#black irises tag

[nooomagnus]

black irises in the sunshine (a noir au)

a @tlt-big-resurrection fic! ft. art by @rhywhitefang @nakji and @ellevenstar and cosplay by @abhorsenkatiel!

Nova & Co Private Investigations is the best damn detective agency in all of New Canaan—and strictly a one-woman operation. No one can match Harrowhark’s sleuthing instincts, commitment to uncovering the truth, gritty aesthetic, or willingness to sleep in the office every night. But when Harrow gets shot (again) while working to expose corruption at City Hall, her friend Palamedes goes behind her back to hire her some muscle. The person who shows up on her doorstep is mouthy, annoying as hell, and distractingly attractive: exactly the opposite of what Harrow needs. But when an heiress with a mysterious corpse and a hefty purse takes a liking to her new bodyguard, Harrow is forced to keep Gideon Nav around. The good news: Harrow only has to work with Gideon until she’s cracked the case. Once she’s busted this thing wide open, they never have to see each other again….right?

coming this friday (8/4) to an ao3 near you!

[ourfag]

ive had my fill of “first meeting when theyre 25 years younger” aus im moving on to “first meeting when theyre 25 years older” aus

[hiddenbeks]

hot problematic women in ur area. i mean. tagged by @katsigian to make some ocs in this picrew! thank youuu this was so fun 💜

top row: andrale (hero of ferelden), frida (champion of kirkwall), celyn (inquisitor)

middle row: sura (watcher of caed nua, pathetic wet cat) and vivinna (washed-up musician, hopeless romantic)

bottom row: isabeau (criminal), liah (war criminal), vigdis (newest oc on the block, dragonborn and possibly a werewolf idk)

tagging @pinkfey @tethris @consulaaris @hibernationsuit @yrlietlanaevyss @gwynbleidd as always no pressure to do this tho!

[evamame]

papa?

picking up your husband iwaizumi hajime after his days work at the gym is over with your baby wrapped up on your chest. something had gone wrong with his car, resulting in it currently at the repair shop being fixed. this left you and your one year old son in charge of pick up duty. you slide open the door and step into the vast gymnasium of japan’s national men’s volleyball team, greeted with the sound of shoes squeaking on freshly polished hardwood floor and the smack of volleyballs being spiked over the net. sitting on a bench off to the side of the court is hajime, writing some type of report in a notebook with a focused expression. you walk along the sidelines to him, holding your baby’s head to shield him from any unsuspected volleyballs that may fly your way.

hajime only looks up from his work as you seat yourself next to him, typical. he’s always so focused and invested in his job. only during his work hours is he like this, though—he always makes time for his two favorite people.

hajime smiles at you and places a kiss to your temple in greeting, putting his notebook and pen off to the side before shifting in his seat to face you more directly. “hey. didn’t realize you were here.”

“must’ve lost track of time again, right?”

“as usual,” he admits a bit sheepishly, “i really need to finish filling out this sheet of supply orders for next month.”

“hmph. you have that nice smart watch but you hardly ever pay attention to when you need to clock out of work,” you gesture to the sleek black band on his wrist as you speak.

“sorry, love i—” his words are cut off by the babbling of your son, who’s stubby arms are reaching for his papa. he looks up at his dad with wide and admiring eyes, dawning the same tan skin as his father and the same deep brown color in his wispy head of hair and irises. there’s not a doubt in sight that he’s hajime’s child; he’s practically the spitting image of him.

you two can’t help but chuckle at his efforts to cling to his dad, his movements restricted by the wrap holding him close against your chest. “you wanna give papa a hug?” you coo.

the restraint doesn’t give in, and your son looks up at you with an adorably frustrated face of confusion and surprise at the spectacle. “you can’t get anywhere in this wrap, huh?” you say as you gently pull him out of the restraint, handing him off to hajime.

once your son is in hajime’s arms, it’s within an instant that he wraps his small and chubby arms around his neck. hajime holds him securely against his chest, an affectionate laugh escaping his lips at the way his baby boy looks up at him with such adoring eyes. “looks like you really missed your papa,” hajime says fondly before placing a peck to the top of his delicate head. at this, your baby giggles loudly and begins to blabber incoherent sentences, ones that hajime pretends to understand nonetheless.

“you know, once we got here, he kept asking me ‘papa?’ the whole walk from the parking lot to the entrance. i guess he recognizes this place pretty well now.”

“oh, really?” at your words he peppers kisses all along your son’s chubby cheeks, “papa missed you too. so, so much.”

and it’s not without your son first being showered with praise and love from the team that the three of you leave to go home, praise that your baby accepts with innocent giggles and lots of squirming—all from the comfort of his papa’s warm embrace. undoubtedly his favorite place to be.

masterlist | taglist | tags: @scoupsworld @amaliaaliena @mires765

a/n: iwaizumi is such a good boy dad. a little self indulgent bcs i have big baby fever.

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[cherrygirlfriend]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ hands-on learner

pairing: rafe cameron x sunshine!reader synopsis: reader tries giving oral for the first time, but when rafe realizes it's her first time, he comforts her. tags/warnings: fluff, smut, oral (male receiving), porn, fluff, MDNI! wc: 1k a/n; this was requested on my former account so nonnie, i hope you stumble across this!!

sunshine masterlist ♡ rafe masterlist

before rafe came along, you hadn't really dated. your prior dating life, if you could even call it that, consisted having gone to a school disco when you were thirteen with a boy who had called it a date. so, your sexual conquests consisted of one person. yourself.

when you told your best friend that you wanted to take the next step and asked her for advice, cara gave you some pointers, and told you to absolutely never do one thing: use porn to help.

so, obviously, the first thing you did that night was slide under your covers, take out your laptop and your reading glasses, and search 'porn' on your computer. not even a specific site; just porn like you were a pubescent teen with a bottle of hand lotion and an on old sock.

you clicked the orange-black logo and searched up the word 'blowjob', startled by the various thumbnails filled with naked people, each of the title more and more lewd.

'big lips taking... busty goth girl... face fucking my step-'

you slammed the laptop screen close, your face warm and your lips pursed as you stared up at the ceiling, then proceeding to google 'how to give a blowjob'.

the sight of rafe in your room always made you laugh.

a six-foot-something man with his hair buzzed who always seemed to be clad in something at the very least semi-formal standing in your room filled with pinks and whites, as well as calico critters, plushies, sonny angels and hundreds of other trinkets he didn't know the name of.

even funnier was the sight of him in your bed, filled with (pink) throw pillows and sides that were lined with lace. but rafe couldn't care less about what your bed, or bedroom looked like, his lips on yours and your body under his as rafe's hands slid under the thin material of your shirt. you weren't sure how long you two had been making out, but it was long enough for the familiar heat to start pooling in your lower stomach, for the ache between your legs to appear.

you pull away from the kiss breathlessly, rafe looking down at you with a dazed expression, his ice-blue irises basically taken over by the black of his pupils. "can we... try something new?" you breathe out, causing him to raise his brows.

"like what?"

the moment that rafe's brows raised in question, your hand was on his bulge, rubbing him through the denim fabric in a way that caused rafe to let out a noise that was between a moan and whine. you slowly started to unbuckle his belt, rafe's breath held with every part of the process as he watched you to undo the button of his jeans, each little crunch of his zipper causing his pants to feel even tighter.

you tugged his jeans lower, palming rafe through his boxers, "i-is it okay if i take you... into my mouth?" you ask, biting down on your lip.

"w-what?" rafe mumbled in response, too blissed out to really register what you were saying. "yeah, yeah... go ahead."

you pulled down rafe's boxers, his cock springing free as your eyes widened from the sight. you'd never actually seen someone's... thing in real life, and you could feel your face heating up from the sight.

you'd read that you should have some kind of lubricant, deciding to use your saliva as you spit on the palm of your hand before hesitantly wrapping it around the base of his hardened cock, and rafe brought his hand over yours, tightening your grip, "a bit tighter, baby..."

once you squeezed slightly tighter, rafe groaned, letting go of your hand as you stroked his cock once, twice, three times… and after only a few seconds, rafe's cock started leaking with pre-cum. you brought your mouth down to the tip of his cock, your tongue darting out to taste the tangy liquid.

rafe gasped when you licked a stripe up a vein on the underside of his cock, his hips twitching and lifting off your bed, "fuck..." he mumbled, his hand going to grab your hair by the back of your head, your eyes slightly widening in surprise; you should've guessed, you'd seen it happen a lot in the films you watched.

you took the tip of rafe's cock into your mouth, trying your best to do what they recommended in the articles you'd read, in the movies you'd watched. you started bobbing your head up and down on his length while rafe's hand was in your hair, gently guiding you. you tried taking him in deeper, triggering your gag reflex as his head hit the back of your throat, and although it made you feel dizzy, rafe let out a loud gasp, a shudder running down his spine.

you continued sucking him off, occasionally stroking the shaft, rafe's breathing becoming more uncontrolled, the man letting out small whispers of your name.

but when you took him in deeper again until the tip of his cock met the back of your throat, triggering your gagging reflex again, and even though rafe clearly enjoyed it, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, the man pulled you away from his cock, his hand on your chin.

"what are you doing?" he asked with a slightly dazed look on his face. causing you to frown as you looked up at him through your thick lashes, a confused pout on your lips.

"i... i thought you'd like that."

"i did, but i can tell you didn't. what's up?" his brows were furrowed as he cupped your cheek, "baby?"

"i just..." you sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "i read that it's more enjoyable... to..." you hid your face behind your hands, "forget it! it's really embarrassing..."

rafe took hold of your wrists, gently moving them away from your face, intertwining your fingers with his, "baby, just... just relax." he sighed, "i just want you to be comfortable. don't do anything you're not comfortable with."

he brought his hand to your lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it, before doing the same to the other hand before letting go of them, lifting your chin up so you were looking at him. "i don't want you reading some dumbass advice forums. don't do something that's not comfortable. let's just take things at our own pace, sunshine."

"alright…" you breathe out, "then… just help me." you smile softly, your cheeks warming up.

[peachsayshi]

// brutally soft // II. 

baby daddy!sukuna x reader 

tags: non curse au; fluff; tension; reader and sukuna are co-parents; girl dad sukuna; mentions troubled past with sukuna; alludes to significant size different; sukuna being extremely soft | wc: x | read this for more context & this

note: you and sukuna attend your daughter's winter performance at school

dni if your blog is blank / ageless / or are a minor

your lips part, eyes widening as the crisp air stings the tip of your nose.

you take sukuna in - his tall body leaning against the pillar of the kindergarten in an outfit that's far too sharp than anything you've ever seen him in.

an overcoat, pressed matching colored slacks, a leather belt with a shiny silver buckle, polished loafers and a dark charcoal turtleneck hugging all the muscle he carries. the all black attire highlights his fiery hair and silver piercings glittering underneath the warm light. he has one hand in his pocket, the other flicking through his phone screen.

your heart hammers. the space between your leg pulses.

he looks so good.

you step forward, the heel of your boot climbing up the concrete stairs. he looks up when he hears you approaching, and stands upright to greet you with a warm smile. "hey," he states calmly, berry tinted irises tracking down your body to subtly check you out.

"hi," you reply, but it comes out as a breathy whisper. sukuna rarely ever dressed up like this. he was a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy. he owned one denim and one leather jacket. he loved worn band tees, gym attire and cut out shirts. he hated spending money on clothes because he found it "frivolous" and instead would blow it on his motorbike, booze, and weed. he rented a suit once and complained the entire time. but this...

"you look," you stammered, unable to ignore the slight spark that ignited between the space where you both stood. "you look really good, ryo..."

he runs his hand over his freshly trimmed undercut, the scent of oak moss and wood wafting across your nose and making you picture an evergreen forest.

"thanks," he murmurs with a slight pout, his face falling into an honest expression of uncertainty. "I thought I overdid it a little..." "not at all, you look…fantastic…” you answer with a shake of your head and a firm word of reassurance. "this shit cost me an arm and a leg, but I had nothing else to wear tonight..." he huffed, before relaxing his stance. "glad it paid off at least" you furrow your brows softly, "you bought all this for her play?" a hint of pink kisses sukuna's cheeks and he averts his eyes shyly. "yeah, the brat keeps complaining about my scary clothes and shit..." your heart melts over the gesture.

when you think about how much sukuna cares for your daughter, how much he wants to prove to her and everyone else around him that he does, in fact, take his role as a father seriously, it makes you immensely proud of him.

you've seen the growth in the man.

the sukuna you knew five years ago and the man standing before you now were two completely different people.

and that fact messes with your head.

you swore to yourself that you would never take him back.

that you would never give him a second chance.

"anyway, shall we head inside? the show is about to start in fifteen minutes..." he interjects, cutting your thoughts abruptly before you even have a chance to tell him anything else.

you nod your head, and he casually places his palm against the small of your back to lead you inside.

the parents were cramped in the auditorium, the steel fold out chairs were uncomfortably cold but even more so for your former ex lover who was struggling to find a position for his large physique. after watching him suffer for a few minutes, you finally offered him your own seat on the aisle to give his legs a bit of breathing room.

"fucking hell, all this money we spend and they can't get some decent chairs in..." he complains and you chuckle as you bump his shoulder into his.

the performance was all about celebrating the seasons of the year and each class from the kindergarten were set to perform a specific season. the first batch of kids started with the spring season, where the kids sang and danced in little floral costumes as they taught the audience in question all about how spring brings abundance and the start of something new. the next scene moved into summer, where the performance transitioned to upbeat tempos as the kids celebrated the warmth that the season brings. the third scene transitoned to fall, where the colors of the set morphed into earth tones as the kids sang about the celebration of the harvest.

and finally it was the last scene to honor the beauty of the ice, cold winter. the scene where your daughter was performing. you nudge sukuna when you notice him dozing off, and he instantly perks upright to catch the part that he's been waiting for all night.

his face lights up when his daughter scampers onto the stage, dressed as a sparkling little snowflake. you both can see her eyes scanning the crowd, and her face brightens when she finds the two of you.

sukuna leans in to whisper in your ear, "she wanted to wear that from when she woke up this morning..."

"and did you let her?" you prod, teasing him over his softness towards her and knowing full well that she could have easily gotten her way with him.

"hell no. I wasn't going to deal with the mess of all that glitter," he answers back, your voices getting lower as the audience hushes.

the performance starts - your daughter is twirling and moving with confidence. she sings along with the choir and whenever you glance towards sukuna, you find him beaming with pride the entire time.

and then there was her big moment, her solo.

the one she has been going on and on about for weeks.

the spotlight shines on her as she takes center stage, her small hands squeezing into two tight balls as she shifts her weight from one foot to the next.

she's nervous, you can see it and it makes you itch with anticipation. you can't help but tug at sukuna's sleeve subconsciously, but the man responds by naturally taking your hand in his own.

your daughter swallows the lump in her throat, a hint of fear veiling her eyes as she glances to the side of the stage then back to the audience.

her eyes fall to you and sukuna once again, and the man simply meets her focus as he playfully waves his fingers in her direction.

her small hand relaxes, and she gives him a secret wave in return before easing her stance.

your eyes sting with tears at the interaction before she starts to sing.

you're holding your breath the entire time, pride sitting at your throat as you let go of sukuna to pull out your camera to record the entire thing. her confidence unfurls as she carries on her performance, making you think of all the afternoons and evenings she has spent performing her solo in front of you and probably sukuna while at home. by the end she takes a dramatic bow before returning to the rest of her cast.

you pause the video and turn to the man by your side who is applauding louder than everyone else in the room.

he looks at you with nothing but fulfillment.

"that's our girl," he says with a wolfish grin and cheeky wink, only triggering happy tears to fall.

sukuna drapes his arm around you, and you sling your own around his bicep in return, the other wiping away at your cheek. "yeah," you answer with a sniffle, "yeah it is"

for a moment your eyes lock, the two of forgetting your surroundings as the final song ensues.

“thank you for bringing her into my world,” sukuna murmurs, his lips merely inches from yours. but you don’t even pick up on the depth of what his gratitude even means.

you dab away at the dampness on your face. “that girl is your world, ryo” you tease but pause when you notice his face soften as he dips his gaze to your bottom lip.

“you both are.” he clarifies earnestly, but you are too stunned to speak.

he leans forward, and replicates what happened on the sofa just a few months ago by placing a small but innocent kiss on the corner of your lip.

“you both are.”

[girlkisser13]

pussy drunk jason todd

pairings: jason todd x fem!reader

warnings/tags: smut (18+), pussy drunk jason, oral sex (r receiving), pussy eating, dirty talk, multiple orgasms

divider by @plutism

"may i?"

jason's pouting face hovers over your bare stomach. he'd been busy littering light kisses and bites on the skin of your thighs, his fingers teasing with the waistband of your panties but waiting until he has your permission to rip them off.

you nod hastily, making him laugh at your eagerness. you'd huff about how cocky he's being, but you find yourself biting back the remarks to watch him peel down your underwear.

immediately, his breath stutters. his pupils dilate. black eats away at his blue irises as he stares down at your pussy, mesmerized.

"may i?" he asks again, now more breathless. you thought he was teasing you at first, asking for your permission to make you squirm. but as you notice how his eyes flicker from your cunt to your eyes, you realize that he's not asking. he's pleading.

"yes." it comes out raspy, and again a bit desperate, but jason doesn't linger on it. instead, he dips his head down and kisses your clit.

"so pretty." he mumbles before flicking out his tongue. your fingers quickly find purchase of the sheets, gripping the fabric tightly as jason works his way down to your slit, mouth teasing at your hole. without warning, he slides his tongue in.

"a-ah!" your back arches, and it only pulls him closer to you, his nose poking at your swollen folds while his tongue works its way into you. he hums as he licks and swallows, the noise sending a shiver up your spine.

"taste so good." he practically moans. "why do you taste so good?"

your face cringes, both in pleasure and in slight embarrassment at how loud the sound is, your moans and his creating a cacophony that is muffled by the wet squelch! your pussy makes each time he forces his tongue into you, or by the slurp! he makes each time he sucks on your clit.

when you cum - which you do fast, way faster than you'd like to admit — jason doesn't stop. he's still busy following his motions, lost to the taste of you.

"jason, please." you push at his head, pull at his hair. "it’s too much."

he pulls back, gasping. "no. let me do this." he grasps your wrists before dipping back down. "let me enjoy this."

you let him do as he pleases. even if it means you'll cum over and over without a second to catch your breath.

[wholoveseggs]

Hey girly, my favorite fic of yours is “Madness” I absolutely adore jealous Elijah(and all my boys for that matter) I would like to request something smutty were reader is making Elijah jealous and than he demands to be shown some respect *wink* *wink*. I know you wrote a few fics like this but I L O V E that trope and I would like to see more if you have any ideas.

thankssss in advance, sending lots of hugs to you 🫶🏻

Chaos

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} A punk-themed night out with the Mikaelsons reveals a side of Elijah you’ve never seen before... and a chance to push boundaries neither of you ever expected.

♡♡ Hello darling @hiddledede-heddlededo!! I adore exploring Elijah's wild, dominant side… so why not throw him into a setting that lets him fully unleash it?? ~ ♡♡

7.8k words - Warnings: smutt, Kol being a flirt, Klaus rocking a mohawk, Rebekah is only going so she can snack on a punk rocker, Elijah taking what he wants, mosh-pits, dom!Elijah, oral sex (f!receiving), little but of butt stuff (also f!receiving), a dash of sir kink, riding, blood drinking, commanding Elijah && lots of punk / metal vibes ...

I'll be tagging ya'll in the comments from now on... because tumblr is not built for tagging lots of users... if you want off the tag list just shoot me a DM!!! (I won't be offended ~xo)

The compound was alive with chaos. Heavy guitar riffs and screaming vocals blasted through the speakers, shaking the walls as you carefully applied your eyeliner at Rebekah's vanity. The faint scent of whiskey lingered in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of nail polish and the distinct musk of leather jackets piled in the corner.

Rebekah was rifling through her closet, tossing clothes haphazardly over her shoulder in search of something remotely punk or goth. A pair of fishnets flew through the air and landed on the bed.

"Rebekah, what are you doing?" you asked, pausing to set the eyeliner down and stand up.

"I can't find anything!" she wailed, slamming the closet doors shut with an air of theatrical defeat.

"Don't worry," you said, picking up the fishnets and smoothing them out with a small laugh. "I have a dress for you that matches the theme perfectly. But you should definitely wear these. They're sexy."

Rebekah snatched them up with a dramatic sigh of relief. "Thank you, darling. You're a lifesaver."

"Of course," you replied, flashing her a quick smile before turning back to the vanity. You picked through her cluttered makeup stash. "Do you have any dark lipstick? Deep red or black would be perfect."

Rebekah nodded, rummaging through a pile of scattered tubes as Kol came bursting through the door. He was a sight to behold. Decked out in all black, with ripped jeans, spiked bracelets glinting on his wrists, and combat boots that looked like they could survive a war. In one hand, he balanced a bottle of bourbon, while the other clutched a portable speaker blaring screeching guitar riffs.

"Are you ready?" he asked, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Almost. We're still deciding on outfits," you replied, laughing as he flung himself onto Rebekah's bed like a rockstar who'd just survived a long set.

Kol took a swig from the bourbon before offering it to you. "Liquid courage, darling?"

You hesitated for only a second before taking the bottle, pretending his playful charm wasn’t contagious. "Thanks, Kol," you said, the burn of the whiskey warming your throat.

He leaned back, plucking the eyeliner pencil you’d left on the vanity and spinning it between his fingers. "I remember when ladies used to color their eyes with coal and berries. Fashion has certainly changed," he mused, his tone light but teasing.

"Want to try it?" you asked.

"Why not?" Kol grinned mischievously.

You stepped closer, grabbing his chin gently. As you leaned in to line his eyes, you couldn’t help but laugh at the boyish excitement glinting in his dark irises. You tried to push thoughts of someone else’s dark, brooding gaze out of your mind.

As you finished lining Kol’s eyes, you smudged the edges just enough to give him a grungy, rebellious look. He turned to the mirror, tilting his head this way and that before flashing you a devilish grin.

"I must say, you’ve outdone yourself, darling," he said, striking a dramatic pose. "Do I look devastatingly handsome? Or perhaps... devastatingly misunderstood?"

"You look ridiculous," you said, laughing as you swatted his arm. "But it’s perfect for tonight."

Kol leaned back on the bed, his grin turning wicked. "Speaking of tonight, are you hoping to catch anyone’s eye? Or just hoping a certain someone finally notices how ravishing you look?"

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don’t play coy with me," Kol said, wagging a finger. "You know exactly who I mean. A certain noble brother of mine who prefers brooding in corners over having any fun."

Your cheeks burned, and you turned back to the vanity, pretending to busy yourself with your makeup. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Kol let out a bark of laughter, swinging his legs off the bed and walking over to lean against the vanity beside you. "Come now, love. I see the way you look at Elijah… Like he hung the stars themselves. It’s positively nauseating."

You shot him a glare through the mirror. "Kol, drop it."  

"Why should I?" he asked with a wicked grin. "It’s not like you’re being subtle about it. Though, I’ll admit, my dear brother could use someone to rattle that insufferable composure of his."  

Rebekah breezed into the room, holding up a slinky black silk dress. "This the one you were talking about?"

You nodded, relieved for the distraction. "Yep. That one will look killer."

"Fantastic." She smiled, grabbing the bourbon from Kol and taking a swig.

You grabbed the black fishnet top and red leather mini skirt from the bed and held them up. "Kol, if you’re going to hang around, at least turn around while I change."

He smirked, raising his hands in mock surrender. "As you wish, my modest little dove," He spun on his heel, facing the wall.  

You rolled your eyes and disappeared into the walk-in closet. Once you were safely inside, you pressed your forehead against the wall, a groan escaping your lips. Of all the people to notice your attraction to Elijah, why did it have to be Kol?

You slipped off your shirt, replacing it with the fishnet top. The sheer fabric clung to your skin, and the bra underneath added just the right amount of daring to the look. As you wiggled into the red leather mini skirt, Kol’s voice broke through your focus.  

"Elijah, though," he mused aloud, clearly unable to keep quiet. "He’d probably combust at the sight of you in a skirt like that. All that decorum? Poof. Gone."  

You rolled your eyes, listening to Rebekah giggle as you tugged your skirt into place, the material hugging your hips snugly. "Kol, do you ever shut up?"  

"Not when there’s fun to be had," he quipped. "Though, if I’m being honest, I might have to lend Elijah a hand tonight. He could use the push."  

You groaned, reaching for your knee-high black boots. "Kol, whatever you’re scheming, just stop. Please."  

"Darling, I would never scheme," he said, the exaggerated indignation in his voice making it clear he was lying.  

After zipping up the boots and smoothing down your skirt, you turned toward him. "Alright, you can look now."

Kol spun around, and his eyes swept over you with a dramatic flourish. He let out a low whistle, his grin widening. "Well, well. Someone looks ravishing. Don't you think, sister?"

"Oh, yes." Rebekah laughed. "That outfit is positively sinful."

"I don't know," you said, biting back a smirk. "Do you think it's too much?"

Kol’s grin softened into something almost mischievously kind. "Darling, let me give you some advice: Elijah may act like he’s above all this chaos, but trust me, he notices. And he cares more than you think."

You frowned, checking yourself out one last time in the mirror, fiddling with a tube of lipstick. "He doesn’t even like this kind of thing. We have nothing in common, Kol. Why would he ever-"

"Please," Kol interrupted, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Elijah is the king of pretending not to care while secretly caring far too much. The trick is pulling him out of his little bubble. Tonight, my dear, you’ve got the perfect opportunity."

Your heart fluttered at the thought, but you quickly shoved it down. "Kol, you’re ridiculous."

"And you’re in denial," he shot back, winking as he plucked the lipstick from your hands and held it up. "Now, are we going with the deep red or black? Because trust me, Elijah won’t be able to take his eyes off you either way."

You snatched the lipstick back with a huff, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re smitten," Kol said, his grin widening. "Now hurry up, or we’ll be late for the party. I have a reputation to uphold, after all."

As he sauntered out of the room, the sound of his laughter trailing behind him, you let out a shaky breath. Maybe Kol was right. Maybe tonight wasn’t just about wild music and dancing. Maybe it was your chance to show Elijah a side of yourself he’d never noticed before.

The thought sent a thrill through you, and you turned back to the mirror with renewed determination.

"Deep red it is," you murmured to yourself, a small smile playing on your lips.

You and Rebekah sat on the plush couch in the living room, passing a half-empty bottle of whiskey back and forth as the pounding music from Kol’s speaker vibrated through the walls. The anticipation of the night buzzed in the air, matching the light, happy buzz from the alcohol warming your veins.

"I cannot wait for tonight," Rebekah said, leaning back against the couch, her fishnet-clad legs stretched out in front of her. "It’s been ages since we’ve gone out like this."

You nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I can't remember the last time I went to a real party," you admitted.

The heavy thud of boots descending the stairs announced the arrival of Kol and Klaus. They entered the room like they were walking onto a stage, heads held high and swaggering grins on their faces. Klaus had his hair gelled up into a perfect mohawk. He was dressed in ripped jeans, chains, and a leather jacket adorned with pins. "How do I look?" he asked, spreading his arms wide.

"Ridiculous," Kol replied, but the pride shining in his eyes was undeniable.

Rebekah laughed, rising to her feet and twirling in a circle. Her black dress clung to her body, leaving little to the imagination, and the fishnets underneath made her legs look a mile long. "Well, what about me?"

"These headbangers will eat you alive," Klaus said, winking as he tossed her a leather jacket.

She caught it with ease, slipping it on and grinning at her brothers. "I plan on eating them, actually," she purred.

Kol flopped onto the couch beside you, throwing an arm over your shoulders. "What’s this? Are you two already tipsy? We haven’t even left yet!"

"Don’t worry about us," Rebekah said with a smirk. "We can handle ourselves better than you."

Kol opened his mouth to retort, but the conversation was cut short by the sound of Elijah clearing his throat from the doorway. The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at him.

Elijah stood there, his usual tailored suit in place, his tie perfectly knotted. His brow furrowed slightly as his gaze swept across the group, lingering briefly on Klaus’s mohawk, Kol’s eyeliner, and finally, the whiskey bottle in your hand.

"Well," he said, folding his arms, "I see you’ve all fully embraced the theme."

Klaus shrugged, tossing a casual grin in his brother's direction. "We’ve got to blend in, don’t we? Showing up out of place wouldn’t do."

"Of course," Elijah replied, his eyes never leaving yours. Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you took a quick sip from the bottle, hoping the alcohol would calm your racing heart.

"You should come with us, Elijah," Kol said, flashing a mischievous grin.

"Absolutely not," Elijah replied without hesitation, his tone calm but firm. His gaze shifted to Klaus’s mohawk, a flicker of disapproval crossing his features. "I think it’s clear I’m not suited for... whatever this is."

Kol clapped a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Oh, come now, brother. Where’s your sense of adventure? A little music, a little chaos. It might even loosen that tie of yours."

Elijah’s expression didn’t change, and he didn't miss a beat as he responded, "No, thank you."

You felt a pang of disappointment as his eyes moved away from you. He wasn't interested. Of course he wasn't. You took another sip of whiskey, trying not to dwell on the sting.

"Fine, if that's what you really want," Kol said, shrugging as he rose from the couch. He reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet, a teasing smile on his lips. "The rest of us are off to find trouble. If you change your mind, you're welcome to join."

Klaus and Rebekah fell into step behind him as the four of you made your way toward the door. You paused briefly, looking back at Elijah. Your eyes met for a brief moment, and his expression softened slightly. He gave you a small, reassuring smile, and a spark of hope flared inside you.

Maybe Kol was right. Maybe you just needed to give him a reason. You stopped in the doorway, turning back to face him, a flurry of emotions swirling in your chest.

"It won't be the same without you," you said softly.

Elijah looked at you for a long moment, his expression shifting from conflict to quiet resolve. He sighed, stepping toward you, and his voice was soft when he spoke, "Perhaps a night out wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."

"That's the spirit!" Kol cheered, his grin widening.

Elijah rolled his eyes, but you could see the small, affectionate smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He glanced down at your outfit, his gaze sweeping across you. You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you couldn't help but smile as his eyes met yours.

Elijah’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before looking away. He cleared his throat and straightened, the composed mask slipping back into place. "If I’m to join you, I should dress appropriately," he said, his tone carrying its usual calm authority.

"Meet us outside when you're ready," Kol called as Elijah disappeared up the stairs.

"Wonder what he'll come up with," Klaus said, an amused smirk curling his lips.

"An all black suit?" Rebekah mused, her lips twisting into a playful grin.

"A turtleneck and sunglasses?" Klaus added, chuckling at the image.

Minutes later, Elijah came strolling out of the compound wearing a long sleeve black shirt, dark jeans and black leather jacket. His hair was still slicked back, but there was a slight messiness to it. As if he'd ruffled his fingers through his hair, but still wanted to maintain some level of control.

"What do you think?" he asked, turning to face the group.

Klaus let out a snort of amusement. "You look almost... approachable. It’s unsettling."

You walked over to Elijah, feeling a small spark of bravery as you reached up and messed up his hair a bit more, causing it to fall into his eyes. "There. Now you're perfect," you said with a soft smile.

Elijah raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling. "Perfect for what?"

You shrugged. "Whatever you want," you replied.

His gaze drifted over your face, landing on your lips. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were standing. You could smell the faint scent of his cologne, see the soft stubble along his jaw, feel the warmth radiating off his body. You were tempted to reach out and touch him, but you pulled back instead.

"So, are we ready?" Kol asked, breaking the tension.

You stepped back from Elijah, your heart racing. "Definitely."

The party was held in a massive warehouse, its towering ceilings lost in shadow and its walls covered in glowing graffiti under blacklights. Purple and blue lights flickered in rhythm with the pounding music, casting the packed crowd into a surreal, shifting glow. The scent of sweat and alcohol lingered in the air, mingling with the haze of fog and cigarette smoke.

Kol was a force of nature, pushing through the throng and carving a path to the center of the floor. He turned to face you and the others, raising his voice over the roar of the crowd. "What do you say? Shall we make our presence known?"

You nodded and let him drag you forward, laughing as the music grew louder and the bodies closed around you. Soon, you were swept up in the chaos. Your heart pounded in time with the bass, the rhythm coursing through your veins.

Elijah watched you disappear into the crowd, he let out a sigh.

"Having second thoughts, brother?" Klaus asked, a teasing smirk on his lips.

"Something like that," Elijah muttered, his gaze sweeping across the room. Everyone was slamming into each other, acting animalistic as they moved to whatever chaotic, screaming vocals were currently blasting through the speakers. He didn't understand how anyone could enjoy something like this.

Rebekah looped her arm through his and tugged him toward the makeshift bar. "Come on. I'm sure we can find a drink to your liking," she said, dragging him along.

Elijah let out a huff, allowing himself to be dragged across the room.

Rebekah's smile widened as she flagged down the bartender. "Two shots, please."

Elijah looked up at the rafters above them, wondering what he'd gotten himself into. "What exactly are we drinking?"

"Tequila," Rebekah said, placing two shot glasses on the counter. She picked one up, and held it out to him. "Bottoms up."

Elijah let out a resigned sigh and reached for the glass. "Fine. Bottoms up," he said, tapping his glass against hers.

The liquor burned his throat, but it did nothing to loosen the tension in his body. He felt the weight of a dozen gazes on him, the whispers and stares following him wherever he went.

"This place is crawling with vampires," he murmured, scanning the room.

"I know," Rebekah said, tossing back the last of her whiskey. "You worried for our human friend? Because you know she's safe as long as we're around."

Elijah glanced in the direction where he'd last seen you, and found the spot empty. A twinge of worry ran through him, and he leaned forward, raising his voice. "Where is she?"

"Relax," Rebekah said, laughing. "She's with Kol, he won't let anything happen to her."

Elijah felt his jaw tense. The thought of you being alone with Kol, in this crowd, filled him with a mixture of apprehension and jealousy. He shook his head, trying to focus on the task at hand.

Rebekah raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter? Worried about Kol? Or is there someone else on your mind?"

Elijah looked at her sharply. "No. Why would you say that?"

"Because you want her all to yourself," Klaus chimed in, ordering two drinks. One for himself and one for a heavily tattooed blonde that had been eyeing him for the past five minutes.

"I do not," Elijah insisted.

Rebekah scoffed. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. Just admit it, you like her. That's why you came tonight."

"I came because Kol was relentless and I had no choice," Elijah snapped.

Klaus snorted, turning to his sister. "What Elijah really means to say is 'I can't let Kol steal the girl I'm so obviously in love with,'" he said.

"I am not in love with anyone," Elijah insisted, ignoring the fact that his eyes were still searching for you in the crowd.

"Right," Klaus said, a smug smirk curling his lips. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Why don't you just tell her how you feel? Unless, of course, you're afraid she'll reject you. I wouldn't blame her. Who would ever want a boring stick-in-the-mud like you?"

Elijah gave Klaus a look that could have frozen hell, but his brother simply laughed, winking at the tattooed blonde.

"What do you think darling? Should my brother try his luck or continue to pine from a distance?" Klaus asked the blonde.

She leaned over the bar, her gaze sweeping over him. "I say he should try his luck," she purred, her fingers playing with the edge of Klaus' leather jacket. "But he looks too uptight. A few drinks might loosen him up."

"I am not uptight," Elijah protested, his eyes narrowing.

Klaus grinned, pulling the blonde closer. "Maybe we should show him how it's done," he murmured.

"I think that's a great idea," she said, her lips inches from his.

Elijah rolled his eyes, looking away from them as they started to make out. Rebekah let out a laugh and grabbed his hand, dragging him towards the dance floor.

"Yuck, let's get out of here," she said, weaving through the crowd.

He allowed himself to be dragged across the floor, his gaze landing on a familiar figure. You were dancing with Kol, your hands in the air, hips swaying to the music. Elijah couldn't look away.

Kol leaned in and said something to you. You laughed, shaking your head. Elijah felt a rush of envy, the sensation foreign and uncomfortable. Kol's hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer. You didn't resist, a small smile playing on your lips. Elijah gritted his teeth.

"Looks like Kol has stolen your girl," Rebekah said, glancing over her shoulder at him.

"She's not mine," Elijah replied, his eyes fixed on the pair.

Kol pulled you closer, his lips brushing your ear. The music changed, and the tempo increased, the lights flashing faster. The press of bodies forcing you closer together and Elijah lost sight of you. He could feel his temper rising, a strange sense of possessiveness overcoming him.

Rebekah smirked, shaking her head. "Go. Show her you can be fun, too," she said, giving him a nudge.

He hesitated, torn between his own anxieties and desire.Perhaps it was time to step out of his comfort zone, time to take a risk. Elijah swallowed, steeling his nerves. He could do this. He could show you that he wasn't some stuffy, uptight, boring old vampire. That he would fit in at a place like this.

Elijah looked back at his sister, who now had her arms wrapped around the neck of a man who had more pericings than skin. She was whispering something in his ear, and a grin spread across his face. She flashed Elijah a wink before vanishing into the crowd with the pierced man. It seemed everyone was getting a taste of the party tonight. Everyone but him.

The song changed, a pulsing beat thudding through the speakers. He caught sight of you and Kol just as the crowd surged, everyone around him began to thrash and he realised he was in the midst of a mosh pit.

His senses were overwhelmed, the press of bodies, the screaming music, the flashing lights. His instinct was to fight his way free, but the urge to see you, to have you see him, was stronger. He gritted his teeth and pushed forward, ignoring the elbows that collided with his ribs, the fists that struck his shoulder, the shoves and kicks from all sides. The chaos, the strobing lights, the deafening music, all of it swirled around him as he pressed on.

He saw you, a few feet away, your back pressed against Kol's chest, your arms in the air, head tilted back. A flash of heat rushed through him, and he pushed harder, shoving past the crowd. Kol saw him coming first, and he smiled, keeping his eyes on Elijah as he kissed your neck.

You let out a gasp, twisting to look at Kol. You were laughing, pushing on his chest. Elijah was close enough to hear your words. "You're an ass!"

"Oh, come on," Kol teased, his arms still tight around your waist. "Don't pretend you don't like it."

Your face was flushed, and you opened your mouth to respond, but the words died on your lips when you spotted Elijah. He stood a few feet away, his expression a mixture of anger and concern. Your gaze drifted over him, taking in his ruffled hair, his dark, smoldering eyes, the way his leather jacket hugged his muscular frame.

Kol's grin widened. "See something you like?" he purred, his voice carrying a teasing note.

Elijah ignored him, his eyes locked on yours. The tempo surged, bodies colliding in wild abandon. A rush of adrenaline flooded Elijah’s senses, and before he could second-guess himself, he reached for your hand. His grip was firm, but his touch sent an unexpected jolt through you, grounding you in the chaos.

"Elijah?" you called over the music, your voice laced with surprise.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled you into the fray, his movements uncharacteristically reckless. The crowd surged around you, a wave of bodies slamming and thrashing, and for a moment, you thought he might pull you free of it. But instead, Elijah stayed, his grip on your hand steady as he moved with you, matching the rhythm of the music.

Your laughter rang out as you realized what he was doing. Elijah Mikaelson. Always composed. Always in control….Was letting go. He moved with you, his usually precise steps turning wild as the music took over. The press of the crowd pushed you closer together, the heat of his body mingling with the fevered energy of the room.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point, his hands found your waist. He steadied you as the pit surged again, his strength grounding you as you danced together, the frenzy building with each beat. His touch burned through the thin fabric of your top, and when you looked up, his eyes locked with yours.

The chaos seemed to dissolve into nothingness, the lights and music fading to a distant echo as the world narrowed to the two of you. You were breathing hard, your heart pounding, and you wondered if he could hear it, feel it.

As if sensing your thoughts, his hand moved from your waist to the base of your neck. His touch was gentle but firm as he pulled your mouth to his. The kiss was searing, a jolt of heat and desire rushing through you. He tasted of tequila and sin, his lips soft but demanding.

Your hands moved to his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm under your touch. You pressed closer, losing yourself in the kiss. The world blurred at the edges, but for the first time that night, you felt entirely clear.

When the kiss broke, the roar of the crowd and the chaos came rushing back. Elijah's chest was heaving, his breath hot against your cheek. Your hands slid down his arms, your fingers tangling with his. He lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting yours. You were both flushed and breathless, the weight of the moment hanging heavy between you.

The song changed, and someone behind him slammed into his back, shoving him against you. Your mouths met again, the kiss hungry and desperate, a need rising between the two of you. He pushed you backwards until you felt the cool, rough concrete against your back. His hand cradled the back of your head as his tongue traced the seam of your lips.

"Elijah," you moaned, parting your lips to let him in, your hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer.

He groaned, the sound deep and primal, vibrating out of him and into you. You kissed him back, pouring every ounce of longing and need into it, until you were both breathless. 

When you finally broke apart, your eyes were wide, your lips swollen and red. You couldn't speak, the intensity of the moment rendering you speechless.

Elijah's hands lingered on your hips, his gaze holding yours. "Do you want to get out of here?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

You swallowed, your heart pounding, and nodded. "Yes," you breathed, a slow, nervous smile spreading across your lips.

His hands tightened, his fingers digging into your skin. There was a flicker of hunger in his eyes, but it was tempered by something softer, more tender. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. "Let's go home."

The two of you stumbled out of the warehouse, Elijah's hand gripping yours tightly. You couldn't stop smiling, the night still swirling in a haze around you. You passed Kol, who was surrounded by two women and a man, all of whom were practically drooling over him. He flashed you a wink as the four of them made their way to a dark corner.

The night air was a relief after the stifling heat of the warehouse, steam rising from your skin as you made your way down the street. You walked side-by-side, shoulders brushing, the silence between you thick with anticipation. You stole a glance at Elijah, his profile sharp in the glow of the streetlamps, and you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach. You couldn't wait to see where the night would take you.

As the door to Elijah's room clicked shut, a sense of apprehension and nervousness fell over you. You'd never been in his room before, and the thought of being alone with him filled you with a mixture of exhilaration and apprehension.

You glanced around, taking in the neatly organized bookshelves, the leather couch and the large bed. Not a speck of dust, not a single sock or shirt lying about. You had expected nothing less from him.

You walked over to his bed, running your fingers across the smooth, soft comforter. Elijah stood a few feet away, watching you, his hands resting loosely at his sides, nervously twitching as he tried to maintain his composure.

"Are you alright?" you asked, turning to face him.

He nodded, swallowing. "I'm fine," he replied, his tone flat.

You could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his jaw was clenched. He was nervous, you realized. Nervous about being alone with you, about crossing this invisible line between friends and... whatever this was.

You stepped toward him, placing a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly. "Elijah," you said softly.

His eyes met yours, the uncertainty clear in their dark depths. You gave him a reassuring smile, letting your hand slide up his chest, until it rested against his neck. You could feel the muscles there tighten, the slight tremor that ran through him as you leaned in.

Your lips brushed his, a whisper of a kiss, and then his mouth was on yours, the kiss deep and intense. He guided you over to his couch, sitting down and pulling you into his lap. Your legs straddled him, and his hands ran along the smooth expanse of your thighs, gripping your hips as the kiss intensified.

A low, rumbling growl rose up in his chest, his desire for you clear in the way his lips claimed yours, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt, the way his fingers dug into your soft skin. You always suspected he had it in him, a wild, rough passion that lay beneath the cool exterior. Now, as his hands roamed over your body, as his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, you knew it was true.

You wanted him to know that you liked it. You wanted him to know that he could be rough, that you would never break. That you could take everything he had to give.

"Don't hold back," you whispered against his lips.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze searching yours. "Are you sure?"

"I trust you," you murmured, your hand cupping his face.

"I could hurt you," he breathed, his voice strained.

You smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "You won't."

He studied you for a moment, and then a mischievous smirk curled his lips. He reached down, hooking his arms under your legs and standing. You let out a yelp of surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you over to the bed.

He placed you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt a thrill run through you, anticipation coiling in the pit of your stomach. You watched as he stripped off his shirt, tossing it aside. You drank in the sight of his toned torso, the light sheen of sweat glistening across his chest, the flex of his muscles as he leaned down, his lips finding yours again.

"Stay here, just like this. I'll be right back," he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Where are you going?" you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Trust me, it will be worth it," he said, giving you a wink before slipping out of the room.

You settled back against the pillows, closing your eyes. Your mind was racing, replaying the events of the night, at first Kol's attempt at seduction and then Elijah's. A slow, content smile spread across your face. You could certainly get used to this.

A few moments later, you heard the door open and close. You opened your eyes, sitting up. Elijah had Kol's portable speaker in one hand and his phone in the other. You raised an eyebrow at him, confused.

"What are you doing?" you asked, watching as he set the speaker on the bedside table.

"Music," he replied, a playful grin tugging at his lips. He tapped the screen and a loud metal song began to play. "I confess, I've become a bit of a fan."

"Oh yeah?" you asked, amused.

He nodded, moving towards you. He climbed onto the bed, crawling up your body until he was hovering over you. "Mmhmm," he murmured, his lips ghosting along the shell of your ear. "It has a certain appeal. It's raw... primal. Much like what I'd like to do to you right now."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your belly. Your fingers threaded into his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. The kiss was rough, his lips and tongue demanding, his hands sliding under your shirt, pushing the fabric up and over your head. He tossed the shirt aside, his mouth moving to your neck, kissing and biting, leaving a trail of marks across your collarbone.

"Are you going to be my good girl?" he purred, his breath hot against your skin.

You moaned, arching into him. "Yes," you gasped, your fingers gripping his hair.

"Yes, what?" he asked, nipping at your jaw.

"Yes, sir," you breathed, your mind reeling at the newfound authority in his tone.

"Good," he murmured, his hands moving to your thighs. He pushed your skirt up, bunching the fabric around your waist. He groaned, his gaze drinking in the sight of your panties. "Such a pretty, little, soaked, innocent thing," he murmured.

You swallowed, a flush creeping up your cheeks. He looked up at you, his gaze intense, a hint of a smirk curling his lips. He moved down your body, his mouth pressing a line of hot, wet kisses across your abdomen, his fingers tracing circles on the insides of your thighs.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he said, his voice rough with need.

You felt the heat of his breath against the fabric of your panties, and you shifted, lifting your hips, a soft whimper escaping your lips. You felt him smirk against your thigh, his hands hooking under your legs and gripping your hips, his fingertips digging into the flesh.

He pulled your panties down, tossing them aside. You heard the music change, a deep, thrumming beat filling the room, a bass-heavy song that you knew well. Elijah grinned, his tongue dragging along your slit, his gaze locking with yours. You gasped, your hips bucking against his mouth. He chuckled, the sound sending a rush of heat through you.

"Fuck," you moaned, your fingers threading into his hair.

He hummed, his tongue delving deeper, lapping at the slickness of your arousal, his fingers digging into your hips. You arched into him, panting, lost in the sensation of his mouth on you, his tongue working expertly. He sucked your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you.

The song changed again, and he pulled back slightly, his mouth glistening with your arousal. He smirked, his thumb pressing against your swollen, aching clit. You let out a breathy moan, writhing beneath him.

"Do you like that, sweetheart?" he purred, rubbing small, slow circles around the sensitive bud.

You bit your lip, nodding. "Y-yes," you stammered.

"Good girl," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Now, come sit on my lap," he ordered.

You blinked, taken aback. You had no idea he was into this kind of thing, and you had to admit, it was a pleasant surprise. You watched as he sat back, unbuckling his belt, his cock straining against his pants. He undid the button and zipper, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free his erection.

You swallowed, staring at his impressive length. He smirked, his gaze fixed on yours as he gestured for you to join him. You moved towards him, and he gripped your arm, his grip firm but not painful, pulling you onto his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs.

You let out a shaky breath, bracing your hands on his shoulders. He smiled, his hands coming to rest on your hips. "Where has that wild thing from the mosh pit gone, hm?" he murmured, a hint of challenge in his voice.

You swallowed, your face warm. "Right here," you replied, rolling your hips, rubbing yourself along the length of his cock.

He groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. "Show me," he growled, his dark eyes flashing with hunger.

You shifted, reaching between the two of you and grasping his length. He let out a sharp hiss as you lined him up with your entrance, sinking down, taking him inch by inch, until you were fully seated. You both groaned, your forehead resting against his, your hands gripping his shoulders.

He took in the sight of your tits spilling from the low-cut bra you wore, the music playing, the sweat glistening on your skin. Something primal rose up in him. He gripped your hips, pulling you up and then slamming you back down, using his strength to set the pace. You moaned, your walls fluttering around him, his mouth pressed against your pulse, nipping at the delicate skin of your neck.

His grip was tight, his fingers bruising, and you found yourself wondering what he would think if you asked him to hold you down. To pin you under him and have his wicked way with you. If he would think less of you. Or perhaps if that's something he enjoyed, a new revelation to discover together.

Your slick began dripping down onto his balls, making you feel wet and messy. You could barely breathe, and you felt as though your entire body was on fire. You couldn't hold yourself back anymore, and a pathetic little cry escaped you.

Elijah's hands squeezed your ass, and he pulled you closer to him, so that his chest was pressed against yours.

"Look at me." He whispered, his lips brushing over your ear.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you stared into his deep, dark eyes. He smiled, his hands sliding up your back. He unclasped your bra, tugging the straps off your arms, tossing the bra aside. His lips immediately latched onto one of your breasts, his tongue swirling around the nipple.

The song changed again, the drumbeat surging around you, your hips moving to the rhythm. You cried out, throwing your head back as an orgasm began to build low in your belly, your walls tightening around his cock.

"Fuck," you cursed, clinging to him, your hips rocking desperately. You were close, the pressure mounting, your legs trembling. He growled, his lips still at your breast, his teeth grazing your nipple.

"You're not allowed to come, sweetheart. Not yet. I decide when," he groaned, his voice low and commanding.

A whine escaped you, your nails digging into his shoulder blades, a mixture of pleasure and frustration welling up within you. He smirked, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, nipping at your bottom lip. He licked the salt from your skin, his hands grasping the globes of your ass, guiding your movement, setting a slow, deliberate pace.

One of his hands moved between your cheeks, his fingers teasing your puckered hole. You let out a soft moan, and he smiled, watching your face contort in pleasure.

"Does that feel good, darling?" he asked, his tone gentle.

You nodded, unable to speak, your whole body tingling. This dominant side of him was something you'd only imagined in your wildest dreams, but even then, it seemed to pale in comparison. He was everything you'd hoped for and more.

He hummed, pushing a finger into you, pumping it slowly. You let out a desperate gasp, burying your face against his shoulder, grinding into his finger. Your breath was coming fast and shallow, your heart racing, and you realized you were dangerously close to the edge.

"Elijah," you whimpered, your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders, your toes curling.

"Hmm?" he whispered, nibbling on your earlobe.

"Please, please, please, I can't- I'm gonna-" you babbled, your whole body shuddering.

He shushed you, kissing the top of your head. "It's okay, just try and hold on a little longer," he murmured.

You shook your head, unable to form a coherent thought. You were so wound up, the pleasure crashing over you in waves. All you could focus on was the feeling of his finger and cock, stretching you, filling you. You needed more.

Suddenly, he thrust into you, deeply and slowly, dragging himself out. It was maddening. You clenched around him, arching your back, moaning into his ear. He chuckled, repeating the motion, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. The music surged around you, the bass beating in time with your racing heart.

"E-Elijaah!" you cried, your walls fluttering around his length.

He chuckled at your desperation, his lips ghosting over your own, nipping at your bottom lip. "That's my girl," he murmured.

You moaned, his tongue darting into your mouth, silencing any retort you may have had. Everything snapped into place, all the tension and frustration of the night's events coming to a climax. You exploded, your body trembling, writhing, your orgasm crashing over you, drowning out everything else.

The intensity of your release shocked you. This was by far the most erotic thing you'd ever experienced. You were entirely his, wrung out, writhing on his cock, completely at his mercy. He watched you with an expression of pure satisfaction and awe, a smug grin curling his lips as he fucked into you, his rhythmic movements never stopping.

When the waves of pleasure finally receded, you collapsed against him, panting and spent. He cradled you, gently lowering you onto your back, covering your sweat-slicked body with his own. His weight pressed you into the mattress, his hips grinding into you. He kissed you, his mouth hot and demanding, stealing the breath from your lungs.

The music drowned out the filthy sounds of your bodies colliding, your moans and whimpers lost in the din of the bass. Your fingers gripped his biceps, your nails digging into his flesh. He grunted, leaning in and biting at your lip, his tongue darting past your parted lips. He kissed you fiercely, devouring you until your lungs burned for air.

You broke the kiss, inhaling sharply, trying to catch your breath. His vampiric nature was peeking through, fueled by his passions. You could feel his predatory gaze roaming over your exposed flesh, his gums bloody from where his fangs had nicked his own skin in a heated moment.

You moaned, watching his hips rise and fall, feeling the slap of his skin against your own. This rough, relentless fucking was everything you'd craved and more. You tilted your head up, offering your throat, arching into him. He flashed you a wicked, fanged smirk, his breath fanning over your neck, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"Such a beautiful, sweet thing," he purred, taking your earlobe between his teeth. "Are you offering yourself to me, darling?"

Your lips curled into a smile as you breathed, "Yes."

Without warning, Elijah buried his fangs into the soft skin of your throat. A yelp tore from your lips, the shock mingling with the sensations his cock and fangs induced. His hands tightened on your ass, spreading you open, his hips picking up speed. The slight pain of his bite only heightened your pleasure.

"Oh, yes, yes! Fuck, yes!" you moaned, loud and unabashed, lost to the sensation, completely at his mercy.

Elijah sucked in a deep, guttural breath, his throat working as he drained a few mouthfuls of your blood. You dug your nails into his skin, grinding your hips up and into him, desperate to feel more. He growled low in his throat, his fangs sharp and tearing, his hips pounding into you, your name a frantic whisper falling from his lips.

A white-hot wave of heat flooded you, starting at the crown of your head and rushing down your body, between your legs and spreading up through your stomach and chest. The feeling was so intense that you fell off the edge, orgasm slamming into you. You cried out, trembling beneath him, your hips jerking wildly. He let out a sharp gasp, his whole body stiffening, his cock twitching as he came inside you, filling you with his cum.

A string of curses left your lips as you fell from your peak, Elijah gently licked at the puncture wounds on your throat, his fangs receding. You closed your eyes, taking a few steadying breaths, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

There were no words that could fully encapsulate the way you were feeling, so instead, you hugged him tightly to you, hoping he would understand.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, brushing the hair from your face. You smiled, trailing your fingertips over the taut muscles of his biceps. He hummed, looking down at you with a content, satisfied expression.

"Are you alright?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, your breath still coming in shallow gasps. "I think you’ve just ruined me for anyone else."

His eyes darkened, the faintest flicker of possessiveness returning. "Good," he said simply, making you chuckle.

The sound of the music still thudded softly in the background, but the world outside the two of you felt distant, inconsequential. Elijah shifted, his hands smoothing over your sides as he cradled you against him, kissing and nipping along your neck and jaw.

"Where have you been hiding this side of you?" you teased, your voice soft but playful.

Elijah chuckled, giving you a lopsided grin. "Darling, that's just the tip of the iceberg."

Your eyes widened, a nervous heat spreading across your cheeks. "Oh?" you inquired, your mind already racing at the implications.

He nodded, a dark glint in his eyes. "Mmhmm."

"So, I should probably delete Kol's number, huh?" you asked, teasing.

Elijah's eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. He leaned in, resting his weight on his forearm, his lips a hair's breadth away from yours.

"Most definitely," he murmured, claiming your lips in a heated, passionate kiss.

Needless to say, you had no complaints.

I'll be tagging ya'll in the comments from now on... because tumblr is not built for tagging lots of users... if you want off the tag list just shoot me a DM!!! (I won't be offended ~xo)

[lady-lauren]

❥ RYOMEN SUKUNA X FEM! READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: Cannibalism (Sukuna just takes a few bites of you, as a treat), Sukuna has two cocks and four arms, major dub-con, blood, Sukuna is a sadist, double penetration (vaginal and ass fucking), degradation, branding (his name on your skin), squirting, belly bulge, overstimulation, creampie

Dead Dove Do Not Eat. I’m serious. Sukuna eats more than just pussy.

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

“Oh you poor, poor little thing,” his maniacal mouth coos, sweat shimmering against the black lines of his body like an abyss, “does it hurt? I bet it does.”

It’s a rarity that Sukuna plays with his toys, normally too insatiable to take his time and savor. But you’re just so sweet, juicy with fear and plump with arousal. 

He’ll have to taste the whole menu to decide which doughy part of you is his favorite. 

You’re spread open like a feast, two hands prying your legs apart while another keeps your pesky hands locked above your head. Sorcerers are tricky—one lapse in judgment and you’ll be squirming out of his bed, throwing annoying techniques at him like you really think you stand a chance.

Perhaps you won’t, though. Your precious cunt is drooling for him, even as his fourth hand digs a claw into the flesh of your thigh. Blood swells to the surface, spilling in a streak down your skin. So close to where your pussy is stretched open, where your tight little hole is fluttering like it's scared. 

“Just a few little bites, m’kay? Then maybe, just ~maybe~ I’ll let you go.”

“H-how many?” 

He’s surprised you can still speak. 

“Hmmmm,” his voice rumbles in the thick confines of his throat as he ponders. Carmine irises flicker over the shape of you. “This looks good.” Sukuna taps his bloody fingertip to the underside of your breast, pressing into the gooey fat. “This too.” He traces a sharp fingernail across the juncture of your neck and shoulder, eyes sparking when you swallow. “And I already got started down here.”

Sukuna digs a claw back into your sore thigh, using the barest hint of his strength to rip into your tender muscle. 

Your scream makes a satisfied shiver run down all of his limbs, both cocks throbbing. They twitch together, hot and angry, red tips leaking down his shafts.

Licking his lips, he admires the sugary shine of your subcutaneous tissue, peeled back to reveal bloody insides of your flesh. Just a little rip, a stringy bit of meat that’s too easy to fully tear off and slide between his teeth. 

Sukuna swallows and the taste of you makes him want to cum.

“Mhmmmm, fuck, what did you do to get so flavorful, hm? Or have you always been so sweet?” 

He watches you whimper and wiggle, nipples hard and puffy. 

“You like this?” The grin that curls around the tattoos on his cheeks is sickening. “What a fucking delightful little human. I’ve never gotten lucky enough to find one of the sluts.”

He tests his theory under the safety net of knowing that pain makes you numb. Releasing your wrists, he revels in how you simply let the weight of freedom fall into his mattress. You aren’t going anywhere.

Your poor little pussy is creaming, squishy and wet and begging. He likes the way it smells—tangy, thick honey. It almost overpowers the iron scent of dripping blood. 

“‘Suppose you need some attention. Don’t want you passing out before I’m done.”

You gratify him with a high-pitched moan as he swirls two fingers against your cunt, knuckles sticky in your slick. Easy, it’s far, far too easy for him to slip his digits into you. Normally there’s resistance, like human pussies are trying to push him out, yet you’re sucking him in.

“What should I eat next? Pick for me.”

All the emotions that filter over your face are foreign to him. He’s not sure what you’re thinking, but can smell some sick mixture of pain and pleasure rippling over your skin as you weakly buck your hips. His fingers sink deeper into your cunt, claws tickling against soft spots that make you mewl. 

“C’mon,” he tsks, “don’t make me wait.”

Your little gulp is so cute, “My c-cunt…”

“Oh, don’t get greedy. Dessert comes last. Try again.”

You’re almost shy as you drag one of your hands from above your head, trailing down to cup one of your breasts and squeeze. “Here?”

“My, my, those tits do look delicious.” 

He shoves a third finger into your weeping hole as he latches his teeth to the fat of your breast. 

He sucks, tastes your sweat, licks at the salt. As the first bite hits his taste buds, blood trickling down the corners of his lips, his eyes go wide in astonishment. He wasn’t expecting such a burst of flavor, like jellied candy popping in his mouth.

Your shrieks are just fodder, background noise, as he hums in delight and sucks at the viscid lining of your skin.

Fuck. With the next bite he wants to be inside you, feel the tremors of your wrecked body around his dicks. 

The wound bleeds down your stomach as he pulls away, swallowing and licking along his sharp teeth to gather the remnants. 

“Aren’t you just such a treat?” 

Sukuna swats your cheek, quick with his nails angled like a cat so he can scratch at your skin. Your head lolls to the sheets, panting, damaged tits heaving as you try to find sanity. It’s too late for that. He’s going to break your body and mind, binge in your honeyed sorrow. 

“Wakey, wakey, little human. You won’t want to miss what comes next.”

Your brows pinch as he draws his messy fingers from your cunt, only to wrap a hand around each of his cocks so he can pop both heads into your holes. 

That wakes you up. 

“C-can’t, n-not both.” 

“Oh please, you’re all soft and squishy. Girls are made to be fucked.”

The swell of your belly as he pushes in makes him even hungrier. Your ass strangles his cock, the rim wet with the drippings of your slick. He hates that he has to be careful. A too strong push could split you on his dicks, and he’s having far too much fun to be devouring your guts just yet. 

But he’s not gentle. All four hands latch onto you—legs held so wide it’s nearly obscene, the other two sinking into your rib cage and smearing in blood so he can pull you down until you’re impaled. 

The squeeze of you is divine. 

The heavy mass of his cocks stretches your walls thin. He can feel the outline of both his dicks as he starts to thrust, mushroom heads catching on one another before bullying in deep.

It’s no surprise that you’re crying—humans always cry, sob, beg. It is perplexing and oh so satisfying, however, that you’re blubbering because you feel good amidst all your pain and suffering. Your hips are rolling back to meet his thrusts, pussy convulsing every time his pelvis grinds into your clit. 

Your bleeding and broken body is devouring him just like he swallowed your flesh. Your gooey pussy is sucking around him, dragging along his shaft like lips gobbling him whole. 

The hiss he releases is sinful, like a snake coiling as his tattooed thighs presses you deeper into the crimson mess he’s created. He likes the way the ichor stains your skin. He takes a bloodied hand and curls it around your thigh, fingers long enough to overlap and color your flesh like a brand. He could crunch your bones beneath his palms, break you into pieces if he wanted.

“Do you want me to, ah fuck—” he loses his train of thought when the sound of his voice makes your ass clench, ribbed walls wedging around his second cock. “Never fucking mind giving you the option. I’m keeping you. Alive. Want your body warm every time I fuck it.”

The look in your eyes is so hopeful and darling that it almost makes him feel something. 

Sukuna pummels into your gaping holes and leans over your body to sink his teeth into your neck. He bites hard, hard enough to make you weep and wail and to remind him that you’re only here to be devoured.

He rips tender flesh and digests it, drinking down more of your blood as you start to coo from the stinging pain and numbing ecstasy of having him ravage your sensitive little pussy and ass. You get so tight around him in your anguish, all fucked out and eaten like you’re nothing but a willing piece of meat. 

His wanton tongue laves over your marred skin, sliding through blood and sinew. Humans always were his favorite. Only now he can’t remember what any of them tasted like before you.

Your cunt is slobbering, creaming, and he’s pretty sure he hears your weak little heart stop beating for a split moment before you cum. 

“God what a good fucking slut,” he purrs, eyes rolling back in his head as he feels both of your channels compress around his lengths as you break. “Let’s make you do that again.”

You’re so overstimulated from the bliss of his cocks thrusting in, out, in, deeper, faster that all the suffering he inflicted is null. You cum again because it’s so easy to make you, one of his hands pinching your swollen clit until you squirt all over his toned stomach and your belly bulges from the shape of his inflating cock.

“Ohh I like that. More. Give me more.”

Two hands keep your kicking legs pinned to the bed as another torments your clit and the last is gathering your slick. He runs his fingers over the grooves of his abs and up to his pecs, finally flicking his fingertips into his mouth to eat your cum like sauce. 

His cocks swell at the flavor of you, tart and salty like some kind of rich delicacy. 

Sukuna continues to stuff you full, over and over again, pressing in until it seems like you’ll pop. His balls are bruising against your body with every brutal thrust. You’re babbling and messy, coated in slick and blood and tears and spit. It’s almost disgusting, yet he has to admit you’re just so damn pretty and warm that he thinks it’s cute. Like a pet. 

He rubs at your engorged clit until you’re squirting and screaming again, babbling about how it’s too much. Only it’s not enough, not for him. He’s close to the edge and knows just how to get himself off. 

Sucking at a clawed fingertip, Sukuna eyes a soft patch of skin below your bouncing, intact tit. The other is still seeping, his fresh bite etched into the globe.

“One last thing,” he smirks, crazed and nearly fucked out, “gotta let everyone know these slutty holes belong to me.”

The sharp tip of his nail digs into your meat, slicing the characters of his name as if he was signing a gory, whorish picture. His smile nearly splits his skull at the sight, all bloody and gross and his.

“~K-Kunaaa…” hearing his broken name out of your stupid little slut mouth is the last straw, some primal instinct to claim his prize overwhelming his senses and making him explode. 

Cum bursts from your seams all while bloating in your belly, your ass, pearly white strings glistening against all your fluids. He feels relieved as he releases into you, hot balls pulsing as he feeds his seed into your gummy depths. 

You’re so full of his cum that another orgasm crests over you, making you tremble and quake and scream. He relishes your final squeezes, letting your cunt and ass suction around his cocks until he’s milked dry. 

“I fucking love whores.” Just because he can, he pushes his hand into your bulging belly, laughing as cum gushes from where your pussy is cinched around his shaft. You whimper, twisting against the hands holding your thighs open. 

“No no no,” he wags a finger at you, “I still haven’t had dessert.”

He wonders if he’ll be able to stop himself from sinking his teeth into the delicate, syrupy folds of your cunt. Depends on just how good you taste.

[bindeds]

 ⁺ PORK  KATSU  .ᐟ ˬ˚    ───    s.geto x  gn.reader   .  .  .           ╲   in  which  you  cook  for  him  after  hearing  how  awful  spirits  taste.  takes  place  right after his talk with yuki. 

wc. 538. tags.       fluff,  hurt comfort,  geto’s tired,  you’re his relief —    tagging  @pixelcafe-network. art by srkork on twt!

“You’re home!”

He placed his shoes underneath the small metal rack. Sunlight streaked through his windows in wide and thin strips, your silhouette casting its shape into its lines like a painting.

Suguru doesn’t say anything. It’s hard to, with the day he’s had. He never thought that blonde hair and black turtlenecks could come to be such a haunting image. 

Her words lulled Suguru into a dull sense of self; it was practically fate when he didn't even have words of his own, his own argument to defend the rigid morals he spent his life upholding with sticks and straws.

When he emerged from the hallway like he’d stepped out of his own head, he’s almost immediately met with a wooden spoon near his lips. 

His brows raise. He’s too busy brushing his gaze along your features to notice the pork on the spoon. Your cheeks rose with the corners of your lips, the orange blur of the sunset light tracing the curves of your face. He’d never seen you this happy before. 

“What’s this?”

“I cooked you pork katsu.” Your smile softened into a small curve on your lips as you continued to hold out the spoon for him, the other hand hovering below to catch any liquid that would drip.

Suguru slowly leaned forward as his jaw hung, accepting your invitation the way the windows allow light in at certain angles, certain parts of this small house that seemed to hold your joy and his pain.

He chewed slowly, as if carefully considering the food in his mouth. The soft strips of chicken unfolding and splitting inside, and he wondered aloud,

“Why?”

“ … Why what?”

“You don’t usually like to cook … why now?”

You stare off at the window for a moment, letting the light fill your eyes and rest like beanbags at the bottom of your irises. Your hands retract from him slowly, and as liquid does, some drips onto your other hand. 

“You’ve always told me how horrible spirits taste. I feel bad that you have to put them in your mouth all the time … I wanted to help, even if I’m not an excellent cook … I can learn.”

Suguru’s eyes were slow to widen, and perhaps he let light in too when he searched your mellowed expression and found nothing but earnesty.

He took the spoon and placed it down on the counter. His arms scooped you up into a loose embrace, slowly tightening with the intentions of your actions now swelling in the warmth between.

“Geto …”

Your arms fall like paper around him, but he doesn’t mind. 

“I can’t believe I was going to …”

He cannot finish that sentence, under any circumstances. 

“Going to … what?”

But of course, you wonder anyway. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismisses it quickly, the thoughts made to maim you. He would no longer allow it. “Not anymore.”

If he was going to kill his parents, you were no exception.

But it’s clear to see that having you here, breathing with your ribs pressed against his was worth every inch of slop and grime that ever grazed his tongue.

[oatmealwrites]

Catch Kira, NOT Feelings! Ch. 8

Ch. 7 | Ch. 9 -> coming soon !

Series Masterlist Here | Regular Masterlist Here

Synopsis: You pick up where you and Ryuzaki left off... and things get steamy. Right after a peak moment of climax, you're interrupted by an apologetic Matsuda who leaves behind a very interesting set of documents. The next day on campus, you run into Light's new....girlfriend?!

Tags: Hickies, french kissing, men yearning, ORAL(m receiving, mentions of f receiving), L is a virgin, caught in the act [almost], L is a YEARNER, he's down horrendous for u, some fluff moments, Light is a manipulator, mentions of death, Misa appearance, makeout once again, NSFW, 18+

a/n: at the end!

WC: 9.4k

~~~~~~~~~~

If you had to guess the exact tempo, you would put his heart rate at a speeding 170 bpm as it pulsates beneath your lips. For a man of relatively few words, the sound of his voice fills the room as you bite and suck on the flesh of his throat and grind down on his hips. Gruff sighs and moans spill from his mouth as his head tilts further back to urge you even closer to his neck.

You hollow your cheeks and increase the suction on the sensitive part of skin while your nose tickles the area under the gonial angle of his jaw. One hand is flat on his chest to keep him relatively still while the other is pushing away long strands of dark hair that fall in thick tufts around his nape. While your torsos are relatively stable, L’s hips are twitching and squirming as you sit on his pelvis angled over him.

“Nnghh.. Ahh!-- t-that’s…!”

He bucks his hardening erection up into your fully clothed cunt and furrows his eyebrows; eyes squinted shut as his mind seemingly melts from the new sensations flowing through him. 

After a few more moments, you run your tongue flat over the bruised skin in a silent apology for the abuse and pull back from his neck to admire the work. The radio is still playing idly in the background, but the pants from Ryuzaki’s lips are the real music to your ears.

As quickly as you pull away, his eyes are shooting open and pouring into yours; black pupils dialated to dissolve the gray irises, he searches your face for reasoning of the pause.

“You.. finished?” he asks, hands keeping you firmly planted on top of him as his voice shows obvious signs of disappointment. 

You shrug and smile to yourself, tracing the outline of the blossoming dark purple and red bruise that glows against his pale skin. “Mmmm, I can leave a few more if you want.”

Ryuzaki blinks once and immediately nods before peeling his eyes down to where his hands dig into the plush curve of your hips. Swallowing, he leans his head back down and stretches it back a bit more to open up the entirety of his throat to whatever you have in mind. 

The protrusion of his Adam’s apple bobs once in anticipation as you swing back down and run a flurry of small kisses around the other side of his neck. Lips moving and pecking every square inch, Ryuzaki lets out a mixture of nearly giggles and gasps as you tickle him with the action and shifts in his laid out position.

“Gonna be hard to leave another mark if you keep moving around.” You murmur against his throat before sinking your teeth into a chunk of flesh and sucking on it. 

Fingers dig into your waist from the sudden action and Ryuzaki shudders with his head back as you continue the assault on his neck. “C-Can’t necessarily.. haaa help it– …. This position isn’t optimal for… ngh critical thinking… “

Ah yes, his explanation for the strange sitting positions was to help him optimally think– to cut off circulation to his limbs to prioritize blood flow to the brain [so he claims.]

You run your tongue against the chunk of flesh in your mouth and move to another spot on his throat before grinding down slightly. 

“Ahh-!”

So now that he’s all sprawled out beneath you…that means the blood is finally running to the other parts of his body. The raging hard on in his jeans jerking up into the crotch of your sweatpants is more than enough evidence. 

Pulling your lips from his neck and sitting upright once more, Ryuzaki lays beneath you panting as if he had just run a marathon. Cheeks flushed pink and chest heaving as he attempts to ground himself, he only peels his eyes open once the radio cuts to a run of advertisements. 

“You ok there?” You tease lightly, enjoying the way he seems to melt beneath you. 

L swallows and drags his blown out eyes over the bummy outfit adorning your body as if it were the most sexual arousing pieces of fabric he’s ever seen. Hands that lingered on your waist tug to the kangaroo pouch of your hoodie before pinching the lower hem of the article. 

“It’s my turn, right?”

Your coy smirk falters slightly as Ryuzaki pushes himself up onto his elbows and slowly grinds his boner against your cunt as the angle of the position changes.

You blink slightly, taken aback. “Huh? O-oh..”

He sits up all the way and leans against the armrest to keep himself upright before leaning his torso to essentially hug you. Still sitting on his lap, his face is eye-level with your breasts as he tilts his head up to stare into your eyes; his chin and part of his cheek are essentially squished into your right tit. 

“Yea…you can leave some on me now.”

Sharp canines poke from his lips as Ryuzaki smiles up at you with eyes glazed over before he turns his attention back to the oversized fabric that keeps him from your flesh. Slender fingers tug the hem once more. “So…can I take this off then?”

You suck in a breath and admire the image of him so patiently sitting beneath you; the dull sound of the radio and the food on the table long forgotten as Ryuzaki looks up with his neck littered with a variety of markings you left on him. 

“Of course, L.”

Ryuzaki pauses slightly but swallows it before you can notice the small shift in his demeanor. The fabric of the oversized hoodie bundles together as he pushes it up and you take the folds to pull it over your head completely. 

Your bummy ‘at home outfit’ isn’t risqué by any means, now sitting on his lap with uni sweatpants and a tank top, but the exposure of flesh makes you shiver as he takes it all in. To be fair, it’s the most exposed version of you he’s ever seen.

Dark eyes trail from the band of your sweatpants up to the soft skin of your biceps, to the dip of your collarbone that pokes up from your basic tank top. You squirm slightly in your position, feeling so vulnerable despite the layers of clothing you both still wear; the shift of your hips grinds against his erection once more.

As if snapping back to the task at hand, Ryuzaki sits further upright to shift you lower in his lap to point where his head is back at the same level as yours. Slender hands raise to push a few strands away from your face before tilting his head forward to mold his lips into yours. 

The objective is to mark up your neck, instead he rocks his head in a waving motion to keep his lips attached to yours. Ryuzaki pulls back once to tilt the opposite direction and reconnect your mouths over and over again as if he needed it to live. Nearly every kiss you share feels ‘different’, as if more emotion is being poured into the action from the last. 

He kisses you like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do– as if the stress and worry of the task force doesn’t exist; as if you were simply two twenty-something year olds with nothing else to do but enjoy each other’s presence. 

Ryuzaki pulls back first but keeps his eyes shut as his lips trail to the soft perfumed flesh of your neck. He breathes deeply through his nose, the light air gust making you giggle at the sensation, before he latches onto the same pulse point you had marked on him. 

The sensation is one you haven’t felt in a while, and you can’t help but lean into desire for more. Tangling your hands in his dark hair, sighing when he pinches his teeth around the skin, and rocking your pelvis against his erection with craving. 

“I thought you said we weren’t supposed to move” He teases before trailing his lips to another spot and running his tongue along it. 

You chuckle and let out a slight groan when he begins to suck another large bruise on your jugular. “Ahh– would you rather me stop?”

The moment you pause to dry hump against his crotch, Ryuzaki bites the skin a little harder and groans into it. Reverberations making you shiver, L slides a hand from your waist to the under plush of your thigh to pull you back into the rocking motion on his lap. 

“N-Never said…” he murmurs along your neck, placing far more hickies on you than you got to on him. “Never said to stop…”

Ryuzaki continues biting and twitching his hips up into you until he’s effectively left an exponential amount of bruises against your flesh. From just under your jaw, to the ridges of your collarbone, to the very seam of your neckline above your breasts is covered in bite marks and hickies. 

The raw feeling makes you shudder, pulling his hair slightly to tug his mouth away from its current position on your shoulder. 

“I think you’ve done enough, no?”

Ryuzaki’s hooded eyes barely look into yours, instead he finds more focus on all the other parts of your body that seem to call his name– waiting to be signed with his mouth. 

He pouts his lip when you keep his head a safe few inches away. “Mmmm, but there’s a few more areas not covered yet…”

It’s a strange sensation to see such a renowned detective effectively pouting at being denied biting your shoulder, but there’s bigger issues at hand. 

You run a hand to push his hair away from his face and smile to yourself at the way it messily refalls to cover his eyes, before pushing a hand flat on his chest to lay down flat once more. With a short sigh, you stand on your knees to kneel between his splayed on the couch, watching the way he tilts his head in careful attentiveness to the action.

Ghosting a finger over the swell in his jeans of his throbbing erection, any hesitation you’ve been harboring over the past few days is thrown out the window. You need this.. And with a stressful lifestyle of solving the world’s most difficult cases, you’re more than certain he probably needs this too. 

Pinching the hem of his baggy white crewneck, you look up at L and silently tug it; he blinks once and places his hands on top of yours for a moment before nodding and guiding the fabric up and off. 

The material hits the throw rug of your living room floor in a silent fall as you take your time to admire the open canvas of his torso. He’s pale. Like.. REALLY pale. His skin is fair enough that the blue and purple veins that tangle inside his body can be traced rather easily with your fingertips.

Ryuzaki stares at your face, trying his hardest to read your mind as you drink in the physique he always keeps hidden from the sun and everyone else’s gaze. Years of sitting inside in front of screens and paper documents have left him with a nimble build with a low body fat percentage, but not necessarily boney. 

It’s obvious he’s athletic of sorts, hearing a few stories of his tennis match against Light before you joined the task force, but he’s not sporting muscles like a gym bro. There’s a softness to his belly when he breathes deeply, and touching the faint outline of his abs makes him tense to reveal the beginning of an Adonis Belt. 

L squirms slightly as you silently trace the swell of his pecs before finally trailing down his navel to the very obvious beginning of a happy trail that disappears into his jeans. His erection throbs in ache the moment your fingertips even ghost the copper button of the denim restricting it. 

“Is it… ok for you?” He whispers. 

You blink once and turn back to him with a reassuring smile on your lips. “Oh, yes! Yes… its– you’re perfect.”

Ryuzaki lays as still as a cadaver, unable to move as your praise for his physique renders his mind completely blank for the first time in a long while. Though he doesn’t dislike the feeling of being out of control. If it means his physical senses get to be at 100% performance then he’d gladly lay beneath you whenever you call for it. 

You smile down at him and lean to place a slow kiss to his lips as Ryuzaki regains the ability to move and places his hands gently on your shoulder blades– unsure of exactly where to put them at a time like now. 

Dragging your lips away from his mouth, you graze further south from his neck, leaving nips and kisses to his erect nipples, the upper swell of his pecs, until you reach the soft flesh of his stomach. Hovering and crawling down lower and lower, your lips plant small pecks to the light ridges of a V-line while your chest is flush against his clothed cock. 

“Oh…” a low grumble escapes L’s lips as his head tilts back into the armrest and digs his hands into your hair out of primal instinct of wanting you to go even further. “Ngh..that’s good…feels good..”

You blush at the praise and continue until the pubes that litter his lower navel tickle your nose and your breath is ghosting the most sensitive area of his body. 

It’s hot. Everything is hot. 

The mature resolve of a genius has melted into the pathetically yearning man beneath you. The way your thighs stick together as your arousal soaks through your painties in a pathetic need. How, despite all the stupid pretenses you both use as an excuse to see each other, your bodies both know how genuine the desire is. 

Tracing the belt loop of his jeans, your gaze falls on his erection once more before his hands are tugging your head up and away from his cock. 

“W-Wait.”

Immediately you pause and sit upright, cursing yourself for letting your stupid hormones get in the way and moving too fast for his comfort. 

Rocking back, he winces slightly when you tug your hands away and raise them in apology. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to pressure you at all… we can stop–”

“No–!”  L swallows his rushed answer and sheepishly looks down at his discarded shirt. “I mean… trust me I want to keep going…”

He pauses to make a gesture to his very obvious arousal with his chin before tracing the elastic waistband of your sweatpants absentmindedly– as if not touching you would be the cause of his death. 

“I don’t want this or anything further to happen under the explanation that you’re doing it to ‘show me what you did with your ex’ or ‘because it’s part of the job’.” He states, slowly working out the sentence as it processes in his mind. 

You wet your lips and look at him, all of him, beneath you as he continues. “I know the little stunts we’ve pulled in the past were for protection, and I still stand by their usefulness. But… I don’t think I can lay here and spend time with you and be fine with pretending it’s all part of an act when I think there’s something more going on.”

“I agree.”

It’s the only words you can find in this very sexually tense moment to describe the mutual understanding he’s just put on the table. Is it a proclamation of love and a devoted long term relationship? No. Well.. if it is, then you aren’t really able to gauge that level of commitment without something a bit more clear.

But it’s an acknowledgement that whatever tension you were feeling, he was too. A shared agreement of exclusivity which opens the door for a face-to-face chat of a real label. For now though, it’s enough to feel comfortable moving forward.

Ryuzaki places his hands back on yours and places them idly at his navel once more. “You agree?”

“Yea...” You run a soft graze along his knuckles before looking up at the half naked man on your sofa. “I want this because it’s with you. Not just because of the case, but because I like this– I like us.”

Ryuzaki half undressed with a raging hard on isnt’ the ideal scenario to sit and have a proper conversation on something more official, but this mutual understanding is more than enough to calm both of your anxieties it seems. 

L smiles gently and blinks a few times to himself, no doubt processing not only a new wave of physical simulations he may have never previously felt– but also experiencing the feelings of something more than friends for the time ever in his life. He seems to be taking it well, drinking in the information before swallowing thickly and releasing his grasp on your hands letting you continue taking the lead. 

You let out a small chuckle of air, as the erotic scene is acknowledged by you both, before you lean down to pepper a few more kisses to his torso. The light sighs and twitches that escape the man beneath you are more relaxed and natural as his body loosens up to the pleasure coursing through him. 

Peeking at him one more time, you turn your attention to his jeans and release the button and fly before shimmying them down. Ryuzaki raises his hips on your command to tug the material to his mid thigh before groaning loudly when your hands ghost over the very large saturated stain on the front of his boxers. 

It looks nearly painful. Light gray boxers host a sopping puddle at the peak of the tent as his cock throbs and twitches at being one step closer to freedom. You trace the outline of his swollen tip once, then twice– enjoying the way he squirms in anticipation for more, before moving to grasp the flimsy elastic of the material. 

“Ngh.. t-that’s nice..”

A smile adorns your lips as you trace the length one more time before tugging the fly of the boxers open just an inch to let his cock slip partially through. The change in temperature makes him suck in a shallow breath as you admire the scene in front of you. 

Though not totally freed from the fabric, you can tell he’s decently long with an average weight; his tip is a warm pale blush color [#d1a19b] that shines with pearls of precum dripping from the slit. Smearing the drippings with your thumb down to his frenulum and rubbing slightly, Ryuzaki throws his head back as his hands clench the sofa cushions below. 

“You ok?” You soothe, releasing the slight pinch on his tip to rub a bit more of his own lubrication down the throbbing vein that sits underneath his shaft. 

“Y-Yea, of course.”

If it weren’t for the way his mouth hung partially open and his voice was wavering with sensitivity, it would almost look like Ryuzaki was in pain. His eyes are wired shut and his knuckles are pure white from their grip on the cushion– though the way he profusely leaks and twitches makes you wonder if he’s so hard that it actually does hurt. 

You hum once and remove your hand, to which he immediately cracks an eye open, until he feels you shimmy his boxers down to join his jeans. Now fully freed, you can take a better moment to enjoy the complete sight.

7, maybe 7.5 inches, throb against his navel as a thick and untamed patch of pubic hair covers his base and most of his balls. His cock is thrumming in an eager desire while his balls hang heavy, most likely undrained from days without the time to jack off. 

How often does a guy like him even masturbate? It’s not like he sleeps often either… so when's the last time he could take a moment to himself?

You shake out the meaningless thoughts and can feel your nipples hardening against your bra and your panties becoming uncomfortably sticky. L can feel you’re taking an extra moment, but before he can question himself again, you lean forward and let a long string of saliva drip from your lips and land on his cock. 

Smearing it with his precum, you give Ryuzaki a few testing pumps and gauge his reaction before leaning down to place a few licks to his tip. By the time your lips wrap around him fully and begin to suck, the man is gone. 

“Haaaa oh my– ngh…!”

There’s not a thought in his head as you inch down lower and lower until your nose is tickled by the long strands that litter his pelvis. His hips twitch beneath you, edging up into your mouth until you gag slightly at the pressure of his tip rutting against your throat.

“Ah s-sorry, just ngh feels…. Haaa”

The lack of a coherent thought process is made up for with physical sensitivity as his hands leave the sofa cushions and tangle in your hair. His cock throbs against the flat of your tongue as you take turns between hollowing your cheeks and sucking, and spitting against his length and jacking him off when your jaw begins to ache. 

Ryuzaki’s jaw is slack and open wide as moans shamelessly fall from his lips as his head is tilted over the armrest and hanging idly. It fuels your ego at seeing him unravel so quickly under your control, and a hand leaves your hair to shakily cover his mouth as the sounds increase in volume.

It’s as if you were sucking the soul out of this man– you’re not even sure it’s your best performance given the angle and your own pent up desires, but Ryuzaki squirms and sighs beneath you as if he’s viewing heaven’s gate. 

This is what he’s been missing his whole life. 

At this point his pubes are saturated in a mixture of saliva and precum, essentially matted to the flesh of his base and balls. It’s an erotic mess of moans and bodily fluids as Ryuzaki’s twitches get more and more impatient and his cock throbs within your mouth. Heavy balls pulse in anticipation as your hands move to massage them and your tongue ruts against his frenulum a few more times.

Babbles and incoherent phrases leave his lips in a volume louder than his normal speaking level as saliva dribbles from your lips, down your chin, and drips onto his thighs. 

There’s a mix between a sharp inhale and a choked moan before Ryuzaki’s hips jerk forward and he’s cumming. Hard. 

“Oh my– AH–”

One hand is still tangled in your hair, ensuring his length keeps pouring hot seed down your throat, while the other is between his teeth as he bites down to muffle his own sounds. It’s barely been 3 and a half minutes and L has already come completely undone, panting as if he’s just run a marathon. 

You swallow what you can– it’s obvious he hasn’t cum in the last day or two given the amount of ropes pouring from his cock– and a few drops escape your mouth and trickle down the sides of your lips. The viscosity is a bit thinner than honey and the taste is relatively neutral with a twinge of sweetness to it considering the amount of sugar that must be coursing through his body.

Ryuzaki seems lost in his own world before you cough slightly at the lack of airflow and he immediately removes his hand to allow you to slide off his length. 

“O-Oh sorry! I didn’t… haaaa… didn’t mean to cum so early… would’ve given you a better warning..”

You wipe the few drops from your chin and rock back onto your heels, swallowing the rest of the thick viscosity in your throat and shoot him a reassuring smile.

“No it’s alright… actually kinda fuels my ego a little.”

Ryuzaki nods once but keeps his gaze on the ceiling as he takes several deep breaths. His erection slowly softening, a mixture of cum and saliva dripping from his tip down to his balls, and sweat beads forming on his forehead. 

You rub a reassuring hand on his thigh as L comes down from his high, leaning down to plant a soft kiss to his chest right above his heart, before getting up to grab a glass of water. You take a few gulps before refilling it and padding back to let him rehydrate; he chugs nearly half the contents before looking up to you and tugging your hand.

It’s a silent plea that you answer, tilting at the hips to plant a slow and soft kiss against his lips; the remaining taste of his own seed tingling on his tongue as he molds his mouth against yours. 

“Thank you…” He mumbles quietly. 

You smile and unconsciously clench your thighs together, wondering if reciprocation was in the cards, before sliding back next to him and watching the way he tugs himself back into his boxers. 

“How are you feeling?”

L sits upright, still shimmying his jeans, “Well, I think it goes without saying but–”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Hey! Are you home?”

….

You’re silent. The slight smile on Ryuzaki lips dies immediately as the metal front door to your apartment rattles against the hinges. 

You glance down at L with a worried expression which he returns with a questionable look. “Are you expecting someone..?” He barely whispers.

Before you can answer there’s another set of knocks at the door as whoever is on the other side is obviously getting impatient. Staring down at Ryuzaki for another moment, you slink off the couch and take a few quiet steps over to the kitchen; L stands up and follows suit with a shrug and obvious confusion. 

You pause beside him and usher him to the door which he responds with a head tilt. It’s a semi-silent whisper/telepathic argument for him to check the peephole. He may be half-naked and covered in hickies, but he's the guy, so you usher him forward to the shoe rack by the front door. 

Ryuzaki gets maybe another 4 steps away from the peephole before the metal rings out again with another series of knocks.

“Come on, I know you’re in there! Watari told me L already stopped by to drop a few things off–” the voice rings out. Matsuda’s voice. 

Immediately you both scramble to swap the positions as quickly as possible; sliding on the wooden floorboards in your socks as you rush back to the living room to throw on your hoodie and scoop up the clothing articles of Ryuzaki. 

Erection still deflating in his boxers, you bundle up his crew neck and shove it into his arms as you coerce him into the coat closet next to the entrance. Fluffing your hair and throwing the hood up to cover the sides of your neck, you rush over to the door and swing it open to reveal Matsuda’s hand raised in preparation to knock once more. 

“WOA– Ah!” Matsuda startles back slightly. “Geeez, give me a heart attack while you're at it! What took you so long to answer?”

You awkwardly step back and swing the door open wider to invite him inside, taking note of the small bag in his hand as you try to calm the pounding in your chest. 

“Ohh, just uh.. Took a shower!”

He watches you shut the door and raises an eyebrow at your very dry hair. 

“It was a rinse! Hahah.. Just took a run and rinsed off…”

Matsuda shrugs but doesn’t bother it any further before sliding off his shoes and noticing the obvious other pair of men’s shoes sitting at the entrance. This, he has to comment on. 

“Is there someone else here…? Ryuzaki–”

“Just a spare pair of his!” 

He pauses at the entrance to your kitchen, just briefly passing by the coat closet, completely unaware of the hidden presence of his boss in your apartment. It’s clear Matsuda is a bit confused by your behavior, but he doesn’t have the motivation to pry much further.

“Right, well I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” He shuffles to the kitchen counter and places his messenger bag on the surface before turning back to you with the small paper bag in his hands. “It’s nothing big, I just wanted to apologize.”

You peel your eyes away from their cautious glance at Ryuzaki’s hiding spot and blink once at Matsuda. “Huh? Apologize for what?”

He places the bag in your hands, and peering down you can briefly make out what seems like a small pastry box. “I know that it took a lot of courage to be open with the group about you and L… and I also know that you both probably don’t appreciate that your relationship becomes the but of a lot of jokes– so I wanted to apologize.”

Ah! He’s so sweet you could probably cry. 

Sure, a lot of the off-handed comments are annoying, but that’s all they are at the end of the day. Especially since the remarks are about a relationship that barely fits the definition of an ‘official’ one anyways. 

You smile at Matsuda nonetheless and thank him for the goodies regardless. “Was there anything else that you needed?”

He exhales slightly and shifts his attention back to the messenger bag he usually carries with him, taking a moment of silence to stare at the contents before deciding to turn and face you once more. It doesn’t take a trained detective to catch on to the nerves eating away under his skin.

“Well there is one more thing… but it’s not exactly my position to explain it entirely.”

You raise an eyebrow and reach forward to grab the manila folder in his hand, scanning the documents with a frown. Each page seems to be a list of contacts, addresses, and connections to a variety of police organizations scattered across the globe. 

Matsuda awkwardly rocks on his feet and organizes the rest of his belongings in an eager desire to leave.

“What…. Is all of this?”

You flip through a few more until a heavy feeling forms in your chest. Emergency contact papers. Though they aren’t for Matsuda– instead it’s a variety of the world’s next best detectives and agencies that can be contacted for assistance if a crisis were to happen. 

“It’s from the NPA. Just… a few traditional outlets for help if–” Matsuda looks at the corner of the kitchen and hunches over slightly in a forlorn expression. “If things don’t quite work out under L...”

“Huh?!”

You don’t mean to get mad at him, he’s just the messenger after all, but the tension in the room is palpable. 

“So what does this mean? They don’t trust Ryuzaki or us enough to let us make our own decisions?”

Matsuda winces and rubs a hand against the back of his neck. “I’m not sure to be honest, and you had the same reaction as Aizawa. He thinks the NPA is just trying to save face after the death of the FBI agents– if something goes wrong, they want to have jurisdiction again.”

“They were the ones that cut off task force funding in the first place. And besides, what do they even mean if something goes wron–”

You pause and look back down at the names and a heavy silence falls back into the room. Matsuda slings the bag back over his shoulder and inches forward, unsure if he should give you space or offer a reassuring pat on the back. 

“It’s unlikely to happen, ok? The only way the NPA can weasel back in is if L lets them.”

If it weren’t for the pair of shoes peeking in the corner of your vision, you would’ve completely forgotten that Ryuzaki was still in the coat closet listening to every word. Matsuda holds your gaze in a mutual understanding that ‘L letting them take control over the investigation’ was synonymous with ‘if L were to die’.

It’s an uncomfortable topic, especially considering your position, and you pity the short straw Matsuda drew to be the one to deliver this information. The list of contacts has a variety of names redacted and edited for everyone’s safety, but a location southwest of London catches your eye. The entirety of the name is blacked out with the only information being the town. There's nothing significant about even the lack of phone number, but your attention lingers on it for a moment regardless.

For a fleeting second you almost feel the same way you did the first night you joined the task force; a feeling of uncertainty on who L really is. Sure the man at the hotel introduced himself to you all as him, a mutual trust formed, but who’s to say that’s really ‘him’. Or if L is an idea, a group, or another person and the man in your closet is merely a vessel or placeholder for that. 

Matsuda shifts side to side in an awkward anxiousness and adjusts the straps of his bag. “Well that’s all I’ve got for now. Do you already know where you’re posted for tonight?”

You take a breath and place the folder on your counter before tightening the strings of your hood. “Mmm I’m on PR duty for Misa’s manager– drafting up documents for arrest charges for assumed drug possession. Not like I really know when we’ll be detaining her though…”

“Ah lucky, I’m supposed to be with Ryuzaki reviewing her most recent marketing campaigns for anything that could link her in a better timeline to Light.”

You stifle a laugh and he raises an eyebrow while sliding on his shoes. “Maybe you’ll wind up liking her content.”

He rolls his eyes at you and replies sarcastically. “Ha. Ha. Veeeery funny. Mogi and Aizawa are on call for the transportation of her arrest while I’m stuck in a room with L watching dumb advertisements.” He pauses for a moment. “Ah, that reminds me, I should probably give Ryuzaki a call and let him know I’ll be at our observation spot a bit early.”

You refrain from egging him on even more, knowing full well that the said ‘dreaded activities’ would be taking place with company currently hidden, and push his cellphone back into his chest. “Maybe wait a bit; he messaged me earlier about having to make a few international calls and won’t be available until early evening.”

Matsuda doesn’t question the information and instead heads out the door with a grateful smile. “Thanks for the heads up! Would’ve been awkward if I interrupted something haha.”

You offer a shrug and wave him a ‘goodbye’ before shutting the door and placing a soft knock against the coat closet. 

Ryuzaki slides it open a crack before peering at the front door and then looking up at you expectantly. “Is reviewing her materials that much of a dreaded task? I thought it would’ve been rather relaxing for him.”

His shirt is on backwards given the darkness of the closet but his boxers and jeans are back to their usual low position on his hips. Ryuzaki’s neck is still covered in bruises, but the fact that this night’s meeting will be split positions means you won’t have anyone giving you grievances.

“Mmm well consider this his payment for actually interrupting.”

Ryuzaki scoffs in a partial laugh and swings his crew neck around to face the correct position and pads over to skim the documents that Matsuda delivered. “I don’t take this as hostility, but their sudden interest is inconvenient. This isn’t just a list of emergency contacts in case of my absence, but could essentially serve as a hit list for Light.”

You watch him skim through them and shrug. “I doubt it’s information he doesn’t already know considering he probably has access to all the files his dad has. It’s also not like there’s names or photos listed.” 

Ryuzaki keeps his gaze on the papers a moment longer before his phone pings with a message from Watari for their agreed pick-up time. 

L wanders back over the shoe rack and awkwardly shoves his feet in his own sneakers but doesn’t make an effort to leave. You walk to the edge of the kitchen floor, his baseball hat and sunglass disguise in tow, and hover slightly behind, the list of addresses still fresh in your mind. “You wanna talk about England? I don’t know of any investigation groups near Winchester.”

The man blinks and stands back up, his back against the wall and his shoulder slightly angled away. “At a later time perhaps. Though I was surprised you caught it considering the many  notable agencies listed.”

It’s the answer you expect, a dodge with a small compliment thrown in there to appease your curiosity enough to stop prying. You purse your lips indifferently, already aware you weren’t going to get a straightforward answer. “It just stood out to me is all…. Not like I know what half of those contacts actually are.”

Ryuzaki hums to himself with a faraway look in his eyes and gnaws on the corner of his lips, as if making a mental to-do list and organizing them in order of priority. He waits an extra moment until satisfied and turns his full attention back to you. “I’m sorry to leave suddenly, I was hoping we’d have more time.”

A pink dusts your cheeks and you shrug as casually as you can, as if your panties weren’t plastered to your cunt in arousal from the shared moment only minutes ago. “It’s fine… you can just pay me back next time?”

“Huh? Oh, yes! Yes, I would like to return the sentiment if that’s alright.” He snaps the elastic of your sweatpants against your hips once. 

You laugh at his phrasing and nod in approval as he slightly beams in excitement. He moves to slip on the disguise and take the door handle but pauses to give you another glance; Ryuzaki is silent but peers at you through the corner of his eye like a dog.

Despite him not wanting to say it, the look is written all over his face that he’s clearly waiting for ‘ahem’ something. Shaking your head and sighing lightly, you step down to the genkan and lean in to plant a small kiss to his lips. 

The exhale he releases through his nose tickles your cheeks and when you finally pull back, he chases forward to plant just oneee more peck and spin back around to the door. “Alright, now I’ll be off!”

*****

The evening meeting is split up with varying tasks, members fulfilling a variety of different positions for the upcoming arrest. Matsuda is with Ryuzaki reviewing Misa’s content to ensure the timeline of her and Light match, Mogi and Aizawa are solidifying the transportation method given the threat of apprehending a Second Kira, and Mr. Yagami and Light are at the monthly NPA meeting to give updates on the investigation– of course to also ensure Light’s uninvolvement with Misa’s arrest. 

It’s hard to concentrate, though the task at hand doesn’t require much brain capacity anyways. Filling out legal forms, ensuring police warrants are in line, and filing an array of suspected evidence for when lawyers eventually come calling isn’t the most entertaining job, though it’s relatively straightforward. 

You almost feel guilty everytime your mind wanders back to how little you really know about the man who reciprocates your interest. For every lingering touch, breathless kiss, and moment alone with him, there seems to be an equal force shrouding him in more mystery. 

Part of you doesn’t care at this point, not bothering to get hung up on trivial matters when the connection between you both is so solidified. Who cares if his identity is a mystery that literally only… one[?] person knows the truth of? You enjoy spending time with him and he feels the same… so why should it matter?

You fill out the next line of signatures on paperwork and flip the page, gnawing at your lip and sighing. Of all the times to have what seems like the beginnings of an actual relationship, of course it happens during an investigation for a world-wanted serial killer and with your communicationally void boss. 

Whatever, you can settle down officially later…once you catch Kira….graduate…get a job, and a good income… the list is impossible. Maybe you’re doomed to rot away in your apartment alone for the rest of your days.

The evening is relatively dull, with occasional updates from the members before you finish the task and begin to wind down. To you it doesn’t matter who Ryuzaki is, just having him around, alive, is enough to satisfy. 

*****

Summer classes are a scam. 

Even if you get an additional set of credits that are ‘supposed to put a competitive edge on your resume’, the amount of brain power it requires is not worth it. Most of your friends are enjoying the warm weather on vacation, tanning at the beach, picnicking in parks, and getting some well needed rest after a grueling academic year; you are standing in the cold-ass lobby of the criminology building shivering in a sweatshirt. 

The AC is on waaay too strong for the relatively mild weather outside and you're torn between ditching your desire for a diet cola to get a hot coffee when the automatic doors swing open. Too focused on the string of vending machines, you barely register another person on a relatively desolate summer campus until a hand is waving in the corner of your eye. 

“Sorry! I was wondering if you could help me–”

You blink and turn to face the voice, immediately dropping your hand from its position at tapping the buttons of ‘A6’ for a compromise of an iced coffee container. Long blonde hair is pulled into partial ponytails while intense evening makeup adorns her features despite the time only being half-past 2pm. Her eyes seemingly flick upwards to a space above your head before her voice pauses in surprise with the same shocked expression you both wear. 

Not realizing the two of you indirectly know each other, neither of you make a move until Misa blinks in remembering her request for help in the first place. 

“Ah sorry miss, you just look familiar is all haha! I was wondering if you could help me out?”

Her eyes dip to the tattoo of bruises on your neck with an intense scowl, eyes nearly turning red, before she swallows it and continues. “I’m looking for the criminology building.”

You adjust the floppy collar of the hoodie and sheepishly point to the ground. “Oh, this is the criminology building.”

SHIT. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. This is exactly what you DIDN’T want to happen.

Misa blinks in embarrassment and turns to face the large floor to ceiling windows of the lobby that open to the courtyard of the eastern part of campus. There’s not too many people walking around, especially during summer classes, aside from a few tour groups guiding potential students around. A certain figure…s.. catch your attention though. 

A young man walking casually towards the building with a woman right beside him; the two pause for an extra moment to talk and Misa takes a sharp inhale and begins to sputter an excuse to leave. She barely gets two steps away from your position as the woman who was just speaking with Light waves him goodbye and a man sitting on a nearby bench waves him over instead. A man with terrible posture and tacky looking sunglasses on. 

Ok, was there some sort of meeting you were unaware about? 

“Light?” “Light?”

You say it at the same time and sheepishly smile at each other before Misa runs out of the criminology building and you scurry after her. 

This is bad. REALLY bad. If she’s the Second Kira and gets a glimpse at L’s face… the only thing she’ll need to kill him is a name. 

The drink falls to the retrieval area but you’re already out the door and running across the courtyard to bother mourning the wasted beverage. Misa arrives there a second before you, though you bypass her to step directly in front of Ryuzaki and shimmy off your sweatshirt to throw at him.

Both men, partially stunned at the encounter of both of their girlfriends, exchange a look before glancing at the company. You stand with your back to Light and Misa, focused on trying your best to cover his appearance as quickly as possible. 

“Ah, you left your hoodie at my apartment!! Better take it now or else I’m keeping it!!” 

L lets out a half chuckle but doesn’t protest your attempts at dressing him in your own clothing nonetheless; he lets his head be guided through the hood and tugs the oversized fabric to fit a bit more comfortably. His eyes lighten at your appearance as his gaze traces the bruises that are now on full display from the t-shirt neckline that leaves them exposed. 

“Thank you, I was beginning to wonder if you were holding it for ransom as a reason for me to come over.”

Misa, who was previously gushing over seeing her boyfriend, spins around at your conversation and relaxes slightly. L’s gaze is still locked on you, even when you side step to remain in front of him and away from the other woman’s stare.

“Perhaps it’s time for introductions?” Light offers through grit teeth, a hollow smile and empty eyes crinkle at the forced civility. 

Ryuzaki leans from over your shoulder, his breath tickling your ear, “A wonderful idea Light! I would love to meet your girlfriend.”

A happy pink flushes Misa’s cheeks at the ‘g-word’ and she steps forward with her hand outstretched. “I’m Misa! Light’s girlfriend.”

There’s an awkward tension between everyone else at that phrase, but no one feels like addressing it. L side steps past you, despite your intentions to keep him hidden, and meets her hand. “I’m Ryuzaki, and this is my girlfriend.”

Misa pauses with a confused expression, her eyes once again glancing upward before laughing slightly. She smiles at the reason for the hickies littering your skin not being because of Light while the aforementioned man scowls deeply at L. You take Misa’s hand next and offer your name and brief working relationship with Light and his father while the campus gets more and more crowded. 

A hand now casually holding your waist, Ryuzaki has an uncanny grin plastered on his lips while Light’s brows are furrowed. Before you can shove an elbow in L’s ribs at what his genius plan to get out of this situation is, he tugs you tightly behind himself and protects you instead. 

“You know I’m actually a fan of yours, Miss Amane.”

Light steps forward slightly but Misa cuts him off and beams at him. “Really?!”

“Mhmm, my girlfriend here follows your social media. She showed me your movies and the little cafe spots you recommend.”

Despite the response being for her, Light knows the entire meaning is directed for him– a not-so subtle way of letting him know how close an eye he’s been keeping. If Light wants to stalk your ex-boyfriends, why not dig up dirt on his ‘current ‘relationships’?

Misa expectedly turns to you. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“Oh! I just didn’t want to make a scene…”

A scene that was very much happening right now. 

Despite there not being ample reason for a crowd, a small circle of students and visitors begin crowding around the four of you and whispering. 

“Isn’t that Misa Misa? What’s she doing here?!”

“Woa and with the most popular guy on campus…?”

“And there’s Ryuga… that guy barely shows up to classes at all so what’s he doing?”

“Kyahh~ that emo guy is totally my type!”

“You need better standards…”

“The two smartest guys on campus each have a baddie?! Maybe I should start studying…”

Misa doesn’t seem to mind the crowd, instead she flourishes within it and takes the time to offer selfies and promotional content for her big movie or tv show or whatever magazine she’s going to be appearing in. However, the more she entertains the crowd, the busier it gets.

As the group becomes more and more squished together as the onlookers crowd in closer, the grasp on your waist is replaced with a quick squeeze to your hand. Ryuzaki steps slightly to the side and is immediately lost in the sea of people fawning over Misa, with calls for autographs and photos drowning out your voice. 

You stumble through the crowd slightly, grabbing onto Light’s forearm for balance when you bump into him; there’s a mixture of excitement in his eyes but a frown plastered on his face when his gaze drags over your neck. 

“I should grab Misa and get out of here” he offers with an energetic smile. 

Despite the idea of having peace and quiet sounding more appealing than anything, the change in his tone leaves you nervous. Before you can offer a response, a shriek rings out through the crowd and several people back away when Misa screeches out.

“Hey! Someone just grabbed my ass?!” 

She looks over to Light with a pout, recognizing his far distance from her meant it wasn’t her boyfriend getting frisky, but instead a pervy onlooker. Several men raise their hands in defense, but when the circle around her clears slightly, there’s a very conveniently placed Ryuzaki standing too close for comfort.

Misa stomps the ground and throws her hands onto her hips while he sheepishly smiles and slowly backs up. “Uhh… I’ll get to the bottom of this! I won’t rest until the culprit has been found and dealt with!”

He slinks further backwards and you frown as the crowd squeezes him out to regain their proximity to the celebrity. 

Ok, it’s obvious he has a plan. … right? Not like you’re mad or anything…. 

…. But why the fuck did he need to touch her in the first place anyways??

Before you can let the anger fester, Light tugs you away from the crowd once he sees a very angry management team pushing through people to reign Misa back in. Ryuzaki waits by a bench idly, stepping forward when he sees you and reclaiming the spot beside you as Light scoffs at the business of the campus. 

There’s a bit of a scuffle as Misa’s manager essentially drags her away from the crowd of fans and berrates her about an intense schedule she’s threatening to ruin. Misa doesn’t pout much, she offers a small apology and waves frantically to you all in an eager attempt to offer a future ‘double date’ when she’s not busy. 

The crowd slowly filters out and when Ryuzaki makes an effort to grab your hand, you pinch the flesh on his knuckles and shoot him a sideways glance. A pout forming on his lips, he stays silent and takes your pinky finger between his index and thumb to soothe any tension; Light sighs as he watches her disappear, though there’s a faint smile on his lips.

“Well, sorry about the commotion, everyone. Especially you, Ryuzaki, I know how much you hate crowds.” Light’s voice is void of genuine sincerity. 

Ryuzaki shrugs. “Not at all. Her surprise appearance is certainly interesting, but I’m glad to have met her regardless.”

There’s an unspoken tension between you three, and before Light can open his mouth again, you cut between them. “I’m going back to class. Walk me there, L?”

His gaze lifts from Light and instantly relaxes when you finally take his full hand in your own; fingers intertwining and tugging him back towards the criminology building. You both give a slight wave off to Light, but before you can question Ryuzaki, a cute ringtone pours out from the front pocket of his jeans. 

L shoots you a small smirk and flips it open. “Heellloooo?”

…

You pause. And apparently down the pathway, so has Light; he stands motionless with his phone pressed to his ear. 

“What are you doing, Ryuzaki?”

“Oh wow! I guess in the middle of the chaos she must’ve dropped her phone! That’s rather unfortunate.”

The exaggerated voice from his lips makes you think back to the time he called you, when you were on a lunch ‘date’ with Light. It’s coy and way too energetic to be natural; you drop your hand from his to cover the laugh escaping your lips and Ryuzaki looks up with the same pout as when you refused his hand earlier. 

Light has stopped responding at this point, and L leans into the phone repeating ‘hello?’ and wondering if the service dropped until there’s a tap on his shoulder. 

Pissed off doesn’t begin to describe the emotion dripping off of Light, but Ryuzaki doesn’t seem phased in the slightest. Instead, he shuts the cellphone and slides it into the other man’s hand with a petty smirk. “Ah Light you’re still here! Maybe it would be best to give that back to Misa since you’re in close contact.”

“Right. I’ll do just that.” Each word is spit out and Light doesn’t bother waving goodbye to either one of you before turning west towards the main quad. 

Before you can watch him walk off or look around to see if anyone suspicious might be lingering, Ryuzaki reclaims your hand and tugs you into the lobby of the criminology building once more. He walks over to the large windows and flips the blinds down one by one while you pad over the vending machines to see if your iced coffee might still be sitting at the bottom. 

It’s not. 

Pushing the air out of your lungs, you reach around in your pockets to search for your coin purse until Ryuzaki grabs your arm to steady it. 

“I only did it to grab her phone.”

You don’t need a definition of it to know he’s referring to grabbing Misa’s cellphone. “I know.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but settles on silence instead; he looks at the wall clock and tugs the hood of the sweatshirt off. 

“Wait, what if Misa isn’t the Second Kira? And maybe there’s someone waiting nearby to get a glimpse of you–mpfh”

Soft lips cut you off as L rocks his head against yours and wraps his hands around the curve of your waist. The shut window blinds make the lobby dark as the LEDs overhead haven’t been turned on yet given the early time of day; the irises of his eyes are darker than usual.

You pull away when there’s the sound of commotion and people yelling echoing across the courtyard, but Ryuzaki takes your chin and kisses you again. Everytime you try to break it to speak, he molds his mouth back to yours and slips in his tongue to play with your molars and silence you. 

After the fourth attempt at prying him back, you raise an eyebrow and turn your attention to the windows; his hands are still firmly on your waist to keep you pressed into him. He doesn’t let you move, instead he pivots to shelter your face entirely from view of the windows with his back to them and your head in his chest. 

“Ryuzaki– what’s going on?”

“Do I still need an excuse to kiss you..? I can think of one quickly if you give me a moment.”

Before you can roll your eyes, he tugs you back to his lips and groans slightly when his cock begins to stiffen in his jeans and grind against your pelvis. Parting for air, he takes a hand from your hip to trace the hickies that litter your neck and frowns when one or two of them seem to be already half-faded. When he doesn’t answer, you pinch his bicep and peer up. 

L’s gaze remains on the open spaces of your neck for an extra moment before thinking. “Well… it’s nearly 3pm? It should be nearly finished.”

You pause and look up at the clock with an intense expression. Outside the windows there’s a few more muffled shouts and the sound of police sirens gets louder as a new crowd forms to witness the arrest of Misa Amane. 

a/n time: OMGGG

it's getting SMUTTY YIPPEE

it's gonna get to sum p in v later [probably next chapter or so -> i just had to eassseee into it] ALSO sorry this one took so long pookies, i had some school work but i hope it lived up to ur expectation hehe

I wanna post like a small head canon to go with this series this week as well...

-> hex code: [#d1a19b]

-> ch.9 will most likely be a full blown porn with some plot SORRY [no im not]

-> im still debating on the ending of this series, but i'll most likely break the canon and have L live

likes/reblogs/comments all appreciated!

LUV U POOKIES

-oatmeal <3

taglist: @lechatparle24 @irissfoot @iheteeaifs @automaticpatroltragedy @greenapplesaucepi @thesimpnovao @leiiilaaaa @duckydee-0 @dija200 @cherry-san @hanakokunzz @maribellaaaaa @love-of-less @bakugouswaif @kakamixoxo

[thebellearchives]

𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

~ inumaki toge // fushiguro megumi ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : at night, you and your sorcerer friend take shelter in an inn room to take care of each other’s wounds

���₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff, mentions of blood and injuries, making out, a bit suggestive maybe ?? (i’m still tagging it as fluff)

- gumi’s part: 'it’s complicated' friends to lovers, he tends to your wounds

- toge’s part : toge’s aware of your crush on him, you feel cursed energy through his kisses, onigiri ingredients in japanese, he uses harmless words at the very end, also uses cursed speech on you in the last sentence lol, you tend to his wounds

‧₊˚ a / n : wasn’t intending on posting this but anyways, this shots turned out kinda cute so, would’ve been sad to keep them to myself, also putting them together because both follow the same scenario and have many similarities

the reader feeling toge’s cursed speech was largely inspired by this 🫶🏻

also don’t question the fact that they’re in an inn room instead of the infirmary or smth okay just go with the flow bye 😭

• 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

You and Megumi somehow managed to check in the room without much questioning. Entering an inn late at night looking like you just got beat up was definitely something that would raise the front desk lady’s eyebrows, but you figured you had just gotten lucky.

You closed your eyes and sighed, Megumi’s footsteps came closer. You were sitting in the kitchen counter, knees apart from each other so Megumi could stand in between and attend to your wounds just like you had done before with his. His fingers lifted your chin up so he could see better under the room’s dim light. He pressed an alcohol drenched cotton ball lightly over your left eyebrow, making you jolt.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry” he mumbled “I’m almost done.”

Your eyelids opened slowly, finding him close to you, his dark eyes fixed on your wound. You studied his face in the meantime, long lashes contrasting with his pale clear skin, yet blending with his black irises.

“Can’t believe after all this time of being friends we just had our first mission together.”

“I’m guessing Gojo wasn’t sure of what would work well for us”

“That’s not what I mean, I mean we did great!”

He scoffed in slight amusement.

“Yeah, I knew we would”

“You mean you knew because I kicked your ass the last time we sparred?” a cheeky smile appeared on your face.

“As far as I remember, I was declared the winner” he raised an eyebrow

“Small details, truthfully it was a tie.”

“Right…” Megumi decided to cut the conversation, focusing more on wiping dry blood from your skin.

Finally he exhaled, his hand moved away, examining your face carefully. A soft frown appeared on his face as his eyes fell on your lips.

“Did you cut your lip?”

“Oh? Not that I’m aware of, it doesn’t hurt.”

“It’s bloody.”

Megumi’s fingers on your chin tensed up, sliding the cotton ball over your lip and then discarding it. He tilted your head to the right, blinking and squinting. With the same hand he was holding your jaw, he swiped his thumb over the lower lip.

With widened eyes you stared at him, alarm bells suddenly going off in your head and your irregular breathing hitting his skin, his gaze fixed on the way your soft lip molded under his fingertip. Tangled thoughts raced in your head, trying to figure out the sudden change in the atmosphere and the accelerating pace of your beating heart.

“It’s not wounded” Megumi’s voice was barely audible and you noticed the way his body had just gotten as stiff as yours, probably gaining awareness of the context you were both were surrounded by: him in between your thighs, under the cover of dim lightning and the silence of the night, being the closest to one another you had ever been.

Dark eyes wandered over your mouth, following his thumb as it now slid to the other side. Hesitantly, he moved even closer until his lips hovered over yours. The anticipation that filled the room made sure to cut off both your breathing and his. But then, Megumi closed the distance between your mouths, lashes lowering and hidden feelings bursting out into the open. Megumi’s kiss was soft, and you made sure to reciprocate slowly, easing into the unknown sensation of kissing him.

When the kiss stopped he remained still. Your shaky hands slid up his shirt, fingertips grasping the fabric to keep him in place for as long as the sweet burning sensation sat on your guts. You weren't sure of what came over yourself, maybe it was the curiosity of having him as more than a friend. Maybe it was the thoughts that had constantly whispered at the back of your head how attractive you thought he was, the thoughts you had made sure to ignore and so you never acted on them. Maybe it was the thrill of crumbling his aloof and distant demeanor in between your hands.

Maybe it had been all of those things together, but you slightly and eagerly nudged your nose against his. And so he kissed you again, with a deep sigh of surrender and his hands roaming up your thighs. The sounds of kissing filled the kitchen, your tongue sliding across his tongue, his hungry mouth now fighting against your, your fists pulling from his shirt. His fingers squeezed your skin, a breathy exhale left your throat almost becoming a soft whine.

Megumi’s hands then settled on your hips, until he suddenly stopped, freezing in place and then pulling away from you to search for your eyes. You stared back in a bit of a daze.

“What…” the black haired sorcerer tried to form a coherent sentence, but it seemed like his brain for once wasn’t cooperating.

“I…” you cleared your throat, blinking a couple of times “I don’t know.”

He swallowed, trying to find words once again.

“Listen, I…”

“It’s okay” nervously you tightened your grip on his shirt, now anxious of letting him go “we don’t have to talk about this today or tomorrow. We can just… forget it happened.”

Slowly, Megumi nodded.

“We can just let it be… for tonight.”

“Yeah” you pulled him close again, his body relaxed as he followed your movement and searched for your lips once more.

“Yeah, just for tonight…”

• 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄

Toge’s eyes followed you around as you picked and discarded objects from the first aid kit. At first he was annoyed at how much you had insisted on taking care of the wounds your last fight had inflicted, but at a certain point he had stopped complaining and just… stared. Now, you knew Toge wasn’t one to say much, because he couldn’t, but even when he didn’t say actual normal words he also wasn’t one to shut up. There was always some 'okaka's and 'tuna's and he would gesticulate here and there, he just had to let you know his opinion on absolutely everything. But now… he was absolutely silent.

You walked over to the kitchen counter, where he had sat down begrudgingly and now he was just lazily waiting.

“Bend over a little, will you?” you sighed, wet cotton in your hand.

His lavender eyes stared curiously, but he did as you asked and moved closer so you could reach for his face. There was a bloody scrape right next to his brow, product of a bad landing during the fight with the curse. You held your breath to gain courage and put aside your romantic feelings for the boy, then reached to cup his cheek with your left hand in order to keep him steady and started cleaning the almost dry blood.

He winced, a pitiful expression appeared on your face.

“Sorry” your voice softened “I’ll be finished soon, don’t worry, this is the last one.”

You expected him to say something, he would’ve usually just muttered a 'shake' or something, and yet he didn’t. When you were finally done you sighed once again, lowering your hands and grasping the edge of the counter.

“Alright, that’s it, why aren’t you speaking to me?” Toge raised a brow, as if your question was ridiculous to him “don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean.”

He pressed his lips against each other and then shrugged.

“Are you mad at me?” your brows almost touched, his eyes widened.

“Okaka” he immediately shook his head.

“Oh, so now you’re talking” he snorted, finally letting a small smile shine through “there’s something off, I can tell…”

He bit his lip and shrugged again, this time pointing to his head with his index.

“Thinking?”

“Shake”

“About what?”

His eyes seemed to shine in a peculiar way, trying to hold back a smirk. It was almost as if he had been waiting for you to ask that question for a while. Toge pointed at you, made a small heart with his index and thumb, and then pointed at himself. You blinked about twice, blankly.

“You’re thinking… about you and me?”

He squinted and motioned 'more less', then repeated the previous gesture: you, heart, him.

“You’re thinking…” you heart him. Suddenly your eyes widened, a blush rapidly crept up your face “you’re thinking i like you?”

Toge then grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

“Huh” you exhaled nervously, eyes shying away from him “right when i thought i was the best at understanding you seems like i still don’t get what is going on inside that head of yours.”

He chuckled, his right hand searched for his phone in his pocket and then quickly typed something up in the notes app. You just expectantly watched him as he conveyed his thoughts into written words.

“I’m not thinking you like me, i’m thinking i know you like me”

“Narcissistic much?” you quirked one of your eyebrows and he snorted “what makes you think that?”

“Just the way you look at me, and the way you act around me. Panda had pointed it out before but i’m just now thinking maybe he was right”

“I treat you just like all of my other friends!” you looked up at his eyes again, this time in defiance, but he tilted his head, raising his brows in disbelief “alright then, what have i done with you that i wouldn’t have done with anyone else?”

With a smile, Toge rubbed his cheek and then placed his index right on top of yours.

“Blushing?”

“Shake”

“You’re insinuating that I have romantic feelings for you, of course i’m gonna be embarrassed!”

Rolling his eyes, he nodded. Then, he cupped your left cheek, raising your face towards his and supporting your chin with his ring finger and pinky. You frowned, quickly catching up with the fact that he was holding your face in the same way you had done just moments before.

“… I was just taking care of you…” your whisper worsened your blush.

“always”

He chuckled at your shocked expression, the sound waves of his harmless words making you shiver. It wasn’t everyday that he’d risk speaking normally.

“… well, yes, i care for you”

“a lot” you bit your lip, there was no denying that, so you swallowed your nerves and looked away, he snickered “you’re cute”

Once again the surprise froze you, the power in his voice making your body tremble, what he had said made a sweet nervous feeling flutter around your stomach. He leaned in, you held your breath. Toge placed a lovely kiss on your lips, and you delicately but firmly kissed him back, the sliding of his lips on yours enticing and elating. A soft wave of cursed energy flowed through your mouth, but the moment he slid his tongue on your lower lip and you opened your mouth it rose in intensity. You had to cling from his shirt to keep yourself steady, the moment his marked tongue brushed against yours a sharp wave of electricity ran down your throat, pulling a whimper out from your vocal chords.

He pulled back to look at you and you panicked, embarrassed.

“I’m- oh god i’m so sorry!” your face was burning red at that point “it’s just that- i can feel your cursed energy.”

His eyes widened with surprise and worry, hopping off the counter his hands grabbed your shoulders.

“Takana?!”

“I’m fine! I’m totally fine” cupping his face you tried to comfort him, and it worked, he relaxed, but you pulled him closer again, your noses brushing “it felt… really nice…”

You lips searched for his, Toge smirked in amusement to your reaction, but he complied. So slowly, he kissed you again. The feeling of his energy running trough you seemed to make the blood in your veins rush in bliss, pulling sounds from the depths of your chest. Suddenly his hand slithered to the back of your head and he deepened the kiss, the mark on his tongue making contact with yours and making you gasp and jolt against his body. Toge giggled, but caught you in his arms, resting his back on the counter.

“Come on Toge, won’t you have mercy on me?” you complained, Toge shook his head slowly, and by the way he smiled you knew he was about to pull one of his stunts.

“Be louder” his lips immediately crashed back onto yours.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"dressing up" - hotch x fem!reader

you and aaron get ready for a party at rossi's

cw: mentions of food and alcohol! preestablished relationship! besides that... none? enjoyy

1620 words

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

Another soirée at Rossi’s - red wine flowing liberally from vintage bottles, unless, of course, he’s serving acqua puzza. There will be talk of work, as always, but it will shift once Penelope smacks both palms on the table and demands a change of subject. You’re betting she'll make it thirty minutes, especially after last time, when Spencer rattled on about the particular species of earthworm he saw in a corpse. 

Rossi always demands that everyone dress nicely, too - it’s a dinner party, after all, he often says with that leisurely shrug of his shoulders. That’s why you haul ass after work to your favorite upscale boutique. You need a new dress - you wore your red one to the last two Rossi parties, and though they were roughly a month apart, you still feel guilty of being an outfit repeater. Plus, there’s nothing wrong with buying a new dress, especially if it gives you that New Outfit Self-Confidence. 

Unfortunately, though, your shopping trip after work, plus the crowd on the Metro, means that you’re running dangerously behind by the time you reach home. 

You flurry in like a tornado, kicking off your sensible work flats and haphazardly tossing everything in your hands, with the exception of your shopping bag, onto the couch on your way to the bedroom. You hear your stainless steel water bottle fall off the couch and onto the hardwood with an obnoxious clunk, and grimace as you fly into the bedroom. 

Your boyfriend sits on the cedar hope chest at the end of the bed. He’s bent at the waist, tying his shoes. “I was just about to call you,” he says by way of greeting, looking up and sideways at you as he hunches over to loop the black laces of his loafers. “You’re running a little late, honey.” 

“Thanks, Aaron, that’s super helpful,” you spew sarcastically, setting the boutique bag on the bed. Unceremoniously, you tug your dress pants down over your tummy and your hips, then step out of them, kicking them to the side. Aaron’s on them in an instant, like a cat with one of those laser pointers, scooping them up off the floor and tossing them into the laundry hamper in the corner. 

“We have to be there at seven-thirty,” Aaron reminds you, crossing his arms over his chest. For most people, that’s a sign of displeasure. This is just Aaron’s default stance, though, and you can tell he isn’t annoyed. He’s just anxious about being tardy. 

“Baby, I know,” you snap. You love that he’s always punctual - five minutes early is already ten minutes late, he always says. Generally, you can abide by that rule. The cards are just not in your favor today. 

Aaron’s palms are held up as a white flag. “Sorry,” he says, then looks around the room dumbly. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

You’re sliding the new dress on - luckily, you already had your shapewear on for your work clothes, so changing is no big deal. The dress is a lovely forest green, with golden flowers, embroidered as if they’re growing up from the bottom hem of the skirt. You smooth your hands over the bodice, and finally meet Aaron’s eyes. 

The sunset is leaking in through the blinds, catching his profile and gilding his irises. You could swim in those deep pools for hours, searching for treasure. Your annoyance has dissipated completely after one look at him. “Can you cut the tags off?” you ask him, your voice a low whisper. 

Aaron’s gliding into the en suite, to your vanity, in an instant, a testament to how whipped you have him. He’s searching for your manicure scissors, and his back is turned to you. His suit is black, different from the gray one he wore to work today. This one is just slightly more fitted, and your eyes travel shamelessly over his rear, admiring, with a dropped jaw, just how sculpted it really is, a testament to how whipped he has you. 

You lift your arm when he returns, watching his eyes as he delicately snips the tags off the armpit part of your dress. He’s so careful, like he’s performing brain surgery, and you want to tease him for it. But there’s no time.

When Aaron’s moving back to the en suite to throw the tags away and put your scissors back in their place, you have to force your feet to shuffle over to the closet. You select a semi-comfortable pair of black heels. They don’t perfectly match your dress, but you typically end up taking your shoes off after dinner, anyway. 

Aaron’s watching from the bathroom doorway as you snap on your heels. His ever-observant eyes follow you as you step past him into the bathroom. You run the comb through your hair, and touch up your makeup quickly, carefully applying a winged eyeliner and lipgloss to elevate your look efficiently. Aaron’s eyes meet yours in the mirror, and you look back at him over your shoulder, scrunching your nose playfully.

When you’re done in the bathroom, you float over to your dresser to select a pair of earrings from the jewelry box Aaron got you for your birthday. Gold hoops soon adorn your ears, and you pull a golden chain necklace from the jewelry box, complete with a charm in the middle that looks like a knot. 

You take the necklace over to Aaron, and without saying anything, you stand before him, back turned. He gathers your hair in one hand and sweeps it aside. “Hold this for me,” he murmurs concentratedly, and you reach your hand up to hold your hair out of the way for him. 

The need to rush out the door has suddenly vanished into thin air. 

Aaron’s breath is warm on the back of your neck. You feel goosebumps appear up and down your arms as he brings the necklace around. His fingers are ginormous, so you hear him fumble a little with the tiny clasp, but he finally snaps it in place. His thumb and forefinger trail along the chain to bring the knot charm to the front, so it rests in the center of your collarbone. 

You release your hair, and as it falls, ticklish against the back of your neck, Aaron steps around in front of you. A small smile twitches from his lips and you feel your knees wobble a little beneath you. Why does he have to look at you like that? You’re supposed to be in a hurry. “You look like Christmas,” Aaron says quietly, like maybe he didn’t mean to voice the thought, like maybe it just slipped out. 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” You laugh breathily, feeling your cheeks go pink. 

“It’s a very good thing,” Aaron assures you. His fingers close around your wrist, and he’s tugging you in for a hug. You wind your arms around his neck just as his find your waist. He’s crushing you to him, constricting you in the best way possible. 

“I thought we were in a hurry?” You ask, pressing your glossy lips against the column of his throat a couple of times. Your kisses are viscous because of the lipgloss, and you know you’ll have to wipe it off his neck, but for now, you don’t really care. This is the first moment you’ve had with Aaron since waking up next to him this morning.

You inhale, your nose nudging against his neck. He smells like an idyllic autumn lake - pine, rainfall, leaves. 

Aaron’s grip around you tightens a little more, and you feel his nose nuzzling into your hair. “We can be a couple minutes late.” 

He’s not wearing a tie, you realize, as you pull away from the embrace. Your palms lay flat on his chest, straightening the collar of his white dress shirt beneath the black jacket. The top two buttons are undone, revealing the smallest bit of chest hair. You quirk your brow up when you meet his eye. “No tie?” 

Aaron shakes his head. “No tie,” he confirms. “Going for laid-back, super casual.” 

“That lines up with your personality,” you snicker, licking your thumb and using it to wipe the lipgloss off his neck. 

“Do I look like Magnum, P.I?” He asks as you step back. He straightens his jacket. 

You burst out laughing. “Absolutely not,” you giggle, and Aaron rolls his eyes. “You’re not wearing a Hawaiian shirt, nor do you have a mustache,” you remind him, taking his hand. His fingers trail along your palm before twining with yours. 

“I could grow a mustache,” he proffers, his lips a straight line, the closest thing he does to pouting. 

You lead Aaron out into the living room, shaking your head and laughing. “No, baby, you look like James Bond,” you tell him, letting go of his hand and reaching over the back of the couch to grab your purse. You sling it over your shoulder. 

You catch Aaron looking at himself in the ornamental mirror on the wall and smirk. “I think I like that better than Magnum, P.I,” he muses. 

“It is better than Magnum, P.I,” you shrug, heading for the door. You feel Aaron’s hands on your hips from behind just as you reach for the doorknob. He squeezes your hips and kisses the back of your neck. “Aaron,” you whine a little, just as Aaron guides you to the side for the sole purpose of being able to open the door for you. 

“Come on, honey,” he teases, facing you in the open doorway and tugging your hand. “Rossi’ll be mad if he has to wait on us to serve appetizers.”

Edit: read "dressing down" here

[xxsycamore]

╰┈➤ It’s Halloween night at the Crown caste, and you’re looking for some fun.

- William, Harrison, Liam, Elbert, Alfons, Jude, Ellis, Roger, Victor, Ring, Nica, Darius x f!reader

[ ◄ PART 1 ] - ◉ PART 2 - [ PART 3 ►]

• rating: 🔞 E (MDNI) • tags: Monsterfucking; Human/Monster; Mythical Beings & Creatures; Manipulation; Mildly Dubious Consent; Curse play; Non-Human Genitalia; Anonymous Sex; Masquerades; Creampie; Vaginal Sex; Size Difference; Size Kink; Power Dynamics; Power Imbalance; Power Play; Corruption; Multiple Orgasms; Dom/sub; Fondling; Manhandling; Near Death Experiences; Adrenaline; Flying Sex; Predator/Prey; Tail Sex; Tail Play; Possessive Behavior; Cervix Penetration; Oviposition; Eggpreg; Breeding; Unplanned Pregnancy • wordcount:  3,264 • masterlist

a/n: I got this idea for a story that is similar to Nine Nights, but without any plot or continuity between the different parts whatsoever. Unless, of course, you want to imagine that all of these take place one after another (poor Reader)... Monsterfucking is a new territory for me, so please bear with me. Once again, I tried leaving you with enough hints about who is who and I hope you can have fun guessing them lol

Dubcon warning: The reader seeks out physical intimacy on her own from the very beginning, however, some suitors use their curses' abilities on her without her being aware of it.

NEW: I made a playlist for this fic! It consists of 12 songs, one for each scenario. Enjoy <3

VISIONS OF TEMPTATION 2024/ KINKTOBER DAY 31: Non-human characters/traits

❝ MONSTER VILLAINS' NIGHT. ❞ (PART 2)

V. A fearful Demon King

"You're doing such a good job, little one. Keep rising and falling on me."

Dark shadows enfold the throne upon which the Demon King sits, with you seated on his large cock, steadily fucking yourself on it. His power is great and fearsome, making you dizzy when you try to look into the blurry memory of where you were just a handful of minutes ago or how it all led to this. You just know that if you were given the chance to go back, you'd still choose the same fate.

"Haaah… It's so big! I can't go any faster, my Lord… nghhh…."

From the moment you came to understand that the powerful being has chosen you to service him, you felt far more honored than scared. It all changed when he revealed his monstrous cock to you. With its shiny onyx-colored base and angry red head, mirroring the coloration of the twin horns on top of the Demon King's head, what intimidated you most was the girth of it. You were sure you wouldn't be able to fit something the width of your fist inside you, and you expressed those concerns to your Lord through a series of pathetic sobs, not failing to show him how much you wish you could, of course.

Then he did something unexplainable yet very simple at the same time. He used his clawed hand - the limb elegant despite its inhumanly size and black color - the pointy tip of his blood-red claw tipped your chin upwards so you could meet his demonic gaze. Looking into his crimson irises made all your hesitation go away in a flash, and suddenly you knew it was going to be alright.

Next thing you knew, you were piercing yourself on his length, letting it stretch you open and ruin you for everyone else. Not that it matters, you belong to your Lord now - the way he caves a room for himself inside you, you can only feel that he owns you now, body and mind.

The fluids seeping from his bulbous head acted like a lubricant that made your tight hole accommodate him bit by bit until he was all the way in, and you could only writhe in pleasure and haphazardly stroke your clit as the orgasms overcame you one after the other. The fear of doing something so indecent and selfish without his permission made you snap out of it, but your lord only kept the smirk on his face, encouraging you to keep going.

Even now that you've just let him know that the big intrusion inside you is preventing you from speeding up, he seems to be relaxing back in his throne, contently watching you struggle on your own. Your boldness grows with the need to push yourself over the edge in yet another orgasm, and while doing so, you reach for the black, curved horns on top of his head. You're clearly out of your mind to be doing that, so you search for his gaze that will decide your fate for you.

"I allow it."

A moan rips out of your throat, followed by a dozen blabby and brainless thank-you's. The new leverage works in your favor as you spasm and gush around the red-black appendage inside you, feeling it further stretching your walls on every rise and fall of your hips.

Without any awareness of the passage of time, it seems like you've been lost in this euphoric trance for an eternity before he finally grows bored of your pace. The demonic hand that he previously propped up his chin with is now snaking its way down your little human body, having a delectable taste of your soft parts with a squeeze there and there, before finally settling on your waist. His other hand joins too, and suddenly you have no power over your own movements - he grounds you to his lap easily, making you take his cock all the way in, before starting to move you up and down on his own will.

You feel light in his hold, your brain clearing out of any remaining thoughts that you previously had to keep into, when something still depended on you. The new wave of pleasure you're granted is stronger than anything you've felt, and you can only hear the obscene sounds of sticky fluids leaking from the place you're connected, your body locked in an eternal state of climax.

The last thing you feel is an overwhelming fullness deep in your womb that seems to go on forever, before you're finally settled down on the powerful being's torso, a clawed hand stroking the underside of your chin as your consciousness slips away.

VI. A deceitful Angel

The man dressed all in white has been standing out from the crowd all throughout the night, but he's even more remarkable now up close, you must admit. While he talks to you with his harmonically sweet voice, all you can focus on is the way his skin seems to glow under the scarce light of the eerily decorated hall. He's quite friendly, his golden eyes warm and inviting, as he suggests exploring the stairs to the roof of the castle.

You think nothing of it, sneaking off with him like a pair of juveniles as his laughter rings through the narrow spiral staircase. The night sky becomes a beautiful backdrop to his figure, and soon you're enamored enough of him to confess with a little chuckle that he looks like an angel. He gives you a mysterious smile, putting a slender finger in front of his lips, and in the next second a beautiful pair of wings spread wide on his back.

You're mesmerized by the sight, not believing your eyes - the angel-like stranger seems to be reading your mind at that moment because he evidently wants to show you just how real they are.

Namely, by pulling you by the hand where he stands at the edge of the rooftop, making you fall forward ontop of him, and right off the edge.

Your scream is sincere as you rapidly approach the ground, eyes squeezing shut as you say goodbye to your life, but the inevitable impact never comes. Instead, you're airborne, carried on the wings of the now laughing stranger who gave you the scare of your life. He never struck you as someone so cruel, but just as you're about to conclude he's no angel, you're given an even bigger reason to think that way. His wings suddenly strip their white color, feathers darkening as if covered by tar, until they become completely black.

"Are you enjoying the flight? I'd say the world looks far better from above. But we can make the sight even more enjoyable."

The sweet voice whispers those words close enough to your ear to send shivers, as you have no choice but to cling to him for dear life. His hands are free while yours are locked tightly around his neck, and he puts them to good use, moving them down your body and under the layers of fabric, baring you little by little.

"Ahh-Why-"

"Why not? You said that I'm an angel, didn't you? Maybe I just want to show you what heaven feels like, little bird."

If he's an angel, he's for sure a fallen one; someone like him has surely been punished for committing a despicable sin. Yet you can't help but moan at the way you're manhandled in the air, placed over his hot length, as it penetrates you in one long, slow thrust.

"Ahhhh! Nghh!"

You've never been in such a position, feeling so powerless but also feeling so good, your weight naturally falling on his cock with every flap of his wings. The celestial being cradles you close, giving you yet another illusion that he's being generous while in truth just using you for his own pleasure, a warm and tight sleeve to manipulate up and down in the air as he sees fit. Looking down makes you dizzy, as he practically holds your life in his hands, and you will yourself to concentrate on the growing pleasure that inevitably comes with the ordeal he puts you through, one that is greater than anything you've felt before. If you make it out alive, you'll remember it for the rest of your life.

"Aren't you enjoying this a lot, hmm? Don't you want to soar in the skies with me forever? How delightful will it be if you grew a pair of wings of your own, right here?"

He trails a deft finger across your back, dragging it upwards, right between your shoulder blades. It coincides with the fire inside you engulfing you to the point of no return, and you come undone on his cock, clinging to the body keeping you safe.

"It will hurt a little, but it will be all worth it. Don’t you want it? To help create a beautiful world by my side?"

As the angelic laughter rings in your ears, you feel a gush of liquid shoot inside you, and you begin to wonder why his offer seems so tempting at this very moment.

VII. A ferocious Minotaur

Going out in the garden for some fresh air shouldn't necessarily entail getting lost in the hedge maze, yet here you are.

As you turn yet another corner, fighting off the surprise of discovering a new dead end, you tell yourself that getting out of here can’t be that hard. Luckily the party is not ending any time soon, so maybe no one will notice your absence while you're on your own impromptu adventure. You won't speak of it afterward, that's for sure.

However, there's something entirely different that's been bothering you as you walk through the labyrinth-like walls of greenery, and that's the strong sense of being followed that you've been feeling for some time now. Not like eyes on your back, but rather, like a lingering sense of danger that you're about to run into any second now. You approach the next corner with caution, look behind, and relax enough to make fun of yourself in your head. But that only lowers your guard enough to make you scream with surprise when out of nowhere, a hand reaches for your shoulder.

"Hey, calm down. Are you alright? I've been trying to catch up with you for some time now. You appear to be running in circles. Are you lost?"

The man behind you is of large build, the pair of horns protruding from his brown hair only adding to his already admirable height, even if they're more sprawling at the sides of his head rather than from above - not unlike those of a ram. It's strange; for a moment there you had the feeling he'd been hunting you down towards this place in the center of the maze, but he doesn't seem to be ill-intended.

"W-Well- Not really, I just went out to get some fresh air, and-"

It must be pride that prevents you from accepting his help, or the fact that reaching the spacious center of the maze gives you the illusion of having made it halfway out of it without any help. Either way, the man lets out a short, wry laugh, almost mockingly so.

"I see. You are one of those who linger alone in here, looking for fun."

"T-That's not it! I honestly just meant to-"

The man steps in closer to you, his heavy boots coming to almost touch the tip of your own shoes now, and the difference in your builds is intimidatingly evident at that moment.

"How about this. You will try and make it out of here on your own. But if you fail, if I catch you - I will have my fun with you, there on the spot."

You can't believe yourself when the cold sweat beading at the base of your nape is not enough to stop you from giving it a thought. Maybe you were looking for some fun, maybe it was your frustration with failing to find fun that led you out of the hall to "take a breather" and get rid of the irritating arouse you've been feeling for some time - why hesitate just because you didn't expect to find your ticket to the entertainment here, in the garden?

The animalistic aura of the man and his respectable size gives you just enough push to make this fair, to actually give it your all before you fall into his hands. 

***

Well, you can't say that you didn't put up a fight.

The brown-haired man seems to enjoy pinning you down and restricting you just as much as you enjoy protesting in his strong hold, testing the strength of his toned arms. It's humiliating, feeling the cold cobblestone ground under your hands and knees, but you don't want anything to break the immersion of being his prey.

Though, he gives you enough to feed the fantasy as it is. Until you doubt it's a fantasy anymore. Not when something large and tapered and inhuman prods at your hole.

"W-What-"

"You stay quiet and take it, 'lil lady. That's your punishment for getting caught."

You feel your brain beginning to melt with the intrusion of the tapered head of his girthy cock, and you brace yourself for being this monster's plaything, hearing him groan above you as he bottoms out.

You need to think about making it out of the maze at some point too, but right now you're not very capable of that.

VIII. A possessive Dragonkin

(CW: oviposition, breeding, unplanned pregnancy)

You noticed something being amiss the very second you entered the room. This is his territory, that much is certain - and you let him walk you in here willingly. As his grip around your waist tightens, tongue long since down your throat in a breath-stopping kiss, your half-lidded eyes catch hazy glimpses of the space. The moonlight seeping from the windows helps you make up the contours of piles upon piles of objects of various shapes and colors covering every surface. Most of them shiny, intricate, antique, scattered around without order yet clearly kept with purpose.

At the very center of it all, you're being undressed by restless hands that seemingly want to reveal way more of your skin than is necessary for a simple, short-lived tryst between strangers. You expect his touch to be cold, but every part of you becomes scorching hot under his fingertips. His skin is smooth as it glides against yours, the moon making it glow almost, as he aims to maximize the contact between your bodies.

You want to touch him back, but something long, strong and scaly wraps around your middle, lifting you up with ease and suspending you in the air. Is that his... tail? You kick your feet at the loss of gravity, afraid that he will drop you, but he simply watches you squirm and struggle with his slitted icy-blue eyes.

"Mine."

The sudden pressing of his cock against your drenched entrance distracts you from this strange surge of possessiveness. Your limbs tremble as he bottoms out, the blunt tip of his appendage brushing against your cervix and sending electricity through your writhing form, a mixture of pain and pleasure overwhelms your senses.

With every thrust, it becomes easier, as your body not only becomes more pliable towards his size, but it also begins to crave more. It's like the precome smeared on his tip numbed your cervix, because you suddenly don't mind the feeling of him knocking on it on every thrust.

"Mine."

The whisper is followed by a grunt, and it makes you look at the stranger's face again. He's looking at you, yet it's like he's not seeing you; fixated on something underneath the surface, even his mantra of possessiveness is voiced out solely out of his own necessity to say it and not directed towards you. You reach out a hand and brush it against his pale, smooth cheek. Your fingertips graze blond hair locks and aim higher up, where a pair of pointy horns stand tall on the top of his head. They're translucent and blue in color, as if cut out from pure sapphire, and you're mesmerized by the sight, by all of him. Even if his tail wraps snuggly around you to keep you in place, his pace is rather rough, and one particularly sharp thrust has you grasping at those beautiful horns for support.

You're rewarded with a growl, and the sound of it makes your insides squeeze around the thick cock that continues to mercilessly pound your cunt. In a haze, you barely notice how the very tip of his tail snakes its way towards your clit and begins to stroke it.

"Ahhh!" You throw your head back as pleasure rocks your body, a powerful climax ripping through you. As your mind blanks out, you register your need growing tenfold despite having just orgasmed. In answer, he doesn't as much as slow down his thrusts, giving you exactly what you want.

Suddenly, you begin to feel a strange bulb at the base of his cock that presses more and more into your entrance, as if moving higher. The rational part of your brain, barely functioning, sends worrisome signals, but the part that wants this easily overpowers it. You don't need to understand it. You only need to think of the undiscovered pleasure that awaits you with that delicious stretch. Your walls pulsate helplessly around it, an itch that nothing else would be able to scratch, you're ruined for everything else at that very moment. The bulb slowly moves higher, making its way to your bruised cervix, until it finally presses against it, firmly.

There is a sense of resistance for a second, until finally, something pops inside. Tears of overstimulation gather in the corners of your eyes, and you feel something small and rounded nestling deep inside, in your uterus. It makes you orgasm on the spot, body thrashing around in the strong hold you're being kept in, as your vision turns to white for a mere second.

A gush of liquid follows, and you open your eyes to see the one doing this to you breathing rapidly as he too reaches his orgasm. His seed floods you, seeping into your dilated cervix without anything to hold it back, and drenches the egg resting in your womb. A rush of realization goes to your fucked-out mind and you just know, with every cell on your body, and by some ancient design, that whatever he put inside you has been fertilized successfully in that very moment.

"Mine."

You hear the wicked mantra leave his lips one last time before you pass out, and you briefly have the opportunity to worry about your future. Is he going to keep you here forever? Or maybe your purpose will end with expelling the egg once it finishes its growth, to add another treasure to his collection. You can't help but wonder, when he says "mine", why is it that you don't mind whether he's referring to you or the good incubator that your womb makes?

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @devonares @galaxyprison  @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou  @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @natimiles @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @groovylita @raeraeks @ethereal-blossom @valkyyriia @candied-boys @ludivineikewolf Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[08melancholie]

Lessen your Stress. — Dutch Van der Linde/Micah Bell/Reader

tags: Post-Chapter 6: Beaver Hollow (Red Dead Redemption 2), Smut, Shameless Smut, Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Sex, Spoilers, dont read if you havent finished chapter 6, theres spoilers to it that youll regret, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Anal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Mildly Dubious Consent, Abuse of Authority, Authority Figures, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Spit as Lube, Lube, Come as Lube, precum still counts i hope, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like micah bell

summary: What's one way to relieve the stress of losing your family, friends and entire gang you spent decades building? Dutch assumes it's getting his best friend to fuck his other still-devoted follower with him. It's another power trip of his you will never refuse.

a/n: initially the idea was reader and micah both trying to fight over dutch but then i was like why do we have to fightttt just let them both ruin users guts..... so here we are now. disclaimer: ive literally never written a threesome, i dont know what im doing honestly.... thank you to that one user on here who inspired this.

this is my longest fic up to date... yeah okay lets go touch grass.

words: 5,043 | AO3 LINK

A heap of shouting, spilling of secrets and killing later, the three of you regroup, all alone. Death is haunting you; you almost feel their blood on your hands, for some reason. You can't pinpoint why, but you feel guilty. Might be the fact you're still following Dutch, after he got them all killed.

Dutch might have officially lost his mind, right? You sometimes really wonder how he's made it this far, with such a good gang. Well, until now anyways. It's not until now that you notice a small flip in his head; a switch turning on for the first time. He's sat across from you, only a small fire between yourselves that lights up a small fraction of the area around you; up on a mountain, a small indent into the rocks it's built of serving as a cave of sorts. You're on the other side of the fire, laying down and watching Dutch really think for the first time, in a while. Your head is supported with the satchel you carry around your torso, visibly more uncomfortable than the plush pillows inside your old tent, now left behind. Sat behind you both is none other than Micah; staying forever loyal to the black-haired man lost in his own thoughts, his own pondering whilst his eyes illuminate the fire between your bodies. Micah is quiet; in fact, everyone is. Nobody dares say a word—not you, not Micah, especially not Dutch. Dutch doesn't feel grief, oh no; that isn't what this can be. You'd think that leaving two of your sons to die even after having the choice to save them both would make a man go crazy, but Dutch is clearly too far gone for that.

The fire crackles again, and you can't stand the silence any longer, opening your mouth to speak up. "We'll be fine, Dutch. Don't stress so much."

His head perks up from the fire, the flame-ridden irises of his catch your own. "Fine?" He repeats after your reassurance—not sounding all that reassured. You swallow and nod, always feeling so small under that dark gaze of his. "I would love to have even an ounce of your optimism." He barks, and you sink even lower. Well, it was a good try, if nothing.

He and Micah share a look, and it all goes quiet again. Fire crackles; animals howl in the distance; shrubbery whistles under the small wind blowing through the area. And all is quiet.

It seems as you'll be spending the rest of the night in here, so you decide to rest your exhausted body for today. You toss over and get as comfortably as one can, making an attempt at sleeping off the sour mood and thick tension in the air.

Your slumber only lasts you a few mere hours, both the very early morning sun picking at your eyes and gloved hands on your bare skin breaking you away from the little sleep you managed yourself. You grumble, turning to lay on your back. "Get'cho ass up," Micah, standing over you, takes a step back and moves his hands off you, the leather material slipping away from your waist. You sit up and rub your knuckles into your eyes, taking your satchel from underneath where your head was and standing up. "hoping you enjoyed Colter, darlin'." Oh, Colter; if hell was an icy, snowy blizzard, you'd assume they were talking about that part of West Grizzlies.

"Don't tell me we're going back." You hold off on groaning—only briefly as Micah nods and you can't help yourself, not at all fond of going back there again. "Why West Grizzlies, anyways?" You ask, watching him kick at the burnt-out campfire from last night.

Micah stomps out the ashy, black logs, turning back over to you with a shrug. "Dutch says so." Of course he does.

You hold back on rolling your eyes. "He at least in a better mood than yesterday?" You ask, very much still remembering his bite back to your simple attempt at making the situation you three were currently in a little more bearable. Micah starts walking off while talking to you, and you follow close behind, leaving the makeshift cave.

"Wouldn't put ma' money on it," He responds, voice getting quieter the closer he leads you towards Dutch—smoking a cigar, per the usual—and your three horses. "don't test yer luck, hm?" He gives a low chuckle, and you just sigh. Snow; low temperatures; blizzards; all things you wanted to leave and forget in Colter. But, here you were.

Dutch gives an acknowledging nod to both of you, which you swiftly return. "We ready to go, then?" Micah gives him another nod, and walks up to Baylock. You follow to your own horse, petting it briefly before getting up onto the saddle, mounting up as the two of them soon do the same.

The three of you start the long journey back up towards the mountains; almost feeling that familiar deja-vu-feeling kicking in.

The ride is long and definitely not friendly; the moment your horses get you to the snow, the wind picks up and so does the snow, plowing down on all six of you. It's almost unbearably annoying, having to ride with one hand on your reins and one covering the top of your eyebrows to block out the snow from your vision. It's only a long while later that the three of you get up on the snow-covered mountain of your liking, finding an abandoned area with a cabin, definitely big enough for the three of you, for now.

The three of you hitch your horses safely into a small stable-like area, making sure they wouldn't be cold in their spots. Afterwards, one after another, you enter the cabin and inspect it; it's a medium-sized hut-type room, a few cots still stable enough to sleep in and a kitchen on the other side, most cabinets left open and empty. Mere minutes of searching left you with a few cans of fruit and vegetables, but between you three, hunting will definitely be a must for nourishment. At least theres a run-down fireplace you can use to warm up your shivering bodies. Dutch sends Micah to get firewood, instructing you to work with him and make the place look a bit less messy. And, three of you get to work.

It isn't exactly homey, but it'll do. Can't be picky now, can you? You had a home, and it was Dutch's own fault everything at 'home' went to shit.

It's been about a week since, and you've gotten used to the spot you three settled into, you could even start calling it home. Well, no—nothing will ever replace the home that the gang provided, but that's something you'll have to simply cope with. You're still following Dutch, so really, do you miss them that much? Your trail of thought is broken up by the sound of the creaky cabin door opening, raising the volume of the small blizzard going on outside briefly.

Dutch and Micah enter after another, closing the door of the small cabin and blocking out the sound of wind outside. Your head perks up from the small book you were examining at the sound, and you nod in greeting. "Hey," Your gaze goes back to the book until Dutch clicks his tongue at you.

"Eyes up here."

You don't take even a second to comply, meeting his eyes but occasionally drifting them to Micah. You're slightly confused, they're acting odd. "You need something, Dutch?"

"Stand up."

Every command sends a small shiver to your spine, that much is sure. You place the book down and rise from your seat on the creaky cot, taking a step towards them to stand before the two men. Your compliance and submissiveness always sends one side of Dutch's mouth up slightly. "Got a.. proposition for you. Well... Not exactly, anyways." Micah matches Dutch's dark chuckle after the leader speaks up again, both looking down at you. "Listen now, it's been pretty cold, hasn't it, my dear?" As Dutch speaks to you, your eyes stay glued on him; but you can see Micah taking slow steps away from the leader, and around you. You focus on Dutch again, nodding. "That's what we thought. You see," He then takes a step closer to you, gloved hands clasping together in front of you. "we can keep ourselves warm without wasting so much firewood." At Dutch's words, you can definitely feel Micah so much closer to you, from behind your back. You're starting to feel something bubble in your abdomen; was it nervousness, anxiety? Lust, arousal? You couldn't exactly tell.

"Tell me, my dear," Another two steps; one in front of you, one behind you. You feel like you're being circled by sharks in an ocean, hunters on prey, making you feel small again. "you're a smart girl; you do know what I mean, don't you?" Oh, you do. You know it all too well as you've imagined it one too many times—late at night in your tent, your hands on yourself underneath the blanket, muffling the moans of their names into your palm—so it's not an unfamiliar feeling. Your words seem to only fail you further the more he speaks, so you just nod again. His moustache follows the curve of his lips when that devilish smirk arises again. "Thought so. Now..."

His gloves glide over your shoulders, leather on leather as he stands right in front of you now. "And surely, you wouldn't mind trying this new warm-up with us, would you?"

Like a cat playing with a mouse it's caught, toying with it until it breaks. Except, it's two big cats and one meek little mouse. A hot breath glides down to you, right over your shoulder when Micah draws himself closer, and you feel stuck in your spot between them—even more so when Micah places his gloved hands down to your sides, almost kneading at your waist. Now, how could you ever say no? It's Dutch Van der Linde and Micah Bell. For one, you've been imagining this scenario in the comfort of your tent, late into the many nights that turned very hot, very quickly. But also, do you really have a choice? Your boss; your leader, asking such a vulgar and intimate thing of you? What would he say if you refused? Would he let you refuse? Is this all another power-trip he'll hold over your head?

No time for questions when Micah squeezes your waist to bring you back to reality. "He asked 'ya a question, doll." He purrs—its low and sultry, right next to your ear, accompanied by another knead to your body. You feel almost lightheaded by your current situation. Your hands have been unconsciously balled-up, digging into your trousers in an attempt to ground yourself. "C'mon, answer the man." And all you can manage is a nod, again. A moan would probably leave your mouth if you opened it, which.. would also be an answer. Your nod was really all it took, a silent consent more than enough for Micah's hands to travel to your hips and for Dutch's to find the sides of your neck.

"Good girl, always listening to me like this. I know you wouldn't disobey."

The feeling is indescribable, really—Micah touches you with urgency and carelessness, almost selfishly and greedily; his hands map out the contour of your body, almost as if trying to mould your curves to his liking. Dutch, however, takes it hellishly slow; thumbs brush over the front of your neck while the tips of his other fingers dig into the sides, almost as if trying to coax you to relax into whatever they have planned for you. "Oh, she's good, boss." Whenever Micah speaks, it ends up right next to your ear, and you feel that familiar shiver down your spine. An agreeing chuckle leaves Dutch's mouth, which is very close to your face; your own lips. You're clueless as to what you have to do—should you stay stiff? Touch one of them? Say anything at all to their comments and wandering touches?

Dutch's slow pace slips up when he can't hold himself back from giving himself a taste of yourself, dipping his head down to latch onto your lips. It's nice and quick, and your hands find themselves creeping up his coat and resting on his shoulders, whereas his move under your jacket and place themselves on your ribs and under your chest. Micah is pressed right up to your back now, one hand leaves your hip to move your hair away from your neck, sliding your jacket collar down as he starts to pepper the side of your neck in kisses, occasionally sucking on the skin while pressing his hips to your backside—you can already feel him through both of your clothes. Dutch takes a moment to lick your lip, coaxing you to open your mouth up for him. You comply and your lips part an opening for Dutch's tongue, hands squeezing at his shoulders.

His tongue explores around your mouth with profound efficiency; with experience. It makes the feeling in your abdomen all the more prominent, and you slowly feel a heat rushing to it. Micah isn't any worse either, the mixture of his gentle kisses, rough sucks and sometimes licks up your neck all make you more worked up than you'd ever want to imagine. He's still pressed up to your rear, hands at the very top of your outer thighs, roughly handling you like previously. Then, Dutch starts unbuttoning your jacket. Slowly, each one gets undone, and your jackets pools between yours and Micah's boots, who carefully kicks it aside, just to continue marking up your neck. His stubble and beard occasionally brushes against your sensitive neck, making you let out little sounds into Dutch's mouth. Oh, how they're enjoying this.

Dutch momentarily breaks away from you, leaving you to finally breathe in. "You know, I always liked how you followed me so blindly," Dutch's hands move up and brush over your chest, then cup both of the muscles. "it was so damn hard to not take you right then and there, in camp." You gasp and sigh when his hands start massaging and fondling you. This much foreplay has never gotten you so worked up in your life, and you can definitely feel the dampness between your legs growing with each moment. Then, Micah's hands move. They're getting impatient, seen so by the man behind you who starts groping your rear, breathing oh-so-sweetly down your neck. "I'mma have my fun with'chu, sweet thin'." His hums have goosebumps running up your body. His hands squeeze your ass a final time before moving, sliding down onto your inner thighs. You almost think that he can tell how wet you are, from the low laugh he lets out into your neck.

Impatience really overtakes both of them when they break away and start stripping. Coats, vests, undershirts, trousers; all the many layers you need to survive the coldness of West Grizzlies. Once they're almost bare, left in their underpants, they walk to one of the cots and coax you to follow, taking a seat next to each other and gesturing for you to stand in front of them. "Your turn, my dear." Dutch commands, leaning back slightly.

"Make sure to give us a good show, darlin'." Micah adds, following Dutch and also leaning back. And a good show, they shall receive. You start with your undershirt, slowly and almost teasingly unbuttoning it, exposing yourself inch by inch, moment by moment. "Oh, she's good." Micah purrs to Dutch, looking at you intently and never breaking his eyes away from your body. Dutch gives an agreeing hum, nodding to the other mans' words as you move to your jeans, shrugging your undershirt off while undoing the restraints of your jeans. You slip them off and toss both clothing articles to your jacket, standing in only your garments, now only covering your chest and mound. Their eyes are still so predatory, it's almost killing you. Then, finally, Dutch gestures with his hand for you to move closer, and you step up right in front of them. They part slightly to the side, and Micah pats the space between them on the bed. You understand instantly and comply just as quickly, sitting between them now. "Attagirl... how'd 'ya train 'er to listen so well, boss?"

Neither of them say more, as Micah leans in to get his lips onto yours himself now, kissing you with speed and want; need. Dutch's hands go to your back, fiddling with your bra to get it off of you. Oh, but the best part is Micah's hands; one reaches down between your legs instantly, swiping across your slit over your undergarments. "Oh shit, 'yer this damn wet already?" Both men laugh in sync, dark and low chuckles filling the cabin. His fingers find your clit under the fabric and start rubbing, coaxing you to moan into his mouth which you do. He loves how your meek little gasps and whimpers echo down his throat, and he rubs faster. The other hand of his tangles itself in your hair, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. Dutch finally undoes your bra clasps, working it off of you without disturbing Micah and his workings on you. Your bra is tossed elsewhere, and one of Dutch's hands instantly finds your chest, fondling one while latching his mouth onto the other. Your hands grip one shoulder of theirs each, nails digging into the skin as your moans vibrate into Micahs mouth, hips already twitching into his two fingers working your bundle of nerves perfectly. Micah only breaks himself off your lips for a brief moment, "Can't wait to see this pretty cunt stretch around me." his mouth is back on yours, and the sentence alone has you grinding into his two fingers. Where's your dignity now?

Dutch's lips kiss around your nipple, teeth graze and pull oh-so-perfectly, and you already feel like you're close. They handle you with very different paces and things in mind; Micah is clearly trying to humiliate, get you to cum for him as quick as he can to give his ego a boost. Dutch however, he's now teasing; torturously slow pace on both of your tits, yet it works you up just as well as Micah's finger and mouth. And both are equally as blissful.

"Think she's ready for us?" Micah slows his fingers down and moves away from your lips to Dutch's question.

"Oh, surely, see how she's try'na fuck herself on my fingers? Poor, little thing. Bet she wants more."

"Well," Dutch leans away from your chest, standing to get his undergarments off. It's not long before Micah follows, and you can barely look at them; nude as the days they were born, with two almost equally as big cocks twitching for you, some precum at both their tips. It's a sight. "reckon she knows what she has to do—" He turns from Micah to yourself. "—doesn't she?" You swallow. Call it practice for what's to come, literally.

You shuffle off of the bed, and your knees meet the wood floors. Their grins down at you leave your panties practically leaking your own arousal. Looking between them, unsure where to start, you choose the leader—obviously. You get on-level with his hips, placing your hands on his thighs. "Oh, now don't leave my partner out, my dear." Dutch takes one of your hands by the wrist, guiding it to Micah's lower abdomen. "Show us both some love, baby." You can barely breathe at this point, and your hands might even be trembling slightly. Now, you've given maybe one blowjob/handjob in your life; but both, at the same time? This is overwhelming. Nonetheless, can't disappoint your boss, now can you? You push your thoughts down and slide your hand around Micah's shaft, running your thumb over his precum-covered tip to slicken it slightly, while simultaneously licking a stripe up the underside of Dutch's cock, collecting the leaky substance for a taste. Their faces are full of arousal and pure bliss, they almost make you feel proud. Dutch raises a hand to run through your hair, tugging on it. "We're old, impatient men, my darlin'. Get to it."

You take half of Dutch in your mouth, and start pumping your hand up and down Micah, earning a few praising groans and another tug to your hair, trying to draw you closer. You take Dutch until he hits the back of your mouth, and you barely suppress gagging on him. Don't need to inflate his ego that much. You move and bob your head, saliva slickening Dutch's dick up and painting your lips, some gathering at the corners of your mouth. Your hand works Micah in a slightly faster pace, seeing as it's easier to pump your hand over his shaft than take one in your mouth—especially one Dutch's size. You're used to average men, so this might as well even be nice. Not so much when he'll be stretching you open, but we'll get to that problem later. You continue your demonstrations, getting both of them to groan and even chuckle sometimes, looking down at you. They always looked down at you, you knew so much—but only ever figuratively. Never literally.

It's not long before Dutch grabs your head and just fucks himself into your mouth at his pace, which makes it easier to focus on your hand that's working Micah. You increase the pace of your hand, occasionally teasing the tip to see it twitch before continuing. "Wouldn't be surprised if you was a whore before 'ya joined us, so good at this." Micah's comment should make you mad, but you're definitely more turned on than anything. "Keep working dem pretty fingers around me, 'm close." And you absolutely will.

Dutch, however, doesn't give you a warning like Micah; he suddenly cums down your throat with a groan, and you have to focus on not gagging all over his dick as it empties itself out into your mouth, and you swallow every drop like if it were holy water. Unfortunately, you're not given a breather when he withdraws his hips from your mouth, as Micah pulls your hand away from his cock and brings your closer to it, grasping your jaw and squeezing so that your lips part. "Open." You don't feel like being painted all over with his cum, so you comply instantly, and he jerks himself a few times before spilling into your mouth like Dutch, your hands finding his thighs to brace yourself.

"Damn, she's good." Dutch seats himself back on the cot with a small creak, palming himself—somehow still semi-hard. Micah lets go of your jaw after he's spent, and you can't stop yourself from coughing as you swallow practically every drop, only a few around your mouth still. Micah chuckles down at you before grabbing you by the sides, his hands grasping your waist as he brings you back to your feet. "Come on then, you ain't done yet, or are 'ya, babydoll?" You're guided over to Dutch, turned to face him as both men help position you over him to straddle the leader. Micah's hands are replaced by Dutch's ones, who immediately moves your panties off and guides your folds around his shaft to slicken himself up again. "Still practically dripping. Oh, you poor thing. We won't be selfish no longer, my dear, you shall get your own, too." His tip slides to your entrance, and you have to grasp his shoulders to keep yourself steady, your lips slightly parted in pleasure. Slowly, Dutch's tip presses into you, and you squeak out a moan as you feel that small stretch you were dreading. "I'll go slow, don't wanna split our new toy in half, do we darling?" Well, that's exactly how you're feeling, oddly enough.

You're gasping and moaning as every inch of his disappears into your slick walls, the lewd noises mixing with Dutch's small praise and breathy exhales as you sink down on his cock, feeling it twitch inside you a few times. "Good girl, taking all of me like that." He gives you a moment to adjust before lifting your hips up and slamming right back down, earning a strained moan out of you, nail indents marking his shoulders up as they dig into the flesh, which just makes him laugh. "Love how tight you are, like it's sucking me right in. Your cunt loves me stretching you out, huh." His hips slowly begin to slap against you, filling the cabin with the suggestive noises of skin-on-skin and moans.

As you finally get used to his size, you feel hands on your waist from behind. You almost forgot Micah was there, seeing how quiet he was being. Then, one hand trails down to your rear, and a thumb circles your anus. "Can't leave me out again, can 'ya?" His thumb slowly draws itself into you, and you have to bite down on Dutch's shoulder. Jesus, you did not expect them to try and fuck you at the exact same time, even less from behind. He briefly extracts his thumb to spit at your entrance, circle it and then stick it right back in, trying to loosen your muscles up for his—much fucking bigger, may you add—member. They find a similar pace, Dutch is rutting you down onto his dick while Micah's thumb stretches your other hole out, readying it for his cock which is already leaking in anticipation. You brace yourself when he moves his thumb out and spits again, this time on his own cock to moisten it up again, mixing the saliva with his precum. Then, his tip slaps against your ass a few times, before it slides to your opening. Dutch has slowed his thrusts down to let Micah get in as well, and you haven't stopped biting at his shoulder since you started, almost drooling around it. Even if it's only the tip, as soon as Micah eases it in, you shudder and gasp into Dutch's flesh, biting down harder as your asshole feels every little stretch it's getting from Micah's thick cock. Thankfully, it's sliding in somewhat-easily after a few moments, Dutch's hands squeezing your hips as he shushes you to relax you, and Micah's caressing your backside as he slowly sinks into you.

The first thrust is the worst, obviously. You almost immediately shiver when Micah slowly slips out of you, to the tip, before drawing his hips right against your ass again. Dutch coos into your ear to keep you collected as Micah gets you used to his size, kissing your slightly sweaty spine briefly. "Come on, 'ya can take me, girlie." He sinks his whole length into you, almost as breathless as you. Then, they slowly find a synced pace and fuck into you from both holes as you gasp against Dutch's shoulder and shudder into him. "We'll let'cha cum too, don't worry doll." Micah slides a hand over to your abdomen, and his thumb circles your clit once more. You're on cloud nine—hell, you've never been high, but it's probably similar to this feeling. Your holes are tight around their cocks, all three now audibly gasping and moaning in sync. It's possibly the lewdest trio you've ever heard. With how they're thrusting into you, you're reduced to a goddamn mess; gasping, moaning their names, your cunt and anus tightening and squeezing, your mouth open and tongue slightly sticking out—you look like a dog, almost. Their bitch, that's for sure. From now on, anyways. You don't see how this could ever be a one-time-thing.

You can feel your orgasm building again, and you've honestly been doing pretty well, all things considered. "Can't cum in that pretty cunt, but I can back here." Micah's comment runs goosebumps over your body, and you already dread the feeling of that. His breath brushes over your skin as he kisses up your back again, reaching the nape of your neck and grazing his teeth over it, all while his hips slam into your ass. Dutch is stroking your sides, his cock twitching even more inside you. He's close—Micah's close—you're close—you might all just come at the same time.

That's exactly how it goes down. You're first to hit your orgasm, one that causes you to squeeze around their cocks once more, which is enough for both of them to hit their peaks with you, Micah staying buried deep in your guts while Dutch pulls out and jerks himself dry over your mound and his stomach, gasping for air in sync with you. Micah draws his spent member out of your asshole slowly, some of his cum leaking out and down your thigh. He takes a breather on your back and hugs around your waist, heaving into your spine. Your body relaxes over Dutch's, who can barely hold all three of you up. It takes all three of you a moment of no movement to calm down from your highs, before Micah is first to move off your back and help you off Dutch, slowly seating you next to him. "Well, goddamn, princess. Dutch was right; 'ya didn't disappoint for even a moment." He hums, getting to the nightstand and tossing a rag over your stomach. He shuts the drawer and sits down next to you, cleaning Dutch's spent off of your stomach while you gather your thoughts, before wiping his shaft and tossing it over to Dutch.

"I'm sure you know we aren't leaving you be after that performance, my dear." Dutch adds as he wipes him self clean, and you just wordlessly nod, laying back slightly. "I guessed so." He chuckles, and Micah chimes in with his own breathy laugh, standing to walk over and grab everyone's clothes, giving them out to you and Dutch before starting to get dressed himself.

And you're damn sure you won't want to stop anytime soon either.

Kudos on AO3 appreciated, as always! This fic killed me omg its my longest one up to date and its got me in a chokehold. fuck i wanna be between them so bad.

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — TEEN DAD! GOJO x FEM READER

When Megumi gets injured on a mission, you realize you’re not capable of taking care of a child.

wc — 1.8k

tags — misunderstandings; self doubt; the pitfalls of teenage parenting when you’re all child soldiers; mild angst with a happy ending; happens post sometimes a family is you, teen dad Gojo, and the six year old child he accidentally orphaned, part I of teen dad gojoverse, in which you and Gojo raise Megumi together. 

You shove Megumi into his arms, a bundle of bloody black fabric and dead weight. Gojo doesn’t stumble - he never does - but it’s a close call as he instinctively wraps his arms around whatever you’ve pushed onto him. 

“Teleport! Teleport!” You’re so frantic you’re incoherent. It takes a full minute, a minute you don’t have, before you realize that you can’t just say things. Gojo, as invincible as he is, can’t read your mind. You have to explain what’s going on, but how can you focus when Megumi is bleeding out? His little face is growing paler and paler by the second. 

His hands are so tiny. Why is that the only thing you can focus on? They’re grasping the front of Gojo’s jacket for dear life as he coughs weakly. 

“Teleport him back to HQ! Get Shoko!” 

You resist the urge to shake Gojo by his lapels, slap some sense into him. It would only hurt Megumi. Why won’t he move?

“I can’t!”

“What do you mean you can’t? Go! He’s losing so much blood, you have to go now!” 

You know you’re getting hysterical, but Megumi is dying right in front of you. 

“I can’t teleport! There are conditions-“ 

“He’s going to die!” 

“Stop- I need to think!” 

In the back of your head, you can hear Shoko telling you in that cool and detached tone of hers that you’re hyperventilating. 

Look, she says, you see that? You’re breathing too quickly. You feel lightheaded, right? 

Gojo spreads his jacket out on the ground of the forest. “Help me get him ready. I’m going to sew up the cut.” 

“Let me-“ 

“I’ll do it. I’ve done Getou’s before. You just focus on keeping him breathing.” 

You can do that. 

Hunched over Megumi’s body, Gojo gets to work. He looks so frail, spread on the grass with only Gojo’s jacket beneath him. His eyes are normally dark, but they’re blacker with pain, his pupils swallowing up his irises. 

The first puncture of the needle makes him wail before he slaps his hand over his mouth. You peel it back and make vaguely soothing noises, trying to be comforting. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you murmur, letting him rest his head in your lap.

“You can scream, Megumi. I know it hurts. Oh, honey, I know. I know.” He’s making this face that agonizes you. His nose is all scrunched up as he clenches his jaw. He’s the type of kid that would rather chew up his suffering and swallow it back down then let anyone see it. 

This happened on your watch. 

Sick self hatred rises in your throat. 

Gojo would’ve never let anything happen to Megumi. 

He whimpers quietly and you flinch. Without even thinking of it, you reach for his hand. You force yourself not to tremble. You’re an adult. It’s your responsibility not to scare him like that. 

His eyes are closed as Gojo grimly works the needle through, but there’s a jump in his frantic heartbeat, as tiny as a rabbit’s. You can detect it through the pulsing vein in his wrist, funneling blood to the injury only to waste it on air. 

He’s such a brave kid - your brave little boy. You smooth his sticky wet hair back from his face, damp with sweat. He moans in pain and twists away. Your heart crumples. 

It takes so much for him to be vocal about anything that hurts him. How much pain must he be in?

“Gojo,” you say. 

“I’m trying!” 

You know. Going any faster is likely to have dangerous consequences. This is the only way. How cruel. You have to hurt him to help him, and isn’t that just the story of your parenthood? 

You curl around him, protective as if your body can shield him from his own body working against itself. The more blood he loses, the harder his body fights to keep him alive. 

It’s an infinitely long minute before Gojo proclaims the grim deed finished. Megumi had passed out long beforehand, his death grip on your fingers slackening as the pain pushed him into nothingness. 

He wakes up on the long drive back to campus. Ijichi has never bent so many speeding limits in his life. Normally a careful driver, he shoots furtive looks at the kid staining his back seats red. You can feel his judgment of what kind of parent you are settling over you. 

Shoko must be thinking the same thing as she patches Megumi up in your kitchen. Her reverse cursed technique seals the cut up in seconds flat, though a scar remains, puckering the flesh of his forearm. 

“Just like Utahime,” Gojo tells him, pinching his cheek. “You didn’t cry either, so you’re better than her.” 

“Don’t talk about your seniors like that,” you say absentmindedly, though your mind could not be further from disciplining Gojo for his poor behavior. 

You can’t send Megumi to the Zenins. You know what they’d do to a sweet kid like him. They’d turn him into a monster like his father. You shudder, thinking of the creature from your nightmares who had stolen the life of a sixteen year old girl, and nearly taken Gojo with him. You could never let them do that to Megumi. They probably wouldn’t take care of Tsumiki either, unless to hold her over his head. But just because they aren’t fit caretakers doesn’t mean you are. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

Gojo’s been trying to get your attention for who knows how long. When he sees that he finally has it, he sends Megumi off to bed and jerks his thumb at the door. Wordlessly, you follow him to the porch. It’s dimly lit from a singular overhead bulb without a covering. The two of you stand in a circle of light, the night outside pressing in against the walls of your home. 

“What is it?” He says impatiently. “I fixed everything, didn’t I? Why are you still upset?” 

“It’s not you,” you say. It’s so cliche, but what else is there to say? “It’s my fault.” 

“Don’t,” he says softly. 

You pull your hand back when he tries to take it. There’s a perverse sense of satisfaction in denying both of you what you want. You don’t deserve this. 

He’s silent for a long time. You let the silence stew, determined to outlast him. Quickly, it becomes clear who has the upper hand. You shift from side to side, nervous and tense, while he just waits with his hands shoved in his pockets. When you finally look over, he’s wearing his sunglasses again. His hair glows under the porch light, attracting moths. “Finally felt like playing nice?” 

He’s attractive when he’s mean. You hate that about him, the way the cruel twist of his mouth ties knots into your stomach. It would all be easier if you could hate him, but everything he does only makes you love him more. 

What a twisted little family you’ve built for yourself. 

He sighs. “Stop that. Don’t-“ he waves his hand in your general direction in frustration. “You always do that. It’s not your fault.” 

“He needs a real parent, Gojo. I couldn’t protect him.” 

“I was there too,” he says. “You don’t see me agonizing over my mistakes. It happens.” 

What mistake, you think bitterly. Gojo’s only fault is trusting you with Megumi. He’s the strongest. If it was him, nothing would’ve happened. 

“It wasn’t your mistake. It was mine. If I hadn’t been there, everything would have been fine.” 

“Again?” Gojo says quietly. 

It’s a forceful reminder of how much you sound like Getou right now. He never recovered from what that monster - Megumi’s father - did to him. Even now, your class lives with the scars of that day. Gojo’s face is wistful for a brief moment, deluged by memories. Then it’s gone, wiped from his expression like it had never been there. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you say, wondering if it’s too late to take it back.  

Gojo never falters. He’s unreasonable and childish, but he’s as solid as stone. You’ve watched him shoulder every single burden he’s ever been asked to carry since he was a child, and now he’s taken on one more. You promised Gojo that you would watch his back, regardless of whether he needed you or not. The words you spoke in a fit of anger and self pity bring you regret now. Weakness isn’t just failing to shield Megumi from all the dangers of sorcery that you wish you and Gojo had been protected from. Weakness is running away when it gets hard. 

Megumi’s your baby. 

You’re not going to give him up. 

A step forward has you pressing into Gojo’s space. He doesn’t yield, watching you with those ancient eyes. 

“I know it’ll only get harder, but it has to be us, right? Who else will keep him safe from the Zenins? I won’t leave, Gojo. I promise.” 

His relieved expression contrasts with his smug words. There’s a crooked smile on his face when he says, “I knew you wouldn’t just abandon us. You think Megumi wants to stay with me? You’re the one keeping him here.” 

“I get it,” you smack his arm. “No need for flattery. I’m with you until the end.” 

“I’m not kidding,” he protests. “There’s no universe in which Megumi likes me more than you.” 

How can you stay upset when he looks so proud of himself for finally figuring out the right thing to say to get you to stay? 

“He doesn’t,” you insist. 

Gojo rolls his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Here, I’ll prove it.” 

It’s not uncommon for Gojo to put Megumi to bed. In fact, it’s a chore he fights you for. It’s probably one of his favorite parts of having Megumi around. He likes telling stories, and surprisingly enough, he’s good at it. He gives each character its own voice. More often than not, he ends up as invested in the bedtime story as Megumi is. Tonight, when he closes the book, he doesn’t leave. The soft light of the lamp on the bedside table shines through a crack in the door as Gojo and Megumi talk in hushed whispers. 

“I want my mom,” he says quietly. 

You lean against the door, pressing your head to the wood to try to keep yourself from falling to the ground. You want to try. You want to be there for him. But Megumi needs his mother, not some teenager who can’t even take control of her own life, much less a child’s. You’re all he has, though, and you have to make it work. You wish Mrs. Fushiguro was still alive, even if that means you would’ve never gotten to meet him. 

“Then ask her to come in,” Gojo says. 

Megumi makes a startled noise. You can almost see him burrowing into his blankets. 

“Go on,” Gojo coaxes. “Oh, come on. Don’t be shy now. You really won’t? Fine.” 

He calls to you. “Come in, sweetheart. Don’t keep us waiting.” 

The first thing you see when you open the door is Megumi’s head buried beneath the covers. Gojo’s trying to peel the sheets back. 

“What are you hiding for? I brought you your mom! You should be thanking me!”

“I hate you!” 

“I told you,” Gojo says. “He loves you more than me.”