#and the few times they tried it on snakes

[tbaluver]

hiyaa! can i request scenarios with the lads boys where MC flashes them in the middle of an argument >< also love your writing so much!! it's actually giving me inspiration to go back to writing myself adjhsfhlds

Flashing Them During An Argument- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x fem! reader, zayne x fem! reader, rafayel x fem! reader, sylus x fem! reader, caleb x fem! reader tags: slightly suggestive, not so serious argument, silly a/n: hihi anonnie! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ omg thank you so much you're so sweet my angel (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ and you def should whenever you can! i hope i get to read whatever you create or hear your ideas ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ ) also i swear someone req this too and i dont know if im imagining it or i just cant find it(╥﹏╥) anyways i hope this was alright and that you enjoy reading!! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ ty to my beta reader MWAH @ilovemitsuya any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

GOOD GOOGLY MOOGLY

You two had been going back and forth for what felt like hours, trying to decide on what to eat for dinner. Every suggestion he gave was close enough to what you were craving but either it was too far or you just didn’t like the area it was in

The stores were closing soon and you both still couldn’t agree and the frustration was creeping in. Before he gives another suggestion and tries to persuade you, you cut him off by lifting up your shirt with nothing underneath. He didn’t even hesitate, his eyes immediately dropping and feasting on the soft mounds that sit oh so perfectly. He doesn’t even remember what restaurants he suggested, he just knew how enticing they looked.

“So..let’s go to my restaurant?”

“huh..?” He blinked a few times, his gaze still locked on the now covered skin but he can still catch a glimpse of your nipples peeking through your shirt. “oh yeah..sure..” He trails off, his mind completely consumed by how soft they looked.

“okay! let’s get- Xavier!” Before you could even get up, he gently pins you back down, his needy hands snaking up into your shirt.

Zayne:

It started when you gently told him he should get ready to go to bed, it was already getting late. You loved your boyfriend deeply and you admired his passion and dedication to his work but it was clear that he was pushing himself too hard again. He promised he’d finish this last report and he’ll join you later but that was exactly what he said after the last five reports.

You could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the deep bags beneath them. All the signs of his late night shifts, back to back operations, and countless hours of overtime in the past few days showed. His eyes fluttered shut just for a second, begging to stay closed, only for them to open again as he tried to push through.

You approached him again, urging him to go to bed. You told him he was being stubborn and how those reports could wait but of course, he countered back saying that you didn’t need to stay up and wait for him and that you should be getting some rest too.

The two of you went back and forth for a few minutes. But before he delivers another witty comeback, you lifted up your shirt, immediately silencing him. His eyes travel from your face down to your soft breast, losing his original train of thought and thought about how they sit so perfectly to him. They don’t linger for too long as he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

Zayne tries to regain his thoughts and you fail to notice the small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he shakes his head. “Just..” He sighs, “...Please, you don’t need to wait for me,” He said softly, standing up from his chair as he approached you. “I suppose I’m overdue for a long needed rest then right?” He whispers, his hands sneaking up inside your shirt.

Rafayel:

You were late, again. The mission took longer than expected and you already knew that Rafayel would be upset when you got home and sure enough, you were right. He didn’t bother to greet you the moment you stepped inside the house. His back was turned to you, ‘focused’ on his sketching. All the responses you got a dismissive “hmph” and a side pout that you’re clearly familiar with.

You gave him a moment to cool off as you slipped into something more comfortable, peeling off your hunter’s uniform before approaching him again. This time, you made an effort to apologize in front of him but he pretended you weren’t even there. “Huh..Do I have some bubbles in my ear? I swear I heard something..” He mumbles, pretending there was absolutely no one in front of him.

This escalates into you two having a back and forth, explaining how your phone died so you couldn’t text him and his responses were rather sarcastic, saying how fishes would’ve started walking on land before you’d ever show up on time. Both of you were exhausted, frustration bubbled inside of you as you paced around, groaning. In a last attempt to get his attention, you stepped back in front of him, lifting your shirt up without a word to flash your breasts in front of him.

His eyes widened, his breath hitching as his gaze slowly trails down. “You-” He shakes his head, fighting back his mind that’s screaming FLASH ME AGAIN. He’s trying to stay strong but unfortunately this sea god is not the strongest soldier when it comes to you. “Oh yeah? Well two can play that game cutie!” He huffs, tugging at the waistband of his pants.

Sylus:

He wouldn’t tell you a thing about his new mission and it was bothering you. How far was it going to be? Who was going to be involved? Nothing. He refused to budge, his lips sealed tighter than usual. Every time you asked, he deflected with vague answers. Every time you offered to help, he would tell you it's alright and that he has everything handled.

“It’s just a short trip.”

But you knew better that a short trip doesn’t involve secrecy. It was probably bigger than that. The tension between you was growing, both of you refusing to give in. But before he could even hint at how dangerous his short trip might be, you lift your shirt up, cutting him off mid sentence. It was a last and desperate attempt for sure to regain his attention, your boobs falling out and flashing Sylus in all it's glory.

His eyes widened for a moment, an amused smirk tugged at his lips as he watched you slowly lower it back down. “Oh? Is this your new counterattack?” He teases, inching closer to you. “I think one move isn’t going to easily take me down. What do you think?” His long fingers twirl the hem of your shirt teasingly. “Amuse me with more and I might just give in.”

Caleb:

clean up on aisle caleb’s pants!

You definitely caught him off-guard from the way his eyes shamelessly looked down immediately the moment you lifted up your shirt to reveal your exposed skin. The way you cut him off his sentence as he almost chokes on his own saliva.

“um..umm..” He stammered, attempting to look at you but his eyes betray him, flickering back down to your exposed skin. He fought the urge, his gaze shifting up and down but he was unable to tear his eyes away, his cock twitching in his pants. 

What was the argument even about? He doesn’t even remember what he said to you a few minutes ago and he doesn’t even remember what color your pants were. He didn’t even notice that you’d already lowered your hands, his gaze burning through the thin fabric as his mind lingered on the bare skin he’d seen. His thoughts of kneading your breasts were cut off when you called out to him.

“Can we do it Caleb?” His eyes snap back up to meet yours, the hypnotizing sight of your exposed skin covered and his mind slowly return back to reality.

“Of course, we can do it anytime pipsqueak,” He replies, a soft smile on his lips, completely unaware of what he'd agreed to. You could’ve signed him up for a cilantro eating contest and he’d win just for you. Whatever you want and say, he’ll do it for you.

[sobbingscripter]

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋💙་༘Neighbours˚˖𓍢ִ💙.ִ࿐

Tags: [frank castle][mdni][mlw][just porn, no plot][literally a tester][something I'm typing while waiting for my food][lil drabble][analingus][squirting][doggy style][mating press][side fuck][there's a few other things he does that I don't know how to word]

A test drabble requested by @lucky-beheaded and @v1tale

Something, something about being Frank Castle's little personal nurse.

You're his neighbour, sharing the shitty little apartment building with the broken windows and the rusted burglar bars, peeling paint and rattling doorframes.

Obviously he's got a better furnished, and nicer warehouse but he's got quite a bit of business in this area, and Frank's not a man, if he doesn't care for his convenience and his time.

And it's not uncommon that when he's out punishing, he gets a little bruise or two, and comes to you to treat even the smallest little cuts.

Frank refuses to admit that it's because of your company and lies, saying he's trying to avoid the infections.

Frank's only willing to admit he likes your company when you're fucked out on your sofa, legs dangling aimlessly from broad, muscled shoulders, and your fingers limply interlaced behind his neck, manicured fingers snaking into the cropped hair and dragging along his scalp.

Frank's hips snap meanly, his face buried in your neck and hot pants of breath fan across the curve of your shoulder, his chest presses against yours and you can feel that delicious tuft of inky hair brush against your clit so teasingly when his hips grind into yours. You feel that flushed, rotund tip bruise that sweet gummy spot that has your toes curling beside either ear, your eyes rolling back and Frank's teeth scrape against your skin, leaving the faintest of marks because as much as he wants to, he can't fuck you into being his.

You're a classy girl. Good dates, good conversation is necessary instead of the usual grunts and murmured 'fuck you's that leave his lips.

But that doesn't mean he's above trying. In fact, he's so far below trying, that he has his cock bumping against your insides in a way that's as unkind as things can get.

A burly, tornado of a man, deep steely eyes staring into your pretty, half-lidded gaze, watching the way tears brim on your lower lashline, your nails scraping against his back, crossing out the scars left behind from the life he lives.

"Eyes on me, gorgeous."

Frank breathes out, hands shifting and hips slowing to a grinding halt, carved pelvis poking into the slightest chub of his belly, muscular thighs on either side of you and he groans.

The scent of liquor and minty toothpaste lingers on his tongue, but you're more preoccupied with the way the wet muscle licks up the perspiration that dots your skin.

Staring from the valley between your breasts and all the way up to the hollow beneath your ear.

And Frank whispers, like a fucking dream incarnate.

"Let me fuck a baby into you, dollface."

One slow pull back of his hips has you feeling each fucking inch, veins dragging against gummy walls and his hands move to your thigh, moving it to rest alongside it's partner on his other shoulder, before Frank comes closer, pressing the sloppiest and messiest kiss against your lips. Swallowing the gasp you let out when he stretches you out once again, and the thrusts are slow, painfully tantalizing as he grabs a handful of your ass, pulling you closer to meet each of his movements.

But Frank's not a gentle man.

He hasn't been in a long time and you're barely coherent when he begins to fuck into you like a man in heat, blunt nails digging into the cellulite of your thighs, dragging over stretch marks as he tries to palm as much as he can. He's desperate.

An orgasm far too close but it's not enough. It's just not enough.

Hips snap, your asscheeks feel like they're on fire and you nearly gasp when you're tossed onto your stomach, powerful hands hooked at your hips and pulling you back to meet his brutal movements. Frank watches, marvelling at the ripple of plush cheeks bouncing off the carved flesh of his hips, one hand pressing down at the dip in your spine, forcing your arch to deepen and the other moving to rest on one fleshy mound.

Spreading you open, only to spit down at where your furled entrance sits so pretty and undisturbed and Frank groans.

"Put your pretty fingers where the sun don't shine, gorgeous. Wanna see—... You fuck yourself..."

You nod weakly, drool slipping down your kiss swollen lips as one of your hands snake between your thighs and Frank's hips snap particularly harshly, the painful nudge of his thick, mushroom-y tip makes you gasp sharply.

"Not there, dollface." He hums, the hand on your cheek shifting ever so slightly, his calloused thumb brushing over your hole so teasingly. "Here."

You feel the wind leave your lungs, cheeks flushing even deeper and you nod your head so weakly, so shyly.

As you pop off the press-on on your middle finger, wetting your finger before reaching behind you.

Your digit pushes past the resistance, muscle tensed and tight around your finger but you persevere until your second knuckle from the base of your finger. And you're full.

You've never fucked yourself like this.

You've never been fucked like this.

Guess it really takes a man who has jack shit to live for, to make you squirt, soaking the cushions of your couch from the intensity. It's so depraved.

Sensations so fucking vivid that not even your sleep deprived mind could come up with fantasies that are half as amazing as the way Frank fucks you into oblivion.

You don't know how many orgasms you've had, you don't know when you started crying or even drooling but God, you don't wanna stop.

You feel a cool emptiness fill your core when Frank pulls out so abruptly, and you peek at him lazily, bleary eyes watching as he positions himself behind you. And you whine, shoving your face in the armrest as you feel his squirmy, salivating tongue dragging through your folds, all the way up to where your fingers thrust lazily into your ass.

And Frank pushes your hand away, muscular fingers digging into the fleshy mounds and he spreads you open in the most whorish way you could imagine.

And his tongue fucking pushes into you, and your brows furrow, nails clawing at the cushions and you nearly scream when he hikes your knee to rest on the backrest of the sofa.

And you feel like you're some kind of fucking dog, pissing on a hydrant when he fucks three, thick fingers into your weepy and overstimulated cunt.

Frank pants, dark eyes hazy and bleary. And all he's focused on, is making you a puddle of what you once were.

"I'm not fucking stopping." Frank breathes out, his voice a low, husky groan that has your insides twisting and turning.

"Not stopping until you're squirting yourself to dehydration."

[vifilms]

III. CHARMED IS THE SNAKE

❝ ABBY!ANDERSON SERIES ❞

pairing. camgirl!abby x bestfriend!reader

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: camgirl!abby, switch!abby, lowkey dom!reader towards the end, dry humping, high!sex, nerdy abby being an absolute cutie.

...AND THEY WERE ROOMATES, she’s always been just abby to you. best friends and thick as thieves. sweet as can be, breathing shy naivety with each one she takes — a walking angel on earth. a gentle reminder of what’s good but looks can be so convincing….can’t they?

rayray rambles. to be honest, i didn’t know if i was ever gonna find enough motive to continue this series but thanks to @cheyisagirlkisser sevika post. we press on. sorry y’all had to wait four months but here you go ♡

wc. 5k+

The stainless steel bleachers bite into your skin, the thin material of your trousers can feel it in the cool autumn breeze. The screaming chants of the student section is piercing to the eardrum but Abby likes it. She says it’s the reminder of fall season springing in full. The change of foliage, the cooler weather attempting to kiss layered skin. Abby has always basked in this time of year. 

Pumpkin spice lattes she could drink by the gallon, the subtle decorating when autumn hits. Deep and light browns, an orange hue your eyes could stomach, corny little pieces of suburban art she’s collected over the years, a soft edge to make your shared apartment feel more like home. 

As corny as it is, and the hell you would give her each year she spent late hours of the night decorating, you never once complained about it. You took stride in how cozier it felt. Abby’s warmth has a tendency to send you into a frenzy, a punch to your gut and a token of her love sewn amorously in your heart. 

With some popcorn from the concession stand, the paper bag of popcorn in her lap as she takes the space between your legs, letting hers hang to the next riser below her.

Thankfully, for Abby’s case, the seats are good enough for a decent view. You keep catching yourself watching her as she watches the game. The game didn’t really seem all that interesting to you but every time Abby’s eyes lit up when the stadium roared, the band playing the university song, she looked up at you to see if you saw it. 

Gently, you’d offer her a small smile. 

It’s how you noticed the subtle shiver of her body, her bare arms in particular, the jacket she opted out of because she was convinced she wouldn’t be cold. 

Liar. 

“You’re cold. Aren’t you?” 

“No….” 

“I’ll be right back.” Abby has a tight grip on your hand, a silent plea for you not to leave. 

“I promise no more than five minutes.” 

You kiss her hand sweetly before making the walk to your vehicle, thoughts of the past few weeks raging within you.

Things with Francesca have been easy, fun, you didn’t have to be consumed by Abby. Francesca didn’t care if you moaned another woman’s name. Apparently if she came, she can handle the infatuation you have with the nerdy blonde plaguing your dreams.

Nightmares?

The more your try to decipher the more you feel Abby swarming in your gut.

At times, when the frustration builds, she tries to make cheap shots at Abby but the minute you nip it in the bud Francesca leaves it alone. She doesn’t mention Abby, or how you moan her name every five minutes. Tragically, it doesn’t stop Francessca from letting her mind wander. 

How deep in it are you that you’re unable to moan the name of the women you’re sleeping with? Do you think of Abby the entire time? What the fuck is she even doing with you? Do you see blue instead of hazel when you’re with her?

All logical thoughts vacate her mind when she sings praises on your tongue, exploring every inch of her cunt, savoring every last drop she has to offer before flipping Francesca on her stomach and sending her into another dimension.

After countless times, it always ends the same, you washing up before you’re leaving without another word spoken. You’re still kind to her, you talk to her when Abby isn’t around but when she is, it’s like Francesca doesn’t exist. 

It’s a catastrophic dig to her ego. 

She’s fucking Francesca Fernandez. 

Francesca is the one to fantasize about, the one to lust after, the one you think about with a buzzing vibrator tucked between your thighs in the middle of the night. She’s always the one, yet she’s fighting for an ounce of your attention when you’re not in her bed. Desperately, she wants what she can’t have, it just so happens to be you. There’s nothing she craves more than you, and she wants you to want her in every possible way. 

It’s just your luck really, running into her as you removed yourself from Abby, locking your car with Abby’s jacket in your grip. Of course she would be right behind you. 

“Well, isn’t this a coincidence?” With a sly grin, she places a hand on your chest, toying with the buttons on your collared shirt. With each second passing, her lidded-gaze and siren hazels give you a reason to stay in the moment with her. 

“Francesca.” 

“Hm, you should sound happier to see me.” She teases, faking a pout as she plays with your belt before gently removing her hands from you, but not without her manicured fingernail scraping a sliver of exposed skin along the way. 

“Can we not do this right now?” You bite.

“Oh.” Francesca chuckles bitterly. “You’re with her right now, aren’t you?” 

“With my friend, yes.” 

Friend. 

The platonic term tastes bitter in your mouth and sounds just as awful to Francesca. For different reasons entirely.

Contentment for one and steaming hot jealousy for the other. You could be having the best sex of your life and you would still think of her.

The budding feelings get bigger the more you shove them down, she looks up at you through her blonde eyelashes, the soft pout permanently on her lips as she looks at you with a gentle wonder in her gaze and you find yourself falling off the edge of a cliff. 

It’s not lost on you how you wait on Abby hand and foot, doing anything she wants, whenever she wants. The complete disregard of anyone else’s needs except hers. It terrifies you to no end how easy it is for you. At a drop of hat, you would drop anyone if it pleases her. You see it. Francesca sees it. The only person who doesn’t is Abby. 

“Really? Hm, crazy for me to think otherwise when you’re moaning her name every time I make you come.” Francesca snaps but there’s still a smirk on her stunning face. 

“Fran—” 

“What baby?” She smiles as you release a frustrated groan. Francesca leans in and leaves a kiss on your cheek. “Don’t worry. I won’t ruin your night with her. Just come by and see me tomorrow. We both know you’ll be there anyway and it’ll make us even.” 

Just like that, she’s gone as she joins her friends who were waiting for her by the front gate. You thank god she’s leaving you alone, rejoining Abby in the stands. Her body shivers as she sees you, internally sighing as she sees her jacket in your grip. 

“Had a feeling you were gonna need it.” You help her get into it as she thanks you quietly, a crimson blush on her cheeks. Abby knows your endearing gesture has made her blush but you blame it on the cold. 

That’s it.  

She sits next to the empty space next to you, cuddling into your side, wrapping your arm around her as you keep Abby close to you. She makes a stupid joke, making you laugh in the process, looking at you with stars in her eyes. Giving her a gentle kiss at her temple. Intently, you listen to her ramble on about the game. She’s as beautiful as the sunset, perfectly saturated as her blue eyes shine in the orange hue of the fading sun — that’s how you see her. 

The depth of her beauty puts aphrodite’s to shame. 

Time moves by quickly while you’re with her, it always seems to, and tonight you wish you could just put a pause and stay in the moment. Trying to recite every detail to memory. Every single one you desperately need ingrained in your mind. The loose strand coming out of her braid, or the way she intertwined her fingers with yours as she squeezes your hand tightly, the budding nerves as the other team scores again, closing in on your college state team. It’s then you realize how done for you are.

You need it all to stop, achingly so. 

The rapid heartbeat in your chest, crying for something, you’re not sure on how to deserve someone like Abby. Even if she did harbor what you felt for her, there’s no guarantee it would work.

It’s easier to suffer in silence so you do.

The game comes into an end as Abby holds onto you as you navigate through the crowd. Opening the passenger side as Abby settles into the vehicle. A few moments later, you’re waiting for the heat to warm up, as you remove your thick coat, dispensing the wool to the backseat. 

“Have you eaten today?” 

Abby chews at her nails, ignoring you. It’s midterms and she hates eating when she’s stressed. The churning in the pit of her stomach is already there. No need to aggravate it any further. 

“Miller’s Diner it is then.” 

“But—” 

“Have you eaten, sweet girl?” 

Abby tries not to blush but it’s nearly impossible. She wants to be fond of the name but you throw it around so carelessly, Abby wonders if it means anything at all or if you call everyone sweet little pet names that fly off your tongue before they can be caught. Not that it matters much anyways. There’s a tickling need, nestled in where she needs you most, wishing for it to be the truth.

“Fine but I don’t have to be happy about it.” 

—

Vintage and heavily inspired by the holy decade of the 80s, the blue neon sign at the front is the clear indication where it pulls its origin from. The seasoned staff practically knows the two of you, regulars of Miller’s Diner. Angela, the waitress who is typically your server, came right up to you, asking if y’all would be having your regular order before she disappeared to the back of the kitchen for a few moments. 

Abby notices the smallest of things, the details, it’s always been in her nature.

From the moment she was born, well at least to her it seemed to be that way, she likes things to be a certain way. A pattern to follow and shape her life. Small stepstones to guide her into the life she wants, even who she wants to be, every single minute attribute accounted for.

She enjoys folding her clothes a certain way in her drawer, the clothes in her closet color coordinated without one straying from the pattern, and even her bed made to perfection every morning. The simple things, her day to day tasks, always kept in order to make everything else blend seamlessly. 

But on the other hand, she never could have accounted for you. 

Desperately, she tries to latch onto control, but it slinks away from her fingertips, making a mockery of her lack of restraint but you’re the only one who sees, the only one who pays attention — the only soul on this godforsaken planet who gives a damn about her. It’s hard not to fall for your sparkling eyes as you talk about your newest passion, giggling when you're oh so expressive with your hands, trying to get your point across. Abby tries not to stare at them for too long, but the pretty rings accentuating them makes them look even more inviting.

“Are you even listening?” 

“Umm…uh…yes?” Abby stutters but it comes out more as a question. 

All you can do is laugh and she joins you — her giggle showing glimmers of sonic sunshine.

Biting your lip as you wet your lips, fidgeting with the ring on your thumb as you twist the piece of sterling silver with the other. This is how you always want to see her, bubbly, light, care free without prying eyes trying to judge her. When she comes crying, sniffling quietly when someone who she thought was her friend was only trying to get to you. The familiar sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach creating a home. 

In fear, she nearly rips the foundation out. 

Abby thinks about it more often than she’d like to admit. How it must feel to be the object of everyone's affection. With her thick sweaters, her glasses, her boring, lifeless blonde hair she never finds herself on the receiving end. Besides one bad hook up, one she’s too drunk to remember, no one lingers on her stupidly round face and freckled cheeks. There isn’t much to look at when you see her. 

It’s idiotic to think you’d ever go for someone like her, not when you have Francesca. Perfectly feminine with a body everyone dreams of, locks of chocolate so shiny it rivals the richest of silks. Not to mention she carries herself with a confidence Abby deeply envies. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where you’ve spending your free time. Especially since she saw you at the party together, sucking each other’s faces off. 

Abby wants to ask about her but she fears it’s her overstepping, so she stays silent as she digs into the french toast and poached eggs Angela brought. 

“Is it good?” 

“Yeah, just like always.” 

With a beautiful smile directed towards her, Abby’s heart almost can’t take it, before you’re digging back into your omelet.

The two of you eat in silence, finishing your meal as you pay for the meal, taking small sips of your coffee. It’s a comfortable silence until you look at her through hooded eyes, like you’re dying to ask something, it’s bleeding out of you like an open wound. Abby knows you.

You’re being careful, quiet, even more so — apprehensive. 

It’s been like this for weeks, dancing around her and Abby has not a clue why. The game has changed and she doesn’t have a clue how to get herself back in. 

“I’ve been seeing Francesca.” 

The admittal isn’t what Abby expects. She knows something has been weighing on you, but she doesn’t see the tension in your shoulder flee, in fact, it seems like it only gets worse. Abby watches as you crane your neck to the side, almost as if you’re dancing around what you really wanna say, as if you’re not sure you should say it. 

“Is there a problem with that?” Abby questions. 

“Not necessarily.” 

The blonde feels like she’s being watched, carefully gauging her reaction to being with someone else. As if she’s supposed to feel anything but happiness for her friend. Even if she let her jealousy show at the party, Abby won’t make the same mistake twice. She’s happy for you, no matter what, Abby will always be happy for you. 

She doesn’t have a choice. 

“Well, I hope there isn’t. Everyone needs someone. I’m happy you found someone.” 

Either she’s a really good liar or you’ve been reading into it too much. 

“Yeah, right.” You curtly nod, arms crossed over your chest as you watch Abby squirm under your gaze. 

It’s not anything new but you can practically smell her nerves, radiating off her like the pheromones you want to eat. It’s not her fault you can’t stop think about her mesmerizing pussy, the way her hips moved in sync with the rest of her body, how she fucks herself like that day was her last, the shivers no doubtedly crawling up her spine as she came on the dildo beneath her. 

Nearly a month later and you thought of it everyday. 

You think of her every day. 

Fuck, you really don’t want to.

Sweet and lovable, Abby Anderson, the cute adorable nerd you met who nearly cried when you accidentally knocked her glasses over and managed to step on the lense at the same time. You insisted on paying for it, but all you had your freshman year of college was twenty bucks to your name before your next paycheck deposits into your bank account so you promised a lunch instead. 

Even though Abby could barely see you, no one has ever shown her kindness, not like that. When you hung out for the second time, watching movies in Abby’s dorm room, she could see you clearly and fuck were you everything and more. Since then, the two of you have been inseparable. Your girlfriends came and went over the years, but Abby remains here with you. 

Two semesters away from your entire life changing, and possibly not having Abby in it. She’s the only sense of stability you’ve had during the past three years. Truly, you don’t understand how anyone hasn’t snatched her up, now more than ever, you’re scared someone will. 

Abby clearly gives no fucks on who you’re fucking. 

Even with how attached she’s been lately, maybe that’s all this is, a slightly co-dependent friendship. It’s pitiful how you want her to be jealous. You basically baited her into giving you a fit of rage, perhaps a deadly gaze of unrelenting rage caught like a hurricane about to come hurling towards the shore but she took the golden route. 

Abby’s truly as good as you thought she was, filming herself getting off aside, this is still the same girl who cries from watching wrestling when a wrestler gives an emotional promo. She’s dorky, a soft spirit you’re sure not a single soul deserves. 

Especially you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, I’m good.” 

“No, you’re not. You have the same scowl on your face you had when you found out Roxy cheated on you with Blayke.” 

You laugh bitterly at the memory before saying, “Well, Blayke is a fucking cunt. That’s why.” 

“See, you’re upset about something. It’s easier if you just tell me so I can help you.” 

You feel cornered, trapped under the weight of her gaze, those fucking haunting blue eyes looking at you as if they don’t see you clearly but they do. She could tell you what you’re feeling before you’re even sure yourself. The downfall of being around someone for so long…you sometimes know them better than themselves.

With a regretful heart, you wish you said nothing. When Abby clings onto you, it’s clear as day but when you need self-assurance you like to manipulate the conversation until you get it. Abby isn’t letting that happen. A matter of fact, she’s quite insistent on it. 

“I can’t really talk about this.” 

Yeah, let me just tell you that I keep moaning your name when Francesca makes me cum. 

“It’s okay. You can tell me when you’re ready.” 

Abby doesn’t push as you finish your coffee. The drive back home is silent but you hear her nervously tapping the screen of her phone. The dress she wore tonight was different.

Usually, she doesn’t dress so feminine but every once in a while she does and it drives you further into insanity. The stupid short dress rides up more, her toned thighs look delicious enough to bite into. You want to bite her, paint her thighs in possession, it doesn’t help when she rubs them together. 

Fuck, it really doesn’t. 

You fear her sole purpose is to torture you as she crosses her toned legs, as you halt at a red light, looking down for only a moment and you see a sliver of pink lace. Part of you can’t help but think she’s doing this on purpose.

She has to be, right?

Every part of her consumes you, the harder you try to let go you feel her make home in the corners of her mind, feasting on your flesh as if every inch of your skin is hers to claim. 

Your free hand makes a makeshift fist as you attempt to stop yourself from touching her warm skin. It's delicious, divine, trapped in the abyss of your mind, putting the park in drive, running to the other side and helping her out of your truck. Abby grabs your hand, as she tumbles too quickly, losing her footing as her frame crashes into yours. 

“Oh—” 

To stop herself from falling, she places a hand on your chest, palm laying flat on your chest. Your heartbeat picks up from her touch but she’s quick to move away, walking to the main lobby as she leaves you in the dust. 

Right. 

Once you’re in the elevator side by side, her vanilla scent makes you light-headed with an unbending lust. The more she ignores you, the more you want her — the more you think of that night. It stays on the forefront of your mind, anytime you look at her, it’s there. Tormenting you as you hope for something out of reach, unattainable. 

Fuck, it kills you. 

Abby is your friend. Abby is your best friend. Abby is a friend. 

You try to convince yourself you didn’t say you were seeing Francesca for a specific reaction. Maybe you have become just as toxic as the person you’re sleeping with. Why are you trying to wreak havoc on the best relationship you have? The most sustainable relationship within your grip, and with just one idiotic sentence, you’ve shattered it to bits. 

Abby fishes for the key, dispensing it in the woven bowl on the entry table. It’s late in the evening as she  whispers goodnight so soft you almost miss it. The unspoken distance still remains, making the two of you drift further apart. She’s as sweet as honey but if you have her in the way you’re dying to, you won’t ever be able to take it back. 

You’re not sure you would be able to live with yourself if she changed herself for you. Everything about her is why you’re fighting yourself so much — you would ruin her. At least you don’t have to think about it for the night, you take a shower hoping it will clear your mind, but it doesn’t really. You see flashes of blonde hair with darkened roots, the cheek on her scar she hates so much but you love. 

Sometimes, like tonight, you wish you could just fuck her and it would all be done. Abby could be out of your system, just one night of depravity, bending her to your will, making her cunt weep for you as she gushes around your fingers. A whimpering and moaning mess — maybe that’s all you need. Just one stupid, inescapable night. 

But is that really what you want? 

Just one night? 

A fog settles over your mind and it's welcome. Ridding yourself of the impossible weight of your affection for Abby, you aren’t crumbling over the fact you can’t have her or that you want her so terribly bad sometimes you think about whimpering right in front of her. Or the times Francesca has wanted to come over, right now you might say yes, just so Abby could hear what you really moan out when you sleep with her. 

Why can’t she just end your suffering? 

“Can I join you?” 

There she is. As if she could sense your crumbling wall, she’s come down to rip it to shreds. Truthfully, if she wanted to, it really wouldn’t take much, especially tonight. You’re crying for her basically, your legs spread as you sit on the couch on the terrace. Of course, she’s just wearing a baby blue silk robe, you wonder if there’s anything underneath the treasured silk or if she’s as bare as that night. 

You nod as she moves towards you but Abby doesn’t do what you’re exactly expecting. Freshly showered, hair slightly damp as it smells of lilies and vanilla, her strong and sculpted thighs land on top of you as she straddles you into the soft gray cushions. Long, golden strands cascade forward as they frame your face with a delicate touch. 

You're frozen, partially with fear but now you know she isn’t wearing anything else. More importantly, you feel her damp cunt on your thigh, your fucking thigh. 

Shit.

What the fuck.  

“What are you doing?” You take another hit of your blunt, not sure why you’re even asking her. This is what you wanted, right? All your dreams, those twisted fantasies you couldn’t escape from, not even if you tried. All of them could become true as she throws herself at you. 

Not really what you had in mind but you’re too weak to push her off. Even if your mind was telling you it was the right thing, your heart is incapable of listening to anything else. Not a damn thing but this woman before you. All you see is her, a muse you can’t escape. Summers at your family's beach house, one you promised to take her too once summer is traded in for spring next year. 

“Finding a seat. You don’t mind, do you?” 

“No. I don’t.” 

You rest your hands on her soft hips, the pad of your thumb tracing circles into the silk, Abby feels your touch practically burn her skin. Tonight, she decides she enjoys the feeling. 

Maybe you had it all wrong. 

Abby is jealous. Even if a deeper part of you knows this isn’t a good idea, you’re not good enough for her, you never will be.

And there’s Francesca to deal with.

Worries of Fran get snuffed out when Abby’s straddling your hips in nothing but a silk robe concealing her beautiful curves and refined muscles. As the ache in your stomach builds, you want to pull at the tie, you want to see all of her. 

Fuck, you are so screwed. 

“You don’t know what to do with yourself, do you?” Abby softly grinds her hips into you, repositioning herself so her pelvis is touching yours, making you whimper out before you can even stop yourself. 

“U-Uh, um—” You try to stammer off, you try to say something but she just keeps moving her hips, the friction of her pussy ghosting over your clothed one has you thinking this is just a dream again. One you’ll awake from at any moment. You have to. 

This can’t be real. 

This isn’t really happening. 

“You wanna see me again, don’t you? I can make you feel good again but only if you let me.” 

Again? Again? What the fuck does she mean again? 

“Abs,” You pause as she places the palm of her hand at the base of your throat, keeping you firmly in her hold. This is who you saw on the fateful night, pink and fluttering cunt taking what she could around her cunt. It’s everything you wanted that night, this. 

Albeit, you wanted to be the one choking her, fucking her, tasting her, but this you would take but still you wanted to know how she felt. Without your filthy mouth tainting what she wants.

“You’re gonna have to be a little more specific.” 

“The night you made a mess in your boxers watching me fuck myself. Is that specific enough for you?” 

Shit. 

“You saw me?” 

“Through my window, watched you the whole time. How’d you like the show?” 

“I—” But you can’t speak, biting on your tongue, as you try to collect your thoughts. 

“Well, I guess we both know how much you came to like it.” Abby grins as she applies more pressure, her forehead falls against yours, her hand remaining on your throat keeping you in place. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I thought you were in pain, I figured you were just groaning in pain and I just, um, I dunno—” 

The control is slipping from you, easier than you would like it to, but if one thing is clear — Abby is a vixen — and it’s painfully obvious. How you never noticed before and she’s been right under your nose the entire time.

Innocent Abby, the nerdy girl no one looks twice at and right now? She’s making you look. 

Not that you weren’t already. You’re only upset with yourself for not seeing it sooner. She’s enjoying each moment, watching you squirm as you’ve made her countless times. At one point, Abby believed it to be your favorite pastime. For once, she’s going to enjoy this. 

Anxiously, you lick your lips, focusing on hers as she leans in closer, so close you feel her minty breath ghosting over your lips. Haunting your every breath, her presence intertwined with your existence, you wonder if you’ll ever be able to remove it. 

“Yeah baby, is that right? Wanted to save me and be my knight in shining armor?” She whispers, her honey-dew voice glides over you and you're throbbing for her. Dazed, you find yourself reeking of desperation. 

“S-Something like t-t-that, yeah.” Stuttering like a hormonal teenager, you finally managed to get a complete sentence out. Abby grinds her hips again, a soft rhythm being delivered, and with hopeless wishes you try to stop yourself from moaning. 

“Take another hit, yeah?” But her voice is stern, giving you no room to disobey her. 

Your hips buck at Abby giving you orders. But you do as you're told and so does your reluctance against telling her to take a minute. An increasingly impressionable challenge as she applies more pressure against you. Her hips move just like that night, but Abby seems persistent on making you feel good. 

“Tell me what you remember from that night.” Another order. Another second away from coming in your boxers, again. 

“I remember,” You bite your lip, compressing another moan as she picks up the pace, “Shit, ummm, I remember you fucking yourself. How pretty your ass looked, the moans you made, your blonde hair I wanted to pull.” You audibly sigh, your self-restraint meeting it’s bitter end as you take another hit, snuffing out the lit bud in the ashtray. 

Your half-lidded eyes look up at her; entirely in a new light and she’s not giving you much of a choice. As much as you want to pull away, you can’t. This is what your wet dreams are made of. The quiet evenings where you think about what it would be like if Abby was sleeping on the empty side of your bed. Is she a silent sleeper or does she snore? Is she someone who likes to sleep in silence or with an ambient tune soothing her into a slumber? 

Some of the many things you think of. Without even realizing it, she has infiltrated every area of your life with absolute ease. 

For the first time, you can’t see behind those beautiful blue eyes, you don’t know what she’s feeling and you feel locked out. On the outside trying to peer in and she’s keeping you at bay. This Abby is unlike her, a difference in the variant she gives you as you stumble even more. Even the way she came out here tonight, making you work for it, teasing a secret she obviously has been keeping close to her chest. Did she not trust you or was she simply just embarrassed? 

“I guess it’s only fair to give you a full view this time.” Abby continues to ride you as she guides your hands to pull at the loose knot, and the second you undo the silk, is when the moan you have been so desperate to conceal spills out. 

Between a moan and a groan, eyes almost permanently roll back into your skull as you try to form words but none come out. Too focused on how Abby’s making you feel her, the way she’s grinding on you, the feeling you’ve been craving in each bone of your body. 

“Abby—” Her name comes out as a righteous breath, the world being restored with the way she touches you. “I’m not….I don’t deserve this.” 

“None of us ever get what we deserve.” Abby sings like an angel witnessing an eclipse. Delicately she drops her head in the crook in your neck, dazed in the bliss of you, heavenly notions of bills fall on your ears. “But I’ll give you everything you want, baby.” 

Strong hips moving at an erratic pace, Abby’s moans only get louder when you wrap an arm wrapped around her waist as she pushes closer to the edge and you’re right there with her. 

Never do you want to be rid of her. 

“Are you close, angel?” Abby nods, a soft whimper of agreement. 

“Use your words pretty girl.” 

“Yes, I’m close.” Fuck. She obeys too. 

“Is this all you’ve been wanting? Pent up in that room, having to take care of yourself, whining in hopes I would hear you again. It’s all just a little too much. You need a release, pretty girl?” 

“Yeah, I do.” Abby heavily breathes out, sighing as your free hand travels between the two of you, stroking soft circles on her puffy clit. Kissing softly around her neck until sharp canines mark the territory as your own. If Abby would let you, there wouldn’t be an inch of her skin left untouched. 

“I bet you do. Mhm, then c’mon pretty girl, show me what so many pay for.”

more of my rambles. sorry to leave you hangingndndndnsnsn. um. yeah. this may have read different than my current work. i wrote it five months ago. so. if y’all still want me to keep this going….lmk. next chapter, if y’all want it, will be more camgirl!abby things. finally getting to the heart (or cum) of why i started it in the first place ♡

[beef-brisket]

✨️Save Them First✨️

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Standing on the clouds of Heaven, the exorcist army was getting ready to charge into Hell once again. But this time, it felt different. The air was thick, and the girls had only revenge on their minds.

One of their own was killed. Beheaded. Nine of this was possible, but yet, here they were, missing one.

And now, there's word of the princess trying to get sinners into Heaven, trying to breach their gate with less than unworthy scum.

First, the queen tried to raise an army, and now her daughter was doing the same thing. It was only disguised as something harmless, something that could change their tainted souls.

As the bell tolled, the portal opened, creating a gash in the sky's of Heaven and Hell.

Adam watched as his girls flew down, ready to cause as much carnage and bloodshed as physically possible. This was the fight that would make or break Heaven.

Lute took to the skies and flew towards the portal, stopping just before the portal. Looking back at her commander, she wasn't confident about him coming.

It was pushing it last extermination, but only six months later? And her commander being eight months pregnant? She Hayes to think of the worst case scenario.

But, he was determined to fight this. To fight THEM.

He was trusted with protecting Heaven. He can't do that if he'll let something as simple as pregnancy stop him.

Lute: Sir...

Adam: Yeah, fuck. Coming.

This wasn't going to be easy. Lute was the only one he told about his condition. Everyone else believed that he was only putting on weight. Which wasn't a complete lie.

-

Everything was going better than great. Adam was able to flex his power a few times, breaking that weird portal like it was nothing, blowing up some snake guy, and not to mention humiliating some red bastard that was too prideful for his own good.

In fact, he reminded Adam of someone.

But, as much as he hates to admit it, that brat managed to get a good hit in. Stabbing him in the shoulder with her weapon, making him feel pain for the first time in thousands of years. It felt... almost addicting. And unluckily for Adam, he got his fair share of pain.

Holding the bitch up by her throat, Adam wished for nothing more than kill her. To snap her neck and throw her away like the trash she is.

But someone, somewhere fucked up. Really badly. The king himself turned up and joined the fight.

After a beat down that left Adam more disoriented and in so much pain, he felt like he was going to pass out. But he wouldn't show weakness. His girls were watching him, looking to him for strength and guidance. Even though he's more lost than any of them.

They should have retreated. Fled. Flew as quickly as they could back to Heaven. But so many were either injured or dead.

And Adam was no different.

Looking at those bastards who dared to look proud of themselves for fucking with the natural order through him off. But he wasn't surprised. This is one reason why they can't get into Heaven, why he has to protect those gates. Their sick. Each sinner is sick beyond comprehension. And they'd only spread their germs the moment they got up stairs.

They couldn't even let him finish talking because pulling a cowardly move. Stabbing him in the back over and over.

He felt his legs give way. Suddenly, all feeling in them were nothing but a static feeling. Adam tried to land differently. Really, he did. But he couldn't control it, and he landed on his stomach.

Where he felt someone stab over and over and over again, making the wounds in his back more of a mushy hole. Breathing and... literally everything was pretty much impossible.

He was beyond thankful when Lute rolled him over, resting a hand on his stomach.

Adam's eyes widened at her state. She was beyond bloody and mangled, obviously in pain, but she was doing everything she could to hide it.

She's always been strong. Incredibly so. She always amazed Adam. And scared him, but he won't say that out loud.

Adam could see her speaking, but eveything... distant.

Which made things feel so slow, like he was watching everything from a third person. Especially when his girls left him. Dying. In Hell.

He knew it was for the best, the light of Heaven's portal warming him up in a way that was so different than how Hell was.

But then it closed.

No one came. Or looked back.

He tensed and groaned when he felt a new rush of pain. It was something he's never experienced, but one he did recognise.

As his stomach and lower back cramped, Adam started to panic. He was dying. He could feel it, but his baby was so desperate to come out. To live. He had to do everything he could to make that happen.

He stared at the king of Hell, his expression tense and panicked. He hated him. So goddamn much. But he needed him. His baby needed him.

-

Once everyone walked into the new Hazbin Hotel, Lucifer looked up at the place with pride. His daughter needed him, and he helped her in record time.

The only issue was the still dying first man. What a waste. Lucifer didn't know how to feel towards him, especially after today, but seeing him wraith in pain felt... good. More than Lucifer would care to admit.

Maybe one last conversation to make it hurt.

Walking over, Lucifer smiled at the pained look on Adam's face. Looks like justice finds a way after all.

But what Lucifer didn't expect, but Adam trying to reach for him, wasn't it.

Adam: P-Plea-se.

[thisisjustfanfic]

Cleaning up the Timeline

{You and Rafayel have a sleepover....there's very little sleeping.}

Read on ao3.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Possessive Behavior, NS!FW, Rafayel has a strong nose, and even stronger fingers. SLight!Somn0

Chapter 9: Sleepover

Evening comes and you’re snuggled in bed. The light from the windows dimmed by sheer curtains and the sounds of the outside world completely lost to you.

Your phone was practically useless most of the time. Receiving messages at odd intervals, hours after they’d been sent. It sat in your bedside table, off, because the screen kept turning in randomly.

Your dreams are filled with sensations, though images seem to escape you. You can feel the warm skin and calloused fingers as they wind together, but can’t see them. Like your sight had been plucked from you, all only fragments of your other senses remained. 

The scent of sea salt and fresh air met you as lips dragged down the back of your neck, teeth biting down on your nape as hips slapped against yours. The pain from their canines only heightening the intense pleasure of their cock sliding inside. 

A shift and their body was gone— replaced with hands on your hips, digging tightly into your flesh as you used your trembling thighs to slide up and down. You could hear their pants, their pleas for mercy but no matter how hard you tried—- you couldn’t decipher who it was.

Frustrating in more ways than one, and the shards of dreams dissolved into the ether when a knock at your door drew you into lucidity.

Groggily you sit up, wondering if the knock had been real or just another part of the dream. But it came again, a little louder this time, and you groaned into your pillow.

On unsteady feet, you went to the door and opened it, a sleepy looking Rafayel leaning against the frame. He smiled when he saw you— soft but eager.

“Rafayel?” You mumbled out, forcing yourself to wake up enough to question him, “What are you doing here?”

“I had another bad dream.” Rafayel said with the most exaggerated pout and sad eyes. You’re surprised he didn’t stick out his bottom lip and flutter his long lashes at you, he was laying it on so thick.

“And?” You hum, rubbing at your dry eyes, “Did you want me to check under your bed or something?”

“Can I stay here for the night? Please?” Rafayel asked sweetly, but was already pressing into your room mid sentence.

“Really?” You croaked, “If you want a cuddle just say that. Lying is bad for your health you know.”

You mean it as a joke, hoping he’d take the hint and back away, but he doesn’t. He tilts his head and leans in, “It’s not a lie. I did have a bad dream and I want cuddles. Is that so bad?”

You sigh, hoping he doesn’t notice the red in your face in the darkness. (He does.) You turn back to your bed, too eager to get back to sleep to try and argue with him. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Rafayel, it’s that there’s not much point in arguing with him when he wants something.

It doesn’t hurt that cuddles sound nice too, and you’d slept so good the last time he’d been there so why not?

“Don’t hog the blankets.” You warn as you step aside and let him in. He grins and pats your head, closing the door shut behind him.

He beats you to the bed, practically jumping onto the free side and climbing beneath the blankets. “As if I could.”

You let out another sigh as you climb into bed, sliding beneath the blankets which are still warm from your body heat. You’ve barely settled against the pillow before a hand snakes around your waist and roughly pulls you back against a solid chest. You wheeze a little as the breath is squeezed out of you, and then turn your head to glare at your assailant– who’s already pretending to be asleep. 

Though you want to argue, you decide against it. It’s hardly the most scandalous thing you’ve done these past few days, and what’s wrong with a little cuddling? It can even be considered platonic. You would consider it platonic, but something squirming in your chest debates otherwise. 

“I can feel you overthinking again.” Rafayel’s lips move against your ear, letting you feel the words almost more than you hear them.

“I’m not.” You whisper, turning back to face away from him, head sinking into the pillow. The windows across from you let in the light from the distant, bustling city. A soft, almost lunar glow. 

“Don’t worry so much,” Rafayel hums squeezing his arms in a teddy-bear hug, “Makes you stink.”

You jerk a little, “I don’t stink.”

A feathery laugh jostles the both of you as it leaves Rafayel’s chest, “No, not really. But when you think too much, you get stressed. And it smells like metal. Like copper and salt.”

You frown and shake your head, “That’s weird. You’re weird.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rafayel replies, “I think you’ve told me that before.”

“Go to sleep,” You whisper, feeling much to aware of how much of you is pressed against him. It feels different to when Xavier had you pressed from stem to stern. He’d actually been asleep, and not just pretending, and so sinking into him felt like relaxing into a pool of feathers and wooly down. 

Rafayel was not asleep, and so every nerve ending that touched him buzzed. Humming like the plucked string of a harp. 

He sighs and shifts a little, moving his hips more firmly against yours as he nuzzles his head into the pillow. “I am.”

That’s the last thing spoken, at least for a little while. Being in a city, there’s never really silence. An occasional car will pass by, casting reflections of its headlight across your ceiling through the cracks in the curtains. The hum of the central heating kicks on, and then off. A symphony of racket that combines into a familiar song.

The breathing in your ear is the melody. The final touch which sends your body submitting into decadent sleep. Drifting through tidepools of clear slumber. 

You’re swimming in that thick in-between between sleep and awake when Rafayel hums again, a deep content sound. He presses his nose into your hair and inhales, which you only register because it's followed by the silken press of lips to the shell of your ear.

“I like this scent much better,” Rafayel purrs, his hands pressing into the soft flesh of your stomach and drifting, moving without purpose, like the mindless push and pull of the tide. “Sleepy…and…sweet. Like strawberries…”

His words slink like a serpent into your sleep-addled mind, simultaneously lulling you further into oblivion with his syrupy tone and rattled into wakefulness with the heat in his words. 

All you manage is a soft, placating noise of acknowledgement. Your hands, which had been outstretched in front of you, pull inward, and your knees pull up a bit. Curling up into a tighter ball. 

“How can you still be…” Rafayel’s voice is more hoarse this time, and he flattens his right hand against your bellybutton and presses down, forcing your back to straighten and drawing you out of your curl. With a firm hand at the hemline of your sleep shorts, he presses you back to where you were before. Hip to hip. His breath stutters as you press back into him and feel the prominent hardness he ruts into you. “S-So…good.”

Your mind is still swimming, but in the most delightful way. Eased into a floaty, warm headspace by the heady shift of his hips and the tentative drag of his fingers. 

“Can I?” He rasps as he presses his nose to the pulse point behind your ear, quickly replacing it with his lips, pushing into you more. His pulse is fast and pounding, and his desperation to taste tempered only by the lack of permission. “Can I…please?”

You’re not even really sure what he’s begging for. But he’s begging. His voice a thready whine that wraps around you like a hangman's noose, making you lose the ability to breathe until you give in to him. It strangles you, the feeling of needing him. His plea falls like a command from a god, and you're nothing but a willing, lowly, supplicant. 

You nod and his breathing catches. A sharp intense inhale as his body jerks like a rubber band snapping. His hips press hotly into your ass, pushing the manifestation of his desire into you. Rutting through fabric that is quickly growing more and more irritating. 

At your silent permission, his tongue is immediately at your neck. Teeth nipping and lips latching to kiss and suck mark after mark wherever he can reach. His hand at your waist, pulls up, but only enough to slide his long, agile fingers beneath your shorts and underwear, sliding the demoniacal serpent in the garden of eden to where you’re wet and wanting. 

You gasp as his fingers slide against the seam of wetness, and the moan he lets out stutters as his middle finger finds how utterly soaked you are. Like a man rendered speechless at the gift you bestowed him, all for him. Are you really like this for him? He’s barely touched you. Such a devoted girl, responding to him perfectly. 

You don’t realize that it’s his voice in your ear muttering such utter filth and not your own thoughts. Not until he groans and presses his middle and ring finger harder against you. Finding your twitchy and hot. He explores the dewy region you’ve so graciously granted him access to, and he takes his time. 

It’s feather-light. It’s maddening. It’s not enough and he knows it, because you’re panting and whining. Rolling your hips down and back, trying to get him to touch you properly. 

The low, rumbling laugh in your ear, shoots like an arrow down your spine. His amusement at your delirious pursuit of pleasure only makes your hips jerk sharper. 

“Let me take my time,” He mumbles into you, no room for argument. “I’ve waited for this, so you can too.”

“P-please–” You gasp, the first word you’ve been cognizant enough to say, and it croaks out of you. Followed quickly by a string of high pitch whines and gasping breaths. You’re an instrument, a paintbrush. A tool that his fingers seem to know too well, stoked like a fire into a fever pitch.

Rafayel grunts when you slide just right against his cock, even through the clothing the heat of him is scorching, and you want to make him feel as mind-numbingly good as you are. 

With a soft growl he nips your earlobe, a sting of pain making you startle but also a spark of spineless pleasure right to your cunt. He’s swirling his fingers around your clit now, pressing hard enough to make you see stars and then backing off. “Be good for me, princess.”

You’re not sure if this is a reward or a punishment. You’re trying to be good, to do whatever it is that he wants if it keeps his hands on you. 

You’re getting close, rising up and and up and up, and the profane sounds of his fingers on your clit fill the room. Squelching, slippery sounds that Rafayel groans in reply to. 

Struck by the sudden desire to kiss him, you tilt your head to the side, mouth open and panting and searching for him. He growls and surges forward, using his free hand to push your neck into a painful tilt so he can press his lips to yours. 

He consumes you. Inhales your breath and swallows the noises you make. Nothing is left for anything else. He’d hoard your scent from the very air itself if he could. 

You break away to breathe, gasping for breath and try to twist more into him. He snarls– an animal sound that make you gasp as his fingers leave you. 

In a sudden flurry of movement, Rafayel throws the blankets away and onto the floor at the foot of the bed. He shifts to roll you onto your back, leaning over you to press your lips to his in a n open mouth, delirious kiss. His hands don’t stop even in the midst of the kiss. They yank down your shorts and panties, throwing them carelessly across the room and then moving to remove your shirt as well. 

You follow his movement. He’s the lead in this dance and you’re one step behind him. Skin bared he takes a moment to drink in the sight of you. He’s kneeling between your legs, hands gripping onto your thighs and sliding upwards. A strangled, half-repressed sound leaves him as his eyes rake up and down your exposed body. 

You reach for him, and he meets you halfway. Pressing another fiery kiss to your lips and he slides his hands back down to your hips, pressing his still wet fingers back to the apex of your thighs. He doesn’t hesitate to return to his circling fingertips, moving faster and harder than before. 

You collapse as pleasure grips you, falling against the pillows. Rafayel’s jaw is tight and his eyes burn. “That’s it, princess.” He praises you, and you lift your hips to meet his fingers, “Fuck, yes. Move your hips– that’s it  cutie. So good.”

He’s spread his knees apart to keep your hips elevated, and slides his fingers down to  press them inside you. Hooking them to press against the soft, squishy part of your insides that makes your vision darken. You squirm away from his hand, overwhelmed by the feeling and instinctively moving away from the intensity of it. 

“Uh uh,” Rafayerl reprimands. His voice is hushed but deadly and the hand that isn’t driving into you grabs a handful of your hip to keep you in place, “Don’t run from me, princess. Stay right there. Let me– fuck, yes–  Let me hear you.”

You do. Later, you’ll realize that the whole house can hear you, but right now isn’t about them. Nothing else exists except for this. Except for Rafayel and his magical figures. A maestro conducting his orchestra. 

Through heavy-lidded eyes you look up at him, at the absolutely wrecked expression on his face. Equal parts rage and desire, and for a moment you swear his cheekbones shimmer. Sweat probably, but somehow still ethereal. A trick of the light conjured by your misfiring brain because you also swear you see something deep red burn like the flicker of a candle flame over his chest. Peeking out from the collar of his sleep-shirt.

“I can feel you squeezing me,” Rafayel groans, “You gonna’ come for me. Yeah…yeah you are. That’s it. Ngh– oh, god. That’s it. Good girl. Good girl. Come for me. C’mon , princess, let me see it.”

Ever the obedient servant, you obey his command. Clenching around his fingers and cumming around them. You grip onto his wrist as you writhe, riding his hand as much as you can with his hand on your waist. 

Rafayel watches with rapt attention, searing the vision of you into his mind. The minute you start to come down from your effervescent high he’s over you again. Your legs around his waist and his chest pressed against yours. You squeal as your overly sensitive clit rubs against his pant, but he swallows the noise. Kissing you again and again. 

“So good,” He praises as you catch your breath, slowly  and gradually lessening the heat in his kisses until he’s peppering little sugar-sweet pecks across your face, your neck, your chest. He sighs against your skin and sits up, “You did so well.”

You swallow and try not to sound winded, “Can I?” You start but have to pant again before continuing, “Can I touch you?”

Rafayel’s shoulders shake with a warm laugh and he shakes his head. “Not necessary.”

Pushing yourself up onto your elbows you look at him with such a needy expression that his ears turn red, “I want to. Please.”

Rafayel laughs, a little more sheepishly this time. “I…I already– ah, I couldn’t help myself. It’s your fault really. It’s been a while, and seeing you…”

You can’t help but glance down at his crotch, stunned. His voice drifts off and you catch his drift. Where you expect to see a hard, aching bulge,  you see a prominent wet spot on the soft fabric of his sweatpants. 

“Oh.” You say lamely, a shiver running up your spine that he notices. 

“Let me clean you up,” He says, jumping off the bed as his face turns a deeper shade of red. 

Rafayel proceeds to clean you up. He doesn’t let you get up, asking which drawers are for what until you’re redressed in completely new clothes– even a fresh pair of undies. Hew tucks you into the blankets and strokes your hair, mumbling about cleaning himself up before he leaves the room. 

You’re half asleep when he returns, but the sound of the door reminds your drifting mind that you were waiting for him. 

When you reach your hands out to him, meeting him halfway as he climbs into your bed, Rafayel sighs into the embrace. He tucks you against him, pressing as much as he can against you and finally really settling into it. 

“I don’t want to overthink it,” You confess to him. He reaches up to run his thumb across your cheek. “But I don’t want to mess up either.”

“Impossible,” Rafayel whispers, sounding so fond it makes your heart ache. “I can’t speak for the others,” He takes another breath, “But I’d forgive you for anything, I think.”

You laugh at his absurdity, but something in your chest aches. “That’s not true. I’m sure there’s something I could do to get you to hate me.”

You’re not sure why you press it, but Rafayel doesn’t bite. He presses a kiss into your hair and sighs again sleepily, “You could crush my heart, kill my body, and I would still…still forgive you.”

His voice is barely a whisper, and you're struck so dumb by his words that you don’t reply. You let his devotion float in the air around you, wrapping around your heart like barbed wire. It hurts to hear, and you’re not sure. 

You want to argue, but he’s already snoring. And so you close your eyes, holding onto him a bit tighter– wondering why you feel so sad when you do.

--------------

You’re surprised Rafayel is still there when you wake up, and surprised more when its not painfully awkward. Your alarm sounds, and it’s like a practised routine. He squeezes you tight and then reluctantly lets you go, rolling over onto his own side of the bed as you sit up and check your phone. 

There’s a few texts to read. 

I can hear you all the way in the basement. 🐱 I wonder who could be making you sound like that? Or are you alone?

Sylus’ text makes your gut clench and your face turn bright red. No way he heard you in the basement. You might be loud, but you’re not that loud. He’s such a tease sometimes, and you dread the stupid, knowing smirk that’ll be on his face when you see him next. 

Are you alright? - From Xavier

Oh, I see. You’re not injured. - From Xavier

I have a mission coming up. I expect my turn before I leave. - From Xavier. 

Xavier’s three messages span over an hour as he slowly came to the realization of what’d you been up to. Your poor tummy twists again,  and desire curls again like a venomous snake. Sylus taunting you is one thing– the two of you teetering around the other with so much tension it could turn into fighting or fucking. Xavier, on the other hand, is so direct. Demanding his turn with such bluntness. You imagine Xavier in Rafayel’s place, plying you with his fingers you have to bite your lip. 

For some reason, your mind imagines Xavier as so much rougher. His movements are still precise, but brutal, coupled with a resounding smack to your ass whenever he thinks you’re not focusing enough on him. 

Where did that come from?

There’s nothing from Zayne, which is both a relief and a disappointment.

The last text stuns you. 

Hey! Where are you!? I’ve been trying to call you a thousand times, what happened?????? I came back from a mission and you’re gone! And your apartment is empty! Please call me! 

Tara’s text is frantic and missing the usual overuse of emojis. You rise from the bed and go to the bathroom, Rafayel sighing into his pillow the only sign he’s still there as you close the door behind you. 

You quickly call Tara, guilt eating at you as it rings. Once. Twice.

“Oh my god! It’s you!” Tara squeals from the other line, an odd series of beeps sounding before her voice which you dismiss as your buggy phone’s death knell. “Thank god! I was so worried! I was an hour away from starting to call hospitals!”

“I’m fine, Tara, I’m fine!” You assure as quietly but firmly as you can. “I didn’t mean to worry you. Captain Jenna put me on leave, and then my landlord found out and kicked me out. It’s complicated but I’m fine.”

Tara exhales a heavy sigh of relief, “I know you’ve been struggling lately, and I was worried….” She pauses, “I guess I was worried you might have done something. You didn’t…you didn’t do anything to yourself right?”

Your heart stops, “No, no! I wouldn’t– I mean, No. I didn’t do anything. I was in the dumps a little when Jenna put me on leave, but I’m okay now.”

Tara’s concern makes you nauseous. You know you’d been in a bad place, but had it really been that bad? It makes you reconsider why Jenna might have put you on leave, maybe she was worried you’d hurt yourself…it wasn’t unheard of. Hunters who chose death-by-Wanderer. 

“Where are you staying?” Tara asks sweetly, “You know you can come stay with me, yeah? I promise I’ll clean before you get there!”

You laugh lightly but then grimace. Her offer is genuine, everything about Tara is genuine. Should you consider it? You’d be out of the boys’ hair, and could maybe convince Jenna to give you your job back. 

Looking at the closed bathroom door, your heart sinks. Rationally, you know you should want to leave. You should want to return to your normal life, your normal apartment, and your semi-normal job of Hunting. 

But you don’t want to, and the realization of that makes you feel dizzy. “No,” You say before your mind has fully caught up, “I’ve got a place to stay. I’m good, I promise.”

“Well, call me when you can, ok?” Tara insists, “I’ve been fighting Jenna all morning for you. I can’t believe she would do that to you.”

“She wasn’t wrong for it,” You sigh, “I wasn’t performing up to standards. Besides, the break has been…enlightening.”

Tara is quiet for a moment, like she’s choosing her words carefully, “You’re coming back, right?”

“Yeah, of course! I worked too hard to give it all up. I love being a Hunter, I’m just…I just needed to clear my head that’s all. I’ll send the Captain a message and see what I need to do to come back, okay?”

You hear Tara’s cheery squeal crackle through the phone, “Oh good! When are you free? We need to meet up! How about karaoke? Or we could go dancing?”

You laugh softly, “Karaoke sounds fun. I’ve got a side-gig I’m doing right now and so I only have Sundays free. Oh, but not this coming Sunday…so next Sunday?”

Tara hums happily, “Next Sunday it is. I’ll text you. Don’t ever go off grid-like that again ok?”

“I promise. It won’t happen again.” You say apologetically, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Just don’t do it again and you’re  forgiven!” Tara says in mock reproach, “I gotta go, text me ok?”

“I will, see ya.” You bid and the line goes dead. You sigh and set your phone on the counter, watching as the screen flickers off and then back on. The recent calls turned into the home screen and then back again. Damn, glitchy thing. 

You get ready for the rest of the day. It’s Saturday, and you need to work on laundry. Not to mention the pantry could use a reorganization. Your going through a mental list of things as you get dress, barely thinking about the man asleep in your bed. He doesn’t rouse at all as you move around, and you don’t bother him until your set to leave your room.

You gently touch his hair, moving the curled amaranthine strands from his resting face and then press your palm to the side of his face, “Rafayel?”

His brow pinches and he whines, turning away and digging his face into the pillow petulantly

“I’m heading downstairs.” You tell him, “I’ll see you later, ok?”

He mumbles something incoherent into the down of the pillow and you can only smile. It feels a little bittersweet to leave him in your room, but also kind of scandalous. Like he’s your little secret that everyone happens to know about. 

You shoot Tara a message to tell her you’re excited and aren’t surprised when it takes an age to send. Added onto your list is to have someone look at your phone, Sylus seems handy. Maybe you’ll ask him tomorrow.

<- Previous Next ->

[naga-raja-suresh]

Suresh said nothing more of the Lightless leader. Or his paranoia. The man had his reasons for concern. And Suresh would not belittle them. If Suresh was something other than himself he would have much reason to be concerned about Corvinus' arrival. In the grand scheme of things Callum and Suresh had been able to eek out an uneasy alliance with each other. A vast improvement to the cold war the Lightless and Lotus Eaters had been engaged in. And the losses of his territory small bites at a time. The comments about both Callum and Mathias did elicit a grin from the Naga. He gave a graceful shrug that could mean anything. "Anything to do with Naga's is mine. Regardless of territory lines."

A soft, rich laugh trickled out of Suresh's mouth. He shook his head, highly amused, "I thought you were rather good. Maybe you've improved since all the murder attempts? Or maybe you were just trying to impress me..." His golden eyes were bright with humor, "Many people have tried to kill me over the centuries. The lovers usually waited until after I broke their hearts before they attempted murder. None ever made it very far."

"Yes, it has been very interesting to finally meet you, and to get to know you a little. There are so few of us in the world." But Suresh was ready to see the back of the Witch. They would have this meeting, Suresh would get what he wanted and then this immortal problem could continue on it's way. But he did find the witch truly fascinating. And the taste he'd had of the others mind, of his memories. He would love to lie with the other and speak about the past, the present, the future. To talk about power and to be able to have someone understand what he meant when he spoke of loss. He saw the hand coming and didn't move, even his eyes stayed on Corvinus' face. Now that first sentence tasted like actual truth. Something disconcertingly honest in it. But that comment about gratitude... Suresh's face shifted into something mischievous as he slid his snake half into the space between Corvinus' knees, coils spilling over his legs and onto his lap. Pushing to make him flinch or shove Suresh away. Or would be break and try and hurt Suresh again. Hands, still talonless, resting on Corvinus' shoulders. The space between them disappearing. His face close to the witch's. As he looked at his eyes and then his face, drifting to his lips. His voice was breathy and oddly gentle as he whispered, "Should I? Be grateful? If you were anything other than ripples... You would have met a very different version of me." He leaned back and began to slide himself out of Corvinus' lap and off the couch completely.

Of course he expected Callum to immediately begin running his mouth to anyone that would listen. But Corvinus should be so lucky that the elderly shifter was not so liked that anyone would just take him at his word. Paranoia had always been part of his brand. Fior hadn't tried to attack him or outright reject him, that was a good sign. And Suresh didn't seem any more worried about his arrival. The witch did have to wonder how the Deathrunners might feel if word had reached them yet. "Callum has always been paranoid. I'm sure he spent many years after attacking me looking over his shoulder, wondering when I might get revenge. He wasn't worth hunting down. As for the Deathrunner boy, pretty. Not likely to pursue again. Though I more expected that leader to come and request the blood, not for him to turn to you." The two groups must be closely aligned, something to make note of. And here he had been hoping they would be at one another's throats.

Attraction and passion were two very dangerous things. It required some level of trust, some level of danger. To be in such close proximity always had his defenses raised, no matter if it was an ancient being like the one beside him or a normal mortal far below his level. "I've had one too many lovers try to kill me immediately after. You'd be surprised how many sure you to bed only for you to find a knife in your chest right after. The seventeenth century was particularly nasty. I'd have quite the scar set if I were able to be hurt that way." Of course, he did have scars but that was long before. All of them fleeting interests, something to occupy his time. Then they realised what he was and reacted out of fear or some righteousness for the crimes he had committed.

He felt the hand on his knee, letting the other to allow his legs to uncross and press open slightly. Corvinus raised a brow, meeting the other's gaze once more. Even with the gestures, it was quite obvious the naga wanted him gone as quickly as possible. "As pleasant as this has been, having my fun, I would much rather be on a quick return journey back to my own country. Or whatever unfortunate place catches my attention next." He moved a hand up, gently running over Suresh's jawline, looking over every detail Flawless skin....meant it was hard to actually hurt. But there were always internal methods, as he had already shown. "It wasn't my choice to come here, rest assured. But I do have a habit of making waves wherever I go. You should be grateful it's mere ripples in this city."

[fisheito]

Typing "capsaicin snake effect" into the search bar so i can figure out if yakumo can eat spicy food

[ivorysaurus]

I like to imagine myself as cool and mysterious but all I do is yap and the mystery comes from my incredibly out of pocket facts that I retain better than actual education

[bakerysnake]

i love weak hero so much

[eupheme]

— tooth and nail

alpha!logan x mutant!f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dub-con (logan goes into a rut), a/b/o-lite elements (logan-only - ruts/knots/mates), breeding kink, mutual pining, two jealous dummies, size kink, fighting as foreplay, return of The Claws (claw-play?), outercourse, biting, marking, come play, rough PiV sex 

a/n: pure pwp. reader has druidic-based mutant powers (wild shape, strong connection to nature/animals, influence over vines/foliage) and is from Earth-10005.

Logan knows this feeling. He thought he’d left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest. 

Should have told you no. Should have locked himself away like he always did. Instead, he’s stuck, unable to keep his mind from wandering while his sparring partner - sweat-dewed and squirming - is pinned beneath him. 

(Or - Logan’s rut begins at a most inopportune time)

Something wasn’t right.

It’s been settling under his skin for days now.  Tiny hooked claws, digging into flesh. A syrupy urge low in his guts, his mind not quite his own.

He thought he’d left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest. 

The world he lives in now is different. There’s humans, mutants, aliens. But none like him, answering to something innate that defined him in a way that didn’t matter anymore.

It’s been a while. Almost forgot how it felt, after years of tamping down this part of him. Should have recognized sooner what it was. This rippling, simmering irritation just beneath his skin, so much stronger than usual. 

Should have locked himself away, when he realized his rut was returning.

In his years in his own Earth, the urge had lessened. Dulled by alcohol and grief. Managed by himself, in the few months this part of his nature did visit him.

But he hadn’t been able to tell you no. Hadn’t been able to resist, not when you smiled so prettily at him, practically begging him. 

And the thought of you leaving him behind at the X-Mansion, while you went off without him - to spar with Hank, instead - made him want to rip McCoy’s arms off. 

Desire swirls around him now, as he trades blows with you. Your arms snaking around his shoulders as you shoulder a well-placed hit, bringing you both down the floor.

Logan feels like a pup again, watching your breathless laugh. The clench of your thighs around his waist. The heady throb low in his guts, the pressure of his cock as it strains against his suit. 

His hips lift, separating him from you. Trying to form an excuse, while his brain is rocketing into overdrive.

Fighting back the urge to close that gap again. To peel down those tight leggings that drive him mad, bury his mouth against your pussy and make you scream. Fuck you full of him, until he’s dripping out of you for days. 

The though makes him growl, as he tries to concentrate.

Tough to fake an illness, or injury. You’d see right through him.

Or even worse, worry.

So all he had to do was finish out this session. 

Shouldn’t be too hard. 

If you can just avoid touching him… he might just make it through. 

You know you shouldn’t let yourself get distracted like this while sparring with Logan, but you can’t seem to help it.

Not when you’ve been nursing this thing inside you for months now. Something planted from another earth, settling low in your chest. Infesting like the vines that sprout from you, taking over until you’re fully ensnared.

You’ve tried to ignore it. Didn’t want to ruin a good thing between you. 

Out of everyone in the X-Mansion, you got along with Logan the best. Used to a solitary lifestyle after being raised among the druids, before you knew the truth to what you were, the mutant lineage that flowed through you.

It had paired well with his temperament. His anger and grouchy quips slipped from you like raindrops on a leaf. Something about spending time with you softening him at the edges - just a little bit.

He was still the hard man he used to be. Grizzled, with that scowl of his and the flecks of grey at his temples.

And despite your efforts - forgetting and moving on hadn’t been successful. Not at all. 

Because it’s impossible to ignore when he’s close, like this. Pressing your back to the mat, your wrist slammed against the padded floor. A knife skittering away, because even after all this time - even with his insisting - you were still reluctant to use it.

It sends your pulse racing. He’s so fucking strong - and you think that maybe, even if you had been an equal pair, that you’d still throw these matches. 

Let him win, if it gets him like this. Sweaty and pressed up against you as you struggle beneath him. A thigh jammed between yours to prevent you from slamming your heel into his calf.

You’ll think about this later. 

You always do after your sparring sessions. You hand slipping between your thighs in the shower after. Bitten-back moans as you play out more in your mind - the plunge of your fingers inside your aching cunt until you’re shuddering with the pulsing pleasure, slumping back against the cold tile. 

The fantasies always comes back to him. 

You think that maybe Logan wants it too. Have felt his gaze on you when he thinks no one is looking, but your senses have always been keen. Animal attraction, perhaps. Pheromones. Something about his smell, his touch, beckons you - though you don’t understand what it means. 

And it’s only now that you realize he’s gone still above you. Eyes blown wide, a sharp breath of air inhaled through clenched teeth. A low growl, caught in his throat. 

Holding himself back. You can see it - the way his muscles string tight. How his eyes dip, flicking over your face. Down to the part of your lips. The sweat that dews your chest. 

Close enough that you can inhale him - the smell of leather and cigar smoke blending with more - something inside you giving them a name. 

Want. Need. 

It gives you courage. 

You bridge the gap, for a just a moment. A shallow lift of your hips. Encouraging, the movement pushing your tits against his heaving chest. 

“Bad fucking idea, sweetheart.” He growls.

It’s rough, low. Ground-out as if to himself, a wounded sound slipping from his throat. 

His response has a mark forming between your eyebrows. A soft murmuring of his name.

Logan’s face dips, eyes closing as he inhales. Then, without warning, his knuckles cradle against your throat. 

Wrist flexing as two of his claws spear forward on either side of your neck. Punching through the training mats and sinking deep into the concrete beneath.

Pinning you completely under him, your hips dropping as your free hand wraps around his forearm. A tug of fear ripples through you, but he doesn’t budge.

“Logan,” You repeat, gasping, “What are you doing? What’s wrong?

This isn’t like the times you’ve sparred before. He’s never drawn his claws. You don’t heal like he does - you both know it. Never using more than a loose fist, an open palm in your sessions. 

He’s breathing heavy. Holding himself over you, his other hand still wrapped firmly around your wrist. 

“I’m gonna let you go.” It comes out ragged, through clenched teeth.

“And then I need you to leave, and lock me in after.” Only now does he look at you - his dark eyes burning, “You understand?”

His voice is so rough that it makes your skin prickle. Heat licking down your spine, stoking the embers that have settled low in your belly. 

“I don’t.” It comes out hushed.

How can you? It’s like a flip has been switched, in those few moments. Did you truly misread everything? 

His eyes haven’t left your face. There a peek of his tongue against his lips, the words coming slowly, “Don’t wanna do something you’re gonna regret.”

And for a moment, time stands still. An ache in your chest that’s so different than the one between your thighs. Finger unfurling, reaching.

Slipping up his arm, touching his cheek. He flinches, eyes fluttering shut as he holds his breath. 

“What could I regret with you?”

If it were anyone else, the question would be stupid. You should be running from the man that has you pinned to the ground, claws drawn. Another twitch and you could be dead - the middle unsheathing to pierce clean through your soft throat.

“Whatever it is, let me help you.” Your voice is gentle - coaxing -  and for a second, he leans into the touch. Palm pressing against heated skin, and you gasp, “You’re burning up, Logan.”

“You can’t help me with this.” He rasps with his eyes closed, voice strained. 

Your head shakes, “Let me try.”

A long pause lingers. The room filled with the uneven intake of breath. Logan’s words coming slowly, as his eyes open - dropping down to your throat. And then away, like he can’t bear to even look at you, “Does the word rut mean anything to you?”

It feels like something stirs again inside you. The flutter of wings, not unlike the feeling when you tap into your power. Like threads slipping your fingertips, connecting you down to the earth below. 

“Animals have ruts. Deer, elk, creatures like that.” A beat, as you begin to understand. Heat flaring in your cheeks at the implication, “But, not… not humans.”

He grunts, shifting.

It takes everything not to let your chin tip down, to look. 

“They do where I come from.” 

Pieces start to fall in place. His increased irritability around you lately. Territorial. Aggressive. 

Blending in to what you know, in your connection to nature. Those animalistic instincts that linger in your blood long after you’ve shed your beast form. 

Desire. Mating. An urge to breed. 

Oh, fuck. 

You squirm and he makes a warning sound without thinking - a rough rumble from his chest. His weight shifting on top of you, still hovering.

“How do you handle it?” 

His eyes flicker up to yours, then away again. Jaw working, a breath before he answers, “Take care of it myself. Or, I’d find someone to work through it with me.”

Even as you’re scrambling to make sense of it, you understand his insinuation. It stuns you into silence. You cannot allow that. The thought sends your heart crashing into your guts. 

Your chin tips up, defiantly.

“Let me help you.” 

Those dark eyes narrow as they snap to your face. Your words softening, as your thumb sweeps across his skin, the scruff of his cheek.

“I want to help you.”

Logan laughs, the sound ragged. Showing the points of his canines with the shake of his head. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice is smoky-low. Rough as it scrapes across your skin, leaving goosebumps, “You couldn’t take me.”

Your heart feels like it’s pounding in your throat. Heat licking down your spine, and surely he can feel it - the flutter beneath the press of his knuckles. 

“I can.” It comes out breathy. Insisting. 

His tongue brushes over his lips as they part. A tilt of his head as he lowers himself. His knee pressing against the meat of your thigh, nudging. Opening your legs up further. Spreading them wider. 

“I will ruin you.” 

It’s growled in your ear. Each word coming slowly, as he lets the hard curve of his cock grind against your core. His meaning unmistakable, his voice pitching down with a ragged groan. 

“I want you to ruin you. You understand?”

And, you do. It floods through you, sending your nerve endings alight. Imagining how he would handle you, take you. The space between your thighs throbs. 

His admission - the rasp of his words and the heavy nudge of him against you makes you do something very selfish. 

And very stupid. 

You’re just able to reach your thigh holster now, with this new angle. The quick fumble of your fingers to loosen the small dagger.

The metal side of his claw pressing into your skin as your head turns. Before he can move, a flick of your wrist sends it through the air.

Your aim is slightly off, but it does the job. Seating itself in the control box by the door, a sizzle as the wires are cut.

A metallic snick as the doors lock. The lights click off, plunging the room into darkness. The ground bathed only with the stripes of sun that stretch across the floor from the row of window along the wall.

Logan lets go of your wrist, but leaves you pinned. His fist curling in the strap of your tank, knuckles pressing against your throat as he yanks you forward.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Logan snarls, “You want me to use you?”

His words make you whimper. A soft little whine that has his hips dropping further. An unconscious rut against your core, leg muscles flexing as you clench around nothing. 

You meet his second thrust, your body curving against his. Head tipping back as the seam of your leggings nudge against your clit.

“Fuck.” It almost sounds awed now, his words soft and slow, “You do, don’t you?”

Letting his full weight drop, as your hands grip onto his shoulders for purchase. You had thought you were pinned before, but he had still been using his knees, his elbows. Hovering, in an attempt to keep control.

Now, you can feel all of him, as his body maps against yours. Pulling a rough groan as his hips flex, grinding himself slowly against your core. 

“Logan, please.”

He growls. Fingers unfurling from your shirt. Ghosting down your side to fit against the curve of your hip. Biting into flesh with a bruising force, as his face buried in the crook of your neck. A hot exhale against your skin, as he pants - finding a rocking rhythm, as his body curls around yours. 

You can feel the way his muscles tense with each needy snap of his hips. The way each breath pitches into a near-silent whine, as he seeks friction. 

It’s not enough, as much as he wishes it was.

“I need-” Logan rasps, “Tell me to stop and I will.”

The hand on your hip snakes between you. Roughly tugging on the belt of his suit, until the clasp opens. All while murmuring assurances, half to himself.

“I’ll let you go. Work through it myself-”

That need he speaks of rolls off him in waves. Facial hair scraping against your cheek. The brush of his lips against your throat, just above the cool press of his claws.

“Don’t stop.” It’s easy to answer. Easy to lean into what he offers you, all those sweet promises wrapped in steel. 

The groan he makes is filthy, “Give me your hand.”

Your fingers unlatch from the vice-like hold on his suit. A broad hand wrapping around your wrist, as he tugs you where he needs you. The tips brushing heated skin, making you gasp. 

“Make a fist,” He rasps, “Fuck, that’s it.”

Lining himself up, pushing his bared cock into the circled grip of your fingers. Using you like a cheap imitation of what he craves, as his desire leaks from him. Slicking up your fingers, with each roll of his hips. 

He’s heavy in your hand. You can feel how your fingers stretch - flexing, opening, with each forward thrust. Barely able to circle around, fingers splitting when you reach his base. 

You can’t help but move with him. Hips rocking up, to match his messy rhythm. The knuckle of your thumb pressing against your seam, nudging at where you ache for him.

“I can smell you, sweetheart,” Logan moans, his nose dragging along the curve of your jaw. Lips parting so he can test his teeth against a spot under your ear, the pressure making you shiver, “Your pussy’s leaking, thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, as you whine. Squeezing his cock a little more tightly, wishing it was filling you instead just your fingers. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He husks, “You think you can take it?”

You want anything he’ll give you. And anything is better than the way he’s teasing you. Palm slick with his desire, your own soaking through the soft fabric of your leggings.

“I want it. Want your cock,” You breathe, “Want to fuck me, please-”

There’s a final jerk of his hips against you, his voice gruff as his thighs shift.

“Stay still then, sweetheart.”

There’s the sharp rasp of adamantium against stone as they withdraw from the floor. His knuckles easing carefully from your throat as he leans back. Eyes dropping down, considering.

Barely a heartbeat before there’s the kiss of metal against skin, as the edge of a claw hooks under your shirt. Your breath held as it slips up, between your breasts. 

A tug, and the fabric is shredding. Fibers splitting until the drag of the sharp tips, from belly to throat. Baring you, the air in the open room chilling your heated skin as you gasp.

Nipples already pebbled as his mouth descends. A needy moan loosening when he kisses at the curve of your tits, his tongue flattening across a tight peak. 

Your arms wrap around him, their duty forgotten. Distracting you as his claws shift down. Your breath catches, but then there’s the sound of them sheathing - slipping back under his skin. 

His hands finding the slice he made in the waistband, making short work of the rest himself. Ripping your leggings open - dragging your thighs over his as he leans back on his knees. 

And looking down, it’s only now that you can fully see him. The familiar, worn yellow suit that shows off how broad he is. Zipper yanked down at the crotch, his cock pulled through with his impatience.

Eyes widening, when you realize there’s more to him than you though. Hanging heavy between his thighs, pretty and flushed. A thickened bulge sitting where your fingers had split - what you had mistaken for his base. 

“Need to be inside you, sweetheart,” Logan’s hand already wrapping around his shaft, dragging the tip across your cunt, “Don’t make me waste a drop, alright?”

Fingers tugging the gusset of your panties to the side. Letting the tip slap against your clit. It glides against you, slipping against your combined arousal. Seeing how you flutter as you clench, your own need spiking.

“Logan,” You beg, “Stop teasing, please-”

He makes a rough sound. Almost a laugh, if it didn’t sound so pained. 

“Just listen to you. Begging like you’re in heat,” He grunts, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need.”

The tip dips down, nudging at your entrance. Lining himself up, before his hips drive him forward. The sudden pressure chokes you - a bitten-back cry as your muscles string tight, thighs clamping down around his waist.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this.” He growls. Spearing into you an inch at time with a long, fluid motion. Fingers biting into your thigh, holding you open as your own scrabble against the mat - searching for something to hold onto.

“Tugging down those leggings. Fucking you into the floor.”

You can barely contain the whine. Brow furrowed, as he splits you open. Your pussy making room for him until the swollen ring at his base cradles your entrance. 

Only able to inhale a short breath before he’s moving. Hands catching your legs, slipping to the joints of your knees where they press into his ribs.

Pushing your thighs back towards your chest, opening you up further, as his cock drags along your walls. He feels deeper, bigger - groaning at the way you clench so tightly around him.

Better than any of those daydreams, as he leans into you. Chasing that animalistic urge inside to bury himself fully in you, ensuring that you’ll take every drop.

Your fingers bite into his wrists. The breath pushed from you with each thrust, feeling like he’s deep in your belly, as that swell stretches at your opening.

“Thought about it too,” You admit with a gasp, as that heat inside you burns, “Wanted you, like this.”

“Yeah? I bet you did.” He grunts, as his thighs snap against your ass. Leaning over you now, eyes fixed on yours. Close enough that you can see the glaze to them, lost in his need for release. 

Before his eyes drag down. Seeing where you’re stretched around him. Another shallow nudge, urging himself deeper. His thumb pressing at your entrance, before slipping back to hook around the swell.

“Good girl like you’d take my knot too, wouldn’t you?”

His knot. Your head shakes. He barely fits at is. You can feel every ridge as he ruts into you, every thick vein, “I don’t think- Logan, that won’t fit-”

The thumb shifts up. Pleasure burning through as he rolls the pad across you clit. His brow pulled in concentration, but there’s a flesh of white teeth.

“Sure it will, baby.” It’s slick, how he touches you. His cock grinding again and again against a spot that steals your breath, “You were made to take it. We’ll make it fit.”

It makes you moan. Your fingers sliding into his hair tugging at him. He comes willingly, a soft sound as his mouth dips to press against yours. Turning hungry as your lips part. Rubbing at you as his tongue strokes against yours, deepening the kiss. 

The pleasure licks in your veins, a molten feeling building in your core. 

A rough murmur against your lips, “Tell me you want it. I’ll make you feel good, sweetheart.”

You parrot it back to him without thinking, hips chasing the press of his thumb. 

“I want it,” You keen, “Your k-knot.”

Willing to do just about anything he asks if he keeps touching you like this. If he keeps rutting against the spot that makes your arousal leak around his cock, each drive of his hips loud and messy in the quiet room. 

He groans, the hand at your thigh pinching, sure to leave bruises tomorrow. The fingers at your clit slipping up to splay across your abdomen, his palm hot again your skin. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks - pressing down, almost as if he can feel himself buried inside you, “Fuck, you’d look so good filled with my pups.”

His rhythm going sloppy, as a hand slips up to palm at your breasts, “These pretty tits nice and round. Wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you, baby.”

Some of his words are new to you, but your body still reacts to his tone. The need, the longing. An intrinsic understanding of what he wants, even if it’s impossible with your implant. It still doesn’t stop your hand from slipping down to replace his.

Of pretending, with him. 

The circles practiced, leaving him to concentrate on his own end. Soft panting cries pulling from you as the pounding of his hips drags you closer. 

He’s close, as well. Those sharp thrusts growing shallow, messy. Letting go of your thighs, letting them wrap around his waist as he drives you into the padded mats. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing against your jaw. Tongue dipping out to drag against a spot on your neck that makes you go slack in his arms. 

“Should mate you,” He rasps. Teeth pinching down, where his tongue just was, “Bite you right here. Make you mine.”

The words tip you over the edge. A ragged gasp as your pussy clamps down around him, blood thundering in your ears. Nails catching on the panels of his suit as you cling to him, moans ripped from your throat as you pulse around him in time with your thudding heartbeat.

There’s no sharp bite of teeth. Just a muffled groan against your skin as he grasps at your hips. The sharp feeling of pressure increasing, as something thick works its way inside you. You keen as it stretches you, swelling so he can’t withdraw. 

Twin ragged moans, as you’re joined together. 

He comes with you squirming on his knot, his lips pressed against your throat. Sweet nothings murmured - “squeezing me so fucking tight, baby”, “gonna need you to take every drop, atta girl” - his cock throbbing as he spills inside you, pumping you full.

Still grinding into you. It draws your own orgasm out, with the way he’s rubbing against your walls, nothing left untouched. Overstimulation flickering at the corner of your mind, but you’re locked in place as he breeds you. 

Understanding what he meant by using you - you feel it now. Fucked out and boneless and it sends another gush of sticky need between your thighs. 

The sharp, panting breath starts to ebb. The ghost of his teeth becomes the nuzzle of his face, that strung-tight pull of his muscles turning liquid as he relaxes into your embrace. 

“Why were you so worried?”

It comes out hushed, in the now-silent room. You’re sore - will be, tomorrow. Pleasure-drunk certainly, but not quite as ruined as he promised. 

Almost to your disappointment. 

“That wasn’t too much.”

Logan laughs, the sound dripping with condescension. A flex of his hips, still knotted inside you. Cum leaking from your swollen pussy, smearing against your inner thighs.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He coos, “Ruts can last for days.”

His fingers drop, dragging through his spend. Finding your clit again, rubbing slick circles against the tight little bud. 

Intent on doing this one himself. 

“We’re only just getting started.”

[moodboard] // I had two ideas for his claws after the movie - this was the second one! This is my first time writing something like this, so keeping it a little light with the dynamics 💖 thanks for reading!

and speaking of - I have to link this amazing alpha!logan thot by the incredible @avocado-writing! please check it out! 💕

[solxamber]

Holding Them and Not Letting Go with: Housewardens + Jamil

a little something before i go all in for the milestone events <3

Other parts: Vice Housewardens + Rollo, Neige ; First Years

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle goes bright red the second you wrap your arms around him, stiffening in your hold like he’s forgotten how to breathe. He tries to splutter something coherent—maybe a reminder about PDA rules, maybe a request to know what’s going on—but his voice gets tangled up, and all that comes out is a confused murmur.

You don’t let go, though. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, prompting him to look down at you, his eyes widening with soft confusion. “Is… Is something wrong?” he stammers, gently pressing his hand to your shoulder, trying to read your face.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you answer with a warm smile. “I just love you, Riddle. That’s all.”

For a moment, he’s frozen. Just love him? He feels his heart stumble, so unfamiliar with this kind of simple, generous affection. In his childhood, hugs were formal gestures, love was measured and conditional—a reward to be earned, rarely felt freely. But here, with you… you’re holding him because you want to, with nothing expected in return.

Slowly, Riddle’s hands find their way to your back, and he pulls you close with a tenderness that surprises even him. There’s a quiet ache in his chest, an overwhelming mix of joy and disbelief, like he’s filling up with something he never knew he was missing. He clings to you, unable to speak, as though afraid that words might shatter the beautiful warmth settling between you.

You both stay like this, tangled together in silence. In this simple embrace, Riddle feels more seen, more loved, than he ever has before. It’s a feeling he wants to hold onto forever—a happiness he never thought he’d be allowed to have. For the first time, he feels completely at peace.

Leona Kingscholar

You wrap your arms around Leona, your grip firm as if you’ve decided you’re never letting go. At first, he’s as stoic as ever, arching an eyebrow in mild confusion. “Oi, herbivore…what’s this all about?” he mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

But when you stay silent, he lets out a chuckle, amused by your stubborn clinginess. “If you’re hoping to trap me, you might wanna try harder than that.”

After a few more moments, his teasing fades. You’re still holding him, your head resting against his chest, heartbeat steady against his. He tries to check if youre upset and realizes then that you’re not sad, nor do you seem upset; you’re simply content. When he starts to pull back to look at you, you give him a warm smile and quietly say, “I just…love you.”

The words wash over him, soft and simple yet deeply affecting. His expression shifts, from nonchalance to something much more vulnerable. To Leona, who’s spent much of his life overshadowed, unwanted, and fighting for recognition, the idea of being someone’s first choice feels like an impossibility.

And yet, here you are, holding onto him like he’s the only thing that matters. He swallows hard, not saying anything, but the look in his eyes says it all.

He finally allows his arms to come around you, drawing you in with more intensity than he’d probably ever admit aloud. His tail snakes around your waist in a protective loop, pulling you even closer, as if anchoring himself to you. “Don’t go getting mushy on me,” he mutters, trying to sound unaffected, but his grip tightens just a bit more.

But despite his usual attitude, he’s never felt this…full. Full of pride, full of warmth, full of something he’s struggled to admit he even wanted. And it’s all because of you, the one person who looked past his rough edges and stubborn exterior.

He chuckles softly, burying his face in your shoulder, whispering, “Guess you got yourself a lion for life, herbivore.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is hunched over his desk, papers and ledgers strewn around him, eyebrows furrowed as he works late into the night. He’s so engrossed that he doesn’t even notice you approaching until you gently climb onto his lap, resting yourself against him without a word. His body goes rigid in surprise, the usual control he wields over his composure completely shattered.

“Are you... feeling alright?” he asks, voice a little breathless, struggling to keep himself calm as you press your face into the crook of his neck. “Are you sick? Is there something wrong?”

You just shake your head, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I just love you, Azul,” you whisper softly, a warmth in your gaze that sends his heart into overdrive. “And I’m so proud of you.”

With that, you wrap your arms around him again, holding him close, and suddenly, all the strength in him unravels. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this—how much he craved reassurance, wanted to know he was worth it.

All his insecurities, fears, and memories of feeling out of place resurface, but they’re softened by your presence, and with just one hug, you’re able to ease away all that self-doubt he keeps buried.

Without another word, he wraps his arms tightly around you, his grip firm and filled with an unspoken desperation. He clings to you as though you’re his lifeline, as though you’re the single steady point in his otherwise frantic world, and for a few moments, he allows himself to just feel—to let go of the worries, to set aside the constant weight of expectations.

The mountain of paperwork on his desk feels meaningless compared to the comfort you bring, and all he wants is to stay like this, holding you as closely as he can, reveling in the feeling of being loved for who he is.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is in his element, animatedly discussing ideas for his next big celebration. His hands gesture widely, his voice bright, detailing elaborate plans for decorations, food, entertainment—he's clearly in his happy place, and you can’t help but feel utterly captivated by his joy.

Without even thinking, you throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly mid-sentence. Kalim laughs, hugging you back with his usual enthusiasm, though a bit of surprise colors his expression when you show no signs of letting go. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asks, a smile in his voice.

You lean back just enough to grin up at him, eyes shining. “I’m perfectly okay. You just looked so radiant talking about the party—and I love you.”

He stares at you for a beat, completely dazzled, and then his face breaks into the brightest smile as he spins you around, laughter bubbling from both of you. When he finally sets you down, he pulls you close, cradling you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“I’m so glad you chose me,” he murmurs softly, his forehead pressing against yours. The simple joy radiates from him, a warmth and gentleness that wraps around you both. It’s a pure, unfiltered happiness that you feel too, knowing that you chose him, and he chose you.

You stay wrapped up in each other, reveling in that perfect moment, glowing with the warmth of shared love. For now, with his laughter filling the room and his arms securely around you, nothing else matters.

Jamil Viper

Jamil walks into his room, the exhaustion from managing Scarabia weighing heavily on his shoulders. But before he can even remove his shoes, you’re already there, waiting for him. Without a word, you step into his space, your arms winding around him in a gentle but firm embrace.

His body relaxes instantly, the stress of the day melting away as you run a soothing hand down his back. The warmth of your touch settles over him like a blanket, but after a few moments, he notices you haven’t let go. The silence stretches, and his concern grows.

He pulls back just slightly, searching your face with quiet intensity. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft, careful, as though bracing for something serious.

You meet his eyes with a smile, your voice tender but full of affection. “I’m fine. I just… I love you. I’m proud of everything you do. You work so hard, and I see all of it. I just wanted to be here, with you.”

A deep warmth spreads through Jamil at your words, the weight of the day almost forgotten as he pulls you back into him. This time, his hold is even tighter, more possessive, as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, this moment will vanish. His face buries itself into your neck, and he inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of you—your presence, your comfort.

For once, he allows himself to fully sink into the embrace, no longer needing to wear his usual mask.

With you, he doesn’t have to hold back his feelings. For the first time in what feels like forever, he lets his guard drop, the emotional wall he’s spent building his whole life crumbling in the warmth of your arms.

“I could stay like this forever,” he whispers, the words barely audible as he holds you close. His voice is thick with emotion, a mixture of tenderness and longing. “I never want to leave your side.”

In the comfort of your touch, Jamil realizes something. He’s never felt more at peace, more cared for, than he does in this moment. He holds you tighter, savoring the feeling of being loved so deeply, so completely. No matter what happens, he knows this is where he belongs—in your arms, and with your heart.

Vil Schoenheit

It’s been a long day, and by the time you reach Vil, all you want is to collapse into his arms. But before you can even speak, he’s already analyzing you, frowning at your slumped posture, the bags under your eyes, and the way you haven’t had time to take care of yourself. "Did you eat today? Are you even sleeping? Honestly, I can't—"

And before he can finish his lecture, you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

He catches you with his usual elegance, barely flinching. His lips curl in that slight, amused way, but the concern in his eyes softens as you cling to him, not letting go.

"Darling, What's wrong?" he asks, his voice taking on a gentler tone as he instinctively pulls you closer. You can feel the smoothness of his coat beneath your fingers as you bury your face in his chest.

"I missed you," you murmur. "I'm just happy to see you. I love you. And I love that you worry about me."

Vil’s chest tightens at your words, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him. He gently strokes your back, the movement slow, deliberate. “You’re something else,” he teases, his lips twitching, but there’s warmth in his voice. “You know you should’ve eaten something, and yet here you are, throwing yourself at me.”

His hands remain on you, though, pulling you closer, stroking your back with a tenderness he rarely shows in public. He may pretend to be exasperated, but the way his fingers gently brush the length of your spine betrays his true feelings. Deep down, he’s touched by how much you put up with him.

"You should be scolded for your own good," he starts, but it’s a half-hearted attempt. There’s no real bite to his words this time. Instead, he just holds you tighter, deciding that, just for tonight, you don’t need any more lectures.

“You’ll never be rid of me now,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re welcome to lean on me, always.”

In the comfort of his embrace, you let go of the day’s stress, finding peace in the warmth of his arms. There’s no need for anything else, just this moment, just him.

Idia Shroud

Idia’s explaining the intricate details of a new strategy, his eyes wide with excitement. But then, suddenly, you set your controller down and throw yourself at him in an unexpected hug, effectively cutting off his speech. His hair flares a brilliant shade of pink as his brain momentarily glitches, clearly unsure of how to process what's happening.

And he is in full panic mode. His mind, always working a mile a minute, goes into overdrive trying to figure out what he did wrong, or if he's somehow messed things up.

“Uh—are you okay?” he stammers, voice filled with concern but entirely thrown off by the situation. You don’t answer with words, just a soft smile as you bury your face in his chest.

“I love you,” you whisper, “and you’re adorable.”

He’s used to being alone, to being misunderstood, to retreating into his games and hiding from the world. But here you are, in his arms, embracing him for no reason other than that you love him.

Despite his anxious thoughts swirling, he awkwardly places his arms around you, his body stiff at first, unsure of what to do. It takes him a moment before he relaxes, and as he holds you, his mind starts to clear. All those fears—of not being enough, or of being too much—slowly fade away, replaced by something that feels warm and real.

You, who listen to him ramble about things no one else would care about. You, who understand when he’s not up for going out, who accept him as he is. He feels so undeserving of someone so kind, but at the same time, something deep inside him stirs. It’s happiness. It’s love.

His arms tighten around you as he buries his face into your hair, his heart racing with a mixture of overwhelming joy and disbelief. He’ll never understand why someone like you would choose him, but as long as you’re here, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus stands before you, holding the gargoyle he crafted with such care, the stone masterpiece shimmering in the soft light. "This is for you," he says softly, his voice full of pride. His eyes shine with the unspoken hope that you’ll appreciate the effort.

Before he can say anything else, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. He freezes for a moment, unsure, before his own arms encircle you with surprising gentleness. He’s always craved touch, but the depth of affection you offer fills him with awe.

The two of you stand there, the moment stretching on in comfortable silence, until Malleus pulls back slightly, his eyes searching your face. "Are you alright?" His voice holds a hint of concern.

You smile at him softly, your words simple but filled with a warmth he rarely hears: "You mean the world to me. I love you."

Malleus's breath catches in his throat, and before he can think, his arms tighten around you. He pulls you impossibly closer, as if afraid you’ll slip away. His heart races as he feels the weight of your love, the pure acceptance and tenderness you give him. The loneliness he’s lived with for so long, the misunderstandings, the isolation—none of it matters now.

He’s here with you. You see him, not as a prince or a fae of great power, but simply as Malleus. And that, more than anything, fills him with a kind of peace he’s never known.

Malleus buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tightly as if to make sure this moment doesn’t slip away. "I will never forget this," he murmurs softly. "I will cherish you... forever."

In your embrace, he finds something he thought was impossible—a sense of belonging. He smiles, feeling the warmth of your love seep into him, and he knows he is truly loved.

Masterlist

[scoriarose]

When it is their idea to be cute together

Meet me halfway, friend!

They wanted to spend time with me too. C:

We are a happy little family, and I am glad they accept me even though I lack the serpentine features they share. It took Sakura a while to not see me as just a scary creature, and now a fun but sometimes startling friend. With time I think she'll trust more. Especially now I've realized she recognizes a hand signal as "the hognoses twitch" and learned how to tell her in her language I am friendly.

Trying to get pics of your pets be like

[angelfic]

thinking about JASON TODD watching you get ready for the day.

part of his morning routine is watching you do yours. he’s lounging on your bed, mindlessly scrolling on his phone as he waits for you to get out of the shower, looking up curiously when he hears the water shut off.

a few seconds later, you’re stepping out of the bathroom, steam curling into the bedroom as you towel dry your hair.

jason watches you like it’s his day job. he’s got nowhere better else to be, nothing else to do except lay on your shared bed, one arm tucked behind his head as he watches you move through your routine.

you grab your moisturiser, lathering up with a scent that jason always finds delicious enough to eat (he’s probably going to bite you later).

when you’re satisfied with your dewy, hydrated skin, you pick out a couple of tops, considering them with just as much indecision as before. he tries not to laugh when you huff, arms sore from holding them both up against the mirror. eventually, like always, you turn to him and hold them up in question.

“black one,” he replies easily. he’d already chosen a favourite, but he likes it when you ask for his opinion.

you blow him a quick kiss and start dressing, before moving on to sit at your vanity.

he loves this bit, watching you apply every cream and serum with intense concentration. fuck knows what they’re all for, but he happily walks around for hours, holding the basket as you shop for them and he’ll happily sit and watch as you apply them.

you never rush the next part, applying droplets of foundation to your glowing skin and taking your time to blend it in. concealer is next, and then the coloured products.

when you’re applying the bronzer, you tilt your head and assess the angles of your cheekbones carefully and he finds himself mirroring you, enraptured.

blush comes next, swirling onto the apples of your cheek generously and giving you that soft flush of colour that he loves seeing on you. he makes a mental note to compliment that more.

sometimes you forgo eyeliner and jason himself a little disappointed. the way your brows furrow and your hand is steady as a rock as you swipe on the dark lines is like nothing he’s seen before. and considering his job, he’s often in high stress situations.

when you apply the mascara, making your lashes thick and dark, jason exhales as you blink at yourself in the mirror. your eyes might be his favourite feature of yours.

as soon as jason hears the familiar chime of different lipsticks clinking together in your drawer, he sits up slightly. just like everything else, he knows you’re going to struggle deciding on a shade.

after a whole minute of you uncapping and capping liner after lipstick after lip gloss, he finally gets up and leans down behind you, arms snaking around your waist. jason rest his chin on your shoulder and nods to your obscene collection of lip products.

“use the red one that you like,” he mumbles, voice muffled by your neck.

“you mean the red one that you like?” you shoot back at him, raising a brow in the mirror.

“semantics.”

you laugh, uncapping the product before dabbing it onto your lips. jason doesn’t even realise he’s staring so hard in the mirror until you turn around to look at him, cupping his face in your hands. “satisfied?” you ask, grinning.

he hums, distracted by your lips and he can’t help himself from sneaking a kiss. the colour is practically hypnotic on you, so you can’t really blame him for going in for another one. or two.

a/n; rip jason todd you would have loved clinique black honey and elf jam session

[dumbbitchgalore]

Happy Wife, Happy Life 🤷🏽‍♀️ (🌽 Link)

Old Man!Price with a huge beer belly is always excited when you cook him a home cooked meal.

During his time in the SAS, John would absentmindedly fantasise about the bliss of domesticity. Of coming home to a well-loved house filled with knick-knacks with you giving John a soft smile while telling him that dinner will be on the table in a few.

Sometimes John tries to think about what religious good that he has ever done to have you in his life and he is fully convinced that domestic bliss does not exist without you in it. Pride and pity fills him up when he thinks about all the sad bastards out there who have never had the privilege of seeing you.

With all those years of training, he's developed some self restraint. He doesn't pounce straight away, wanting to take his sweet time with you.

John will sit in the living room watching you cook a hearty meal for the two of you, in your apron and not so cute pyjamas underneath which gives you such a wifely hue that he can never get over.

You plate dinner up and fix the dining table for dinner before you beckon him to sit down and eat. The mundanity of the conversation is what makes John's mind run a mile a minute. Having a beautiful wife, a delicious meal and talking about anything and everything that does relate to work. He can finally switch his mind off, he's away from the screams and shouts of the battlefield and is in the security of the four walls you share together,

Instead of the cries of the innocent and the ricochet of rockets banging in his eardrums, it's your sweet voice and loud laughs that echo in his ear like the melody of sirens. He's entranced and he only falls deeper. After dinner, John will help you clear the table, wash the dirty dishes and put away the leftovers for tomorrow's lunch.

You and John both walk to your bedroom and make your way to the en suite with John tailing behind you. Getting started with your nightly routine, he'll walk up behind you slowly yet purposefully, resting his hands on your hips before snaking his burly arms around your waist with your back flush against his chest, earning a chuckle from you. 

A searing kiss on your shoulder, making his way to the curve of your neck, licking and nipping. Your face begins to flush and feel hot. A quiet, content sigh leaves your lips as John nuzzles into your neck with one hand squeezing your tits occasionally pinching your nipple. 

“Come on, petal. The bed’s right there.” He’ll murmur against your skin like a lovesick puppy. 

You try to protest only to have John already tugging you away from the bathroom sink to the bed. He’ll push you into the bed, settling in between your thighs. John will look up, hungry, desperate and absolutely pathetic. Peppering your inner thigh with chaste kisses, he makes his way to your clothed cunt. 

“Been missing this good girl.” John buries his face into your cunt as it begins to soak your panties slightly. Groaning at the scent of you, he sucks on your panties. His saliva mixing with the arousal staining your panties. Eyes dilating as your soft mewls reverberate off the walls, John gets drunk of your noises. 

“Forgot to take Viagra, hun. It’s just my mouth and hands for the night.” He looks at you apologetically. 

You groan, hastily taking off your panties before shoving his face forcefully into your sopping pussy.

“More than enough, big bear.” A shudder gasp leaves your lips as John sucks on your clit, your thighs lock his head in place, pulling him even closer than before. 

Blissful domesticity. John’s addiction.

[6toru]

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

synopsis. after many failed attempts of finding love, the end of your most recent relationship seemed to take the cake. just as you were about to believe that, maybe, romance was simply not in the works for you — fate had different plans, taking in the form of an app called heartchat.

pairing. gojo satoru x fem!reader genre. office au + s2l & smut cw. mature content (mdni), kinda fast-paced, phone sex, voice kink, public sex, rough sex, dirty talk / explicit language, pussy drunk!gojo, big dick!gojo, use of alcohol, annoying ex

wc. 14.6k

author's note. inspired by the manwha 'superstitious nine'! + another one of my top fav works ! enjoy & happy reading everyone <3

Throughout your twenty seven years of living, it was fair to say that you had little to no luck with men, although it was something that you’ve long grown accustomed to, or at least, tried to. Usually, it would’ve been easy to shrug off your misfortunes by telling yourself that you’d only be saving yourself from further disappointment, but nowadays, it’s gotten harder to ignore the vexatious turmoil steadily building up within your chest while you watch all your friends, one by one, get their happy ending and starting their families with their first love. You’d only gotten into three relationships, however none of them turned out successful – your first one being in your last year of highschool and your second being in your first year of college – none of which lasted more than a few months and kiss on the lips was the furthest thing you’d gotten. However, if your first two relationships disappointed you, then your third one would be a complete understatement. 

Zen’in Naoya was a man of many facades, and you were a fool to believe that there’d be good in any of them. 

Zen’in Naoya, heir of the ZEN corporate, also known as the general manager of your silly office job, was popular amongst the ladies for his good looks and charisma. The mere mention of his name gave a sour taste on your tongue. If you could describe this man in one single word, it would be suffocating. Beneath that charismatic exterior of his was a serpent ready to pounce on his prey when it was the time he deemed as fit.

In your pathetic, desperate attempt to chase after the love that you yearned for, you believed that he loved you. You believed that he loved you despite keeping your relationship a secret, his excuse being that he couldn’t allow himself to be seen romantically with a commoner. You believed that he still loved you when he’d act as if you were invisible as he entertained the other female workers. You believed that he still loved you when he’d sneak jealous glances towards you while you spoke with your other male coworkers. You believed his sweet, empty lies and you always ate them all up as if they were candy. Being with him felt suffocating – the mere idea of being kept as his secret lover, his toy – it was too much for you to bear, wishing for something more with someone who’d easily toss you to the side after playing with your emotions. 

A damned fool, that’s what you were. If present you could smack past you, you would’ve and made sure that it left a warm, red print on it, too.

It was about time that you ended things with the Zen’in heir, after being involved with the snake for six months. If someone were to ask you why you hadn’t left earlier, you wouldn’t be able to tell them – not that anyone would ask anyways, your relationship with that man was something that you’d keep to your grave, entertaining him for half a year straight was already too humiliating to bear. 

You shook your head rapidly as if it could swat those inappropriate and intrusive thoughts away from your mind. ‘It’s wrong to be thinking about these damn things during your best friend’s wedding, get a grip of yourself!’ 

Your fingers danced around the empty wine glass, your other palm resting on the sides of your cheeks as your gaze surveyed the reception hall. The music was blaring and you could make out the sight of your best friend, Riko, having the best time of her life dancing with her newly wedded husband. You cracked a small smile at the sight. She looked absolutely beautiful in the gown, and she definitely shone the brightest in the room. She glanced over to you, smiling widely as she blew multiple kisses and hearts your way and you laughed at Riko's adorable burst of energy.

You returned your attention to your empty wine glass, silently contemplating whether or not you should get a third glass.

“Y/N, babe, what are you doing out here drinking alone?” Ren, one of the bridesmaids – and one of your childhood friends, chimed in. You jumped a little at her sudden appearance, and then you followed with a light giggle. “It’s been a while since I drank something, I was honestly craving for some wine.”

“Is it just cravings?” She questioned, leaning towards you with her palm propped against her cheek and she stared at you intently. “You usually don’t enjoy drinking alone when you’re bothered about something. You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“Am I that easy to read?” You complained jokingly.

Ren rolled her eyes at your response before grinning. “Yes. Now spill.”

“I recently ended things with someone,” you said, keeping it fairly vague. “I just wish I did it sooner, you know? Instead of making a fool out of myself…”

Right after you said that, you could tell that she wanted to know who the mystery man was but she relented. For a minute she stayed silent, and it seemed like she was trying to formulate the right words in her brain and 50 different combinations. 

“He already sounds like a pretty shitty guy,” Ren muttered under her breath before glancing back up at you with curious eyes, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what do you plan on doing next? Like, do you plan on being sad forever or…?”

“Being sad forever sounds good enough to me,” you joked, only to receive a light smack on the shoulder. 

“Bad!” Ren laughed before pausing once more. “Anyways, I was just about to ask you if you were okay with trying something new. I think it could, you know, be entertaining for you.”

“New? And what  do you mean entertaining—?”

“—Give me your phone, and I’ll show you!”

You were getting curious now. Raising a brow, you handed her your phone and she snatched it away from your grasp while cackling evilly. Minutes later, she handed you your phone and all that you could make out is a bright pink background and a heart in the middle. HeartChat, it reads. “What’s this supposed to be?” You questioned your friend.

“It’s something fun,” she replied, laughing giddily. “After work, when you get home, have some beer – and once you feel yourself getting drunk, use the app that I downloaded before you go to bed. Got it?”

“This looks a lot like tinder,” you remarked, not looking very convinced with your friend’s words. You weren’t the type to use dating apps, after all. 

“I promise you, you’ll be far more entertained.” Ren winked. 

The blaring sound of your alarm resonated across the room, and you emitted a heavy, gruff sigh. Seven o’clock, it reads on your bright phone screen. You continued to stare at the screen for a couple more seconds, your body feeling lethargic and overall heavy from fatigue. You shouldn’t have left the reception so late. Groaning in disdain, you forced yourself up from the comfort of your bed and began your morning routine. It was around seven forty five when you finished, and with quick fingers, you grabbed your work ID, wallet and keys and shoved them into your bag before rushing outside your apartment. The walk to the nearest bus stop should take around four minutes, you thought to yourself. 

Myriads of thoughts slipped in your mind as you walked closer to your bus stop, ready to consume you whole. You hadn’t seen Naoya for a week already since the day you left him, and needless to say that week had been one of the most peaceful weeks you’ve ever had since stepping foot in that workplace. 

Sighing, you sat down on the bench and fixed the hem of your pencil skirt. Glancing at the time on your phone, seven-fifty, it read. The bus should be arriving very soon. 

It was eight-ten when you arrived at work, and you rushed across the building — making a beeline towards the elevator.

Just as the elevator was about to close, a hand peeks out through the gaps, thus the elevator opening and it took all your self-control to stop yourself from scowling. 

“It’s been a while,” Naoya walked in, feigning a smile. “It’s been a week, Mr. Zen’in.” you returned the smile. 

The elevator closes, leaving you confined with the man you desperately wanted to avoid. He turns his head slightly to face you, his eyes boring into yours. There was an uncomfortable tension lingering in the thick air. It seemed like he had many things to say to you but he relented, and you’d rather he keep it that way.

You looked away from the man, grabbing your phone in your bag. You pretended to scroll through your phone to pass the time. 

After what it seemed like an eternity, the door to your floor opened and you rushed to your desk.

 The Zen’in heir followed suit, heading towards his office. You could hear the whispers from your colleagues, theorizing as to where he might’ve gone in the previous week. You continued to set up your desk. You could honestly care less about the man’s business, though. 

The rest of the morning was spent with you answering phone calls, typing, printing out papers, organizing files – the usual, might you add. Occasionally you’d stare at Ren’s empty desk and silently make wishes that she’d just appear – you already knew that she was probably having the time of her life sleeping in on her day off. 

It was already time for your lunch break, if it weren’t for your two coworkers practically dragging you out of your desk you would’ve actually continued working until evening. 

“Y/N, you gonna join us for dinner and drinks next weekend?” Your coworker, Haruto, questioned. You chewed on your lunch silently, thinking of an answer while he and Hirumi.  waited with an eager expression. “I’m down,” you replied before teasing your friend, “is it going to be on you?”

“You wish,” Haruto rolled his eyes before taking a bite out of the onigiri he bought from the cafeteria, “boss said that everything’s going to be on him.”

You paused briefly. “That’s a first.”

“Right? This is the first time he’s actually gone out to join us for dinner. All it took was for Emi to invite him and he actually agreed.” Himari added. 

A part of you wanted to turn around and tell them that you had plans, but a part of you already knew that there really was no point avoiding Zen’in Naoya. He was your boss after all, and as long as he didn’t give you a hard time at work, you were content. You were sure that even after you ended your questionable relationship with him, he’d still act indifferent. It was already a given that his status and reputation were the two most important things to him, so you convinced yourself that acting as if nothing had happened was the best possible solution.

“Hi,” a sudden voice caught your attention and you quickly glanced up from your meal to meet gazes with Emi, your new colleague. You remembered when she was first introduced, she was immediately loved by everyone due to her kind and bubbly nature despite the young woman being a little clumsy at her job. She appeared shy in front of your presence and she gave you a soft smile. “Can I join you guys?”

“Yes, yes! Come sit with us!” Haruto replied, almost immediately and almost too enthusiastically. Emi took a seat next to him and she exchanged polite greetings with everyone. 

“Emi, just curious, how did you manage to bring Mr. Zen’in along? This is actually the first time he’s ever agreed to come join us for dinner and drinks.” Himari asked almost immediately and Emi’s cheeks were flushed a pale pink, surprised at her sudden question. You almost felt bad for Emi, watching her immediately getting put on the spot by your friend. Himari had always been the curious and nosy type, always needing some fresh gossip or anything to satiate her curiosity. 

“I didn’t know about that,” she replied, laughing shyly before locking eyes with yours. “When I asked him while we were getting coffee, he agreed immediately. But now that Himari told me that, I’m just as surprised.”

“Also,” Emi said, “Y/N, are you going to come too?”

You nodded your head in response while you took a small sip from your water bottle. 

“That’s great!” She clasped her hands together. “This would be both Y/N and Mr. Zen'in’s first time joining for dinner and drinks, then!”

You raised a brow at this. The way she put so much emphasis on you and your boss seemed a little uncanny – and you weren’t going to ignore the way she looked at you when she talked about him, either. You waved it off, though. Perhaps you were overthinking things and still felt somewhat cautious around the topic of your ex — if it was even right to be considered one, as embarrassing as that sounded.

After all, she was the flower of the office. 

“Yeah, our Y/N’s been too much of a hard worker.” Haruto added before turning over to you, too. “I’m even surprised that you agreed. Imagine if you didn’t go – that would’ve been the third time this year.” 

“She is someone that I look up to a lot,” Emi said briefly, giving you a soft smile. Not long after, she excused herself from the table. You silently watched her figure disappear the farther she walked. You glanced at the time on your phone and you sighed softly, you were going to have to return soon. 

It was nearing seven in the evening when you arrived back at your apartment, immediately plopping down onto your couch and grabbing your phone. For several minutes, you boredly scrolled through your phone before you suddenly remembered what Ren had told you last night: “After work, when you get home, have some beer – and once you feel yourself getting drunk, use the app that I downloaded before you go to bed. Got it?”

After changing into your pajamas and bringing your can of beer with some pork cutlet along with some dessert, you plopped back down on the couch. Opening the app on the phone, you raised your brows at your phone being bombarded with pink hearts before revealing the introduction page.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ WELCOME TO HEARTCHAT ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚  if you're looking for a little bit of spice, you have come to the right place!  before proceeding with the app, please confirm your age and date of birth: [date] / [month] / [year]

You followed the instructions, and surprisingly, that was all it took for you finish making your profile — if it was even considered to be one. There was no name, no profile picture, or no biography asked. "Interesting," you muttered to yourself as you explored the app.

Not even a minute later, your phone pinged.

M 0524454: you married? proceed to chatroom? yes | no

Not even a hello? You decided to ignore the message, taking another sip out of the beer can. You turned the television on, watching a drama that Hirumi once recommended you while you ate your pork cutlet bowl. It wasn't until nearly twenty minutes that you received another text, and this time you could only stare at your screen in pure confusion and disbelief.

M 0497205: ntmy, hoay proceed to chat room? yes | no

"What the hell do those even mean?" You mumbled to yourself, staring at the screen with heavy eyelids as you declined the person's request. Looking at all those abbreviations were about to give you one hell of a headache, combined with the beer.

M 0529485: age? proceed to chatroom? yes | no

"Entertaining, my ass." You muttered as you pressed your cool palms against your flushed cheeks, swiftly declining the person's request to chat. At this point, you were beginning to question why Ren downloaded this app on your phone in the first place. There was nothing entertaining except for the confusing text abbreviations appearing on the screen.

Just as you were about to close the app and call it a night, your phone pinged once more.

M 0337411: Hello. proceed to chatroom? yes | no

'Finally, someone normal." You thought to yourself, your finger hovering over the 'yes' option. 'If this person's not any good, I'll delete the app.'

F 0236113: Hello. M 0337411: Have you eaten dinner, yet?

'Oh, he's polite too!' You grinned, and you got yourself more comfortable on the couch -- laying on your stomach as your feet dangled in the air. You took a bite out of your kikufuku, munching happily as you texted the stranger.

F 0236113: I just had some pork cutlet. What about you? M 0337411: That's funny. I also had pork cutlet for dinner. M 0337411: I'm eating kikufuku right now for dessert. F 0236113: No way. That's crazy because I'm also eating kikufuku. M 0337411: Imagine if we have the same flavour too F 0236113: Okay in three seconds we'll tell each other the flavour of our kikufuku F 0236113: Zunda and cream  M 0337411: Zunda and cream M 0337411: It appears we have something in common.

You giggled a little, feeling your cheeks flush even more, unknowing if it was from the beer or from the excitement of clicking so quickly with a stranger -- or both. 

F 0236113: Can I ask you something then? F 0236113: Which do you prefer: shoyu or tonkotsu ramen? M 0337411: Tonkotsu. F 0236113: I prefer tonkotsu, too. F 0236113: I promise i'm not copying you. M 0337411: Let me make sure. M 0337411: Do you like dorayaki or warabi mochi? F 0236113: Warabi mochi. Especially with the syrup! M 0337411: Ah, me too. The syrup makes everything better. M 0337411: I wasn't trying to copy you either. F 0236113: Would you consider yourself to be a sweets type of person? M 0337411: I'd consider myself one, yes. I mostly eat sweets because they stimulate my brain.  F 0236113: I think sweets also gives me the same effects.  M 0337411: You sure you're not copying me this time? F 0236113: I'm not!!  M 0337411: Hard boiled egg or soft boiled egg? F 0236113: Soft boiled  M 0337411: Soft boiled F 0236113: Hot soba vs cold soba? M 0337411: Cold F 0236113: Cold!

You kicked your legs in the air, giggling. Who could've expected that you'd have so many things in common with a stranger. You continued to text the stranger for what it seemed like an hour, or two. Any remnants of fatigue from work had evaporated like water.

F 0236113: What else do you like?  M 0337411: Can I say something a little strange then?  F 0236113: Sure, what is it?

The stranger didn't text right away, this time. It was silent on your end for almost two minutes. You were about to open your second can of beer until you heard your phone ping.

M 0337411: I like phone sex.  M 0337411: Do you want to try having phone sex with me?

You almost choked on your spit, staring at the screen with wide eyes. If your cheeks had gotten any more hotter, it definitely wouldn't have been caused by the beer at all. Phone sex. Has this man gone mad? Your stomach churned a little and you felt your heart rate steadily increasing. You could only stare at his response, completely flabbergasted.  Was this was Ren meant by entertaining?

F 0236113: Sure, why not?

However, it wasn't like you hated it. You were unsure if the main source of your arousal was from the beer or simply from the excitement you felt towards engaging in such acts with a man whose face you've never seen — let alone know their name. Nevertheless, you didn't want to miss this chance.

His response was almost immediate, your phone ringing against the oak table — the sound of the app's ringtone playing repeatedly as you slowly brought your phone to your ear and pressed 'answer'.

"Hello?" A deep, baritone voice filled the silence and you swore if your cheeks weren't burning hot before — they definitely were now. His voice was definitely your type.

"H-Hello," you stammered, an immediate wave of shyness hitting you.

"Your voice," he began, "were you drinking?"

"How did you know?" You questioned him. Was it that obvious?

"You're stalling your words a little bit.” He commented before, a soft laugh leaving his lips soon after.

Stop. Even his laugh is sexy.

“I-Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “your voice sounds really good. It’s cute, too.”

'It's cute, too'

You felt your body heat up even more. Something about his voice made you feel like melting in a pool of your own heat — perhaps it was the way he drags his voice, or perhaps it was because of how deep his voice is, or perhaps it was the way he sounded like he came out of a porno or drama CD — and as much as you hated to admit it, it was so obvious that this stranger had reduced you into a horny and nervous mess.

"I like your voice too," you confessed.

"Oh? Is that right?"

"Yes."

You could hear the man chuckle a little before speaking again, "You'll hear much more of it very soon."

You blushed even more at his words. Was this man teasing you?

“Then, where are you right now?” He questioned. 

“Um, I’m on my couch right now in the living room.” You replied back to the man.

“The couch is pretty boring, don’t you think?”

“What makes you say that? I personally think it’s pretty comfy.”

"I do too, but the space's pretty narrow for you to be thrashing around while I fuck you, no?”

“T-that’s true,” you stammer out. You were really going to melt right there and then.

“Let’s move to the bed, then.”

The moment you stood up from your couch, you thought you were going to fall right back down. You could practically hear your heart beating through your ears, growing louder and louder, as you neared the bedroom.

"Are you nervous?" The man questioned you, the timbre in his voice sent shivers down your spine.

"Just a little bit," you confessed, "I've never done this before."

"It'll be okay. Just give me the red light, and we'll stop. Sounds good?"

You hummed in response as you entered your room and plopped down your bed.

"I'm guessing you're on the bed now."

"Hm, that's right."

Your ears flushed red when you heard the man’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Well then, want to take your pants off?”

“Actually,” you giggle, “I’m not wearing pants right now.”

“Haah, fuck.” The man groaned from the opposite line. “You’re doing this on purpose, huh?”

“Why won’t you strip out of your shirt then, princess? Do it nice and slow for me.”

You placed your phone down on the nightstand, and you followed the man’s instructions; slow hands the hem of your shirt before you pulled it over your head — you were practically naked now, all that was left were your panties.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice breathless.

“It’s your turn,” you said breathlessly, “to take off your shirt.”

“As you wish.”

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and pressed it against your ear, you could faintly hear the man unbuttoning his shirt before it dropped down to the ground, and lewd thoughts immediately came rushing into your mind, the heat pooling between your legs becoming even more unbearable.

“Anything else you want me to do?”

“Take off your pants,” you ordered, your voice quiet.

You could hear shuffling on the other end once more, your imagination running wild as the sounds of the belt unbuckling and dropping to the floor resonated in your ear as if it was a mild echo. He must be tall, judging from how long it took off his clothes. You closed your eyes, imagining that you were there with him, watching as he stripped out of his clothes in front of you.

“I’m all naked now,” the man finally said.

A soft moan slipped past your lips almost immediately after he uttered those words, your hips involuntary bucked against the mattress.

“Does my voice turn you on?” He questions you in a teasing tone, but it was evident that he was just as affected as you were.

“Yeah,” you admitted bashfully, your voice breathless.

“Your voice is a huge turn on for me too,” said the man, “turns me on so much that I wanted to things like this the moment I heard your voice.”

How could he sound so composed? You attempted to stifle a small whine — his voice and your imaginations were driving your senses wild. Despite being all alone in your bedroom, you swore that you could feel strong hands trailing their way down your body, travelling lower and lower.

“Now then,” he began, “put your hand in your panties and softly rub your clit for me.”

With shaking hands, you followed his commands in concupiscent obedience, slipping your right hand into your panties and rubbing the sensitive bud with your pointer and middle finger.

“Mhhm, aah.”  You were already breathless, despite it merely being the beginning. You could hear the faint noises of the male jerking off in the other line, his soft groans were music to your ears.

“I need more,” you panted, “I wan’ more.”

“Take off your panties, then, and continue rubbing that pretty pussy of yours with more pressure.”

The speed you took your panties off was almost embarrassing, knowing that a stranger — whose name and whose face you’ve never seen before — managed to reduce you into a desperate mess with just his voice. Plopping your back down on the bed, you spread your legs wide as your hand slowly returned to the sensitive bud.

Your soft moans of wanton filled the room, only getting louder from hearing the man groan. You imagined him on top of you, his breath hot in your ear — as he rubs your clit greedily with his large hands. You could feel your body growing lighter the more you continued with the assault on your clit. The pressure in your abdomen continued to build up, and your moans were raising in volume — sounding more lewder. You were getting closer to your orgasm, the sounds of the stranger playing with his cock along with his soft groans were itching you closer and closer to your release.

“I-I’m so close,” you let out a small whimper, bucking your hips desperately against your hand.

“Put your two fingers in,” the stranger said, almost in a pleading tone, “make yourself come like that, sweet girl. Imagine it’s me stretching that tiny hole of yours.”

You complied, inserting two fingers into your sopping wet cunt, sucking them in almost immediately. The wet sound of your pussy taking your fingers in made the man moan almost immediately.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Is that all for me, huh?”

You could only moan in response, your hips thrusting into your hands, trying to reach deeper.

“Go faster.”

You listened to him and you picked up the pace, the pressure building up in your abdomen steadily increasing the closer you got to your orgasm. The sounds of your sopping cunt filled the room, together with the sounds of your needy moans and whimpers as you went faster and faster. In your pornographic imagination, his large fingers replaced yours — toying with your hole as his other hand played with your nipple. “Mhhm,” you arched your back, “I’m so so close, please—Ah!”

“Keep going princess, and don’t you dare stop.”

As if his words had cast a spell on you, your pace increased and your moans gotten even louder. Your imagination getting more and more vivid by the second.

"I'm cumming -- I'm cumming!" you babbled out, crying out in a desperate moan as you arched your back, letting your orgasm wash over you.

“You’re such a good fucking girl,” the man groaned out, and you replied with a soft laugh through your heavy breathing.

“I’m so close,” he spoke through heavy breaths, “get on your knees and raise your ass up for me.”

You followed his words, adjusting your position on the soft mattress so that your chest was pressed against the mattress and your ass high up in the air. You could feel warm hands travelling down your back and up to your breast -- Fuck, you were sensitive all over.

"Oh, how I'd love to fuck you like this." He said, chuckling lowly as he breathed heavily. "Make yourself cum for me, again. Think about my cock fucking your pussy."

You moan at his lewd words, your hips bucking up as you entered your two fingers back into your sopping hole. Your fingers weren't enough to stretch you out. You wanted more. You needed more. Your hips thrusted back against your fingers, hungry for more friction. Scenarios of the stranger fucking you played in your mind like it was a porno movie, you could imagine his nails gripping into your hips, his cock reducing you into a dumb mess.

"Ahh-- Fuckk.. By the way you're moaning right now, I can tell that you're close to coming. I-I'm getting close too -- Ah. Let's cum together. Tell me when you're cumming, please."

There was a certain strain in the stranger’s voice as his pace on his cock quickened, his voice breathy and low as he muttered a jumble of praises. At this point, you felt yourself growing even more lightheaded while another moan leaves your drooling lips.

“I’m gonna cum,” you told the man in a breathless whimper, and you could hear the sound of fapping quickening in response to your words.

“Cum for me.”

And just like that, your mind went completely blank as you came in your hand. A muffled moan escaped your lips, your face pressed into the pillows.

The man lets out the most sexiest moan soon after, almost whimpering as he rode out his orgasm.

There was a minute of silence between you both, shaky breaths filling the room as you both attempted to control it. You rolled onto your back, staring at your hand which was drenched in your juices.

“How do you feel?” He later broke the silence, and you let out a soft laugh. “Really good,” you told him, “I enjoyed it a lot.”

“That’s good, I really liked it too.”

“You know,” you began, “you talk super differently on call compared to how you text.”

“Oh? You don’t like it? I thought you liked it.”

“I-I never said I didn’t like it!” You retorted. “It was just an honest observation.”

“Anyway,” you continued, “I’ve got to go now, it’s getting late now and I have work tomorrow…”

“Alright then,” replied the man, “but can we call again?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

It was a new day with same, old, usual routine. Groggily getting up from your bed as the sounds of the alarm blaring from your phone resonates athwart your bedroom. As if your body was set into auto-pilot, the rest of the early morning spent preparing for work turned into a blur, and it wasn't until now--while commuting to work--that you could feel your phone vibrating in your hand.

M 0337411: Good morning. Did you sleep well?

Oh.

Memories from last night suddenly came rushing in, and you never wanted anything more than to crawl into a hole and stay there, and rot for the rest of eternity. A warm incarnadine flush returns to your cheeks as you recollect the events that passed, the sheer embarrassment washing over you; the images of you -- evidently drunk, horny, and naked on your bed--engaging with such dirty acts with a stranger over the phone. A stranger.

It took almost everything in you to not scream in embarrassment in the bus, your palms lightly smacking your cheeks in hopes you'd cool off the heat in your cheeks. You were for sure going to melt.

Moments later, you found yourself staring at the tall glass building before you in a complete daze. All of a sudden, you didn’t really feel the need to work.

The rest of the morning was spent with staring mindlessly at the computer screen, restless fingers tapping on your desk. The computer was taking its sweet time connecting to the office printer, the ‘retry’ window popping up for the three tries you had attempted. Sighing softly, you slumped your back against your seat as you turned over to Ren, who busied herself with (discretely) playing solitaire on the computer.

Silently, you wondered how she’d react if you told her what had happened last night.

You switched your gaze back to your stubborn computer, eyes glaring into the bright screen — daring it to try defying you, one more time. With focused eyes, you watch as your computer slowly connects with the printer; silently praying that a ‘retry’ window wouldn’t appear this time.

Printer connected. 1 out 8 documents printing…

You clicked your tongue, the corners of your lips curling up into a small triumphant grin. It was about damn time. The weight on the plush of the chair was lifted once you stood up from your desk, adjusting the hem of your skirt as you made your way to the printer athwart the office. You lean your back slightly against the table, and you open your phone to pass time.

F 0236113: Good morning. I’m sorry I didn’t reply right away, I was caught up with work. How are you now? M 0337411: I'm so sleepy. I can't stop thinking about last night.  F 0236113: Last night? M 0337411: Don't tell me you forgot... You're despicable

You attempt to stifle a giggle at the man's texts, your hand covering your mouth in an effort (though, it was in vain) to hide the huge grin growing on your face. You knew very well about stranger danger, but for some odd reason, whenever you open your phone, you always —somehow— get gravitated towards him. Of course, you had your cautions, but if you told Ren that this app wasn't at the least amusing, you'd certainly be a whole ass liar.

F 0236113: I'm kidding. How can I ever forget that? M 0337411: Of course you can't. Care to remind me who said that my voice turned her on last night?  F 0236113: ...Who's the despicable one, now? M 0337411: You're not denying it.

Shaking your head in amusement, you stuffed your phone back inside the pocket of your blazer and you grabbed the finished documents out of the machine, and organizing the sheets of paper with one hand while reaching out for the nearest stapler in the other. As much as you were enjoying your silence, it wasn't long before it had to be interrupted. In your peripheral vision, you could make out someone's hand placing a cup of coffee on the table, and your gaze snapped over to a familiar blond male — his sharp eyes making it much easier to identify the man. You held yourself back from rolling your eyes, and you feigned a smile towards your boss.

"You've been working extra hard these days, Y/N." said Naoya. "Here, I got you one of your favourites."

"Thank you, Mr. Zen'in." You thanked the male as you grabbed the cup, it was your one of your favourites — one that he'd always get you back when you used to be together. "I was just about to hand you these documents."

You handed your boss the finished documents, ready to excuse yourself back to your desk.

"Hold on," Naoya said, "we still have some things to discuss."

What’s even there to discuss? You scoffed in your mind. Beyond a doubt, there was the slightest bit of hesitance into making your decision — however, you were more curious than you were cautious or nervous at this point.

"Okay," you said, smiling softly at the man. "What is it that you want to talk about, hm?"

Your soft words were laced with some form of venom, your eyes staring at the man expectantly.

"We can talk about it in my office," said Naoya before muttering, "follow me."

You followed Naoya compliantly, however, you couldn't ignore the unbearable tension filling the air between the both of you.  To be completely honest, you were beginning to regret even agreeing to follow him. Even if he had many things to discuss with you, what exactly could you reply to him with? Should you just stare at him and smile? Whilst rehearsing lines of excuses in your mind, you found yourself in his office, already seated on the sofa across from him.

"You moved on quite quickly," was the first thing Naoya uttered, breaking the awkward silence that had befallen you. "You already talking to someone new?"

"I honestly thought that our conversation would be work-related, was my judgement wrong? Besides, whether or not I moved on shouldn't be a concern to you." You replied, your usual (fake) soft tone now replaced with a certain sternness.

Naoya clicked his tongue, crossing his arms. The usual friendly, charismatic facade that he had always kept on eventually melted off -- his imperturable expression now plastered across his face. He raised an eyebrow towards you, his gaze locked onto yours with such intensity — at first glance, anyone could've easily mistaken it as some ardent desire.

"Is there anything else that you want to tell me?" You questioned him. "If not, I can just leave."

"You know, many days were spent with me wondering what went wrong between us to make you leave." He said before standing up from his couch, inching his way towards you. This ignorant fool. How could he act so stupid, unknowing of what caused the downfall of your relationship. He lowered himself, his eyes meeting your evidently vexed gaze.

"I missed you," he confessed, and you lightly scoffed at his words.

"Naoya," you said his name, your voice harsh, "everything was what went wrong in this relationship. You're my boss. There was no hope for the both of us -- I was practically invisible to you unless you needed something from me. Tell me this, Naoya, do you really mean it when you say you miss me? Or do you miss the woman that was easily wrapped around your finger?"

Naoya stared at you, shocked at your words before his lips curled up into a small smirk. A small chuckle left his lips, laced with contempt. “Now, what are you trying to say, Y/N?”

“What I’m saying is, Mr. Zen’in, don’t spout shit you obviously don’t mean. Besides, it appears to me that someone new caught your eye. Emi, was it?”

The mention of Emi was genuinely impulsive on your part, but you obviously had your suspicions with how easily he’d get swayed by her, and how fixated she was on the mere topic of the Zen’in heir, as well as how you noticed how close they’d been getting prior to the breakup — but his reaction told you everything you needed to know and you chuckled quietly.

Naoya’s facial expressions dropped, it was almost cold. You knew all too well that this man had a knack for control, but that gave you even more of a reason to not waver underneath his cold gaze. You knew, coming into his office, that you were going to have to play quite a difficult game with this man. You had already grown a skin of steel (at least you hope you did) from the constant gaslighting you had to endure from him.

"Y/N," he said your name sternly, "what the hell are you even saying right now? That doesn't make any sense—"

"—I have nothing left to say towards you, Mr. Zen'in." You said while smiling apathetically at the blond male, who seemed visibly displeased at your words. "Were you not even curious as to where I might've went this past week?"

No, not really. Over the course of time chasing after this man's love and affection, you soon realized that trying to save a relationship with a man who wouldn't even bother with you was straight up pointless. Over the course of time chasing after this man's love and affection, you realized that you no longer wanted to be concerned with him.

You heaved a sigh, shaking your head as you stood up from the sofa, making your way towards the door.

"I'll take my leave now, talking about this will only bring us nowhere. I suggest we continue acting like nothing happened between us — work will be easier for us that way.”

The Zen'in heir opened his mouth to retort, but no words could come out of his throat. He was a man who had grown accustomed to getting things his way throughout his twenty seven years of living, and to say that a mere employee could cast such an effect on him--there were many phrases that were forming in his mind, but he relented, once again.

Once again, he watched your figure getting farther away from the sofa, your hand reaching out of the door.

There was no way in hell that you’d allow to cross paths with him, or any man like him. Your relationship with him was awfully hot and cold — one day, he’d invite you to a hotel room under a false name, and shower you in his so called ‘love’, and the next day he’d treat you like you had never existed, flirting with all the other women who worked higher up in the hierarchy all the whilst giving you false reassurances. However, you knew far too well that your status could never satiate the man’s hunger for climbing up in the social ladder. All the fake love he gave you, and all the time and energy wasted on him — no matter what he chose to do next, for sure wouldn’t affect you.

You attempted to hide your shaky breaths. You had bursted out like that — not only towards your ex-boyfriend, but your boss. With slightly trembling hands, you twist the knob open, ready to dart out of the office and make a beeline towards the exit.

The door swung open, and rather than leaving immediately, you found yourself frozen in the doorway as you stare into bright, cerulean eyes with your watery ones.

"Oh? Am I interrupting something?"

Your eyes widened. That voice — his voice. Perhaps you were just overthinking, but it sounded all too familiar. No, you had to be overthinking. His ivory locks framed his pale face, his business formal attire adorning his tall, lean frame — his features, in general, were a literal godsend. He appeared incredibly rich and powerful, much like your boss, the Zen'in Naoya — if not, maybe even more. You mentally smacked yourself, how could you possibly make such baseless assumptions towards a man you had just seen.

"Gojo Satoru," Naoya said, his voice laced with obvious annoyance. "You should've texted me that you were arriving earlier than usual.”

Almost immediately, you moved out of the way, sending the tall man a small smile of acknowledgement as he entered the room. The white-haired male leaned against the wall beside you, rather than getting himself comfortable on the exorbitant-priced furniture.

“Sorry, sorry,” the man whose name was Satoru apologized weakly; his tone almost apathetic, “my flight arrived way earlier, and I was bored, so why not pass some time?”

The blond male tutted in response, shaking his head towards Satoru before darting his gaze over to you, whom in which made a discrete attempt to escape his office. “L/N,” Naoya called out your last name, his lips curled into a grin, “do you have time to show Gojo around the building?”

It was evident that Naoya wanted nothing to do with his guest, it was all plastered across his face.

Why couldn’t he do it himself? Why couldn't he call his secretary himself? You pondered to yourself as you returned the plastic smile, hoping that Naoya could see the vein that popped on your temple. You weren't in the mood to retaliate any longer, though. If this meant that you could leave his office, then it was fine.

"Yeah, of course." You switched your attention to the taller male, "Is there anywhere in the building that you haven’t seen yet?”

Gojo stared at you, almost surprised, for a moment before grinning. There was something in his gaze that made you want to shrivel up into a ball. As much as you wished to deny these intrusive thoughts that were lingering in the back of your mind, there was simply no way that he could be the stranger that you spoke to. However, the way he spoke — his pronunciation, his tone, the way he dragged his words, his voice — it was all too similar.

“Let’s get out of this office first, and then I’ll tell you.” Gojo said, smirking before shifting his gaze towards the glaring Zen’in.

The walk down the hallway was dreadfully silent. For a man like him who was verbose from the past minute, he was almost silent as you both headed for the elevator. “Mr. Gojo,” you said, breaking the silence, “is this your first time in the building?”

“Yeah,” he replied almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for you to speak. “By the way, your name is L/N…?”

“Y/N,” you finished, your pointer finger pressed firmly against the ‘up’ button. Then started the waiting game.

“Oh, Y/N.” Gojo repeated your name, his lips curling up into a small grin. “You know, you sound awfully familiar for someone that I’ve just met.”

“That’s interesting,” you said, your voice suddenly going quiet underneath his cerulean gaze. This awkwardness and tension lingering in the air was going to be the cause of your demise, you swore to yourself.

“Ahem—I suppose you don’t know where the meeting will be held later,” you said quickly, your voice getting higher in pitch, “there’s this huge conference room on the tenth floor, I’ll lead you to it.”

“No need to be so tense,” Gojo laughed, “I promise I don’t bite. So, speak normally with me, like how you would with a friend.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at his words, if someone found you speaking informally to someone as high up in the business hierarchy such as him, they would definitely get the wrong idea, and the possibilities of rumours spreading in the office were high. Rumours were always a pain in the ass to deal with, so you really didn’t want to risk it.

“I still have to be careful, Mr. Gojo.” You smiled at the male. “It wouldn’t be a good look for me if I’m seen being informal towards you inside the building.”

“Will you be less tense with me if we talk outside the building, then?”

“I-I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Mr. Gojo.”

The ding! coming from the elevator instantly broke you out of your thoughts, rushing into the empty space while uttering a quiet, “Come in,” towards the business man.

You stood across from Gojo, your eyes darting across the space — looking at anything, just anything besides him. You crossed your arms close to your chest, almost as if it could give you extra warmth aside from your blazer. Despite after crossing paths with him, you could already tell that Gojo Satoru was an unpredictable man. It was killing you.

You snapped your gaze towards the little screen above the sliding door, watching as the number slowly increased while the elevator lifted higher and higher. Six more floors to go.

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind me making a phone call.” Gojo said in a singsang tone, his large hand pulling out his phone out of the pocket of his trousers.

“Go ahead,” you muttered out, sparing the man a quick smile before your attention returned to the screen above the elevator door. Three more floors to go.

Just as you were about to relax, closing your eyes while waiting for the elevator to reach the tenth floor — you felt your phone violently vibrate inside your pocket, and shortly after, the HeartChat app ringtone echoed in the silent space. You felt your sweat run cold, rushing to get your phone out. Glancing up at the white haired male, you realized he had been staring at you the whole time with the phone in his hand, amused.

M 0337411 is calling… [accept | decline ]

All those intrusive thoughts that you tried so hard to ignore were right, after all.

You were simply going to die of embarrassment.

“What a coincidence. So, I was right after all. As soon as I heard your cute voice I automatically knew it was you.”

Everything was literally thrown at you today—first, having to deal with your ex (who wasn’t aware in the slightest clue with what he did wrong) and second, being put into the corner of the elevator with Gojo Satoru, as known as the stranger you had phone sex with. You didn’t have a mirror with you to know what kind of expression you were making in that moment, but you for sure felt an overwhelming surge of mortification.

Out of all days, it had to be the day after — especially when the memories of the night before were still fresh in your mind.

Out of all people, it had to be Gojo Satoru, the new man in the building.

“And given your reaction,” Gojo said, gently tilting your chin to meet his eyes; a hint of amusement present in his gaze, “you also recognize me.”

You swore you were going to melt, not only from embarrassment but, as ashamed as you were to admit it, him — it was even more embarrassing as you had grown aware of the wetness between your legs accumulating, only hidden by your black pencil skirt. Gojo Satoru, he truly was a sight to behold given his godsend features and his voice. The arousal that you had tried to suppress from last night slowly returns — all those lewd thoughts you had about the stranger, and he was there — within your reach.

“Not here,” you whispered, lightly smacking the man’s hand of your face. The look of chagrin was plastered all across your face, your cheeks stained with a bright incarnadine hue and your eyes darting away from his. He found it utterly adorable. “The door’s going to open any moment now.”

Right as you said that, the door opened—and thank god there was no one waiting on the other side of the door. There would simply be zero explanation that would be able to save you — his body was close to yours as you were nearly pressed in the corner of the elevator and hot, unbearable tension flooded the thick air.

“A-Anyways,” you stammered out, rushing out of the confines of the elevator, “to the conference room, it’s uh— this way. If you’ll follow me…”

Gojo followed suit, walking in a languid pace as he watched you speed-walk down the hall before stopping in front of a large opaque grey double door You pushed it open, signalling the man to enter.

Shortly after, you entered the room. “To be honest, I never stepped foot inside this room before—until today, that is.”

You traced the tips of your fingers along the sides of the large wooden table, your eyes scanning your surroundings. It actually looked really nice and clean. It was aesthetically pleasing to the eyes, too.

“Are you here for a business project with Mr. Zen’in?”

“I suppose you can say that, but I’m mainly here to speak with Zen’in Naobito .”

“Ah, the CEO then.”

“That’s correct.”

Then returned the silence, as well as the growing tension in the air. Just you were about to turn around and open the door, a strong hand stops you in your tracks. “Wait,” Gojo grabbed your attention, pulling you closer so you could face him.

You frantically glanced toward the door, afraid that someone could walk in.

The tension between the both of you was so strong, anyone could've cut it down with a knife, but there'd still be some struggle to it. You could barely breath; the air between the both of you felt warm, and only increased in temperature the longer you stayed in the room.

“This room will be empty for hour and a half before they arrive and start the meeting,” he assured you before leaning his face closer to your ear, his breath hot as he continued to speak. "Besides I still couldn't help but think about last night. Does last night still play fresh in your mind?"

Oh, Lord. You swallowed your saliva, the warmth in your cheeks quickly returning as you stared at Gojo with a flustered expression plastered all across your face. He pulled you closer, and you didn't fight against it; the pleasant smell of his cologne filled your nostrils, you could grow addicted to it.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it all," you replied, your voice quiet.

That was enough of an answer for him. "Good," he said, grinning.

You couldn't ignore the utter lack of distance between both your bodies; your chest pressed against his with his one arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand caressing your chin — tilting your head slightly while he silently examined your lips. You also took this as a chance to stare at his features up close, and you were right when you told yourself that he was blessed by the gods and your eyes lingered to his lips; they looked so soft, it almost made you wonder what it'd feel and taste like. You didn't want him to go.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked you, however, there was something in his azure eyes that begged you to tell him to keep going — there was a certain desperation to it. You looked at Gojo with a pleading gaze, however you also appeared to be dazed by his baritone voice, your lips trailing down to his lips.

"Kiss me," you told him, your voice dripping with arousal.

There was a stifled groan coming from the man before he pulled your face to his, his lips devouring yours. His lips tasted of honey, sweet and addicting; his hand pressed strongly against the small of your back as he walked you against the table. Large hands played with the hem of your skirt while you softly moaned in his mouth, your hands playing with the soft cushion of his ivory locks.

All rational thoughts had slipped out of your mind like butter, and all that took over was the pent up sexual desire and pure arousal.

You both briefly pulled away, a string of saliva was connected from both your lips.

“What if someone walks in on us?” You questioned the male, your voice nearly breathless.

“Don’t worry, sweets. The doors are locked, and room’s soundproof too.” Gojo replied, his hands slowly caressing up your skirt, “I’m surprised that no one hid the remote, too.”

"And fuck, have you seen yourself in the mirror? It's almost like you're begging to be fucked by me." He said, relishing the sight of your flushed face with your eyes staring up at him in wanton, as well as your cleavage firmly pressed pressed against his chest; the first few buttons had already gotten undone, revealing your black lace bra.

You briefly remembered telling him about how he sounded so different compared from how he texted when you first called him, and now that you were face to face with him — you soon came to realize that whatever words he spat out of his mouth were nothing but prurient, with you at least.

“Dirty girl, we just met and you’re already giving me that look. We’re in the conference room, too.” Gojo continued to tease, the tip of his finger playing with the waistband of your panties.

“It’s your fault,” you bit back playfully, “I bet you’ve kissed many women to be that good at kissing.”

Gojo immediately laughed at your response, “I’m honoured, but this is actually my first.”

“T-That's bullshit,” you said, surprised. “there’s no way that this is your first—Ah!”

Your own words got cut off by a surprised gasp, your head thrown back as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. He had pushed the slick fabric aside, and he easily eased a large finger inside your heat. Fuck. His fingers were far more better than you could’ve ever imagined — they were slender, yet girthy. His one finger could stretch you out more than your own two fingers could. Gojo eased his middle finger inside and fuck, was he about to cum by the way your pussy greedily took him in.

“Ho-ly shit, sweets. So fucking wet that my fingers just keep getting sucked back in.” He said through gritted teeth, a hoarse chuckle slipping past his throat.

You tried to muffle your moans, covering your trembling mouth with both your hands as you succumbed to the pleasure that this man was giving you. You, for sure, had gone crazy — crazy to the max. Just earlier you were worried about getting caught being informal with him, but here you were, getting your pussy fingered by him in the conference room. Not only that, that man currently working his fingers into you, Satoru Gojo, was the stranger you had phone sex with last night. You were absolutely insane.

His pace quickened — it was almost merciless, his thumb eventually joining into the mix to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves; the sounds of your drenched pussy being absolutely ravished by his filled the room, along with your muffled whimpers. With his empty hand, he grabbed both your hands and held them in a vice grip, dragging them away from your lips. "Hearing you moan in person is so fucking hot. I want to hear more."

And if he wasn’t rough with his fingers before, he definitely was now; desperately trying to draw all sorts of sounds from you — from the squelch of your wet pussy to your pretty moans, he wanted more. You, however, were completely writhing underneath his grip; your body sensitive from how well he was treating your needy hole. You could feel yourself coming close, the taste of orgasm was merely on the tip of your tongue, and all you could think about was how well his fingers were stretching you out. It wasn’t long before you felt the coil in your stomach tighten, and Gojo curled his fingers — making contact with the rough, spongy skin that made your toes curl. You arched your back, pressing your body closer to his — moaning his last name softly as you rode out your first orgasm. Gojo groaned along with you, muttering a line of praises as he slowly pushed his fingers in and out, relishing the aftermath of your release; coated with your juices.

Gojo’s patience was already thin, as you could say, it was treading on thin ice.

"Fuuck, you're so hot — you're gonna make me cum, I swear." rasped Gojo, his breath hot on your ear. He pressed lingering kisses across your neck while his hands traveled to your clothed breasts, giving them a light squeeze, "I just want to eat you up."

With how seductive his voice sounded, you were convinced that you were going to cum for the second time; right there, and then.

With one swift movement, he pulled your skirt down (along with your drenched underwear), threw the thin pieces of fabric at his side and got himself levelled with your pussy, now all bare for him to savour. His mouth watered at the sight; he could see how your hole pulsed, needing something to fill it back in. God, he needed to fuck you.

“You feeling shy now, hm?” Gojo teased, his eyes snapped over to your flustered ones.

You’ve never felt so exposed before, your legs spread wide apart as you leaned further back against the table— you were completely under the mercy of this man, and it only made you further aroused as a result. Something about doing something so lewd in the conference room, at your workplace, let alone with a stranger as handsome as he was — you’ve never felt so thrilled. You were probably going to smack yourself later for being so reckless and irresponsible, but right here at this moment, you were going to savour every sensation; his touch, his taste, his voice, everything.

Without ever breaking eye contact with you, he licked a long stripe of saliva over your already drenched folds and your hips automatically bucked up at the pleasure. He watched as you writhed underneath his touch, a shuddering breath leaving your swollen lips. You were truly a sight to behold, and if it weren’t for the location, he would’ve had you completely naked for him. Thoughts of you never ceased to part from his mind, from hearing your voice to mere imaginations of fucking you senseless. Needless to say, his imaginations could never ever compare to what was unfolding before him.

He let out a satisfied hum against your folds, emitting light vibrations through your veins, just before he dug his face deeper in between your legs — it was almost as if this man was starved; his tongue and lips greedily sucking onto your clit, twirling the sensitive bud around with the tip of his tongue. You shivered against his touch, "G-Gojo--Fuck."

"Satoru," Gojo corrected you for a moment before returning to his ministrations, "wanna hear you say my name."

This time, he stuck his tongue inside your pussy — his finger returning to rub on your clit.

"Satoru," you moaned his name, "fuck, that feels so good."

Gojo moaned into your pussy in response, his actions only getting more messier and more carnal the more he tasted you — he was getting drunk from the mere taste of you.

It wasn't long before you felt your impending release, the second one at that, and you gripped your fingers tightly around Satoru's ivory locks, muttering out a line of curses and 'i'mcoming'imcomingi'mcoming—' as your body shook around his head.

"Good girl. Good fucking girl." You heard Satoru mumble out praises as he lapped up all your juices, relishing in the sweet scent and taste of pure arousal that dripped down his cerise lips. “You taste so fucking delicious, I was seriously about to cum.”

“Fuck,” he hissed to himself, and you could hear the sounds of his belt unclasping — dropping to the floor. He was growing even more needy for you, and his horniness level had honestly gone through the fucking roof at this point. All he wanted to do now was to fuck you senseless.

"Satoru," you muttered his name, voice laced with pure desire, "want you to put it in already."

“There’s no way I won’t fuck your pussy today,” replied Gojo, discarding his undergarment, and almost immediately, his erect cock sprung up and your mouth began to water at the girth and length. Just how was that going to fit inside you?

Your reaction didn't go by unnoticed by the ivory-haired male, and his voice got a little gentle. He rubbed his cock against your slick folds, and you both shuddered at the sensation. "You'll be okay, just relax. You can do that for me, yeah?"

"Mhm," you nodded your head, almost a bit too frantically. Given the limited amount of time that you both had, you needed him inside now.

"Take a deep breath for me, 'kay?"

You complied to his words, closing your eyes as you inhaled deeply -- however, you nearly choked on your spit when only his tip entered. Satoru constantly gave you gentle reassurances; gently rubbing the sides of your hips, all while he pushed himself deeper into your walls. There was simply no way this was his first time, you thought to yourself silently — but all your thoughts instantly turned into mush once he hit the hilt; his tip meeting your cervix. You moaned his name, your eyes slightly rolling back at the immense pleasure the man had been drowning you in.

Satoru groaned at the delightful sensation before chuckling through strained breaths, "See? It wasn't so hard."

He gave you a brief moment to recollect yourself, three seconds in fact, before he began to roll his hips against yours; pulling his cock back until the tip was barely inside, and he plunged back in. He did all this at an almost rapid pace, making your whole entire body turn into jelly.

"Look at your pussy, sucking me in so greedily when I just started to fuck you. Dirty girl." He rasped, his lips curled up into a grin and his gaze laserfocused on how your pussy was connected to him. It was taking everything in him not to cum right away, let alone cum inside you — but the sensations of your walls clamping tightly around his shaft was making it difficult to think straight.

He kept up with the relentless pace, relishing in the sweet sounds your wet pussy was making while he fucked you as well as your moans.

He could feel you tightening around even more around him, as if your pussy was trying to milk him dry. The pace of his thrusts began to stagger, and he could feel himself getting closer to his release, however, rather than keeping up with his pace, he slowed down. You snapped your gaze to the Satoru, confused.

"Don't worry princess, I just want to try something new right now."

Just as you were about to question him on what exactly he was planning to do, you gasped in surprise when he lifted you up from the table with ease; your arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders as he aligned your pussy with his cock, and steadily, he dropped you down on his length. You both moaned in tandem at the sensation. He watched your face intently, how it scrunched together in immense pleasure, your mouth slightly agape as your lips spilled out a myriad of moans while he lifted you and dropped you on his cock at a steady rhythm.

"Ohfuckohfuck--'Toru, you're so deep." You whimpered, stuffing your head into the crook of his shoulders while he continued to plunge into you. His grip on your ass tightened as he began to pick up the pace, and your moans were continuously broken down each time he thrusted his cock into you. He was relentless, and he was already obsessed with how you clamped down so tightly around him. He could honestly never get enough of it -- of you. And, how he loved watching you getting dumb over his cock, hearing you jumble nonsense all while telling him how badly you needed his cock had definitely done a number on him.

The tightening coil sensation that reverberated in the depths of your stomach returned once more the longer the man had pleasured you and you dug your nails deeper into the man's shoulders. "I'm gonna cum, fuck Satoru, I'm so close...!"

"Fucking cum on my cock," Gojo ordered you, his voice was almost pleading, and he kept up the pace, squeezing his eyes tightly and groaning at how tight your walls were squeezing him. You let out a cry, arching your back and curling your toes, as you came around his cock; your juices creaming around his shaft. He gently brought you back down to the floor, but held the small of your back immediately when he noticed that you were about to lose your balance.

Cumming inside you could wait for another day, he thought to himself as he desperately rubbed his hand on his cock, his lips immediately diving into yours for a passionate kiss. Soft groans left his rose-tinted lips as he melded his mouth with yours. He could feel his abdomen growing tighter, his legs getting weaker, and his mind getting blank. With a deep, strained moan slipping past the man's throat, he painted your thighs white with his seed.

Heavy breaths filled the room, and then came the soft chuckles.

“I’d like to say we’re really compatible,” said Gojo, pressing a soft kiss against your temple before languidly pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers; cleaning the mess he had made on your skin. “Don’t you agree, Y/N?”

You were far too dazed to comprehend most of the words that spilled from Gojo’s mouth, so you chose to nod your head in response to the man’s question. Gojo was quite the gentleman, upon realizing that your legs still felt weak and wobbled, he immediately took action — helping you slide your skirt back on while stuffing your drenched panties in his trousers (to which you gave him a light smack on the shoulder, but he didn’t mind honestly), buttoned your shirt back up, and helped put your blazer back on; he did all that while muttering sweet praises in your ear, almost tickling the skin. Your hair was still a mess, though, and your lips still appeared to be swollen. Gojo ran his fingers through your locks, making a pathetic attempt at fixing your hair. At least he tried, though. He shortly fixed his appearance after; all he did was clasp his belt back on, fix his attire, and ruffle his ivory locks — all within a minute.

“We still have fourty-five minutes left to spare.” Satoru said, staring at his phone screen before he shoved it back inside his pocket (not where your panties are, though). “We should head out now before someone tries to get in.”

“You’re a liar,” you said weakly, your voice almost breathless, “there’s no way that this is your first.”

Satoru chuckled, “Again, I’m honoured, but you’re my first.”

He grabbed the tiny remote and pressed the button, thus unlocking the double-doors. You didn’t really feel the need to ask him why he seemed so familiar with the conference room as you were heavily fixated on his face; his cerulean eyes gazing into yours, a bright smile painted on his pale visage.

“Let me take you out sometime,” Gojo blurted out. “You’re totally my type, and I want us to get to know each other better.”

“And how do I know that you don’t say that to other women using that app?”

“You were the first and only one I texted on the app,” Gojo replied, “and we are alike in so many aspects — especially our compatibility in sex.“

You rolled your eyes jokingly, before smiling at the male. “Okay then, I accept your offer. You know, you’re also my type.”

“And,” Gojo added, “we both get turned on by each other’s voices.”

“Let’s go,” you shrugged off the chuckling male, opening the double-door. Fortunately enough, there was no one present in the halls and there was still plenty of time before the meeting took place.

“Mr. Gojo,” you spoke to him formally, however there was a tint of teasing in your voice as his name spilled out of your lips like honey. “Anywhere else you’d like to go?”

“You. Me. My place, or yours.”

“You— I’m talking about if there’s anything else you’re not familiar with in the building.” You whispered harshly. “And, watch your volume!”

It had been a week since your last tryst with the Gojo Satoru, and needless to say, talking to him was a breath of fresh air. HeartChat switched over to SMS and there came the video calls. Even as promised, he brought you out to his favourite restaurants and cafés. Over the course of those past few days, you learned many things about the handsome man (aka god’s favourite), and he learned many things about you. For starters:

He was the chief executive officer of GOJO Tech, he was once the heir, but it wasn’t too long before his father decided to give him the role at the age of 24 (he’s now 28), and since then, business had been booming for the Gojo clan.

His relationship with the Gojo clan wasn’t the best — despite him being the new head of the clan and CEO, some members were constantly preying on his demise. He didn’t really care, though.

He hated the taste of alcohol — he absolutely despised it. He drank it once during a party and immediately “chased” it with a mouthful of strawberry cake. You later questioned him if he really knew what a chaser was.

His first time having phone sex was with you, he tried acting confident since it also was your first.

He was basically good at everything he did—everything that would normally be strenuous or difficult would always appear to be easy on him.

Nevertheless, there were some things that remained unchanged, and that was the phone sex that you both subconsciously agreed to do nightly, as if it was some sort of promise.

You weren’t going to lie, but you nearly forgot about the drinking party with your colleagues — once you remembered, you immediately invited Gojo to accompany you (it was also at that moment where you remembered that he didn’t drink alcohol). Surprisingly, he agreed to come along, and even offered to give you a ride there.

So there you were in the restaurant, seated near the end of the table with Gojo beside you while the rest of your colleagues chattered loudly, it was awfully obvious that there had been alcohol in their system. You had already downed a glass of beer, and you could feel your stomach and cheeks steadily growing warmer. You turned over to Gojo, who busied himself in devouring all the food, even ordering for several new plates whilst your colleagues cheered on for him in a drunken haste. You had almost forgotten point number 6 — Not only was Gojo Satoru a dessert fanatic, he was also a huge foodie.

Emi made her way towards the end of table, where you and Gojo were seated; bottle of beer and sake in her hands. There was absolutely no denying how attractive she was, her eyes appeared innocent yet they relayed something far more different.

“I’m surprised that Mr. Gojo came along,” Emi began, smiling softly as gave the man beside you a playful stare; swiftly ignoring your presence. “I’ve heard that you’ve been incredibly busy these days. So, I’m glad. Do you mind if I pour you a drink?”

“Nah, it’s alright. I don’t drink those kind of stuff.” Gojo waved her off, sparing her a quick and friendly smile.

“Oh! By the way, did you and Y/N arrive together? I never expected you two to be so close, especially at work, considering how you just arrived here less than a week ago.” questioned Emi, tilting her head to one side while staring at him, feigning innocence. This irked you a little, as you could never tell what she was thinking behind those shy and innocent eyes of hers.

“I wonder how that could be,” she trailed off even further, her voice was loud enough so that a couple of colleagues could hear — loud enough for Zen’in Naoya to hear.

Flower of the office, my ass.

You could even feel your ex glaring daggers at both your directions. You took a large gulp out of your glass of beer while Gojo laughed loudly.

“My, you’re a curious one alright.” He said in between chuckles. “We simply crossed—”

“Satoru and I are currently seeing each other,” you cut him off, pointing your nearly empty glass towards Emi’s direction; your cheeks warm from the alcohol streaming in your veins. “Is that enough to make you, you know, mind your business?”

Haruto, Himari, and Ren, who all sat across from you, collectively choked on their drinks, staring at you in utter shock. They all gave you a look that basically screamed, ‘You bitch, at least catch us up!’

“O-Oh,” Emi said, her voice getting quieter while she still feigned a smile, “I’m happy for you both, then. You two make a cute pair.”

“I know we do,” Gojo said, pulling your shoulder closer to his while laughing. His eyes later snapped over to Naoya, who he could tell was trying his hardest to hide his disdain; his eyes were narrowed and his jaw tensed. Not before long, he stood up from his spot and briefly excused himself — reasoning was that he needed some fresh air. Shortly after, Emi followed his trail, and the party resumed like normal.

It was a silent gesture, but you gently squeezed his hands underneath the table as you stared into his eyes; his face still flushed from the earlier commotion — you had been reckless, once again. To your surprise, he squeezed your hand back immediately, only bringing both your hands onto the table, now visible for everyone to see. He gave you a reassuring smile before leaning in to press a soft kiss on your knuckles. The heat on your face only intensified at his display of affection, your cheeks turning scarlet.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered softly, “I did something really reckless, and I didn’t ask you if you were alright with having our relationship out in the open like that.”

“Y/N,” Satoru said, his voice quiet and gentle, “I didn’t ask you out just so I could keep you as a secret. I’ll show you off as much as I want, show everyone that you’re my woman.”

“I swear, Satoru, it’s always you and your words.” You mumbled, covering your flushed face with the palms of your hands.

“You mean voice,” he teased.

“… Shut up.”

Not long after that, perhaps thirty minutes, you bid your goodbyes to your colleagues, leaving the restaurant side by side with Gojo — making a beeline towards the car. Once you both entered, you let all your desires run loose; your lips locked against his, teeth clashing against one another, and heavy breaths filled the tight vicinity. The air quickly grew hot, and the kisses further intensified with fervour.

“W-Wait, Satoru,” you mumbled his name in his lips, your grip on his black dress shirt tightening.

He pulled away, and god, did he look ethereal underneath the moonlight; his white strands shone like silver, his eyes only glowed brighter in the darkness. “What is it, sweets?”

“Let’s not do it here,” you said softly, looking up at him with desperate eyes. “Let’s do it at my place.”

Gojo Satoru never turned his engine on so quickly until now, driving his lamborghini like he was a man on a mission.

The air grew warm the very moment you both stepped into your apartment, lips locked onto each other and arms wrapped around one another. Soft moans left your lips as you could feel the man’s pent up desire grinding against your hips, rubbing deliciously against your clothed heat.

“Your bed,” there was a certain urgency in his voice as he rasped against your lips, and grabbing his large hands, you both rushed to the bedroom. Your back met with the soft plush of the mattress, further sinking in as Satoru also applied his weight, his lips getting a taste of yours for the nth time. His hands instantly pushing up your shirt, his hands traveling up to your your breasts; his fingers sliding underneath the pads of your bra to tweak your little buds. You stifled a soft whimper, your fingers locked in his ivory locks.

Eventually he slid your shirt up, and you helped make go by things faster by unclasping your bra. He took in the moment to appreciate the sight of your nude breasts, a hitched breath leaving his throat while he stared. Eventually, he dove in and showed love to both your mounds; coating your nipples with his saliva as he licked and sucked, leaving a small trail of hickies along your soft skin.

"Satoru," you said his name in a soft murmur, your cheeks warm and scarlet. He hummed in response whilst he continued to play with your tits, his large hands squeezing the soft mounds. In a treacherous pace, he slowly trailed his kisses down your breasts to your lower abdomen. “You’re so cute,” he said in a teasing tone, “you’re already so sensitive to my touch, and I haven’t even started with you.”

He swiftly pulled your skirt down, immediately chuckling at the damped mess you hid in between your legs.

"You're so wet," he mumbled quietly as his arousal immediately went straight towards his dick. He drew a finger across your folds, which were only covered by the thin dampened fabric. With nimble hands, he slid off the fabric off effortlessly, and without wasting time, he inserted two fingers inside -- groaning at how easily he slid in.

He started out the pace with a punishing speed, your toes immediately curling at the sensation as you squealed in unadulterated pleasure. You rolled your eyes back as you drowned in the delightful sensations, arching your back whilst rolling your hips to meet his fingers. It wasn’t until he began to curl his fingers that the volume of your moans began to increase. He pushed your legs farther apart, digging his fingers deeper; eliciting more whimpers and wanton moans that slipped out of your lips effortlessly.

“You close?” He teased you, and you nodded your head frantically in response. He could very well tell how close you were to your orgasm, judging by the way your walls fluttered around his fingers.

“Cum for me then,” he said, and that was all it took for you to succumb to your release, your pussy juices perfectly coating his two fingers. "Good girl," he gave you his praise, his voice deep and heavy.

His fingers parted away from your skin, briefly, before he began to slowly unbutton his midnight dress shirt, revealing his toned muscles and abdomen-- all while staring down at you with a carnal daze. "Like what you see?"

You stared up to meet his eyes, flustered. "Of course, why would I not? You look so... hot. If the word hot and sexy was a person, I feel like it'd be you."

"Is this your way of flirting, cutie?" Gojo said in a teasing tone, his lips curled up into a playful smirk while he unclasped his belt and unzipped his trousers, revealing his boxers and the awfully huge tent that hid beneath the fabric. God, he is so sexy.

"... I'm taking it back now." You said quietly in a stubborn tone.

"You won't," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, "your mouth is literally drooling for me, and even more so when..."

He dragged his words out while he slowly slipped his boxers off, revealing the angry red tip leaking with his pre-cum. Of course he ended up being right, seeing how you stared at his cock with hearts in your eyes.

"Okay cutie! Get on your knees and ass up."

Gojo loved how easily you complied to his commands -- one second you'd show him a little bit of sass and the next second you were begging for his dick. He grinned at the sight of your ass and back arched, your slick juices dripping off your pussy -- this was all for him, just for him. A loud smack resonated in the room when he slapped your ass and played with it, absolutely loving how it jiggled with every movement his hand made with it.

However, he couldn't wait any longer. He needed you, he wanted you — so, so badly. Rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds, he relished in the sight of your body writhing beneath his grasp; being all desperate and needy for his cock.

It wasn't long before the loud sounds of his cock fucking into your pussy filled the bedroom, your loud moans muffled by the pillows you stuffed your head into. All that you could feel at that moment was pure, unadulterated pleasure; he was hitting all the right spots and his moans were music to your ears.

"Fuck, I've always thought about how I'd fuck you like this." Gojo moaned. "You're gripping onto me so fuckin' tight I might just cum."

A loud cry left your lips when Gojo decided to wrap his arms around you, pulling your body closer to his; his chest pressed firmly against your back as he continued to fuck into you whilst his hand traveled down to your center, lazily rubbing circles on your clit.

"O-Oh—fuck—'Toru —Ahn!" You would moan his name loudly while your body shook under his manipulation.

"Y/N," Gojo said your name breathlessly, all the whilst fucking you dumb on your bed, "be my girlfriend— I want you to be all mine."

"Y-Yes, yes, yes —'Toru," you said in between gasps and moans, "I wanna be all yours. O-Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum — I'm gonna cum--!"

Gojo mumbled a bunch of praises towards you as you rode out your orgasm, your chest rising and sinking as you attempted to control your heavy breaths while he gently rubbed your hips with his thumb. "You're such a good girl," he leaned over to press a soft kiss over the back of your head.

"You still have some energy, right?" He questioned you, and you now found yourself laying underneath the male; your legs both hoisted up on his shoulders. You nodded your head, staring at Gojo with a heavy-lidded gaze, and his eyes were blown with lust and desire. He pressed a soft kiss to your ankle before staring back down at you with a teasing smile.

"Good, because I'm nowhere near done."

(You definitely made sure to keep a mental note to thank Ren for getting you into the app)

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 !

It was a day after your your risqué rendezvous with Gojo Satoru, who you later came to realize was the stranger you engaged sexual activities with over the phone, on HeartChat — the app that no one other than your childhood friend and coworker, Ren, had downloaded on your phone.

“So,” Ren began, wiggling her eyebrows as she pointed at the phone you were holding in your hand. “How was it? It’s fun isn’t it?”

You and Ren were seated on the bench, eating lunch outside during your break. Normally you’d stay indoors, but the following information you were going to share to her were meant for her ears only — since she was the one who recommended this app, after all. Needless to say, Ren was more than thrilled for you to spill the details.

“You never told me that the app was meant for different purposes,” you said, raising a small brow towards your friend.

“I mean, I only use the app to troll around with other men. Nothing too serious, you know?” Ren said before her face quickly dropped. “Unless…? What exactly did you do, Y/N?”

“I…” you began, but you paused. “You better not tell this to another soul, I swear.”

“Riko?”

“Obviously we’ll catch Riko up from this after her honeymoon, but no one else! Promise?”

“You’re making me nervous, Y/N.”

“I had phone sex,” you admitted. Ren’s face immediately turned scarlet, looking at you — shocked. “No way,” she mumbled before she bursted out laughing. “No fucking way. Those type of things only happen in those spicy novels.”

“Oh, you won’t believe what happened next.”

“Okay. I’m all ears.”

“Don’t react loudly, okay?”

“I promise.”

“I had sex with him the next day.”

A choked out "What?!" escaped your friend's lips.

If Ren wasn’t red enough just moments before, then she definitely was now.

“So… are you going to tell me who it is or…?”

“Nah, it’s a secret.”

“... Babe, what other secret could possibly be more shocking than what you just told me?”

So, colour Ren surprised once she added two and two together when you had confessed that you and The Gojo Satoru were seeing each other a week later.

© 𝟔𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 do not copy, repost, or translate my works on any platform.

[st7rnioioss]

WHEN BSF!CHRIS CAN'T KEEP HIS HANDS AND THOUGHTS OFF INEXPERIENCED!READER ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... grinding, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (don't do this!!), kissing ˚࿔ notes: i'd like to say beforehand this is a little further into their relationship! I'll add more background stuff later<33

chris was restless. he continued to toss and turn in your bed, finally settling on his side, one arm slung around you waist while gently tugging you closer to him, pressing your back flush against his chest while you were sleeping peacefully.

he tried to doze off, he really did. but sleep seemed like the furthest thing away when he laid there, listening to your soft breathing, as the only currently audible noise, feeling the way your chest rose and fell under his touch.

his mind was running a million miles an hour, and he couldn’t get it to stop. it was dirty, wrong thoughts—about you. his best friend since.. well, for as long as he could remember. it had become something more usual, but this time he couldn’t control it.

you’d always been attached to the hip, but never once had he thought about you like this. never had he wondered what you’d look like naked, vulnerable under him.. okay, maybe a few times, but never to this extent. you'd only gone as far as him showing you how to finger yourself properly, where he took over the job because he couldn't resist.

how would you react to his touch? would you reach for his hair? his arms? would you grab the sheets instead? what did your moan sound like?

the real question was why on earth he was having these dirty thoughts about you. you were the sweetest girl he’d ever laid his eyes on, so sweet it gave him a toothache whenever you’d innocently bat your eyes at him, begging him to go get ice cream with you.

gosh, make it stop, he thought to himself, groaning when he snaked his other hand down to try and ease his rock-hard cock, which only seemed to make it worse, hardening even more under his own touch.

he didn’t know what to do, and only to worsen his panicked state, you started turning, his arm momentarily slipping from your waist when you faced him.

your eyes were thankfully still shut, lips in a soft pout from the pillow pushing them together. the sight didn’t help either. nothing helped him ease his raging hard boner. you laid there, so pure, unknowing of his sinful thoughts while your peaceful, gentle look only made the tight restrain in his boxers worse.

sleep was out of reach by now, his hand desperately trying to relieve his aching cock with a groan by carefully rubbing his palm over the bulge—but then your eyes fluttered open. he stared down at you with widen eyes, almost in disbelief that he’d been caught somewhat rubbing himself through his pants, but you didn’t seem to notice right away.

“are you okay?” your soft voice was heard. “you seem restless..” yeah, his constant tossing and groaning woke you up, but not enough to fully comprehend the situation chris was in.

“i- i can’t sleep. that’s all,” he whispered back, blinking rapidly while your eyes scanned his face, roaming every feature you were so familiar with.

speculating about his somewhat unsure answer, your eyes made their way down his chest when he let another whine slip, noticing the way his palm pressed against his groin, and you immediately felt ten times more awake than you were before. heat rushed to your face, before your eyes met chris's desperate gaze.

“oh..” you quipped, suddenly hyper aware of every movement of his, every desperate groan you’d heard behind you just moments prior now making much more sense.

“p-please, just- just let me.. let me put it in,” chris pleaded miserably, letting his free hands knuckles brush over your reddening cheek, his touch gentle as ever.

“chris- no, we can’t..” your answer only made his dick harden, though it seemed fucked up. you were so damn innocent, a prude even. you’d always avoided the topic of sex, not daring to go down that path ever. but he knew that when it came to him, you could bend the rules. “please- i’ll make it quick, i’ll just put the tip in. it hurts so fucking bad,”

but something about the situation caused you to turn curious. chris begging for your touch, begging to let him do something about his hard erection, to touch you.

“okay..” attentively, you turned around to lay in your previous position on your side, chris's hand slipping from the front of his shorts, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“thank you, thanks- thank you,” he babbled, his clammy hands making their way to the elastic waistband of your sleep shorts, slowly pushing them down your thighs, until they pooled around your ankles, that you continued to gently kick off.

“i promise i’ll be careful, just the tip..” his breath fanned across your neck, making a soft gasp slip from your lips.

your eyes were wide open and lips parted when he hooked his hand under your thigh, gently lifting it to spread them apart, carefully placing your leg back down as if you were made of fragile porcelain.

“o-okay..” you spoke quietly, your breath hitching when his finger made contact with your panties, gently tugging them to the side. “already so wet f’me..” his voice was husky against your ear, lips grazing the sensitive skin as his thumb slowly ran between your slick folds, a weak moan falling from your parted lips.

you were driving him insane, already dripping for him, and it only took a couple right touches and words. oh, how bad he wanted to keep showing you how to feel good, let alone be the first one to. he'd already gotten his fair share on that part.

you’ve never been more nervous, but yet you felt safe with chris pressed so close up against you. it was chris after all, he’d never do anything to hurt you, plus, he was always so gentle with you whenever it came to stuff like this. your hands tugged the stuffed animal you usually slept with to your chest, nuzzling your nose into the neck of the teddy, the soft material under your fingertips easing your mind a little.

“i’ll be gentle, angel.. no need to worry,” he whispered, one of his hands maneuvering his shorts down mid-thigh, along with his boxers, the other one gently running down the side of your face, tugging a few strands of hair behind your ear.

he wrapped his palm around his cock, fisting his cock with a lewd moan, before bringing the head of his cock to your entrance.

“i’ll put it in now.. it’s just the tip, don’t panic..” he mumbled, pressing a reassuring series of kisses to the side of your neck, feeling you nod. “go- go ahead..”

those words was all he needed, gently smearing his sticky tip down your soaked folds, before pressing it forward, watching it disappear inside of you.

“holy- holy fuck..” he groaned between gritted teeth, his fingers gripping at your hip, a weak gasp elicited from your mouth. “oh, chris..”

your moan was silenced from the soft teddy in your arms, eyes fluttering shut at the slow intrusion, letting whines fall from your lips.

chris nearly lost his mind when he felt your walls squeeze around his tip—it took every fiber in his body not to stuff you full of his cock, not to completely ignore your previous, innocent words and start fucking into you.

“gosh- chris..” you whined, nails digging into the soft fur under your hands.

you could practically feel the desperation seep out of him from behind you, his throbbing dick just aching to be inside you.

“m’sorry angel, sorry.. i can’t hold back, please say something-“ chris's voice was strained with despair, his fingertips digging into your bare hip, smoothing his palm over your thigh.

“it’s- its okay..” you whispered, words somewhat muffled, but coherent. he was thankful almost, mumbling continuous praise and ‘thank you’ into your ear, smoothing his palms down your sides, under your top.

it sure was okay, he could tell. you were drooling around his tip, only making it easier to slide right in—which he did. holding tightly onto you, leaving kisses down your neck and back, he pushed his cock further inside of you, slowly.

“h-halfway, baby.. you’re doing so good,” he husked, his heart pounding in chest as he stilled his movements for a minute, allowing you to adjust.

you couldn’t keep quiet, eyes rolling to the back of your head while they fell shut, biting down onto the plush toy to restrain the moans. yet, pornographic whimpers slipped from your gritted teeth from the painful yet delicious stretch, making chris's head turn to mush.

“fuck.. you’re so perfect,” he hissed, sinking his length in until he was fully sheathed inside your heat with a sigh of relief.

blubbered moans fell shamelessly from the both of your lips as he slowly rutted against you, a hint of pain striking through you as you adjusted to his size.

you knew it was wrong. so, so wrong. friends didn’t do this, they really didn’t. what was gonna happen after this? would you just go to bed and wake up just usually tomorrow, just treating it as a favor?

but even though, you never wanted it to stop. his soft touch, lips continuing their work on your lower neck, stuffing you full of his cock when he rolled his hips.

“does it hurt?” he purred, his hot breath mingling on your neck, making a slight shiver run down your spine.

“no… chris, it feels- feels good,” you breathlessly whimpered, gripping the plush animal between your arms as if your life depended on it, listening to the dirty squelching of your pussy, basically drooling onto the soft material between your lips.

he only nodded, feeling your walls flutter around his cock, clenching and squeezing the life out of him. your back arched just slightly when he hit a specific spot within you, moaning loudly into the stuffed toy.

“y-you’re doing so well.. so beautiful,” he cooed, the praise going straight to the pit in your tummy, feeling the tension tighten as your teeth nibbled on the soft plushie.

“oh- oh my god..” without any warning, the waves came crashing over you, your chest heaving while your grip loosened on the soft plushie in your arms.

“jesus christ,” he panted, his slow but rhythmic thrusts continuing, until he reached his climax as well.

“shit- i’m gonna come,” he barely got to say, before the ropes of white spilled inside of you, letting out a shaky breath at the release of tension. you felt limp in his hold, your face growing hot, and heart racing with lidded eyes.

“thank you, thank you angel,” his breath hitched as he slowly pulled out. his pink lips left repeated kisses to the side of your face, listening intently to your breath regulating gradually, the pants turning back to the soft breaths he’d been listening to just moments prior.

you let a small smile break, nuzzling your nose back into the teddy bear to hide your blushing face, as if your back wasn’t turned to him. “it’s fine…”

his fingers danced across your waist, making their way to your hip, giving it a gentle pat as a dazed smile settled onto his lips.

“come on, pretty.. we gotta go pee,”

more bsf!chris x inexperienced!reader

𝜗𝜚˚࿔ notes: none:3

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