#and i know i would get those stares if i dressed up nice here too

[kerosene-saint]

it's weird to me that the first pride event I ever attended that had protesters out front was in Tennessee and not here in Oklahoma

[satorusugurugurl]

JJK Men: Seeing You Without Makeup For the First Time

Warning: Fluffy sweetness, insecurities, suggestiveness, language

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Choso Kamo, Modern!Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento

Word Count: 2,993

A/N: Ah yes, I love this trope. It was fun to write!! Please Enjoy, don't blame me from any cavities from this sweet fluff. Request Open.

Gojo Satoru:

The smell of freshly brewed coffee was the only thing keeping your eyes open. You grumbled and cursed the sun for rising another day as you leaned over the kitchen counter, watching the magic bean juice filling your cup. The higher-ups must not like you because the mission they just sent you on was hell.

A week, a damn week, you were gone. A week from your bed, students, and your boyfriend. Stupid old men and their dumb missions. But who were you to complain if you paid your bills and you were able to teach the next generation of sorcerers? So life wasn't that bad.

Then again, your somewhat happy outlook on life might be the sleep deprivation talking.

The bastards were sweet enough to give you one day to recuperate. There was no time to relax, though. You had laundry to sort through, groceries to pick up, and the normal mundane things you'd missed out on during the WEEK you were gone!

A day off was a day off despite it being a busy one. You would get it all done after you drank this coffee Satoru got you from Mexico on his last mission. As soon as you downed it, you would off. You were already dressed to go. You had on sweats and a t-shirt, and you opted out of putting on any makeup, seeing that you would just be running around.

Your phone chimed as Satoru’s name popped up on your screen. You smiled as you opened the chat.

Satoru: Good morning, beautiful! 😙 Welcome back! I had breakfast delivered to you; enjoy! 🍳🥓🧇

“Oh, he's getting laid later.” You squealed, running for the door to your apartment.

You flung it open, staring at the ground, expecting a bag, but instead, you were greeted by shoes. Designer shoes that you knew all too well. Slowly trailing up dark uniform pants and jacket that was from the same school you worked at. Further up, you caught sight of a wide grin, a blindfold, and fluffy white hair. All of which belongs to your boyfriend, who was holding a takeout bag.

“Special delivery for Y/L/N Y/N!”

Your boyfriend was here. The same boyfriend who was utterly gorgeous no matter what condition he was in. The man could be caked in blood, and you still wanted to kiss him. Then there was you; you always put in the effort to look nice around him, hair styled, cute outfit, some form of makeup always on.

Today was not one of those days.

In a panic, you squeaked, slamming the door in his face. “What the fuck?! What the actual fuck!?” You glanced around for anything you could use to hide your appearance. You panicked and grabbed the first thing off the couch.

“Uhm, babe?” Satoru questioned, opening the door. “I know you were gone for a week. But I'm Gojo Satoru, your boyfriend.”

“I know!! Sorry, I wasn't expecting to see you!” you had your back turned to him, covering your face with your hands. “T-Thanks for the food! But I have so much to do!”

“Really?”

“Yep! Laundry!”

“I had Ijichi pick it up this morning.”

Fuuuuck.

“O-Okay! I have to get groceries!”

“Your fridge is fully stocked, courtesy of yours truly.”

The room felt like it was shrinking in on you as you listened to him come up behind you. The bag was discarded as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You weren't sure how he would react, seeing your bare face, and that was terrifying.

So many men thought women wearing makeup was like lying. You had always done very light and minimal makeup, but it didn't make it less scary. Sensing the tension, Satoru gently turned you around so you were facing him. He stiffened, his mouth turning from a grin to a shocked expression.

“Y/N?” His voice was so quiet.

“Y-Yeah?”

A choked laugh erupted from his throat. “I-Is that one of my blindfolded?!” He called as you stated at the darkness his blindfold provided. “Oh my god, hold on! Hold on!” You could feel him near you with the camera on his phone clicking. “Oh my god, wait until the second years see this!” Fingers hooked under the blindfold, yanking it up and off your head.

Your hands flew up, hiding your face. Your attempt was foiled as Satoru's gentle hands pulled them away. With a shuddering sigh, you looked up at him, biting your cheek as he fully saw you. For you, no makeup, fancy clothes, or styled hair.

Satoru just smiled, leaning down before he kissed your lips gently. “Welcome home.” He pulled back, tilting his head to the side. “What was with the off-brand cosplay?” Your cheeks are flushed, the darker pigment visible without any trace of makeup.

“I-I don't have any makeup on.”

“Oh!” He straightened, his large hand patting your head. “You're so cute.”

His grin grew wider at the confused expression inching its way over your face. “Seriously? Do you think that? Even without the makeup and the baggy clothes? You still think I'm cute?” Satoru’s head bobbed up and down so fast you thought his head would fall out. His sincere reaction made you giggle, shaking your head. “Satoru, you are so strange. But also extremely sweet.” When you looked up, you blinked, seeing Gojo holding up one side of his blindfold. His bright blue eye looked you over, inching over every curve and surface of you. “Satoru, stop staring.”

“I just was confirming something.” he snapped his blindfold back into place before draping an arm over you.

You poured yourself a cup of coffee while Satoru pulled your breakfast out of the bag. “Confirming what?”

“Just confirming with Six-Eyes that I have the prettiest girlfriend in the entire world.”

Gojo’s smile slowly faded as you slammed the coffee pot down. Oh fuck, what did he say?! You led around; fire swarmed in Y/E/C eyes as you stormed over to him, grabbing his wrist.

“W-What?! What did I say?” He huffed out a gasp as you shoved him onto the couch.

“Everything.”

You unzipped his pants, and Gojo’s eyes were wide behind his blindfold. Even with Six-Eyes, Gojo did not see this coming. Spoiler alert: It was him, he was going to cum.

Choso Kamo:

A knock at your door had you straightening from your spot on the couch. Looking at your phone, you quickly got up. It was well past midnight, and it was never a good sign when someone knocked that late at night on the door.

Much to your relief, when you opened the door to your apartment, your boyfriend looked down at you. “Choso?” a sigh of relief escaped your lips.

“I'm sorry. Did I wake you?” he asked before entering your apartment.

“No, I think you just saved me a stiff neck.” You yawned out before locking the door. “Did you and Yuuji finish up with that mission?”

“Yes, he went back home; I wanted to see you.”

Choso watched as you moved around the apartment. You straightened up the pillows on the couch and wiped down your kitchen before grabbing his hand and leading him to the bedroom. The entire time you went about your mundane tasks, Choso just stared. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was different about you.

Choso’s eyes moved over you. Trying to depict what was different tonight. Haircut? No. New pajamas? No, that wasn't it, either. Everything Choso tried to think of wasn't the right answer. Not knowing what it was frustrated him to the point that Choso’s eyebrow twitched.

What had you glowing in the lowlights of your bedroom as you pulled the sheets back? “Cho?” You finally asked with a nervous chuckle. “Are you okay? You're staring holes through me.” Realizing that he had been caught, Choso flinched.

“I'm sorry, sorry I just—” Words trailed off as his cheeks flushed.

You had noticed Choso staring at you since he came inside. The poor guy never saw you without makeup, which was probably strange. He seemed to be struggling, trying to find the words to the mountain of questions he might have.

“It's okay. I think I know what you're going to ask.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you’re going to ask what’s different.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I look different because I’m not wearing makeup.”

Choso tilted his head to the side.”Oh, no, I was going to say you look radiant tonight.” The words that left his mouth had both of you standing in silence.

You just eyed Choso as he smiled, nodding his head like he'd figured out the mystery of what was different. Pleased with his conclusion, he helped you pull the sheets back. His hands smoothed out the covers before he peered up at you. You were blushing, smiling ear to ear as you finished pulling the bed back.

“I just finished doing my skincare routine,” you announced as you crawled into bed after Choso showered. “I have a new serum that is supposed to make you look luminescent.”

Choso studied you carefully as he crawled into bed with you. “Mmm, maybe that’s it.” He pulled you into his arms. “Or maybe it’s just me.” Choso hummed, staring into the face that he loved so much. “Falling in love.” Love?! “Yeah, I think that’s exactly what this is.”

That was the reasoning behind your radiant glow. A glow that always surrounded you no matter what you wore or looked like. Choso saw utter perfection in you. So it only made sense that the reason you looked extra stunning was that he had fallen in love with you even more.

You just snuggled closer into his chest, grinning wide as he yawned. “I love you too, Cho.”

Ryomen Sukuna:

Ten minutes. All it took was ten minutes before chaos erupted in Sukuna’s apartment. He had just finished changing when he heard the commotion. Yuuji and Choso were bickering before you gently tried to break up the argument. The next thing he heard was a scream, your scream, to be exact.

He bolted, running into the kitchen, where he found you wiping at your face. “What the fuck?!” His younger brothers both stood in shock, watching you in fear. Yuuji was holding a box of baking soda, and Choso held a bottle of vinegar.

In the center of the kitchen was the volcano experiment you had been helping Yuuji make. Sukuna was able to put it all together in an instant. He didn't bother yelling. He instead lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.

“What the hell happened?” You flinched when you felt a warm, wet rag gently cleaning your face off.

“The boys wanted to see how big of an explosion they could make. But you know the boys, they both were arguing about who should do what. Words were said, contents were thrown into a beaker, and I didn't have my safety goggles on.”

Sukuna sighed, continuing to rub off the mess on your face. “You're not hurt, are you?”

“Nope!” Your confident response had your boyfriend chuckling as he wiped more of the foamy goop off your face.

After about five minutes of wiping and rinsing the rag, Sukuna sat on the tub's edge, examining your face. It was without the small amount of makeup you had on and the lighting of the bathroom that he stared at you. You were stunning, gorgeous in everything. But here in the bathroom, his eyes mapped out your face.

“What happened here?” he asked, fingertips pressing against a small scar under your eye.

Thinking it was food coloring, you turned to the mirror, seeing your bare face. “EH?!” You touched it, groaning as you looked back at your boyfriend, who was smirking. “You wiped off all my makeup!” For a second, Sukuna thought he was dealing with a third child in his apartment.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want to have vinegar on your face?” You shook your head. “That's what I thought. So confess what happened there?”

“Acne scar.”

A soft him rumbled in his chest before he learned over, thumb grazing over a tiny scar at the bottom of your lip. “This?” gentle fingers moved up, brushing over your bottom lip as he stepped closer towards you.

“I-I fell off my bike.”

You swallowed hard, whimpering as Sukuna’s fingers grazed over your face. You were feeling how soft your delicate skin was. All of you mesmerized him. Every time you came over, he learned a little more about you. And god, he fuckin’ loved that.

His hands gently mapped your face out. The softness had you breathing heavily, his eyes glued to your lips. Having your boyfriend gaze over you with such a soft yet burning gaze had you shifting. The air in the bathroom became thick with need as he slowly slipped your tank top sleeve down.

“Y/N, let me see all of you. I want to map out your body and learn everything it has to say.”

“W-What’s gotten into you?”

The whisper tone of your voice had Sukuna sliding the other sleeve of your tank top down. “You. You’ve crept your way into my heart.” The confession that spilled from his lips has you leaning in, wanting him to touch you everywhere. The same way he had touched your face.

“Hey, is she okay?” Choso’s timid voice whispered through the door. “Yuuji’s worried.”

“Take Yuuji out for ice cream.” Your tank top is slowly pulled over your head. “My card is on my dresser.”

Silence spreads out as you tug Sukuna’s shirt up and off. “R-Really?” hands began working on jeans.

“Yes, I have my own project to work on.” Sukuna turned the shower on, and he never heard Choso collecting Yuuji so fast. Refusing to answer any questions as the door to the apartment slammed shut.

Sukuna’s antics had you giggling, licking your lip, and he stripped you completely. “A project, huh?” he nodded, following you into the shower.

“Yeah, but it won't be vinegar foam that covers that pretty face this time.”

Nanami Kento:

The hotel sheets were cold and crisp over your and your boyfriend's bodies. Between the chill and the heat Nanami was putting out, you felt so comfortable. It was the perfect combination that made you want to relish the feeling forever.

The sun was up, which meant you both would be going home soon. You both had been called out on a mission, one that took a bit longer to handle than you both were anticipating. You missed the last train back to Tokyo. Leaving you both stranded in Kawasaki for the night.

Instead of having one of the assistant supervisors drive all the way out to get you, you and Nanami decided to stay at a hotel. God, it was nice: room service, wine, a hot shower. Missing that last train was a reward for the two of you. Nothing more than relaxation and joy. But the moment Nanami pulled you tighter against him, you realized you didn't have your overnight bag.

Meaning you didn't have your makeup.

“Oh no, oh god no.” You whined as Nanami lifted his head.

“What’s wrong?” His groggy voice asked, trying to assess what was going on.

Burying your face in your pillow, you grumbled, cringing as you felt Nanami shift beside you. “I don't have my bag.” The covers move as Nanami props himself up.

“Your overnight bag?”

“Mhmm.”

Silence stretched out. “Did you need something out of it? Aspirin or tampons? I'll go grab you some.” The sincerity of his words made your heart soar. God, Nanami was the best boyfriend.

“No, no, I'm okay.” You shyly turned, swallowing hard. “I just realized you've never seen me without makeup.”

Nanami’s gaze was soft; honey-brown eyes slowly roamed over your face. He took his time, his hand reaching out, knuckles grazing your cheek. It was so gentle and sweet that you pressed yourself against his hand. The warmth spreads to every part of your body.

The bed shifts as Nanami’s hand cups your cheek, pulling you closer. “You are still as stunning in the morning bare-faced as you are all dolled up.” Before you could even think of what to say in response, his lips were on yours.

His lips were warm, like a spring day. You moaned happily, kissing him back as his hands slowly ran down your arms. Breaking the kiss, had you pouting with a displeased groan that shifted into a moan. Those warm lips slowly moved down your face. Nanami was trailing the softest, warmest kisses down your body, over your shoulders and upper arm.

“I want to see all of you.” Hot breath whispered over your skin. “See every part of you, body, mind, and soul in the raw.”

Soft kisses were replaced with gentle nips. The sensation had you arching your back as Nana crawled on top of you. His morning wood was pressing against your hip. It felt like you were melting into the mattress as the once-comfortable room suddenly became too warm. The need to get naked grew stronger and stronger.

“Kento~”

He didn't respond. He was too busy being love-drunk off of you. His fingers, lips, and teeth slowly mapped out every part of your body. Nanami’s actions left you a squirming mess underneath him. One that he was so pleased to see and feel.

Only once you were gasping for air, gripping his shirt, begging him for more, did Nanami finally pull back, taking his shirt off. “Every inch of you is the most beautiful thing that's graced this world, Y/N.” You sat up, pulling him into a starved kiss as he took your shorts off. Limbs entangling as he gently laid you down.

And yes, you missed the morning train. . .and the afternoon train. . .poor Ijichi had to pick you up.

[barnacles34]

Momentous Entropy (Yujin x Male Reader)

Yujin x Male Reader

Warning: Smut, 7k+ words

The door accelerated open, showing a peek of a small dorm. Yujin’s head popped out from the door’s side, her face entirely shaped by a beautiful smile— eyes morphed into two crescent moons facing downwards. 

Despite her giggling shyness, she stopped hiding behind the door. She welcomed me in, still with a brilliant smile, “Welcome Professor Eunwoo! Welcome to my dorm.” 

“I know it’s small compared to your penthouse or whatever you were talking about with your coworkers, but it’s great for deep, focused work.” She snuck in the stalker-level information in between two welcoming remarks.

“Thanks for welcoming me here.. Wait.. What?” I only caught the intrusion mid-sentence.

She knew I heard her—word for word. It was mutualistic to not ruin the moment with heedless questions in the specifics, we’d forgotten whatever we talked about a moment ago; rather, focusing on each other's faces.

Of course, I would never let her know. It’s an apprenticeship after all, I’d be brought down with all the academic reputation I have if I even considered anything remotely intimate.

As I entered her dorm, I noticed something unusual. She wore a formal skirt with a white shirt and even her hair seemed to have been carefully molded for a grueling amount of time. Why did she dress up so vibrantly even though all she wore outside were casual clothes? Of course, I would never look her up and down, that would be a grave mistake, my peripheral vision was enough, my imagination did the rest.

I looked away immediately when my imagination went onto a wholly inappropriate tangent, instead I appreciated the clean place, clean of a single speck, the wallpaper matted with a freshness that couldn’t be faked with a single day of cleaning; the nice smell loomed over the place, something flowery, something inherently feminine, I was beginning to feel out of place. 

There’s something poetic about a beautiful person being a beautiful human being as well, though I used two synonyms to describe something inherently different, I’m sure you get what I’m saying. She was good-looking, diligent, smart, clean, the list goes on and on. Sometimes attractive people have some of the most vapid, vanitous, vain lives; sometimes, it’s refreshing to see someone just so contrary to that common belief.

I was walking slowly while she went to her room to set up, I paced my steps to not seem awkward by standing too still or pacing around her entire dorm. 

She came out of the door, her eyes were not morphed by a smile, rather two large pupils akin to a labrador stared straight at me.

Some people’s stares immediately make you uncomfortable, angry even, their voided personality that can only be filled with continued staring. Yujin was rather supplemented by the stare, her intense rich inner-life always apparent, her natural charisma exuding throughout.

The thought was broken when Yujin said, “Mr. Eunwoo, before we get started, I know you forget some of the essential parts of life, like breakfast.” She swiftly went to the countertop, opening some cupboard and pulling out an already-prepared breakfast.

“Why do you have a full meal in the cupboard?” I was completely stumped, there is never anything consistent with Yujin.

“I don’t know, just in case, you know, if you tried to stop me from serving you breakfast.”

“Why do you want to serve me breakfast in the first place? This is inappropriate. Wholly.”

“Please!~ Just try it!” Her eyes glistened, displaying how determined she was to get me to taste it.”

I obliged her for once. The breakfast was great, it was just too foreign, everything was opposite of what I’ve lived on; familiarity lied in the dusty libraries, the cramped, yet cozy study rooms, the decrepit dorms. Yet, I’ve gotten too successful, my quality as an academic has deteriorated too quickly, the distracting throes of fame, money, power however unattractive were always pushed onto me by those I used to hold close. I’ve resented success for however long I’ve held it, never has it ever contributed to my learning.

Yet, could this be an aspect of success? An attractive young lady, serving breakfast, serving a jet black coffee with enough caffeine to sedate rather than stimulate. Hold on, how does she-

“How do you know my coffee preference?” I asked, again, alarmed.

“That’s–um, I don’t know, based on my deduction, you know, like your disheveled appearance, I just assumed you lived off of caffeine.” A smile formed again, this time, a smile of victory over me, a rare enough event for a celebration.

“You’d be right.” Slightly, I scoffed at her remark, gladly sipping the bitter coffee.

Just like that, she already made me feel welcome, warmed up to the most foreign of places.

How could she do that? Is it on purpose? I can’t just ignore the influence she has over me, even if she is a student and I, a professor. I’ve always fought, fought and fought for everything, everything; the simplest of things failed at least a dozen times. Do you understand the disparity of it all? From failing at least a hundred times to now, an empathetic kindness, a warm smile greeting me regularly. I’m aware the description is akin to describing a drug, an addiction, I’m completely aware of it, and I’m desperate. Desperate for this continued exchange, and that’s why I willingly, so perpendicularly of my nature, succumb.

When I snap back to reality, the calm environment filled my sensory world. The white walls are furnished with small plants attached to the wall. I looked back at the kitchen, to check if Yujin was still there—she had planted her elbows on the countertop that I was sitting at, on the other side, her chin held up by her two fists, her cheeks were slightly squished and she was staring directly into my eyes.

“What’re you doing?” I ask.

“Nothing. You were so focused on that wall, I just thought it’d be interesting to stare at you.” That’s right, she’s also adept at mocking.

“Alright. Alright you brat, let’s get on with it. Where did we leave off last time?”

“Something about an assessment for me to continue being your apprentice.”

“Right. Right, I remember.”

“You don’t even carry around notes? For your ‘apprentice’?”

“Don’t need to”

“Ok, well, follow me, you’re gonna have to sit cross-legged on the floor.”

“Fine by me, lead the way.”

“Tired or sitting on gold-plated chairs, Mr. Eunwoooo?” Though her teasing was getting a little obnoxious, maybe the first-time visit to her dorm has her more anxious.

I scoffed at the reply, and followed to sit next to her on the coffee table, with enough distance as to make our apprenticeship obvious.

As do all our sessions, it starts cold, detached, at least compared to the end. Near the end, it becomes a warm haze, a studious discourse turns into something enjoyable, something that genuinely complements your life beneficially.

That’s also a reason why I continue to speak to Yujin. These unforeseen, unconsidered degrees of freedom had gone out of control, and inevitably, the attachment I had to being an academic was on its last string, its last stitch.

Only a fixation, a continued mutualistic companionship with Yujin has seemed to crutch my skill. And, I’m willing to go against all my morals to continue it.

It can be easily inferred that I’d let Yujin pass with flying colors to be my apprentice. Hiding it, though, is an entirely different story that I’d have to consider deeply through the assessment.

Of course, there’s always an optimism to expect in the radius of Yujin, the soft carpet, the flimsy coffee table. 

Despite this, the assessment was rough, she was missing questions on purpose, and I couldn’t call her out for it because I was purposely trying to modify it in a way that she was always somewhat correct; in academia, this was enough, more than enough, even ground-breaking. But, this wasn’t even close to enough for Yujin, she was already suspicious of my bullshittery and in the 5th question, a free-response that I’d modified. She frowned deeply, her eyes glistened in a sort of sadness.

She spoke with disappointment, mostly with herself, “Why are you trying to make me pass? It’s obvious that the answers that I have are completely wrong, I can tell in the glint of your eyes.”

In order to trick Yujin, I’d have to have a near perfect system—a small gear falling out was all it took for Yujin to catch it. 

“Before you freak out, these are questions for my PHD students, you’re a freshman, of course I’d have to modify it.”

“But why are you teaching me, an undergrad, instead of your usual PHD students?”

“Huh?” I was stumped, she was as intelligent as a fox.

Her eyes were melancholic, dark with a sort of sadness, disappointment.

“Why do you teach me?” She added on, then continued, “all your students did nearly the same thing as I did to gain some sort of favor, perhaps I tried slightly harder. I guess I argued with you a little more, challenged your authority, but anyone that did that was swiftly punished by you. I guess I was more insistent to be taught but you shoved off anyone that did that, except me. Why me? You’re not doing it for the money, you have plenty of it and I don’t have any. This doesn’t progress your career as well, you’re teaching a freshman about something that’s so ingrained that you don’t need notes for it.” Slowly her deduction processed what she was saying, and she was getting dangerously close to the answer.

I’d have to go on a tangent to another reason.

“I don’t know, maybe that you’re particularly bright, and I mean it, I know you feel like an idiot sometimes; it’ll never be as bad as how I felt it, god, if I was half as smart as you are when I was a freshman, I might’ve found the philosopher’s stone by now.”

“You’re so bad at giving compliments.” She laughed into her forearms that went to wipe her not-yet flowing tears. 

“I mean it.” I replied quickly.

“No you don’t”

“If I tried to do an apprenticeship with my freshman self I’d be on death row the second day.”

It seemed to brighten the mood, she laughed harder, and.... and cried harder into her knees.

Confused by the contradiction of her actions, I just looked away, trying to offer some measure of comfort by just being present.

“I’m sorry, when I sta-start crying I just can’t stop.”

Even when she’s crying, a torrent of emotions pouring out, I don't feel uncomfortable.

“I’m here, Yujin, I’ll wait.”

“Thank you, Mr. Eunwoo-hick-it’s not your fault, I just feel extra emotional these days…”

Everytime she tried to continue with the assessment, her tears seemed to continue flowing, albeit a little slower.

“Hold my hand Mr. Eunwoo.”

“What?”

She sniffled, “Just hold it, it’ll help me stop crying.”

“Alright, alright.” I said as calmly as possible, not saying anymore, grasping her hand tightly.

She was sniffling—not crying—beside me, the distance that we had had closed a little. To say this was a foreign experience was an understatement, a relevant example would be to compare it to would be: a cat in zero gravity, I’d recommend watching some videos of it.

Yet I didn’t feel any reflexive reaction to this novel experience, I only held harder and felt ever-present in the experience

Suddenly, she whimpered, her hand reflexively moved.

“Ow, sorry, I’m not yet used to the tight grip.” She softly said.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, I like it, continue.” Her head finally seemed to release from her damp forearms, her eyes were slightly red. 

As I grasped her hand to a firm level, she put her head on the couch seat, her hair slightly splaying out, her eyes looking at the ceiling.

She whispered, “I know you like me.”

“I-” A flourish of heat went straight to my face, everything seemed to be burning down today.

“I like you too.” She continued.

“Please, think about what you’re saying.” I sputtered out, trying to adjust her projected advance.

“I can’t hide it anymore, I just can’t. I’m delicate, I have my heart on my sleeve… but I’ve never been so sure of it—nothing else has ever made me feel this way: no friend, no family member, no passion. You can continue saying that I’m naive, that it’s my first time, that it’ll pass…” Her words start becoming a jumble, as if all that she wanted to get out in a short manner wasn’t enough, as if all that crying was because of what she had to say.

She continued, “I know you’re a professional, that no matter what I say, you’ll decline, even if you liked me. I had to cry because of it, not because I was getting things wrong, I could care less about that… It was the fact that I can no longer handle admiring you from afar, I had to vocalize my appreciation, even if it was all for naught.”

After a brief silence, she continued, “I just had to get this off my chest, even if you despise me now, even if you run away now.” 

She looked away, expecting me to walk away while giving her a stare of pure hatred.

She was still looking at the ceiling, trying to prevent more tears from flowing down. I leaned my head back on the couch seat and looked at the ceiling.

“I love you.” I finally said, shaky with a risky determination.

“What?” 

“I love you.”

Her hand gripped tightly, her hands were noticeably shaking.

“What now?” She stuttered out.

“I don’t fucking know.” I sighed—sighing deeper than I’ve ever sighed—I also felt an immense pressure release from something grabbing me from within.

“Why don’t we go ahead with the assessment?” 

“After all that?”

“Yeah, I mean I feel like a huge burden has been lifted, I just wanna see if I perform better.”

“Alright, if that’s what you want.” I pulled my head from the couch seat, and sat—facing her. 

After a lengthy discourse, one that stretched for more than an hour judging by how we both had to correct our posture at least a dozen times. And, within that discourse, Yujin was infallible, every question was answered with lengthy consideration with the nuance, the specificity, the word choice. 

Near the end, it went something like this: “Foucault’s theory states that the evolving system of penal systems aligns, or in parallel, with everything around us. Before, in medieval ages, violent spectacles of blood and gore were prioritized as punishment, no additional consideration for the esotericism within. Whereas, now, the spectacle of violence is wholly shunned and penal systems focus on shaping the soul, rehabilitating the mind. However, the application of this idea has been rather controversial, and it could be explained with the idea of the panopticon: with the growing concern of shaping the mind, which is almost like a black box, penal systems have a growing habit of surveilling more and more.”

Yujin stared at me for some sort of confirmation.

“And?” I waited expectantly.

“And, this panopticon can be applied to anything, schools, hospitals, even changing cultural norms.”

“Wow, I have to say, how much did you prepare prior to this?”

“Prior to this? A lot, a lot of work.” Her voice was confident, a far cry from her whimpering only a moment ago.

“How do you not sleep in my lectures considering the fact that this material is so much more advanced than the class you take?”

“I can just stare at you.” Her head was getting closer—I didn’t care. In the beginning of the assessment, we were separated by plenty of space—enough to clearly show it was a professional exchange. By the end, we were shoulder-to-shoulder, side-by-side, speaking cordially, even despite our physical contact.

“Awfully bold for someone who cried in front of her professor for like half an hour straight.”

“Ugh! Don’t remind me.” Her face cringed.

I bit my lip, looking down—the mood was serene, it’s just that I keep getting reminded that I’m willingly participating in a mutual seduction between professor and student.

Fuck all of it.

I pulled my hand out of her hand—before she could demand that I return my hand—I wrapped my arm around her upper back, with my hand wrapping at the end of her shoulder.

Her posture straightened during the process, of course the forbidden path was still on her mind, still latent and not yet brought to fruition. But she quickly adapted, she looked to her side, at me, smiling warmly.

“It’s so amazing. How many hints have I had to give out?”

“Don’t act like you manipulated me to do this.”

“How else would the great Eunwoo betray his values? Just a wisp in the wind?”

“You brat, don’t forget my honorifics.”

“What? I couldn’t hear you… Eunwoo.”

I quickly pull her in, with my hand shielding the back of her head before I pushed her onto the floor, a soft tuft sound. I was on top of her, between the couch and coffee table, with her legs locked between mine.

Her doe eyes were on full display, her large pupils were somehow dwarfed by her eyelids which opened wider, the whites of her eyes under and above the pupil visible. She was shocked, taboo aside, it’s likely she’s never even experienced something like this.

“Can I kiss you?” Four words. These four words were all that I could think of, fantasize about for these past months. She’d accept of course, they all did—in the past. Still, there’s an immeasurable tension, an uncertainty without even weighing in the consensual agreement. 

Perhaps some part of the tension was the taboo, that a professor was about to ruin the makeup of a freshman; smudge her lipstick, suck her lips until they were swollen; the condensation of love-making staining, blending in the carefully sculpted makeup with her natural beauty.

I didn’t hear the agreement, in part due to the fact that Yujin herself brought her head up to kiss me. Unfortunately, some care was forgotten, the way I had to grab Yujin's head led to a soft collapse onto the carpet, her head making a soft thump, our teeth clicking from the force. A collaborative soft chuckle escaped through the smallest of air leaks between our lips—a testament to our dedication to continue kissing, then it was airtight again, her soft lips glided over mine, her taste so feminine, so ephemeral.

It was obvious she was chaste, perhaps even ‘unclaimed’, her virginal lips were erratic, confused, yet so fucking shamelessly hot. Her low moans vibrated more in my mouth, goading me further, to enter deeper into her soft, welcoming mouth.

Slowly, steadily, our tongues entwined, the kiss was less air tight to allow for a more dynamic, sensual french kiss. Her mouth was begging, I was obliging, there was never a fairer exchange, as if her mouth was made for mine, and hers for mine. 

Suddenly, she managed to push me over, until I was face-up, staring into Yujin’s eyes. This was the first time our eyes met during the makeout session, there wasn’t a single word that could explain what we needed to do; besides, our glazed eyes, slick with lust, spoke more than a one-dimensional tool like language. A small chuckle escaped our lips when our lips met in the middle, her head positioning lower, my head higher in the air, until my goading hands, entwined in her angelic soft hair pulled her head down. Our lips slotted in like perpendicular lines, no matter how awkward it felt, it just felt right, as if it were the most lustful way of expressing our unbridled affectations.

My hands explored her clothed body, exploring the beauty on me—who is restlessly, yet in a fierce, virginal way exploring every inch of my mouth—her beautiful curves were soft, pliant, firm, any press had an opposing force—an illegally soft opposing force. She was an angel—an angel on top of me, unaware of how much I wanted to ruin her.

“You’re going to regret it.” I say, in between wet kisses on Yujin’s lips. “This is the only thing I’ve been sure of.” Yujin replied, her voice husky with a sort of mindlessness that only the kiss could’ve caused. I reply, scaldingly, “I’m going to fucking ruin you.” Still trying to warn her, of course, there was a mind and body separation. I was completely, utterly, under the seduction of Yujin, no matter how much I warned her. We both knew, that I wouldn’t hesitate to fuck her all over the dorm—not even for a millisecond. “Please, huff, that's all I’ve ever wanted, all I could think ever about… to be by your side through it all.” She pressed another kiss, a brief one, “The messy way you keep your desk, and how happy I am to organize it, how obliging I am. You’ve seduced me without knowing, before you ever even thought about me I’ve imagined millions of scenarios with you by my side.” Another kiss, a light peck, “Imagine the pride I felt when I found you left your suitcase by the chair in the library, to serve you measurably. It was just ordinary for you, but, but… it was the seventh heaven for me…”

Yujin was systematically removing every screw, with a perfectly fit screwdriver. Whether Yujin was conscious of it or not; she was kryptonite, the way her soft thighs brush against the sides of your abdomen, the soft feeling of her breasts, dipping onto my chest.

I needed to do more, with our mouths still connected, I sat up. Her ass was on my lap, the changing sensory world didn’t matter to her, all she wanted to do was oblige in the kisses. It didn’t even phase her once when I picked her up, standing, only, her legs locked herself in place to continue our mouth-to-mouth connection. I began my march to her bedroom, optimized to the utmost degree, every small peek I had of her bedroom perfectly aiding in this desperate situation—where I have to fuck Yujin for the remaining day, then the next, perhaps even forever; if only time would allow it so.

Her body clung to mine as I pressed her against the bed. This time, I had to pull off the heat of my loins unbearably tight, wanting—of new sensations. I could only imagine how ridiculous I looked, given how swollen Yujin’s lips were, I could only imagine how bad it must be—of course, the imagery was supplemented with Yujin's soft giggle, her eyes staring at my mouth.

I finally got to rid Yujin of her treacherous t-shirt—one that blocked the view of her perfect breasts, her perfect abdomen. Her lithe, firm body was running every gear in my head, on how to perfectly ravish—to perfectly mark with my actions. Yujin could only stare, wide-eyed, she doesn’t know what happens after, a little virgin, there needn't be a single statement clarifying this—I’ve already explored her enough to conclude so. I press into her, my mouth near her ears, “Don’t worry Yujin, you’ll just be under the greatest pleasure of your life, helplessly moaning—squealing on your professor’s face.” All she could reply with was a deep, sensual moan that would seem like someone pressed into her lungs, that’s how deep it was. Slowly, but surely, I shift down, letting my fingers grip onto her godly skin, leaving vertical white trails on her skin until her pelvis; when I hook her skirt, off. 

I could immediately feel the goosebumps on her thighs, where the warmth, the security of the skirt—or the lack thereof—provided some protection of her core, her wet little core. I stare into her eyes again. My stature of a well-respected professional is gone—only an animalistic drive to nail the hottest woman in the world through the bed. The dynamic of professor and student, no matter how fucked up, no matter how morally corrupt—or nefarious; began to turn me on instead of inhibit, it seems so to for Yujin as well, the stain of her arousal clear. 

Her arms seemed to retract to her chest, her forearms squeezed her breasts together; though, I’m sure that wasn’t intended, rather, it was likely to protect her little throbbing heart from the sensations, that heart she had on her sleeve. Despite my raging erection, my raging lust, I was inclined to treat her like porcelain, at least that part of me wasn’t totally exhausted. Except when Yujin said, “I’m not so fragile, daddy, break me.” Uncontrollably, greedily I pressed my mouth against her wetness, kissing around the soft skin. The wetness radiated, even under a layer of cloth, albeit a very flimsy, sexy, cloth. 

Small whimpers rung out, vibrating the surface of her glossy skin around her heat after every small peck I placed on her inner thighs. Her legs were between my head, her thighs rested above my shoulder. As Yujin stared with a dogged innocence, a beautiful hesitance—-I hooked the side of her panty. I pulled—softly, making sure the wet cloth makes as much contact, frictional force with her pink core. The gift wrapping revealed something divine, the lightest pink you can imagine, glossy with something that only be arousal. Slowly, I dipped my tongue into her core—it was unimaginably comfortable, the way her pussy felt on my tongue, a sort of hot soft-serve that got molded by your tongue. But it didn’t taste like anything, that’s when a realization hit: she spent an inordinate amount of time preparing, making sure that every part of her was ripe for a nice fuck, and slowly guided me into her siren-like seduction. I patted the side of her ass, giving a grin—as nasty as I could make it, a sign of things I was about to do, a sort of payback for her masterful manipulation. She stared back, her open mouth, the visible teeth morphed into a half-smile, still focused on how pleasurable my tongue was on her pussy. Immediately, I placed my finger on her clit, pressing softly against it, then circling it before I dipped my tongue deeper into her unimaginably tight hole. Her breathing went faster, her lower-half rubbed softly—even resisting when the pleasure was far too much. Of course, that’s not what she signed up for—she signed up for a grueling fucking, a rough marking by her beloved professor. 

10 seconds, only 10 seconds after the eye-contact, she came all over the bed. Her juices flowed freely, painting her inner thighs in some beautiful glossy coating. Her abdomen tensed in a rough hyperventilation, her cries grew higher and loud before she released into a deep moan. I tried to get as much of her juices on my fingers as possible, before letting her take it in the mouth—making her taste the fruits of her efforts, then spreading the saliva on my fingers over her chin.

“You taste amazing by the way.” I stated, waiting for some explanation.

“This is how I taste, always.” She panted, justifying it all.

“It wasn’t just a carefully constructed ruse to bed me?”

She scoffed, “What kind of evil bitch do you think I am? I’m beginning to worry about what type of woman you bedded before me to make you think pussy tastes bad.” Scoffing, her chest heaving, all glistened up.

“I’m a virgin too, I wouldn’t know.” I replied, jokingly.

This time, she whimpered, “That’s… Ugh” I felt a resistance, then a strong push, she was suddenly saddened at the prospect of being just another lady bedded, another number. While she focused on the sentiment, my eyes, my lustful gaze only landed on her body. Of course, there’s always an opportunity after every resistance—an opposing force against the applied force. Her head was positioned away, stubbornly opposing, but she left her bare neck—her smooth, thin neck—too openly. 

Thus, my lips ended up on her smooth neck---squeezing out her pitiful moans. "Ungh~stop~! I'm still sensitive." She squeaked, her little throat muscles striated in trying to get her meek statement out. Fuel to the fire, it was only fuel to the fire, like a flame retardant---such as water---only strengthening the flame.

I marked her neck full of light bruises, ones that'll be dark tomorrow---dark in how badly I've wanted to possess her. Truly, I've gone insane. My mouth traced a path, from her soft, bruised neck down her bosom. Her nipples were framed with perky breasts, soft with a delicate femininity that she curated so diligently, so meticulously. Her little squeaks, pleads, exited her cute mouth faster, almost as much as when I ate her pussy. It was due to the multi-task that I engaged in, devouring her breast, whilst my hand massaged the other---less fortunate---breast.

Slowly, I released myself from her delicious breasts, still insatiable, pressed down on her breasts, my index fingers gliding, gripping against her nubs as if it were joysticks---literal joy sticks. Her breasts were painted in a beautiful pink hue, from how I used her, how I marked her---initially whitened from the pressure, then pink, then likely to be red for the rest of the day.

"Eunwoo..." she was splayed out on the bed, utterly satisfied---still with an enthusiastic gaze. "I want to suck your cock." She stated, matter of fact. "I want you to paint my mouth in your seed." she continued. "Let your seed fill my belly, the remains coating my chin..." her movements after each statement, in the silence, moved to push me on my back as she got up from her back. "Because, Professor, Eternal Love? Was that the title? And who was the love interest? If I didn't forget, it was... Khujin? As brilliant as you are, your naming conventions leaves a lot to be desired, I mean come on, it sounds oddly familiar." She completely pushed me over; I was slightly paralyzed with the discovery that she read what I was writing---it wasn't remotely family friendly, and perhaps, aimed towards her. Her eyes stared at me with knowing eyes, what exactly I desired from her at that moment; her lithe, perky body was positioned between my legs, kneeling, preparing to dip her mouth into eternal lust.

"From then on... Khujin took the face-fucking, dutifully, sexually, despite the size with which she was confronted with, took it. Her mouth ached, was pained, though, not in a conventional way; it ached in the desire to take him deeper." She just... requoted the entire sequence perfectly word-for-word from the paper.

Fuck!

There's nothing left to protect, nothing left to resist, we were unclothed, our secrets revealed, there was nothing left except our mutual wish to ravage each other until dawn. Our enlarged pupils---almost alien---met each other, glazed in some atypical determination. Finally, her head lowered and lowered before her tongue placed a meek lick on my cock. Then kisses, then a mix of licks while her hands clenched my wrists---signaling some sign that I shouldn't interfere, that I should enjoy this requited vindication.

Her mouth---even if virginal---provided some of the greatest relief. Her soft lips, erratic, still provided relief from my swollen tip. Her rookie mistakes, the slight graze of teeth, the meddling tongue only seemed to heighten the experience.

"You're a naughty fucking professor." She said, slightly biting down on the head, getting the intended reaction out of me---a great spasm. "Writing porn of a character that exactly resembles me. Mmmm naughty... so fucking naughty.."

"You're a horny, good-for-nothing student, Yujin."

We were fighting while she shallowly sucked in between her sentences, listening thoughtfully with a cock between her lips.

"I remember when you left that jacket at the library, I stole it. Then, I smelt it everyday, the cologne, the detergent, the natural smell. When you slept around I could smell it, the faint flowery smell alien to your scent."

She released her grip on my wrists, instead grabbing my dick, to better stimulate---to better punish. Her mouth hollowed out, the suction tremendously pleasing, the way she tongued at the underside of my shaft showing her real-time improvement. Then she popped my shaft out of her mouth again.

Somehow, she was angry again.

"Do you have nothing to say?" Yujin asked---irritatingly.

"I'm here now, Yujin."

"Idiot."

Her mouth went back, into the irresistible motions that she quickly figured out. Her head bobbed faster, I felt immensely relieved, yet I also felt an unbelievable greed, a sort of ripple between two identities in parallel, fighting for ultimate control.

I quickly and harshly gripped her hair, led her mouth down to the hilt---her low choke lubricated the hilt. Her fingers lightly tapped the sides of my thighs, with her perfect nails, the smooth skin, such a brave contrast to what was happening to her mouth. Her mouth suctioned again, not a word needed for preparedness, only the motions of our sexual organs were enough. Slowly, my grip on her hair went down to her scalp, a firmer place to grasp, to debase her identity further.

Her lips dragged long and hard, the suction felt stronger---the feeling of pulling out from her mouth harder than going in at this point. Her lips occasionally touched the base on my cock, only edging me closer. Until, I peaked, I growled as the first rope of cum landed deep into her throat. Even in this constricted, breathless stance where her dick was so deep in her throat that her throat reddened, her glazed puppy eyes stared back, almost a sign of some sort of sick victory over me. Then a second splash, the pressure so strong you'd think the flow was laminar---though I wouldn't know, her sexy throat hid it all. My head flew back, the relief of it all so strong, ropes turned into strings, strings turned into nothing---only the sensation of a suckling swallow could be felt on my sensitive tip.

There was no brief awkward silence, her mouth released in a godly erotic fashion. Her spittle still gathered on my cock, the spit strands coating her chin, her tongue clear and empty of the load I covered the insides of her mouth with.

She smiled so brightly - so happily. Her hands patted me on the thighs, trying to help me reconcile the fact that I throat-fucked a college freshman, the age gap already taboo, the fact that we were professor and student - only worsened it.

Her eyes were slightly red, the hint of tear trails on her face apparent. So badly did I want to hold her dear to my body, let the warmth of my chest keep her snug, let her rest. Yet, her reddened tits, her confused doe-like puppy eyes, her confused face, the slight glistening of her inner thighs goaded me endlessly. From that point on, I hadn't even realized I was hovering over her body. We were really gonna do it, I was gonna fuck her on her own bed, this beautiful, smart student.

"You really are an idiot" I say.

"Why? Because I like you? Because you're some respected higher up that I shouldn't entertain having a relationship with?"

It was that word: relationship. What are we gonna become-

"Eunwoo... master... professor... I don't just offer up my virginity to anyone... if you think I'm that easy to offer myself up to anyone - you're fucking crazy."

"You're a seduction master." I chuckle, letting her know the weakness of my self-control.

"If I'm a seduction master, then you're - I don't know - like Alain Delon." her hands hooked the nape of my neck, she was positioned so delicately, ready for whatever I wanted to do to her.

"I want this because I love you, Eunwoo."

"Who would've thought our little freshman is such a romantic, huh?" As I nuzzled my face into the side of her neck, give soft licks to her soft neck - her soft face a contrast to my stubbled jaw.

"Regardless of whether you insert your shaft inside me or not. I'll still follow you, to the ends of the earth, until you file a restraining order- Ah~!"

a single finger entered her, "Shh Yujin, An Yujin - all that pining to give up after a restraining order? I'll have to get you drunk on my dick, so that even the splitting of the earth won't deter you."

She squeaked, she definitely came, she definitely fucking came - hah. I let the finger exit slow, slowly trailing the wet finger up her abdomen - a sort of trail forming.

Finally, I palmed my dick, staring, realizing that I didn't have a condom. "Oh fuck - I don't have a condom" saying my thought out loud, she butts in, "Doesn't matter, please, anything - please." Her desperation clear in her tone - her fingers gripping dearly onto me.

"Who said anyone's leaving?" This time, her eyes were even wider. It was time, she knew it, I knew it, each step an acceleration to a barrier that we kept raising - was there even a barrier anymore? The depravity... the soulful acknowledgement of this cording relationship rose the hairs on my entire body; the blood in my chest frantically seemed to disperse, trying to control itself, to also control my entire body.

Though, if Yujin is under me, begging to be fucked - so hellbent, her glazed and aroused eyes pleading for some sinful contract. If only she knew - how much I'd do - there needn't be a single contract. I couldn't ever control myself anyway, what's there to deny?

Slowly - slowly - entered her, her sopping wetness gladly parted with some paradoxical resistance. The more I entered, the more her pussy resisted, the more her pussy pulled me in. The most sinful sounds, even more so than those of a minute ago, the squelch of a virgin hole being stretched - fuck, holy fuck.

"Ngghhh~ holy shit, please, more!" She desperately tried to close her mouth, aware of the lack of noise canceling. The way her mewls and moans exited between the tightest clasp of her mouth, the way her twinkled, the exasperation of a different type of pain stretching, beautifying her already goddess-like face. "I love it! Eunwoo~", that earned her a full stroke to the hilt. I grabbed the hand off her mouth - the way her face morphed into fear was beautiful, she was close to her neighbors - those neighbors who were about to hear Yujin's highest shrieks, highest orgasms. Another stroke, then another, I couldn't even describe how sinful her sounds were, shrieks, moans, deep to high - the sheer entropy of her mannerisms clearly showing her arousal. The next door neighbors would know, even the vertical neighbors would know. If they saw me entering her home, then I'm fucked - yet, I can't stop fucking her, the way her hips rotate and drift off my cock, the way her pussy lips wrap so tightly, so snug around my length.

I began pounding away, her thin waist acclimating to my tight grip, the way her breasts bounced when her ass slapped against my loins; who said missionary was boring? The way I kneeled, the way her body angled at a point - true rookie mistake - I kept pounding away at her g-spot. How many times she came - I wouldn't know - but the amount of liquid dispersed all over us, a mix of sweat and whatever else was definitely a clue. The way my length explored her insides so thoroughly, the way I'm pretty sure I bottomed her out, bound to bruise her cervix; the way her moans grew more unhinged, her eyes slowing going back inside her head, her arms almost unresponsive.

Until.

Until, Yujin grabbed onto me, it wasn't an ordinary grip, a nuanced grip that lovers of decades could understand - I'm sure there's some hidden meaning in that. The way her soft fingers grabbed my forearm while she laid down - panting with sweat, the glow of sex, possibly covered in her squirt. I made sure to stop at exactly when the base of my length met with her pussy - immersing myself in her beautiful warmth, sheathed in her velvety walls.

"Eunwoo - please slow down, I'm not going anywhere, by the next half-hour we'll be walking skeletons..."

This time, still plugged with my length I pulled her up, face-to-face where she sat on the slope of my kneel - adjusting myself accordingly to not destroy my knees.

"How could I Yujin? Light of my life, fire of my loin-"

She playfully slapped my shoulder

"Why are you referencing Lolita!?" in a giggling manner, understanding all at once.

"Careful where you slap your hands around, Yujin."

"Hm? What're you gonna do-mm!" A closed reaction to receiving a deep kiss. Slowly, my arms slithered around her back, to make sure that she doesn't fall - but, mostly to ensure that I could fuck her, utterly, fully under my control.

The way her eyes shined, with a deep desire - some atypical lust - yet still somehow looking so innocent, as if brilliant gems were in place of her pupils. Every time I get to stare at her, especially now that our eyes were separated by the width of a nose, I feel glad that someone - just someone like that exists, even better with the fact that we cohabit this area, and even better that our lips slip against each other. The act of exchanging saliva - a deeply disturbing thought - hadn't registered in us at all, only desire and love.

Slowly, her moans left her pretty mouth with emphasis - clearly enjoying the slower pace in which I gave these decrepit kisses to her cervix. Her velvety folds seemed to contract even more spastically - the movement easier, yet tighter, yet harder, parenthetically a paradox.

If only such paradoxes were this pleasurable.

"I'm gonna cum, Yujin." The sounds were absolutely vicious, viscous with the repeated slapping of our loins, the cold strands of her juices landing on my thighs whenever her pink core left the base of my length. "Eunwoo, give it to me, inside, everything." I tried to object; "Eunwoo, shhh, don't try to talk sense with me - it's too late for that, if you don't spill your biggest seed inside me, I'll chase you around the world."

"A restraining order?" I replied, curious for a response.

"And that'll stop me? After getting drunk on your dick, as you said? " She replied back, serious.

"You're right baby." I pumped into her deeper, slanting a little to get topological synchronicity: my chest fully in contact with her chest, the warmth compared to the biting cold of the environment only goading us on further. The way her soft, perky breasts pooled on my chest made my pumps only deeper - kisses more passionate.

"What if I do? What if I cum inside you?" Our eyes were level, engaging in a seriously serious topic. All care should've been granted to the topic - of course, we both knew the pending event.

"Then, presumably, understandably, I'll be by your side - with your favorite tea, massaging your soreness. And maybe, just maybe, nursing a little Eunwoo." Fuck! I hugged her tight - too tight. The small of her back caved in with my tight hug as I mashed my dick inside her swollen pussy. The way she moaned was less noticeable, she was so focused on receiving the load - breathing into the side of my neck, playing with my hair, exacting some stimuli to wring me out dry.

Her body perfectly molded into my force. Her ass molded against my tough thighs, her hard nipples poked my chest expectedly. When, just when, the hypothetical situation with Yujin - of a filial future - flashed in my mind, the first release of semen launched inside her. Ribbons of her deepest desire filled her - indulging her. We kissed - the natural course as expected when I released inside her.

Ropes of semen turned into strings, then finally - nothing. We embraced each other, I still hugged her just as tight, she hugged back with the delicacy of an angel.

"Yujin..."

"Holy shit." She replied.

Holy shit was right.

"-Like holy fucking shit." I emphatically replied.

Her gem-like pupils looked at me, her entire face turned into a smile.

"You'll have to call me wife from now on."

"Hm?" Fully not processing her request.

"Call me wife behind closed doors."

"Why?"

"Because.. why not?"

After a swift thought - one that didn't really have any substance at all - "Wife... wife... rolls off the tongue nicely."

She gave a peck on my lips, "make sure that it rolls off the tongue as easy as it does now... I'll want to hear it everyday."

"Wifey... who's cleaning the bed?" I jokingly inquired - of course, the truth was that the bed wouldn't dry in a day, and the way we are right now: the overflowing semen was still plugged inside her - with my cock.

Though, that would be a worry that could be taken care of later. Right now, the half-life of our post-sex fatigue finished - the other half to be finished when our lips met again.

Fin.

[literally-loco]

My Boys' Girl (18+)

Pairings: John Price / Simon "Ghost" Riley / Fem!Reader / Johnny "Soap" MacTavish Content Warnings: Voyeurism, mentioned exhibitionism, she/her pronouns used for reader Word Count: 1.1k A/N: Shorter fic this time-I've got a longer one in the works tho! Also-If anyone has any fic suggestions PLEASE tell me and i'll try my best xoxo

———————————————————————— “She wanted to show off for you, Cap.”

————————————————————————

John Price knew what his boys got up to in their spare time. He didn’t have to be told-he saw how they looked at each other, how they’d cuddled up to each other in the back of the van when they thought no one was looking, how they’d instantly look at each other at the mention of an “early finish.” He knew what they got up to. Not that he cared-he loved his lads like they were family. He’d shot enough evil glares at anyone who dared to criticize or gossip about the two. But what he didn’t know was how they’d managed to pick up you. The pretty little thing he’d seen clutching Johnny’s arm when they went to the pub, with the most beautiful eyes. He was happy for his lads-how they’d found home in each other, but God his eyes were drawn to you. Your perfect curves, your breasts (even if it made him feel like a dick), and your eyes. He could envision them looking up at him through those beautiful lashes, lips wrapped around his cock. 

He felt terrible about it. The lads obviously liked you a lot, and you’d been nothing but nice to him. And here he was-fantasizing about you. He’d often find himself getting off to you, wearing whatever tight little dress he’d seen you in. Cock in hand, imagining it was your mouth he was fucking. Nearly every night he’d flick through the selfies he’d gotten from MacTavish, nearly every photo including you. 

And then another notification came through-a photo, as usual. But it wasn’t the usual jokey selfie-which usually included you draped over the lads in some sort of way. This was different. This photo was…new. Evidently Ghost’s hands-based on the glove-tilting your face up by the chin, with your big, beautiful eyes staring into the camera. Eyes lidded every so slightly, with a blissed out look on your face. God you looked perfect. 

He hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring at that picture, his cock already stiffening in his trousers, until the next one came through. He exhaled sharply through his nose, gripping the arm of the chair a lot tighter than he had previously. It was like he could feel all the blood in his body rushing down, as he caught sight of you in the photo. Ass up in the air, face down in the pillow. Ghost’s hands were clearly holding your hands behind your back, and your pussy was barely covered by the lacy piece of string you called a thong. 

“She wanted to show off for you Cap.” The text read, and Price sucked in a breath. His hand swiftly reached down to palm his now painfully hard cock through his trousers. He could just imagine slipping his fingers inside you-finding that sweet spot deep inside you that would make your toes curl. 

His fingers were pressing the call button before he knew what he was doing. 

“Evening Captain. To what do we owe the honor?” Johnny’s voice rang out, sounding slightly too amused with himself.

“Photos, MacTavish. What was up with that?” Price asked, his voice catching in his throat slightly at Johnny’s ever so evil chuckle.

Price swears he can hear the plot in Johnny’s head as he spoke, the soft rustling of the duvet giving away where exactly he was. “Why don’t I put her on the phone for you?” 

————————————————————————

You could barely think-but somehow managed to pull yourself together enough to take the phone off of Johnny. “He-Hey John!” You squeaked out, instantly covering your mouth to conceal the moan that dared to try to escape your lips. Ghost’s hands gripped your hips, fucking into you at such speed you wondered how his knees didn’t give out, with his cock hitting that sweet spongy part deep inside you. 

“Heard you wanted to show off for me, love?” His voice rumbled through the phone, dark and smooth like a good whiskey. That teasing tone, the soft chuckle in his words, it was enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Go on then. Talk to me.”

At that, Ghost picked up the pace, hands gripping the flesh of your hip so tight you were sure it would leave bruises. “Is he making you feel good, love? Making your legs shake?” You inhaled a strangled gasp, biting your lower lip slightly. 

“Asked you a question.” Ye-ah-” You whined, bucking your hips back against Ghost. Something about having Price on the phone, with Ghost fucking you like his life depended on it, and Johnny watching from the corner-it felt so dirty. But so good. “Need-need to cum-” 

“I know you do, love. Gonna cum for me?” Ghost’s hands found your clit, earning a string of moans out of you. “Yeah she is-can feel her squeezing around me. So fucking tight-and wet-” Ghost’s thrusts grew staggered, his hips slamming into yours. You didn’t care to be quiet anymore, there was no point. 

————————————————————————

John already knew what was going on. He’d known before he’d called. He knew when he called that you’d be on your back-but he hadn’t expected to be listening. It felt dirty. But God the way your sweet little moans had him gripping his aching cock, and his head tossed back over the chair. Bucking his hips up into his hand, imagining he was fucking your soft little cunt. “Gonna cum for me?” He’d asked-and the gasps and moans he got in return had him gasping for breath. 

“I know you need it, love.” He murmured into the phone, trying his hardest not to cum before you. “Be a good girl and cum for me.” He needed to hear you cum. To hear those gorgeous gasps as you came on his Lieutenant’s cock, imagining he was the one balls deep inside you. “Come on, love, cum for me.” 

And the shuddering moans he received was enough for him to spill over his hand. Panting heavily-he was barely aware enough to hear Ghost’s cursing gasps as he followed. 

“Enjoyed the show then, Captain?” Johnny’s voice was back, sounding equally out of breath as the rest of them. “Should’ve seen it in person-she played such a good girl when you got on the phone.” His words sent another shudder down his back.

“You knew then?” 

“Had a hunch. Couldn’t keep your eyes off of her.” Price groaned as his hand-the clean one-came up to cover his face. He’d been that obvious. The whole time. 

“Don’t worry lad-she’s already eager to see you again. I’m always down for a good show-and Simon’s pretty interested in seeing how she’d take both of you.”  Well shit. The next pub meet was going to go very well for him.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Eyes

Dp x Dc Crossover Writing Idea

“Red Robin!”

When he backtracked to find the owner of the voice he was a bit surprised to find a young boy, maybe eight years old if he had to guess, dressed in a red sweatshirt that dwarfed him and a pair of gym shorts that had seen better days.

Not many Gothamites called out to the vigilantes, a silent agreement to stay out of their way and not to look too closely. This kid however stared up at him with bright blue eyes unafraid of getting the Red Robin’s attention.

A fan?

Before he even opens his mouth, the kid gives him a small, hopeful smile, eyes shining with something that reminds him of himself when he was that age and following Batman and Robin with his camera around his tiny neck.

“I brought you a gift,” the boy say with nervous excitement. He enthusiastically swings off the backpack he had on to dig through the contents, taking his eyes off the vigilante and showing his unwavering trust that nothing bad would happen to him while Red Robin was here.

The boy pulls out what appears to be a jar wrapped in newspaper, the worn page ripping in some spots to show the clear glass underneath. Small hands present it like it’s Red Robin’s birthday (which it wasn’t).

He takes it cautiously, the kid hasn’t been hostile but this was still weird, and pulls it closer with enough space so if it’s a bomb it doesn’t blow up in his face.

It’s got weight to it and the slight sloshing tells him it’s filled with liquid. He carefully unwraps the ‘gift’, keeping his eye on the boy who stands waiting anxiously.

Tim almost drops the jar as soon as he sees what’s inside. Only his reflexes from over the years held on and his expression turned neutral.

A pair of eyes sit at the bottom of the jar. The orbs were crudely extracted, tissue floating around them like a mane of hair around a head.

He turns the jar to see the irises and… he knew these eyes. The slimy green is filmed with death, but he recognized these eyes from the number of times the owner locked them onto him, the cruel possessiveness they possessed when they gazed at him. Never again apparently.

Tim doesn’t speak for a while, not knowing what to say, but also thoughts racing too fast to form any proper sentences.

“Do you like it?” The small, nervous voice interrupts those thoughts.

What an innocent question on an equally innocent looking face.

“How did you get Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes?”

The teasing chatter over the comms immediately hushes into shocked silence.

“I took them from his body, so you knew he was dead. I burned the rest so you don’t have to worry about him coming back again. The Pit there is gone anyway,” the child explains easily, not fazed in the slightest from the words he speaks.

“Grandfather is dead?” He hears Damian whisper over the comm.

So many other questions were flying through Tim’s head. He looks the kid over again.

Black hair and blue eyes. In any other situation the kid might have been a possible Wayne adoptee. He’s not a clone from what he can see though. Despite the coloring he doesn’t really look like any of them. Pale skin like Tim, but has freckles. The same kind of nose as Damian, but wide, round eyes. Jaw kind of like Jason, but his body shape is too narrow. Bright, almost icy blue eyes like Dick, but eyebrow shape is flatter. Lip shape like Bruce, but from the kid’s anxious lip biting he could see the faintest trace of dimples.

“Who are you?” He asks instead of the other million and one questions.

The boy blinks almost like he wasn’t expecting the question. He’s cheeks color pink with blush as he grins widely.

“I’m Danny!” He introduces cheerfully like he didn’t just hand a vigilante a jar of eyes.

“Hi, Danny,” Tim greets almost dumbly. “Want to tell me why you gave me this?”

Danny scoffs his shoe against the pavement in what appears to be embarrassment.

“Well, I know when you ask someone for something, it’s nice to give a gift or something. Like I did something nice for you so maybe you’ll do something nice for me?”

He takes a moment to absorb that child-like reasoning.

“So you want me to do something for you and you thought I would like Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes in exchange?”

Danny studies him and fidgets with the large sweatshirt sleeve.

“I just thought you would like proof. Like the whole ‘bring me the heart of my enemy’ kind of thing. Do you not like it? I couldn’t just take a picture ‘cuz I didn’t have a camera with me, I know you like photography. I can do something else for you if it’s not enough,” he offers worriedly.

Tim freezes.

“How do you know I like photography?” He demands.

Danny tilts his head curiously.

“Because Tim Drake likes photography,” he says like it’s obvious, “and you’re Tim Drake.”

Well. This is less than ideal.

“Red Robin, take him back to the Cave,” Batman instructs over the comms.

Yeah, he was getting there.

“Do you know the other’s’ identities?”

Danny nods and hums affirmatively. Tim waits.

“Oh! Yea. Batman is Bruce Wayne. Robin is Damian Wayne. Red Hood is Jason Todd. Nightwing is Richard Grey-“

“Okay. That’s enough.”

Tim glances around the empty alley they were standing in, checking to make sure no stray people heard. Luckily they were truly alone.

“Danny, do you want to come back with me?” He asks, but it’s not really a question. The kid was coming back regardless, it would just be better if he went willingly.

Unsurprisingly, the kid lights up like a little sun at the offer.

“Really?” He nearly shouts in excitement.

“Yeah, kid. I parked my bike a few blocks from here. You ever rode a motorcycle before?”

Danny shakes his head, nearly bounding on his toes.

“Not in this lifetime.” And wasn’t that odd wording? “Are we gonna grapple there?”

“Think you can hold on?”

“Yeah!”

He kneels down so the boy can climb onto his back and lock his arms around his neck and hook his feet together around his torso. Danny is worryingly light as he stands.

The kid is the picture of an excited and overeager child as they carefully fly over rooftops and then drive back to the Cave. Even when they park inside the safety of the Batcave, Danny’s eyes are filled with child-like awe and wonder, so curious and chattering with questions and wild imagination. It would be cute, endearing even, if the jar of eyes wasn’t sitting heavily in his pocket.

Alfred came down not too long after their arrival with a tray of healthy snacks and some waters. Danny happily munches on the apple slices as he wanders around where Tim can see him.

The rumble of the Batmobile can be heard almost an hour later after Tim has to tell Danny not to touch the weapons for the fourth time. The kid’s attention is drawn to the sleek black vehicle as it parks by Tim’s bike. He trots over with wide eyes as the doors open and Robin exits, then Batman.

Unfortunately, Dick is in Bludhaven and Jason is visiting Roy and Lian this week. Cass and Steph were gone as well and Duke was sleeping. It was just the three of them and this kid with Alfred as the only buffer.

Danny stares openly, curious, as the duo makes their way over to the computer where Tim has claimed his sit.

Tim turns the jar that he set on the table so the eyes are facing them and slowly leans back again, suddenly very tired. Damian flexes his hands into fists tightly while Batman is very still.

“Hi,” Danny chirps like nothing is wrong, oblivious to the tension in the air.

Batman takes a measured breath. Robin glares down at the child, but remains silent for now.

“Who killed Ra’s Al Ghul?”

Danny blinks blankly.

“Nobody.”

“You’re saying he just dropped dead?” Damian sneered in sarcasm.

“Death took him,” the child says simply as if that explained everything.

“How?” The word is demanded and emphasized.

“Like Death takes everyone. His expiration was overdue.”

Bruce frowns and Damian almost snarls.

“I demand you start making sense!”

Danny glares back in offense.

“I’m being very clear! Maybe you should ask better questions!”

The twelve year old growls at the smaller child and Batman has to place a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him from attacking.

“Danny?” Batman questions after a tense moment.

The boy’s arms are crossed in irritation, but he blinks out of his glare to stare up at the man.

“Yea?”

“How do you know our identities?”

“Oh, memories.”

Danny looked like everything he said made sense and it was driving Tim up a wall.

“Memories,” Bruce repeats.

“Uh-huh,” Danny nods confidently. “From the Lazarus Pit.”

A jolt goes through Tim as he recalls what the boy said earlier about the Pit.

“Didn’t you say the Pit was gone?” He asks before Bruce could continue his line of questioning.

Danny turns with a bright smile as if he was proud Tim remembered.

“Yea! Well, gone from this world anyway.” Tim was concerned. “I took the memories from it before sending it back where it belongs.”

“Okay. How did you know how to ‘take the memories’ and send it back? Back where?”

“I was born from it. Duh. It went back to the Realms or I guess you’d call it the Afterlife,” Danny actually rolls his eyes as if they should already know this.

“Born from it?” Damian asks with a wavering voice, hidden well from the child but not from them. “Nothing has ever been born from the Pits.”

“That you know of.”

And wasn’t that the kicker.

“So, to clarify, you come from the Pits. You know who we are because you took the memories from said Pits. Death took Ra’s because his time was up. And you took the eyes from his corpse to give to me because you thought I would like it as a gift so I would do something for you.”

Danny positively beams.

“This is why you’re my favorite!”

Damian grinds his teeth harshly.

“What is it you want Red Robin to do for you?” Batman asks in strangled hesitation.

“Oh!” Danny perks up like he remembered and hops over to Tim with pleading hands. “Can you please make me an identity? You’re really good at all that stuff and I was hoping you could find me a family. Someone to adopt me. A nice family, with a bed and family dinners and a dog. I always wanted a dog.”

Tim has the sudden urge to scream.

[bucksangel]

more than a mid day amusement

pairing: sugar daddy/silver fox!bucky x reader

word count: 5k

summary: being in a relationship with an older man comes with challenges, all that come to a head one night when an old friend digs up some insecurities and threatens to break everything you have with the man you love.

warnings: 18+ ONLY, sugardaddy!au, age gap, angst, fluff, jealousy, love-making, fingering, unprotected p in v, bucky is a silver fox, pet names (princess), daddy kink, love confessions, happy ending

a/n: i read this fic by @witchywithwhiskey and decided I wanted to write a sugar daddy!bucky fic, so here y’all go! Thank you molly for unintentionally giving me inspiration🤍

masterlist | tip jar | ao3

Upon walking through the doors, you have to fight to not let your mouth drop open. The ballroom is, to put it simply, utterly gorgeous. Several chandeliers hang from the tall ceiling, the tile floors are pearly and pristine, and the artwork adorning the walls is almost too beautiful to look at. There was a large Angel fountain in front of the property, and there’s a matching one inside in the middle of the room. Dozens of butlers walk by every minute, all holding a tray of champagne or an array of Hors D’oeuvres, and maids linger on the outskirts ready to clean up any messes. There are easily over two hundred people here to raise money for some children’s charity that you can’t remember the name of, and all are ready to spend more money on a single sculpture than you spend on rent for an entire year.

The people that you engage with upon first entering are dull, so much so that you grab a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and sip on it while staring at the art, letting Bucky do all the talking. He does his best to involve you in the conversations whenever he can, but he understands you’re not here to talk business, so he doesn’t let the talks dip any further than surface level – always mindful of your time. While you never mind, after all you know why you’re here, you are thankful because you’re pretty sure your brain can’t hold any more information on Stark’s stock prices.

These parties – galas, charities, call it whatever you want – are always boring, too many rich people with fake laughs and ulterior motives and side eyes. Your first was about six months ago, and you were pretty sure your anxiety had never been so bad, obsessing over the dress Bucky chose for you and if it would be appropriate, if people would think you looked nice, if your hair was in place because you would be damned if you made Bucky look bad by looking bad yourself. And, maybe you wanted to look good for him too.

Your relationship isn’t conventional, it never has been. You met through one of those stereotypical romantic comedies “we walked into each other and spilled our coffees on each other” meet-cute situations outside of the coffee shop. Except, you weren’t all that cute about it. It was your favorite shirt, and you were going to be at work on time except now you had to go to the store to get a new one because your apartment was too far away to simply go back. You’ll admit that you were a little rude to him, especially since even then you knew it was an honest mistake, but one flash of Bucky’s pearly white teeth and the low tenor of his voice asking if he can buy you a new one – a shirt and coffee – had you crumbling.

He understood your reservations about you letting him drive you to a nearby store, you were strangers after all, but he had absolutely no trouble pulling out his wallet and flipping it open, and you will also admit that the sound you made when he did so was not dignified. The stack of one-hundred-dollar bills was obscene and the sleek black card on the side was taunting you, prompting you to wonder what in the hell this man did for work. He was older, maybe later forties or early fifties, dressed in a sharp black on black suit with matching loafers, his hair was perfectly slicked back, and you still don’t know much about cologne, but you were pretty sure that his easily cost hundreds of dollars.

He handed you three hundred dollars for the new shirt, waving off your balking expression by saying that he feels really bad because he can see how upset you are so “please treat yourself.” You were a little apprehensive about taking it, but Bucky was so sincere and kind and, truthfully, you needed the money. So, you took it.

And his invitation for a date.

You’re still not sure how he got you to agree to it, even now Bucky says he’s not sure either, but you chalk it up to the fact that he’s a dangerous sweet talker. The fact that he’s a walking God among men just sweetened the deal. The silver in his beard and the grays at his temples made him look refined, dignified, like he was confident and knew what he wanted, and would do anything to get it.

Apparently, you were what he wanted.

The date was nothing short of lovely, a beautiful dinner at some fancy high-rise restaurant in Manhattan overlooking the city as the sun was setting. It wasn’t packed, so there was only the quiet murmur of conversation mingled in with the Orchestral strings from the band in the corner while you ate better than you have in your entire life. Surprisingly, you both had a lot in common, you have similar music tastes, book recommendations, food palettes, almost everything really. The connection came as a shock considering you’re easily twenty years younger than him, and that’s when you really understood that age was just a number.

Given your age gap and his obvious wealth, you had a feeling you knew where this date was headed, but Bucky hadn’t made you feel awkward or made any inappropriate advances or comments, so you pushed it aside and sat through the date with a wide smile and a full belly. By three glasses of wine in, you were giggly, and Bucky was a little flushed from the bourbon he’d been nursing, and when the waiter took your plates and went to get the dessert, he broke the news.

Bucky, as you can see, is older, he’s not married, has no kids, living in a too-big house. Being one of the top CEOs in the country, all the women he meets are after his money, always with an ulterior motive, and to an extent he understands why. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt though. But, Bucky doesn’t have a lot of time to go out and find the perfect woman right now, so all he wants is some companionship, someone to take on trips and dates when he gets bored, someone to spoil and dote on because he’s a provider by nature. He’d want you to accompany him to the events he has to attend as part of work, and in return he’d give you an allowance on top of paying for your apartment.

He laid everything out, asking you questions and answering anything that you had, talking in depth and easing any worries you had over an older man asking you to be his sugar baby. You’ve never done this before, so it felt a little weird to be talking about it, but by the time you’d finished dessert, you were free of any hesitation.

You went home that night with Bucky’s number in your phone, five hundred dollars in your wallet, and a pending payment to your apartment complex for that month’s rent.

Tonight is similar to other charity events, boring small talk with even more boring people that’s only made better by Bucky’s arm around your waist. Also the new necklace he’d given you when he picked you up earlier that evening.

The necklace – a simple pearl on a gold chain, matches your light peach dress. The dress cups your breasts and hugs your waist, then flows around your hips to form a small train behind you as you walk. It’s smooth silk, and Bucky laughed when you asked to marry him because he made sure to tell the designer to add pockets. It’s beautiful, something Bucky has taken note of multiple times tonight.

“You’re stunning, you know that?” Bucky asks softly, his lips pressed to your ear and his hand warm on your lower back. You’re standing off to the side with drinks in your hands, facing each other in your own little bubble as you talk and joke about the people walking by. “The most beautiful princess ever.”

Giggling, you can feel your cheeks heating up at the same time as your eyes roll a little.

“You’ve said that like five times tonight,” You tease, reaching up with your free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear.

“Well, how rude of me,” He says with a mischievous smile. “It should be triple by now.”

“You know you don’t need to sweet talk me, I’m already going home with you.” Again, you giggle, shaking your head teasingly.

“It’s not about that,” Bucky says seriously, his voice turning stern. “I don’t care if you sleep with me tonight or not, you’re beautiful, and you should know that.”

Butterflies fill your tummy, and your face grows warmer. Your heart bursts with affection at the same time feeling like it’s been stabbed. Lately, Bucky’s been getting a little more affectionate with his words and actions, which is saying something considering he already doted on you quite a bit. Part of you wonder if your feelings for him are reciprocated, if you’re not falling in love alone.

Because, as much as you tried not to, you fell for your sugar daddy.

It’s probably a bad idea to let yourself sink into the delusion that you’re actually a couple, that you’re both in love without the monetary incentive. In fact, you know it’s dangerous.

That’s not going to stop you tonight.

Leaning up, you place a soft and lingering kiss on Bucky’s lips, both of you sighing into the kiss. “Thank you, daddy,” You whisper when you pull away, looking into his eyes and seeing a twinkle in them. You’re not sure what it means, and you want so desperately to ask why he’s looking at you like you’re his whole world, but the words die on your tongue. You don’t want to ruin the moment by revealing your feelings.

After a pause, Bucky smirks. “You’re welcome, princess.” He leans down this time and kisses you again, this time it’s a little more passionate. His tongue invades your mouth, his hand drifting to your waist and gripping it tight, pulling you flush against your body. The kiss feels different somehow, the sparks are flying higher than usual, and something deep in your bones knows that things are going to change tonight.

You pull away only when your lungs are screaming for air, even though you’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of the evening kissing him, touching him, worshipping him and letting him worship you. Intimacy is never boring with you two, it’s always intense, whether he’s plowing into you from behind and calling you degrading names or you’re in missionary, whining and whimpering because Bucky won’t speed up his hips. He could, and has, spent hours eating you out, making you cum over and over until you black out, only for him to fuck you awake. You’ve sucked his dick under the tables of various restaurants. You’ve let him convince you to wear dresses without panties on your dates. Whatever it is you do, you know you’ll have fun.

Hours pass by with Bucky guiding you around the ballroom, making small talk with people you don’t know the names of, playing the part of his doting date expertly. It’s when he leaves your side to go to the bar that things heat up.

“Oh my god,” A deep voice says behind you, and for a split second you have a sense of nostalgia, like you’ve heard that voice before. A hand touches your arm, prompting you turn around and come face to face with the man that approached you.

And wouldn’t you know it, it’s Aaron, your best friend from childhood. Happiness immediately floods your body. You haven’t seen or heard from him in so long, not that there was a bad falling out, you two just grew apart. But it’s still good to see him, he was a part of so many happy memories when you were a kid.

“Oh my god!” You repeat, your eyes widen. Both of you outstretch your arms at the same time, going in for a hug with smiles on your faces. “Aaron, it’s so good to see you! We haven’t talked in so long.”

“I know,” He says remorsefully, sporting a sheepish grin that you match. “I’m sorry about that. You were my best friend.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault, okay? It was both of us.” Your reassurance seems to put him at ease, and you fall into an easy conversation, catching up on your lives and reminiscing on your younger years and the trouble you both got into.

“Remember when Anthony tripped you for saying no to his marriage proposal?” Aaron asks with a chuckle, and you let out a laugh at the memory.

“Well, we were seven and at that time all boys had cooties, so I’m not sure why he thought I’d say yes.”

“Princess.” Bucky says from behind you, and you turn around to see him holding a glass of bourbon with slightly furrowed brows.

“Oh, Bucky!” You exclaim, reaching out for him and tugging him closer. “This is Aaron, we used to be the best of friends when we were kids.”

“I know Aaron,” Bucky says cooly, wrapping his arm around your waist possessively. When you look back at your friend, you completely miss the anger in Bucky’s eyes. “We went to the same college. I was a TA for a few of his first year classes.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you look between Bucky and Aaron with a quizzical look.

“Really? Wow, the world is small.” You laugh softly, as does Aaron.

Bucky stays silent. In fact, he stays relatively quiet for the entire interaction, letting you and your friend reconnect for what feels like hours. Eventually, though, all the champagne you’ve drank has gotten to your system and the need to pee hits you straight in the gut. Extracting yourself from Bucky’s hold, you tell the men that you’re going to the bathroom, and kiss Bucky’s cheek before turning and walking towards the hallway that leads to it.

And while you’re in the bathroom, you’re ruminating a little on your conversation, and an unpleasant feeling settles in your stomach when you finally register all the compliments Aaron was throwing your way and how Bucky’s grip would tighten with each one. But you saw his wedding ring, so you’re sure he doesn’t have an ulterior motive. Maybe he just genuinely wants you to know you look nice.

However, when you get back to the ballroom and scan the crowd, you see Bucky’s back as he faces your friend. Aaron has a smug smirk on his face, his hands in his pockets, and his posture relaxed. He doesn’t seem phased by whatever Bucky is saying, making you curious as to what they’re talking about. When you get a few feet behind them, you start to hear it.

“…So leave her alone, okay? She’s taken.” Bucky’s voice is deep, using what you’ve deemed his Important CEO voice.

“I don’t know about that,” Aaron says, and the unpleasant feeling grows. “She didn’t seem to mind that I was flirting with her. Plus, what are you, like, seventy? You’re way too old for her, grandpa. She’s going to leave you eventually.”

Anger flares up in your body, your eyes filling with fire and your heart filling with rage at his degrading comments. Bucky is perfect. He’s kind, respectful, funny, the whole nine yards. So someone insulting him, especially about your age gap which you know he’s already a little self-conscious about.

“She’s my girl,” Bucky reiterates sharply, and you can see his hand tighten around the now empty glass he’s holding. Quite frankly, you’re surprised it hasn’t shattered. With the short pause in their conversation, you decide now is a time to butt in.

“Bucky,” You say, walking up to him further and placing your hand on his back. You want to yell at Aaron for being so rude, maybe even punch him, but you know causing a scene wouldn’t be a good look. You decide it’s safer to play dumb. “I’m not really feeling good.” Bucky’s eyebrows furrow with worry, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, he’s always taken your well-being seriously, and the affection settles you a little.

“Nothing, I just think I drank a little too much. Do you think we could leave?” You briefly glance over at Aaron, seeing that he’s now looking pissed off.

Good.

“Of course we can, princess,” Bucky says softly, leaning forward and kissing your forehead tenderly. “Come.”

You don’t bother saying goodbye to Aaron, you don’t even glance at him as you let Bucky tug you along to the car. You’re starting to get worried with each step you take because you can see that he’s tense while at the same time despondent. He’s never said anything about your age gap bothering him, but you can be observant. You’ve noticed that lately he’s been a little timid when telling anyone how old he is when you’re around, almost like it just drives home the point that you’re so far apart in age and causing others to judge and sneer at both of you. He gets a little shifty when someone comments on it or makes a passing joke, and you always try to reassure him without outright saying that you know.

When you get to the car, he opens your door for you, going about the usual routine of buckling you in and kissing your cheek before shutting the door and going around to his side. Things are quiet and tense the whole drive to Bucky’s penthouse, he’s not even holding your hand or resting his on your thigh like he usually would. It upsets you, and you want so badly to ask what he’s feeling, to tell him that it’s okay because you genuinely do care for him and that Aaron was out of line for saying the things he did.

Again, you can’t seem to find the words.

You still don’t speak when you get to his place. Getting out of the car, the walk into the building, and the elevator ride up to his floor all go about in silence. It’s not until you get into his kitchen that he says anything.

“Are you happy with our arrangement?” He asks as he hands you a glass of water, and the question physically hurts you.

“Of course I am,” You say, even though it’s a complete lie. In reality you want to actually be with him, but you’re still deciding on if you want to tell him. “Are you not?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, and a pit forms in your stomach. Is he really not happy with you? He told Aaron you were his girl, but his silence to your question is deafening.

“So you wouldn’t prefer to actually be in a relationship?” He asks tentatively, putting his hands in his pockets and looking at the ground as though it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “There are plenty of men out there that would love to have you as theirs.”

That stabs at your heart, and you have to force the tears from forming in your eyes. That ‘plenty of men’ comment crushes you, because it just proves to you that he doesn’t see himself actually being in a relationship with you.

“No,” You say after a moment, now looking down at your hands to hide your sad eyes in case he looks at you again.

Everything is quiet for a long while, anxiety bubbling up and threatening to spill. You’ve never felt this way about anyone else, never felt this type of all consuming love for another person, and you don’t want to lose it.

It seems like you might, tonight.

“Um,” Bucky says after a while, clearing his throat. “I can, uh, take you home if you’re still not feeling good.” This time tears do form in your eyes. You don’t want to leave, but it seems like he’s pushing you out as politely as he can.

You know what you need to do.

“If you want to end our arrangement, I understand.” Your voice is soft but thick with how hard you’re trying not to cry. “If you want to be with someone else, it’s okay.” It’s not, not really. But you know it’s not your right to demand that he stay with you if he doesn’t want to.

“I don’t want to be with anyone else,” He confesses hesitantly, and you can feel his gaze boring holes into you. You hear his shoes pad along the carpet until they appear in your line of sight. His hand rests on the back of your neck, guiding your head up to look at him through tears. “But I’m too old for you. You need someone younger, someone better suited for you than I am.”

“You’re perfect for me,” You blurt out despite your better judgment. “You’re not ‘too old’, and there’s no one better suited for me than you. We get along, don’t we? Don’t you at least like my company?”

“I love your company.” Both of you pause, and this time a spark of hope ignites in your heart. “I love you.”

His soft admission causes you to gasp, and your anxiety completely fades away.  Now that you know his feelings, you’re not going to let him push you away.

“But- “

“But nothing,” You say, standing up on wobbly legs due to your heels. Bucky immediately reaches for your waist to steady you, and they don’t drop when you’re upright. “Even if it’s difficult, if we love each other, it’ll be worth it.”

“You love me?” Bucky sounds shocked, his eyes widening almost comically, though hopefully.

“I do,” You whisper, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear and then cupping his cheek in your palms. “I love you, Bucky. You. Not anyone else. I don’t care how old you are because we connect. We understand each other like I know no one else can.”

Bucky sighs, relieved, and leans forward to rest his forehead on yours. Slowly, he leans down further until his lips are hovering right over yours, but not taking the plunge. Only when you whine does he actually kiss you. It’s not all tongues and teeth and clashing and intensity, it’s warm and passionate and loving, it’s perfect. You kiss for what feels like forever, your lips gliding against each other as you soak each other in. After a while, Bucky pulls away, though only enough to once again hover over his mouth over yours.

“You really love me, princess?” The tenor in his voice shifts the mood, the way he pulls you flush against his body so you can feel the hard outline of his bulge.

“I really love you, daddy.” You smile, as does Bucky, before he suddenly leans down and grabs the back of your thighs so he can lift you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist.

He stares into your eyes the entire walk to his bedroom, and you almost want to cry with how happy you are. The brief angst of almost losing what you have is gone, replaced now with love and lust. He gently sets you down on the floor, wasting no time yet at the same time taking great care of undressing you, sliding your dress off as he presses kisses wherever he can reach. You’re whimpering, your need bubbling up and threatening to make you cry with frustration. You always get a little dumb with Bucky in the bedroom, easily going under until all you can think of and focus on is Bucky.

You look at Bucky while he lowers himself to his knees, putting your hands on his shoulders to steady you as he takes off your heels. He places kisses on your thighs, spreading your legs a little so he can brush his nose along your pubic bone and inhale your scent.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” He groans, his tongue darting out and forcing its way through your folds to tease your clit. And you’re extremely thankful you went without panties tonight.

“Daddy,” You whine, shifting forward into Bucky’s mouth, but he retreats as soon as you do. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” He murmurs, standing back on his feet. And, even though you want to tear his clothes off, you also don’t want to ruin the serenity of the moment. So you’re slow when taking Bucky’s clothes off, also kissing him and relishing in his pleased sighs and quiet moans.

“Da-“

Bucky cuts you off with a kiss, once again taking you into his arms so he can lay you gently on the bed. He climbs on top of you, continuing to kiss you until you’re breathless and only vaguely aware of Bucky’s hand creeping up your inner thigh until you’re gasping into his mouth due to his thumb settling right against your clit.

“Say it again,” He demands, and you know what he wants to hear.

“I love you.” At that, he rubs his thumb in slow circles, dipping one finger into your aching hole in one fluid motion. You moan loudly, arching your back slightly and pressing your breasts against Bucky’s chest.

He doesn’t speed up his movements, is methodical in how he takes you apart just with his hands. While he fits a second finger in your pussy he starts massaging your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple as he kisses and sucks and nibbles at your jaw and neck, no doubt leaving marks of ownership that you’ll wear proudly.

He continues his gentle movements, only speeding up slightly when he notices your pleasure is growing.

“Fuck, princess, need you to cum so I can be inside you.” His begging only gets you more worked up and you’re so close you can taste your release. “Please, cum.”

And you do, letting go with a wail that Bucky swallows with his mouth. He fingers you through your orgasm, only stopping when you start whining at the sensitivity.

“Daddy,” You say, though you’re not sure exactly what you want to say.

“What do you need, princess?”

“You.” Your response is immediate, and you see Bucky’s features soften. “Always you. Only you.”

Bucky groans and hurriedly situates himself between your spread legs. He reaches between his legs and grasps his cock, hissing at the pleasure before he guides himself to your entrance. With a loving look into your eyes, he smiles and says, “I love you.”

And that’s all the preamble needed for Bucky to push in, slowly stretching you and splitting you open until you’re fully speared on his cock. You can’t do much more than grasp his shoulders, pulling him flush against you so all you can feel, smell, and see is Bucky, your love. He stays still for a moment, letting both of you adjust, simply staring into each other’s eyes as though you can’t get enough of it.

“Please move, daddy.”

He does, pulling his hips back and then thrusting forward, forcing a moan from your mouth. He does it again and again until he’s worked up a steady rhythm, making love to you and worshipping you with his mouth, his hands, and his words. He’s praising you endlessly, telling you how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, how lucky he is that you want to be his.

You don’t realize you’re crying until Bucky’s lips ghost over your cheek and catch a tear, shushing and cooing at you.

“Princess, fuck princess, I love you so much. You feel so fucking good around me, you’re fucking perfect, you know that? The only one for me for this life and any others I live.” Bucky doesn’t stop there, he keeps telling you sweet things and thrusting his hips and nailing your special spot with each one.

“I’m gonna cum, daddy!”

“Hold it,” He says, fucking you a little faster. “Cum with me.”

You whine, and you desperately want to cum, but if Bucky doesn’t want you to then you won’t. So, you hold off as best as you can, resigning yourself to simply feeling, sinking into the pleasure and your head going fuzzier and fuzzier until you’re vaguely aware of Bucky’s desperate and husky voice ordering you to cum.

Through tears, you cry out as your orgasm washes over you, gripping Bucky like a lifeline as he spills inside of you. It lasts eons, flames igniting your skin as both of you share such a special moment. When you finally come down from your high, Bucky is clearly trying not to collapse on top of you, causing you to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, teasing.

“Nothing,” You assure, now rubbing up and down his back. “I’m just happy.”

Bucky sighs, smiling softly before leaning down to kiss you chastely. Carefully, he rolls you both over so you’re now lying on top of him with his cock still lodged deep in your pussy, keeping his release in place.

“I’m happy too,” Bucky confesses, smiling wider when you do. You both go quiet for a long while, you’re resting your head on his chest and he’s rubbing your back and sides, reveling in the love you share. When you yawn, Bucky chuckles, kissing the top of your head.

“Go to bed, princess. I’ll make us breakfast in the morning.”

“M’kay,” You mumble, nuzzling his chest and kissing over his heart. “I love you.”

“I love you too, princess,” Bucky murmurs, kissing you again. “I love you too.”

You sleep better than you ever have, happier than ever knowing that no matter how hard things get, you have Bucky by your side, and that alone will make things easier.

-

main taglist: @lilyalone @crazyunsexycool @goldylions @yeehawbrothers @buckyssweetheart @buckysprettybaby @sushiseoks @heytheredelulu @somnorvos @ozwriterchick @pxgeturner @gentlelimerence

bucky taglist: @brookeleclerc @justsebstan @myfavbuckyfics

[scottiexmariee]

Sorry if this is a weird request, but I just need it so badly bc of the misty invasion card with Zayne. My request is how the LADs would act with an MC who is apart of the big tittie committee, if you know what I mean. And what their reaction would be to them wearing low necklines are crop tops and stuff. Thank you so much

Not weird at all. I gotchu <3

Big Titty Committee

Pairings: Xavier x Reader | Zayne x Reader | Rafayel x Reader | Sylus x Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Suggestive AF. Reader has massive knockers. No explicit smut, but it is heavily implied. Starving Zayne, flustered Rafayel.

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

☆ 100% using your honkers as a pillow

☆ Plops his lil head down on your tig ol bitties and hes out COLD

☆ 10/10 occasionally pretends to be tired just to lay his head down for the squish

Xavier would give just about anything to spend his free time with you in a tangle of limbs, laying wherever was cozy, basking in the perfect combination of warmth and comfort. He could conk out anywhere, but he definitely had his favorite spots. 

On the couch with you wrapped in his arms, back pressed snugly to his chest. 

His head in your lap, location unimportant. 

But his favorite?

Using your breasts as a pillow. The warmth?? The squish?? Heavenly. The feeling of resting his head on your deliciously plump chest was borderline euphoric. Sometimes, it was hard not to drool, the combination of your chest and the way your fingers ran through his hair nearly making his brain stop working every. single. time. 

He’d had a long day today, and he was very tired. His thoughts on the elevator ride to your floor consisted of one thing and one thing only: curling up with you and getting some much needed rest. 

When he entered your apartment with the key you’d given him, he was not expecting to see you in a nightgown that was so low-cut you’d likely flash him if you moved too quickly. He didn’t react outwardly, but it took him a moment to recover. 

You’d embraced him in a loving hug, blissfully unaware that your chest pressing against his was absolutely having more of an effect on him than usual, all thanks to the nightgown. He managed to play it cool, keeping up a facade of innocence, for now. 

Xavier was patient. Xavier was also sly enough to wait until the right moment.

The two of you had curled up in bed, ready to call it a night. Xavier had oh-so-casually rolled over and placed his head on your chest, nuzzling up to you and relishing in the feeling of warmth pressing against his cheek. As expected, the warmth went straight south. 

“Man,” He murmured, opening an eye to peek up at you. The teasing tone in his voice was very evident, matched by an almost imperceptible smile. “It’s a little chilly in here. I think I should be closer,”

You let out an amused huff of air. “How can you possibly get any closer?”

Xavier sat up, staring down at your nightgown. If it weren’t for the subtle glimmer of mischief in his eyes, he would have appeared completely serious.

“I’ve read that clothes dilute warmth,” He said, eyes flitting from your nightgown to your face, “I think…I’d like my pillow to be a bit warmer.”

That nightgown very quickly became one of your favorite bedtime choices.

❅ okay I’m gonna say it 

❅ You can’t tell me Zayne isn’t a breast guy

❅ ^^ the way he gets all greedy with your chest/neck in the Hidden Motive card?  HELLO??

❅ if you tease him with something low cut he’s going to TOWN on those babies the second he gets the chance 

❅ Face all cozy & warm and pressed up in there? WELCOME HOME DOCTOR ZAYNE

You didn’t know what you were in for when you’d chosen to accompany Zayne to an afterparty for an awards ceremony. You’d chosen a simple, classy cocktail dress that matched the color of his tie. You’d sent Zayne a picture of it on the hanger, and he’d cleared it, agreeing that the dress was nice. When the dress was on, you realized the neckline was a little lower than it looked on the hanger. Cleavage was unavoidable in certain styles, but the dress was still pretty, so you doubled down and wore it anyway.

Zayne accepted very quickly that it was going to be an excruciatingly long night the second he came to pick you up, his throat going uncomfortably dry as soon as you exited your apartment. You’d gotten into his car with a gorgeous smile, smelling ridiculously enticing, chest looking absolutely heavenly in that dress, completely unaware that Zayne was fighting for his life in the drivers’ seat. 

Zayne is a very disciplined man. You, however, had him battling to keep his eyes on the road for the duration of the drive–voice coming out slightly strained when he spoke and knuckles white from the intense grip on the steering wheel. It hadn’t even been 10 minutes.

Zayne’s focus was not all there at the party, either. He’d done his best to distract himself by mingling, but he received a harsh reality check every time he caught a glimpse of you in that dress that was making him feel downright sinful. The fact that you were blissfully unaware of his internal crisis almost made the entire situation worse. At one point, he even snuck off to the bathroom to splash cool water on his face, desperately trying to shock the indecent thoughts out of his system.

After three torturous hours of Zayne doing his best to look anywhere but your chest, the party was over. You’d thought his pace on the walk back to the car was a little quicker than usual, but you assumed he was just ready to be off of his feet for the night. 

Zayne’s struggle only heightened when the two of you had gotten back into the car, the close proximity resembling a match dangerously close to gasoline. His composure was hanging by a thread.

He made it back to his house. Barely.

Once the two of you were inside, the door had barely shut before he had you backed into the wall, lips already attacking your neck and chest, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses that left fire in their wake. The usually composed and stoic Doctor Zayne was no longer in the building.

“You don’t have to be so intense,” You murmured, although you really didn’t mind. 

He pulled back and looked at you, his eyes smoldering and nearly making you shudder. “How could I not be, when you look like that?” 

Zayne’s composure and restraint had finally snapped.

While Zayne continued his greedy mission on your neck and chest, silently cursing that dress for existing, you were already planning out the next time you would wear it. 

❀ absolutely a flustered, stuttering mess (at least until he gets used to it)

❀ fighting for his life to look anywhere else, simply for the sake of his sanity

It was ungodly hot in Linkon. It was peak summer, and the temperature had reached a high of 102 degrees(f). It was so hot that your apartment building couldn’t keep up with everyone using their cooling units at once, which had caused the worst case scenario: a power outage. Sometimes, not even technology as advanced as it was could keep up with a heat wave. You’d changed into the absolute bare minimum, a tank top and shorts, but it was still too much.

After only 45 minutes of sitting in a hot, dark apartment, a beautiful idea popped in your head: Rafayel. 

Not only was he right by the water, his studio almost definitely hadn’t lost power. After a quick phone call to make sure he was there, you headed there.

Rafayel had nearly fallen over when he opened the door to see you standing there. Your tank top left very little to imagination, and the cool air from his studio suddenly felt nonexistent on his rapidly heating skin. He nearly slammed the door in your face out of pure panic.

“W–you–get inside!” He all but dragged you in, rapidly searching for the nearest thing he could use to block your chest from his view. He was willing to rip a curtain off the rod if it meant he could breathe easier for a few seconds.

“Rafayel! What are you doing?” 

His saving grace was quickly located: A jacket he’d recently tossed on the back of a chair and forgotten about. He yanked it off and shoved it at you. “Put those away!” 

You scoffed. “Dude. It’s hot!” You swatted his hand away, the motion causing a tasteful jiggle in your chest. It had not gone unnoticed by Rafayel, who whipped his head away so quickly it almost looked like he’d gotten slapped. “It’s like 100 degrees out, I’m not putting on a jacket,”

Rafayel had found a spot on the wall to stare at, hoping his face and ears weren’t as pink as they felt. “You went outside like that? Are you trying to cause an accident?” 

“I–you seriously can’t handle a little bit of boob, Rafayel?” 

You were laughing now, but Rafayel was not. His cheeks were darker than you’d ever seen them, accompanied by a singular bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. The man was stressed.

No, Rafayel could not handle a little bit of boob. Not when they looked like that, anyway. Not when it was you attached to them, and not when they were that nice. It was simply unfair, in his mind. Rafayel was currently a man that was parched, and your chest was a very tempting, cool glass of water. 

He’d gained enough consciousness to turn the temperature way lower, doing everything he could to remember how to breathe until his studio cooled down enough that you put on the jacket. 

Slowly, his heart rate returned to normal, and his cheeks finally stopped burning for the first time since you’d arrived. You, on the other hand, were just thankful to be out of the heat. 

Not long after Rafayel had finally felt normal again, he cast a glance over his shoulder to see what you were doing. You were leaning against the windowsill, longingly looking out at the water. When you felt his gaze, you voiced your thoughts. 

“I brought a bathing suit. We should go swimming,” 

The tank top had been bad enough. But seeing you in a bikini? Too soon.

He shook his head vigorously, nearly tripping over the coffee table to come shut the curtains, desperately trying to block the ocean from your view so you could no longer be tempted.

“Can’t,” He said, his voice coming out raspy, “too many sharks today. Guess you’ll just have to stay in here with the jacket on,” 

You hung out until your power was restored. Thankfully, it had cooled down outside as well. Rafayel nearly collapsed from relief when you finally left. 

Unfortunately for him, he would never be able to get that image out of his head.

⟡ This man worships every inch of you as is, so he’d be more than happy to have a lil extra to appreciate

⟡ 100% getting custom clothing tailored to accentuate//flatter your figure, even if it’s just for him to look at

⟡ Shamelessly checks you out no matter what you’re wearing, but it’s 100x worse if you have some tasteful cleavage goin’ on

Sylus didn’t even attempt to hide where he was looking during dinner tonight. The man was shameless, and you both knew it. In fact, he was making it a point to make sure you knew where he was looking, too. A not-so-subtle warning on what was to come. He knew how to appreciate what was right in front of him, and he did so with a smug smirk on his face as he listened to you talk about anything but the obvious. 

How could he not look? You were already a threat to his ability to keep his hands to himself on a good day, but the dress you were currently wearing was pushing his limits. It was cruel, like dangling a steak in front of a starving dog. That dog is definitely lunging for the steak.

With a slow, casual sip of his wine, his eyes finally found your face long enough for him to ask a question. “Are you enjoying yourself, sweetie?” 

You shrugged, the motion absolutely causing a noticeable jiggle. “Yeah, dinner is nice. We should come here again.”

His eyes flitted back down, eyeing the deep neckline of your dress. “That’s not what I meant, kitten,”

You knew exactly what he meant. You were the biggest tease in the entire solar system at this very moment, intentionally picking a dress that had your titties looking like they were sculpted by the Gods. ‘Casual’ dinner date? As if. ‘Tempting Sylus’ should have been your title at this point. 

“I seem to remember you were the one that ordered this dress,” You responded, doing everything in your power not to smirk. He had, in fact, been the one to pick out that dress. However, he had seriously underestimated how good your boobs would look in it. He was currently paying the price for that.  

Sylus looked back to your face, seriously considering ripping the dress off of you and burning it after he was done…with other things, bystanders be damned. That dress was nothing more than a distraction, and he couldn’t have distractions. 

“Is that so?” He drawled, leaning back in his chair. He took another quick glance down, then took another sip of his wine in an attempt to ease the increasing dryness in his throat. 

After a moment, he leaned forward with a devilish grin, looking you straight in the eyes. 

“Since I’m the one that ordered it for you,” He began, his voice a sultry purr, “does that mean I also have the pleasure of taking it off?”

[pedroscowgirl]

unexpected encounter

aaron hotchner x fem bau!reader

Warnings: smut! minors dni! p in v (wrap it up), creampie, power dynamics (he's your boss), teasing ? lmk if i forgot something (i prob did)

summary: You were off duty, enjoying a sunny afternoon in a tight, bodycon sundress that accentuated your curves, when you unexpectedly ran into your boss, Aaron Hotchner.

masterlist

a/n: i know it's fall but i just couldn't get this idea out of my head so here you go <3

(also it's 3 am rn and ill post my hugh story tomorrow for those who were waiting on it cuz now its getting a lil late)

The evening sun casts a warm glow as you step out of the café, its fading rays highlighting your sundress, a snug, bodycon fit that clings to your curves. It’s a casual weekend, far removed from the usual dark suits and crime scenes, and you feel a certain freedom in wearing something that shows off your figure. The dress is vibrant, hugging your waist and hips, and the neckline dips just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage, nothing too provocative, but more than enough to draw attention.

You’re not expecting to run into anyone from the BAU, especially not your boss, SSA Aaron Hotchner. But as fate would have it, there he is, standing near his car across the street, his gaze locking onto you as if he’s frozen in place.

You pause, surprised at seeing him, and the moment stretches out longer than you expect. Hotch, the ever-composed leader, is staring. Not just a glance, but a full-on, wide-eyed stare. His usual mask of professionalism cracks slightly as his eyes trace the lines of your dress, lingering briefly on the exposed skin at your neckline before snapping back to your face.

"Hotch?" you say, your voice light with disbelief, trying to break the tension. "I didn’t expect to see you here."

He clears his throat, his expression quickly shifting into something more familiar stoic, controlled. But there’s no mistaking the way his eyes flicker back to you, like he’s struggling to keep his gaze in check.

“I could say the same,” he replies, his voice a little more hoarse than usual. "I didn’t mean to stare."

You chuckle, trying to ease the tension. “It’s alright, I’m off-duty, you’re allowed to stare.” You give him a teasing smile, knowing full well how rare it is to see this side of him.

Hotch seems to struggle with how to respond, his usual sharpness dulled for a moment. He’s not used to seeing you like this, out of your professional attire, out of the controlled environment of the BAU. He’s not used to seeing you as…anything other than an agent.

“I... uh… you look nice,” he finally says, and you swear you catch a glimpse of something like admiration in his voice, something he’s clearly trying to suppress.

You smile again, feeling a bit of warmth rise to your cheeks. “Thank you, Hotch.”

For a moment, it’s just the two of you standing there, the sounds of the city buzzing around you. It’s strange, he’s your boss, after all. But here, outside the confines of the BAU, things feel different. There’s no case, no profile, no killer to chase. Just Aaron Hotchner, looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Well,” he says after a pause, breaking the silence, “I should… get going.”

“Yeah,” you nod, not wanting the moment to end. “I’ll see you Monday.”

But as you turn to leave, you can feel his eyes on you for just a second longer than necessary, like he’s not quite ready to break the spell.

And neither are you.

Monday rolls around, and you’re back at the BAU, your professional self once again. You’re dressed in your usual work attire, nothing flashy, just your go-to blazer and slacks. But something feels off. Specifically, Hotch feels off.

You notice it almost immediately during the morning briefing. Normally, Hotch commands the room with his calm authority, making eye contact with every agent to ensure they’re on the same page. But today, he’s avoiding your gaze. Subtly, of course, but after working together for so long, you can tell. When he speaks, his voice is as firm as always, but there’s something different, an edge, a tension that wasn’t there before.

He keeps the briefing short, his eyes barely lingering on you as he assigns the team to tasks for the case. The second it’s over, he quickly retreats to his office, leaving the rest of the team exchanging confused glances.

“What’s with him?” you whisper to JJ, leaning in as everyone gathers their files.

JJ shrugs. “I have no idea. He’s been quiet all morning.”

Emily slides in next to you, overhearing the conversation. “Did you do something to piss him off?” she teases, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

You roll your eyes but feel your stomach flip, wondering if you should tell them what happened over the weekend. You and Hotch didn’t do anything wrong, but there was definitely a moment. One you haven’t been able to stop thinking about either.

“I didn’t… exactly piss him off,” you say, your voice lowering. JJ and Emily exchange glances, their interest piqued.

“Spill,” Emily demands, her tone playful but insistent.

You sigh, looking around to make sure no one else is within earshot. “I saw Hotch over the weekend. Outside of work. I was, uh, wearing a dress.”

JJ raises her brows. “Okay…?”

“A bodycon sundress,” you clarify, feeling your cheeks heat up. “And it was… well, more revealing than what I normally wear around here.”

Emily leans back, clearly enjoying this. “So, you’re telling me Hotch saw you looking all hot and couldn’t handle it?”

You shrug, a small smile creeping onto your face. “I don’t know about that, but he definitely stared. I mean, he was stunned. He couldn’t even look away for a minute.”

JJ’s eyes widen in amusement. “No way. The Aaron Hotchner showed an expression on his face?”

“Exactly!” you say, laughing now that you’re sharing it with them. “I didn’t think much of it, but today? He’s been acting weird. It’s like he can’t even look at me.”

Emily grins. “You broke Hotch’s brain. Well done.”

JJ chuckles softly. “He’s probably just not used to seeing you like that, out of work mode. It might’ve caught him off guard.”

“Off guard is an understatement,” you murmur, thinking back to how he couldn’t tear his eyes away. “But it’s not like anything happened. It was just… a moment.”

“A moment that Hotch clearly can’t stop thinking about,” Emily adds. “You’ve thrown him off his game, and honestly? I love it.”

JJ gives you a more reassuring smile. “I’m sure he’ll get over it. It’s Hotch. He’s probably just trying to re-center himself. Maybe he’s worried about crossing any lines.”

You nod, but part of you wonders if there’s more to it. The way he looked at you—it wasn’t just surprise. There was something deeper, something he clearly didn’t know how to handle.

“Well,” Emily says, grabbing her tablet, “this should be fun to watch. Let’s see how long it takes for him to figure out how to act normal around you again.”

You laugh, but internally, you feel that same curiosity rising. What was Hotch thinking when he saw you? And why does it feel like it’s affected him this much?

The rest of the day drags on, but you can’t shake the tension between you and Hotch. Every time you walk by his office or catch a glimpse of him from across the bullpen, there’s this undercurrent, something simmering beneath the surface. You try to focus on the case, to act as if nothing happened, but it’s impossible to ignore the way his presence feels so much heavier today.

By mid-afternoon, you’ve had enough. You need clarity, or at least to know that this awkwardness isn’t all in your head. So, when you notice Hotch heading for the break room, you seize the opportunity.

You walk in just after him, the door swinging shut softly behind you. He’s standing by the coffee machine, his back to you, shoulders a little more tense than usual. You take a breath before speaking.

“Hotch?”

He turns slowly, his eyes meeting yours, and for a second, there’s that flash of something, surprise, maybe even desire, before he quickly masks it with his usual professionalism.

“Agent” he says, the formality of your title jarring. His voice is cool, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s holding something back.

You step closer, trying to keep your tone casual. “I’ve noticed you’ve been… distant today.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow, but there’s a tightness in his jaw. “I’ve been focused on the case. Nothing more.”

You cross your arms, feeling a mix of frustration and something more personal. “Really? Because it feels like you’re avoiding me.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looks away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before his eyes return to yours. “I’m not avoiding you. I just—” He pauses, his expression faltering for the briefest moment. “I want to maintain professionalism, that’s all.”

You blink, caught off guard by the admission. “Is this about Saturday?”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, confirmation, maybe. He looks almost uncomfortable now, like he’s been caught in something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I didn’t expect to see you outside of work,” he says carefully, his voice a little quieter. “And… I wasn’t prepared for how you looked.”

You feel a warmth rising in your chest, knowing now that you weren’t imagining things. “It was just a dress, Hotch.”

He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, his hands resting on the counter behind him as if he needs the support. “It wasn’t just the dress. It was…” He hesitates again, as if he’s struggling with how much to admit. “It was seeing you outside of this job. Seeing you as… more than just my agent.”

Your breath catches slightly at his words. More than just an agent? You hadn’t expected him to be this honest, to admit that there was something more to his reaction.

“And that bothers you?” you ask, your voice softer now.

“It complicates things,” he says, his gaze finally softening. “We work together. I’m your superior. I have to maintain a level of professionalism, not just for me, but for you, too.”

You step a little closer, feeling a pull between the two of you that you can’t quite explain. “But it’s not just about professionalism, is it?”

Hotch’s eyes search yours, and for the first time, you see the conflict written all over his face. “No, it’s not,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The air feels thick with everything unspoken, everything hovering just beneath the surface. You can feel the distance between you narrowing, both physically and emotionally, and it’s like a magnet pulling you closer.

“I don’t want this to affect our work,” he finally says, breaking the silence. But the way he’s looking at you now, his eyes soft, his expression vulnerable, makes you wonder if he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

“It won’t,” you assure him, your voice steady. “We’re both professionals. But we’re also human.”

Hotch exhales softly, his posture relaxing ever so slightly, like the weight of his inner struggle is easing. He still looks conflicted, but there’s a shift in his demeanor, a sense that maybe he’s not entirely ready to let this go, either.

Before either of you can say anything more, the door to the break room opens, and you both immediately step back into your professional roles as JJ walks in, oblivious to the charged moment she’s interrupted.

“Hey,” she says casually, reaching for the coffee pot. “You guys okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply quickly, exchanging a brief glance with Hotch. “We’re fine.”

JJ looks between the two of you but doesn’t press further. “Good, because we’ve got a new lead on the case. Hotch, we need you in the conference room.”

Hotch gives you one last look before nodding to JJ. “I’ll be right there.”

It’s a warm, sunny afternoon when you arrive at the park for a team’s casual get-together, organized by Garcia, who insisted everyone needed some downtime outside the walls of the BAU. Laughter and conversation fill the air as the team relaxes, scattered across picnic tables and blankets.

You’re wearing that sundress again, the one that hugs your curves, the one that made Hotch’s breath catch in his throat the last time he saw you. It’s a bodycon dress that highlights your figure, with just enough of a neckline to show off a hint of cleavage, and when you walk up to the group, you immediately feel his eyes on you.

Aaron stands across the grassy clearing, wearing a simple polo and jeans that fit him perfectly. The dark material contrasts with the sunlit background, casting shadows across the strong lines of his jaw and the slope of his neck. He’s looking at you, his expression intense, his thoughts seemingly far away.

He’s quiet—Hotch always is during these gatherings—but you know what’s on his mind. It’s the same thing that’s been lingering between the two of you for days, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved tension. His eyes flicker from your face to your body, lingering on the dress, and you can see his jaw tighten. The rest of the team is laughing, eating, and enjoying the afternoon, oblivious to the tension that’s simmering just beneath the surface.

As you settle down near the picnic table, chatting with JJ and Emily, you can feel Hotch’s gaze like a physical touch. He tries to be subtle, to act like nothing is out of the ordinary, but you catch him glancing at you again and again. Each time, his eyes darken with desire, his body language betraying the thoughts racing through his mind.

You shift slightly, adjusting the hem of your dress, and you can almost feel the way his focus sharpens. Every movement you make seems to affect him, his grip tightening around his coffee cup, his posture stiffening ever so slightly. He’s trying to keep it together, trying to maintain that professional composure, but you can see him slipping.

From across the table, Garcia rambles about some new tech gadget she’s discovered, and Reid chimes in with his usual barrage of facts. But your mind is on Hotch, and the way his gaze hasn’t left you for more than a few seconds. You glance up, meeting his eyes from across the distance, and the heat between you is undeniable.

He looks away quickly, but you catch the way his fingers clench slightly into a fist before he releases them, exhaling as if to steady himself. You bite your lip, feeling a surge of confidence as you decide to tease him, leaning forward a little more as you laugh at something Emily says. You know exactly what you’re doing.

Hotch’s eyes flash again, and for a moment, you think he’s going to snap. His hand flexes against his thigh, and his gaze grows even darker, filled with barely-contained need. He wants to touch you, he needs to, you can see it in the way he shifts in his seat, the tension rolling off him in waves. But he can’t. Not here. Not in front of the team.

The rest of the group is oblivious to the magnetic pull between you two, but you know. And Hotch knows. His restraint is fraying at the edges, his focus divided between trying to keep up the pretense of professionalism and the urge to take you somewhere more private.

You catch his eye again, holding his gaze just a moment longer than before, and you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch, the smallest hint of a smile, or maybe something more primal. His control is slipping, and he’s fighting it with everything he has.

As the afternoon stretches on, the laughter and casual conversation continue, but all you can think about is what’s going to happen when this gathering ends. When it’s just the two of you. When he doesn’t have to hold back anymore.

And by the way Hotch keeps looking at you, his thoughts following every move you make, you know it’s only a matter of time.

As you pack up your things, you notice him lingering by his car, his eyes still on you, and your heart skips a beat when he makes his way over to you.

"Need a ride home?" he asks, his voice smooth but heavy with something more.

You nod, sensing that this is the moment you’ve both been waiting for. There’s an undercurrent in his words, a promise of something more than just a simple ride.

The drive to your place is thick with tension, the kind that makes the air feel heavier, charged with anticipation. Neither of you speaks much. There’s no need to, everything has already been said in the heated looks exchanged back at the picnic, in the way his hand brushed your lower back for just a second too long as he led you to his car. It’s there in the way he’s gripping the steering wheel now, his knuckles white as he tries to keep control, though you can tell that his thoughts are anything but steady.

You glance at him from the passenger seat, noticing the way his jaw is clenched, the tendons in his neck tight as he stares at the road. His usual cool, collected demeanor is crumbling, and you know exactly what’s on his mind. You in that dress. The way he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since he saw you at the park. The way you’ve been teasing him all afternoon, letting your fingers linger on his arm when you spoke, leaning just a bit closer to him than usual.

It’s like a silent game between the two of you—one that’s about to reach its breaking point.

The second the car pulls into your driveway, you can feel his restraint finally snap. The engine is barely off before Hotch is out of the car, quickly making his way around to your side. He opens the door for you, but as you step out, you can see the way his eyes are filled with a hunger that’s only grown stronger throughout the day. His hand is on your lower back again, guiding you up the steps to your door, but this time, his touch lingers. You can feel the heat of his hand through the thin fabric of your dress, and it sends a thrill through you.

You unlock the door with trembling fingers, your heart racing, knowing what’s about to happen. You step inside, and the second the door closes behind him, it’s like a dam breaks.

Hotch’s hands are on you before you even have time to turn around. His fingers curl around your waist, pulling you back against him as his mouth finds your neck. His lips are hot and urgent against your skin, and you can feel the rough stubble of his jaw scraping lightly as he kisses along the curve of your throat. His breath is ragged, and you can feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he growls against your ear, his voice low and rough, filled with barely-contained need. His hands slide up your sides, his fingers tracing the outline of your dress, and the way he’s touching you, like he can’t get enough, makes your body heat up instantly. “Ever since I saw you in that damn dress…”

You gasp as his hands tighten on your waist, pulling you even closer, his hips pressing against you in a way that leaves no doubt about how badly he wants you. His mouth moves along your neck, hot and insistent, as his fingers slip beneath the fabric of your dress, hiking it up slightly so he can grip your bare skin.

“Aaron…” you breathe, your voice catching as you tilt your head to give him more access. Your body is already reacting to his touch, your pulse quickening, heat pooling in your belly. You want him just as badly, have been wanting him since the moment he first laid eyes on you in this dress.

You barely make it to the kitchen before Hotch lifts you up, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he sets you on the counter with ease. The cool surface contrasts with the heat of his body pressing against you, and you gasp at the sensation. His hands are everywhere now, on your thighs, sliding up to your hips, then gripping your waist as he pulls you even closer to the edge of the counter.

He kisses you hard, his lips crashing against yours with a need that makes your head spin. It’s a kiss filled with everything he’s been holding back, all the tension from the past week finally spilling over. You kiss him back just as desperately, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as his hands continue to explore your body.

His fingers slide under the hem of your dress, hiking it up higher as his hands trace the curve of your thighs. The way he’s touching you is possessive, almost frantic, like he can’t get close enough. He breaks the kiss for just a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. His hands slide up your sides, brushing over the neckline of your dress. “This dress… you have no idea what it does to me.”

You bite your lip, your heart racing as you look into his eyes, dark with need. “I wore it for you,” you admit softly, your voice breathless. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it.”

Hotch groans softly "fuck you're such a slut for me" his hands tightening on your waist as he kisses you again, slower this time, but no less intense. "fuck yes aaron I am" you replied and his hands roam over your body, slipping beneath the fabric of your dress to touch your bare skin. You arch into his touch, your body responding to him in a way that makes it impossible to think about anything else.

One of your straps slips from your shoulder, and in an instant, Hotch freezes. His breath catches as he pulls back slightly, his eyes fixed on your exposed skin. The strap falls, and your breast is revealed to him. For a moment, he just stares, his eyes darkening even more as he takes you in.

“God…” he breathes, his voice barely a whisper. His hands move to your shoulders, gently pushing the strap further down until your dress is hanging loosely off one side. His eyes flicker up to yours, filled with a mix of awe and raw desire. “You’re so beautiful.”

He leans down, his lips brushing softly over your exposed skin, kissing along the curve of your breast with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch. But the tenderness doesn’t last long, soon, his kisses grow more urgent, more desperate, as his hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin.

You moan softly, your head falling back as his mouth finds your nipple, his tongue swirling around it before he sucks gently, sending a surge of heat straight to your core. His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter as he continues his assault on your senses, his lips and hands everywhere at once.

“I can’t… stop,” he groans against your skin, his voice rough and filled with desire. “I’ve wanted this for so long…”

His hands slide down to your hips, gripping you tightly as he pulls you against him, his erection pressing firmly between your legs. You gasp at the sensation, your hands gripping his shoulders as he moves against you, his breath hot and ragged in your ear.

“I need you,” he murmurs, his voice low and desperate. “Right now.”

You nod, breathless, as you pull him closer, your legs wrapping around his waist as he lifts you slightly off the counter. His hands slide under your dress, pulling it up higher as he presses himself against you and takes off your underwear, his lips find yours in a heated kiss that leaves you both gasping for air.

When he finally enters you, it’s like everything else fades away. The world outside, the past week of stolen glances and restrained touches, it all falls away as he moves inside you. His pace is slow at first, savoring the way you feel wrapped around him, his lips brushing over your skin with every thrust.

You arch against him, your hands gripping his back as he moves faster, his control slipping as the need between you builds. His mouth is on your neck, your shoulder, your breasts everywhere, as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

The strap of your dress falls completely now, both your breasts exposed to him, and Hotch loses it. His hands cup your breasts again, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he thrusts harder, deeper, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“You’re perfect,” he groans, his voice filled with awe and desire. “Everything about you… I can’t get enough.”

You moan his name, your body trembling as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. The way he moves inside you, the way he touches you, it’s all too much. You feel the tension coiling in your belly, ready to snap at any moment.

And then, with one final thrust, you’re falling. You cry out, your body arching against him as pleasure crashes over you in waves. Hotch follows seconds later, groaning your name as he shudders, his body tensing as he finds his release.

For a moment, neither of you moves, your bodies still connected, your breaths mingling as you come down from the high of it all. Then, slowly, Hotch pulls back slightly, his hands still holding you close as he looks into your eyes, his expression softer now, filled with something more than just desire.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice full of awe as he brushes a stray hair from your face. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to keep my hands off you after this.”

You smile, breathless, as you lean in to kiss him again, slow and deep, savoring the moment. “Then don’t,” you whisper against his lips, and the way he kisses you in return tells you that he has no intention of letting go anytime soon.

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added): @looking1016 @pear-1206 @doe-eyed-diva @ssa-aaronhotchner @sweetpinkchampagne @totallyjovialblaze @pastelpinkflowerlife @donttrustlove @actualdeemon @jencole214 @fandomawesomeness @devilslittlehelper

[champagnefountains]

LUCIFER MAGNE – H.H

CHAPTER III (Finale) - Prompt: Lucifer continuing to wear his wedding ring despite being in a relationship with you.

Previous chapters: I [x], II [x] Word count: 2.6k+ words (unedited) Genre/other tags: Angst with comfort. Good ending. Jealousy. Warnings: Cursing (of course). Gets a little bit heated towards the end, but nothing too explicit. Alastor being an asshole.

Much to your surprise, you found yourself enjoying Alastor’s company. When he wasn’t being the maddening person that he can be, he was actually quite pleasant to be around. After grabbing the items that Charlie had requested (which had all been teleported back to the hotel), Alastor convinced you to have a leisurely stroll around the outskirts of town. There, he introduced you to the many places he frequented, from the small, homey cafe he would always go to, to even the butchers where he purchases his premium meats. All the while, you tried to ignore the looks that you got from the surrounding residents – a mixture of fear and distaste were sent towards the radio-demon, whilst others stared at you in question, wondering who you may be and what you were doing with the Overlord. 

Even though you weren’t in the mood to chat, Alastor was more than happy to fill in the silence, sharing a couple stories and cracking corny jokes here and there, which you had to admit were pretty funny. After an exhausting week, it made you realise how nice it was to actually smile and laugh again.

After a couple hours, you both made your way back to the hotel. All the while, Alastor had been recounting a narrative from his times in the living world which had taken a particularly hilarious turn, causing you both to chuckle aloud. You wiped the amused tear that escaped your eye as Alastor pushed through the front doors of the establishment. 

“Oh, fuck no!” A familiar voice shouted from the distance, startling and causing you to flinch on the spot. Swiftly turning your head to the source of the ruckus, you were dumbfounded to see Lucifer himself, stomping his way towards your direction with a vexed expression. Behind him, you saw a distressed Charlie staggering towards him as Vaggie followed suit.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you asshole!?” Lucifer growled, getting up close and personal with Alastor, whilst poking an accusatory finger against his chest. Before you could’ve reacted, you were then pulled back by the deer-demon, who draped an arm around your shoulders.

“Now, now, why the sudden hostility? I was only taking my darling [Name] out for a much needed breath of fresh air!” Alastor chimes, feigning innocence and batting his lashes. “I took it upon myself to look after her wellbeing. We’ve all been so worried since she’s just been so, so dispirited and blue lately…and I’m sure you know why that is, your highness.” The backhanded comment caused you to swiftly peer up at the Overlord, baffled by the harshness of his remark. But as you observe his ever-growing grin, it only then struck you, the sole purpose behind his kind display towards you. 

Meanwhile, it had Lucifer fuming. Literally. “Why you little, piece of shit–” The King then grabbed Alastor by his dress-shirt, the fabric scorching under his touch, “who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me like that?” Seeing the growing tension between the two men, Charlie immediately stepped forward. “Dad, stop it,” she sternly said, grabbing his wrist in warning. Lucifer was quick to shake the girl’s hand off, tightening his grip on Alastor’s shirt, “No, Charlie, I need to put this pompous asshole back in his place! It seems he doesn’t know basic courtesy, and how to keep out of other people’s business.”

Alastor chortles mockingly in response. “Oh, hoh? You speak of courtesy? I believe you should take your own advice, your highness, as you seem to lack consideration to those around you,” he pushed even further, all the while peering down at you from the corner of his eyes. Lucifer follows his line of sight, his eyes landing on the troubled expression etched on your face. His gaze softened for a brief moment, before hardening once more as he fixed his attention back to the Overlord.

“You better shut that damn trap of yours if you know what’s good for you,” Lucifer warns deeply. “Now, I’m merely sticking up for a dear pal of mine. So tell me, what exactly is so wrong about that?” Alastor shoots back, harshly flicking the man’s hand away. Tutting, he patted down his now-tattered suit, an eye twitching in mild annoyance. 

“It is when you decide to overstep boundaries.” With a blink of an eye, Lucifer’s scleras suddenly switched over to a red hue, sending you into sudden caution. Alastor’s grin turned almost sinister at the challenging tone. “Perhaps it’s necessary to do so. After all, dear [Name] over here had a pleasant time. There was no harm done.”

The King gritted his teeth, his horns threatening to reveal themselves, “Oh, but that’s what you think. ‘Cause someone will be harmed if you decide to keep this shit up–”

“Lucifer, stop.” Almost instantaneously, the King’s fumes were extinguished as he turned his gaze towards you. He felt shame fill him to the core at the sight of your disappointed expression, glaring at him in disapproval. Baffled, he opened his mouth to speak, “[Name], I–” 

“Don’t,” you sternly intervene, raising a hand to silence him. You then send a critical glance back at Alastor, forcibly pushing his arm off of you, “And you. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking of, pulling a stunt like this and using my vulnerability for your sick entertainment, but I expect you to apologise to Charlie and everyone else here for causing all this ruckus.” You ignored the way the radio-demon’s eyes rolled as you pushed through, stepping forward to grab Lucifer by the wrist, before dragging him along towards the staircase leading to your rooms. In doing so, you offer an apologetic look to your friends as you pass by the bar, who nodded back in silent understanding and awe.

The walk towards your shared room was painfully silent as the both of you dreaded the upcoming confrontation. As the number of your shared room came into view, you let go of Lucifer to wordlessly invite yourself inside. The King followed suit with hesitant steps, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Rubbing his arms self-consciously, his downcast eyes trailed up to you. You had plopped yourself down on the furthest side of the bed across the room, your back facing towards him and posture slumped over. Lucifer let out a shaky breath. 

“...[Name], darling. I’m sorry,” he starts softly, nervously squeezing his hands into fists, “I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin. It was–It was childish of me. I didn’t mean to upset you–“

“Y’know, you’ve got some nerve acting the way you did…” you suddenly cut in, voice surprisingly faint but filled with melancholy, “...acting all resentful and jealous towards Alastor–who mind you, was actually just taking me out for a walk–when you yourself still seem to be preoccupied with your ex.” Lucifer grimaced at the venom laced in your tone. Ouch. Though it was deserving, he dejectedly thinks to himself. 

“[Name], please, I-I can explain everything. I didn’t mean for tonight to go the way it did,” Lucifer pleaded whilst staring at the back of your head. He didn’t know whether his sincerity was effectively making its way through to you.

“Then what were you planning?” You say sharply, your voice raising a bit, “I…Lucifer, just please tell me what’s going on. Just tell me the truth.” Your eyes started to blur as a sob threatened to escape your throat. “Because I’m tired of this. I-I’m so tired of feeling so insecure, confused and lost, and I...I-I don’t even know what you want from me anymore.” You hang your head down low, hugging yourself tightly as the tears begin to pour out uncontrollably, “If…if you’re planning on breaking up with me, just go ahead and say it! I-I don't want to be waddling 'round like some–some idiot, waiting for you to–”

“No. Wha–[Name], no. Don’t even go there.” Lucifer said incredulously, immediately marching towards your side of the bed. He kneels down in front of you, reaching out to grab at your shaking hands. “That’s not why I’m here, okay? It’s not even remotely close to what I have to say. So please get that idea out of your head,” he reaffirms, while rubbing his thumbs against your hands in a reassuring manner. You decided to keep your gaze down, having no strength to look Lucifer in the eye, knowing fully well that you’d break even more if you were to do so. Your tiny gasps and hiccups were what filled the room, tearing the King’s heart bit by bit, with every second that passed. With no words spoken on your behalf, Lucifer took this as a cue to continue. 

“[Name]…I’m sorry for upsetting you. That’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. I-I know I’ve got a lot of baggage, and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for making you carry that burden with me. I…I did a lot of thinking during our time apart, and it made me realise how much of a fool I was–of how blind I was to what was in front of me. I took for granted your love and kindness. I-It wasn’t fair to you, and you didn’t deserve that. I-I truly didn't know what I was thinking, continuing to wear that ring. I came to terms and knew deep down for so long, even before we got together, that there wasn’t a possibility that Lilith and I would ever get together again. And yes, I do love Lilith. She’s been with me since the beginning of time and for most of eternity, and is the mother of my only child. Perhaps it was the memories that we shared that kept me hanging on for so long, I thought. She didn’t do anything wrong by me either…we just…sort of grew apart after a while. I-I don’t know why, but regardless…it hurt a lot. And even despite her absence now, I still do love her.” 

At that, you felt your heart drop to your stomach. His words were like a harsh punch to the gut. It was nauseating, and the room felt like it was caving in on you. Devastated, you attempted to pull yourself away to leave the room, but was forced to still as Lucifer reached up to cup a hand over your dampened cheek. He gently tugs your face upward, his eyes softening and staring deep into your crestfallen, reddened ones. 

“But darling, it’s not the same anymore. It’s different now. And it’s because you changed that. Yes, Lilith will continue to be an important person in my life, there’s no doubt about it. But…it’s you, darling. I choose you. You mended and opened up my heart when I was a hundred-percent certain that I couldn’t for another soul again. Each second and moment I spent with you made me become so hopeful and excited for the future and whatever lies ahead of us. Alongside Charlie, you've made me the happiest I’ve ever been in so, so long. And it’s you who fortunately gave me a second chance in this life. I'm so grateful for you, and words can’t even express how much you mean to me. A-And I’m sorry it took a while for me to realise that, and for hurting you in the process.” Eyes closing, he leans in to press his forehead against yours.

“And yes, it might take a bit more time to put this all behind me, and I-I apologise. But…I’m finally ready to take that leap with you. My heart is yours for the taking–as long as you’ll have me, that is. And I-I don’t expect you to forgive me now–I wouldn’t even forgive myself either. But, if it’s space that you want and need, I’ll respect that. But just know that I love you. And I’m sorry if I made it seem that I don’t, or don’t  show it enough. But believe me…I love you. I love you so damn much.” 

The sincere confession left you speechless, feeling yourself practically melt into his hands like pudding. A sensation akin to relief crashed over you like a wave, finally hearing the words that you longed for, for over a week. With a broken sigh, you cupped a hand over his own, leaning in to bask in his touch. Your breath then hitched at the realisation that he had taken off his wedding ring, no longer feeling the cold metal against your skin – it was only his warmth alone that welcomed you. Your chest suddenly felt immensely full, overwhelmed by his love and affection, but also by the guilt that came for your previous words and actions that night. Your furrowed your brows, your tears clouding your vision once more,  “Luci, I…I’m so sorry. I-I’m sorry for pushing you too much. I was being too selfish a-and I didn’t even stop to think about how you felt. I-I should’ve been more understanding and–” 

Lucifer was quick to hush you, wiping your tears and shaking his head. “Darling, no. There’s no need for you to apologise, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one in the wrong. And if anything, I needed that push.” He then leans in to press a lingering smooch on your forehead, “But I truly mean it when I say it, though. I do really love you. Being without you these past few days drove me insane–it’s crazy how much of an effect you have on me.” He tearfully chuckles. 

A smile made its way up to your quivering lips, a blush dusting your cheeks from the sweet remark, “I love you too, Luci.”  

Despite the wide grin that erupted on his face, it was humbled down by a tentative guise. “...Are we going to be okay?” He quietly asks, his eyes peering up at you in a hopeful manner. Your eyes softened at his uncertainty. Sniffling, you reach out and pull him into a hug, your face huddled into the crook of his neck. Lucifer was quick to return the gesture, holding you close and breathing in your comforting scent. Mumbling a response into his neck, you say something incomprehensible, causing the man to chuckle softly into your hair. “Come on. Use your words, love,” he teased against your ear. You giggled, all the while nodding your head, “Y-Yeah…we’ll be okay.” 

At that, Lucifer gently slowly pulled away, before leaning in to close the distance between you, pressing his lips against yours. The King inhaled your whimpers as the kiss grew increasingly sensual and near-desperate, his hands beginning to wander down your waist. Lucifer then stood up from the ground, your lips remaining connected as he pushed you flat against the bed. Straddling your hips between his legs, his lips began to trail down your neck, biting and pecking at your feverish skin, all the while dragging his hands up your sides to pin your hands beside either side of your head. "Luci, please," you whined, feeling his sharp teeth graze above your pulse. He slowly made his way back up to meet you once more, pushing his tongue inside your mouth.

Eventually, the both of you unwillingly parted for air, foreheads pressed together as you both took a brief moment to catch your breath. You both stared at each other lovingly, basking in each others' presence. “You’re perfect for me, my angel,” Lucifer whispers, softly pecking both your cheeks, your nose, then at your lips, “never forget that.” 

It was clear that the both of you had some work to do, there was no question about that. He wasn’t as perfect as he made out to be, but neither were you. But since you have each other’s company, and with your newfound reconnection, you both knew that things will eventually turn out okay. 

A/N: And that brings us to the very end! Thank you for reading and all the support you've shown for this mini-series! I'll now be focusing on requests~

[pearlzier]

────⠀ ⠀SKATER.ᐟMATT × RICH.ᐟREADER

RICH.ᐟREADER ,, cheetah print. takes no shit. expensive taste. silver jewelry. fur, fur, fur. lip gloss. megan thee stallion coded. always got a sassy comment. knows all the drama. still sheltered despite everything. bad bitch.

SKATER.ᐟMATT ,, beanies. backwards caps. baggy everything. cuts and bruises from skating. never not wearing rings. scratches your initials on the back of one of his boards. dominic fike coded. snarky & sarcastic.

NOTES ,, thank u to bae @lovesickgrlsrh0t for planting these brainworms in my head i fear these two are my literal faves atm </3 also the triplets hit 7m n im so proud of them 😞💓 MDNI thank u

YOU'D KNOWN OF MATT BECAUSE OF A MUTUAL FRIEND. the friend was someone you'd gotten to know at a party, not exactly in your crowd, but the party was one with various people who dabbled in various things. you liked the friend, yeah, and they talked about a friend of theirs called matt, often. a skater, like.. one of those types to get caught trespassing on private property whilst hanging out, or something. not the type to attend nice galas and drink the finest wines in fancy ass outfits.

so you hadn't really cared about him, no. he was just a guy you knew of. and to matt, you were just some stuck-up socialite who he'd happened to go to school with since kindergarten. he didn't hate you, no, but like.. he wasn't exactly fond of you. he wasn't into the whole high life you associated yourself with. so it was obvious: the two of you were total opposites and wouldn't interact ever. especially since it was senior year, why would you in the first place?

turns out, it was actually quite simple. you'd been skipping class, as per usual, but had gotten caught this time. matt hadn't completed his coursework. now? detention, for the both of you. you'd most definitely considered skipping detention, since you had other engagements to attend, but you knew your parents wouldn't let you attend any other engagments for the rest of your senior year if you did. you're very clearly upset about detention, a pout adorning your glossy lips, your eyes fluttering around with not an ounce of enthusiasm.

it was just you and matt, you quickly realise. you stare at him for a minute, eyes narrowing. this catches his attention, and he cocks a brow as he glances up at you, "you get detention for havin' a starin' problem or what?" he's blunt, almost dead pan, rolling his eyes at the sight of you just.. staring at him. this makes your brow furrow, "that ain't no way to treat someone you've never talked to before, is it? jeez." you scoff under your breath, folding your arms over your chest. not wanting to act all petulant infront of the.. barely even a teacher, it's some substitute.

matt's quiet as he watches you sit down, the way you sit a far bit away as if being next to him will degrade the expensive material of your outfit. a scoff escapes him, in a similar fashion to your own, and he shakes his head, glancing away. you have this tendency to.. well, not shut up, so you start whining under your breath about how you were supposed to be at some gala, mingling with other stuffy, rich people but you were here. with him.

matt's just watching you, completely baffled and amused by you. it was absolutely so shallow of you and pretty vapid, ut he found himself a little intrigued. his eyes liked what he was seeing, you're pretty, super pretty. you dress like you know it too. "uh," he starts, "you didn't ask for my two cents on the whole.. gala thing, and i know i ain't the type to even be goin' anywhere near those things, but—could always pay someone to go for you. you got the money, don't you?" that causes a silence to settle over you, and you're quiet for a minute.

but then you burst out laughing, a sound that matt knows he wants to hear more of. he tries to hide a small smile, but then you're switching up on him the instant you realise you're laughing at something he'd said. "i got the money, but i ain't payin' someone to enjoy the time i was going to. defeats the whole purpose, dumbass." the smile switching to a glare damn near gave him whiplash. his brow furrows once more, and he raises his hands in surrender.

"shit, okay, okay, keep whinin' then," god, he didn't understand you, not at all. you were something, alright. "..'n' who're you callin' a dumbass?" he mumbles under his breath, sighing as he glanced back at the ceiling once more. giving you a quick glare, in return, that ends your conversation quite abruptly. but both of you are intrigued by eachother, clearly.

"you look so out of place here, kid," matt can't help but laugh at you. the said mutual friend from before had invited you to some party at some random guy's house. a birthday party, or some shit. a total lapse of judgement on your part, you knew, and you'd literally snuck out of your parent's place to be there. why the fuck did you do that for? you looked so out of place, he was right. you're stood there like even touching a single thing'll kill you on the spot.

you glare at him instantly, folding your arms under your chest which instantly draws his attention down to your cleavage. you notice, of course, hating the way a warm feeling bubbles in your stomach from how he looks at you. "don't remember ever askin' for your input," your head tilts, "just 'cause you got a pretty face don't mean you needa' go 'round stickin' your head where it don't belong."

"you think i got a pretty face? how sweet," he sticks his tongue out, a soft smirk gracing his lips. he looks good. dark tufts of hair stick out from beneath his beanie, the colourful lights set up causing a nice sheen to glow down onto his face. you're not crushing on him though—no, no. he's just some skater. he could never give you what you want. "c'mon, relax a little," he says his words soon after his first few just so you don't get a chance to snap at his cocky remark, catching you off guard.

"i don't know anyone here," you mutter under your breath, fiddling with your expensive necklace, once again drawing his attention downwards. he's pretty sure you're doing it on purpose now, honestly, since you keep doing it. those nails.. he's imagining them wrapped around other things, that's for sure. "you know me," his voice is a little gentler, and he nods over to the kitchen where beer pong is set up, "it'll be fun. loosen' you up a lil' bit." you're skeptical for a moment, but you nod, making your way over with him.

he has to say, he's into how quiet you get when you're somewhere out of your comfort zone. you're not as mouthy, or annoying. as much as he loves your banter, the flirty insults between you two, well.. he likes you like this. "you've never played beer pong?" matt's literally gasping, staring at you like you're insane.

your face scrunches up at that, "well, yeah. no one's playin' beer pong at a party where they serve scotch—" you shake your head, sighing. he wanted you to loosen up? you'd loosen up. he gives you a look as if to say chill out, before he laughs quietly when you do, in fact, chill out. "i'll teach you. s'easy." his voice is easy, low. and you notice how close he's stood next to you. "you're a quick learner, m'guessin'."

"sure," you roll your shoulders in a shrug, glancing at the beer pong being set up for another round before you look back at matt. "yeah," you affirm after a minute. matt glances at you with a soft, incredulous look before he shakes his head. "c'mon, i don't bite. neither does the beer. at least, it shouldn't." you're calming down with him already, he likes that a lot too.

you'd had another total lapse of judgement, surprise surprise, having been swayed by the inarguably nice night with matt and his stupid, pretty face into becoming fuck buddies. perhaps not your finest moment, but definitely your most pleasurable. he makes you feel good, so, so good. takes away your stress from all your parents expectations, makes you feel taken care of. you two aren't exactly friends with benefits, more like.. people who know eachother, like acquaintances with benefits. but fuck buddies suits you two better.

it'd started off as getting together once, meeting at another party and giving into the raw attraction between you two. he'd had you beneath him, your legs wrapped tight around his hips as he bucked up into you with a brutal pace. his hands grasped at the bed around your head, a bed in which he had no idea whose it was. hey, he needed you, real bad. the logistics of everything hadn't crossed his mind once. "need you," you'd whined, voice breaking a little with how loudly you'd been crying out his name.

"you're gettin' me, baby," he grunted, grasping at the bed a little tighter as you clenched around him, practically trapping him there. his eyes lift up to yours, a flush covering his face at how damn good you feel. "what d'you want?" he growled, all breathless and heavy, like even speaking took a lot out of him. "need you, ah—after this, too," you couldn't have him just once, that wouldn't be fair. he felt too fucking perfect to only have once.

matt laughs quietly, realising you're on the verge of just babbling from how deep he's fucking you. "shh, sh, i got you," he murmured, lowering his head down to yours to press his lips down against yours to ensure you wouldn't keep talking. between kisses, he whispers, "gonna have me whenever you want, baby. whenever you want." that had you practically squirting, thighs trembling as the movements of his hips stuttered.

he kept up his promise, and whenever you wanted him, you got him. matt didn't want to seem desperate, but he was starting to like you, a lot. those snarky comments and bitchy glares started turning into fond looks and quiet compliments. he wasn't soft on you, he really didn't want to be—but there he was, letting you practically walk all over him in those expensive heels. it wasn't until a certain moment where you realised you felt the same as he did. he fell first, but god damn it, did you fall harder.

matt's buried so deep inside you, all you can think about, all you want to think about is him. he's overwhelming in the best way, having told you to keep your eyes on his or else he wouldn't give you what you wanted. "eyes on me, baby, wanna see those pretty eyes," he murmured, your legs hiked up onto his shoulders as opposed to his hips this time. you two had been in many different positions with eachother, sure, but this? how close he is? how he's balls deep inside your cunt? can't think straight.

you lift your eyes to his, swallowing thickly as another whine rips from your throat. he coos softly, "there you are. there's my girl," his girl? you're his girl? he's being so soft, and loving, nothing like he's been before or you've ever had before. it's making you feel some kind of way and it feels wrong, but so right at the same time. "makin' such pretty sounds, lookin' so lovely like this.. you take my dick so well."

"matt—" you gasp softly, trying to bring yourself as close as possible with a swivel of your hips forward. matt groans, his head falling down into the crook of your neck as he slides his hands down to grasp at your thighs. just the feel of the callouses on his hands from various skating accidents has you squealing and whining beneath him. "so good, shit, oh, oh—right there, riiight there.."

"right there? right there?" matt drives himself deeper within you, whining into your skin. his nose brushes against your soft skin, grunting under his breath with each thrust forward of his hips. "i've got you, c'mon, cum 'round my cock for me, let it go, there she is, that's it.." he's thrusting up into you through your orgasm, holding you as close as possible, and even with the pleasure clouding your brain, you're realising that you're most definitely in love.

maybe it's the slow drag of his cock against your walls, as he takes a slower, steadier approach to pounding you into the bed—maybe it's his sweet words, you don't know, but all of it coming together? you're in love.

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @dayzeandhaze, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @55sturn, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @beetlejenna, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasagrl, @imwetforyourmom, @deansbite, @beridollie, @https--roman, @sincerebabydoll, @pillwebb, @cayleeuhithinknot, @j2ss7 ִ ꒱

[milkloafy]

TOO LATE TO BE YOUR FIRST LOVE, BUT I’LL ALWAYS BE YOUR FAVORITE — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: megumi has known you since childhood as his sister’s annoying friend. now, years later, he sees you at a nice restaurant and wonders why you’re all alone. ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: fem!reader, fluff, aged up au, gojo is…here xD, bsf brother / sister’s bsf au, reader wears a dress, megumi checks reader out, reader gets stood up by her ex womp womp… ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.9k+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: first jjk fic and i’m starting it off with a banger cliche ! i can’t help it okay megumi’s sister is soooo pretty pls by my bsf in another life :3 also ik this title is so long i literally could not think of anything so i was like okay yeah sure let’s listen to miss sabrina carpenter and then bam! here we go i guess! 

“Be good to my kouhai, okay Megumi-chan?”

Those were the words that rung through his head as he saw you sitting at a table for two, alone and dolled up in a nice dress with pearls around your neck. 

Megumi didn’t claim to be an expert in your life or personal preferences, but from what he did know of you, you weren’t exactly the type to take yourself out on a date all alone. It drew too much unwanted attention towards you that you likely did not want to deal with.

That was something he certainly resonated with.

After watching you pick up your glass of water and put it down five times all in the span of one minute, he almost felt bad enough for you to head over there and take you out of your misery. Unfortunately, an aggravating voice beside him reminded Megumi why he was in this fancy restaurant in the first place.

“Isn’t that right, Megumi-kun?” 

“Huh?” he asked, turning his attention back to his own table. 

Gojo was leaning forward on the table with a smug look on his face, a look that Megumi learned was never good. Although Gojo had shades on blocking his gaze, Megumi sensed Gojo was looking directly at you.

“I said she’s pretty, isn’t she?” 

Megumi glared at the white-haired pervert with an irritated look on his face. “She’s not for you, old man.” 

Gojo laughed as he held his arms up innocently. “I meant for you. You’ve been staring at her for a while now. It’s kinda creepy, actually.” 

“That’s Tsumiki’s friend,” said Megumi, choosing to ignore Gojo’s comment. “One of her closest. Not sure why she’s here by herself. I just want to make sure she’s not in any kind of trouble.” 

“Well, let’s examine the evidence,” Gojo declared, clearing his throat before counting his fingers on one hand. “One, her hair and makeup are done real nice. Two, she’s in a fancy dress. Three, she’s been giving that glass of water a death glare for the past few minutes.”

Megumi raised his brow, unamused. “Okay. And?”

“Your sister's friend over there has just been stood up,” concluded Gojo, leaning against the back of his chair in satisfaction. “Now, if you’re going to do something about it, I suggest you do it before Yuuji and Nobara get here.” 

“Why?”

“Do you have to ask? The moment they arrive they’ll follow along behind you and see what you’re doing,” cautioned Gojo, as if he wouldn’t join them in an instant. 

Megumi made a face at the thought, but he knew Gojo was right. Itadori and Kugisaki would stick their noses into any and everything that involved him and would somehow find a way to embarrass him yet again. 

Standing up, Megumi sighed. “How long do I have?”

“I told them the reservation was for ten minutes ago. So you should have at least twenty minutes now.” 

“Thanks,” Megumi grumbled, heading over to your table with an awkward expression on his face. He hoped this wouldn’t embarrass you further, but he could deal with your potential attitude as long as it brought you some comfort. 

Though you may be annoying at times with how often you teased him and called him girly nicknames he hated, you were still his sister’s best friend. Helping you save face seemed like the good thing to his sister would want him to do. 

“Hey.” 

Startled, you looked up from your phone and saw Megumi standing next to your table, his arms folded across his chest. 

The moment you met his gaze, your eyes brightened and you waved at him.

“Gumi-chan!” you sang as a greeting, voice too loud for the formal ambiance of the restaurant.

“Shh! Are you crazy?” hissed Megumi, looking around frantically to make sure Gojo did not overhear you calling him that. However, judging by the shit-eating grin on Gojo’s face, Megumi knew Gojo heard and would never let Megumi live this down. 

You giggled at his embarrassment.

Megumi huffed. Shouldn’t you be the embarrassed one here? 

“Long time no see,” you said, motioning for him to sit across from you in the opposite seat. “What’s little Megumi doing at a fancy place like this?” You paused, gasping in surprise from a story you totally just made up about his situation, he assumed. “Don’t tell me you’re here on a date! I have to text Tsumiki! They grow up so fast…”

“I’m the same age as you,” he mumbled. 

You reached over and pinched his cheek. Megumi swatted your hand away. “You sure act younger, though!”

“Shut up.”

Megumi sighed, wondering why he wanted to comfort you in the first place. You seemed just fine to him. 

“I’m not here on a date,” he finally replied, hoping you hadn’t yet sent his sister any incriminating texts about his non-existent date. “Gojo-sensei is treating some of his students out for a graduation dinner.” 

“Aww! Graduation, already?” you cooed, as if you didn’t also just graduate university this year. “They really do grow up so fast!”

“You can stop talking now.” 

You laughed, knowing better than to take his grumpy words too seriously. Megumi was glad he didn’t have to explain that side of himself to you.

“What about you?”

“Me?” you parroted.

“Are you here on a date?”

You slowly brought up your glass of water to you and nodded. “Supposed to be…”

“You’re dating someone new already?” asked Megumi, thinking about the annoying ex-boyfriend of yours you finally broke up with a few months ago. 

Hesitantly, you shook your head, toying with the pearl beads on your necklace. “Not exactly…”

He raised a brow, waiting for you to stop being so vague. 

“He’s not someone new,” you mumbled, your voice clouded with embarrassment. 

“He’s not new?”

“Oh, Gumi! Are you really going to make me say it?” you cried, puffing your cheeks in indignation. “My ex, alright? I was supposed to be on a date with my ex right now. And he stood me up!”

Megumi blinked, his mind jumping through hoops to piece together what you were implying. “Let me get this straight.”

You made a defeated noise of agreement. 

“You broke up with your ex, he groveled and begged for your forgiveness, you agreed to go on a date with him for god knows why, and he still stood you up. And now you’re here, sad and alone.” 

You groaned, covering your own ears. “It sounds even more pathetic when you say it out loud. God. I’m so pathetic, Gumi.”

“Hey,” said Megumi gruffly. “What would Tsumiki do if she heard you say that just now? You’re not pathetic. Your ex is the pathetic one.” 

“You’re right,” you sniffled, nodding at his word. “But I still can’t help but feel that way, though.”

For the first time tonight, he saw a dejected expression cross your face. It always unsettled him to see you unhappy.

“He’s dumb for standing you up.” Megumi rubbed the back of his neck, looking away uncomfortably. “Listen, you deserve someone better than him, okay?”

“Someone like you?” you teased with the start of a grin forming on your face.

Megumi rolled his eyes in annoyance, but deep down, he was glad to see your smile return. 

“Eh? Who said you would deserve someone like me?” he retorted.

You giggled, putting your hand over your heart dramatically. “Ouch! You wound me, Gumi.”

He shrugged. 

“And here I thought you would feel bad enough for me to finally give me a chance,” you proclaimed with an exaggerated sigh.

“Shut up.”

His short words didn’t disguise the heat from spreading across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. You always toyed with him like that… There was no way you actually meant it, he told himself.

“Hey,” he said, about to suggest something he might later regret. “Instead of sitting here alone, do you want to join me?”

Your eyes widened at his invitation and his ears turned an even darker shade of pink.

“Not alone! There’ll be others there,” he said hastily. “For the graduation dinner, remember? But they won’t mind.”

You tapped your index finger to your chin a few times, as if thinking hard, before agreeing easily. “Sure! Beats being alone. And, just for the record, I would have said yes even if it was just us two.”

Megumi scowled. His poor face wasn’t able to catch a break from all the annoying heat rushing to it. “Let’s go, then.”

As you stood, you smoothed your dress down and adjusted the length so you wouldn’t accidentally flash your ass to those seated behind you. Immediately, Megumi found his gaze wandering to where the hem of your dress hugged your soft thighs. His throat grew dry. 

When he managed to tear his gaze away from your body and back to your face, he noticed you looking at him always expectantly, as if waiting for him to explain why the hell he was checking you out for so long.

Megumi cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn’t sound too strained. “It’s a good thing you were stood up, you know?”

“Huh?” you asked in confusion.

“Your ex doesn’t deserve to see how you look in that dress anyway.”

“Oh,” you managed to say, averting your gaze as a bashful look took over your face. This was the first time in ages that Megumi has seen you look like this.

He smiled to himself, savoring the sweet look of shyness on your face. Typically, you were the one teasing him, much to his annoyance. It was nice to get some payback sometimes.

“Thank you, Gumi,” you murmured, fingers toying with the hem on your dress, only making it rise up higher on your thighs. 

“Just the truth,” he said with forced nonchalance.

As the two of you approached the table, the contentment Megumi felt was instantly doused when he saw Gojo, Itadori, and Kugisaki all ogling at you with their mouths wide open.

“Oh ho ho! Is this a friend of yours, Megumi-kun?”

“Hey, I’m Itadori!” 

“Run while you can! You’re too pretty for him, got it?” 

You waved at the table, somehow not scared away by their obnoxiousness. “Hi! And yes, his sister tells me that all the time!” You looked over at Megumi and winked. “But I think he’s just as pretty.”

Megumi groaned as he sat down in an empty seat, putting his head in his hands in exasperation as he heard everyone laughing together. He was already regretting introducing you to his idiot friends. 

But as you took a seat next to him, he peered at you through a crack between his fingers, and he couldn’t help but feel pleased at the joyful expression on your face. If it was up to him, that’s the only way you would look.

Along with your shy expression, of course. Megumi would pay to see that again as well. 

You met his eyes through the sliver of space between his fingers and grinned at him. His found his worries fading away. 

Megumi sighed to himself. Maybe he should thank your scumbag ex for standing you up, after all. Turns out he quite liked your company. Maybe even as more than just his sister’s annoying friend.

As if you were able to read his mind, you blew him a kiss from the seat beside him and his face reddened once more.

Gojo whooped and hollered at the interaction and Megumi felt himself sinking further and further into his seat.

Never mind, he told himself. You were still the pain in his ass that would never go away.

But maybe Megumi didn't want it to.

[rowretro]

𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕪

𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙍𝙄𝙆𝙄 𝙒𝙃𝙀𝙉 𝙐 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙆 𝙃𝙀'𝙎 𝘾𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𓆩♡𓆪 ☽⋆˚｡⋆˚.

✰warnings: yandere themes, kissing, making out ish, a lot of fluff after they makeup<3

❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀⋆୨୧⋆❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀

Why would y/n care if the man who hurt her, kidnapped her, forced her to live with him in his home to go see other women? she hates him after all doesn't she? she wishes she does, but she just can't. He's so sweet to her despite the fact he abducted her purely because he loves her, he stopped his obsessive killing of men who even look in her direction, and now he even trusts her enough to leave, just the bedroom door unlocked. He literally killed for her, of course he'd die for her.

Y/n hates that she thinks he'd do such a thing, she received a picture from a friend on her snap, of Riki walking alongside another woman. They looked so close... she was flirtatious with him, arm around his shoulders, and he smiled at her. The woman being someone she loathed, a bitch who has beaten many girls almost to death, and tried to use y/ns personal life against her. Basically a bitch. To say she was mad was an understatement. The man who abducted her, killed for her, and treated her like a princess, forcing her to be his is with another fucking woman?!

She flinched a little as the door suddenly shut, interrupting her out of her thoughts. "baby im home~" he called. Y/n glared at the wall, waiting for him to enter the bedroom. "Why didn't you come to the door pretty girl?" he asked as Y/n frowned. "Am i pretty girl? or is she?!" y/n asked, as Riki sat opposite her on their bed. "who exactly is her?" he asked, a little confused "the side-chick that had her grubby hands all over you. im sorry, you drag me here claiming that you love me, killed a classmate that confessed to me, and used his many crimes as an excuse, only for you to cheat with a basic bitch who does nothing but whores around spending mommy's money and using daddy's name to defend her crimes?!" she lets out, clearly upset.

However riki just smiled, his eyes staring at her endearingly "my sweetheart is jealous~" he cooed as he tried to reach for her, mad y/n slapped his hands away. "ok ok cool cool... that bitch has been getting on my nerves lately... she filmed you getting dressed so I had to play the part to show her her place... don't worry I haven't killed her... yet..." he smirks, turning on the news. There she was, the girl's photo, somewhat blurred, being exposed for her many offences that she coverred up. "As for the video, deleted forever..." he added as y/n just sat there, unsure of what to do.

A few hours of silence pass, Riki was watching TV, as y/n finished up a few tiny chores. Seeing him, she heaved a quiet sigh, and slipped in the seat beside him. "Im cold" she said staring at him as he looked her up and down "Of course you are, it's autumn and you're wearing a thin-strapped croptop- and the material of those jeans are way too thin." he complained as Y/n frowned. "I said Im cold!" she whined as Riki snickerred. "you have to pay me first." he said as she bit her lip.

She leaned in, catching his soft, plush, perfect lips in a loving kiss, his arms wrapping around her waist, as they let their tongues collide, one of his hands rested at her head, as she placed her arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss as much as she could. As she pulls away, she leaves a few soft kisses down his jawline to his neck, and sinks into his warm embrace. "Dont you dare cheat on me... I'll cry." She mumbled as she snuggled against him. "God you must think im insane if im ever willing enough to cheat on you. do you know how long ive waited for you?!" Riki asked.

He unzipped his hoodie, wrapping it around her a little, as he yanked a soft blanket to wrap around them "What do you wanna watch?" he asked "I know i've watched it a lot but... Let's watch so not worth it and order some nice food hmm?" Y/n suggests as he kisses her nose "Anything for you my lifeline~" he smiled, pulling out his phone to order food.

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a/n: yeah i don't even know about this... hope u enjoyed it tho<3

[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Vox Kink Headcanons

Personal kink headcanons for my beloved tv man Vox. Not doing the more obvious/universally accepted kinks. Instead I'm writing about some of my more... niche takes.

WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader, but is AFAB for the last section; all the kinky shit obviously; Valentino mention (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Domestic Kink ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

For those who don't know, a domestic kink is being turned on by doing everyday couple things. Things like cooking, cleaning, that type of thing. Vox basically gets turned on by you two being a couple and taking care of each other. The man is so love starved he just gets sent to another planet by those simple everyday shows of affection.

If you start helping Vox get dressed in the mornings, he will melt into a puddle. Every. Time.

It started simple enough, Vox was in a rush so you thought to help him put on his coat. Sliding it onto him, adjusting the collar, straightening his bowtie... You didn't notice how still he went until you went to fix his sleeves and you looked up into his wide, almost feral eyes.

Vox desperately crashed his lips against yours as he pulled your bodies flush together causing you to squeak. Only then did you feel how hard you had made him as he grinded into you... Needless to say, Vox had to reschedule his entire morning.

Vox will come home to you cooking dinner and just bend you over the counter. Whispering in your ear, 'Your so sweet doing this for me, Sugar. Now let me take care of you."

I have had the scenario floating around of you making Vox breakfast in bed one morning just as something nice to do for him. You dont think too much of it, he has been so tired and overworked lately so you figure any extra sleep he can get would do wonders for him

Vox however, absolutely fucking loses it. When you wake him up with tray in hand, he... just kind of stares at you. What do you mean you already made breakfast? Wait you have breakfast? For him? For him in bed?

You actually thought the man might have bluescreened. It takes you setting the tray down and grabbing his hand before he starts moving again.

Vox pulls you into his lap and starts peppering kisses all over you. He just cant believe that this is actually happening; that your here with him, that you did such a sweet thing, and oh god does he love you so much.

He actually is daydreaming about it the rest of the day and bragging about it whenever he can.

Comes home early that evening just to surprise you and spend a romantic evening together (totally not because he accidentally pent himself up gushing over you all day ABSOLUTELY NOT).

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Recording/Being Recorded ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

(This one might not be a niche take but I'm putting it here anyway cause I want to yap about it)

I wasn't quite sure if there was a specific name for this kink. But what I mean by this is Vox loves to specifically record you two having sex. Like an amateur porn thing. However. These videos are meant for his eyes only.

Vox would murder anyone who so much as tried to get their hands on these videos. God help them if they actually saw one. Its not even a matter of honor or anything, its a matter of only Vox is allowed to see you come apart like that. Vox is the only one allowed to hear you make those sounds.

Vox honestly isnt going to even bring this whole 'recording you two' thing up unless he trusts you completely. Even then he is super sheepish the first time he asks about it. Vox knows your going to be suspicious and, yeah, you rightfully are due to his association with the porn moth.

It takes a bit of prodding for you to get out of Vox that he sees it as a different way to enjoy you. To experience you. He will get to see your beautiful body at angles he never could while he plows into you. He can finally see the look of pure ecstasy on your face as he eats you out, diving his tongue as far into you as it can go.

Vox is over the moon when you finally agree to let him place a camcorder in your shared bedroom.

You viscerally notice how much more relaxed and strangely content Vox seems to be next time you two have sex. Vox always had this certain tension to him and its just... gone now.

What you don't realize is that 'tension' was Vox's underlying fear of how transient you were. He was always trying to absorb as much of you as he could, to memorize every part of you. But now he felt like he could truly let himself enjoy the moment knowing that he will be able to listen to your heavenly sounds on repeat, analyze every little twitch he causes, and fully see every expression you make.

A deep, deep, dark part of Vox want to tell Valentino to cancel every shoot he has for a day. To reserve the studio just for you two. To spend an entire day taking you in every way imaginable. Bringing you to bliss in every messy way he possibly can. Getting you to make every obscene noise that beautiful voice of yours can make.

But Vox knows that he could never trust Valentino to not make a copy of you two for himself. So he will stick to his amateur recordings. Anything to keep you safe and to himself.

Whenever Vox is missing you at work (or whenever he gets a free moment honestly), he starts watching back one of your now countless sex tapes. He will let the odd feeling of comfort wash over him as he sees the adoring looks you give him and hears you two exchange words of love. God, he can't wait to get back home to you.

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Cock Warming ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

OKAY. I think I've gotten the point across that Vox is a certified lover boy™ who basically wants to imbibe your very being. Whelp. This is just more of that.

Don't get me wrong, Vox loves sex. Sex is great. But having you on his lap, his cock inside you, the two of you as close as two beings can physically get, and just- enjoying that... It hits differently you know?

Say its due to his mechanical nature all you want, (insert joke about 'plugging in' here) but Vox loves to feel like you two are truly connected. When your bodies actually become one like this, he is just that much closer to perfect.

As stated previously, will let you sit on his lap and cockwarm him anytime you please. Vox's absolute favorite times are when he has to do work ironically. He can never stop the blissful smile he makes as he has you in his lap. Vox will gently hold you with one arm while the other tries to get work done. You always end up giggling whenever you kiss up the side of his neck or monitor and Vox lets out the most contented sighs.

Honestly, just start going to work with him, becoming his personal cocksleeve whenever he is in his monitor room. A blanket draped over the two of you to hide what's actually going on.

Since the poor guy has no choice but to sleep on his back; you can easily do the same thing for bedtime. Climb on top of him and delicately slide him inside of you. Vox will just look up at you with the most lovedrunk expression as you bend over him and nuzzle into his neck, your body draping over his, and Vox pulling you impossibly close as you both fall asleep.

Its times like this that Vox questions why anyone would even need heaven.

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FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

One of my favorite posts that just goes over a evening being Vox's s/o can be found >>HERE<<, its by the talented @lqveharrington

Another really good post by @liveontelevision where Vox gets jealous of your work with Valentino and decides to start recording you can be found >>HERE<<

Then lastly, quick headcanons by @voxsremotec0ck where Vox is spying on the reader then catches you masturbating can be found >>HERE<<

[clockwayswrites]

Minx- Dinner Start

cw: implied and lightly referenced sexual acts and favors

“Well, you look like something the cat threw up.”

Jason pried one eye open just to glare at Danny as he flicked him off. It didn’t matter if Danny couldn’t see the glare, it was the principle of it all. Jason didn’t need to be told how badly he looked, not when he knew how badly he felt. He especially didn’t need to be told that by Danny who looked liked a million bucks. The black dress hugged Danny on all the right places to give him all the right curves and, impressively, the appearance of small but shapely breasts.

Danny just shrugged at the gesture. “You do.”

“And you’re lucky most people here know not to fuck with you,” Jason growled. “What are you doing walking around here looking like that?”

“There were some creeps around the lockers I keep my change of clothes in,” Danny said as he sashayed forward. The way he walked in those heels over the beat up sidewalks of the Alley was frankly impressive. “It seemed safer to come home like this than deal with those fucks. Don’t worry, I’ve got the gun you gave me.”

Jason ran his gaze down the form fitting dress again. “Where?”

Danny laughed, the sound bright and musical. It was at odds with the shit hole of a night that Jason had been through. It was nice.

“Come on, up off the wall. My place should be close enough to limp over to,” Danny said. He reached out and placed what Jason had to imagine was a gentle hand on the side of the helmet. “Unless you need the better stock of your place?”

Jason bit back a groan as he leaned up off the wall. “Not that badly hurt. It’s a lot of surface shit and bruising.”

“I can take care of that. Come on. I even have dinner waiting for us.”

“Yeah, how’d you manage that magic?” Jason asked. He followed just a step behind Danny and to his left, automatically falling in to guard him in a way that Jason tried not to think about too hard.

“With the magic of a crockpot and a rice cooker,” Danny said with a dramatic spread of his hands like he was making a rainbow. “Seriously, best two purchases that I’ve ever made. Like, I can come home to warm food and it’s good! I never thought that I could cook but this shit I can do.”

Jason hummed in acknowledgment. He couldn’t exactly do a crockpot when he didn’t know what safe hosue he might end up at, but maybe he could look into a rice cooker that he could start remotely. If he threw some precooked meat or an egg on top of the rice, that would still be better than what he at some nights when he was coming home after a long patrol.

“This one is mine,” Danny said as they got to a small, nondescript door. It was next to the entrance for a fix-it sort of shop and lead up to the second story of the battered, brick building.

Jason had already known that this one was Danny’s. He chose to not say anything about that as Danny unlocked the door and led them up the tight stairs to another door (which was to Jason’s approval also locked) and into the apartment.

Thrift store might be a better word for the place. There was a lot of stuff with no clear sense of style or theme. Hell, Jason wasn’t even completely sure what room they were standing in right then.

“Go sit on the couch,” Danny said.

“I would if I could see the damn thing,” Jason replied.

Danny rolled his eyes as he brought a foot up to start to undo the dangerous footwear. “Behind the potted plants. It’s yellow, you can hardly miss it.”

“You say that, but,” Jason said, mostly to be an ass, as he headed that way. He stopped short of the very yellow couch to stare at the wall and the large, neon skull that adorned it. “Didn’t that used to be up Vic’s bar?”

Danny smirked at him as he passed by. “You can’t prove it’s the same one.”

“I can. I mean, you know that, right?” Jason called after Danny as he disappeared through a door that he didn’t bother closing. “I could, in fact, prove it is the same one.”

“But you won’t!”

Jason sighed. But he wouldn’t. “How did you even get it here in one piece?”

“Carefully and with a few blow job IOUs,” Danny said casually. After a beat he added, “You know, I don’t think Leo ever cashed in on his? Oh well, he’s happily married now.”

Not really knowing what to say back to that, Jason sat down on the edge of the couch and started to undo his boots. He set the second one aside just in time to look up as Danny finished pulling on some black leggings up over strawberry patterned underwear. Jason glanced aside quickly.

He hardly had an issue with nudity— not after years of fighting crime with family or training with assassins— but there was something so much more intimate about it in the soft neon light of Danny’s apartment. Focusing on taking of the bulkiest parts of his own armor seemed safer than looking up again.

--- AN: Words are... not my friend today, so not sure if I'll get anything for Trauma Tuesday done. So have this it of Minx I wrote more of last night! Stay delightful, darlings.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Daylight Orgy: The Rite (IV)

Masterlist for The Rite is HERE My regular Masterlist is HERE Summary: (4) You confront Loki about Fandral - and the rules of the Rite are bent to breaking point. (w/c 4.1k) Warnings: 18+ only. Minors DNI. Asgard Loki! x FReader. Smuttish (+ 3rd party smut). Jealousy. Loki being a naughty prince.

Had you been expecting Loki to follow you?

That he’d thunder down those spiral steps and throw the bronze door open? Tear across the market square half-naked and yank you by the shoulders to say, ‘Stop – that scoundrel is a lying vagabond…’ ?

Yes, obviously.

But he didn’t.

You couldn’t settle back in your chambers. Picking things up, putting them down, moving to the window - always on edge for a knock that didn’t come.

‘The pleasure of the subject is only one part of the ritual. You cannot possibly fulfil the second.’

The fuck was that supposed to mean? Loki never mentioned a second part. As far as you knew, all you had to do was lie there and let him eat you out, not contain any enthusiasm, and try not to die from overstimulation. Sure…there might be other weird shit, it was the Asgardian Royals after all – but this seemed important.

If Fandral’s telling the truth, that is.

You frown, staring at a wiry bird shifting over the rooftops. Clearly, Fandral's a shit-stirrer. Clearly, he’s jealous, Loki had said as much. You’d be pretty jealous too if you were the only person in the inner-circle Loki hadn’t fucked over the past five centuries. An unexpected wrench of envy twists your stomach.

But the prince you’d seen in the Weaving Rooms was entirely different to the one that stared down from frescos and observed his worshippers with cool disdain. A smile that lit up his eyes, the inflection of a breathless chuckle as you caught him by surprise, a faint blush that could be mistaken as humble, the hesitant lust which thrummed beneath his skin as you’d pressed to him –

‘I need to see you,’ he’d said. ‘Every day from now until then.’ Like you meant something to him, and it felt…real.

Was it really a game? Would he pull the rug at the last minute before the ceremony? It was very on brand, you’d admit. The thought sends a violent shudder up your spine.

The next morning, there’s no knock at the door from Loki’s apprentice. No letters, no nothing. Anxiety creeps to anger, and with every inch the sun moves up the sky, your feet get itchier. Does he think I’m just going to sit around and wait for him? Fucking gods. Maybe I should just tell him no – then he’ll have do the Rite with Fandral, see how that works out. Serve him right.

But then… the thought of Loki crawling on top of that smarmy, coiffured arsehole invades your brain. Shit. You shift down the corridors of the court towards the interior palace. No one looks at you today. The golden doors of the main entrance to the royal quarters loom, and you swallow, heart loud in your ears. A guard side-steps in front of you with a cock of an eyebrow as effective as a raise of his hand. “I’m here to see Prince Loki,” you say. The eyebrow cocks higher. “You know how many people try that every day?” He looks down to your feet, and back to your face with a sneer. “Most of them dress better for the occasion. Or at least bring a bribe.”

You stare at him with heat creeping up your neck. “He knows who I am.” He laughs. “I bet he does.” “He does!” “Look…” The guard cups your elbow and ushers you to the side, glancing towards his peers at the other end of the door. “I don’t want to embarrass you, love. Just do yourself a favour, and leave.”

Your eyes narrow. “I’m here to see Prince Loki,” you say again, harsher this time. “Can someone just go and tell him I’m here? He’ll be pissed if he finds out you turned me away.” The guard flinches fractionally, studying your face. Eventually he leaves, and five minutes later, he’s back. “Come on,” he says gruffly. No apology, very nice. The gold door slams and the bustle of the outer court disappears. The air is cooler in here, a strange stillness hanging like perfume. More marble carves in large arches along the corridor, open to garden running up the middle of a courtyard. Somewhere, water trickles - but you can't see it. “He’s drunk,” the guard says without looking back. “Excuse me?” “The Prince. He’s drunk, and he has company.” You frown. It isn’t even midday. Suddenly your throat feels very tight, and you feel very small. If Loki had wanted to see me, he’d have asked. He’d have sent for me. So much for being aloof and interesting. Your irritation towards Fandral blooms with new fervour: not only has he ruined your excitement; he’s ruined your hot-girl-mystery.

The guard stops abruptly and you collide into his shoulder-guards. He clears his throat, stamping a staff twice.

You roll your eyes, shuffling around him. Through an open set of doors is a room like something from the whispered tales of olden Asgard. Chiffon flutters at the windows, long plush cushions lining the floor draped with blankets that shimmer in sunlight. In the corner, some blindfolded guy is plucking at a lute. Platters of nuts, grapes, sweet cakes lie half-demolished across the floor, and twice the amount of goblets as people. And then...your jaw goes slack.

Bodies shift in the room, two dozen, at least - all moving to their own rhythm like waves rippling to shore. A woman sits perched on the windowsill; you can’t see her face, only her legs wrapped around a man’s arse as he slowly thrusts into her. Her hair shimmers like spun gold; lips stained with rich juices while she pants to the ceiling. On the cushions, a man and woman lie side-by-side, kissing languidly as two other men busy themselves between their respective thighs. People are fucking…everywhere: sets of two, three, four. Norns. You’re trying to find somewhere to set your eyes that doesn’t involve breasts, or glistening body parts, or faces twisted in pleasure that you definitely shouldn’t be witness to. And then, they land on Loki. He's looking directly at you with a lazy, dark delight. The Prince lounges across a gilded chair in the corner; one thigh hiked over the armrest and the other stretched to its full length. His boots look more obscene on him than usual, today – sprawling like that.

The laces of his shirt are undone, dark tangles of hair spread over his shoulders and pearls of sweat glistening on his collarbone. With a mildly horrifying lurch of your stomach, you notice the ties at his groin are loose, too. But he’s not got someone squirming around his cock, and that’s something, at least. His lips move, but no sound comes out. You frown as he waves a hand, beckoning you through the doors. Dangling on the precipice of a flee, you feel one foot move in front of the other – and then your face feels like its slathered in jelly: cool, wet slime sliding over your skin. You lurch out the other side of the doorway with a gasp...and then the sound hits. Moans of pleasure ring to the high ceilings: grunts, mewls, groans of names you’ve never heard as they wring pitched ecstasy from each other. Loki’s smile grows. “Just a small silencing enchantment.” He shrugs and clicks his fingers. The door slams behind you. A few pairs of eyes flicker in your direction before re-focusing on their work. You can’t blame them – you’re entirely overdressed. Picking your way across the floor, you come to a stop beside him.

This…isn’t what you’d expected. He rests his head back, half-lidded eyes clouded by whatever’s swirling in his goblet. “You realise it’s not even midday?”

An impish smile lifts Loki’s lips, a flash of tongue nipping over the bottom one. “I am a second son of the crown, famed for hedonism and the sensual pleasures…how else should I fill my days?” Your eyes rise to the couple fucking on the windowsill. “Could we talk somewhere?”

A frown ghosts his forehead, and Loki reaches for your hand. His eyes have sharpened, and he looks almost sober. “We’re all friends here, it’s just…a release. A club, if you will. We can talk here, unless you’re uncomfortable.” Your tongue pokes against your cheek. You have no right to ask this, and yet, “Have you ‘released’ today, then?” One of Loki’s brows rise, lips rippling in a closed smile. “Yes.”

That jealousy you’d been fighting settles like a stone. Loki’s eyes slide between yours, slivers of sapphire sparking beyond deep pools of black. “Although not with any interference from another,’ he adds huskily. “I’m…saving myself, it seems.” “Oh?” “Mmm. Delayed gratification is a powerful lure.”

As the hum leaves his lips, Loki shuffles on the chair: back straightening and the leg hoisted on the armrest shifting. You try not to let your gaze drop to his crotch, but it’s a moth-flame situation. He’s hard, of course. Behind you, someone orgasms.

Heat pools in your lower belly, arousal blossoming like liquid shadow, and you know for a fact if you move – there will be a slip between your thighs. You’ve never been somewhere like this – sex has always been private, quiet. Loki’s looking at you with something close to innocence. Perhaps it’s the way you know there absolutely no way you can fuck him – no way for him to touch that hot mess gathering between your folds, and no way for you to suckle the head of his cock as he tangles those long fingers in your—

“Did you hear what I said?” You clear your throat, swallowing. “Sorry, I was…somewhere else.” “Mmm,” Loki hums again, brushing a finger by his lips to stifle a smile. He lowers his thigh from the armrest and pats it: once, twice. Like a magnet, you slide onto his lap. Across the room, a woman being fucked against a pillar frowns at you over her partner’s shoulder. An arrogant thrill soaks up your spine while Loki’s nose brushes down your cheek; lips lingering on the curve of your neck, his breath gloriously cool against the heat of your skin.

“What did you want to discuss, little owl? Here, in my den of debauchery.” His fingers dance up the folds of fabric at your midsection, cupping a breast and beginning to toy at the nipple. It feels so fucking good: too good. He pinches it gently, rolling against his thumb, knowing exactly what he’s doing; you exhale against his cheek, and it makes it almost impossible to whisper, “Fandral.”

The fingers still, and you can feel Loki frowning without even having to look. “What?” he growls. It’s all you can do not to grind against his thigh. He’s wearing a tight pair of leather trousers, so at least none of the mess between your legs, probably soaking through your dress, will get on his skin. But he might touch me. He pinches your nipple, eyes narrowing. A hiss erupts from your throat, tapering to a moan. “Fandral,” you say on the exhale. “If it’s not too much trouble, desist from moaning that rube's name in my presence, darling.” You frown. “He said you’re messing with me; said you don’t have any intention of us doing the Rite together, and that he’ll be the—”

Suddenly you’re airborne, Loki’s strong hands scooping you like a bag of feathers and manoeuvring you to one of the long pillows on the floor. He looms over you on his hands and knees; one set on either side of your left leg, a wild veil of black hair hanging around his jaw. His lips part, and the impossible muscles of his shoulders shift beneath the drape of that slutty shirt. “He will not,” Loki says. “Did that cunning little mouse say he was visiting Lagertha for any other reason than to have his doublet mended?” His breath is tinged with the sweetness of primrose wine. “You are my chosen partner; he has no sway in it – and certainly no say in it.”

The gravel of his voice is bass to the continuum of groaning that sings between pillars. Desire scorches your skin, tightening your thighs and twisting your stomach so taut it might snap. Your gaze shifts fractionally to the side, catching sight of a beautiful man with bronze hair glittering like a copper coin as his cock sinks inside against another man’s ass: again, again - a hand fastening to the back of his lover’s neck. The second man moans: guttural, primal. “Do you like that?” Loki’s breath licks the shell of your ear, his hands shifting the skirts of your loose dress up your parted legs like water. The digits slide down your arms, guiding them above your head. You can’t look away: the men are poetry together. The one taking everything the other has to give grips the back of a chair, his knuckles white, his jaw trembling and cock hard at his stomach as the fingers cradling his neck tighten.

If Loki can’t ravish you, if he can’t touch your cunt which aches for his tongue – then you’ll settle for his voice. And the heat radiating from the collar of his shirt. And anyway, you’re pretty sure his voice alone will make you climax in 3…2…1— “I want to know everything,” Loki says: dark, filthy, and…honest? Your pussy clenches so hard you almost whimper. “You’ve told me about your life, but now I wish to know your desires…your deepest fantasies. I crave that knowledge like an orgasm I cannot sate.”

His husk lingers heavy over any other sound, filling your mind with strange, inadvisable, thoughts of forever. “What you like,” he hums, “what you want…how I can pleasure you beyond anything you’ve shared with another, and how I can haunt every moment your mind wanders from now until eternity.”

The god’s lips graze your pulse point, and you can feel the thump of blood beating against his skin. “So, I ask again,” he says as the figures fucking in front of you blur, “do you like that?”

A stab of air rips down your throat as you gasp, “Yes.” Norns, right now you’d let him flip you over and sink into your ass in a second.

Without warning, one of Loki’s leather clad thighs presses against your clit. Sparks explode from your centre, tendrils of utter desire rippling across your body like the drag of a lit match. Fear widens your eyes, and amusement dances in his. “Your arousal cannot touch me through these,” he says coolly, taking his time over every syllable. “My hands remain here…” Loki’s eyes dart up to his fingers encircling your wrists, and squeezes. “My sword remains sheathed, and my leathers are merely...” He presses the flat of his lower thigh against your clit again, “A tool.”

“That’s cheating,” you say breathlessly. Loki’s lip twitches in a knowing smirk, a half shrug conveying, ‘What did you expect?’ “Don’t you want to play with me?” His eyes narrow, and another lance of need spears through your core. Your lips roll together, stifling a moan as your brows draw tight. “You’re drunk,” you say. But you don’t believe it. Loki’s pupils are still wide and deep enough to drown in, but it’s not the primrose wine. Unbelievably, it’s you. For now, you decide to let yourself imagine he doesn’t just need you for the Rite; that it could be more – that he could be yours.

The weight of his attention lies heavier in the air than the aroma of sex, and his thigh grinds against your pussy; catching the spot above your clit with each, gentle tug.

“Fuck…Loki,” you whisper, back arching off the cushion. His chin rises, smouldering beneath half-lidded eyes. “Talk to me,” he breathes. You want to dig the heel of your palm against his solid cock bound beneath the crotch of his leathers. You want to feel his animal god-lust pulsing under your hand - more fuel for the violently dirty fantasies you’ll create in your head later as you writhe beneath the sheets alone.

Loki tuts, squeezing your wrists again. You offer a weak, breathy struggle. “No, little owl. Not today, not yet. I want to be destructively engorged with the sight of you…denied what I want while I hear you come undone.” “Loki,” you whine again, face hot and a hum growing in your ears. This is crazy. And yet…

Loki’s thigh moves in wicked waves against your clit; his eyes burning into yours, those thin lips parted and flushed, and ragged exhales scraping from his throat like he’s sinking inside your cunt. “Talk to me,” he says again, but this time, it’s a beg. A silky voice sounds from behind his broad shoulders, accompanied by an immaculately shaped set of nails sweeping across his collarbone. The woman who was glaring earlier. She lowers to his ear. “Can I offer you relief, my prince? Since this one cannot?”

It’s hushed, but you were meant to hear it.

Loki doesn’t even look at her; his fingers stay curled around your wrists. “No,” he says through gritted teeth. She slinks away and the flames licking up your belly burn brighter. The meat of his thigh muscle stills, and the ache of its absence makes you frott against his knee.

“Talk to me,” he commands with an air of finality, chin lowering. “Tell me what you like, what you want.” Even if he let go of your arms, that stare would pin you in place. Every inch the prince; every inch the god – even in the middle of a daylight orgy.

“I want your mouth on me,” you whisper; squirming beneath his mischievous smirk. “I want it…slow, then heavier…then slower.” “Slow?” Loki hums, titling his head. That tongue darts over his lips. “And firm, but…soft. Wet. And loud…I want to hear you taste me.” Gods’ bones, has anyone ever been this ineloquent? But Loki doesn’t seem to mind. His face tells you he knows exactly what you mean; exactly how you like it. He’s imagining it, just as you are.

Your eyes dart to his crotch and the thick outline of his manhood strains against heavy creases. His hips shift, a small hiss filling the air between you. “What else?” he asks in a breathless voice that’s so unlike him. You bite your lip as his stare falls down your chest - flimsy drapes of silk threatening to expose your breasts. You wonder if he’ll let go of your wrists. And if he can control himself if he does. “And I want your cock, too…obviously.” “Obviously…” he goads with the spectre of a smile. The god leans forward, nudging the silk aside with his nose and capturing a nipple with a firm suck. Loki’s thigh begins to shift against your pussy again, and a strangled moan rattles in your throat. The groans of the men fucking a few meters away reach crescendo and they tumble over the edge in a sweaty, groaning slip of sex.

“I want you everywhere,” you gasp, losing any shred of remaining modesty with the smear of your heat against his leathers. “My cunt, my mouth, my ass—” “—Like them?” he stammers, thick brows drawn together. “—Like them. I want you so deep inside me I forget my own name, want your skin smacking my shoulders, want you pulling me onto your cock as you fuck me like I’m in heat and you can’t control it—” “—More,” Loki gasps, and your eyes fly open. His face is twisted with furious need, lines deep in his forehead, strands of onyx hair buffeting at his lips. His thigh slips against your slit – it’s absolutely soaked, and his hands tremble where he’s holding you in place. The words that shape your lips are calculated in their depravity: aimed to kill. “I want your cum dripping between my thighs; dripping between my breasts…” At that, Loki groans. “I’ll lick it off myself…before I suck you clean, and swallow everything you have left…my prince.” Loki’s jaw slackens like the orgasm shattering him is an unseen foe with a knife to his neck. The jolt in his hips sends the thick thigh driving against your clit and you crumble right alongside him with a garbled cry of his name. He falls on top of you in a mess of ferocious need; lips working, breath gasping from your lungs and the beat of his heart strong against your ribs. But still, his hands don’t leave your wrists.

“You are a wonder,” he breathes, galaxies swimming in his pleasure-drunk stare. And for a moment, you forget that you’re a means to an end; that after the Rite you’ll go back to being a nobody - and you believe him.  

Loki barely has his wits back when someone clears their throat at the door. “Your brother - Prince Loki.” “My what?” “Your brother, the crown prince. He’s outside.” “Nine hels. What does he want?” Loki didn’t wait for the man to respond – he’d save the wretch that particular misery, and Loki’s misery at having to listen to the bluster of his explanation. He dips to your cheek, drawing his nose down the line of your cheekbone, inhaling against your sweat-damp skin. “I’ll return shortly,” he whispers. And below him, you shiver. A thrill spreads in sharp veins under his flesh. Loki strides past the guard looking at the ceiling while his cheeks flush an alarming shade of scarlet – and the door shuts quickly behind them. Thor stands with his arms folded, one ill-groomed eyebrow rising as he says, “Are the reports true? That your Rite partner is in there?” Loki can’t contain the eye-roll. “If you think I’m so foolish as to compromise myself at the eleventh hour before my ascension to the royal line; then truly there is no hope for you, brother. And she has a name, you know.” Thor’s gaze drops sceptically to his thigh. “What’s that?” He gestures to the glistening slick down one of the leather-clad quad muscles. Norns. “It’s not breaking the rules, I checked.”

With a flick of his fingers, the slick evaporates. And even though he’s sure (almost, sure), Loki rubs his fingertips together. Nothing. He breathes a secret sigh of relief. It would just be like Thor to ruin everything without actually intending to. “Of course you did, Loki. How studious of you.” “Can you spell that?” He snorts. “Besides, your partner was Lady Sif – you had centuries to cultivate the bond. And father and mother were partners…it’s a completely different situation. I must do what I must within the confines of the ceremonial rules.” “And whose fault is that, Loki? You could’ve had your pick of partners had you not rutted through them in a jamboree of wine and carnal gluttony.” Loki’s lip twitches, and he sucks the bottom one between his teeth. “I couldn’t have selected better if I’d had the centuries to spare, actually. Not all of us need hundreds of years to woo someone.”

The bemused crunch of Thor’s brow makes a flutter of satisfaction blossom in his chest. “I assure you, brother – all aspects of the Rite of Successional Pleasure will be fulfilled, I’m sure of it.” Thor's eyes narrow. “She’s been told of the second requirement?” “No, but I believe doing so will make it unnecessarily…challenging. She doesn’t need to know, she only needs to feel.” “You realise her feelings for you must come willingly. Un-influenced by magic?”

Loki glares, spine stiffening. “I shan't need to use my powers to wring pleasure from her body, why should I require it of her heart? Is that so hard to believe?” “In such a short amount of time? Yes, brother. I’ve known you over a millennia, and most days I still don’t care for you.” Loki’s fist flexes at his side as Thor, regrettably, continues. “The Rite is an expression of our benevolence to bestow pleasure on another freely, but it is also a test of our means to win their affections; their loyalty.” “And I will not fail,” he snaps. He and Thor stare at each other, unblinking, until his brother breaks first with a long, whittling sigh. “I hope you’re right, brother,” he says. “And be more careful, it would be unfortunate if you were to be undone by your own…passions, as usual.”

Heat prickles beneath Loki’s skin. “What would you know of my passions? Thor’s cape flutters as he turns, before glancing over his shoulder: ignoring him. “As much as it pains me, choosing Fandral as your partner for the Rite may be the wiser choice…it’s not too late. You know he already harbours those feelings for you – the deep ones the ritual requires. If there is any doubt, brother—”

“—There is no doubt,” Loki lies, fingernails digging in to the soft flesh of his palm. “I still have two moons until the ceremony– wars have been won in less.” He keeps his expression flat as Thor’s eyes soften. “If only love was as simple as war, brother,” he says in one of those rare displays of wisdom that make Loki want to punch him in the face. “She’s not one of us. I would say try not to break her heart, but it’s inevitable, is it not.” It isn’t a question. Loki swallows as his brother’s footsteps fade, glancing back to the golden door. He waves his hand, releasing the enchantment muffling the guard’s ears.

“Get her out of there,” he murmurs. “Escort her, offer my apologies; instruct her to change, and meet me in the gardens at sunrise.” "My prince, she will ask—" "—Sunrise," he snaps. A pain throbs behind his eyes.

The guard nods, and Loki tries to ignore the pulse of his heartbeat in his throat, and the unfamiliar itch of guilt spreading with every echoing thud of his boots around Asgard’s gilded halls.

Next Chapter: Illusion & Truth The Masterlist for The Rite is HERE Comments in tags ❤️ Plz be silly with me 🍰🥳

[milkteahood]

unmasked

Thomas Hewitt x fem!reader

Warning: smut! minors dni!!!

Summary: more smut. But with a plot. This wasn't supposed to be a smut, but of course it is. Because that's just how I am as a person.

Living with the Hewitt family wasn’t always easy, but it sure had its nice parts, and the nicest part was Thomas. Oh yes, the reason you were still alive today was simply being a decent person to Thomas. Which slowly progressed to more, finding yourself in this limbo of having a huge crush on him, while he was still keeping you at arm’s length.

It was very strange to fall in love with a man whose face you never saw. Yet here you were, catching yourself staring at him again. Even though he warmed up to you, Thomas was still caught off guard whenever he saw you staring, so you tried to do your best to avoid him seeing you. That of course didn’t always work and today was one of those days.

A couple of seconds passed before you realized he was looking back at you.

“O-oh! Sorry” you said, smiling at him.

He’s been around you long enough to know you weren’t being malicious, but he still didn’t know what to make of it, so he just nodded and turned back to what he was doing.

You mentally cursed yourself for making him feel awkward, not that you could’ve helped it. Your heart ached whenever he walked into the room, yet the fear of being rejected was enough to put you back in place.

I can’t just keep living like this you thought to yourself once you resumed to cleaning the potatoes Luda Mae told you to.

Be thankful you’re even alive.

***

At supper you tried your best to keep your eyes off of Thomas, only making small conversation here and there. He would listen, and nod, occasionally tilting his head to the side. Each time, making your heart skip a beat and your cheeks turn red. You blamed it on the weather and the soup.

After supper, you helped Luda Mae with cleaning the table.

“You know sweetheart, my Tommy might be naive, but I am not” she said.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to play dumb.

“Oh hush girl. I can see how red you get when you look at my Tommy. And I can tell he feels a certain way about you too”

You were so thankful she was old, because otherwise it would’ve been impossible not to hear your heart beat out of your chest.

“Just don’t break his heart”

“No. Never!” you protested before you realized what you just admitted to.

Luda Mae just smiled at you “you’re a very sweet girl. Go on now. I will finish here”.

And with that, you were rushing out to see what Thomas was up to.

You found him sitting on the staircase in front of the house.

“Hey Thomas!” you said, sitting down next to him.

He nodded to you, eyes softening at your sight.

“Did you have a good day?” you asked, earning yourself another nod. Thomas didn’t talk, but you did not mind. You’ve been around long enough to understand him.

“I can tell he feels a certain way about you too”. Luda Mae’s words echoed in your head, making you blush. Thomas tilted his head and pointed at your now very flushed cheek.

“I’m ok!” you tried to keep your cool “it’s just really hot still outside” you continued smiling. He seemed to take that.

“And since it’s so hot… say Thomas. Would you want to go hang out by the pond? I’m done with my chores”.

He just smiled at you from behind his mask and nodded his head.

***

“Oh come on Tommy! The water is amazing” you said, dress all wet because you didn’t care to take anything off.

Thomas tried to avoid your gaze, simply because his mama raised him better, and your dress became pretty see-through.

“Tommy? Are you alright?” you started to approach him.

Thomas lifted his hand, pointing at your dress. It took you a little to realize what he was trying to say, but once you looked down, a blush crept on your face. “Oh goodness”.

After he sighed, he took off his apron and handed it to you. You were swimming in it, and it was enough to cover yourself.

You knew Thomas wasn’t going to swim, he always preferred to hang out at the shore.

“It’s fine now Thomas” you chucked when he finally turned to face you. Both of you lay down on the grass, with you turning towards him. He was looking up at the sky, not seeming to notice you were looking at him.

“This is nice”

He glanced at you and grunted. This one meant yes.

“Isn’t it hard to always wear that mask Tommy? It’s so hot today”

He didn’t answer. But you could see him clenching his fists.

“I-I mean”

He turned his head to you, frowning.

“Sorry” you said and turned on your back. He turned away from you too.

“I just” just shut up. Don’t say it. Just don’t.

You looked at him. He was looking away.

With a sigh you decided that now was the moment.

“Whatever’s underneath that mask… it won’t change how I feel about you” you almost whispered the last part, but it was enough for him to hear.

Thomas turned his head towards you, eyes widen, looking confused and a little scared.

You just smiled and placed your hand over his. He tensed, but not for long.

“Even mama noticed” you said with a chuckle.

He looked at you for a while, and you were staring to get worried that you said something wrong, until he stood up, just enough to undo his leather mask. Yet he didn’t take it off, and he was no longer looking at you.

“Tommy?”

He didn’t respond, and while he was holding his mask up with one hand and his other was clenched in a fist, you were worried you might’ve upset him by pushing him into this.

“Thomas. It’s alright” you said, taking his hand in both yours “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to”.

When his eyes finally met yours, you could clearly see the pain in them, and something else. You could see a little bit of hope.

He sighed and finally let go of his mask. He was looking down, completely avoiding your gaze. You could swear his eyes almost popped out of his head when you cupped his face, got on his lap, smiled and called him handsome. His whole body tensed up at your words, almost not wanting to believe you.

“You’re so beautiful Thomas Hewitt” you repeated yourself, this time with an even bigger smile.

Meanwhile, Thomas was completely frozen. Were you making fun of him? But you looked so genuine. How could you be? Did it really matter? No. Not when your touch was so soft and you were smiling at him like that.

He finally snapped out of his trance when you kissed him.

He didn’t know what to do, but it didn’t take long for him to start kissing you back. It was inexperienced and needy and full of buildup emotions on both sides. His hands shyly rested on your waist, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, hands tugging at his hair as the kiss got more and more intense.

He started feeling your back up and down, while you pressed against him harder, earning yourself a moan when you brushed yourself against the bulge in his pants.

Both of you pulled away and just looked at the other for a while. Then, with a confidence you didn’t think you’d see with him, he pulled you into another kiss, holding the back of your head.

He worked on your clothes while you worked on his, neither wanting to break the kiss more than you needed to.

He then flipped you over and once he was on top, he stopped again, just looking and admiring you. Your hands exploded his chest while you kissed his neck, turning him into a moaning mess. He was intoxicated by your every touch.

Feeling his erection against your inner thigh made you moan.

“You can do whatever you want to me Tommy” you said while wrapping your arms around his neck.

He just whimpered, nuzzling your neck.

“It’s alright Thomas, I want you” you said gently stroking his hair.

He nodded against your neck before kissing you again.

You helped him adjust himself and before you knew it, he was sliding inside, both of you moaning into the other’s mouth.

The pace started slow, Thomas was holding your waist with one hand and using the other to support himself.

“Oh fuck… just like that” you moaned, nails digging into his back now.

The more you moaned, the more he slammed harder and faster into you. His face was buried in your hair, taking in your scent which was slowly driving him off the edge.

He was hitting all the right places, slamming into you so hard you knew you would have trouble walking afterward.

You knew he was getting closer because his pace became more and more erratic.

“Oh fuck Tommy, cum with me, please please cum with me”.

That was enough to drive him over the edge and with a few more deep thrusts he came, making your eyes roll back while you chased your own high.

Both of you stayed like that for a while, neither wanting to move. Thomas made sure not to let his entire weight over you, while you ran your fingers through his hair and planted kisses on his forehead.

“I love you Tommy”.

His eyes widened, and he looked like he just saw a ghost. The sight was endearing and it caused you to chuckle.

“I really do” you continued.

His lower lip twitched, and he immediately squeezed you close to him, making you smile even more. You knew he felt the same. There was no need for him to say anything.

***

The sky was full of stars as you made your way back to the house. Slowly, making sure not to disturb anyone, you made your way towards Tommy’s room. You gave him another kiss in the doorway before waking in, and finally getting to sleep in the arms of your now lover.