his resting on the middle seat between the two of you. They looked good like that, his long fingers laced with yours. How long had you been holding hands? Eyes wandering he saw the skin of your thigh where your skirt had ridden up, he wanted to feel your leg against his, the space between you in the backseat suddenly feeling cavernous.

“You’re so far away.” he mutters, not really intending to say so out loud.

Without saying anything you giggled and scooted closer to him, moving your joined hands into your lap and your leg right against his. You tipped your head up to look at him, he wanted desperately to kiss you. Just as he began to lean into your lips you stopped him with your fingers.

“Not yet.” was all you offered him as conciliation.

He nodded, lips still restrained by your fingertips. The faint smell of the lime you had squeezed into your drink still lingering. Even just having his lips on your fingertips sent his body into a frenzy. But he was a patient man. Drunk or not, he knew how to wait for what he wanted. Still, he allowed himself to indulge a little, he kissed your finger tips before pulling back with a sigh, nodding silently.

The rest of the drive was quick, or at least it felt quick. You lived in an apartment building and when the cab pulled up outside, you handed over a few bills before sliding out of the door closest to you. Nanami began to move toward his before it opened suddenly. You had opened his door for him and were now offering your hand to help him out. He stared up at you entranced, he felt romanced by you. It dawned on him that he had truly let himself be “picked up”. Taking your hand he exited the car and tried to think if he had ever had this happen before. Women approached him sure, men too, but whenever he allowed himself to spend the night with someone they had always come back to his place. It allowed him a sense of control, and thus comfort in a vulnerable situation. Vulnerability did not come naturally to him, not now anyway. He wasn't prudish or uncomfortable with casual sex, but he liked to remain the organizer of them. Much like everything in his life he liked it to remain under his control. But tonight, you had steered him right to your door and he was so willing, it dawned on him only once that maybe he could have gotten himself in a dangerous situation. He barely knew anything about you, he knew your name, and now where you lived, but the rest of you was a mystery to him. And yet here he was, following you down the hallway to your apartment door truly not caring what could be on the other side as long as it meant more time with you.

You hesitated at the front door, holding your keys in one hand, aimed at the lock.

“I want you to know I’ll call your friend whenever you like. If you decide you want to leave, you just say so and It won't be a problem. You won't hurt my feelings and it doesn’t have to be awkward.” It felt redundant at his point, but you couldn't shake the discomfort of having taken him home in this state. He had nodded off briefly in the cab, holding your hand tightly, before coming too and staring at you with wide eyes. You nearly backed off then and redirected the driver to the address his friend-- neigh, Bodyguard-- had written down. But then he had wanted you to come closer, and tried to kiss you. You knew he wasn't thinking clearly, but still he sought you out.

Gnawing the inside of your lip you looked up at him nervously, waiting for his response. Nanami looked down at you, his already drooping eyes still warm toward you, “I really like you. I think you’re beautiful. I bet you're a great decorator, can I please see what you’ve done to your apartment?”

His response made you laugh again. He Hadn't really answered you, but it was clear what he wanted. You weren't sure if he was intending to be funny, but nonetheless, the anxiety you had just felt slipped away once again and you turned the lock, leading him inside. You liked your apartment, it wasn't the nicest place available. But it was a two bedroom you could afford by yourself, with a good sized kitchen and small personal patio. Frankly, you were lucky to have even found it. You were a good decorator, and you were proud of the job you had done with the interior. A large, well managed and organized bookshelf along one wall with a recliner and side table, art along the walls you had collected since first moving away from home. A medium sized brown couch that was perfect for movie nights with Sophie or an afternoon nap. You had made a home here, and you were thankful for the chance to show it off.

“Wow…” Nanami’s voice sounded nice inside of your home.

“You like it?” you began to shed your jacket, hanging it on a tree rack by the door and clicking on a few lights. You offered to take his coat.

“It’s beautiful, so warm.” Nanami began to slip his jacket down his shoulder, suddenly realizing he didn't actually remember putting it on, “you did all of this yourself?”

You barely heard his question, distracted by the way his shirt stretched over the muscles of his back, “Uh.. yeah. I moved in about three years ago. So it's been a process but I’m pretty proud of how it turned out.”

You turned to hang his coat next to yours, even they looked cute together. He removed his shoes carefully, still stumbling a bit before he took a few steps into your apartment’s main room.

“Why don’t you take a seat.” you gestured to the couch

He sat gracelessly, cushion sinking more under him than he expected. His couch at home was pretty stiff, yours was soft and pliant under his weight. He steadied himself again, feeling embarrassed suddenly.

“I dont usually drink like this, I drink.. Just not so….like this?” He attempted to save some face in the wake of his stumble.

You stood by the edge of the couch before moving into the kitchen area.

“Are you hungry? I could make us something before bed.” You offered, more needing an escape from the building sexual tension than feeling any actual hunger.

“Oh I couldn’t put you out like that…” He started, feeling his limbs get heavy with comfort as the softness of your couch lulled him to lay down. It wouldn't hurt to just lay down a little, right?

“It's no trouble, really! We may feel better in the morning if we eat something now.” you called from behind him. Your voice seemed further away somehow as he pressed his cheek against the soft suede beneath him.

The couch smelled so good, like incense and home cooked food. He wondered if you had a pet he hadn't yet seen, or if you wanted one. Were you a dog person? Or did you prefer cats? Maybe you were one of those people into reptiles, he could learn to love one if you wanted him to. In this state he would do anything you asked him. Which was precisely why he wasn't getting the one thing he wanted from you, he buried his frustrated expression further into the couch. A small groan exiting his lips. Your hand brushed the back of his neck, rousing him back to attention.

“Kento, honey? You still with me?” your voice was so sweet saying his name, he wanted to hear it again. Once he looked up at you he saw you had a glass of water in your hand offering it to him, “Are you good to sleep in these clothes or should I look for something for you to wear?”

He was still in his dress clothes, not his work dress clothes, but not exactly lounge wear. His button up was stiff and pants had been well tailored, hell, he was still wearing his belt, “thank you.” he accepted the water, and by proxy your offer.

He was left alone in your living room. Slurping down the cool water he tried once against to regain his composure. Had he fallen asleep again just now? You seemed to have abandoned the idea of eating so he must have drifted off. This job really had run him ragged.

“They still may not be the right size, but they’ll work for the night I think.” You returned from the side room, presumably your bedroom, with a pair of black sweatpants, “They used to be my brother’s, but they've got some paint stains from when I redid the bathroom. Sorry I don't really have anything else.”

He accepted them graciously, setting the water down on a coaster before standing, “Thank you, this is all very nice of you. Letting me stay the night like this, I'm really not usually like this…”he started to repeat himself.

“It's really no trouble, it's been a long time since I let a man as handsome as you sleep on my couch.”

The couch. So he wouldn't be joining you in bed tonight. Part of him had hoped that even though he wouldn't be sleeping with you tonight, he could at least sleep in your bed, “The couch, huh?” His half awake state allowed the thought to slip out half formed.

“Mhm, the couch. You two seem to have really hit it off. I'm certain the drool puddle wasn't there when I left.” You pointed to a small wet spot on the cushion where his face had been.

Once again the embarrassment of his current state shot through his body like electricity, so he had fallen asleep again. He hung his head cringing at himself, “Oh jesus…I cant believe this.. I’m--”

You cut him off, “You really don't need to be sorry. I like having you here. And tomorrow morning maybe we can have coffee and talk some more. I hope you don't think I was just inviting you over to fuck you.”

His breath caught, “No, I- well.. I thought you--”

“I, of course, want to fuck you. And I don't really see any point in hiding it anymore now that you’re here. But it’s just not going to happen tonight. And I don't think I'll get a wink of sleep next to you when all I can think about is that. Does that make sense?”You were tired, you didn't want to be coy and demure anymore. You wanted to be frank and upfront about how you felt and what you wanted. Nanami nodded understandingly, although still a little surprised at your confession. You continued, “So, you’ll sleep here. I’ll sleep in my bed. I usually wake up at 8, the door to my bedroom is unlocked. If you need anything during the night, please don't hesitate to wake me up. The bathroom is the door behind you, you can change in there.”

Nanami was awestruck by your instructional tone, it sent his mind in a thousand directions; thinking of you telling him house work that needed to be done on the weekend, to you telling him exactly how to please you. He wanted you so badly, pants growing tighter, breath getting heavier. You stepped forward, nearly right up against his chest.

“I hope you're not too disappointed that I won't take advantage of you tonight.” Your voice soft.

“I respect your self control.” His eyes were locked on your lips, so plump and soft looking.

“I’m going to bed,”You leaned in closer, so close he could smell your perfume again, still as hypnotic as it was in the club, “Goodnight, Kento.”

You pressed your lips against his cheek. His body shuddered as your lips lingered there before you pulled away back on flat feet. Trying desperately to regulate his racing heart, Nanmi looked at you desperately.

“Goodnight.”

You turned back to the side room hitting a wall switch to extinguish the kitchen light before closing your bedroom door and leaving him in your dimly lit living room. He could still feel your lips burning on his cheek, he stood for a few seconds not wanting any other sensations that could potentially dull this one. Finally, he shed his pants, folding them haphazardly and setting them on your recliner. He sweatpants you had given him fit okay, the drawstring was broken so they hung pretty loose around his hips, showing just the elastic of his briefs. He undid the rest of his shirt buttons and folded it to stack atop his pants. He hoped you wouldn't mind, but he never slept with a shirt on. Honestly, he didn't usually sleep with pants on either, he already ran hot but sleeping was an entirely different story. Sleeping fully clothed almost always culminated in him waking up in a pool of sweat as though he had just broken a fever. Laying on his back on the couch he pulled a throw blanket over him, mind racing with thoughts of tomorrow.

In your room you stared up at the ceiling of your bedroom. You had returned to your room like every night, put on an old t shirt and shorts as you always did, washed your face and brushed your hair as though it was any old night, turned on your white noise and gotten into bed as if there wasn't the most attractive and charming man you had ever met settling in to sleep on your couch at this very moment. The nights events played and replayed in your mind on a loop, the intensity of his gaze across the floor, the way he had materialized right in front of you, the feeling of his body pressed up behind yours, his hands on your back back, his hand in yours, him asking to kiss you in the cab, him snoring softly on your couch, the way he had looked at you as he said goodnight. You had never felt so pulled toward another person before. It was far from a perfect night, on a perfect night you’d be fucking each other blind until the sun came up at this very moment. On a perfect night you wouldn't have even been in that club, you would already be his, spending romantic evenings reading and cooking. You wondered if he liked to read, what his favorite meals were, if he wanted pets, if he would want to move in here or if he’d ask you to move in with him. You recognized the street name of his address, he lived in a far nicer part of the city than you did. You wondered what his place looked like, if he had decorated it personally or if he had help. God, you haven't even asked if he had a girlfriend. You checked for a ring while you were dancing, but you got so caught up that the idea of a girlfriend hadn’t even crossed your mind. You rolled onto your side trying to relieve some anxiety, he didn't have a girlfriend. You met his friends, they were intense, sure. And sure, one of them had lightly threatened you, but it didn't seem like the threat was rooted in a fear of infidelity. It seemed like the threat came purely from a safety standpoint.

Were you being irresponsible? Was it smart of you to have brought him here so easily? You rarely brought hook ups here, almost always opting to follow them home and politely excuse yourself in the morning. You found yourself bending so many of your usual rules for him, giving your information to his friends, leaving the club so quickly, bringing him to your apartment. Nanami was so big and looked so strong, it probably wouldn't take a lot for him to overpower you. You had practically offered yourself to him on a silver plate. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to be afraid of him. You couldn't say that you knew him well enough to know he was safe, but you just…trusted him. And you felt that he trusted you too.

Your lips still tingled from kissing him. It was just a goodnight kiss, a simple gesture intended to convey continued interest but the end of the conversation around sex. You could call it chaste, even. And yet here you were, lips feeling electrified from a mere two second kiss on the cheek. Whatever product he uses in his hair smelled incredible, like honey or tobacco or sandalwood. Something organic and masculine. The soft sound of surprise he had let out when you touched the back of his sleeping neck resounded in your ears. His voice was so pretty, your mind attempted to conjure what he could sound like when he climaxed. If he would let out a low, husky groan, or if he would whine and beg you for more. You felt your pussy dampen at what your imagination offered you. Thoughts of him were consuming you, seconds moving by glacially as you begged for sleep to take over and bring the beautiful, sober light of day through your bedroom window. When it finally did your dreams were abstract but they were blue and honey and blonde.

Nanami could already feel his head pulsing before he opened his eyes. Oh God. When he finally did manage to pry his eyes open, he found himself not looking at his bedroom wall. He wasn't in his bedroom at all. He wasn't in his bed. Where the fuck was he? He sat up slowly, head pounding and back aching. He took in his new surroundings: he was on a couch, there were his clothes folded on the chair, he remembered taking them off, he looked to the coffee table and saw a glass of water mostly untouched with two small painkillers next to it. It must have been left there by you. YOU! This was your apartment, he had slept on your couch in your apartment! Memories of the previous night came screaming back against his aching head. The club, the shots, meeting you, dancing, you taking him home, you taking care of him-- oh god he was so drunk. Had he really fallen asleep twice? He was mortified. He didn't know if he could face seeing you. He remembered Gojo’s threats and his cheeks burned both in embarrassment and rage, where does he get off acting like some kind of guardian over him. Then again, if he was that drunk then maybe he needed it…maybe just not that one. He stood up on shaky, sore legs, even these pants weren't his. He needed to leave before he embarrassed you or himself any further. This was a mistake, he can't believe he let himself get so carried away, you must have thought he was some drunken fool who cant take care of himself. Maybe he was a drunken fool who couldnt take care of himself.

He unfolded his pants and wracked his brain for whether you had told him which door was your bathroom so he could change back into his own clothes. Just as he was trying to remember which door you had said led to the bathroom, you emerged from the side room yawning.

“Good morning!” You stretched a bit as you walked into the kitchen, “I hope you weren't planning on running off before I got out here. I set the coffee to make enough for two and if you don't drink part of it, I'll be buzzing for the rest of the day.”

The lilt of your laugh brought it all back. He knew exactly how he let himself get carried away. You were magnificent, even more beautiful in the morning light, hair undone, legs exposed under your sleep shorts, what appeared to be a well loved sweatshirt hanging off your shoulders. You took his breath away, he couldn't believe you were actually real. Not some dream his drunken state had conjured to torment him.

You were so grateful to have your back turned on him, it was stupid of you to assume he would have slept in that button up, and you hadn't given him a shirt to wear, despite having an extensive collection of oversized t-shirts that would certainly have covered him. But seeing him shirtless in your living room just for the duration of your walk from bedroom to coffee maker was enough to nearly make you falter right then and there. He was so, fucking, built. How does one even get a body like that, did he live at the gym? He hadn't really explained what it was he did for work, was he a trainer? You weren't really a big gym person, but you could be convinced to start going if it meant watching him huff and puff and sweat.

“Good morning. I don't know where to begin…”, His voice was the same as the previous night, low and smooth, but this morning it was more reserved, more even and controlled, “I can’t thank you enough for helping me out last night. I really can't believe my own behavior. I’m truly sorry.”

You turned to face him, you were expecting some kind of hangover induced remorse, but he sounded genuinely apologetic, as though he had imposed himself upon you rather than having been invited as a guest.

He continued, “I know it doesn't mean much, but I don’t go out very often. I had had a rough few weeks at work and my friends wanted to help me loosen up a bit. Apparently I did a little too good of a job with that part. I'm so sorry to have put you out, I hope your night wasn’t ruined by having to take care of me. I'm grateful to you, I'm just so…”

“How do you take it?” you cut him off before allowing him to apologize to you once again, turning back around to the two cups of coffee you had poured.

“Excuse me?”

“Your coffee,” you opened the fridge to see if you even had any milk to offer him.

“I--”

“I have sugar, or honey if you prefer, and then I don't have any cream but i do have oat milk. I usually take mine with one sugar. How do you take yours?”

Nanami was beside himself, mid flagellation, completely shut down and now once again having to ask something of you, “One sugar is perfect.”

You dropped about a teaspoon of sugar into each mug, giving them both a quick stir before setting the spoon in the sink and walking over to the couch to meet him. Getting close you saw that his freckles did extend down onto his shoulders. Small scatterings of cinnamon dusted on fair, even skin. You handed him one mug, your favorite mug actually, it was dark blue and hand thrown. You had bought it at an art fair when you first moved to town, you’d tell him that story eventually.

“I don’t want you to apologize to me. I’m glad I met you last night. And I’m glad you stayed over. And I'm especially glad you're still here now.” You took a seat on your usual spot on the couch, to the right of him. He was still standing, body facing the kitchen but face watching you intently, now holding his mug but not drinking. You patted the spot next to you on the couch. He sat down, silence fell between the two of you as you sipped your coffee again. He followed suit, the steaming drink already starting to soothe his hangover. He couldn't help the soft moan the escaped him, drinking down the relief of caffeine.

“Taste okay?” you checked in.

“Its perfect. Thank you.” he felt himself loosen up, his brain choosing to be kinder and remind himself of the parts of last night that had gone well. Making you laugh, making you smile, dancing with you, the smell of your hair, your lips on his cheek. You were sat facing him, back against the arm of the couch, legs curled in front of you, he sat up right with his feet planted on the ground, allowing his poster to relax a bit and lean against the back of your couch.

You took his relaxation as an opportunity to take him in. So this was what he was like in the morning: shyer, a bit stiffer, still so fucking handsome. His brown eyes were still a bit droopy with sleep (and likely a bit of light sensitivity), a light impression of the hem of your couch cushion had imprinted itself on his cheek, his hairstyle had fallen and his blonde strands now hung loosely in front of his face. And he still hasn't put a shirt on. His torso was like something in a museum. Strong, broad shoulders sat atop full, muscle built pectorals. The hair there was light and looked soft, it became darker and coarser leading down his toned stomach. You longed to run your tongue over every inch of him, but chose instead to sip your coffee and gawk somewhat openly. Finally the silence became too much and you spoke up again,

“When do I need to have you back to your bodyguard?” you teased sliding your knee to bump against his.

“My-- oh, Gojo, don’t worry about him. He’s likely forgotten all about it.” Nanami tried to cover up the hopefulness in his voice. “Do you have anywhere you need to be today?”

It was a Friday, it was plausible you would have to go into a job today, but he didn't know what you did for work so it was equally plausible that you, like him, were off. To his delight you shook your head, smiling coyly over the rim of your coffee cup, leaning back against the throw pillows he had arranged to rest his head last night. Feeling more confident now that he had shaken off the initial mortification, Nanami scooted closer to you on the couch, setting his mug down on your coffee table. He moved one hand to gently take your mug and place it on the coffee table beside his. He then put his hands at the top of your knees and pulled you closer to him, so you were nearly sitting in his lap.

“So I have a question.” He kept his hands on your legs as he spoke.

“Mm?” you were too stunned to form any actual words.

“Last night, you said something to me. Something about wanting to wait until this morning to fuck me,” he shocked himself at his boldness, “how do you feel about that now?”

Your eyes were wide, pupils nearly all encompassing as his hands touched your skin, this was the most you had touched since the dance floor. His fingertips felt like they were burning you, but the way a hot bath burns your skin just before it becomes relaxing.

This was it, you met his eyes, flicking down briefly to his lips, then back up,“I am still, very interested. What about you.”

Nanami moved one hand over your shoulder, to the back of your neck, leaning in so close you could feel his breath on your lips and he spoke, “I can't believe you made me wait all night.”

He pushed his lips to yours, finally feeling the kiss you both had waited so desperately for. His lips were so soft, the coffee you prepared lingering on both of you. His hand on your neck rose to tangle in your hair and yours reached out to find his neck, his shoulder, his hair-- fucking ANYTHING. He leaned over you slightly, catching a momentary moan and sliding his tongue between your lips, he found himself moaning, feeling your tongue slide against his. Your hands were on his back now, feeling the muscles flex and retract at every turn of his head or readjustment of his hands. The hand not on your head how found your waist, sliding up and down your form savoring every roll and bump and divot his fingers could find. Finally, fucking finally he could touch you, his lips slotted against yours over and over, allowing your tongues adjust and readjust, it was messy and desperate and so passionate, Nanami kissed you like he would never kiss you or anyone else every again. Like a man who knew he could die tomorrow and never again know the warmth of a kiss this intense. You pulled away briefly for air and before his hungry lips could pull you back down you started to remove your top. He met your hands half way and finished the motion for you, you hadn't put a bra on since waking up, opting instead for the thick sweatshirt instead. Your chest was now as exposed as his was. As desperate as he was to have your lips on his again, he took a moment to admire you. Your breasts were full, and round enough to fit perfectly in his grip, nipples hardened already in your exhilaration, still so reactive for him. He wondered if you were wet already, and if so- how wet were you. He couldn't wait to find out. He was staring, lost in his thoughts of how best to appreciate everything you were giving him. So much care, so much trust, your beautiful body. He wanted to know how best to show you what it meant to him.

You squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. Since you shed your top he was staring at you. You didn't mind it at first, but it was starting to make you self conscious. You weren't insecure about your body, but the intensity of his gaze, how you could nearly hear his mind racing, made you desperate to know what he thought. Finally he broke his gaze away from your chest, raising up one hand to hold your right breast firmly, he looked deep into your eyes moving to kiss you again, softer and more intimately but still just as passionate as before.

“So beautiful…” he said in between kisses, “Even better than I imagined. You’re so beautiful.”

You moaned against his lips as he massaged your chest. He redirected his kisses down the side of your neck, across your collarbone and right to the breast held in his hand. He kissed around the nipple before finally taking it into his mouth. A haughty moan was pulled from you as he sucked hard, eyes flicking up to watch you arch under his mouth. He moved to the otherside, and your hand took refuge in the short hair at the back of his neck. The cropped undercut left little to grip, so your nails dug lightly into his scalp. He moaned around your nipple, eyes rolling back slightly, and hips jutting into the couch involuntarily.

You marvel at his reaction, letting out a small chuckle before moving your nails across his hair again, “You like that?”

He nods wordlessly, mouth still full of you. He knew he was kissing hard enough to bruise, he didn't care. The taste of your skin, the feeling of your body under his, of your fingers in your hair had him feeling drunker than last night. He couldn't get enough of you, he was truly insatiable. He began to move to return to the first side of your chest when you pulled him back up to your mouth, kissing him hard.

“‘Need you.” you pleaded against him

“Need you too, so fucking bad.” He agreed, leaning back upright, and bringing you with him.

You pulled off and stood up quickly, your boobs bouncing as you moved, he would have been embarrassed of the sizable tent growing in the borrowed sweatpants, if he had had any remaining brain power to think about anything other than fucking you. But he didn’t. He stood up and followed you into your bedroom. You had a queen bed, a small wardrobe, a vanity table that appeared to double as a work desk and maybe moonlighted as a craft station. He couldn’t wait to find out what clothes went in what drawers, maybe eventually you would let him keep some of his work clothes here so he could spend the night on weekdays. You turned to face him before reaching the bed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down once again to kiss you. His hands fell to your exposed waist, the skin so soft and supple, they teased along the topline of your shorts, lingering to be told the next move. Without him having to ask, you nodded against his lips, and his hands dipped underneath the waist band, finding not underwear but only skin. His hands gripped into the meat of your ass, pulling moans from both of you. Your own hands had slipped down his stomach and began to remove the second hand pants from him as well. Finding the tangled up positioning complicated, you both pulled away briefly to remove the last of your clothing before you led him in climbing on the bed. He followed suit, ogling openly at how your body curved and folded and stretched with every motion. You were nearly serpentine the way your hips shifted climbing onto your bed. His cock was so hard between his legs, pre cum dripping onto your comforter as he followed your crawl. As you turned onto your back, he was right behind you, moving himself between your legs to meet your lips once more. A hand started on the back of one of your thighs, causing you to shiver deliciously.

“You're so sensitive.” He praised, sliding a finger feather light from your ass to the back of your knee.

You mewled unabashedly, proving his point. Finger trailing back down, his hands now gripped both of your thighs, he was on his knees before you, parting your legs further to finally, FINALLY look right at your glistening wet pussy. He nearly fainted at the sight. Lower lips parted to reveal the most beautiful, most delicious looking pussy he had ever seen. He couldn't stop himself, he leaned right down and planted a kiss directly onto it. His eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation, the taste, the smell, the feel of your pussy lips against his mouth, soft pubic hair brushing his nose and he gave a long lick from bottom to top.

“Thank you,” he was so grateful to you. For last night, for taking care of him, for being here this morning, for being here at all, he couldn't believe he had found you like this, and he planned to make the most of his chance.

Never in your life had you been thanked by someone eating your pussy. But here was Kento Nanami devouring you like he hadn't eaten in weeks and whimpering gratitudes into your wetness. You hadn't had time to even realize his intentions before he pushed his tongue between your lips, and once he had your brain had short circuited, causing you to assume the initial “thank you” had been all in your head. It wasn't until it was a mantra he clung to while increasing his ferocity that you realized he really was thanking you. Your hands flew to his hair again, this time pushing back the longer strands in the front that had gathered in his face. You pulled hard when he first sucked your clit into his mouth, the moan he let out sent vibrations up your body and added to the pleasure he was already giving you. Your legs were over his shoulders, your hands in his hair, his mouth was taking you apart one lap at a time, one of his hands found your breasts again, there was so much sensation it was like he knew precisely how to make you unravel before him.

Nanami didn't even realize he was rutting his hips into your mattress, his body desperately seeking friction to his painfully hard cock. He didnt think he had been this hard in years, he couldnt think at-fucking-all. The only thing on his mind was how good you tasted, how pretty you sounded above him, he wanted to hear you say his name, he wanted to make you say his name. He brought his free hand up and slid two of his fingers up and down your folds, getting them thoroughly wet before stopping them just in front of your already clenching hole.

“Do you want these?” his voice is even lower than before, mouth pornographically drenched in you.

You nodded helplessly, just looking at him between your legs threatening to make you cum. He gave a rough squeeze to the breast he held, “No.” he corrected, “ask me.”

You knew what game he wanted to play now, you knew he could tell how much wetter you had just gotten at his darker tone and rougher grip, the tiny showcase of his strength already sending your mind reeling to know how rough he could really get with you. But not right now, now you needed him, any of him, inside of you more than you needed air. So you’ll play along.

“Please, oh fuck please Kento, please put your fingers inside me, i need it. I need it so bad, please.”

More than pleased with your efforts, he slides his fingers into you, they go in so easily, youre so fucking wet. He resumes his meal, already itching to taste you again, now using his fingers to draw even more wetness out of you and onto his tongue. He curls his fingers slightly upward and your moans raise in pitch. He’s hit it, if he keeps this up you’ll cum in no time. You're panting, your moaning, you’re nearly screaming and Kento continues to thrust his long fingers into you, hitting your g spot with inhuman accuracy. You can feel it, you’re nearly there.

“K-Kento i’m..oh fuck i..I’m cumming of fuck I--”, a half scream-half moan rips through your lungs robbing you of the end of your sentence as he pulls your orgasm out of you. You're shaking, you’re pulling his hair, you’re repeating his name over and over until it's completely garbled in your mouth. He takes everything you give him, holding your hips down firmly so you stay connected to his mouth, not letting up with his fingers until he's satisfied you’re through the totality of your first climax. He continues lazy licks as you come down from your high, slowly easing out his fingers and sucking those clean as well.

From your spot on your back you look down at him still panting and dazed from cumming harder than you thought possible with another person. You and your trusty vibrator had made some good memories, but you never expected someone could make you cum like that on the first try. He knew it too, he could see it on your face as he savored the remnants of your cum on his fingers. You moved your hands to his shoulders, weakly pulling, urging him to come up to you. He followed your lead and moved his body over you. You could finally see how fucking hard he was. And how fucking big he was. Just by looking you had to assume he was seven or eight inches long, and he was thick, thicker towards the head than at the base, two pretty veins wrapped around him, the tip was so pink it was nearly red, sticky with precum and still weeping. It curved upward, wanting to rest against his lower abdomen, and the darker blond hair there that grew at the base of him. He clearly kept it groomed, it not being too long or unkempt, but you were grateful it was there. The monstrous thing would probably only look more intimidating without it.

He could see that you were doing the same mental calculations he had seen in every partner he had ever had, and he tucked away the immature arrogant pride and chose to instead kiss the side of your mouth, along your jaw, and up to the shell of your ear,

“It’ll fit, you're already so wet for me, and if it doesn't fit all in one go, that's okay. We can work our way up to it. Trust me.” He kissed your neck soothingly, and that was all you needed. You could already feel yourself dampening again, you wanted so desperately to please him, had just made you cum so hard, you had to at least try to settle the score. Finding his lips once again, you pulled him into another desperate kiss, this time trailing your hand down and wrapping your hand around his cock. Using his already collected precum to coat his shaft, you moved your hand up and down a few times, trying to find the right rhythm before his hand gripped your wrist sternly, forcing you to look him in the eye,

“I nearly came already just from eating your pussy, if you touch me like that I’ll cum right now and I have to be inside of you at least once before then.” he moves your hand away from him and above your head. You keep it there, although direction is ungiven, and he seems pleased by this. He moves to his knees between your legs, Wrapping your legs around his waist, he grips his desperate cock and slides it against your pussy, collecting as much arousal as he can. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he knows how big he is, he knows if he bottoms out without enough prep it won’t feel good for you the way it would for him, he wants you to feel good. He wants you to make that sound again. That pretty scream of his name and pure pleasure. You watch him as he becomes laser focused on the point where you'll be connected in mere moments, you feel honored, in a way to see him like this. He’s being so attentive, so thoughtful and he's making you feel so good. Your hand reaches up and touches the side of his face, and he leans into your palm, nuzzling into it.

“I trust you, Kento. Please, baby, fill me up, I need you so bad, please fuck me.”

He presses a kiss to the heel of your hand, the light breaks in your voice making cock twitch in his own hand, he can’t wait any longer, he begins easing himself inside. He tries, he really tries to go as slow as he can, but hes so fucked out and desperate he cant control his movements as well as he usually would. Feeling him push inside of you, you’ve never been so full in your life, he stretches you so nicely, a slight burn but the combination of foreplay and your first orgasm soothe any pain or anxiety you may have had. His eyes are closed, his brows are furrowed, lips parted and still wet. He looks so beautiful like this. You think he's finally gotten all the way in as he stops his movements, you couldn't be more wrong, his hands lift your hips up slightly, more aligned with his pelvis and he slides back out an inch, before pushing the rest of his length inside of you. You feel him against your cervix, you feel him along every inch inside of you.

Looking down at you, he finally opens his eyes, you look so beautiful filled with him. Mouth dropped open, a warm flush settling over your chest and neck, one hand gripping his arm tightly, the other buried in the blanket beneath you. He wants to keep you like this forever, he attempts to push even deeper, seeing how far you can really take him. Gasping your back arches away from his grasp, but he pulls you back to him.

“Just like this, take it all. Look at you, such a good girl for me. Taking every inch.” His praise coaxes you to relax again. He's so deep inside of you, it feels amazing, “You think I can move now, baby?”

You nod desperately. He starts a slow thrust, opening you up little by little. He's hitting every spot inside of you, you don't know how but you can already feel another orgasm building from just the first few thrusts.

“How do you expect me to fuck you properly, when she wont let me go.” he teases above you, sliding his fingers in a V shape along your innermost fold, right where you’ve gripped around him so tightly.

“‘Mm sorry.” you gasp out barely registering the conversation.

“Oh fuck,” he sputters, finally able to pull completely out before diving back in.

Youre finally warmed up enough for him to fuck completely. He pulls on your legs to place over his shoulder as he deepens his thrusts. Your moans are syncing with his, his movements are starting to become jerky again, trying to control himself as much as possible, Kento brings a thumb to circle your clit making you see stars behind your eyelids, when you open your eyes the only thing you can see his him, gripping onto you leg firmly, staring intently at how well you’re taking him, watching himself move in and out of you. He feels you start to grow tighter around him before you can even start to whimper out,

“Fuck, fuck, kento I---aughhh.” you came around him with no warning,the feeling of you pussy spasming and tightening around him is nearly enough for him to lose his own. He releases a deep moan.

“Where can I cum, please baby, fuck where do you want me to cum, i’m so fucking close.” he can feel the sweat dripping down his face, he’s so dangerously close to blowing it inside of you. He wants to so badly, but he needs to hear you want him to.

“Inside, please, inside me, i need you to fill me up, please fuck.”

Music to his fucking ears, he carried on with his thrusts as you continue begging him to cum inside of you. Your wicked tongue is so dangerous, anything you asked of him in this moment he would do, as long as it meant he could stay like this forever. His thrusts grow shorter, faster, more frantic, he’s truly rutting against you, so deseperate for release the only word on his lips is a repetition of “fuck” and your name. It sounds so good coming from him, like he was born to say it. Finally, he lets out a long strangled cry, coming from low in his belly. You can feel his cock twitch inside of you as his release covers your inner walls. He thrusts a few more times, emptying himself completely before stilling his movements, still locked inside of you.

Heavy pants fill the room, cutting through the thickened air. Nanami collapses over you, resting his head on your chest, the sound of your heart quickening underneath him cutting a smile into his face. You brush the front of his hair off his head once more, cycling your fingers through the sweat-dampened strands. Contented, satisfied sighs escaped both of you, neither of you spoke, neither of you wanted to, not wanting anything to break up this bliss of this moment.

Morning light dripped through your window curtains, golden rays illuminating his features, the freckles on his cheeks, the soft wrinkles by his eyes, a small scar cut into the arch of one eyebrow. He really was beautiful, you wondered how many people had gotten to see him like this. A man of his stature, his strength, completely unguarded. One of his large hands found yours, bringing it up to his lips, kissing your fingers, so sweet, so intimate. You really could fall in love with him. Finally, he looked up to face you, eyes catching the light and turning gold, he winced lightly, still feeling the sensitivity of his hangover. You flattened your palm in the path of the sun’s beam, offering his tender eyes solace in the shade. The gesture is short lived as he moves up to press his lips against yours again, his still buried cock shifting and igniting your inner nerves once again. Feeling you begin to tremble, Nanami wills himself to pull out and move onto his back next to you, one large arm wrapping around you, desperate to not be parted from you for even a second. You rest your forehead against the side of his neck snuggling up to his side. His smell fills your nose, the lingering cologne that you first smelled on the club’s crowded floor, mixed with something so uniquely and naturally him. You felt his lips press onto your forehead, arms pulling you tighter to his side.

Kento was the first to break the silence, “would you want to have dinner with me tonight?”

Your lips curve warmly already imagining how handsome he’ll look like in a nice restaurant, candlelight flicking over his face, maybe he’ll even wear his glasses.

“I’d love that.”

Author’s notes:

Okay thank you guys! I hope you enjoyed!I know I did, I know I said it earlie but I haven’t written in forever so I would love to hear some feedback! Don’t be scared, I know I can take it!

it’s up on Ao3 too.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Soon, My Love.

Summary: Eris never thought he would be much of a poet, but being with Y/n has proved him wrong.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1845

Warnings: hints of beron being a meanie, curse words ig, uhh and a beaten up eris :( uhhh also its kinda cheesy ngl lmaoo

A/n: yall these two are adorable i cant omg 🥺 again, ily all soo much for everything🥹

anyways, enjoy!

P.S BERRY ILY THANK YOU FOR HELPING ME AND LETTING ME YAP (yes i will say this in every days post leave me alone)

p.p.s: this is again based on an indian song....

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

It was one of those days again. The high lord was mad again, and his eldest son had once again been dragged to the dungeon.

No one talked about why he was taken to the dungeon so often, nor did anyone question why he always ended up locked in his quarters with healers at hand for days after.

But everyone knew why.

He was beaten.

Like some training dummy, he was always dragged to the dungeon by his father to be beaten to a pulp, within an inch of death before being tossed back to his rooms.

No one was allowed to enter his chambers after these beating sessions, but being a maid, Y/n was let in to clean his room.

Being a maid, she was underestimated. After all, what would a lowly servant do? Heal the wounds faster? Give him the things he was deprived of? Love and comfort?

Yes, yes she would.

He had been summoned by the high lord a few hours before, so Y/n knew it was time for her to go check up on her lover.

She had heard through some of the older servants that Eris had been taken to his room moments prior, and that the healer seemed more calm than usual. It in turn calmed Y/n, knowing Eris’s condition was probably better than any of his previous beatings.

Broom in hand, she scurried through the winding corridors, her head hanging, her shoulders curved inwards as she knocked on his chamber doors. The door swung open, and the healer's assistant let Y/n in. Quietly, she began her work, trying to peek into the bedchambers.

She was rewarded.

He was naked from the waist up, bruises littering his torso, decorating his face. It made Y/n’s heart thud in pain, watching him hurt. But this was still better than him being covered in blood, unable to move without assistance.

"My lord, are you sure you don’t want me to heal-"

"Are you deaf, Wood?"

The healer’s mouth shut with an audible click, and moments later, he was shuffling out of the bedroom into the sitting area, his assistant hot on his heels as they left, closing the door behind them.

Y/n released a sigh, then leaned the broom against the closest wall before she entered Eris’s bedchamber.

His eyes met her, instantly lighting up, a barely noticeable tilt to his lips.

"How are you?"

He shrugged like she was asking him about the weather and not his health. "Been through worse."

She gave him a stern look. "Can you never answer like a normal person?"

"Am I a normal person?" She shook her head, tired of his antics as she stepped closer, now within touching distance. "Then I suppose I can’t."

Y/n sighed, eyeing the healing bruises on his face, under his eyes, on his jaw, his cheeks.

Her hands were shaking, but she tried to force them to still as she reached up, gingerly touching the black-blue spots.

He hissed, and she jerked back, tears in her eyes.

"Does it hurt?" She whispered, vision blurring.

"I told you, Y/n, I’ve been through worse. I’ll survive-"

"But I won’t!"

He leaned back like he’d been slapped, his eyes fixed on her. She huffed, angrily swiping at her cheeks, cursing the damned tears that rolled down the expanse of skin.

She cursed herself for already crying.

"How long, Eris? When is he going to stop?"

Eris swallowed. "My love, It’s not that easy to kill him-"

"I know that, Eris. But I can't see you getting hurt every other day. Can’t see you get beat over nothing. I- I just can’t."

Y/n sniffled, her hands roving over the multiple bruises on his torso, avoiding his gaze.

"Y/n." His fingers reached up to cup her jaw, lifting her head, the other one reaching out to grab one of her shaking hands. "I know, my heart. I know it pains you to see me hurt, but there is nothing I can do by myself. I have to wait for my allies to formulate their plan, so I can have aid-"

"And when are they going to be done formulating their plan?"

The vanserra sighed, shaking his head. "They say they are planning, and as much as I wish to ask them how long it is going to take, I cannot rush them."

Y/n glared at her secret lover. "I swear to the mother if they don’t get that bastard to his designated hell soon, I will."

Slowly, a grin spread across his inviting lips, and Y/n surged forward, burying her head in the crook of his neck. "I want you to be happy, Eris. I just want you to live freely, without worrying whether breathing a little too loud will get you in trouble."

"I know, sweetheart, I know."

He pulled her closer. As close as he could while sitting on the table, his legs swinging as she stood between them.

Eris pressed his lips to the crown of her head, sighing.

"Soon, my love, soon."

She nodded against his skin, closing her eyes.

"And when he’s gone, I can finally let the whole world know I belong to you." He teased, his breath tickling her ear.

Y/n giggled in response, pulling away as she slapped his chest. She met his gaze, the warmth, the happiness in them warming her insides.

Even the sight of him simply smiling brought her indescribable happiness. She did not know what she would do when he actually found the happiness he deserved, without restraints.

Watching him now, she was reminded of the lines in a poem she had once read in a book when she was younger, the book as worn and loved as the lines were to her.

I laugh when you sing,

I cry when you wither away,

I get drenched in the shower of your love, my love.

She had not understood how someone else’s emotions could affect the other’s happiness so much, but now as she stared at those eyes she could hardly breathe without, she understood.

She used to think being in love would be like finding yourself someone to come home to. Someone to kiss and hug and live with.

But oh how wrong she was.

Love was so much more than that.

It was having someone to tend to your wounds, someone who would do everything for you just to see that flash of happiness in your eyes.

It was waking up to a warm world on the coldest winter night, it was the first sun after long days of rain, it was the first spring flowers after a long desolate season of grey.

It was knowing that your heart, mind and soul no longer belonged just to you, and still being happy to share yourself with someone else for the sole reason that you trusted this other being.

It was knowing happiness after a lifetime of suffering, it was peace after a century of restlessness.

It was hugging Eris, giggling after long days of sobbing together.

Soon, he had said.

"I’ll go now, or someone is bound to come looking."

Eris’s mood instantly soured. He grumbled under his breath, but Y/n only laughed, standing on her tiptoes as she pressed her lips to his cheek.

"I’ll see you later, hmm?"

He nodded, his sad eyes following her back, his lingering gaze like a soft caress as she closed the door behind her.

Soon.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Everything stopped in a moment,

When you held my hand with yours .

I shall follow wherever you are going.

You’re always by my side when I look,

I am the season and you’re the breeze, Sweetheart.

Eris smiled, leaning back as he surveyed his work. He had always been much of a literature freak, but he had never thought his love for reading poems would then turn him into a poet too. He could write poetry, sure, but he had never had the desperate urge to.

But maybe that’s what love does to a person.

Ever since he’d met the shy little baker on the outskirts of town, he had begun writing poetry in hopes it would help him decipher the unknown beating of his heart, the different rhythm he had never experienced before, the unnatural warmth that made his whole body tingle every time she even blinked his way.

Of course, he had been right in that it helped him understand what this feeling was.

He just didn’t think he would be in love when he started.

You gave me all the colours of love,

And pulled me towards yourself,

Let’s get lost somewhere,

Where the time shall stop forever,

And tomorrow never comes, Sweetheart.

The day he had confessed his love- however unexpected- had been the happiest day in his life.

He’d had a nightmare that morning, of Beron finding out about the bakery his son had been frequenting a little too much for it to be considered normal. He had jerked up in his bed, panting and trying to hold back his sobs.

He had decided then that he would have to either stop visiting without letting her know his feelings, or he would have to stop visiting after confessing his feelings.

He knew which he preferred.

So he had gone to a jeweller early in the morning, picked two rings, and then ran to the quaint little building.

Y/n had been surprised when he had shown up to her doorstep, huffing as he begged her to follow him to the nearby forest because he wanted to talk, but after a lot of pleading, she had agreed.

That day, he had asked her to marry him. He had slipped the ring onto her finger, and then told her he would have to stop meeting her because it would then put her life in danger.

The next week, as he was strolling through the palace lawn, he had spied a new maid.

He had been over the moon that day, catching himself smiling at times when no one was present.

That day, Eris had made a vow to himself.

If you want, I’ll give you a million dreams,

If you’re happy then so am I

And as he had watched her leave, just a few hours prior, he had decided that maybe, rushing his allies would not be too bad.

Fuck waiting, he was tired of watching her eyes flash with sadness everytime he had to tell her that she would have to continue watching him get tortured every time his father threw a temper tantrum.

So he had written a letter just after she left, telling Rhysand to, basically, get his shit together or their deal was off.

If they wouldn’t help him kill his bastard of a father, then he would do it himself, consequences be damned.

He had promised himself that he would do anything to make her happy, and so he would.

Even if it forced him to choke his father to death.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[kurosstuff]

Lute x fallen angel! Reader: Fallen

Short fic- tell me what you think! Hope you all enjoy it-!

Summary" lute SHOULD hate you. But. How can she?

HEAVY SPOILERS MENTIONED LIKE AKL OVER(in this like one?) IDK PLEASE. ALL HAZBIN FICS I WRITE ARENT SPOILER FREE UNLESS I STATE THAT IT IS. YOUVE BEEN WARNED

Warning(s): blood/fights, love at first sight, maybe ooc lute? Idk yoy tell me I never wrote her, heartbreak, also from my knowledge? Wing movements(from birds please correct me on the info if I do it wrong I do not own birds) in denial, Adam and his vulgur language

Ngl I love lute-

Lute a cruel sadistic woman. Odd place for a woman in heaven. But given her status as the leader of the executioners. The one who leads the battles against those vile sinners. Who trains the angels picked to fight herself. The woman second in command to Adam himself.

It's a fitting role.

Never in a million years(and she HAS been around for that long. Or so she lost track of such a useless thing) would she? A ruthless exterminator encounter this thing other fully pure angels speak of.

Love

Why would she? Lute is a fighter. A warrior. The one who Adam HIMSELF entrusts his life too. Why would she fall for anyone? She doesn't even know if she CAN feel such a thing.

But as always- Life(or afterlife?) Is full of surprises. She was well aware of a new angel coming in. Recently passed in some horrific accident she doesn't care for the details just knows- need to pick them apart see if their ruthless enough to fight. But the second she went into the room her eyes widden- an odd feeling in her chest as If her heart- her cold heart was heating up.

"Hello~ are you uh Lute?" You asked shyly- which given the situation even the most outgoing would be just as shy. She blinked, glad for the mask to hide the flushed expression - the confusion on it.

Clearing her throat, she nods slowly, ensuring you saw "I am. Welcome to Heaven, " she greeted uncharacteristically polite- gentle. If you were to be mistaken, she ignored the odd look Adam gave her, looking at the name tag, even your name is pretty- she blinked.

What?

She did NOT just think that. She did NOT Find you pretty. Gorgeous. She does NOT notice how your eyes sparkle how friendly your smile is as you both talked. She most certainly doesn't notice how your wings are the single most gorgeous pair she's ever seen. How white it is- signaling how pure you are. How the gold etched into it- putting to shame her grey and black wings- smiling soft behind her mask. How how she wishes to touch the- she stops she will NOT think that

-

It became as clear as day to her and anyone else. Lute? Is inlove. And not just anyone. The new angel- the kind soul who? Adam states follows her around like a lost puppy or in Adam's kind words "Hey look. It's lutes bitch!" Oh how she wishes to punch him everytime- hit that smug look off. But she won't. Not yet.

A common tradition in heaven- like the birds in the human realm(maybe a odd similarity she presumed. She doesn't care for the human realm after all) finding a mate, a lover with the most gorgeous wings. It was no surprise you gained such attention

Much to her displeasure.

Grumbling watching as how you yet again were surrounded by angels around you- and ad always rejecting them before that smile she oh so adored. Yet would never state aloud was sent her way- making her scowl darkly(but on the inside? She was warm) quickly making your way to her she noticed how you fidgeted. How red you were "out with it. What is it?" She grumbled out no matter how warm and soft she was on the inside? Her words on the outside could never match. No matter how she wished it

White cleared her vision making her back up scrunching her nose before finally realizing what it was- a feather. Not just any old feather. Your feather "i.. i want you to have it.. I know the meaning bur when I was preening my wings u couldn't help it.. I want you to have my feather" they whispered watching as she gently took the feather.

Silently accepting them courting her with a soft smile. Maybe she can make it a necklace?

-

As great as it was up there. There were rules. Easy to forget. Easy to break. But rules nonetheless. Once Adam instructed her to strip a betrayers wings, Lute sighed. Grumbling loudly going to the room. Ignoring the odd almost somber pitiful look Adam gave her. Hiding the feather in her shirt tucked safe near her heart, she hummed, stepping inside fixing her helmet before freezing

"No-"

Her heart dropped paling more then she was already at the bloodied sight

"NO WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!"

She roared storming to your bloodied frame she couldn't help but break her never-ending composure for the first time, kneeling to your side "do you HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA WHAT THIS MEANS?" She snarled ripping her mask off showing her teary face. Knowing her counter was now a sinner. Her angel was a traitor. A million emotions went through her head glaring down at you with every emotion but the one she should feel.

It wasn't hate.

She ignored her feelings, swallowing it down she ignored the reasoning of what you did. Of what you SAID. putting her mask on, she steeled herself. She was an executioner. A peacemaker. She takes care of the issue. So she pushed you down with her foot grabbing your once gorgeous wings now bloodied gold- in her one hand grabbing her spear she sliced. Ignoring how she was covered in your blood. The deafening screams of pain. Of agony. How you begged for her. She took a sigh taking her mask off giving you the chance to se her one last time. Without the mask. How she stared cold at you.

Before the ground opened up, "lute. Before I go- please I lo-" she cut you off, kicking you in. Closing her eyes as the ground closed. For the first time ever. She fell to her knees, holding the now broken wings sobbing out for a sinner. How was she not a sinner to for showing the regret. Showing the selfishness in this?

~~

It wasn't long before she saw you again. Traveling down with Adam to meet with Charlie and her girlfriend- to Lute it was a vile relationship. Not because of the sex- no- because of the liar Vaggie is. How that bitch betrayed her kind and then fell for the ruler of hells daughter. She could almost laugh.

Blinking, ignoring the yelling match of Adam and Charlie. Looking out the window, she froze mouth wide open- even though the demons back was turned. No wings but a tail and horns. She knew that laugh. She knew that smell. No matter how different you looked. Eyes soft watching you turn. Even as a demon. You truly are a beautiful creature. She softened her gaze behind her mask before looking away in disgust. Not with you.

But herself.

Lute a angel? Finds a demon attractive. Sure it's you but. Your a demon. A angel and demon together is vile. Disgusting in all sense of the worse.

But even now. She can't help but still long for you. Long for the almost relationship. Frowning, she looked back at Adam, who watched her with a frown. She knew they'd have a talk. Sighing, she followed after him with a deep sigh

She truly wished this outcome was different. How she longs to see you once more. Touching the feather on her chest she sighs

The only way she would be with you. Is if she was fallen as well. What a cruel irony.

[gutterfuuck]

your mark fics have me 🫣🫣🫣 i was literally tweaking over that bff mark one…i need more bff mark immediately omfg…

ask and receive!

kind of a continuation on this post here, mdni!!

i have written just like the format of my last post about pervy bff mark, though will be working on a full fic pretty soon, so glad u have enjoyed it!

cw: stalkerish behaviour from mark ngl, making out, dry humping, mark is kinda subby but more because he is desperate and not rlly a sub? i am not sure how to describe it haha ^^;, drinking, college mark and reader

bff!mark who wakes you up with breakfast in bed, making sure to not be beside you before you woke up, he didn’t want you to think that you had done something with him last night… or rather, that he had done something to you. he would be milking his cock for weeks thinking about how you tasted on his tongue, craving for more, craving to have you pulling on his hair and whimpering his name.

bff!mark who says, “oh, it was no big deal. gotta make sure nobody tries to harm you, y’know?” as he leaves your room in response to you thanking him for getting you home last night, remembering how he had helped you clean up and change. you trusted him so much, he was such a gentleman. you were glad to call him your best friend.

bff!mark who blushes fifty shades of red when you run up to him the next day, grabbing onto his arm and pressing your soft breasts against his skin, his brain short circuiting as he tried to spit out a simple hello, butterflies plaguing his stomach.

bff!mark who almost creams his fucking boxers at the opportunity of getting something from your dorm room for you; “i just need my bag! i can’t believe i left without it this morning, i really don’t have the energy to sprint across campus- mark pleaseeee..~” you begged, and how could he refuse?

bff!mark whos hands are shaking as he slots your key into the door, unlocking it and stepping in. he found your bag almost instantly, of course he would recognise the bag he had gifted you. you always used it, always carried around a piece of him.

bff!mark who can’t help himself from locking the door behind him ‘5 minutes’ he thought. he could blame his lateness on tiredness, he’d tell you that he just walked back instead of running like he had on the way there.

bff!mark who pulls his hardening cock out of his pants, spitting on his hand so he could fold up one of your pillows and thrust into it, so he could pretend to fuck your cunt and get off on the idea that you’d never know that you would have your face pressed up against his dried precum later as you drifted off to sleep.

“y/n so good… wan’to f-fuckihn- hold you..” your bff groaned as he thrusted his hips up into the soft fabric, eyes closed as he thought about how pretty you would look with his dick in your mouth, how much he’d love to have your head bobbing up and down on his cock, how much he craved tasting your tight cunt again and how much he wanted to bounce your hips up and down onto his length; how much he wanted to fuck you into the mattress until he felt satisfied. “pressing on me like that.. c-could’ve-should’ve touched your tits..” he whispered, throwing his head back with a deep moan.

bff!mark who has to stop himself from cumming on your pillow, quickly pulling his pants back up and grabbing your bag, returning it to you with a smile. you’d throw your arms around his shoulders, jump up into a little hug with your leg raised… you made him so horny he couldn’t think straight. he especially couldn’t think straight when you asked him if he wanted to come over tonight, watch a movie, have a couple of drinks together since the guy who had promised to see you tonight bailed on you.

bff!mark who arrives with a large bottle of cheap vodka and an off brand bottle of coke, his eyes scanning you up and down in your almost skimpy pajama set. you don’t mind showing off a little skin, mark would never think of seeing you like that.

bff!mark who watches you refill your cup again and again; you always got carried away with your alcohol. he sips carefully, pretending to take large gulps. waiting. until-

“wanna kiss?” you slurred, taking mark by surprise. had he heard you correctly? he almost grabbed you by your shoulders and slammed you up against your dorm’s kitchen wall, grateful for his self restraint.

bff!mark who can’t talk— only act— you had knocked the breath out of him. he nodded lazily, biting his tongue before pressing his lips against yours experimentally, quickly pulling away… his hand cradles your cheek, lips connecting with yours again.

bff!mark who is so eager, who doesn’t even wait until he’s pressing his tongue into your mouth, loving the way you gasped lightly, twitching in his jeans at the way you shyly pressed your tongue against his. mark used his other hand to subtly rub his hardening dick, mind cloudy and body hot. there was no way this was actually happening.

bff!mark who wants to tell you how badly he’s wanted this; wants you to know about how he touches you when you sleep next to him, how he couldn’t help himself from stealing your underwear and cumming his brains out at the thought of your tight cunt walls compressing his dick.

bff!mark grabs your waist, guides you both over to your bed and pulls you onto his lap, his lips never daring to leave yours and his tongue fighting against yours. “f-fuhckk..” he’d whine for a second, totally lost in you. your hips gyrated on top of his bulge, causing a loud groan to come from his throat. there was no way in hell this was happening- he must’ve died and gone to heaven

“n-need you to suck me off- n-no- i wanna lick out your pussy so bad— fuck let me put my tip in-won’t hurt i promise, y/n please-“ he babbled, hips bucking up against your thin pajama shorts, quickly pulling his pants down so it could bob out freely, cock head wet with precum.

bff!mark who melts into you, hands not knowing where to touch or where to go, your mixed saliva dripping down his chin with how messily he kissed you. the best thing about it? you were sober enough to remember this time. fuck. he thought as he pulled your shorts to the side, looking down at how your pussy left a damp spot on his jeans, i can’t wait to fuck up your insides.

sorry to cut it off short here! i want to save all of the good stuff for the full fic i will be working on. i hope you enjoy! i lowkey love bff mark now… don’t fuel me…

[rapturously]

Idk exactly what to ask for, but I have an ✨idea✨

Dwayne who seemingly has a penchant for choking his SO. He just loves the little whimpers and moans they make, and the way they squirm.

Really basic, ik 💀. You can take this and run, or simply enjoy this thought with me, but I wanted to share 🥰

moving in stereo.

( dwayne x fem!reader. )

➾ pairing ; dwayne x fem!reader.

format: one-shot — requested.

word count: 5.9K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), making out, dirty talk, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), bloodplay (he’s a vampire), breast-play, biting, hair-pulling, scratching, breeding kink, scent kink, p in v sex, missionary position, rough sex, begging, unprotected sex, mating press (a little bit), choking, bruising/marking, dwayne is hot

author’s note: i am so obsessed with him, it’s not even funny ngl :’) also, I have a couple of other fics/drabbles that I’ll probably post tonight too, I’m definitely feeling very inspired! If you haven’t voted on my poll, please do so! thank you guys sm for your continued love & support !! ❤️

Beads of blood filled your mouth as you absentmindedly chewed at the skin of your cheek, flesh taut between your back molars — you hadn’t intended to bite down as hard as you did. A singular glance at Dwayne’s hands had contorted into shameless ogling, smitten hues discreetly flickering over the veins and smudges of grayish grease coating his fingers.

He had a way with machinery that transcended you — he often claimed that it was simply natural instinct, but your running theory was something buried in his past life. Dwayne was known for his stoicism and quiet demeanor, neglecting to educate you on his background.

It must’ve been a life of hard work — otherwise, his hands wouldn’t have appeared so rough and calloused. They weren’t smooth and spindly like Marko’s, or pretty like Paul’s. They were taut and thick, dexterous and built for destruction, if he let it.

Hands that had held you many times before, touched you in ways that you longed to feel again. A shudder rolled down your spine as you daydreamed, mind floating into a fantastical haze of lascivious thoughts. If it weren’t for the presence of the other boys, a tendril of drool might’ve leaked from the corner of your mouth.

“It’s fucked, isn’t it?”

Paul’s agitated groan reverberated throughout the cavern as he crouched beside his boombox, slapping a palm against the top of the speaker, as if that would cure all ailments. His brows furrowed together, lip curled in annoyance as he knocked his hand against the machine a second time — for good measure.

“You’ll ruin it if you keep it up.” Dwayne’s monotonous remark echoed from the opposite side of the lobby. He was entrenched in repairing his motorcycle after it had gotten vandalized by a Surf-Nazi who didn’t live to tell the tale. Paul’s beloved stereo was the least of his concerns.

“How are we gonna listen to Alice?” A begrudging sigh escaped Paul, whose theatrics weren’t out of the ordinary. He huffed, falling in a dramatic heap along the edge of the dilapidated fountain. “Can’t you fix it, Dwayne?” He asked, peering toward his brother, who seemed entirely uninterested.

Silence filled the chasm between them, prompting you to stifle a smile. Dwayne didn’t enjoy being bothered whenever he was working on a project — he was always one to see it through until the very end.

David and Marko emerged from their abysmal resting place. Once the sun disappeared behind the ocean and dusk consumed dawn, the boys became wildly active. “Paul,” David’s voice carried, always domineering without even trying. “Let’s go.”

Disappointed in the lack of closure for his treasured boombox, Paul relented, rolling off of the stone bannister with an exaggerated sigh. He ruffled your hair in passing, and smacked Dwayne on the way out, who didn’t flinch or move a muscle. He simply exhaled — you could sense the twinge of irritation in his sigh alone.

Paul snickered, hopping up the ledge alongside David and Marko. “See you later, bud.” He sneered, waving at you as he departed with his brothers. Once the trio slunk away into the moonlight, it left you and Dwayne by yourselves in the cave.

You could’ve watched Dwayne work for hours, captivated by the way he dismantled the machinery, handling the finer pieces with nimble digits. He was wrist-deep in the grease-laden guts of his motorcycle, surrounded by a myriad of scrap and parts. His dark brows were furrowed together in stark concentration.

Intrigued, you abandoned your perch — a rickety, velvet-cushioned chair that had come with the hotel’s ancient wreckage. Paul’s stereo was sitting along the ledge, awaiting a tune-up that you knew Dwayne would inevitably provide. You sat down, inspecting it for any damage — it looked unharmed, on the outside.

“Do you think it was a user error sort of thing?” A burst of laughter escaped you as you opened up the hatch for the cassette tapes, noticing a rather banged-up copy of Alice Cooper’s Constrictor from ‘86. It was a good choice — you had to commend Paul’s taste in music.

Dwayne’s soft, bemused huff was all you needed to hear, prompting you to smile. You never mistook his tranquil, halcyon demeanor as indifference — he was a man of very few words. Even his temper wasn’t violent or tempestuous, like that of Marko or David. His placidity in most things was what drew you to him in the first place.

Being a human amongst a den of rancorous vampires wasn’t your intention, but you were happy — happiest with Dwayne, above all. He was the best boyfriend you’d ever had, not that it was a lengthy list. You idly fiddled with some of the switches on the boombox, removing and reinserting the cassette before closing it up.

Much to your chagrin, the stereo didn’t work — maybe it wasn’t Paul’s imagination after all. You gently nudged it back along the ledge, abandoning it for now. “How come you didn’t go with the others?” You inquired, folding one leg over the other, tapping the heel of your boot against the dusty stone.

There was a slight shift in his body language — a mere shrug of his broad shoulders, accompanied by the noises of metal clanging, gears twisting, and then he grunted. “I’m not looking for dinner.” Dwayne replied, matter-of-factly. He was in the midst of replacing the engine on his bike, placing the damaged part aside, hands stained in dark ichor.

With a soft hum, you pushed yourself off of the ledge, wandering over toward Dwayne’s scrapyard — a rather cluttered corner of the cave that acted as a makeshift garage. You sat along one of the flat outcroppings of rock, opting to watch him fix up his motorcycle. It would intrigue you more than messing with the boombox ever would.

His pearlescent teeth clenched around a wrench, clutched between his maw as he focused on putting the new engine back in. There was a quiet appreciation that he held for you — you were always respectful of his hobbies, if this even counted as one. Dark eyes flickered toward you, sitting there in your billowing sundress like some statuesque angel.

Dwayne appraised you in his usual silence, eyes carefully raking along your physique, as if he were undressing you through gaze alone. His jaw tensed, a fire beginning to spark within his chest, threatening to spread like an encroaching wildfire the longer he ogled you.

Sundresses were a hot commodity — and they never lasted, either. Dwayne made sure of it, and once he got his hands on you, that pretty fabric shielding you from him would cease to exist. He made it up to you with the gift of another, but rest assured, it would be shortlived.

It was a mutual feeling, the silent staring. His keen hues settled along the supple curves hiding just beneath that thin veil of fabric while you were captivated by the visual feast of strong, capable hands and taut forearms. You folded your hands within your lap, beginning to absentmindedly chew at your inner cheek again.

Your scent wafted throughout the short distance between the both of you, heavy with hints of your favorite perfume, a saccharine concoction that Dwayne had grown accustomed to. He loved your smell — it was unique to you, invading his senses as he continued his work.

Those strong, muscled hands of his were buried in the underbelly of the motorcycle, carefully placing the new engine back inside. He began to fasten it all into place, removing the wrench from his mouth, quickly fixing it all up with a series of bolts, screws, and metallic plates.

“I’ll teach you sometime.” Dwayne was, oddly enough, the one to shatter the comfortable silence between the both of you. He prided himself on playing mechanic — his ability to handle such equipment and repair it was rather renowned. Once he was satisfied with the job, he sat back, peering toward you.

Warmth oozed from those earthen-brown hues of his, coupled with a subtle adoration that only he possessed for you. Your smile only served to further it, the only thing to make his dead heart pump to life again.

“I’d like that,” You mused, canting your head to one side. “I think you should fix Paul’s stereo, too.” Even if Dwayne had brushed him off before, he would fix it and have it ready for him whenever he came back. It was the right thing to do, anyway.

Dwayne huffed, lips twitching into a threadbare smile, wrought with traces of amusement. He didn’t say anything — he didn’t need to. He wiped his hands off along the crimson cloth he carried in his back pocket, ridding his hands of engine grease and oil.

He stood, filling in his full height as he bent down to give you a kiss, hand carding through the back of your skull. It never failed to make you shudder, haplessly squeezing your thighs together as you reached for his forearm. Powerful, taut muscle flexed underneath your fingertips, and his kiss briefly intensified before he withdrew.

That familiar aching sensation flickered to life between your legs, a dull arousal pooling within your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to cling to him, beg for another kiss, but Dwayne was already over to the stereo, inspecting it for any damage it might’ve had.

For Dwayne, your mind was exceptionally loud — he could read your thoughts, hear them screaming from afar, which he happened to smile at from where he stood. The feeling was mutual, but he wanted to make you stew in it for a little while — it heightened the experience.

As he dismantled the stereo, you decided to go elsewhere — to Paul’s nest, which wasn’t the brightest idea, but he had an impressive collection of cassette tapes. You began climbing toward the rocky slope that led off into alcoves, using some of the ropes hanging about to pull yourself up.

“Where are you going?” Dwayne asked, seemingly finding the source of the boombox’s disarray — there were pieces of tape stuck in the machine.

“To see what Paul has to listen to,” You mused, nose wrinkling in amusement. “It’s the least that he can do for you since you fixed it. We should go listen to music.” Truthfully, Dwayne owned that stupid stereo just as much as Paul did — joint custody, you’d called it.

Hawkish, dark hues drank you in from afar, and Dwayne decided that he’d indulge himself in your wishes, picking up the boombox by the bottom. The handle had been broken off long ago — courtesy of Paul, once again. He simply trailed behind you, briefly pressing his hand against the small of your back when you made it up the incline, keeping you steady.

Paul’s nest was notoriously cluttered — in a very fascinating and macabre manner. It was littered in trinkets, things he’d taken from people he fed from, bones and all, or general thievary. The boys were all like this, but not to Paul’s level.

Posters of hair-bands and metal groups hung all around the rock, illuminated by flickering candlelight. It smelled faintly of marijuana, decorated by a patchwork array of tapestries, clothes, and stolen jackets. The guitar he’d lifted off of a traveling rock group sat on his bed — he always talked about starting a band.

A mountain of cassette tapes lay in a semi-organized heap, many of them taken from Videomax or anywhere he could find them. Dwayne simply stood at the fringes of Paul’s nest, watching as you picked through his extensive collection. You smiled at the handful you’d grabbed, rejoining Dwayne as the two of you made for his nest.

In an amusing juxtaposition, Dwayne’s nest was noticeably simplistic — yet, his personality was scrawled all over it. He liked to read, keeping a trunk of books, tools he’d taken from garages, and some trinkets stashed away in a large piece of a drawer.

He hadn’t bothered to invest in a bed for several decades — not until he got entangled with you. When Marko had mentioned it to you in-passing, it was rather intriguing, but you never asked Dwayne about it.

With the stereo now placed at the foot of his makeshift bed, placed atop a rather rickety wooden trunk, you ejected Alice Cooper from the hatch and put in The Cars, instead. Dwayne happened to regard this choice with curiosity, sitting along the edge of the mattress.

Moving in Stereo began to drift through the alcove, and you promptly fell back against the plush surface, tucking your hands atop your chest. “This song reminds me of you.” You murmured, gazing at the cavernous ceiling, focused on the jagged edges and outcroppings of rock.

Dwayne seemed curious, twisting slightly to face you. Even when sitting, he towered over you, indomitable and immovable, a wall of sheer strength and muscle. “Why does it remind you of me?” He wanted to hear your answer, eyes flickering toward your exposed stomach.

You smiled, somewhat embarrassed, but you decided to answer him anyway. “I don’t know,” You began, rolling over onto your side, propping yourself up with one hand. “Just a bit of a mystery, but alluring. It’s pretty magnetizing.” With a soft exhale, you began to pick at a stray string on one of the blankets that covered the mattress.

“Magnetizing,” Dwayne echoed, withholding the urge to smirk. Instead, he joined you, laying on his side as he mirrored your position, face mere centimeters away from yours. “You got a way with words, girl.” His chest shook with a brief huff before he leaned in to kiss you.

If a kiss could have destroyed you, this was it — Dwayne’s mouth consumed you, intensified by your seemingly innocuous words. He tasted good, like spiced smoke and the faint bite of copper.

You were eternally grateful to The Cars — Dwayne was careening into you, broad chest flush against yours, veined hand grasping at the base of your skull. Thick digits massaged at the nape of your neck, coaxing you close until there was no space left between you, lips voraciously tangling with yours.

He ripped all wisps of air from your lungs, as cold as ice as he shrugged off his jacket. Arousal reactivated inside of you, no longer dormant as your warm hands reached for his chest, feeling broad muscle underneath your palms. He felt like a god — chiseled, forever perfect — you were sometimes in-awe of his beauty.

In awe — Dwayne smirked against your mouth, unable to help himself when it came to your overactive imagination and racing thoughts. He pushed his hand underneath your shirt, fingers tracing along your curves as he began to feel a familiar tightening in his jeans.

Your scent thoroughly intoxicated him — your natural musk, the cling of perfume, the arousal coalescing between your thighs — it was a perfect amalgamation. Dwayne exhaled, sitting up and taking you with him, hands hooking into the hem of your shirt as he peeled it off of you.

His lips were on your flesh again, hands tearing your thin brassiere apart with ease, reveling in your warmth. Dwayne pressed a string of kisses along your neck, feeling the thrum of your pulse point pound against his mouth. The shorts you wore still clung to your frame, but they wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Dwayne,” You sighed, The Cars becoming nothing more than atmospheric background noise. Liquid heat pooled between your legs, a shiver rolling down your spine as he laid you down against the mattress, covering you with his body. Your eyes locked together as he stared down at you, gaze boring right through you. “I need you.”

Dwayne kissed your neck, sucking enough to create a hickey before he traveled to the base of your throat, peppering kisses across your collarbone. “Where do you need me, sweet girl?” His husky, warm baritone made you shiver in delight. Those eyes raked over you in rapture, full of reverence.

“Everywhere,” You whimpered, goosebumps coalescing along your spine. Dwayne’s huff of laughter made you smile, and you quickly urged him closer for another kiss. His mouth crashed against yours, passionate and blistering, full of an unrestrained want. “I’m yours.” A sweet moan tore past your lips.

A wave of possessiveness swelled up inside of him, coupled with that innate desire to keep you all to himself. Dwayne didn’t have an issue sharing with his brothers, but you? No — you belonged to him, and him alone. A growl rippled across his broad chest as he tore his lips away, returning to your sternum.

There was a prowess to him that the others didn’t possess — Dwayne was emotionally intelligent, just as vicious in the same breath. He was an enigma of so many things, drawing you in with his arcadian charm. Your fingers reached for his dark tresses, perusing through as he kissed your chest.

“You’re beautiful,” Dwayne’s affectionate baritone rumbled across your flesh as he continued his slow, deliberate string of kisses, making his way to your breasts. He trapped one nipple between his lips, gently suckling on the sensitive mound, the other hand tugging at your shorts. “Perfect.” He uttered.

You sighed, fingers tangling within his mane of black tresses, pulling and carding through. It felt silky between your digits, like velvet. Those veined, calloused hands gripped along the meat of your hips, strong and unwavering as he lifted you to discard your shorts.

Arousal pooled between your legs, honey-thick as it toyed with Dwayne’s senses. He wanted nothing more than to drown himself between your thighs, devour you until you were a trembling, mewling mess. Your thoughts shamelessly echoed that sentiment, prompting him to reach toward the apex of your thighs, hand breaking past the waistline of your panties.

Dexterous fingers languidly slipped along your slick cunt, making a line right for your clit. Your body responded in a near-violent fashion, hips jolting up into him, hands curling within his hair. “D—Dwayne!” You whimpered, chasing after the friction his hand provided. Those dark hues hadn’t left you, transfixed on your smitten countenance as he kissed your stomach.

He looked big when his body was spread over yours, but when he began to slink toward your thighs, he was hulking, a massive wall of muscle. Dwayne’s kisses continued, littered all across your pelvis and thighs, fingers still winding you up as he pushed in between your legs with those broad, bronze shoulders.

His visage was rugged with a fine layer of dark stubble, tangible as it scratched against your inner thighs. He curled his hands into your panties, and instead of removing them, Dwayne simply tore them asunder, leaving remnants of fabric behind. The alcove reverberated with the sounds of material being ripped apart.

A thin sheen of arousal painted your cunt, scent stinging his nose in the most pleasant way possible. The velveteen flesh of your inner thighs were layered in faint bite marks — his own, from the past. He looked to you for approval, thumb lazily circling around your clit.

“Please.” You huffed, head bobbing up and down in an idle nod as he moved his lips toward a patch of flesh, unmarred by any bites. Dwayne was always very sensual, and even when he fed from you, it felt so lascivious. Your body jolted, hips writhing closer as he began to bite down.

Dark, earthy-brown hues melted away into pools of a golden-red, unnaturally vibrant. The initial sting of his bite made you wince, but he was always gentle with you when it came to feeding. As sharp teeth drew blood, a low growl reverberated throughout his chest, causing you to shiver. Your fingers continued to trace through his mane of black hair, a myriad of moans escaping you.

Restraining himself from taking this further, he had his fill, kissing over your now-healing bite. Dwayne licked his lips, effortlessly tossing both of your legs over his broad shoulders as he tugged you closer. You were somewhat folded at the hips, but you didn’t care.

Dwayne’s gaze was incendiary, intense — he stared you down from his perch between your thighs. You were visibly flustered, staring right back, nearly shrinking away altogether. He kissed your thighs, mouth dangerously close to your aching cunt. “You ready, girl?” He asked, inhaling another gust of your scent.

You nodded, feeling every fiber of your being scream with desire, and you wanted him terribly. “Yes,” You whimpered, hands having splayed out at your sides instead, no longer buried within his hair. “Dwayne, please,” His deliberation made it worse. “I want you so bad.” Your hips wriggled again, desperate for his mouth.

A warm, hearty chuckle emerged from his lips, making his herculean form shake between your legs. “Just relax,” He soothed, noticing how coiled and poised you were. Those strong, veined hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you spread apart. The flat of his tongue lapped across your slit in one long stroke. “Relax, Mama.” His voice made your head swim.

Relaxation wasn’t exactly your forte — you were too wound-up, too drunk with desire to simply sit still and melt into the mattress. Dwayne’s tongue began to lap you up, greedily consuming every drop of your sweet arousal, working along your cunt. His fingers clamped hard, enough to leave behind the inklings of bruises, etched into your flesh like his personal brand.

Your thighs threatened to squeeze at his head, but he kept your legs firmly planted on his shoulders, pinning you down and rendering you immobile. Your taste saturated his tongue, and he only chased after it, dutifully lapping at your slit as his nose absentmindedly grazed against your clit.

Dwayne was relatively silent — and you didn’t mind in the slightest. The only ambiance happened to be The Cars, your delighted moans, and your boyfriend’s deep, rumbling grunts. His tongue worked wonders on your aching slit, cunt clenching pathetically around nothing as he lapped you up, gaze flickering towards you.

Your countenance was a vision of beauty, all contorted into an expression of complete and utter bliss. Your hips writhed, with very little room to go considering that Dwayne had you locked down, arms bracketed on your thighs, keeping you caged in against him.

A heavy fire burned bright within the pit of your stomach, demanding to be extinguished. Throaty, noisy moans escaped you in droves, vocalizing your delight as Dwayne vigorously lapped at your cunt. He alternated patterns, between soft and exploratory and recklessly needy. His mouth occasionally brushed over your clit, causing you to shiver.

Each time he ate you out, it was almost like the first time all over again — blissful, filled with a lust-infused passion that threatened to swallow you whole. Dwayne was beyond attentive, savoring you as if you were the most delicious meal he’d ever had.

He lowered himself toward the mattress, musculature flat and poised between your thighs. Those strong, thick arms kept you held in-place, keeping you locked in as he continued to lap at your core. His hips rocked forward, harshly grinding against the bed to relieve some of the friction.

Much to your surprise, Dwayne got off on pleasuring you above all else. There was something intimately carnal about it, knowing that you only made those sounds for him, only let him touch you. Your hips jolted forward, met with a barrage of an eager tongue and mouth as he lapped at your cunt.

Dwayne grunted, lips opting to purse around your clit, instead. Your reaction was visceral, moans ascending to an excitable crescendo as your hands flew toward his hair. He grunted again, attempting to vocalize his own satisfaction of you pulling and tugging on his dark tresses as if they were reins.

A burnished-gold coloration had swallowed brown irises whole, flickering down towards your blissed-out visage. Your body had a mind of its own, twitching and writhing as his mouth relentlessly assaulted your aching cunt. Pleasure licked acros your frame, burning along your sensitive nerves. He was vigorous and attentive, throat itching with a dull, familiar ache.

Hunger could wait — Dwayne merely placed that feeling into the recesses of his mind. His tongue continued to cascade across your slit, lapping at your arousal before he returned his attention to your clit, suckling on that bundle of nerves. He steered you towards your orgasm, mind swimming with a thick haze of lust, overwhelmed by your heady scent.

“Dwayne!” Your voice carried above the nest, echoing throughout your cavernous surroundings. Fortunately, you were alone — you had little desire to mask how you felt about him. Needy digits gripped at his tresses again, hips bucking into his mouth until you were simply a pile of mush, unable to respond.

You were lost to the white-hot heat of your release, an explosive sensation that caused you to quiver and spasm in delight. A glittering perspiration danced across your hot flesh, sparkling from the glow of the candlelight. “Dwayne,” You huffed, a whimper emerging from the back of your throat as he dutifully cleaned you up.

He released your hips from his ironclad hold, crawling along your body until his broad frame nestled between your thighs. That taut, muscled hand rest against the base of your throat, digits gingerly squeezing on either side of your windpipe. You initiate a rather tantalizing kiss, able to taste yourself upon his tongue.

A clattering sound resonates in your vicinity, Dwayne wrestling his belt off of his hips as his jeans sag upon his frame. He’s swift, wrangling his pants aside with one hand, the other clutching onto your pretty throat like a vice, evoking a string of sinful noises from your mouth. You kiss him with a desperation that he matches tenfold.

His hips brush against yours, and the distance is nonexistent, closed by your stoic paramour, whose normally-cold gaze reflects with a semblance of warmth. Your hands clamor for his broad shoulders, sinking into the expanse of bronze skin, nails clamping down when he drags the head of his cock against your cunt.

“Speak up, sweet girl.” Dwayne grunts, lips ghosting above the shell of your ear. He thoroughly enjoyed your begging on occasion, with this happening to be one of those occurrences. His lips briefly press against the side of your face, stubble grazing across your silken complexion.

With an agonizing pace, he continued to toy with you, pushing his cock against your entrance, but declining to go any further. A pained whine escaped you as you tilted yourself closer. The hand around your throat squeezes, effectively commanding your attention.

“Please,” You sputter, squirming in delight whenever those veined digits tense around the slender expanse of your jugular. “Dwayne, please,” Your simpering pleas are met with a hiss as he sluggishly sinks into you, inch by inch. He lets out another shallow rumble when your fingers brazenly dig into his shoulder. “Please move!”

Cold-blooded and dangerous — but not to you, not now. The icy temperature of his flesh swallows the warmth wafting from you as he invades your space, musculature eclipsing any light. His shadow falls across you, visage awash with his own carnal delight. You’re tight around him, aided by your arousal.

Another satisfactory snarl rips forth from his mouth, echoing next to your ear. You wrap your legs around his broad hips, gasping when he began to move. His cock hit new depths, pulling halfway out before Dwayne pushed himself back in again. His pace was rhythmic and passionate — not sloppy or too rough.

The pad of his thumb draws circles along the curve of your jawline, the rest of his hand tight around your windpipe. You moan, legs locked like a vice as he continues to roll his hips forward, cock battering its way into your cunt with a domineering force. Dwayne was taking it easy on you — if he lost control, it wouldn’t be very pretty for either of you.

His lips find yours, kissing you fervently as you reciprocate in a flurry of passion. Heat bled from you, arousal seeping from your core as Dwayne continued to rut into you, one hand splayed beside your head. The sparkling sheen of his ring glints in the lower light, mouth relentlessly assaulting yours in a barrage of kisses.

Dwayne grunts into your mouth, but the entanglement is shortlived as he moves to cover parts of your neck in kisses — whatever parts aren’t covered by his hand. You feel the sudden scrape of razor-sharp fangs drifting over your flesh, testing your resolve. You shudder, eyes fluttering shut as you grip and pull on his hair.

Sometimes you simply forgot that he was a specter of the night, a fanged creature who had the capability to rip you apart at any moment. His fangs continue to hover across your neck before they retracted, lips replacing them as he kissed your pulse point. There was an added element of thrill and exhilaration as you whimpered, his name spilling from your mouth over and over again.

You nearly see stars when he pistons himself into you again, slow and savoring you, enjoying the sluggishness of it all as Dwayne continues to drag out his thrusts. Your cunt clenches pathetically around his length, prompting you to whimper and moan, goosebumps coalescing along your spine.

“More,” It was incoherent, a string of needy babbles that escaped you in droves. “Dwayne, please,” You whimpered, chewing at your lower lip. In the midst of his own pleasure, Dwayne’s calculating stare flickered toward you — it wasn’t a good idea. “Please, please fuck me.” You begged, hearing the growl that echoed deep from within his chest.

“You sure?” Dwayne didn’t want to hurt you, but he was inclined to obey your needy command. Another grunt escaped him as he steadily rutted away into your tight cunt, deliberating in the midst of it all. “Won’t be gentle.” His stark warning was concrete, you knew this — you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you nodded several times over, digits gently curling around his wrist. “Yeah.” You panted, chest fluttering with a tight sensation as he gave you a hasty, passionate kiss, a parting gift as he squeezed at your jugular. That steady rhythm began to pick up instantaneously.

Dwayne made sure to watch you closely, gaze hawkishly trained upon your body as he began to fuck you. The intensity and the heat rose like a tidal wave, consuming the both of you as he pounded away at your poor cunt. Your legs rattled like leaves, attempting to stay locked around his waist.

The taut muscles of his shoulders and abdomen worked in-tandem, body effortlessly exerting strength. For him, it was nothing — for you, it was a different experience entirely. He was rough, manhandling you with one hand as he grabbed at your hips, enough to leave behind faint impressions in the form of bruises.

Moving in Stereo still swallowed any background noise, encompassing the whole of Dwayne’s nest. You were a complete and utter mess, devolving into a puddle of sweet moans and needy whimpers, especially whenever he applied pressure around your throat. He squeezed whenever he thrust into you, force akin to that of a barely-restrained battering ram.

Even in his self-proclaimed roughness, Dwayne was still executing some measure of restraint. “Mine,” His thunderous voice swarmed you from all sides as he fucked you into submission, gritting pearlescent teeth together as he approached his climax. You kept nodding, back arching into his touch.

“Dwayne,” Dwayne — it feels like the only word you’re capable of saying, rolling from your tongue with a wanton moan. You tug on his tresses with an urgency, feeling his hips grind against yours, flesh kissing flesh with unyielding thrusts. His cock continues to bury itself deep inside of your needy slit until it can go no further. “S—Shit! Right there!” You cry.

He huffs, musculature flat against you, chest to chest as you coax him in for another kiss. You whimper into his mouth when his tongue tangles with yours like a heat-seeking missile, teeth breaking the thin skin of your lower lip. Pearls of crimson trickle onto his tongue, fusing lust with hunger — all for you.

Dwayne didn’t stop, showing no signs of stopping as he fucked the both of you through an orgasm, painting your cunt in hot ropes of seed. He doesn’t pull out, a sensation that the two of you feed off of. If it weren’t for his vampirism, you’d be round with his children — the fantasy would continue to linger on for as long as he pleased.

“Shit, Mama,” Dwayne’s strained baritone sends shivers throughout your body. He rarely talks during sex, and this felt like a treat as he continued to thrust into you, feeling your nails dig angry crescents into his shoulder. He groans, savoring the feeling of your constant tugging on his mane of dark tresses. “You’re perfect.” His voice tapered off into a possessive growl.

You want to scream, a raging fire surging throughout your body before it finally comes to an end, extinguished by Dwayne’s rough rutting. He could’ve kept it up, continued all night long with his cock stuffed inside of you, but humanity was both a blessing and a curse. Your thighs shook underneath his grasp, and he began to slow, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

His hand left behind a searing brand around your throat — whether or not the imprints are visible, it’s the sensation that refuses to leave. Your windpipe feels a little sore, but it’s a pleasant burn as he comes to a crawl, nestling his forehead against yours.

The excitement and blissful thrill of the moment steadily begins to fade, composure replacing a very heavy lust. Your heart thrums beneath your breast, beginning to crawl to a more uniform beat as you nudge forward, kissing Dwayne again. Your lips are swollen, split down the middle with a patch of dried cruor.

Dwayne’s exhale of relaxation comes after, and the tension within his body unfurls. He kept himself inside of you still, feeling your poor cunt clench around his cock when he adjusted his position. His kiss is astoundingly tender this time around, able to taste the pang of copper upon your lip, accompanied by your natural sweetness.

A sense of euphoria overwhelms you, body feeling wonderfully heavy as Dwayne peppered kisses all along your jaw and collarbone. “You alright?” He murmured, making sure that he hadn’t pushed the limit with you. It was easy to become lost in the moment, forget about your humanity.

You nodded, wincing slightly when he pulled out of you, resting his head against your stomach, arms encircling themselves around you. “Better than alright,” You mused, tracing your fingers throughout his hair. “You think Paul will mind that we borrowed his stereo?” Laughter burst forth from your mouth.

A bemused huff escaped Dwayne as he reached over with one muscled arm, hitting the ‘NEXT’ track on the boombox. He pulled you close, nose wrinkling in disdain as Drive by The Cars came on — it wasn’t exactly his taste in music.

“Like you said,” He rumbled, peering up at you with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. His arms effortlessly tugged you down to his level, lips twitching into a faint smirk, rare for Dwayne yet mesmerizing all the same. His mouth brushed above yours. “Joint custody.”

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hiya,

Do you think maybe you could write a Casey x Autistic!reader (not necessarily the same autistic reader from the previous ones) where casey snaps at reader after an interaction where reader thought everything was all fine and dandy, but things were in fact not fine and dandy (plus casey being under a lot of stress from work).

Ive had multiple social interactions where i get whiplashed because i thought i was doing all the right things and saying all the right things, but in fact wasn’t and getting scolded or teased (negative) about it…

-Ara

Hey, Ara! So glad to see a request from you! 💖 Every time you interact with any of my stuff, I'm like, "Oh, yay! Ara's here!" Ngl this one was hard to write. Mostly because I also have been in many social situations where I am trying so hard to do or say the right thing and end up messing things up for people I care about. There are a lot of things about being autistic that I've grown to enjoy and cherish, but this one... oof. This one's still hard. It's a little longer than my usual, but I hope it's what you're looking for! – illdowhatiwantthanks

They Go Low

Casey Novak x autistic!fem!reader Warnings: people being meanies, angst (resolved at the end though!), hurt/comfort-ish (?), explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 3.2k

Summary: It's the annual New York County Lawyers Association gala, and you're going as Casey's date. You're terrified of messing something up, socially and, well, when the worst happens...

You exhaled heavily as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your tie and your pocket square. You looked good, objectively speaking. You’d gotten a haircut the day before. The suit was custom-made and fit you like a glove. And Casey had helped you put on “just a little makeup, babe.” But you weren’t worried about looking good at the New York County Lawyers Association Gala. You were worried about acting good.

Casey came up behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist. She looked so pretty it took your breath away. Full evening gown, in a deep, forest green, with a halter top, which you loved because it allowed the dress to contrast against Casey’s hair. Rich and red and glorious and one of your favorite parts of her, even if she did get self-conscious about it sometimes.

“You look so beautiful, honey,” she said, planting a light kiss on your cheek, careful not to leave any lipstick.

“Not as beautiful as you,” you told her. You knew that parties like this should be fun. What you wanted was to be a perfect partner for Casey, to be someone worth showing off at an event like this. Casey already felt like an outsider at a lot of these events because she wasn’t New York law royalty like some of the others. She didn’t come from money. She’d worked to get where she was. Hard.

You’d come a long way in accepting autism as part of yourself, even come a long way in loving yourself for it, thanks in no small part to Casey. But small talk? With strangers? It wasn’t your strong suit. You wanted so badly to make Casey proud, but you always felt like you were subpar. Like there were whole levels of conversation going on above you. You could tell they were there. You knew you were missing things, but you couldn’t tell what you were missing.

You let out another shaky breath, fidgeting, trying hard to keep your fingers quiet at your side as you stimmed, practicing for when you’d be at the gala.

“Hey,” Casey said, turning you around to look at her. You avoided her eyes, but she bent her head a bit so you had to meet them. She ruffled your hair a bit, playing with the waves, with the fluff of it at the top of your head. “You okay?”

You shrugged. “Just nervous.”

“You…” she started, straightening your suit jacket and helping you with your cufflinks. Your heart swelled; you hadn’t even asked–she just knew. “...are charming and funny and sweet. You’re so smart. You’re a great listener. You’re good with people, even if you don’t think you are.”

You nodded, drying your sweaty palms on your suit pants.

“You’re gonna be fine, honey. Alex will be there. So will Liz and Rita. If you get nervous and you can’t find me, or I’m having to talk with other people, you can always find them. They know you and they like you.”

“Okay,” you conceded, voice shaky.

In the taxi, you played with Casey’s fingers–a nervous tick that she indulged. You liked the feeling of a fresh coat of nail polish on her nails, liked to press on it, but you were careful not to press too hard and ruin it tonight.

“I like this color,” you told her, brushing the pads of your fingers along her wine-red nails.

“Me too,” she agreed. “You don’t think it looks too much like Christmas? With the dress?”

You surveyed her quickly and shook her head. “No. It looks nice. You look nice.”

Your leg started to bounce as you got closer to the venue.

“Casey, what will I even talk about? The weather!? The Bill of Rights!?” You were starting to panic a bit, even as you tried to shut it off–it was Casey’s night. You did not want her having to take care of you during the NYCLA gala.

“Well, let’s make a list, yeah?” Casey said, taking your hands and flattening them between hers to relieve the tension you held there. “You can ask about where they’re from and talk about where you’re from. That’s always a classic.”

You nodded, determined not to need help this evening.

“You could ask what type of law they practice.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Casey, I don’t know anything about law.”

She nudged you with her shoulder. “Sure you do! I talk about work all the time. Just talk about the lawyer-y stuff you know from me.”

“Okay.” You were talking more to yourself than her. “Okay, I can do that.”

Casey squeezed your hand as you exited the cab. You took a deep breath, offered her your arm, and walked in, determined to make Casey proud.

And for the most part, you did alright. Casey introduced you around during the cocktail reception, and you figured out what to say. Your go-to was making people laugh. If you could just find an anecdote, just latch onto a story that resonated with these people, then everything became easier. Then it was just a routine, like giving a rehearsed speech instead of improvising every conversation.

You ate dinner, spoke cordially, if quietly, with the other people at yours and Casey’s table, and laughed in all the right spots at the program. You’d even managed to keep your stimming to a minimum.

But now the night was winding down. Groups of lawyers were scattered about the room. When you returned from the restroom, Casey seemed in deep conversation with a few other people, and you didn’t want to interrupt, so you went to stand by the bar, nursing your last cocktail of the night and trying desperately not to look awkward or out-of-place.

A tall man, imposing, but with a friendly face, approached the bar, ordered a dirty martini, and stood nearby. He nodded at you, and you nodded back.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he said.

“Yeah, I don’t attend a whole lot of lawyer events,” you replied, taking a quick sip.

The man laughed. That had been one of your best lines of the night.

He introduced himself, extending his hand. “Trevor Langan.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You shook his hand, flashbacks of practicing a “firm handshake” with your dad in the back of your mind.

“So what brings you to the NYCLA gala, if you’re not a lawyer?”

“Oh, um, do you know Casey Novak? She’s in the Manhattan DA’s office?”

Langan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, sure! Casey and I go way back.”

You smiled, glad to have something to talk about, something you could talk about forever–Casey. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Ah,” Langan said, tipping his drink toward you, as if in a toast. “Lucky woman.”

“Her or me?”

He burst out laughing and you tried to laugh along, too, even though it had been a genuine question.

“Good one.” He took a sip of his martini. “In all seriousness, though, Casey knows her stuff. She doesn’t crack. Hard to believe she’s human sometimes.”

Oh, now you could hit your stride. Casey as a person. You loved getting to show off Casey’s soft side.

“She’s great at her job,” you agreed. “Not that I know a ton about being a lawyer, but… she struggles, too, you know? Some of the SVU cases can be really emotionally difficult. Like, I know she’s working on one right now that’s really taking a toll.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? What’s the case?”

“There’s this serial rapist,” you explained. “Apparently, they’ve been trying to nail him for years. They had DNA evidence linking him to one of the rapes, but I guess the judge threw it out recently? Not really sure why… But Casey says there’s not a whole lot else to go on, so she’s been working really hard with SVU to dig up more evidence.”

“Huh,” Langan said, nodding toward Casey as she made her toward you both. “Sounds like it might be a lost cause.”

You shook your head, leaning into Casey as she placed her hand on the small of your back. “Nothing’s a lost cause with Casey. Right, honey? I was telling Trevor about that case you’re working on.”

Casey seemed to grow stiff beside you. “The serial rape case?” she asked, and you had to look at her face to confirm what you were hearing. She looked… angry? Scared? You couldn’t quite tell, but it was some flavor of upset. Maybe she was still worried about the case…

“Yeah,” you confirmed, hoping to lift her spirits with a little optimism. “You know, about how hard it is right now because the judge threw out the DNA, but that you’ve got it because you always do.”

She gripped your hand tightly, so tightly it almost hurt, and glared at Langan. “That’s fucking low, Langan. Even for you.”

“Just business, Casey,” he said, holding up his hands in defense.

You felt so deeply confused. Something had gone terribly awry in this conversation. Maybe Casey and Trevor Langan weren’t friends after all?

“You’re an asshole,” she spat at him. “She doesn’t know any better.”

Okay, so they were talking about you. Your mind raced back through the conversation, trying to figure out if you’d said something wrong.

“Yeah, honestly, Novak, I wouldn’t have put you two together,” Langan observed. “I don’t know that she’s quite in your league. You know, mentally.”

You blushed furiously. You got the jab on that one, or at least the implications of it. That you didn’t deserve Casey. Which might be true, but it still hurt for someone else, someone who barely knew you, to see it and say it.

For her part, Casey looked like she might clock Langan with a strong right hook. “Well, she’s way out of yours.”

And with that, Casey pulled you away, out into the brisk, New York spring night. You tried to catch her eye as she hailed a taxi, but she wouldn’t look at you. You were growing increasingly anxious. You’d fucked up somehow. You knew it. You could tell. And you must have fucked up badly or Casey wouldn’t be this mad.

She was quiet on the way home, fuming. And she didn’t hold your hand. She always held your hand. Your stims got more anxious, more obvious, along the ride. You wanted to ask her what was wrong. Wanted her to tell you what it was you’d done to mess everything up, but you were afraid to ask in front of the taxi driver.

You opened your mouth to ask as soon as the door to the apartment shut behind you, but Casey was faster. She was angry. Her face was red. And she was nearly crying. Casey never cried.

“Why the fuck would you tell Langan about that case, Y/N?!” she yelled, furiously kicking her heels off.

You felt your heart drop, panic run up your spine like ice. “I– I was just trying to talk about lawyer stuff.”

“Not that stuff! Case details!? Babe… this is just common sense!”

Your heart felt like it was being suffocated. Your voice was shaky and weak. “H-he said he knew you, that you went way back.”

Casey laughed and pressed her hands to her face. “Oh, yeah. We sure do. Way back.”

You were trying so hard to get what she was saying, but your brain wouldn’t quite make the connection. “I… I don’t understand, Casey.”

A tear streaked down her cheek. “Of course you don’t understand!” she railed. “You never understand!” She sat down heavily, rubbing her forehead. “He’s the fucking rapist’s defense attorney, Y/N! And now he knows we’ve got nothing!”

You felt like you’d been slapped in the face. In fact, you almost would have preferred Casey actually slap you in the face. Tears filled your eyes, and you knew you were about to lose it. Casey had been mad at you before, but not like this. And you knew you didn’t understand a lot of things. You didn’t catch social nuance. It went right over your head. But to hear it from Casey… Casey who usually made you feel like there was nothing wrong with you. You’d ruined something. You’d ruined something important tonight. You felt guilty, but more than that you felt ashamed.

Your hands twitched by your side, and your breath came in huge, desperate gulps, and you knew you were on the verge of breaking down. And that last thing you wanted tonight was for your breakdown to be another fucking thing that Casey had to deal with. Another thing for her to fix. You’d already given her enough to fix tonight.

“Be right back,” you said, because it seemed like something normal to say, and you didn’t want to just exit. You walked quickly to the bathroom and shut the door behind you, locking it.

You sat on the floor and curled yourself as tightly as you could into the corner where the wall and the shower met, pulling your feet to your chest. Suddenly, everything felt very tight, too tight, and you yanked off your tie and your suit jacket, unbuttoning your collar because you could barely fucking breathe right now. You held your head in your hands and rocked back and forth, trying and failing to regulate your breathing. You kept hearing Casey’s and Langan’s words in your head, as if they were on a constant loop, replaying in your mind’s eye: She doesn’t know any better. She’s not quite in your league. You don’t understand, you never understand!

You knew you were crying, but it wasn’t something you were in control of, just hot tears streaming down your face, just your heart beating so rapidly you didn’t know how to tell it to slow down. You’d fucked up. You’d fucked up so bad that you’d hurt Casey. Maybe you’d fucked up so bad that Casey wouldn’t even want to be with you anymore, and who could blame her? You didn’t even really want to be with you. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

You heard a soft knock on the door, but couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge it, let alone open it.

“Y/N…” Casey called, voice muffled through the door and through your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “Will you open the door, honey?”

You couldn’t respond, didn’t want to respond, felt worse for Casey having to worry about you now. As if you hadn’t already given her enough to worry about tonight.

And your rocking back and forth, your absolute spiral, stopped only when you heard Casey’s voice crack, when you thought she might be crying. And your instinct to take care of her took over your instinct to wallow in self-loathing.

“Please, baby,” she begged. “I’m so sorry. Just let me in.”

You scrambled quickly to the door and unlocked it, then scrambled back to your corner, huddling protectively, your body literally shaking. You were scared, you realized. You didn’t like being scared of Casey. If anything, Casey should be scared of you, and how’d you’d mess things up for her. You buried your face in your hands as you heard the door creak open. You didn’t want to meet her eyes, terrified of what might be in them.

You heard Casey approach you, could feel the shift in the air around you as she sat down next to you, the rustle of her dress as she adjusted it.

You were so anxious that you were gripping tufts of your hair. You weren’t going to pull it out, but it gave you something to grab, at least.

“Y/N, honey, can you look at me?” she asked, and you could tell from how thick her voice was that she’d been crying.

You shook your head, still rocking back and forth.

She exhaled deeply, then continued. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. You do understand, okay? You understand me. You understand when it matters. You didn’t do anything wrong tonight. It was a dick move by Langan.”

You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at Casey. You were suspicious of her. Casey always made sure you were okay. You could see her lying to you to try to make you feel better. You felt her brush a bit of hair out of your face and jerked away.

“Look, if anything, it’s my fault,” she continued. “I should have been clearer about what lawyer things to talk about or not.”

Now, this you couldn’t abide by. Casey making it her fault? No. You lifted your face, blotched red with tear stains and looked at her, and the way her makeup ran–clearly she’d been crying–it broke your heart.

“You shouldn’t have to fucking explain!” you cried. “That’s not fair to you, Case! I should just know, and I don’t because I’m fucking dumb!”

“Hey,” she said, her voice sharp as she grasped your face in both hands. “You are not dumb. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

“Stop lying to me!” you pleaded, more tears dripping down your face.

“Look at me,” Casey said, her voice rough with emotion as she held your face even tighter. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You know what is wrong? That you have to act a certain way for all those people tonight to like you. That’s dumb.”

You tried to look away, but she only gripped you harder. Her voice broke and you wanted to cry even more, cry with her and for her.

“Honey, you are so smart,” she continued between gulps of breath. “And so kind. And you have such a special way of making people feel like they can be themselves. You know you make me feel more loved than anyone ever has? You remember everything about me, everything I say. And you listen and you notice things and you… you make me feel like I’m who I’m supposed to be.”

Your sobs had quieted a little, until you were just shaking now, hiccuping with the aftermath. “You are, Casey,” you choked out. “You’re perfect.”

“See that?” she said, smiling a little and wiping your face with her hands. “You are twice the person Trevor Langan is. You build people up, you don’t bring them down.”

You let Casey slide next to you, let her wrap her arm around you and rest her chin on the top of your head.

“I’m still so sorry,” you mumbled. “I fucked up your whole case.”

She sighed and chuckled. “Honestly, it was already fucked. And Langan would have found out sooner or later.”

You let out a shaky sigh and settled into Casey, your head tucked under her neck, ear pressed to her chest so you could hear her heartbeat drawing you back down from your spiral.”

She breathed evenly, running her hands gently through the short hairs at the back of your head.

After a few minutes, Casey kissed the top of your head and pressed her hand to the side of your face, holding you close to her chest. “I love you, you know that?”

You nodded, snaking your arms around her waist and burying your face in her neck. “I love you, too.”

[starseungs]

lunchtime tea, served by yours truly. ksm.

kim seungmin x fem!reader — getting dragged over to the student council office instead of the cafeteria was far from your lunchtime plans. too bad seungmin seemed to think otherwise.

genre/s — fluff, humor if it counts, historical fantasy, academy au, duke's son!seungmin x marquis' daughter!y/n • 1.3k words

warning/s — petty noble disputes, seungmin implies a nepotism plan (laughs nervously), both of them are in their second to the last year of academy = they're both around 21 !!

note — here's a short fic i whipped up as i finish take a shot ! yes, its inspired by those rofan manhwas with academy arcs/settings. im obsessed with those ngl

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

“Would it really be such a crime to enjoy one peaceful lunch session, Your Grace?”

You sank down with a huff on the smooth velvety sofa propped in the middle of the spacious office room, not paying any mind to the way the door shut with a soft click despite your strong swing to open it earlier. A pair of footsteps other than yours echoed in the space, the flat, heavy heels of the figure’s shoes clacking with strong authority. Yet, you remained unfazed despite the strong aura permeating the enclosure���choosing to stand your ground with a click of a tongue.

Seungmin sighed at the sight of your demeanor. 

“And I believe it would be against academy ordinance for you to call me by that title within the campus premises, Lady Y/N.” He reprimands you with a low drawl before carefully taking a seat at his desk located front and center against a massive glass window, his silhouette strengthening as he leans forward to rest his arms on the desk. You could only whine in mockery at his reply.

“Boo,” you scoffed before crossing your arms and craning your head to stare at him. “Such a stickler for the rules, are you not?”

Seungmin hummed. “I suppose you may be right, but could I also offer you information on my father’s well-being?” He says with a tone implying sweetness, even if you knew otherwise. 

“The Duke is alive and well—yes, I am aware,” you pressed for a smile as innocent as you could manage, enjoying the way Seungmin’s formal facade fell apart slightly before getting gathered up once again. The young Lord cleared his throat before continuing the questionable exchange between the two of you.

“Therefore, we should not be having this conversation in the first place.”

“However, you are the heir to the dukedom, if I recall correctly?”

“Yes, you do.”

You then brought your hands together in a resounding clap at his answer, signifying a remarkable conclusion. “Then it is the same thing.”

Seungmin groaned tiredly at your unbelievable words. “It is clearly not—” he suddenly paused mid-sentence. You watched as his eyes narrowed with an inquisitive glint before he took an obvious intake of air. “I’m getting the slight inkling that you are doing this to raise my temper.”

A prominent laugh bubbled its way out of your throat. “I do find that side of you quite charming, yes.”

“I will pretend to not hear your comment, My Lady,” Seungmin pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately trying to subside his growing stress. “And I would like to inform you belatedly that a peaceful lunch should be the last of your priorities at the moment.”

The involuntary squawk that came out of you voiced your offense. “Well, this is surprising news, as I have not received any notice about a new dietary restriction!”

“It is not—” Seungmin caught himself again. You grinned mischievously at his obvious struggle before collecting yourself when you felt a pointed glare being sent in your direction. He exhaled heavily, “Proceeding with the matter at hand, are you aware of the number of complaints the Theta group has placed upon your name?”

“I do believe there has not been a single soul in this academy who has not,” you hummed in acknowledgement.

“My Lady, forgive me for being rude; however, the answer I was hoping for was to be about how you are planning on addressing this issue.”

“Oh,” you blinked. “Then, I plan to do nothing about the issue.”

A small thud was heard from Seungmin’s direction, prompting you to look over to see what had caused such a sound. Low and behold, the sight of the academy’s best student holding his head down towards the polished mahogany desk in defeat—rendering you unsure of what to do next. There had only been a few times in your entire lifetime that you had seen Seungmin completely shatter his dignified demeanor, and you had known the man since you were six. Now you fear that you had actually crossed a line. 

“Y/N,” he raised his head ever so slightly to lock eyes with you, his next order coming out as a plea. “Just explain why you poured a cup of tea over Lady Colette’s head.” 

“Then forgive me as well for my words. However, in my perspective, Theta is nothing but a pathetic excuse for an institutional social group,” you sighed, remembering the events of the tea party yesterday. “I do not know why they still prove to be the most popular social group for ladies when the Zeta group has always been better. Theta are barely anything worth more than a babble of obnoxious noble daughters who prefer to place themselves on a higher pedestal than they deserve. Lady Colette was terrorizing a freshman from a country-side barony. I only did my best to stop her, considering the fact that mere words seemed to hold no interest for her.”

Seungmin raised a brow. “Quite an interesting way of describing them, don’t you think?”

“Well, I did send my apologies before doing so, did I not?” You smiled back as part of your reply, proudly this time. Seungmin could only scoff, albeit greatly amused.

“You have got to stop trying to outsmart me in times like these, Y/N,” he said, standing up. “You of all people should know how much I lack the ability to harbor ill feelings towards you.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow at his surprisingly favorable response. For holding the most coveted position of justice available for students in this academy, Seungmin was surely pressing less strongly on your faults. Perhaps it was a good thing that you still made sure to cool the tea before you dumped it on that Marquis’ pompous daughter.

“Playing favorites, are we now, Mr. President?”

Seungmin laughed openly this time. Talk about a change of mood. “I see that you have now chosen to switch to a different formality, yet again,” he mused on his way towards your figure on the couch. “See, you wouldn’t have this much trouble with other noble ladies if you just joined the student council.”

“Here you go again with your offer,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You of all people should know exactly why I cannot take a position in the council, Seungmin.”

“In my opinion, it would be seen as a reasonable training ground for the future Duchess.”

“You just like the way I do paperwork!” You expressed disbelief at his plan’s implication. “And high society might as well burn me into ashes, thinking that I take advantage of my position as your betrothed.”

Seungmin sighed dreamily, completely disregarding your latter comment. “I do love the way you do your paperwork. Such a perfect pair to my work ethic,” he says, sitting comfortably beside you with a relaxed exhale. “Yes, I genuinely do not see what is so wrong about the offer.”

“Seungmin,” you scowled at him. “Do you wish to put a stain on your reputation?”

“Oh, look at you scolding me as if we had already stated our vows,” Seungmin pinched your cheek in a tease. You attempted to push his hand away, only for him to grab it and intertwine your fingers, leaving you breathless as he placed a feathery kiss on your knuckles. “My dearest fiancee, I do not care what others may think of me. If I am able to, I will give anything you ask for without a silver of hesitation.” He gazed directly at your eyes, pupils swimming with unknown desire.

“My Duchess only deserves the best, after all.”

You pursed your lip at his intimate actions, feeling your stomach do crazed flips at his undivided attention. “It is quite concerning how biased you seem to be when it comes to this matter, Mr. President,” you gave in, letting yourself fall on his broad shoulder. “What have I even done to warrant your unyielding obsession with me?”

Seungmin’s chest rumbled in delight, the lull comforting your mind glazed over with his presence.

“Exist. Now, what do you think of becoming Vice President next year?”

“Serve me tea first, and I'll think about it.”

mastertag 🔖— send in an ask if you want to be added ! 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @djeniryuu @lixxpix

[melodic-haze]

Hmm i just had a thought about the recent fic w Arlecchino

What if she had a muzzle on w bunny suit🧐

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Breeding, size kink, reader has a cock/strap referred to as such

☆ — NOTES: I'm ngl it's been several Arle fics now that idk which one you were on ab but it's okay gwenchana. Anyway you lot really want to breed her huh (same though)

Good luck convincing Arlecchino to wear a bunny suit actually HAHAHA

She'd do anything for you, really she will!!!! She's so dedicated to you—worshipping you in the same way a diety was meant to be worshipped—that it's actually scary for the both of you, how much of a hold you have on her. But she has some reservations about such a risqué bit of clothing 💀

Not like you blame her though, considering how it wasn't usually her style. Lucky for you, however, YOU get special treatment :3 all it takes is one look at the outfit, one look at her and some time and voila!!! She'll concede—hell, she might even surprise you :3

"You're.. you're sure, right? I know you were kinda against it at first—I feel bad if I ended up forcing you into something you-- mm."

A finger was on your lips, the gesture's message quite clear as your beloved spoke amidst your commanded silence, "I'm sure, yes. I admit I am.. apprehensive, but your longing gaze is more than enough to convince me to, ah.. experiment."

"Really..?"

"Yes. You do not take me for my word?"

"No, I do! It's just..." You huffed out a sigh as you gently took the hand on your lip and took it in your own, "I just don't want you to feel as if you were obligated to entertain my every whim."

You see her eyes soften at your concern and she squeezes your hand as a form of reassurance from your often-so-stoic lover, "You should know better than to believe I would ever compromise my own comfort for something like this."

"And besides," she continues, "surprisingly, I've come to enjoy being.. well, your prey of sorts. Perhaps the outfit may elevate the interest to another level, hm?"

You couldn't help but stare at her, boldness practically radiating off of your lover despite the position you both know she truly holds within the privacy of your bedroom walls. Such boldness prompted an imagined flash of images in your mind—blackened hands all tied up, drool escaping her lips within confining barriers, tears escaping as sinful noises of wet skin-to-skin impact echo along with her moans—and you feel something akin to a hot flash within your core.

Ever so observant, her eyes go half-lidded as she looks up at you, her grin a touch sharper than before, "I see that I have awakened your imagination."

"Maybe."

"You need not imagine it, my beloved." Her voice reduces itself to something of a low purr, "All you need to do is command me, and I will do whatever you wish."

"That's a dangerous promise to make."

"Coming from a dangerous woman such as I, I dare say it balances the scales."

I love dialogue lol anyway tell her to do so and she will do it ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️ and next thing you know you're facing a woman much shorter than you've always known her to be, clad in such a revealing outfit and a muzzle to prevent her from biting so much. She had 'protested' against the latter at first, but you both know from the way that she so very easily accepted such a thing that she was all for the extra torture, not being able to make a mark on you (she forgets that her nails'll probably do the job for her anyway LMAO)

When she's laid out 'helplessly' on the bed as you tower over her, when you put your hand on the flat of her stomach and the both of you see the clear size difference, when you look at her and see so much anticipation and carnal lust practically glazing her eyes? Oh god the both of you KNOW you're not going out this room for a WHILE

She is COMPLETELY at your mercy—you can toy with her all you want, alternating between overstimulation and edging her with whatever is at your disposal until she can't take it anymore so she has to actually beg you to fuck her dumb and reduce all trains of thought into mush. She considers begging as below her, and yet she can't help but let out these reluctant pleas that only seem to gain a more.......willing quality with them in due time. Just make sure to torture her until her composure snaps, giving her her own sort of medicine and having her experience her very own mindbreak through overwhelming pleasure

To see this woman, who is so utterly feared to the point where crowds would part for her in fear that she would plunge her blackened hands into their chest and staining them red, cling to you and hump your cock like a bitch in heat is such a harrowing contrast.......but there is certainly that feeling of something more

Perhaps it's the fact that there was the urge to pin her down into a mating press and stuff her silly until she gets kids on her own ☺️ seeing her take all these children in at the Hearth and not having any herself.....why, for some reason you found yourself feeling like you just had to give her some children of her own. She seems to adore them, so whyever not ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

Even as dazed-out as she is, she can see something change inside you as your objective goes from fucking her silly to something a lot more feral. Doesn't necessarily help that, yk, you have her in a bunny suit. And yk how bunnies just love to breed

As much as Arlecchino had tried to tell you to slow down for a brief moment, it's as if all noise has been blocked out from your senses, save for the sounds your lover makes and the sinfully wet noises that are produced as you piston into her again and again and again and again.

You roughly pushed her down into the matress, now damp and messy from a mixture of your bodily fluids, as you made sure to bottom out inside her as quickly as you drew back—the harsh assault on her hole had hit spots within her she didn't even realise you could hit, not to mention the force of your movements being more than enough to easily stretch her out and mold her insides to fit you and only you.

It was obvious that there was no way any mercy was going to be given to her. The Harbinger could only lay there and take everything you give her like some kind of fleshlight, the 'fight' within her long gone (if she even had some left in her to begin with).

God I need to separate these bc I can't just choose one thank yew bc both are very very very VERY good

If you had a dick:

You were so utterly determined to fill her and making sure your seed takes by the end of your session. If it meant basting her insides with white-hot cum and having it all stuffed inside her to the point where it has no where to go but out by force, then you'll cum inside her over and over again until you can't anymore.

And when your hand goes to press down on her abdomen, you can see the mixture of cum inside her practically spray out at the edges. She can't take it anymore, even she says so, and yet you can't help but wonder just why is her pussy still milking you as if her life depended on it?

Because she's greedy.

Because right now, no longer was she Arlecchino—she was your very own rabbit, hungry for your potent seed.

If you're using a strap:

You know of your limitations—without anything extra such as magical means, you cannot actually have her bare your children. But whyever would you let that stop you, especially when you had benefits that more than makes up for your lack of organic appendages?

If you had the real thing then you could stuff her silly until it takes (and even beyond that), but one can easily make up for it in other qualities such as size and shape.

And really, whatever's stopping you from filling her to the brim with artificial cum instead?

The world is your oyster, and Peruere was nothing but your very own porcelain fuckdoll at this point.

I need to breed her every which way idc if I don't have a dick, if there's a will there's a way

When she realises what you're trying to do, she can't help that sudden jolt that completely overtakes her—her hips practically shoot from the bed, pushing your cock in even deeper, before you push her back down while she lets out a silent scream. By GOD the fact you want to breed her, fill her, make sure a child of YOURS growing inside her, making a mark beyond just her skin.........oh it gets her going in ways she never would've fathomed before

By the end of your VERY long and productive session, it's VERY clear you've both fucked like rabbits from the mess all over the place and the liquid practically gushing from her abused hole. After everything, you finally take off her muzzle, only for you to lead her drool-coated mouth all the way down to the base of your cock to clean it up. She doesn't even protest either, easily taking it like a good girl and making sure that she does a good job in cleaning you up and finishing you off. All you need to do is plug her up properly, feeling all the cum stuffed inside her through the small pauch of her abdomen, where her womb is 🫶

"..I had known this was a possible outcome, and yet I cannot help but be surprised by your control, or lack thereof."

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as you rolled on your side, "I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me! You just looked so irresistible and before I knew it I just--"

"Don't take my words as a form of reprimand, darling." You feel her hands take your own from your face, her lips finally kissing them—you—after a long time of having it muzzled, "I enjoyed it. You are already aware of my.. likes and dislikes, especially when it comes to the rougher parts of the activity. I gave you control, and you willingly seized it."

"I guess..."

"And besides," she muses with a small smile on her face, "I am.. not necessarily opposed to the thought of it."

"Of what?"

"Getting bred."

A warm flush spreads through your cheeks as you gave her a light swat, "You! You are so shameless! What happened to being polite and cryptic?!"

"Do we really need such pleasantries by this point? Seeing that you were rather determined to take me all for yourself, after all..."

"Oh my god."

A deep laugh rumbles within her, the sound so rare and precious that you'd want to keep it all to yourself, and you can't help but laugh along with her as you bask in the afterglow. When your laughter settles down, the two of you end up with your legs tangled up together as you lay there in companionable silence.

Though eventually she decides to break it, "Shall I go and run us a bath?"

"You can stand after all that? Geez, seems like I did a bad job," you joked.

Arlecchino huffed out lightly with a smile, "No, you've rendered me utterly near-useless—a feeling that I don't usually enjoy. Yet the fact that I don't seem to mind it all that much should show that you are special to me."

You feel that heat in your cheeks again at the proclamation, "Archons, and when I aim to have you all sappy like that in public you don't even dare move a muscle."

"Time and place, dear. Time and place. Now," she questions again, "shall I run us a bath? We can take care of the mess later."

You nodded, "Mm, if you don't mind then. But can we take it together?"

You see her eyes crinkle, the glow that the red crosses within them softening like a tender flame, "Of course. I shall be back in a few moments, then."

She gets up, and you pride yourself for being the reason why your lover temporarily goes off balance from a sudden tremor in her legs before collecting yourself.. and you can't help but stare at the remaining cum staining the sides of the plug and the apex of her thighs as she walks off.

She doesn't take the plug off when you go and take the bath together. Wonder why 😋