#but I hope it was a good (delayed) gift!

[valeriefauxnom]

You know, the more I read about Narcissistic Personality Disorder, the more I become curious if the writers were actually using it as a guideline for Emile's character and plot involving him. Yes, yes, it's not particularly unique to create a selfish character nor one that has a comically grandiose perception of themselves, nor do are these traits comprehensive to what NPD is, but let me explain, because BOY the dude is a checklist.

As always, long post.

First, let's break out the good ole DSMV. It may not be perfect, but hey. It's what I've got to work with for Official Sources to escape pop psychology sites. Here's the diagnostic criteria for NPD:

How does Emile stack up?

1: He immediately establishes a sense of identity that he believes he is more great than a Greatwyrm.

2: Much of his actions in the main campaign are born from a desire to live out his dreams of power, fame, and recognition.

3: *Gestures vaguely at 98.4% of what Emile says in Dragalia lost* He often refers to others with derogatory names, especially those that reinforce the status differences between them. Honestly, his vocabulary regarding this is rather impressive. Ingrate, peasant, dreck, peon, clod...

4: Here's where I might start to suspect the writers were doing more than just writing an egotistical character. NPD is defined in part by the excessive need for admiration and reinforcement (more on that later). Emile occasionally voices sentiments like above. See also this quote in his Gala story, in which, despite being in desperate need for money, ultimately personally valued the praise he got from the customer more. He's always been a character desperate for positive response.

5: A bit hard to distinguish from some of the standard entitlement royalty does get, but...yeeaaah. Emile is very much entitled in a way that Leonidas, who also expects absolute obedience of subordinates to his orders, isn't. He seems to believe that everyone automatically, no matter who they are, will immediately acquiesce to his will without question, without having any basis for their subservience. Take how he expects, -despite knowing that nobody recognizes him as Emperor at the moment, -a street artist to give up tools of his trade simply because he demands it.

6: Again, quite a large chunk of his motives in the main campaign is exploitive behavior of others. He lies to make Mercury believe her home is in danger and that he can stop it, then establishes he views a pactbound dragon as a slave to his will. Chelle agrees to lend him her androids, and he immediately absconds with the remote she 'accidentally' left lying out to serve his own needs.

Even smaller things in chapter 4, like his demand for Euden to escort him to the summit, is taking advantage of Euden's sense of justice and fairness to ensure he can undergo Jupiter's trial (which he thinks he will win). Take his scheme to foster love for him once he yoinks the throne while everyone else is gone is manipulative. He creates a 'bandit problem' and then sets up scenarios to swoop in to save the day. People see through this one, but it's still manipulative.

7: *Gestures vaguely at Emile again* Emile is...lacking in empathy or consideration for others' lives. I feel like this is pretty self-explanatory.

8: We can see this even in the comics. His first appearence in them checks off several of the traits we've already discussed and adds in 'assumes others are jealous of him' to the book. But even sticking to 'pure' canon, Emile is long, long established that jealousy of his elder siblings in particular is a driving factor regarding his behavior. There's many examples for this, but I'll keep it short since I already used an excuse to drag out the comic.

9: *Gestures vaguely at Emile yet again* Honestly I'm not even going to add any pictures for this point. I think when even your NPC unit description claims you as 'haughty' it's an established character trait.

That's NINE out of nine traits, when FIVE is the requirement for a potential diagnosis. Key word being potential, because we place more requirements on a diagnosis than just matching some features.

But I'd like to go a bit deeper into it. It's one thing to constantly drag out all the moments of Emile being Emile, but digging into the whys of it all also is compelling to me and this argument.

Here's another small exert of the DSMV:

Though hinted at in chapter 4, we gradually came to know more and more about the deeper side and reasons behind Emile's behavior. The long and short of it was: he's jealous. He knows he's inferior, deep, deep down. And we've one connecting factor for what flipped the switch to the degree of behavior he spirals into in canon: Euden. Emile spells it out early himself.

From what we know of their relationship before canon, Euden seemed to be the adoring sibling eager to learn whatever Emile deigned to teach him and was generally subservient as he was to all his siblings. He, unintentionally, fed Emile's ego at being able to instruct an inferior, feeding that need for affirmation. Thus, when canon rolls around, Emile is gravely wounded (emotionally), by Euden's betrayal of 'stepping outside his place'. He's the pillar that's allowed Emile to raise himself so high, and now that he's moved, Emile falls.

In that same conversation, Emile explicitly cites the 'degradation' Euden is putting him through, and thus enters another long-lasting characteristic of NPD. Enter his rage.

Among all his other motivations for appreciation, Emile cultivated quite a potent desire to harm Euden in particular. Several times he expresses a desire or tries to kill him with his 'own two hands', but I think the Persona crossover event is a goldmine for demonstrating the extent of how enamored he is with thoughts of violence regarding Euden in particular after his 'offense'.

He doesn't just want to kill Euden. He wants to short drop hang him (ie, the non-instantaneous kind that leaves you suffocating, though who knows if they even know the 'break the neck instantly' variety either, to be fair). He wants to break him mentally and quite possibly physically, judging by how quick he is to call in Shadows to beat him. Somehow, I'd speculate just by the sheer pleasure he takes specifically in seeing Euden in despair and misery (he should take notes from Ciella) it'd be a quick jump to actual torture if Euden hadn't immediately been busted out as planned.

Why? Again: though his elder siblings left Emile feeling unappreciated and inferior, Euden is the one to have raised him up before dropping him. It's personal. Therein is his fragile self-esteem, so dependent on the one he viewed as inferior.

All this culminates to a surprisingly replete picture of what NPD actually looks like. It's not just base selfishness or some excess ego, but a incredibly strong and persistent pattern of this kind of behavior, all in fulfillment of a need to acquire adoration. It's the fury that can follow the broken self esteem when that adoration isn't given. It's the vengeful fantasies of harming those who wronged him, the lower empathy for others occasionally paving the way for acts of violence.

Somehow, Emile is still compelling (to myself included), despite him being much of what people loathe in the real world. He's bombastic and dynamic in a way that his more emotionally-composed siblings aren't, and that lends him well to comedy in its own way. It doesn't hurt that he's like. Probably the 2nd most common of the royal fam to pop up, after Euden. He's the Saturday morning cartoon villain who is the lowest on the totem pole of threats and thus safe to have a laugh at until he rolls 20 and starts causing very real danger.

That aside, I threw together this for a more light-hearted thing regarding Emile:

Edit: I remembered Zardin. I think it's kinda funny how Emile is a "better", more complete representation of a narcissist is and does than the supposed actual narcissist himself. I think it's a case of Emile being the 'technical' one while Zardin is a 'literary' one. Aside from being obsessed with his looks just as OG Narcissus was, he's... not really displaying many traits that I can recall from him. Still interesting.

[phantomrose96]

Okay I have a story.

So my birthday is this Sunday (May 26th). My mom ordered some presents for me but one of them (an Etsy purchase) was seemingly stuck in transit and might not make it on time. I tell my mom all good, no worries. She gets in contact with the seller. After a long delay in response they get back with "Right we'll fix it!" It ships, tracking label and everything, good to go! ETA May 22nd (yesterday.)

During the work day I check the tracking and it says it's been delivered in/at mailbox! I double check with my mom "hey, is it mailbox size?" because if not, I don't want it sitting at the front door where anyone walking by could snag it.

She says "it's definitely NOT mailbox size." Okay. I text my neighbors in the building "Anyone seen a package delivered? It's a birthday gift from my mom and I wanna make sure it gets inside!" Success! Floor 2 David (not to be confused with Floor 1 David) had brought it inside. Inform my mom. All good!

I stop by home briefly around 4pm, because yesterday was hot-hot and I just installed my window A/C that morning in the living room, and according to my cat cam my stupid cat hasn't spent a single second in the climate controlled living room and is, instead, voluntarily baking herself elsewhere so I'm like "great" and hop on my bike to go home (10 minute ride) to check on her.

I get in the building door. Patches is crying from the top floor because she heard me. I maneuver my bike in the front hall. The ugliest fucking 6-foot-tall cat tree(?)/totem(?)/statue(?) I've seen in my entire life is just. Standing there.

My first thought is "What the fuck is that." My second thought is "Oh fuck that is for me." I look around at the floor in case there's perhaps anything else that might, in fact, be the gift.

No. Me and Cat Pole.

It's taller than me. I turn it around to face me and its face is painted and this is, in fact, uglier than it looked from the back.

Um.

Patches is crying. So I just haul it up to my level. MAYBE it was supposed to come with twine that I wrap around it (and hide its face from the world) for Patches to scratch. Maybe this is a prank. Maybe this is an inside joke, because when my mom moved into her current house the neighborhood gifted her some ugly-as-hell totem that apparently, by tradition, each newest-comer to the neighborhood is required to have and display in their window so maybe this is a very good riff on that.

Patches rubs against it. She's not afraid of this horrid facsimile of her kind.

Great.

Meanwhile SHE'S fine and the condo is a little toasty but totally liveable so I'm like "Good, cool, you're not baking. You're having a good time. Enjoy your new sister, I guess, I'll see you later."

I go back to work because this is a problem for later me.

After work, after my run, after whatever, I get home and it's like 8:00pm and Patches is so happy to see me and the totem pole is still just. There.

I text my friends like "so a bday gift is here from my mom and it's the Biggest Ugliest cat pole I've seen in my life. Is this a bit? Did my mom go 'that's so ugly haha! send!' Maybe she genuinely found it cute. How do I navigate this." My friend Sarah has the good advice to maybe text my mom neutrally like "Got the cat pole!" and feel the waters whether my mom is like "Isn't it ugly? 😂" or "Hope Patches likes it! 🥰"

My mom goes to bed early so I don't do any of that yet. Problem for tomorrow me.

This morning, Patches wakes me up for breakfast. I get her situated and I'm staring at the fucking Cat Pole again. I wonder if my Mom's been wondering all night what I thought of it.

I take a picture. I text her.

Okay.

I get on call with my mom. I ask for clarity that the ungodly horrid thing is NOT my birthday gift and is in fact a mix-up from the seller who sent me this instead of my actual gift. She's wheezing between words. She thinks I'm being too charitable for the amount of Absolute Fucking Ugly this is. I have to gently talk her out of using the word "monstrosity" while messaging the seller asking what the hell happened here.

I tell her I need to apologize for harming her dignity with Floor 2 David, who thinks this fucking thing is my mom's idea of a great birthday gift for her to-be-28-year-old daughter.

My heart goes out to the poor soul who did actually order this cat totem and is lacking it on this lovely day.

[bittercoldbrew]

I've spent the past couple weeks or so trying to force myself to focus on a couple original works I'm genuinely very excited for, things that I think might be worth sending to a publisher someday, determined not to let myself get too distracted by anything else....

....Which is, of course, to say that I got home from work today, sat down, and spent 5+ hours writing self-indulgent Tron/OC fanfiction instead, without stopping, until a minute ago when I realized I was hungry and looked at my phone and saw it was already bedtime 😐

[holybibly]

𝔗𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔭𝔢𝔱 | Mingi x reader

Pairing: Professor Mingi x cam girl | student reader Summary: You hated Professor Song Mingi wholeheartedly. He was young, successful, too handsome to benefit himself, and сonfident as the devil himself. The living embodiment of all your red flags - 10 out of 10 on the "rich, narcissist, idiot" list. At the same time, Song Mingi was the sexiest, most gorgeous man you'd ever seen. But what will you do when Professor Song discovers your dirty little secret? And that he might be too interested in giving you a private lesson in good manners? Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, University!AU, Sex Work!AU, Non-idol!AU, sugar daddy, student х teacher, forbidden relationships, cam girl. Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI Word count: 10.3 k Warnings: Unprotected sex, stomach bulge, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, face fucking, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, masturbation, humiliation, blow jobs, rough oral, power play, spanking, orgasm delay, sex toys (dildo, sex machine), sex work and more. net: @cultofdionysusnet A|N: This ff has been in my drafts for a very long time and was supposed to be a really sweet "gift" for my bunnies. But for various reasons, it didn't turn out the way I had planned, and I'm personally not entirely happy with what I've written. But I tried too hard, so I'm posting it. I hope that the bunnies will be pleased with the amount of debauchery and lust that I am about to offer you.

Bunnies, Professor Song is waiting for you in the lecture hall.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity

The real life of a student is not always as fun and glamorous as it might seem at first glance. If you think university life is an endless whirlwind of parties and passionate romances, then I'm sorry to disappoint you. Student life is nothing more than tonnes of homework, endless stress, and litres of coffee, which you probably drink on an empty stomach because you've been up all night studying for the next 'ultra-important' lesson, and of course impossibly annoying and boring professors who seem to be just waiting for the moment to ruin your life. So when there was an announcement at the beginning of the new term that your group would have a new French literature professor, you were completely oblivious. Your previous professor had been a boring, retired man with an unhealthy obsession with young female students and cigarettes who always left his classroom reeking of tobacco, so you didn't expect much from another 'amazing' professor. But, God, you were wrong. Professor Song Mingi was maybe, just maybe, the most handsome and attractive man you had ever seen in your life. With his elegant and chiselled features, he could definitely pass for a haute couture model. His body was an art form in itself and the hottest topic of discussion in the entire university, not only among the crowd of blushing girls in love but also among the female faculty members. 

The way his perfectly pressed classic shirts fit his broad-shouldered, muscular body and the tight, expensive fabric of his pants tightened over his thick, juicy thighs, outlining every muscle, could leave no one indifferent, and even you gave in to the temptation of checking his Instagram profile, especially on lonely evenings. In your defence, you weren't the only one who started fondling herself when thinking of Professor Song Mingi. After all, how could you resist when the man was literally a walking list of the categories on Pornhub? But while Professor Song was a wet dream come to life, he was also the biggest jerk you've ever met. And there were more than a few of them. He was 10 out of 10 on your red flag list: arrogant, narcissistic, annoying, and impossibly self-centred. The world seemed to revolve around him as he looked down on everyone from his lofty perch. 

Seriously, every time you thought he couldn't be more handsome and sexy, Mingi would rush out to prove otherwise, driving everyone around him crazy, but in the process, you found even more horrible traits that both excited you and made you hate him with all your heart. 

And it seemed that you weren't the only one to feel hatred and resentment, as Professor Song, for reasons unknown to you, decided to make your life a living hell, infuriating you with his every word and action. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't live up to Mingi's high standards, and you always ended up at the very bottom of his class. In all seriousness, the man treated you as if he had the proverbial stick in his arse 24 hours a day. But God, that arse, if you had the chance, you would have loved to sink your teeth into it. It was juicy and firm, and it just created an irresistible urge to hold it in your palms and pull his body closer as Professor Song fucked you hard into the mattress. All in all, if Mingi had been able to hold his lectures standing with his back to the students all the time, as a good student, you would have wanted a seat in the front row, but hell, that was a pipe dream because Professor Song Mingi found a new way to drive you to hysteria every time. 

It was really fucked up; you were rewriting your report for the third time, and it looked like you were going to keep on doing it for an indefinite amount of time. It didn't matter to Professor Song that everyone who read your report praised what you said and thought or that you spent a lot of time writing it, sacrificing sleep and nerve cells. But it seemed that nothing could live up to Mingi's standards, which no mortal could ever hope to reach—except for himself, of course. 

"Your report lacks depth and understanding of the subject; I'm afraid you weren't paying enough attention while I lectured, Y/N. Did you have more important things to do than listen? Your report is not very good for a student in the third year. I am going to have to ask you to make significant changes; otherwise, you will not be able to pass in my class. Don't let me down this time, or I'll have to take even more serious measures against you."

As if all you ever thought about was being a good girl for him, slobbering all over him, and giving him obedient nods. He can go fuck himself. You hated Song Mingi so much. 

French literature was always the first class of the day on a Friday, and it was absolutely terrible. After listening to Professor Song lecture for two hours in his deep, pornographic voice, you usually spend the rest of the day looking grumpy and depressed. And to top it all off, Mingi decided to wear one of his most stunning black designer classic shirts today, in which he unbuttoned a few buttons so that everyone around him could admire his stunningly smooth skin, which you wanted to lick. You swear that this man is a true spawn of hell, sent to earth to be your tormentor and sexual frustration. Needless to say, as well as he ruining your mood, your panties were hopelessly ruined by the sticky juices that tickled your labia whenever you moved. 

"Good, at least this day is finally over."  You mutter tiredly to yourself as you enter the dormitory that you share with your best friend, who you can't seem to see anywhere at the moment, which is understandable since it's Friday.

Shit, it's Friday; how could you forget it? Damned Professor Song Mingi. You forgot you were supposed to be streaming tonight because you were so caught up in the whole situation. 

You hadn't planned to do this all along. It was just a one-time thing to pay off some debts, but money is a real drug that you get addicted to too quickly. But it wasn't just the money; it was the attention. The huge amount of attention you got from your followers was so sweet and exciting that it was impossible to refuse. So, like most other poor girls, it was no surprise that you got sucked into sex work and webcamming too quickly. It was good money that paid your way through university and your way of life without much thought for the future. You received thousands of comments from people who were desperate to fuck that pretty pink cunt of yours, as they had always told you, or to do many other lewd and horrible things to you. You weren't ashamed to admit that you had always been an attention whore, and their words and praise made you want more. It gave you confidence in your body and gave you immense power over those on the other side of the screen, just because of your well-groomed little cunt.

With an excited smile on your face, you walk to your room and remember the package that was delivered to you this morning. A very special gift that you are hoping will be the highlight of this evening's stream. You give a slight squeak as you see a beautiful black box made of heavy, expensive cardboard sitting in the middle of your bed, with a small envelope on top of it. You pick it up, sit down on the bed, and bite your plump lower lip in anticipation. The envelope looks like it came from one of those books of gothic literature that you love so much. It's as black as the box it came in, with a blood-red wax seal in the middle.

As you carefully remove the seal, revealing the small note inside, your whole body subconsciously warms.

"I hope this will make you think of me, doll." Le Maître 

The white ink on the black matte paper looks too formal, and you're a little disappointed that the note isn't handwritten. But just to be on the safe side, there's no hint as to who the mysterious sender of the parcel might be. After all, for your own safety, you had to accept the parcel under a made-up pseudonym. 

Le Maître. You practically squealed like a schoolgirl when this user first appeared in your paid private chatroom after one of your streams. There were a few other people there, but Le Maître was different; he was regal and bossy to you despite the fact that he paid to jerk off on your body. He was your number one viewer, attending every stream, sending you huge amounts of money, and complimenting and praising you. By now, you can definitely see that you've developed an unhealthy obsession with praise ever since the first time he referred to you as his "good girl."

Just a few days ago, he sent you a text message saying that he wanted to do something special for you—a little gift in celebration of the fact that your account now has over 25,000 subscribers. The gorgeous gift box on your lap is a special gift, and you have an inkling of what's inside the decadent scarlet corrugated paper. You impatiently rifle through the layers of wrapping paper and gasp when you see what you have received—a little sex machine. As you inspect the shiny, erotic pleasure device, you notice a small piece of paper attached to the sturdy, mechanical body of the machine.  "A special gift for my angel, who already has more than 25,000 subscriptions. You are such a sweet girl. Please use it in your next stream so your Maître can see it. P.S. I have a controller, Dolly."

You swallow loudly, feeling a nervous shiver run through your body and heat build in the pit of your stomach; you're sure your pussy is already wet with a strangely arousing anticipation, juices dripping down the quivering folds onto your lace panties. Fuck, he's really going to fuck you, thanks to this sex machine. Your attention will be drawn to the large dildo that is attached to the mechanism. It's thick and long, with lots of veins running down the shaft, mimicking the swollen veins on a real cock. It's cold and textured to the touch, and you can imagine how shiny and smooth it will be when your cum runs down it. You squeeze your thighs together in excitement, looking forward to using it tonight and putting on a show for your audience that they won't forget for a very long time. You put your 'gift' to one side and get out of bed to get ready for your weekly stream. 

"Hello, bunnies! Are you ready for this evening?" You chirp, your voice sweet and luscious with a slightly childish, innocent tone, as you shyly rub the strap of your sheer lace lingerie. "Tonight I'm going to show you something different from my usual show; as you all know, by now I've reached 25,000 followers." You fidget slightly on the bed, twirling a strand of your long hair around your finger. You purse your lips, knowing that the shimmering lip gloss makes your mouth look just fuckable. 

The mini-sex machine is standing on a pouffe out of the camera's view, and you take a deep breath to calm your excitement before you lean closer to the camera so that everyone can see your face and how plump and juicy your tits look in that bra. Luckily, this site doesn't allow screenshots and will quickly ban any user who dares to do so; otherwise, you could be in big trouble. 

"You're all so nice to me; you deserve to enjoy my face. Today,  I'd like to be a little closer to you. Don't I look especially pretty today?" 

One by one, the comments come in, and you giggle at everyone's excitement. 

"Goddamn, you're beautiful." "I want to cum on that pretty face of yours, baby."  "Your face is making me so horny, sweetie." "These lips are made to suck cock." "You're so pretty; are you going to be an obedient kitty for Daddy?"

We all have our own dirty little secret that we carefully hide, and it happened that the secret of the seemingly arrogant and fastidious Professor Song Mingi was that his regular nightly routine involved watching livestreams of pretty webcam girls with small, tight pussies. A man has needs; sue him for that, and being so busy with work and surrounded by a crowd of hormonal, giggling university students every day, he doesn't have the time or energy to find a connection. And Mingi doubted that anyone could satisfy his sexual appetite. He had always been overly demanding in everything he did, and sex was no exception. Mingi wanted to find a perfect little doll who he could fuck and spoil as much as he wanted; he needed a sweet mouth and free access to a tiny pussy, and in return, he would be happy to give the cute doll his black credit card.

One evening, he found one who immediately caught his attention, and not just because of her pretty, juicy tits and doll-like, shiny mouth, while he was browsing through the numerous profiles of various girls. You were so adorable and innocent-looking, but completely slutty. It was an instant match made in heaven for Mingi. Imagine his surprise when he saw you the first day he started working at the university. You were his student, his sweet little student, the girl he had shameless fantasies about all the time. He thought that he should feel disgusted with himself, or at least ashamed, but to be honest, Mingi didn't care; your cunt was pink and tight, and that was enough to make him forget all sense of decency.

Mingi doesn't know how he feels about it, but the way his cock gets hard just at the sight of you means he'll be getting his money's worth and enjoying the show. His classic black shirt is unbuttoned, revealing his embossed abs and golden, luscious skin dripping with sweat. He unzips his trousers and pulls out his big, throbbing cock, which jerks at the sight of you in the slutty lingerie you have bought with his money. He hisses softly, biting his plump lower lip, his eyes fixed on the cleft between your tits. Mingi desperately wants to fuck your breasts.

"Someone very special has sent me a beautiful gift, my darlings, and I am definitely going to make use of it today." Your cheeks are burning from all the lewd comments, but it is only turning you on more and more, making your pussy even wetter and more needy.

You sit down on the bed, bend down until you can't see the chatter, and pull the ottoman between your legs to the edge of the bed. The sound of the incoming tips becomes loud and constant as soon as the erotic device appears in the frame.

Mingi slowly strokes his thick, veiny member with his hand, clutching the small sex machine controller in his other large hand. He can't help but wonder what it would be like to be the one to destroy your pretty pussy with his cock. His dark eyes bore into yours as he bit down hard on his lower lip and used the pad of his thumb to circle the already-leaking red head of his cock. If only he were able to fuck you right now.

You take a bottle of vanilla lube and smear it on the dildo, moaning loudly as you run your hand from the base to the head several times, tracing the ridges with your fingers to simulate veins, imagining that this is the dick of a certain professor. God, you hate and adore Professor Song at the same time; he is the star of all your most depraved and vulgar fantasies, which is why you always cum so hard and profusely. Fortunately, when you collapse during your orgasm, you have enough control over your mouth to keep from moaning his name.

With your other hand, you pull your pretty panties aside and run your fingers through your wet folds, spreading them slightly and showing off your wetness.

"Fuck, your pussy is so nice." "You've played with yourself before; you're already so wet." "Give me a lick of your pussy, angel."

The comments go on and on, as do the messages about the tips while you are gently massaging your pussy. You close your eyes, bite your lip and let out a soft moan as the pad of your middle finger makes contact with your sensitive clit.

"Damn it, I wish I could have your fingers playing with my pussy right now," you whine. Your free hand pulls down your bra straps, exposing your breasts to the camera, your nipples hardening with growing pleasure. You take the nipple between your fingers and gently twist and pull at it. Your pussy is leaking, the transparent, viscous mucus enveloping your fingers, making them shiny and smooth, and running down your milky thighs, leaving a wet, cold trail.

You imagine Professor Song's long fingers penetrating you, stretching your tight hole, and preparing you for the insertion of his dick into your pussy. Mingi has breathtakingly beautiful hands—wide palms, thick, long fingers, always adorned with rings and bracelets. Fuck, just to feel those rings inside you, pressing against the silky hot walls of your pussy, you would do anything. You circle your fingers around the wet, quivering edge of your hole before you slip two fingers inside, your soft walls tightening around them in an instant. Your other hand stops playing with your nipples and reaches out for the toy that is about to fuck you to death.

Your breathing becomes uneven, your chest rising and falling with your moans and gasps. Your fingers run over the silky walls of your pussy a couple of times before you start to fuck yourself to death at a fast and furious pace. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you stick out your tongue and let it drip onto your naked tits.

You know the effect you have on your audience; they love seeing someone so sweet and angelic looking like a slutty whore, and to get more praise and tips, you pull your fingers out of your cunt and slap your pussy with them. The loud signal of the incoming tip is echoed by the wet, disgusting sound of your hand touching your skin.

"Oh daddy, I want your cock so bad; my pussy is throbbing for you," you say. You hold your fingers up to the camera to show how wet they are with your slick. "I'm such a sweet Daddy; I want you to eat me up. I promise I'll come on your tongue like a good girl." You put your fingers in your mouth; you lick them, suck them, and slurp around them. The moans you make sound more like whimpering than something soft and melodic.

On the other side of the screen, Mingi is moaning in a guttural way as he leans back in the big leather chair in his home office, squeezing and massaging his balls as he enjoys the wet slurping sounds that you are making. His cock is pressed against his hard belly, the viscous pre-cum dripping from the head of it and flowing between the reliefs of his abs. His eyes roll back in his head as he imagines fucking your cunt with his nimble fingers, stretching your tight little hole in preparation for his hard fucking. You will be moaning loudly and writhing as your juices flood his hand and run down his sinewy forearm.

You get on your knees on the bed and adjust the toy so that it's right in front of your dripping hole, holding your knickers so that they don't block the view of your pussy. You are already looking so messed up. A long string of mucus is coming out of your hole, straight onto the toy, and the strokes are coming in at a crazy rate. You look straight into the camera with your big innocent eyes; your lips are pouting sweetly. Mingi hisses at this, grabs his dick, and squeezes it several times. The fingers of his other hand are flicking the switch on the controller of the sex machine.

"Please, sir, I've been such a good girl for you. Are you going to fuck me now?" You are licking your lips with the tip of your tongue, and you are lowering your pussy down onto the artificial dick. The silicone is cold and smooth, and the contrast in temperature between it and your hot pussy makes you moan loudly and for a long time.

Mingi growls, the desire coursing through him as he hears the respectful title that falls from your plump lips, in the same way that you address him as "Sir" in class when you turn up for his lecture, and it drives him mad. He turns the dial, and the car comes to life and begins to move. Your eyes lose their focus, and your mouth falls open as the toy begins to move inside of you. Your fingers spread your labia, and you show the audience how the dildo is slowly stretching your tight little hole. The size of the toy is huge, despite the artificial penis being cold and lifeless, but that doesn't change the fact that it is tearing you apart. Your legs tremble as you try to maintain a stable position on the bed. Your toes curl as you begin to play with your swollen, sensitive clit, stimulating yourself further and causing more of the sticky, slippery fluid to gush out of you.

Mingi watched intently through the screen as you writhed and moaned; the toy was finally buried completely inside you, and he could see its impressive size causing your belly to bulge. Damn it! He can bet his bottom dollar that the silicone head of the dick is in direct contact with your cervix. When he sees how greedily your cunt swallows the toy, his predatory dark eyes flash, and he swallows noisily. You can take his cock like a good girl, and he'll see to it that it happens soon. Even though this toy is much bigger than any you've fucked your cunt with in previous streams, Mingi doesn't give you time to get used to its size. But he knows that in reality, you are an absolute slut who lives for the cock and that you can easily take anything that is given to you.

The sex machine picks up speed, and you scream loudly as you feel the fake veins on the dildo drag along the walls of your body with every mechanical movement—your hands cupping and massaging your breasts, your fingers pinching your swollen nipples. The pleasure coursing through your veins, your moans growing louder by the minute, and your head falling back. Your thoughts turn to Professor Song, of course.

God, that man—the way your body has reacted to him has been completely abnormal. Professor Song Mingi is an absolute asshole, and all he does is bully you and ruin your grades. But fuck, you wanted it so much—to destroy your pussy with his dick. You hate every part of his gorgeous appearance—that stupid long hair, a weird shade of orange that looks damn good on him, those sharp fox eyes that always look at you with judgement. There's such disgust and contempt in his eyes; it's like he's saying, "You're a worthless whore," and God, you really want him to address you like that, especially in that porn voice that makes your pussy leak.

Under your fingers, what will his hair feel like? Will it be as soft to the touch as it is to the eye? What will his eyes be like? Will they be filled with unbridled hunger as his long, slick tongue flicks across your clit? Will his deep voice vibrate against your skin as he moans softly and tastes you in his mouth? Will his big, rough hands be gripping your hips, digging their fingers into the soft flesh until you're bruised and scratched, holding you still as he buries his face in your cunt as if he couldn't live without it for a single day? All these vivid erotic images flash through your brain, the constant beeping of the donors just background noise as you imagine your professor's deep, velvety voice commanding you to cum.

"Wish you could fuck me now. Oh fuck! Please, sir, fuck your pretty little doll properly." You moan loudly as the speed of the sex machine increases, all the words blending together. The whirring sound of the machine synchronises with the rapid beating of your heart as the silicone cock thrusts into you, lewd squelching fills the room, and your moans and cries become longer and more pitiful, like a cat in heat, as your orgasm begins to build rapidly.

"Oh sir, I'm thinking about the way your dick is sliding between my legs. Is it as thick and as big as this toy? Are you going to feed your doll with your cum?"

There are few things in this world that can make Professor Song Mingi lose his balance, but the sight of his cute little student fucking her dripping, plump cunt with the toy he has given her is definitely the one thing that makes his jaw drop. You are fucking beautiful, a real doll that Mingi would like to sit on a velvet cushion in his house and admire like a work of art. He knows you're about to come—your cheeks are flushed, your lips are parted in a perfect orgasmic "oh,"  your trembling little hand reaches for your clit to rub the throbbing bundle of nerves and bring you to the desired climax, and your eyes are so closed you can hardly see.

Mingi's hand glides a little faster over his dick; it's slippery and shiny with the sperm that leaks out of it. At the same pace as you rub your aching clit, Mingi makes sharp, quick circles with his palm around his cock.

"Fuck!" Mingi growls as he grips the arm of the chair and pushes his hips into his hand, the massive bracelets around his wrist clanking as his hand comes down hard on his cock. As the sex machine fucks you hard and fast at top speed, the controller is forgotten on the table next to his laptop. Your piercing moans are music to his ears, and the way your thighs subtly tremble shows the immense pleasure he is indirectly giving you. Your head is thrown back, exposing your neck, and your hips roll on the toy, the juices from your vagina running down your ass and soaking the sheets beneath you, your juicy, plump tits bouncing with the movement of the sex machine.

"Sir, Daddy, please! Can I cum for you? Please let me come for you! I've been such a good girl for you!" You are shaking all over, your orgasm is growing stronger with each passing second, and you know that it is going to be amazing. The palm of your hand is slapping your pussy again, and the sounds of tipping over are coming with renewed force. What fucking perverts!

When he realises the effect he is having on you without even touching you, a tingle runs down Mingi's spine. He has complete control over your orgasm, and you will do whatever he wants without him interfering in your real life.

"Come for me, my doll." His voice is dark and deep, despite the force with which he fucks his hand, the leather chair creaking from the powerful thrusts of his thick, meaty thighs. As if you can hear him, you pinch your clit sharply and squeal deafeningly, your body shaking in small convulsions as you cum on a toy you imagine is Professor Song's dick. The walls of your pussy contract as you try to hold the fake cock inside you as you ride out your orgasm.

Mingi cum right after you, moaning gutturally, his eyes rolling back in his head as streams of cum spray onto his thighs and abs, his mind clouded by the orgasm, and he completely forgets that he hasn't turned off the toy that continues to mercilessly stuff your cunt. His attention is drawn back to you when he hears you squealing pitifully, the tears rolling down your face and smearing your make-up, and Mingi finds himself thinking that he would like to see the same look on your face when his dick is deep down in your throat.

"Oh my God, s-sir, turn it off! Please, I can't... Oh, bloody hell! Sir, I beg you..." You scream, the tears streaming freely down your face as the sex machine continues to fill your pussy with cock like there is no tomorrow, your hands gripping the sheets as the sensory overload washes over your body like a tidal wave.

Mingi looks at you with hunger and animal lust as he watches the toy abuse your used, dripping cunt. Of course, he could turn it off if he wanted to, but he doesn't because he knows that you could just lie back on the bed and put an end to your supposed agony, but you don't want to.

He gives you a devilish grin and licks his lips as he watches the fat tears roll down your flushed cheeks as you beg him to make it stop. Your whole body glistens with a subtle sheen of sweat, and as Mingi has watched your body countless times, he knows every reaction of yours—you will cum for him; he is sure of it.

"Oh god, damn, damn! I'm going to cum again, Daddy." You let out another loud squeal, your back arching as you come for the second time that night, and this time a clear stream of liquid shoots out of your pussy, soaking the sheets even more. The tipping sounds are louder than they were before, and if there was an audience in your room, they would definitely enjoy watching you squirt over and over again. Damn, you really put on a show for them that they won't forget in a hurry.

Mingi smiles with satisfaction and strokes his cock once more, this time prolonging his pleasure with lazy strokes as he watches you whimpering and twitching with the overwhelming pleasure of your orgasm. He is kind enough to put an end to your torment by picking up the controller unit from the table and turning off the sex machine. The loud mechanical whirring ceases as the toy stops fucking you. You slowly rise from your seat, the thick dildo sliding out of your pussy—glossy and wet with your essence. You whimper quietly, still too sensitive, your chest heaving with heavy, ragged breaths. The next thing you do is make Mingi sink teeth into his lower lip until it starts to bleed.

"Let me clean you, Daddy; you have been so good to me today. My cunt feels so warm and full." Your pretty, plump lips wrap around the fake cock's head, smacking sweetly before shoving the larger half of the toy into your mouth, sucking and licking with your tongue like a real cock. After tasting the juices running down the length of the silicone, you close your eyes and moan.

Your brain forms images of how you would do this to Mingi, choking on his cock, swallowing it to the base, tickling his balls with the tip of your tongue; sucking him like a good girl, licking every swollen vein along its huge velvety length, and you know Professor Song has a big, thick dick. You think about how he will grab your hips, slap your butt cheeks hard, and penetrate your needy, horny cunt with one hard thrust until his balls are slapping against your ass. Fuck, you really want Professor Song to destroy you, and this desire almost overshadows the hatred you feel for this man.

Snap back to reality, and you're practically crawling over to your laptop with innocent, tear-stained eyes before pulling the toy out of your mouth with a wet pop and smiling brightly at the camera as if you hadn't just been ruined by a silicone dick. Your mouth is shiny and wet from a mixture of saliva, sticky pink lip gloss, and your juices.

"Fuck, that was so hot."

"I'd like you to splash on my cock as well, honey."

"Wow, baby, I didn't know you could do that. Will you squirt on my face if I pay you?"

"I want to cum in your cunt so bad, sweet cheeks, daddy must keep you full and pretty with his cum."

"You're so fucking beautiful, angel, I'll jerk off on your face every night."

"That was your best stream ever, princess."

All these comments are making you giggle. Men are really just horny animals; show them a nice pussy and they will be at your feet.

You spend some time interacting with the public, reading comments, and showing off your new toys and lingerie that you bought with the money you made from streaming. The cursor hovers over the bright red button, and before you press it to end the broadcast, you look straight into the camera, first slowly licking your lips, then slightly tilting your head to the side with the sweetest expression on your cute little face. It may seem that you are talking to all the viewers, but in fact you are talking to just one man, Le Maître.

"I hope you have enjoyed today's show, sir, and that you have had a lot of fun. But I really want you to use your real dick to make me cum and squirt so hard. I really, really want you to fuck me in real life, Daddy." You kissed and winked at everyone, and you finally finished your show.

Mingi couldn't sleep at all that night; after the show, he jerked off two or three more times, even using an artificial pussy, imagining he was fucking you instead of a cold silicone toy. He came so much that his cum was everywhere, even landing on his luxurious diamond-encrusted Rolex.

In contrast to your restless, overheated professor, you fell asleep almost immediately—tired and satisfied—from an amazing orgasm and from a huge amount of money that fell into your bank account after the stream had ended. Of course, your Le Maître was the biggest donor of all.

Next Friday

"I expect all of you to take this course more seriously and to have your homework done by Monday. From next week, there will be three more lectures on French literature in your course, so don't be a disappointment to me. The class is dismissed."

You sigh heavily, already anticipating the torment the extra pairings with Professor Song will bring you. Fuck, you hate him so much, but the sight of his thighs in those tight trousers should be illegal. That's a real crime against humanity. You gather your things and hope to get out of the stuffy lecture hall, which now always has the smell of pure sex—Professor Song's perfume. If you didn't know any better, you'd be thinking that the man was literally bathing in an aphrodisiac, because it's just not real to smell like that. You never thought you'd be turned on by someone else's perfume, but here we are, drooling on the floor at the incredibly sexy scent that Professor Song Mingi wears like a second skin. Sometimes you wonder: Does the bitch know how attractive he is? But he does, and he uses it to his advantage, judging by that smug, arrogant grin that always sits on those plump, sensual lips. 

You are just about to leave when you hear his deep, husky voice calling out your name. Oh no, not now. 

"I'd like to talk to you about your performance, Y/N." Mingi begins to speak slowly, stretching out the letters and putting emphasis on the last word. There is definitely a certain ambiguity in all this, which you can't quite make out. "What can you tell me about it?" He walks around his desk, leans his gorgeous butt against it, and crosses his arms over his chest. His poor shirt buttons try harder than the devil on a good day.

You tilt your head to the side in confusion and walk down the stairs, authematic, to be closer to him. Why is he asking you that now? Damn, he always finds the perfect time to throw you off balance. Your heart races, and you try to ground yourself, thinking about what an idiot he is and what strange things could be going on in that beautiful head of his. You struggled to read him; his stunning model face always had this arrogant royal expression that completely failed to convey his true feelings, so every time you talked to him, it was like playing with a big cat. 

"I think I'm all right, Sir. Why are you asking?" You stammer slightly, but when you hear Mingi's deep moaning, all your mental scolding about your nervousness quickly fades away. You stare at him with your eyes wide open in an attempt to comprehend what the hell is going on. Your eyes focus on Professor Song. The way your narcissistic jerk of a professor shamelessly adjusts his trousers, which now show a very noticeable bulge in his crotch.

Before you know it, you're standing right in front of him, and your nervousness has returned with a vengeance. He's even more handsome up close—classic glasses perched on the bridge of his perfect nose, his long fingers reaching up to remove them and place them on the table. He stares at you with his dark fox eyes, towering over your petite frame, as he carefully pulls the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows, revealing the massive bracelets around his wrists and the bulging veins on his forearms. God, does he have any idea of the effect this has on you? Too afraid to look him in the eye, you cast a glance at the small cross around his neck.

"Yes, you're doing very well. Too well, actually, aren't you, Y/N?" As his thumb runs down your soft cheek, tracing the outline of your mouth lower until he slides it between your parted lips, you almost gasp and feel like you're going to faint. You don't hear anything but your heart pounding in your ears. It feels like it's about to burst out of your chest. You stare at him helplessly as he presses the pad of his finger against your tongue, stroking it lightly. A devilish grin appears on his plump lips, replacing his usual bitchy expression with something more sinister and dangerous. "Such a beautiful little dolly, aren't you? So skilled with your fingers, so good with that pretty little doll mouth of yours, and you definitely know how to serve that little cunt of yours perfectly." Mingi whispers as he leans closer to you, his other hand reaching under your skirt and squeezing your bare bottom. Fuck, you definitely shouldn't have worn a thong today. "I'm sure you're playing with your sweet bottom, too, bunny." He continues to rub his thumb over your tongue for a few more moments, while his other hand gives your arse a hard massage that makes you squeal with pleasure. You're quite sure that the skin on your bottom is already red from his aggressive touch. As soon as Mingi stops touching you and pulls his hands away from you, crossing them over his broad chest, the situation comes back to you.

You are watching his every move, breathing heavily, letting your eyes glide over every pulsing vein on his forearms, and praying to God that you will have enough strength not to lean over and run the tip of your tongue over them. 

"P-Professor, I don't have a clue what you're talkin' about."

"Oh, darling, don't play innocent; you have a very clear idea of what I'm talking about. I'm really glad you found a good use for the gift I gave you last night, my angel." Professor Song's voice is a velvety whisper, and considering how quiet it is in the lecture theatre, he might as well have shouted, the meaning of his words ringing loudly in your ears. He's like a predator, slowly circling around you, the soles of his designer shoes clicking on the parquet floor. Your feet feel as if they are glued to the floor, and you don't know what to do. When you try to speak again, your voice sounds broken, and you are on the verge of tears. 

"Will there be a report against me, Professor Song? Or what? You haven't got any hard evidence that it's me." You say it with conviction, and hope springs, but unfortunately, it dies as soon as Mingi opens his mouth.

"That may be true, my dear. But you wouldn't want such terrible accusations to be made against you, would you? Mingi taunts you; his deep voice suddenly comes very close to your ear. You feel so unprotected in his presence, so tiny in comparison to his huge, tall body. Why does this man have to be so bloody big?

"They'll never know it was me who found your profile on the porn site; I could easily pass it off as an anonymous tip." You catch your breath as you feel his rough, hot hand slide under your skirt and up your thigh. Mingi smiles at your reaction and leans in closer to you, biting the lobe of your ear. "Besides, this is going to get rumoured around the university. People will be tempted to do a check on your account—people you know, people you might be close to." He goes on, the heat of his breath making you shiver. 

His broad palm grips your mound in a possessive way, the heat from your pretty pussy causing his cock to twitch in his trousers. You try to stifle a shameful moan, but the sound escapes you, and you unconsciously lean forward, pressing your breasts against him. Mingi wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body as he does so. Oh shit, your head is spinning from the smell of his perfume so close, and on top of everything else, you're ashamed to admit it, but your pussy is terribly wet, and you're pretty sure Professor Song can feel your wetness in the palm of his hand. 

"It may be illegal to screenshot, and your streamers will disappear, but what about the pictures and videos you've posted? Of course, everyone will be able to see your sexy little body all over the place. And don't you dare argue about it. You always look like a thirsty slut, wearing those tiny skirts and shoving your tits in everyone's face. You are a worthless little bitch." Professor Song hisses and presses the palm of his hand harder against your pussy, and you want to rub it against it so badly that it's almost pathetic.

Your tongue doesn't turn into an object; it's as if it were glued to the roof of your mouth. Mingi was right; you've always dressed rather provocatively, and it's never bothered you, but it seemed to bother him. 

"Either way, your name will still be in tatters, and my reputation will be perfect and clean, as it should be. I'm a respected professor with a model student. I'm not someone who watches a cam-girl stream every Friday night and watches how she stuffs a fake cock into her luscious little cunt." Wiping away a tear that has accidentally escaped your eye, Mingi's thumb runs down your cheek. Your vision is blurred by the tears, and the dark, lustful eyes of Professor Song are the only thing you can see clearly.

"Please tell me... What can I do to stop you from saying anything about me?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, and your words are a useless string of letters. Mingi's eyes flash angrily at your whimpering plea.

"Ah angel, you sound even better in real life when you're begging." Mingi moans as his middle finger slowly rubs the folds of your folds through your panties, which are more like a tiny piece of lace and do very little to cover the plumpness of your cunt. You whimper softly as you lean back against his shoulder. You've always been easy to arouse, and the wet sound you make when Mingi's fingers tease your pussy makes it clear that you're absolutely flowing for him right now. You can be sure that as soon as he pulls your panties off to the side, your viscous slime will be dripping freely out of your hole and onto the polished parquet floor. "I think you know very well what it is I want from you. I pay you good money all the time; don't you think I deserve the real thing, my doll?" You let out a loud whimper as his big hand pressed down hard on your shoulder. "On your knees, little one; don't keep your sir waiting."

As you kneel before your professor, facing the growing bulge in his trousers, your lower lip trembles. Professor Song is leaning against the desk, his hands on either side of his body, gazing up at you from under the lashes of his eyes. Your trembling hands are fumbling with his belt, and the sound of the metal echoes through the empty room.

"Oh, now you're embarrassin' yourself, darlin'? Where's that slutty bitch who was squirting all over yesterday because she let her pussy get stretched by a big dildo?" Mingi says it arrogantly, tilting his head to the side and tapping his fingers on his desk in disappointment. You flinch at his words like a slap in the face, but don't bother to reply as you pull down his trousers and underwear, the sight of his thick, wiry cock making your mouth dry as you try to swallow the lump in your throat. Like everything else about Professor Song, his cock is amazing—a drop of pre-ejaculate glistening on the flushed head, a thick vein swollen and throbbing just waiting for you to run your soft tongue over it, and its size—he's got a huge cock with a massive girth that you can barely wrap your palm around. Mingi wraps his hand around the cock, his thumb smearing the wetness over the head before he brings it to your lips and runs his whole length over it, leaving a wet sheen, and slaps your mouth a couple of times. 

"Open your mouth, dolly."

Mingi's other hand tangles in your hair, pulling hard on the long strands as you obediently open your mouth for him. His thick cock enters your mouth slowly, your jaw tensing as you try to get used to the size of it. You choke as the blunt head of his cock hits the back of your throat and the balls rest against the side of your chin. Mingi's thumb caressed your tear-stained cheek, and he cooed sweetly as he watched you gurgle around his cock, drool bubbling at the corners of your lips and dripping down your chin. His cock is hot and heavy in your mouth, the veins stretching across the sensitive, velvety skin. Professor Song doesn't give you enough time to get used to the size of his cock and pulls your head back until the only thing left in your mouth is his head.

"Don't you think you should lick me before I fuck you in the mouth, doll? You were very eloquent about wanting me to do it yesterday." You obediently run your tongue around the head of his cock, feeling more pre-cum pouring from his slit onto your tongue. It has a sweetly bitter taste, and you think that it is very suitable for Mingi. "Well done." Professor Song hisses at you before he pushes his cock all the way back into your mouth. You gasp as your hands fly to his strong, muscular thighs in an attempt to push him away as his hips thrust sharply forward, mindlessly using your mouth as his personal cock sleeve. The thick length of it presses down on your throat, and the bulge of his cock is perfectly visible against the back of your neck with each powerful thrust. 

"I have been waiting for such a long time to fuck that slutty mouth. Darling, I can see that you have nothing more to say to me, do you? That's how it's supposed to be; whores don't get to talk." Mingi lets out a deep moan and throws her head back as she pushes you down on his cock. Your saliva mixes with his pre-cum and sticky lip gloss, coating the length of thickly dick, making it shiny and smooth so it slides easily over your tongue and deeper into your throat. As you reflexively try to swallow, your jaw aches, your lips stretch around the thick circumference, and the walls of your throat contract. Never in your life have you sucked such a big, long cock, yet here you are, fulfilling the role of a pretty sex toy for your professor to enjoy. At least, unlike some lifeless silicone, no matter how expensive, your cunt and mouth are warm and moist. 

As he mercilessly fucks you in the mouth, Professor Song is not shy about his volume, emitting hoarse, prolonged moans and growls. Anyone could walk into the lecture hall at any moment and see your compromising position, but for some reason it turns you on. Maybe you really are a slut, although as long as you get paid enough, you don't mind being one, especially when Mingi is the one scolding you daily until you pass out. 

"Fuck, I'll cum." Mingi gasps as he wraps both of his large arms around your head, trying to hold it in place. You moan around his cock, the vibrations making Professor Song growl ducky as he presses harder into your slluty mouth and your grip on his hips tightens, your nails digging into the juicy flesh, leaving vicious marks, but Mingy doesn't give a shit; you could rip his skin off if he keeps fucking you like a personal doll. His dark, foxy eyes find yours, his beautiful, plump lips are slightly parted, and his balls are clenched, slapping you on the chin. Now you don't even know what to call him. If you thought Song Mingi looked like a wet dream before, then now he's sex itself. 

"Damn, damn, damn, doll!" He moans loudly, jerking his hips as his sperm pours into your mouth. As you forcefully swallow the viscous liquid that seems to have no end, your prolonged whimper is distorted. There's so much of his cum that some of it seeps through the corners of your mouth. He continues to slowly fuck your mouth. "Don't waste it, slut." He says it in a threatening voice, and you whimper at the venom in his tone. Mingi uses his long fingers to push his cum between your lips and roughly wipes the wet mess around your mouth. All of his rings are covered in a thin layer of cum and saliva, but you think it's hot.

You blink twice, catch your breath, and the next thing you know, your knees are no longer touching the cold floor, and your face, wet with tears and sperm, is pressed against Professor Song's spotless, cold desk; he has thrown you on the desk like a fucking doll. Fucking hell, that wasn't supposed to turn you on, but God, this man is just driving you crazy. You're too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice that Mingi has lifted your skirt, exposing your wet thong to his gaze. The cold air in the audience causes your hole to clench in reflex and the liquid to squirt out. 

You have to clench your fist to keep from squealing as the tight, expensive leather of his belt lands on your bottom with a loud crack. Oh my God, he has just hit you with his belt. Oh shit. Mingi doesn't let you recover; he holds your head against the table with one hand while he slaps your bottom again with the other. The sting of the contact between your soft flesh and the belt makes you squirm and writhe. 

"You just sucking my cock, and you're already so wet? You really are a slut. Aren't you?" He smirks as he leans down and sinks his teeth into the flushed skin of your arse before giving you another good spanking. You whimper as Mingi pulls your thong down your trembling legs, long strands of your own slime tugging at the insignificant piece of fabric as he does so. He pushes your buttocks apart so that your plump, flowing pussy is exposed to his hungry eyes.

Mingi picks up your leg, which is bent at the knee, and puts it down on the table. You whimper and grab hold of the edge of the table, embarrassed at how open you are to him at this moment. To be honest, it's the most disgusting feeling—you're embarrassed, but at the same time, you want him to do even more disgusting and humiliating things with you. Professor Song crouches down in front of you and spits into your cunt before licking a long, sloppy strip between your folds. Mingi uses his fingers to push your folds apart and then slides the tip of his tongue into your tight hole, tracing the edge of it. 

"Oh, God, sir..." As Mingi eagerly licks your cunt, avoiding your throbbing clit, you let out a long moan and arch your hips towards his tongue. He pulls back abruptly, his heavy hand coming down on your bruised arse to spank you hard before you can get the stimulation you need. 

"Did I tell you you could move, huh? You impatient bitch." You whimper at his reproachful tone. You scratch the wood with your fingernails as he spanks you again. "A good student answers the question, Dolly." Mingi hisses, mixing the scalding pain with the pleasure of the spanking, as his hand touches your bottom again.  "N-no, sir! You didn't tell me to move! I'm so sorry."

"That's right, doll, but I have a feeling the games are over for today." Professor Song says as he finally gets up to his full height and puts his arm around your neck.

Breathing heavily and hoarsely, Mingi feels the heat emanating from you as he guides his thick cock into your little hole. You let out a loud breath and wonder if his cock will feel like the toy he has given you. Probably not; however much you like it, nothing compares to the warmth and throbbing of a real cock, especially Song Mingi's cock.  You squirm as you feel the head of his cock pass slowly between your muscles, a soft howl escaping from your lips. The dildo you used yesterday is nothing compared to Mingi's dick; it feels bigger and thicker, the swollen veins of his cock stretching deliciously along your silky, trembling walls. The urge to hold him inside you is almost irresistible, and you can't help but clench around him. Fuck, and here you thought Mingi couldn't be more slutty and godlike, and you were wondering if his cock had been given special attention during his creation? You let out a loud moan, your tongue flicking out of your mouth, and right now you definitely fit the definition of 'well fucked'. Drops of sweat roll down Mingi's neck, disappearing beneath the fabric of his unbuttoned shirt, exposing his hot golden skin and sculpted breasts. Heavy breathing replaces what he's saying, and you feel partly grateful for that. When he finally enters you at the base, the head of his cock touching your cervix and his forehead pressing against your shoulder, you both moan loudly.

"S-Sir, y-you're too big."

Ignoring your whimpering, Mingi grabs you by the hips and immediately sets a brutal but rhythmic pace with you. The objects on his desk shake and fall, shattering on the parquet floor as he fucks you, pressing your body against the desk with the full weight of his body. The fabric rubbing against your hardened nipples sends a pleasant tingle down your spine and makes you shiver from the added stimulation. Your moans grow louder and louder, your cheeks burning, and you can hear his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he thrusts your tight pussy back and forth along the length of his throbbing cock. The humiliation of pouring cream around Professor Song's cock brings tears to your eyes, but at the same time, you come to an almost orgasmic pleasure as he slaps your arse again. The sting stings like a bitch, but it feels fucking unbelievably good.

"That's it, goddamn it. I've been thinking about fucking that tight little cunt for ages. You really are the perfect doll to fuck."

It all makes you dizzy, and you moan "sir" and "daddy" as your pussy sucks him up greedily. You're getting so excited; you don't want to admit it, but you can't help yourself. You can't get enough of Mingi's cock. It feels so good inside you. 

"That's my good little girl. You're definitely worth what I've paid for you." Mingi growls in your ear as he pushes harder and harder into your used cunt. He presses down hard on your neck, pinning you to the table, not letting you move, and fucking you relentlessly, his hips moving hard and fast as he takes complete control of your body. Your orgasm starts to form, an intoxicating sensation of rapture coursing through your veins like lava. 

"Sir, please! Harder!" You need to cum so badly that you beg him to go harder.

Mingi's eyes were narrow—dark and cruel—and his muscles were quivering and tense from your pathetic begging. He's a professor, and professors always want the best for their students, especially the ones they like best.

"Look at you, begging for my cock like a good little bitch," he says. He accentuates the last word with a strong thrust and plunges so deep into your cunt that you can almost feel the head of his cock entering your cervix. A mixture of incoherent words and intermittent moans escape your lips. Your head falls forward as Professor Song releases your neck to grab your thighs again, leaving more bruises on them. 

"Will you cum for me, bitch?" He leans down to your ear and nibbles on your lobe, the slapping of your skin and squishing of your pussy echoing through the empty hall.

"Hell yeah! I'm going to cum for you! I'm going to cum for you, Daddy; I'm going to cum on your cock!" You scream, the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter, and Professor Song fucks your flowing cunt faster and harder.

"Then cum, bunny." He growls, his hips losing their rhythm and jerking, his cock throbbing as thick, hot jets of cum coat the walls of your cunt. He moans your name quietly while your voice is barely audible—a weak, panting whisper, 'Mingi'. Both of your bodies are slowly at rest, revelling in the haze of your orgasms. Soft cries and whimpers escape from your lips, and you shudder as you feel your mixed juices pour out of you, staining the floor that was once so clean. You collapse helplessly on the table, your body going limp, a puddle of saliva pooling under your cheek, and your breathing heavy as you try to clear your mind.

Mingi moans. He bites his plump lip as he comes out of you. You whimper, squirming awkwardly as more cum pours from your pussy. You turn back to look at Professor Song, and your eyes almost pop out of your head as you see him pressing your panties to his nose and moaning loudly and satisfied. He smirks at you vulgarly, licks his lips, and wipes his cock with your underwear before tucking his dick into his trousers, the zip jangling loudly. He dismissively tosses your thong aside and presses against you again, pinning you between the desk and his big muscular body, his hot breath touching your earlobe, before whispering in his deep porn voice.

"Don't think that this is just a one-time thing, doll. I have paid for you, and now you belong to me. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes, Professor Song. I understand you perfectly."

"That's good. You're a real teacher's pet. On Monday evening, I will be expecting you for an extra lesson. Don't you dare disappoint me, doll." He slaps your butt once more before he pulls himself away completely and walks out of the classroom. 

Oh, this is really fucked up. 

[lovesickhughes]

juno | jack hughes

❝𝒾, 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓂𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝓊𝓉𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝓌𝑜, 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽? 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒, 𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓎, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒❞ 🤍🌷👼🏼✨

a/n: i have managed to scrounge together a little piece as confirmation that i am still alive, and i would say thriving, but school has consumed me. i love myself a good dad!jack fic so here we are! soo happy hockey is back in action though, more good things to come, i hope you enjoy! 🫶🏻💐

tags: soontobedad!jack hughes x pregnant!reader

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, fluffff

word count: 2.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You were so pregnant; and you didn't realize what other moms meant until you were two weeks out of your due date, and every function of your working body felt exhausting. Even sleeping had got to the point of being a discomfort. If it weren't for your queen-sized mattress, and a human-sized pillow that coddled your body at night, you wouldn't have been surprised if people had questioned your existence.

Despite the aching desire for the next two weeks of uncertainty to pass by within a breath, you loved being pregnant. It was the best thing to ever occur for Jack and you, other than your marriage and pre-existing life together. And when you found out you were expecting from a delayed period and peed on stick, the warmth that spread through your body was an unforgettable experience.

When Jack found out, through a card placed within a basket of Dad-related gag gifts, he had thought you were pulling a joke. It never once had crossed his mind the dream of starting a family would actually become a reality. But after a twenty-minute long reassurance conversation, Jack and you going back and forth between if you were being honest or not, the hug Jack engulfed you in was the tightest hug ever imagined.

You shared the special moment between the two of you, before sharing the news to extended family when safe. Then at the end of Jack's hockey season, you announced to the world the new family member you would be welcoming to the family, your little June Bug in reference to their due date.

Now, at the end of the NHL season, the winning team having been awarded the most difficult trophy to win in sports, award season rolled around within a blink of an eye. Jack was fortunate enough to be nominated for the King Clancy award for the past season, as well as his brother Quinn being nominated for his own awards for his past season success.

With that, the arrangements began taking place, you were in contact with Jack's management, organizing all of the needs for both his and your's appearance to the award show; entailing what suit and dress you would be wearing, how long your stay would be, and all the precautions regarding your pregnancy.

The morning of the award show, you were awoken to the intense strain of your bladder from your growing baby laying ever-so-slightly on just the right spot to cause a disturbance; waking you at a dawning 7:48 AM, when the alarm was set for 9:00 AM.

You scolded yourself as you leveraged yourself off of the mattress and in the direction of the attached bathroom of your hotel suite, hearing the fabric of the mattress rub against Jack's body as he stirred at your movement.

After using the bathroom, brushing your teeth and beginning to waken fully, you waddle back to your bed, rubbing the small of your back in an attempt to relieve some of the strain the weight of your stomach was causing to your body.

Once propped in bed with three pillows supporting your back as you sat upright, Jack's soft breaths caught your attention, causing you to look over at his peaceful state, envying his relaxation that you dreaded on feeling once again. He was on his stomach, arms beside his head as his legs were sprawled out along the length of the mattress, and as if he could feel your gaze while asleep, he began to stir, legs closing in and stretching to awaken.

His head lifted, his hair messily arranged from sleeping in one position all night.

"G'morning, baby." He groggily spoke, clearing his throat as he squinted his eyes. He rolled to his side, resting his head into the palm of his hands, contouring his muscles in a way that made you ogle him in a suggestive manner.

"Good morning, you." You smiled.

"Did our little Junebug wake you up?" He questioned through a wide smile, his eyes diverted to your large bulge of a stomach before pushing the duvet from your body to reveal your pregnancy and place a hand under your sleep shirt, rubbing his calloused hands against your skin.

Whether it was the baby kicking, or the butterflies of flattery from Jack's actions, you felt a sensation within your body, causing you to smile even harder than before.

"Oh, you know she woke me up, it's what she does best." You spoke softly, "Sit right on my bladder." You laughed, earning a grin from Jack.

He shuffled in the bed closer to your body, sliding his hand from the top of your bump, to your hip and slipping a finger under the waistband of your shorts. His face was now aligned with your bump, and you knew exactly what actions were to follow.

"Hello my little June Bug," Jack cooed, pausing as if he were waiting for a response, "Mommy and I have a special day today, we get to dress up real nice and fancy, and have our pictures taken; and maybe we'll even get to see your Daddy on stage when he wins his award." He smirked while shooting his gaze up to you who watched intently. He rubbed his thumb along your hip while he spoke, causing his touch to send signals of warmth through your entire body.

Your hand found Jack's luscious brown hair at the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers through the softness while you listened to his routinely morning conversation with your growing baby. What warms your heart the most, is each time the baby kicks, sending butterflies through your stomach and the sensation traveling to Jack's hands, his face always lit up in the same expression of being completely awestruck at the feeling.

Jack and you continued your time in bed for not much longer until you were needing to get up and start your day, quickly piecing together outfits that you had packed for the trip and heading down to the main foyer of the hotel lobby, setting yourselves on the way to grab brunch.

Hand in hand, you walked along the busy sidewalk of the hosting city, the occasional fan mentioning their sighting of Jack by calling for his attention or asking to take pictures with him. You loved seeing Jack interact with fans outside of games, especially kids, because it was as if it were a glimpse of what he would be like as a father. He'd ask the kids what their interests were, if they were excited for upcoming games and what they wanted to do when they grew up. Seeing his compassion and caring demeanor around the fans made you more than happy to pause your plans and help make a child's day.

After breakfast, Jack and you headed back to the hotel, being on a tight schedule of needing to be at the arena where the award show was being hosted, at a prime five o'clock. Smoothies in hand, you made it up to your designated room, and Jack quickly kissed your cheek before slipping into the bathroom to shower before the show. You opened the closet doors that were to your right, grabbing the two bagged outfits that you had fitted for this event. Considering you were pregnant at the time of the fitting, and knew you were still going to be by the time of the awards, you went with a soft, breathable and comfortable material, knowing beforehand that you would want to cause the least amount of discomfort to your swollen, aching, and still growing belly.

You plopped down onto the mattress in your hotel room, letting out an exhausted breath, as your pregnancy had reached the point of the simplest tasks becoming overwhelmingly tiring. You reached a hand to the small of your back again, similarly to when you woke up, becoming more aware of the excruciating ache from the weight of your belly.

Deciding to push it to the back of your mind to the best of your ability, you hung your dress and Jack's suit on the closet door for when you two were ready to change.

You knew Jack would air on the side of caution in regards to your pregnancy, and you could tell he was more nervous of your baby's arrival than you were, so if you were to mention the slightest inconvenience, you knew he would protest continuing your plans, and opting to stay home. You appreciated his efforts, but you knew you were stronger than you felt, and for Jack's sake of the award show, you would be able to manage a slight back ache.

Jack had finished in the shower, exiting the ensuite bathroom with a white towel wrapped low against his waist, your gaze following his figure in awe as he reached for his suitcase to grab a few toiletries.

If there was one thing about your pregnancy hormones; you felt like a predator waiting to pounce on its prey, every time Jack put himself in a suggestive situation.

Him lifting the heavy suitcases into the trunk of the rental car? Your skin felt feverish.

Backwards cap? You had to check your pulse.

When he gets impatient in situations and wants to make sure your needs are met? You have to be sure that it's not obvious that you're drooling over your husband in public.

"Like what you see, babe?" Jack called to you as he headed back to the bathroom. You chuckle at his remark, following his path and meeting him in the humid, steamy bathroom. He pulled you in by your hips and interlocked his hands behind the small of your back, looking down into your eyes with a smile.

Pressing a quick kiss to your lips, he shuffled behind your figure and stood behind you, both of your eyes falling onto the pair in the reflection of the mirror. You could feel Jack's warmth against the back of your body, emitting its heat, and his warm breath falling onto your neck as he hugged you tight. His hands on your swollen belly, he began slowly swaying back and forth with you in his arms.

"I love you," you said sheepishly through a smile, earning a bright grin in response from Jack. He peppered the side of your face with kisses, the slowly drying water droplets left on his face transferring to yours.

"I love you so much more," he said, "and I can't express enough how much it means for you to be here with me, all things considered in the timing of your pregnancy."

"You didn't have to ask me twice, you know I'd always come to support you." You smile again, turning from meeting his eyes through the mirror to face Jack, eyes connecting again as he looked down at you, now leaning your body against the counter.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Y/n." Jack said quieter, his hand reaching up to the side of your face and holding the back of your neck, he reached down to connect your lips, an inhale being breathed through his nose as you kissed.

It was slow and passionate, and when you reached your arms up to interlock behind his neck, Jack's lips left yours and found your neck, just below your ear.

"Jack," you protested, attempting to push his body off of yours. You knew you didn't have all the time in the world to spend getting ready before the awards, but you failed as Jack continued down your chest to the top of your square-lined top. You threw your head back in pleasure when he brought his lips back up to your neck on the other side, planting a wet, passionate kiss right along your sweet spot, causing a slight moan to slip out of your mouth.

And that's what caused Jack to stop with a smirk written all over his face.

"What was that?" He asked smugly.

"You know what it was, silly. We don't have time for this." You whined, knowing you wanted nothing more than to release the pent up desire between the two of you.

"We could make it work," Jack pressed, gripping your sides more tightly in desperation.

You shook your head, "we can't, babe, plus- I think you'd somehow manage to get me pregnant again with the way these pregnancy hormones have been hitting me lately." You confessed with raised eyebrows. shocked at your own statement and earning a loud laugh from Jack.

Boy, were these next few weeks going to be long. 

[hamiltonaf]

Veiled Emotions | Lando Norris

Part 1 | (Part 2)

Pairings: Lando Norris x BFF!Female Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: Sexual tension | Slow Burn

A/N: Hello my lovelies. Apologies for the delay, I had a busy week and it was my birthday, so consider this a gift from me to you guys. I got a bit carried away, so I hope you loves enjoy .xx

(Y/F/N) - Your Friend’s Name

It was the next morning, and thankfully (Y/F/N) let me sleep in, and didn’t bother me to wake up early. I woke up in a pretty good mood until I turned to the side table and looked at my lockscreen to see I was flooded with message notifications from Lando, as well as a number of DMs reacting to my story last night.

 

I opened Lando’s messages first - it was just good morning texts and a spam of him saying my name to wake me up. However his last message said ‘(Y/N/N) I’m coming home later today. Are you busy today ? Call me when you see this ❤️’. Hmm I wonder what it’s about…

 

Before replying back I went through a few of my Instagram DMs. Some asking if it’s Lando, others asking for a better soft launch, though one DM caught my eye from João, the last person I would ever expect a DM from.

 

João

Hey beautiful… I know this seems crazy but would love to get to know you better. How about tonight after my match ?

 

Y/N

Hii ! We just started following each other… eager to see me already ? lol just playing. Sure ☺️

 

João

Was not expecting that to work 😂 but I’m glad it did. Are you free to come to my match at 6 ? Its at Wembley 👀

 

I yelled for (Y/F/N) and luckily she was in the kitchen which isn’t far from my room, “Girl something major just happened!” I said as I sat up against the headboard. “Omg is it Lando ?” She asked as she jumped in the bed beside me. “Yes and no, well not right now. So you wouldn’t believe this but João just DMed me asking if-“

 

“Babe slow it down and reverse. Did you just say João DMed you ? AND YOU ARE THROWING THAT OUT SO CASUALLY ?” She screamed in shock. “Erm okay sorry I guess for not making it a big deal ? Anywho, he wants to go out to tonight after-“ “YES !” She cut me off. “I didn’t finish my sentence” I huffed. “I don’t care, you’re going to whatever he invited you for” she smiled. “Well he first said to meet after his match, and now he’s inviting me to his match as well” I held my head in my hands. “I wish I had your kind of problems. A footballer and a f1 driver fighting for you ? The potential chance you have of being a football or f1 wag is crazy !” she squealed as she clapped her hands.

 

“I take it that I say yes to both ?” I raised a brow. “Absolutely !” She said in an obvious tone.“But I don’t know how I feel about going. I mean this is all literally happening bc his ex is dating my Lando” I sighed. “My ?” She teased with a smirk. “Oh my god what am I even saying” I said in shock as I shook my head. “This boy is making me lose my mind” I groaned in frustration.

 

“Okay jokes aside..I understand where you’re coming from. We don’t know what his intentions are and I get that you may feel uncomfortable. Why don’t you ask him if a friend can come with for the match so you have company” she suggested. “I can’t tell if you’re being helpful or if this is an excuse to come with me to a football match” I furrowed my brows. “Well mainly the first one but I won’t deny the second one” she pursed her lips. “I see how it is, oh well either way I’m not planning to go to this match alone. I’m just going to ask him if you can come with” I said as I opened the DM once again.

 

Y/N

I’ve never been, so it sounds like fun, do you mind if I bring a friend with ? 😊

 

João

Don’t mind at all. Whatever you say 😉 Will send you a pass and details in a few for the 2 of you. Look forward to seeing you.

 

Y/N

Perfect ! Thank you so much. See you later 🥰

 

 

“Okay done !” I smiled as I closed the app. “Great, now what about Lando ?” She asked curiously. “Oh yeah..about him-“ I started to laugh nervously. “Oh no. What now ?” She crossed her arms over. “So uhm, he’s coming back home today and well, he asked me to call him when I saw his message” I shrugged casually. “Did you call him ?” She raised a brow. “No ?” I furrowed my brows. “Well what the heck are you waiting for ! Call him right now because I wanna hear this” she yelled. “Okay fine jeez” I scrolled for his name and ringed him.

 

I cleared my throat whilst it was ringing, “Hey you’re finally up” he greeted. “Yeah I just saw your message. What’s up ?” my gaze lingered to (Y/F/N). “Well I’m flying back in a few hours..thought we should meet up, that’s if you’re free” he said hopeful. “Why does he sound shy ?” (Y/F/N) whispered. “Shh- Uhm yeah unfortunately I’m busy today Lan, maybe tomorrow ?” I pressed my lips together. “Oh I see..what are your plans ?” He asked. “Well João wanted me at his match today, and we’re going out after, so I have no idea what time I’ll be back.”

 

“Hmm wow…I take it that you’re going for the Euros then ?” He asked. “Yepp that’s right” I replied. “Great, then I’ll see you later. Bye !” His tone changed. “Byeee” I said lastly as I ended the call. “Did you hear correctly ?” (Y/F/N) asked confused. “What ?” I asked even more baffled than she is. “He said he’ll see you later” she said. “Ohh, well maybe he means before we leave for the match” I suggested. “Oh yeah you got a point” she dropped the subject as our focus was on having brunch.

 

After brunch and trying to kill some time, I had a shower and started to hunt for an outfit. Thank god for (Y/F/N) as she helped me narrow down my options. The look we’re going for is I’m an up-and-coming wag, but I’m mainly just a friend.

 

As we were about to leave, I failed to mention that João sent a driver to escort us to the stadium. Nice touch. (Y/F/N) squealed and pinched me when she saw the car. “Girlll you can have Lando, I’ll take him” I stifled a laugh and tried to hush her before the driver heard us.

 

Upon our arrival at the stadium, we were then escorted by a team member named, Anna. She was really sweet, as she took her time to give us a tour. I was not expecting her to actually take us to the dressing rooms where I was tapped on the shoulder by João. “Hello” he said softly. “Hi omg we finally meet” I smiled as we then exchanged a hug. “About time” he nervously chuckled. “Yeah thank you again for inviting us” (Y/F/N) butted in as she started taking to him.

 

“Well thank you for accepting my invite. I hope you guys enjoy the match, and you’ll be cheering me on” he winked. “Of course !” (Y/F/N) smiled at him. “Sorry to leave so suddenly, I have a team meeting. See you later yeah ?” He said as he started walking backwards. “Yepp” “Goodluck for today’s match” (Y/F/N) added. He waved us off before he finally left. I gave her a side eye before Anna guided us to our seats and bid goodbye.

 

The stadium was full to capacity at this point, however, the match was only about to start in 15 minutes. I thought the view from the box would be a great time to post, but yet again, the fans beat me to it.

 

f1gossipgirl just added to their story

“I swear this girl doesn’t rest” I giggled as I liked the stories. “You look insane, bestie” (Y/F/N) said as she looked over my shoulder. As I continued to go through the stories, my jaw dropped at the caption.

 

f1gossipgirl just added to their story

“Ain’t no frikken way” I said in shock. “Bitch what the hell. Where is he ?” (Y/F/N) started to frantically look around us. As if on queue, the camera pans to Lando, and his face appears on the big screen. “Oh. My. God” we said simultaneously. “Call him right now” I huffed. “Is that a good idea though ?” Before she could reply, she grabbed my phone and dialled his number. “Are you insane ?” I said as she then shoved my phone to my ear. “Hey love” he answered.

 

“Hey you…so like when did you plan on telling me you’re here as well ?” I know him so well that I could tell he’s smiling on the other side, he’s enjoying this a little too much. “Well, I did tell you that I’ll see you later” he half laughed. “Are you stalking me ?” I asked playfully. “No” he scoffed. “Defensive… so you are stalking me” I giggled. “No no I mean I was actually invited, in fact I was going to bring you with me but someone beat me to it” he huffed. “Hmm okay keep telling yourself that” I smiled.

 

“Where are you anyway ? Why don’t you come here and give me company ?” He suggested. “I’m with (Y/F/N), I can’t leave her alone” she then shoved my shoulder. “I’m not a child, you can leave me alone !” she said lowly. “That’s fine, she can take the seat and you can sit on my lap.” Is he flirting with me ? I guess so considering how (Y/F/N) started giggling. “Haha very funny. I don’t think your girlfriend would like that”

 

“Girlfriend ? Where did you hear this ?” He asked. “Okay just forget about it, I’ll see you later. Byeeee” I said as I ended the call.

 

The match ended at 93 minutes with the score being 2-0 - Portugal had won, which is great but disappointing to see England lose.

 

(Y/F/N) and I stayed in place as everyone was leaving. “Can I escort you ladies to a private room so you can get comfortable until João is back ?” Anna suggested. “Yeah sure” (Y/F/N) replied. I followed behind their lead whilst I scrolled through my phone. “Avoiding me, love.” I looked up and I was met by Lando. “Oh hey you” I smiled. “Where are you off to ?” He eagerly asked. “Well, I’m following (Y/F/N) and Anna, she’s escorting us to a private room until João is done, but I’ll see you around” I quickly gave him a smile as I tried to walk past him. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back.

 

“Wait. I feel like I don’t see you anymore these days” he pouted. “I could say the same for you. You’re in a relationship and now well so am I” I lied as I attempted again to walk past him. He yet again successfully pulls me back. “Can we just talk…alone and clear some things… please” he asked sincerely. I glanced over to (Y/F/N) and she nodded towards Lando, hinting I should go with him. “Okay fine.” I walked over to hug (Y/F/N), “Don’t worry I’ll cover for you” she whispered. “Thanks, I owe you” I said back softly. “Anna, thank you for helping this evening. If you’ll excuse me, I unfortunately have to go, but (Y/F/N) is here to accompany João” I smiled at her. She nodded with a smile.

 

I walked back over to Lando, “After you” he smirked as he stood aside for me to walk ahead. Once we were at the parking, he walked ahead of me to his McLaren as he opened the passenger door for me. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today ?” He asked as he leaned against the door. “No, but thank you” I gave him a small smile as he sat in the driver's seat.

 

“So I think let’s clear the air on the topic that seems to bother you” he said as he tried to hide his smile. “I’m sorry but it doesn’t bother me” I scoffed. “By saying it doesn’t bother you, means it bothers you” he smirked. “I think what bothers you is that I was invited to this match by João and I was supposed to be on a date with him after, so you followed me here to ruin my plans” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Yet here you are, in my car. With me” he continued to smirk. “I only came here to ‘clear the air’ like you asked” I raised my voice.

 

“I love to see you get angry” he said as he leaned more into his seat to face me. The sexual tension in the car really got me flustered. “Lando, this is not funny ! Get to the point already, or I’m leaving” I huffed. “Okay okay sorry… so…are you actually dating him ?” he asked. “Are you serious right now ? You called me for this ? Are you trying to get information again for your girlfriend ?”

 

“Again with the girlfriend story” he laughed. “What is so damn funny ? Share the joke so I too can laugh” I rolled my eyes. “She’s not my girlfriend” he held in his laugh. “Wait what” I could feel the heat rush to my cheeks. “But I swear everyone and their mothers said that you’re dating her ? I felt like such an idiot being your so-called best friend because everyone knew this except for me” I argued. “Well sorry to break it you like this but you fell for the rumours like everyone else”

 

“But she went on this trip with you guys and-“ he cut me off. “Yeah because she’s friends with Pietra and besides that, I asked you to come with but you said no” he pouted. “Because like I told you, I didn’t want to be a third wheel” I sighed. “You wouldn’t have been a third wheel because you have me. If anything, she was going to feel like a third wheel because I’m closer to you… I was really hoping you were coming because I was so lonely, that’s why I video called you last night, but then you thought something else and cut the call on me” he called me out.

 

“I mean can you blame me with everything I’ve been hearing ?” I scoffed. “Now that that’s out of the way. Are you dating him ?” He asked as he leaned on the console between us. “What’s it to you ?” I grinned. “Oh come on, I answered your question, the least you can do is answer mine” he pouted again with the puppy dog eyes. “I guess you can say it’s a yes and no answer” I said playfully. He tilted his head to the side, “It’s either a yes or no” he said as he leaned closer towards me.

 

It started to feel really hot with all this sexual tension. I could feel the moisture and tiny beads of sweat start to form along my collarbones and my cleavage. It’s as if (Y/F/N) confident spirit took over me when I answered his question. “Well, yes I’m dating him if it means it bothers you and no, I’m not dating him..unless, you’re interested” I smirked as I tilted my head. He sniggered as he broke eye contact for a second before meeting my eyes again. He grabbed my cap and put it on himself backwards. “What are you doing ?” I furrowed my brows. “Something I should’ve done a very long time ago” he said as he entangled his fingers into my hair and closed the gap between us.

 

Our lips met in a rush of warmth, a collision of uncertainty and desire. The kiss was both sweet and fierce, a moment that felt like it could unravel everything we’d been avoiding. My hands wrapped around his neck and trailed into his hair, lightly pulling on it. When we finally pulled away, breathless, I found myself searching his eyes.

 

He bit his lip as he pressed his forehead against mine. “Wow” I said, my voice shaky. He chuckled softly, a smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, wow…always wanted to do that.”

 

I wasn’t done messing with him. “Then why didn’t you ? Oh right, you were so busy hitting on your ‘girlfriend’ that-“ he cut me off by capturing my lips in another kiss. He broke away to look at me, “You know you drive me insane sometimes, but it shows how much I love you when I can’t stop thinking about you or when I randomly smile at something you said” he blushed. “You already love me ?” I teased him. “Yes. Yes I do” he said as he gave me a quick peck. “Okay” I smiled. “Don’t you love me too ?” He pouted. “I’m still thinking about it” I pursed my lips.

 

“What is there to think about ?” He asked in shock. “I think I’m gonna need a little bit more of your lips on mine to decide-“ I tried to hide my laugh as he then cupped my face with his hands. “Is. This. Good. Enough. For. You” he pecked my lips after each word. I giggled at him being silly, “Okay okay, I love you too.” “Damn right you do” murmured as his hand moved to my neck and placed his lips on mine once again.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨All Dolled Up✨

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: After months of hard work, Lucifer finally gifted you a welcome present after joining the hotel! In return, you decide to make something of your own just for him! Your gift, however, turns out to be even more special than you intended...

This is a surprise story for my friend @rosen-und-mondlicht who gave me this very creative and fun idea for a story! Love you boo <3

Huge thanks to @canihaveacandycane and @citrusbatsandhoneybees for the help on this one!

Warnings: smut, 18+, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), multiple orgasms, p in v

Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! We're so happy to have you stay with us! We hope your time here is an enjoyable one!

-Hotel Staff

P.S. Hey there! I'm sorry this took so long to give you, I just had to make it perfect! I hope you like it!

-Lucifer

It was custom for every new resident to receive a welcome letter. Even though you've already been at the hotel for 6 months now, it was still appreciated. You walked into your room and found your very late letter sitting next to a small white box complete with a red bow resting at the foot of your bed. The gift was unexpected; however, you hadn't heard of anyone else receiving one. Once you read the card, you figured you knew the reason for its delay. Lucifer, always the perfectionist, must have stalled the whole operation.

You hadn't expected to become so close to the King of Hell himself. You were weary of him at first, I mean, who wouldn't be? Everyone knew about the fallen angel. But after a while, you started to warm up to him. It was easy to see that he was nothing like you imagined or had been told about while you were alive. He was a kind soul, a dreamer who loved his daughter dearly, and someone who was very, very lonely. You learned about his previous wife Lilith and how she had left several years ago never and hadn't been heard from since. You could tell this deeply affected Lucifer even though he did his best to hide it through his jovial persona. You two grew pretty close, he found you incredibly easy to talk to, as if he had known you his whole life. You enjoyed your time together and you found joy in listening to whatever he chose to ramble on about that day be it his latest project or reminiscing about his daughter Charlie when she was younger. You'd never admit it, but you had developed somewhat of a crush on the king. But who were you to get involved with the ruler of Hell? It wasn't your place as a mere sinner and you dared not ruin the friendship you had built with him, odd as it may be.

Curiously, you picked up the box and casually began to unwrap it. you lifted the lid to find a cute little rubber duck that resembled you! All the little details down to your hair, your eye color, and somehow it managed to capture your smile in its little orange beak. You loved it, no wonder to took him so long to complete; every detail was perfect. It was such a thoughtful gift, and you felt the burning need to return the favor! Who knows the last time Lucifer had been given a gift. Why couldn't it be from you?

You noticed something else in the box too and lifted it up gently. It was a beautiful white and red feather. You knew it must have been his, but did he mean to give this to you as well? Knowing him, he must have worked frantically to get this gift finished. A few must have fallen off during the packing process; you knew how stressed the man could get. But the feather gave you an idea. You couldn't make rubber ducks like him, that was his specialty. But you did, however, know how to make little felt dolls! You were very crafty during your life and you figured you might as well use the skills you have to do something good.

You spent most of the night sewing and stitching everything together, ignoring the many warning signs your body gave you in order to try and get you to sleep. You were stubborn, however. Once you started a project, it was almost impossible for you stop until it was complete. It was nearly dawn by the time you finally finished the little doll. Well, almost finished! Everything was perfect, from the little snake that wrapped around his little hat to the tiny golden buttons on his jacket. There was only one things left to do! You grabbed the feather that you had found your box and delicately placed it inside of the small slit you had left open on the side of the doll. You thought the feather could represent a heart, something meaningful to give the doll and make it different from anything else.

Finally, you stitched the last gap closed, cutting the strong with your teeth to finally complete your gift. You stared at the doll for a moment to admire your work. And you were happy. But something weird happened. Just then, a small flash of golden light emanated from the doll but disappeared as quickly as it came. You set it down and rubbed your eyes. You looked over the doll again for another minute, but the flash of light never returned. You chalked it up to being a trick of the light. And considering the fact that you were sleep deprived, you wouldn't put it past your brain to start pulling tricks on you. You shrugged it off, taking the doll with you to bed. You drifted off to sleep easily, your eyes growing heavy as soon as your head hit the pillow. You clutched the doll close to your chest, giving it a small peck on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Lucifer," you whispered to it before letting your body fall unconscious.

****

You woke up with a start to the sound of your alarm blaring. It was 8:00 a.m. Not nearly enough sleep. You realized you hadn't moved all night; your body must have been too exhausted to toss and turn. You found yourself still holding the doll and smiled to yourself. You were still exhausted, but you knew Charlie would be sad if you missed breakfast, so with all of your remaining strength, you pulled yourself out of bed and begrudgingly began to get ready for the day. You decided you use a small tan paper you had from one of your shopping trips bag to hold the doll, thanking yourself for not just tossing it away like you normally would have.

You made your way to the kitchen knowing Charlie would be preparing breakfast for everyone. But to your surprise, when you entered through the kitchen door, it was not the princess you found at the stove, but her father. You heard him whistling a song you never heard before, a perfect melody. Your heart began to race as you walked a little bit closer to him, the smell of pancakes filling your senses.

"I can hear you, you know," Lucifer called out playfully as he flipped a pancake in the air. You couldn't help but giggle.

"Well, I'm glad," you retorted, now standing beside him. "I didn't really want to be scaring you when you’re working over a hot stove like that."

He gave you a small smirk without looking away from what he was doing. "Oh yeah, that truly would be terrible, wouldn't it?" he laughed. You knew he was more or less invincible, being an angel and all. Still, you didn't want to distract him.

"I thought Charlie was usually the one to prepare breakfast," you commented.

"Oh, she is!" Lucifer smiled. "But I told her I would handle the meals today. My little girl works so hard around here, you know? I thought it would be nice to take something of her plate...so to speak." He chuckled at his own joke as he laid the freshly made stack of pancakes on the neatly assembled row of plates.

"Do you need any help?" you asked, setting down the brown paper bag behind the kitchen island out of his view.

"Sure!" He turned around and pointed to the condiments he had laid out. "Could you hand me the syrup and the whipped cream over there?" You did as he asked and brought him the items. Lucifer began to smother the fluffy cakes in syrup and drawing little ducks with the whipped cream to top them all off. When he was finished, you and him delivered breakfast to the hotel residents. You came back to the kitchen to notice there were two plates of pancakes left.

"Oh, we forgot some," you commented. "Who did we forget?"

Lucifer only smiled. "Those are for us, silly! You have to eat too, don't you?"

In your effort to help, you completely forgot that you hadn't eaten. He handed you your plate and fork and you two stood there eating his delicious creation as you leaned against the countertop.

"These are amazing!" you tried to say with your mouth still half full.

Lucifer swallowed his last bite and gave you a toothy grin. "Why thank you! I'll be honest, I haven't cooked in a long time. I was afraid I had forgot how. But if you like them, then I know I succeeded!"

You set your finished plate down and crossed your arms. Lucifer seemed to be in more high spirits than usual. You liked seeing him like this; just happy. "If you don't mind me saying, Lucifer, your mood seems...different. N-Not in a bad way! Just...more full of energy."

He followed your motion and set his plate down behind him. "You think so?"

"Yeah," you continued. "It's nice to see. I like a happy Lucifer."

He smiled at you and left out a soft sigh. "Can I tell you something?" You tilted your head in confusion but nodded. "This is gonna sound a little weird, maybe a little bit crazy, but just hear me out, okay?"

"Of course! I never think you're crazy," you smiled. His hand found the back of his neck; he looked as though he was nervous about whatever he was about to tell you. Your heart started racing again.

"Last night, when I was sleeping...in the middle of the night, I felt something...I don't know how to say this...constricting me?" You furrowed your brow, not understanding what he was trying to say. "Maybe that's not the right word. Let's say...holding me. That sounds better."

"Holding you?" you questioned, "I'm not sure I get it."

"Okay uhh, let me think..." he placed his hand under his chin. "It almost felt like...cuddling?"

"So...someone was cuddling you last night?" you spoke in a hushed tone. You feared the worst when you heard him say those words. Lucifer noticed your change in demeanor and quickly back peddled.

"No, no, that's the thing! I was alone last night!" he reassured you. "I always sleep alone, ever since..." he shook his head as to move on and forget it. But you knew what he was going to say. "It was the strangest damn thing, in the middle of the night no less! And there was a voice that..."

Your brain refused to acknowledge Lucifer's last few words and were more focused on the fact that he was indeed alone last night. "That...certainly is odd. What could..."

Oh no...

Your eyes went wide with fear, your whole body froze, you couldn't bring yourself to finish your thought.

The doll.

The doll you made for him. You went to bed with it last night. You held it in your arms. You kissed it goodnight!

Oh no, oh no, oh no!

"Is everything alright?" Lucifer snapped you back to reality. "You look paler than me!"

You swallowed hard trying to muster up any sort of response. "Y-Yeah! Yeah, I'm totally fine! I just...I realized I promised I would help Angel with something this morning and I completely forgot! So, I'll see you later!"

You didn't give Lucifer a chance to respond as you ran out the door and grabbed the bag you had hidden from view. You didn't let up until you reached your room and slammed the door behind you. You set the bag down carefully onto your bed and gingerly removed the doll from it, using only your nails to hoist it out. You let it lay in your hand as you stared at it with panicked eyes.

"What the hell did I do?!" you asked yourself in a berating tone. "It's just a doll, it shouldn't have - hold on..." A sudden memory came flooding back to you. You called the doll emitting a strange light the night before as soon as you finished sewing the remaining stitches. Last night, you thought it was just the trick of the light; it was late and you were beyond exhausted. But that didn't explain why Lucifer was able to feel you holding him last night. The last thing you did was add "...the feather!"

That must be it! His feather must have caused the connection. Lucifer was an angel after all, a magical being of pure light. Surely anything that was a part of him would carry those same properties. You had to get rid of it! But how? You didn't know the extent of what this doll could feel. Surely stabbing it with a knife would cause him some pain...you think. Given Lucifer was more or less indestructible,  you still didn't really want to test that theory.

So, you stood there with the doll limp in your hand unsure of what to do with it next.

You couldn't bring yourself to destroy it, you put so much work into it and it would kill you to get rid of something that was meant to be an innocent gift. The best option would be to hide it, leave somewhere no one would find it and forget that it even exists. But then, the thought of Lucifer's smile crosses your mind. He was so happy this morning, happier than you've ever seen him. And it was because of you. Not that you would every dream of telling him that. But maybe...maybe it would be alright if you kept it. If you held it close to you at night. Perhaps it wasn't the most moral decision, but hey, you're in Hell, morality is not a common practice here. You brought that doll to your chest and held it tight. "I'm sorry..." you murmured to it, "If I can't tell you how I really feel, maybe this is the next best thing."

For the next several nights, you went to bed with the held tightly. And for the next several days, you couldn't bring yourself to face Lucifer. Anytime you heard him approaching or his voice getting closer, you ran the other direction. But not far enough to completely miss him. While you hid from his view, he had that same jovial expression since the day you made breakfast together. It warned your heart to know that what you were doing had a positive effect on him, even though you couldn't shake the guilt that came with that either. Sometimes he would catch you by surprise and spot you from across the hall. Lucifer would call out to you but you made it a point to get out of there as fast as possible. Strangely enough, he never sought you out after you ran, but you thought that was for the best.

One night before you went to bed, you sat up on your mattress staring at your creation resting in your palms.

"I'm a coward," you told yourself. "I should just tell him the truth. Why am I even doing this? I want him to be happy, but this isn't right. I shouldn't have put the feather in there, I should have just thrown this in my closet and not given it a second thought. But no! Now I'm avoiding him like a frightened cat because I don't have the guts to tell him..." You sighed. "One more night. Just one more. And then I'm done. I'll never think about this again." You turned off your lamp and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

****

You cracked your eyes open the next morning, the light of the red sky filling your room. You sat up and rubbed your eyes before feeling around for your doll. You couldn't find it. Your opened your eyes wider. The doll wasn't there. You leaped from the bed and quickly began turning over your covers and throwing the pillows onto the floor. Nothing. You dropped to the ground and peered under your bed to a shocking sight. You gasped.

Keekee somehow found her way into your room. And what was in her mouth other than your little Lucifer doll.

"Keekee," you called to her. "I'm gonna need that back, sweetie! That's not a toy!" Your hand reached out slowly, trying not to spook the little cat. Her tail whipped back and forth as she raised her hind legs. "Nooooooo, don't you dare Keekee, I swear I'll..." but before you could finish your threat, she bolted from under your bed and ran straight out of your room. "Damn it!"

You didn't have time to change and in that moment you didn't care. You flung the door wide open and watched Keekee turn the corner, the doll still in her tiny mouth. "Keekee, get back here!" you yelled down to her as quietly as you could. You didn't know what time it was but it was too early to be cursing at a cat. She scurried away into another hall, forcing you to chase after her. You never lost sight of her, which you thought was a little odd. Normally Keekee could disappear if she really wanted to, but at no point did she ever make an attempt to avoid you completely. It was almost like she wanted you to follow her.

After several crazy turns, you saw her duck into and open door in one of the hallways. You figured it must be a closet. She was finally trapped. You hurried over to the dark room and pushed the door shut so the cat couldn't escape easily. But now you couldn't see.

"Keekee, come here girl," you cooed. "I promise I'm not mad, I just want the doll back." You found it a little ridiculous that you were trying to barter with a cat, but it was early in the morning and your hadn't fully woken up yet. "This isn't funny anymore, you know. Please, Keekee, I need that back!"

"And why would that be?" a low voice boomed in the dark. You shrieked as the lights flashed on. After blinking a few times trying to get your eye to readjust, you realized where you ended up.

Lucifer's workshop...with Lucifer sitting at his desk, Keekee snuggled in his lap.

Shit.

The first thing you could process was that you were still in your nightgown. Instinctively, you threw your hands over your chest in shock and embarrassment.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" Lucifer apologized, quickly covering his eyes with his forearm. "H-Here!" With a snap of his fingers, a giant blanket formed around you, covering you from head to toe. You gripped it tightly to keep in from falling off your shoulders. Lucifer peaked through his arm to make sure you were decent. "Sorry again, I should have realized you wouldn't have been dressed yet." You felt your cheeks burn as he spoke. He reached down to pet Keekee who had then dropped the doll into his other hand. "Such a good girl, Keekee!" he praised her, "who's a good girl? You are! Yes you are!" He looked back up at you and cleared his throat. Lucifer stood up from his chair while Keekee leaped onto the ground, curling up into a ball, and taking a little nap under his desk.

You swallowed hard before finally finding your voice to speak. "L-Lucifer, I-I can explain! I-"

"It's alright," the fallen angel smiled. "I'm sorry about all this, but you've been avoiding me lately. I knew you'd follow Keekee once you realized she stole this from you." He held out the doll in his hand. "You made this?"

You nodded your head, refusing to make any sort of eye contact. "It was meant as a gift for you. The duck you gave me was amazing, I wanted to give you something in return, but..." you couldn't bring yourself to finish your sentence. Lucifer continued to smile softly at you. This was definitely not the reaction you were expecting from him. You had so many questions and so many apologies to give him, but there was one burning question that you needed answered first. "Did you know something like this was possible?"

Lucifer shook his head. "No, I didn't. One of my feathers is in this, right?" You nod. "It must still contain its magic despite not being attached to me anymore."

Your eyes shifted to the ground. "How did you know it was me?"

"I heard you." You raised your eyebrow, not understanding his answer. "I heard your voice. Anytime you held the doll, I heard you, as if you were whispering in my ear. At first, I didn't recognize it. But as you kept talking, the words you were saying; it all clicked. I've been trying to get your attention these last few days but you ran as soon as you saw me. Were you...afraid that I would be angry?"

You nodded again, tears now welling up in your eyes. "I-I'm sorry, Lucifer, I didn't mean to...I just..."

"Hey, hey! Please don't cry! Please?" Lucifer quickly wiped away the tears that fell down your cheek. "I'm not angry, I promise! I'm the furthest thing from it!"

You sniffled a few times, trying to even out your breathing again. "You...You're not? But why?"

Lucifer looked down at the doll in his hand and sighed. "Because...I haven't felt that kind of care in a long time. " He gently ran his hands over the small striped undershirt of the tiny Lucifer. "Hehe, it feels weird when I do it..." He looked back up at you with the most needy eyes you've ever seen. "I should have talked to you immediately after I figured out what was going on. I should have made more of an effort. But I didn't. I know that's selfish of me. But...I was afraid if I did, you would stop. Every time I tried to talk to you, you ran. And I was silently grateful that you did. It meant I would get to feel that same feeling of being held again that night. When you said that last night would be the final time, I knew I had to come clean. I couldn't let you go on thinking that what you were doing was wrong. I hope you can forgive me."

He was apologizing to you? When you were the one that made this magical doll and refused to tell him about it? "You have nothing to be sorry for, I created this, and I didn't tell you what was happening when I learned what I'd done. This is my fault."

"Can I see your hand?" Lucifer asked, almost as if he was ignoring the blame you were putting on yourself. You did as he asked and outstretched your hand. He placed the doll flat in your palm. "You're very skilled, you know. You did a wonderful job capturing my good side," he chuckled. "I know this was originally meant for me, but I want you to keep it. What you do with it is up to you." You remained perfectly as he spoke. "If you want to forget that this ever happened, I would completely understand. You can put it on a shelf or hide it in a closet, and this will never be brought up again." His palms rested on top of the doll and the bottom of your hand. "But..." his grip tightened ever so slightly, his claws digging into the fabric.

"You don't want that, do you?" his thoughts leaving your mouth. Lucifer didn't respond, he didn't even look up as you asked him.

That was all the answer you needed.

You pulled away and hid the doll under your blanket, giving him a soft smile. "I'll keep it...you safe. I promise. If it's what you really want."

"I do." The king couldn't help but beam at you. He wrapped his arms around you, constricting your own. He pulled away once he realized how hard he had been squeezing you. "Sorry," he laughed lightly. "Umm, by the way, i-if you ever need me, you can use the doll to talk to me if I'm not around. It can be about anything..." he leaned in closer and closer to you until you felt the light brush of his lips against your cheek. "And I do mean anything. I don't want to, you know, assume anything, but there had to be a reason why you went to bed with the doll every night. Some of the things you said...it sounded like you had more that you wanted to say. I just don't want you to be afraid. We're friends after all, right?"

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you listened to his words. You tried to speak but only air left your lips. Lucifer only giggled as you watched his cheeks turn a pale yellow. You couldn't believe what he was inferring. it couldn't be possible. And yet here you were with Lucifer himself practically begging for more of your attention.

"I...I don't know what to say," you finally managed to choke out. "This is all a little overwhelming, Lucifer."

"Then don't say anything," Lucifer responded. "Take all the time you need. I hope to see you soon," With a snap of his fingers, you were engulfed in sparkling red flame. You shielded your eyes for a brief moment. But after opening them again, you found yourself back in your bedroom. You walked over to your open door and quietly closed it, sinking to the floor afterwards. There was a lot you needed to process. The blanket that covered you fell to the floor as you ogled at the doll in your hand.

You hugged it tighter than you ever had before.

****

The rest of the day was perfectly quiet, mostly because you did see Lucifer for the rest of it. You cautiously approached Charlie and asked about him. She let you know that her dad told her he needed his privacy today and that no one should worry. Her words didn't comfort you like you hoped they would. Was Lucifer okay? Did this whole ordeal cause him to isolate himself. Did he change his mind about it? Your heart sunk at the thought. You needed to talk to him again, but you weren't sure you could face him. But...there was another option.

Later that night, you threw on your robe to get ready for a nice long bath. After the day you had, you needed it. You glanced over at the little stuffed doll sitting on your night stand, now hearing your own heartbeat in your ears. It was now or never; you wouldn't let your nerves get the better of you anymore. You took a hold of it and sat down on your bed, now extra aware of  your hand movements.

"Lucifer, can you hear me?" You asked. There was no response. "I guess that was a stupid question. Hey, umm, I wanted to thank you. For today, I mean. I was so afraid that this situation would sully our friendship so badly that you'd never want to talk to me again. I hope you're doing alright. And I hope Keekee's teeth didn't hurt you too badly. I'm rambling now, aren't I?" In that moment, you could almost hear Lucifer's laugh.

The grip on you had on it tightened ever so slightly as you gathered the courage for what you really wanted to say. "You were right before. When you thought I had more to say to you. I-I did. But I didn't know how you would take it if I ever told you. I was afraid of your reaction. And your rejection. But...I don't have the strength to tell you in person." You brought the doll closer to your face, your lips ghosting over the fabric. "I love you," you whispered before planting a small peck to its small cheek.

Silence.

Your breath heaved slightly before setting the doll back down. You closed your eyes and let out a heavy sigh. It was done. There was nothing more you can do. You stood up and headed straight for the tub. You needed that bath now more than ever.

Knock knock knock

You froze in place for a few seconds, a little bit frightened by the sudden noise that emanated from your bedroom door.

Knock knock knock knock knock

The knocking on the door became more eager. You hurried over to answer after waiting a little too long to answer. Silently, you opened the door.

Lucifer was standing there in the hallway with the brightest smile.

"I love you too. I only wish you would have told me sooner," the ruler of Hell whispered as he gripped your hands. "Because then I could have done this!"

With little warning, Lucifer brought his lips to yours. You sat there in shock, eyes wide, before quickly succumbing to his temptations. You let your eyes lids fall as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer while his hands found your waist. A delicate kiss to your soft lips, over and over he lightly parted his own as he continuously nipped at you. He pulled away, staring back with his half-lidded eyes. You could have sworn he was drunk of the kiss the way his face formed into a goofy grin. He giggled just a little before widening his eyes in shock and stepping away.

"I'm sorry! I don't know how I keep catching you at the worst times!" he exclaimed now looking at the ceiling to avoid your gaze. You realized what had caused him to get so flustered. You looked down and remembered that you were in your robe.

And only your robe.

You blushed hard, not being able to stop yourself from laughing. "No, no, it's okay! This one's on me, I shouldn't have called you dressed like this."

"But you didn't know I was going to pop over here! My fault, I don't wanna hear any 'buts'!" Lucifer turned his head to the side still doing his best not to look at you.

"Well, I was just getting ready for a bath..." you began.

"O-Oh, yeah, of course! No worries! I really should have thought this through, I just got really excited and I...Anyway! We can talk about this tomorrow! So, I'll just be-"

"My bath is big enough for two." You blurted out without thinking.

At that moment, you could hear a pin drop. What was only a few moments felt like an eternity of silence. Your first instinct was to shut the door and lock it as fast as possible, but your body refused to budge. You just stood there horrified at the words that had escaped your mouth.

Lucifer wasn't faring much better. You watched his whole face turn a bright yellow that spread rapidly over his painted cheeks. And...was he shaking?

"I don't know why I said that," you mumbled almost incoherently. "if you need me, I'll be drowning myself now." You began to close the door before Lucifer caught it.

"I don't want you to drown," he spoke softly with just a hint of humor in his voice. "I better stay to make sure you're safe."

His words shot threw you like an arrow and your body instinctively opened the door once more to let your visitor in. The implications of his acceptance of your accidental offer crashed over you as soon as Lucifer closed the door behind him. He gave you a sheepish smile, his face's yellow tint had yet to rescind.

"I-I'll uhh, I'll draw the bath then," you squeaked and scurried over to the bathroom without another word. You tossed a towel for him onto your bed and hid yourself in the next room as the water began to fill the tub. You felt as though you could pass out at any moment; the crushing anxiety mixed with your burning desire to be as close to him as physically possible was a terrifying yet tantalizing feeling. To counter your worry, you grabbed some bottled soap from the counter and mixed it in with the steaming water, creating thousands of little white bubbles that threatened to spill over onto the floor. You would worry about any mess made later; right now, you wanted to savor this moment as much as you possibly could. Disrobing, you stepped into the now full tub and sunk down into the soothing water. Your heart was still beating a mile a minute but the water did half a sort of calming effect on you.

Knock knock knock

Well, that didn't last long.

"May I join you now?" Lucifer's muffled voiced called out.

A few quick deep breaths later, you cleared your throat, praying your voice wouldn't reveal how utterly stressed you were. "Y-Yes, come in!" Perhaps a poor choice of words, but you didn't have time to think about that when you caught your first glimpse of a nearly naked Lucifer. His alabaster skin looked as if he had been carved from the finest marble, his shoulders were broad compared to his relatively slim physique. Your eyes trailed to his blackened arms and hands that perfectly contrasted the rest of his skin. He was the epitome of perfection. The man closed the door behind him and made his way over to you.

"H-Hi," Lucifer stuttered.

"Heeeyyyyy there..." you rolled your eyes. "Listen, we can agree this is just a little awkward, right?"

Lucifer chuckled. "Maybe just a little bit. How's the water?"

"Join me and see for yourself! I'll just umm..." you turned your head and covered the side of your face with your hand, assuring you wouldn't see anything once he removed his towel.

"I'm not shy, hon." You just knew if you turned around, he would have the most prideful smirk on his face.

"You should get in before I change my mind," you playfully shot back.

You heard his towel hit the floor immediately. A fiery heat burned your core as the water shifted when he made his way in the tub. You closed your eyes for good measure so that you wouldn't be tempted to make this even more awkward than it already was. As soon as the water stopped moving, you took that as a sign that it was safe to look again. You turned your head to see Lucifer was sitting back against the other side playfully running his hands through the soapy bubbles that were floating on the surface.

"I love the bubbles, a very nice touch!" he commented.

"Thanks," you murmured. "You're sitting the wrong way though."

"Huh?"

"W-Well," you cleared your throat, "how am I supposed to clean you if you’re sitting so far away?"

"Oh...oh! Yeah, you're right!" Lucifer quickly spun his body around, his back now facing you. You spread your legs wider for him to scoot up closer to you, but he remained closer to the center of the tub. "Is this better?"

"Still a little too far..." The time for embarrassment had long gone. You grabbed a hold of Lucifer's hips and brought his body nearly flush between your thighs, earning a yelp from the startled angel. "What happened to not being shy, hmm?" you taunted. You could have sworn a little whimper escaped his throat.

Despite its frigid appearance, his body was warmer than you expected. You didn't let your hands linger on his waist for too long nor did you want to think about how his ass was mere inches away from your yearning womanhood. You forced yourself out of the trance and instead grabbed the washcloth and body soap from the small table and began to pour some of the liquid into the small towel, rubbing it between your fingers. "You promise to tell me if this becomes too much?"

Lucifer turned his head with a soft look on his face. "I promise that it won't be." You hummed, slowly bringing the cloth to his skin. He shuddered from the contact.

"Are you alright, Lucifer?"

He exhaled deeply. "I'm alright. More than alright! I'm just...really enjoying this. Thank you..."

You didn't waist anymore time scrubbing the rest of his back clean. Moving to his shoulders, down each arms, then reaching around the front to get to his chest. Without realizing, your head found its way to one of his shoulders, your chin resting comfortably. A soft sigh left your lips.

"Hey, uhh, y-you're going a little low there..." Lucifer said, his voice snapping you out of your haze. Your hand somehow drifted below the water and ended up resting on his lower stomach. Once you realized where you were heading, you pulled your arms away immediately.

"Sorry!" you nearly shouted. "I-I wasn't paying attention! Shit, I'm sorry!"

Lucifer shifted again, now facing you and gave you a small peck. "Sweetheart, it's alright, really! You don't need to apologize." Lucifer took the rag from your hand and made his way back to where he first started against the other side of the tub. "Here, let me return the favor. It's your turn now." With mild hesitation, you accepted his help wordlessly, turning your back to him as he did for you. Afraid of getting any closer, you stopped before any noticeable contact had been made. "I need you closer, dear," he whispered in your ear before pulling you against his chest with minimal effort.

You felt everything in that moment; his hands resting on your hips, his hot breath against your sensitive skin, and most distracting of all, his very noticeable hard on against the small of your back. It took everything you had to not scream like you wanted to. Knowing that this perfect creator was turned on by you made your heart flutter like a butterfly. Your body begged your to shift, if only a little bit, just to feel him rub against you. But you fought it against it furiously, digging your finger into the sides of his thighs to keep yourself grounded. The way your body tensed caused Lucifer to push you away from him slightly.

"Too much?" he asked, concerned that he may have crossed a line.

"No." you shook your head. You pushed yourself back against him, the friction sending a shiver up your spine. The low moan from Lucifer was magical, almost hypnotic. You needed to hear more. But before you could shift again, you felt the soft texture of the washcloth against your back.

"Good," his voice causing goosebumps to form on your arms, "now let's get you clean." He mimicked your movements, gliding the cloth against your soft skin, starting from the top and working his way down methodically. He moved to your shoulders, first the left and the right. Every muscle in your body just wanted to relax into him; you only wanted to float in this water with him for the rest of the night. But you were snapped out of your daydream when you noticed his movements had stopped. You looked down and saw his hand resting on your collarbone. It took only a moment to realize why the devil himself became a statue.

Lucifer swallowed hard behind you. "Am I allowed to...can I...?"

With a small giggle, you took the cloth from his hand and tossed it to the ground. Pulling your hands out of the water, you guided his own hands to your breasts. Lucifer gasped lightly but didn't pull away once your released his hands. His claws felt so nice on your bare skin that you let out a gasp of your own. "I think we're past the point of modesty, Lucifer. Go ahead, I-I want you to touch me."

Your permission was all he needed. Within a second, the king of Hell began to massage your breasts with the most delicate of touches, kneading them like fresh dough. His mouth sank down onto your pulse, sucking on it feverishly. A small whimper escaped your throat as he began to roll your nipples between his fingers. The man was intoxicated and you were the cause.

"You're too good to me, you know that?" he breathed against your skin. "Do you know how long I've wanted to tell you how beautiful you are? How enchanting? How irresistible?" One of his hands made its way down your side to your hip, sinking beneath the water and resting on your inner thigh. "To hold you like this is a dream come true."

"Lucifer, please..." you begged. Your hand found his once more and guided it down to where you needed him most. Once his fingers reached your folds, you couldn't help but whimper. In no time, he began circling your clit gingerly while his other hand worked at your breast. It was too much and not enough at the same time. You opened your legs as wide as your tub would allow to give him more access to your needy hole.

"Tell me what you want, love," he whispered in your ear. "Just say the word and it's yours."

"Touch me..." you pleaded.

You felt a finger slip into you effortlessly, a broken moan falling from your lips. You turned your head and crashed your lips into his, your desire for him only growing with every passing second. Another one of his fingers slid into you, his digits gliding in and out of your pussy with ease. He moaned into your mouth as he continued to pump his digits into your cunt, his pace increasing slowly with every movement.

"Need more of you..." he pleaded. "Please..." His fingers refused to let up. The coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter. You cried out in pure elation when you felt the coil finally give way, cumming hard and pulsing around his fingers that had yet to slow down. Once you could breathe normally against, he at last retreated his fingers from you, giving you a small peck on your forehead.

"T-Thank you," you mumbled out. "I think we're both pretty clean now, wouldn't you say."

"I'd say your right," Lucifer agreed. In a flash, Lucifer managed to stand up and scoop you up effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. You let out a small yelp when he picked you up and set you down on the bathroom floor, retrieving a towel from the nearby rack and sliding it up and down your body before using it on himself. "But I think this is all for naught," he continued as he guided you back to your bed, "because I think we may need another bath, I'm afraid."

He laid you down and quickly shoved his heads between your legs. You realized what he was about to do and sat up before he could go any further. "Wait, wait, hold on now!" Lucifer's eyes looked back at you with concern. "I don't think this is fair! What about you? I haven't even touched you yet!"

Lucifer gaze softened. "Oh, hon, I appreciate it but you don't have to worry about me! I-I'm fine, really! I just...I really need to taste you... Please, I'll do anything!"

You closed your legs and folded your arms over your chest, earning a tiny whimper from the man in front of you. "I seem to recall that I could have anything I wanted," you teased. Lucifer nodded and stuck out his lower lip to pout. You rolled your eyes and smiled, crawling over to him. "I have an idea. But you need to lay down for me. Can you do that?"

He did as you said almost instantly, his head hitting the back of the pillows with a soft thud. At this point you couldn't help but stare at his twitching cock. It was beautiful; thicker and longer than you might have expected from someone of his stature. Not that you would ever complain. You had to hold yourself back from letting out a whine that threatened to make you sound even more pathetic. You closed your eyes and crawled over the devil beneath you. You leaned down to kiss him again, his tongue not holding back from pushing through your lips and entangling it with yours. You pulled away and smiled unabashedly at him, admiring his perfect face and his insanely adorable blush. Without a word, you turned your body so your pussy hovered inches away from his mouth.

"S-Shit..." you heard Lucifer mutter under his breath. Knowing you had this much of an effect on him gave you the confidence you needed to grab ahold of his aching member. Lucifer couldn't help but cry out.

"This way we both get what we want," you told him before giving his tip a tiny little kitten lick. The precum from his shaft had already begun spilling onto your hand; you couldn't help but grin. "Someone is needyyyyYYYY F-FUCK!"

Lucifer pulled your hips down onto his face without warning, his tongue working at your slick cunt like a man starved. HIs claws dug into the sides of your body, the pain mixing with the undeniable pleasure his mouth gave you. Not to be outdone, you sunk your mouth down on his cock, licking and sucking at the tip. Lucifer moaned into your pussy at the feeling of your tongue. Both of your lust-filled sounds filled your room as you each sought to bring the other to their climax. You wouldn't let him win. You couldn't.

Your head bobbed up and down his girthy shaft over and over, taking in as much of him as you could. But with your growing pace came Lucifer's own counter move as his forked tongue pushed even further into you than you thought possible. You were both coming undone impossibly fast. Even with your head fuzzy from the tantalizing feeling of his mouth, your hand and mouth worked together in tandem to push him over the edge. Lucifer cursed against your skin as you felt his hot cum finally fill your waiting mouth. But it only took him a few seconds more to bring you to another orgasm after he begun to tease your clit over and over and over, refusing to give you any sort of reprieve.

You swallowed as much of his as you could before letting go of his cock with a satisfying pop with some of his release dripping down towards your chin. You wiped your fingers against the remains and made sure he watched as you licked them clean. Something in Lucifer must have snapped because the next thing you knew, you had been flipped down onto the mattress with your wrists pinned at your sides. You blinked and stared up into Lucifer now glowing red eyes; his. His demonic horns had burst from his temple, his angelic wings appeared and began flapping behind him, and his tail whipped back and forth before coiling itself around your waist. You gulped, your pussy begging to be filled by the man above you.

"Sorry," Lucifer apologized. "I got a little too excited there." He freed your hands and brought them down to your hips. "D-Do you want to keep going? We can stop if this is too much and-"

You cut him off with a soft kiss to his lips. "It's alright, Luci. I want this. I want you."

Lucifer smiled and kissed you again, stroking his still hard cock in the process. When he pulled away, you felt the tip graze your slick folds. That feeling alone was enough to make you shudder with anticipation. With final nod from you, Lucifer at last began to sink into you. You winced at the pain you felt as your body forced itself to stretch for him until he finally bottomed out inside of you. The pain slowly faded as he waited patiently, smiling at you the entire time.

"Y-You can move now," you squeaked out.

Lucifer nodded, shifting his hips just enough to pull out of you almost all the way before thrusting back in, earning a wanton moan from you. He started slow for you, knowing his size was a bit much to handle. But as your body relaxed, his picked up the pace. Faster and faster until both of you were complete and utter moaning messes.

"F-Fuck...feel so good, love," Lucifer sighed as his wings began to twitch. "S-So good. So perfect...I'm really happy y-you made that doll. I-I know everything didn't go exactly as planned but...GAAHHH FFFFUCK...I think it all turned out f-for the better, don't you think?"

Your moans turned into giggles as he continued to rut into you relentlessly. "You're s-such a dork," you laughed as your legs wrapped around him to force him to keep him as deep inside you as possible.

"B-But I'm your dork," he joked back. "Sorry love, but you're stuck with m-me now!"

"G-Good," you responded breathlessly, his hips thrusting into you even faster than before. "Then we c-can be dorks together!"

"P-Perfect!" Your cunt sucked in his cock as you felt the coil in your stomach tightening again. By the noises he was making, you can only assume Lucifer was almost at his limit too. "Darling...c-can't...I'm close...f-fuck...where-"

"Inside!" you screamed. "FuckfuckfuckFUCK LUCIFER!" Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your wanton cries echoing off the corners of your room. It only took a few more thrusts for Lucifer to follow suit and spill his seed inside of you, his cum painting your walls a pearlescent white was he pulled you in close for another passionate kiss.

The king crashed on top of you after pulling out of you, his unearthly features retreating except for his tail which remained firmly wrapped around you. You smiled as he laid his head on your chest, his breathing labored and shaky. You stroked his soft blond hair as he hummed in approval. He looked up at you with adoring eyes and stuck out his snake-like tongue.

"What's that look for?" you asked him.

"Oh nothing," Lucifer sighed, "I'm just looking at the prettiest woman in all of Hell is all!"

You pushed his face away and laughed. "Yep, still a dork."

"But you love me!" he said gleefully, rolling onto the bed and pulling you into a tight embrace.

"I do, I really do. I wish I would have told you sooner."

Lucifer kissed the top of your forehead. "Don't worry, hon, I know now. And that's all that matters. Besides, I finally get to hold you now! And wow, does it feel like heaven!"

You buried your face in his chest and squeezed him tight. "Well, I can say for certain that you feel much better than the doll. Would you...like to stay over tonight?"

"Of course I would love," he spoke softly. "I have you in my arms now, and I don't intend on ever letting you go."

~~~~

THIS TOOK WAY TOO FUCKING LONG, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANYWAY!!!!!!!!!!!

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[star2fishmeg]

tattoo blurb in honor of lukeys birthday,, perhaps u get it as a birthday gift for him and he can’t keep himself together

Best bday present ever, in my opinion. This is longer than I expected oops. Happy birthday Luke!

You're supposed to meet everyone at the bar with Luke to celebrate his birthday in ten minutes, but instead, you're hurling yourself through his apartment complex with shopping bags and sweat dripping down your back. You were so late, but the traffic wasn't your fault and you had to give Luke his present before you left.

When Luke does answer the door, it's in a panic, eyes wide and he's pushed out the way as you barrel through his place, straight into the bedroom as he's left following you like a shadow, throwing his head back and groaning in irritation.

"Y/n, where were you, we're so late." He walks into his bedroom, voice laced with concern as he watches you dump your bags and remove your shoes, "Everyone is waiting."

"I'm so sorry, the traffic was awful," you pant, pulling your hoodie over your head, "but I have to give you your present before we leave."

"Can it wait? You still need to get ready-"

"-No, I've been waiting weeks for this," you point to the end of his bed, "sit."

He does as he'd told, and you turn away from him. Luke checks his watch impatiently, debating on whether he should text Jack about the further delay. He can't be too harsh on you though, usually, you were early to everything, usually, you were the one waiting on him to sort himself out. He looks up, jaw slacking and suddenly all the bubbling irritation dissolved into heat flushing to his neck, that tingly feeling surging through his body like electricity when his eyes lay on the sight of you pulling your jeans off, flashing a view of your ass clad in his favourite lace panties. Fantasies flood through his mind, potential gifts he's dreamed about in the upcoming weeks, ones that make his jeans tight as your shirt is discarded across his room, not that it was part of the gift, but it was going to come off anyway.

A grin crawls onto your lips upon hearing the way his breathing hitches. You've been itching to show him, tired of coming up with excuses as to why you couldn't sleep over, seeing it in the mirror and knowing that it'll drive Luke up the wall, in a good way, of course.

"Babe, you can't just do that without warning, you know what it does-" he begins, hands running over your thighs and pulling you closer between his legs. You giggled at him, not the cute giggle that sounds like summer sunsets and picnics on the docks, but the giggle that raises sirens in his head that he should brace himself for your antics.

You slowly spin to face him, excitement in your stomach and hands landing on his shoulders. Luke's grip on your hips tightens, his eyes flickering over the '43' tattooed on your bikini line, healed but tender and he feels his heart hammer in his chest. A quiet 'fuck' slips past his lips, thumb tracing gently over the ink.

"Happy birthday, Lu." You coo, bringing your hand to his hair and threading your fingers through his curls just the way he likes it, the way that makes his body melt into your touch.

He swears again. He's on your body. Forever. You've claimed him as yours and everyone will see that over the summer. You've declared your love, faith, and hope to him, making his chest bloom with joy. His lips tug into a grin and a lewd warmth pools to his core. He's looking at the hottest thing you've ever done. It's so hot he can't find the words, they're jumbled in his brain and the only clear thoughts swirling is how he never wants you to wear anything ever again, he wants to see it all the time. He wants to mark it, kiss it, and show you how much he loves it. How much he loves you.

"What do you think?" you ask, teasingly as his gaze remains on the tattoo, locked in a trance and you know exactly what's on his mind. What's got him worked up, ears tinted pink and knee bouncing.

He fumbles over his words, failing to formulate a coherent sentence, but eventually pulls himself together just enough to communicate exactly how you've lured him into a filthy paradise of consuming lust that sends him into overdrive. He doesn't look up when he speaks lowly, long fingers toying under your waistband, "You think I make you cum in the next five minutes?"

"I think you can do it in less."

[thatnonameuser]

what type of yandere do you think skully would be? ...or would he be a darling 😈😈🔥🔥

So far because of the AU, I'm making him a yandere. But.. * Insert Crowley Voice Here *  For I am gracious, I’ll give you both. 

Skully is from a time where yandere behaviors weren’t exactly accepted. At that point, it was during the halfway point between acceptable and a criminal act. At that point in time, the courtship was built on affection and darlings during that time had the right to reject their yanderes. (Not without consequences, but that’s a story for another time.) 

As a result, Skully is a gentleman yandere. Polite, affectionate and obsessive, with the same amount of love he has for Halloween. 

As canon Skully is, he’s just looking for excuses to kiss you. But he slowly goes from kissing your hand like a suave gentleman, to kissing your cheek, your lips, neck, trying to make out with you, et cetera. The longer you’re around him, the less he’ll be able to restrain his originally well-tamed urges. 

In a way, he’s also a delusional yandere. Because of his affection, he perceives everything he’ll do as an act of love. Kidnapping you is just the start of a date, gifts with dubious and bloody history are acts of love, drugging and killing people is just removing possible threats to your relationship. 

One thing that’s in your favor though, Skully isn’t a big fan of change. And he’s still adjusting to the fact that all the yanderes of the present are so okay with things that once got people imprisoned or executed back in the day. So he’ll try to save you from them. If you end up staying with him, he’ll be very relaxed as a yandere, allowing you a lot of freedom. 

(One funny thought I had was all the boys accidentally accelerating the acceptance of yandere behaviors with how they behave towards you during the trip and Skully learning from it.)

Skully, as a darling, is much more relaxed about the yandere thing. Same rules about darling’s being able to reject yanderes in his day still apply. 

So his original resistance to deviate from his Halloween traditions is amplified by the strangeness of the other yanderes, because how could they be so calm with something so horrible, AND change the sanctity of Halloween?

If MC is also a darling, then let her breathe a sigh of relief. With how Skully gently kidnaps her, she might be chill and miss the friendship between the two when she inevitably has to leave.  

If MC is a yandere, then well that kidnapping may be a little rough. Specifically, they might be turned into a pumpkin after all, for Skully to feel safe enough to perform the rest of his plan.

(Regardless of which MC is, then Skully will end up doing the opposite of that first thought. In fact, Skully will end up delaying the acceptance of yandere behavior with the spread of the new and better Halloween.)

I hope this was good. I wasn't really sure about it for a bit.

[artists-ally]

{Confess Your Lust} Reader x Azriel

You all can thank @riddlesb1tch for this. I have no regrets. It's just pure filth, but I know my whores like this 🥰 Rose this is all for you so you're the only one I care about liking it. Hope you all enjoy, title is from this song. highly suggest listening to while reading btw

Word Count: 4,682

Warnings: SMUT. Minor Dom/Sub concepts, bondage, degrading, teasing, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation, Az is your pretty little good boy and you're gonna let him know ;)

Tagging: @riddlesb1tch @thelov3lybookworm @librafairy @needylilgal022 @bubybubsters @harrystylesfan2686 @justdreamstars @cyrygher @berryzxx @thehighladywrites @xaithings

Summary: Azriel requested a very special birthday present. And who were you to tell him no.

~~~~~~~

“Cassian, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve gotten me a dagger for my birthday.”

“Yup,” he grins. 

“You know it’ll never suffice to Truth Teller, right?”

“An Illyrian can hope,” Cassian sighs, a relaxed smile on his face. “I know they all go in a drawer at the bottom of your dresser.”

Azriel rolls his eyes, but thanks his brother anyway. He appreciates them, but they hold no candle to the pretty piece of steel sat on his thigh.

Mor had gifted him a new pair of boots and a matching belt to go with them. They were of sleek leather, polished so well he could see his distorted reflection in the curve of the toe. He might have to set them aside for a special occasion so he doesn’t ruin them with training and missions. 

Rhys and Feyre gifted him a custom made weapons display case. It had racks and shelves for all his favorites, as well as drawers for the ones Cassian constantly gifted. It was complete with a throwing pad on the side to practice different strikes as well as a sharpening stone. He’d never admit to anyone but himself, but it made the back of his throat string. 

Amren promised him a night out at Rita’s, and coming from her it was quite generous. 

Buy my gift… it was something to be shared between my mate and no one else. They didn’t need to know the secret behind the look in my eye. It was waiting at our newly constructed home, just like I promised. Just like he had asked. 

“That’s it from us, I don’t see another one here,” Cassian looked around the rubble of discarded bags and decorative paper, not finding any other boxes. “Did Yn already give you hers?”

“No,” I said, sipping my glass of wine. “It’s back at the house. But he already knows what it is.”

“He does?”

“He does?” Azriel furrowed his brows, clearly not remembering the conversation the two of us had several months ago. 

Azriel sauntered into the dining hall, hands fisted at his sides, wings tucked in close. “Can I talk to you?”

The sudden spring of worry in his eyes made me put down my book, following him to a nearby couch to sit on. 

“What’s up, my love?” I asked tenderly, locking a piece of hair behind his ear. 

“If I asked you to do something for me- to me… would you?” 

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Az,” I cocked my head to the side, getting a better look at his eyes. Those wicked shadows blocked some of his tan skin, so I gently nudged them out of the way.

“I umm- I was thinking that we might change some things up. I’ve had a lot of thoughts about these things and I want them. And I want to see if you could want them too.”

“Okay,” I nodded, waiting for a response.

“I want to try using some toys. On me.”

Well, that is not where I thought this was going to go at all. Utterly shocked, but not opposed to the idea, I asked him to elaborate. And by the Cauldron did he. He went into detail of what he wanted, why he wanted it, how he wanted it… it sounded like a dream come true. 

“I’m so happy you told me about this. Yes, I’d be more than happy to fulfill these fantasies with you,” I smiled eagerly. “I promise I’ll make it special for you. Just like you did for me.”

Azriel still didn’t seem to get it, so I flashed a mental image down the bond, watching his brows unfurrow and raise up his face. It was almost ridiculous how far they went up. Nobody else said anything as they watched the interaction. 

“Oh.”

“Oh… what? What did she get you?” Rhys prodded his brother, Azriel not breaking our eye contact. I just smirked, winking in his direction before turning back to the wine. Mor spared me a curious glance, but I gave away no details. The others didn’t need to know what happened behind those closed doors. 

“Just something to play with later,” Azriel swallowed, throat working down and then back up. Only I would be able to note the change in his scent. “Time for pastries?”

I giggled as he deflected the question and moved onto another topic. It was another hour or so before anyone made a move to leave, but as soon as Cassian rolled out, his hands were all over me. 

“Are you being serious?” His hands were cupping my cheeks, a desperate plea to his voice. 

“Of course, my shadow. Go on up, get yourself ready. I’ll be up in a little bit, okay? Send word when you’re ready,” I instruct, moving out of his reach to begin cleaning up some of the mess left behind from the small party. 

“Won’t you come do it for me?” His strong arms wrapped around me, the soft scent of his wings wafting in the air. “I could really use your help.”

“I thought you wanted me to take control?”

“I do, that’s why I-”

“Didn’t I give you an order?” 

“Y-Yes, I just wanted-”

“Then go. Don’t make me ask again, Azriel.” 

“Yes my lady,” he obediently replied. I watched him go up the stairs, shadows lingering behind before darting after him. Once I heard the door click softly shut, I continued my work around the living area and the kitchen. I didn’t have any desire to be cleaning, I just needed to build up some tension. For this to work as he wanted to, I needed to do the unpredictable. Which would be really fucking difficult since he is basically progammed to know every turn and corner. 

I threw out trash, packed dishes in the sink, scrubbed them clean and put them away. About five minutes ago he sent a shadow curling my way, enticing me up towards the play room. I ignored the urgency of the call, deciding I’ll go when I want to. And he’s just going to have to wait. 

Azriel isn’t the most patient creature in this world, that’s for damn sure. 

Making him wait this long would be torture. 

Precisely how I wanted it to be. 

Finally, after another ten-ish minutes of stalling, I make my way upstairs. Purposefully being as loud as I can without stomping up the stairs. My heels click gently across the hard stone. As I near the door, I am hit with a wave of arousal coming from the room. It’s thick and tastes devine on the back of my tongue.

The sight of him sitting in the chair, wings facing me, arms ready and waiting behind his back is a marvelous sight. I can’t help but smile. He looks so pretty. 

“I thought you forgot about me,” Azriel said, a smirk in his tone. “Is it time for my present yet?”

“So impatient, all of you Illyrians,” I snorted, rolling my eyes as I made my way to the wall in front of him. Hung up, there were various toys and playthings. All could be used for pleasure or pain, depending on the mood. “You’ll get it when I say you do. Give me your wrists.”

I held the bundle of rope between my palms, stalking back over to Azriel in his chair. As I pass around to where his hands are locked behind his back, I make sure to tell him he’s allowed to safeword if and whenever he needs to. 

“I know, my love, thank you. I know you’ll take care of me,” he smiles gently, offering his lips.

“You asked to be overwhelmed, so I’m not going to stop unless you give me the word. I want you begging me to stop, remember? You’ll sound so pathetic and pretty when you whimper,” I smiled sickly sweet, pecking his lips with my own. “Ready?”

He gave a firm nod, hazel eyes locking on my body as I pulled away.

Back at the wall, I open the drawer in the chest, finding those two boxes I hid away weeks ago. How he never found them, I’ll never know, but I’m so glad. One was a vibrating cuff. The other was a dildo. 

After taking them out of the box and sanitizing them, I left them there for Az to see, but not to use yet. No, I wanted the anticipation to do the work for me. Rather than giving him what he wanted, I made my way over to him and trailed my fingers around his frame. 

Every flick of my finger sent goosebumps slithering across his skin. Up his neck… down his arms. That sensitive place between his wings twitched as I trailed through it, delicately applying pressure on the muscle. 

“Fuck, baby you… you can’t tease me like that.”

“I think I can do whatever I want,” I replied. “You are tied up at my mercy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Good boy,” I smiled, threading my fingers through his thick hair, latching onto his scalp. I pulled to the side, watching his body move with the force. His chest rose and fell, I could feel his heartbeat down the bond. Wicked. Powerful. Anticipating my next move. 

I slid into his lap, feeling just how much he needed me through his pants. I leaned just far enough away that he couldn't capture my mouth with his. He tried twice to kiss me, but each time I leaned away, a sick smile on my lips. 

Azriel scoffed, “I just wanted a kiss.”

“I know you do, but I didn’t give you permission, did I?” I mocked, leaning in closer and closer. “Your pleasure belongs to me tonight. I decide when you get what you’ve earned. And all you’ve done so far is complain that I haven’t given you anything. That’s not how good boys behave is it?”

I can see the fire in his eyes, those two sides of his personality fighting each other head on. This desire inside him to be taken care of, to be set free by my control versus that blistering need to be in control of everything. 

I’ll break him free with my bare hands if I have to. 

“Don’t be shy, my shadow. You can say it, it’s okay. No one can hear you besides me. Unless you want everyone to know just how much you need me.”

“I’ll behave,” he recites quickly. “Please.”

“Look at you, begging for it already,” I smirked, standing up from my place in his lap. He groans, cock clearly straining against the fabric covering his legs. 

I circle him. Like a predator to its prey. “You look so pretty tied up, my shadow.”

“When I asked you to play with me, I didn’t expect to be tortured.”

“Tortured?” I spun around to see his hazy eyes. “Oh, my sweet love, I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already begging? Don’t be so pathetic, Azriel. You can take more, can’t you?” I nodded his head for him, fingers fisted in his hair. “Yes you can, good boy.”

I quickly walked around to see his pink cheeks, heated with humiliation. I had no intention of going easy on him the first time. 

In a swift motion, I sheathed the blade at his thigh, cutting away his pants, leaving him just in his undershorts. He gasped, eyes going wide as roughly pulled them down his hips. “Y-Yn what are you-”

“Quiet,” I demanded. 

Azriel shut his mouth, panting heavily as I fisted his cock in my hand. His head tipped back in pleasure, and I almost let myself enjoy it for a second before I ripped my hand away. Those fierce hazel eyes were back on mine in an instant, silently begging for more. He made a wounded sound when I walked away, grabbing the vibrating cuff from the dresser. 

“Let’s play a game, okay? I put this on, and you aren’t going to cum. If you take it like the good boy I know you are, then I’ll give you something else to play with. If you cum… well, you’re just not going to stop.”

Azriel looks genuinely afraid. Like I might break him if I go through with this. I’ve never wanted to break something so badly just to put it back together again. 

I kneel in front of him, spreading his knees apart. I can see the generous amount of gel he’s used to work himself open for later. His body is glowing, vibrating with tension. I spit on his dick, enjoying the sight of him flinching as it hits his hot skin. 

Being extra agonizing, I blow some cool air on his tip to really watch him jump. I giggle, sliding the cuff over his length. The pale blue color is a stark contrast to his bright red skin. There is a button near the bass to turn it on and to switch the intensity. The gentle purr of the toy comes to life with a quick tap, and Azriel damn near falls out of the chair.

“Relax,” I say, forcing his knees down. I looked up at him, chest unmoving as he held his breath. “Breath Azriel.”

“I- I can-can’t,” he chokes. “Fuck Yn, it’s too much.”

“It’s only on the first setting, you’ll get used to it. In thirty seconds I’m going to put it on the next setting,” I warn, watching the way his body quivers slightly. 

My mates eyes are slammed shut, teeth clenched together. His cock gently pulses with the vibe, slick trickling down his shaft in a steady stream. To be a little extra mean, I run my tongue up the length.

“Oh gods Yn…” he pleads, head tossed back. His chest is on display, perfectly cut muscles constricting with every breath. 

“You’re being so good, Azriel,” I praise, relishing in the way his body relaxes into the words. “Just a little longer.”

I stand, walking to the corner of the room to the closet. I quietly wheel out the next part of his surprise, setting them aside for when I need them. When I come back, I notice the sheen of sweat lining his chest and torso. It glimmers in the low light, catching at all the right angles. 

I stroke my hands up and down his shoulders, working the tense muscles. He relaxes into my body and I travel further. Over his chest, over his abs, down his thighs. When I reach his cock, I press the next button and turn up the intensity. 

Az growls. In a way I’ve never heard him before. He curls in on himself, kicking his feet against the floor. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love it, Azriel. I know you want to be my good boy and take your birthday present so well. You’re gonna take it until I tell you you’ve had enough.”

“It feels so good,” he moans. His thighs are shaking, his cock flushed almost purple. “M-More.”

“And now you’re begging for it? Gods, Az you are so easy for me. I’m sure if you'd found this before tonight, I would’ve caught you with it, huh? So fucking desperate.” I can’t help but tease him, he makes it so easy. And he is being so good for me, why not give him what he wants? “You asked for more, Azriel.”

I click it up another notch, watching the way it sends shock waves through the muscles in his thighs and abs. He’s open-mouth panting now, unable to take a breath without whining. He starts shaking his head back and forth, eyes blinking rapidly. 

“You’re not allowed to cum, Azriel. I didn’t give you permission.”

My reminder makes him sob. “Please, please Yn. Fucking please let me cum. Fuck I-I can’t- Yn I can’t-”

“You’re going to,” I demand, pushing the hair out of his face. “Because I told you to. You wanna make me happy, right? I won’t be happy if you cum. You don’t wanna disappoint me, do you?”

He shakes his head no rapidly, sweat dripping down his face. 

“Then don’t cum. It’s not that hard.”

Azriel cries out, the noise coming deep within his chest. He tries to cross his legs to relieve the pressure, but I force them to stay open. He shakes and writhes, wings slanted behind his back in a mess of shadows. He cannot sit still, but I don’t reprimand him for it. 

The room is filled with the sound of his harsh breathing and the hum of the vibrator. It’s filled with the scent of his sweat and breath. 

“Yn- Yn turn it off.”

“No.”

He curses, a colorful menagerie falling from his wet lips. “Please please please please please please.”

The sound of him begging, truly begging, makes me grin in a sinister way. This is exactly how I wanted him. A whimpering, desperate mess for me to play with. 

I turn it off. 

Azriel blows out a breath, body still writhing. His cock stands tall, a deep shade of maroon. I know one flick of my tongue would send him over the edge. And having that kind of power over him feels incredible. 

After letting him rest for a second, I decide it’s time for some real fun. I pluck the dildo off the dresser and stand in front of Azriel, waiting for him to look up at me. When those hazel eyes meet mine, they’re glassy and full of pleasure. Almost too much. He looks drunk with his cheeks so rosy and ears flaming red. He looks so adorable all fucked out like this. 

“Stand,” I commanded, watching the words register on his face. 

His knees tremble, but he manages, stretching his taught legs. The sight of him shaking so vividly would normally scare me. But right now it's… it's beautiful. I made him this way, and this ache between my legs couldn't be stronger. 

The cup on the end suctions to the metal chair when I place the dildo down. “Sit.”

“Yn-”

“Sit,” I snapped, eyes hardening. Azriel swallowed, looking from me to the chair and back. “Don’t make me ask again. I told you to sit. So sit down. Now.”

He turned back around, standing above the chair. Slowly, incredibly slowly, he lowered himself to the chair. His arms were bulging against the ropes, veins running along his biceps throbbing with his pulse. But he sits. All the way down. 

With a proud smile, I drink in the way he sits. It's so rigid. His chest barely moves with his quick breaths. His eyes are screwed shut. 

“Azriel,” I taunt, my voice sickly sweet. “What's got you breathing so hard, hmm? Are you in too much pleasure? Does it feel too good?”

His mouth gapes open, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“You’re at a loss for words with how good you feel. So fucking pathetic, completely fucked out the first time you’re taking a toy?” I click on the vibrator again, starting at level two. He thrashes, then grunts, tossing his head back. “You can take it. You’ve been such a good boy. You’ve been pleasing me so much, Azriel, did you know that? You’re making me so happy. Keep being a good boy and I’ll let you cum.”

“Yn…” he breathed, head falling back to meet my eyes.

“What do you need, my shadow? More? You want more?” He shakes his head no, but remains silent. “You can do better than a pitiful shake of your head. Tell me what you want, Azriel.”

“Yn… Yn…” he chants, my name a plea of desperation. It's airy and full of need. 

“That’s it, baby. Tell me what you need, I promise I’ll give it to you.”

With bleary eyes, he looks at me. “Please let me cum.” 

The words are broken and a little slurred, but he told me what he needed. So I’ll give it to him. 

“Such a good boy, Azriel. Telling me how much you need to cum. I’ll make sure you do, baby. Just keep taking it for me. You’re doing soooo good.”

I kept talking to him, praising him for how good he’s taking everything I’ve given him. Azriel is babbling and pleading like a total whore. While he drones on and on, I wheel out the surprise I set in the corner. Three long, vertical mirrors are set around him so he can see every angle of his perfect body. 

So he can watch himself come undone without me even touching him. 

“Azriel, look at me baby,” I commanded. He settles his gaze on me, then the mirrors. “Don’t you think you look so pretty?”

The way his body slumps in the chair sent chills down my spine. He spread his legs, admitting the cuff constricting his cock. Azriel pushes on his toes lightly, bobbing up and down on the dildo. “Fuck I- Yn I look so…so-”

“I want you to keep your eyes locked on the mirror. Don’t look at anything but yourself. This is all for you, take it all in, my shadow. Enjoy watching yourself fall apart for me.”

Azriel nodded. 

I circled him slowly, amused at how… delicate he looked despite the harsh reality of his current fate. He was tied up, more vulnerable than ever. And yet he looked so sweet and simple. And devastatingly ruined. 

At the first touch to the leathery material of his wings, Azriel jumped. He shouted and swore. 

“Relax, Azriel.”

“I can’t handle it when you touch my wings, Yn. I’m not gonna be able to hold on,” Az pleads. I touch him again in the same spot. He shudders and grits his teeth. “Yn please.”

“Eyes on yourself, Azriel.”

With a deep, controlled breath, he pulls his eyes back to the mirrors. As I touch and explore the most sensitive parts of him, he twitches in every direction, effectively screwing himself further on the dildo. I take the curve of my nail and trace a vein running in his wing. Fibers in his muscles seize. 

In the mirror, I can see the cuff working nicely. His chest is coated in sweat and it takes all my strength to not run my tongue from the tip of his cock to the base of his throat. Instead, I continue to tease his wings. 

Azriel has this one specific spot right at the base of his wing that drives him insane. The moment I begin to move my hand, he begins to moan uncontrollably. He begs and whines and begs again for me to make him come. 

“Are you watching yourself, baby?” I ask, locking eyes with him in the mirror. When he nods, eyes cast down at his body, I stroke his wing. Twice. And tears spill down his face. 

“F-Fuck Yn I need to cum. I need to cum, fuck PLEASE let me cum please please please,” Azriel chants like I’m a long forgotten god. As if I would be able to grant all his wishes and desires. And it fills me with a fire I’ve never felt before. 

“You’ve been such a good boy, Azriel. Go ahead. You can cum, let go.” 

The second I gave him permission, he came. His whole body convulsed with the force. His legs and torso shivered, ecstasy pouring out of him with every whine and curse. 

“Fuuuucccckkkkk,” he mewls, watching his cum slide down his cock, spreading over his thighs. The cuff keeps vibrating, drawing out his pleasure. “Turn it off turn it off turn it off-”

“Don’t you wanna see how far you can go? You look so pretty when you cum, I could keep watching you forever, my dear. Why don’t you do it again, okay? You’ve earned it, go ahead and cum for me, just once more.”

His whole body is flush, the same beautiful color as his aching cock. He strains against the ropes and for a minute I think he’s going to break free. But he falls slack, a steady wave of whimpers as the cuff continues to drain him. The flow of it never stops. 

After a few more seconds to enjoy the show for myself, I turn off the vibrator. I gently slide it off, the majority of his seed landing on my fingers. I make a bog show of licking it off for him. 

Azriel is lost in his mind somewhere when I begin to undo the ropes. I massage his shoulders, working blood back into his extremities. 

“You did such an amazing job, my love. I am so proud of you, I hope you had as good of a time as I did.”

Azriel stayed quiet, but he nodded his head, gulping down air. He was shaking, but judging by the way the bond felt, he felt nothing but euphoria. I had done exactly what I was asked, and he loved it. 

While I kneaded his shoulders, kissing up and down his back, he recovered. While I was strong, I wasn’t strong enough to lift a fully grown Illyrian warrior and carry him to the bathroom. Currently, he’s in no condition to move under his own volition, so we’ll take our time until his strength is restored. 

“I love you so much, Az. My beautiful, strong mate. You did such a good job, such a good boy for me.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, a lazy smile on his lips. “Love being your good boy.”

“You are, you did so fucking good Azriel. It was so hot watching you cum like that,” I smiled, kissing his forehead, then his lips when he pursed them to me. “Feeling good enough to get to the bathroom? The tub is waiting, ready for you.”

My mate nodded, “Only if you’ll come in with me.”

Giggling, I slung his arm over my shoulder. “Of course I will. Stand up slowly, take your time. I’ve got you.”

With a few hisses as he stood up off the chair, wings splaying out to help him keep his balance, I guided him to the bathroom. He could stand just… not super well. We stumbled, but made it to the tub in one piece. I left him to climb in as I stripped, adding some salts to the bath. 

“I don’t care about that, just get in, my love.”

Illyrians, not known for their extended patience, but they are known for their incredible brutality and bravery.

As well as their wingspans. 

Before he could yank me in with my clothes on, I swept them away with a flick of my hand and climbed in. Azriel guided me to sit in his lap, face to face. His warm, scar-flecked hands caressed my body. It wasn’t in a particularly sexual manner, but I was far too turned on to not let a whimper slip. But he didn’t smirk or crack a teasing joke, he just continued to roam my body. 

It seemed to calm him, the edges of ecstasy fading away from the bond one strand at a time. His heart rate slowed and that glaze over his eyes faded away. 

“Feeling okay?” I asked, stroking my hands up and around the tattoos on his shoulders and chest. 

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “Just… wow. My body feels so tingly.”

“Now you know how I feel when you make me cum multiple times.”

Azriel smiled, sending my heart tumbling in my chest. “Guess I should be a bit more gracious with you, shouldn’t I? Considering now you have what you need to retaliate.”

“I think you’d like it if I retaliated,” I grin. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Good time? I’ve never felt so satisfied in my whole life. Thank you for giving me that experience.”

I smiled so wide it hurt. “Of course, my shadow. But the next time you want to have a ‘new experience’, don’t hesitate to wait so long to tell me.”

“I promise,” Azriel whispers, cupping both sides of my face with his hands. Our foreheads lean in together. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

[lovelykhaleesiii]

ok but chubby!Aeg with a new wife reader and him just fucking her constantly with a breeding kink and barely letting her out of his chambers until his family finds her would be incredible...

And good luck with your period beautiful, it seems I'm headed there as well

sorry for the delayed response lovely, hope you are better now xox this ask is delicious, thank you for sending it in! any type of Aeg with a breeding kink is something else...

Duty to the Realm.

PAIRING: chubby!King!Aegon ii Targaryen x Queen!fem!Reader

WORDS: 3,522.

WARNINGS: arranged marriage, breeding kink, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, slightly cruel!Aegon ii, female receiving (f*ingering), edging, overstimulation, creampie, cockwarming, swearing, posessive!Aegon, p in v sexual intercourse, mentions of pregnancy/birth.

A/N - I may have gotten carried away a little bit, but that's okay. shoutout for my bitchass anon, that seems to be OBSESSED with me, enjoy reading and hating on this asshole.

​​The marital duty expected of the woman to the man was one of a common, natural phenomena, that many in the realm would often not bat an eye to, yet one that held great anticipation for you, in your case. Particularly considering, your lawful husband was no other than the sole King of the Seven Kingdoms. An heir was the ultimate and primary responsibility, expected of you both to fulfil. A royal decree and order of the Faith.

He was to bed you as much as it pleased your Sire, as you were to carry and birth as many lively heirs as possible, blessed as the Gods saw fit. Your anointed Septas had spoken to you countlessly to this coming night, and your dearest mother before her untimely passing: all reinstating the other, that childbirth was no easy game. A duty of womankind and also an honour. To be blessed by the Mother herself, with the gift to carry and birth healthily.

Nonetheless, arrangements made, your House meticulously selected, as your husband to be, Aegon the Second of his name, had been thoroughly consulted by his liege council, thought that the most viable candidate to bear the shared responsibility of carrying out the infamous Targaryen dynasty, was you. Now that the Dance had come to its long-awaited end, Aegon the ultimate successor, reparations needed to be made and lines secured for the generations forthcoming.

The wedding was a swift and grandiose occasion: rich food and wine, opulent gifts and crowds [many faces unfamiliar to yourself] gathered in abundance, the union was legitimised by the Faith of the Seven, binded by law. Aegon scarcely spoke to you during the special occasion besides catching his lingering, lilac eyes fleeting over towards you. Strangely you had also noticed, Aegon would not allow for you to speak for yourself. Often promptly intercepting, answering general questions and well wishes on your behalf, before a peep escaped your reddened lips: you found it odd and somewhat harrowing.

It was an ambivalent feeling, as though Aegon acknowledged your physical presence, yet refused to grant you the privilege to speak nor appreciate you? You felt trivial against his stance, nothing more than a vessel at his complete disposal. You came to the haste, haunting conclusion of neglect... "Aegon does not love me."

Aegon took you to bed that dreadful night, ruling against his Council for a meek audience to be present. He vowed a promise, his lingering words "the deed will be done" remained echoing in your thoughtlessly numb mind.  The door locked as Aegon saw to it himself, no words spared other than fleeting glances, as he took a swift swing of his Dornish wine that accompanied him, as he departed from the feast with you. Observing Aegon this near, his authority in the realm, was not the only quality in him that held a substantially formidable presence...

Unlike his younger brothers, Aegon was fuller in size. His stocky thighs and legs accentuated in size by the tightly fitted breeches, was accompanied by a portly round stomach that looked tense and swollen from the delectable wedding feast and drinking. Not that you had much of an appetite that evening, however, Aegon did not halt when a full serving was laid in front of him, nor the seconds that he demanded for, or a slice of the exquisite cake. One thing you had noticed tonight that you had never heard of before, was that Aegon had an impressive appetite. Whether it was from the nerves of having to bed a woman he scarcely knew, or the undeniable, looming fear of failing to provide an heir, he ate intensely and seemed to enjoy himself rather. The way he'd savour his last few bites, eyes rolling back in satisfaction, how he did not shy away from sculling two full pitchers worth of wine [yet remained stable on his feet and wickedly alert]. Although, a strange, yearning sensation began to churn below, a dull ache growing stronger right between your inner thighs, as you fleetingly observed Aegon's large hand tenderly palming over his distended belly. Close enough in his proximity, you heard an occasional low belch escape from Aegon's plump, greasy lips, poorly attempting to muffle his discomfort with a tight fist over his mouth.

Now in the privacy of your shared, royal chambers, his arms looked strong and sturdy: the flesh of his fingers pooling tightly around his precious rings. Although his face was wildly handsome as most Targaryen men beared celestial-like attributes, history would tell. The ruggedness remaining evident from blatant, healing scars strewed across the side of his cheek and forehead, proof of the recent battles he had bravely fought and won, did not hinder your undeniable attraction towards him. And yet, there was also a softness to his features, the flesh of his jaw ample and blurred, his cheeks plump.

You prayed in that very moment, that Aegon was just as pleased about you, as you were with him.

Undressing himself off his fine fabrics, lashing the pieces onto the floor as though they cost nothing, your tense body froze completely, as Aegon took slow strides towards you. Only inches apart, his rough hands snaking their way behind your illustrious gown, untying the strings effortlessly, as though this was not the first time he had bedded a woman.

"You know what is expected of you," Aegon firmly uttered, his tone unfaltering and deep, you felt your body grow rigid, as his rough hands met your bare skin, the gown loosely falling off your body.

Your naked body rigid, and mind frail, you could not muster the valour to respond timely, seemingly infuriating Aegon.

"Speak woman, use your words for me."

Feeling his thumb simultaneously flicking at your sensitive, perked nipple, sent shivers down your spine, his fierce, glowing eyes cursing from your breasts to your timid face.

"Y-Yes, my dear," You delicately stuttered, your sullen breath hitching in your throat, as you tried to focus solely on fixating your gaze on Aegon and not daring to look to the ground.

"Hmm, therefore you realise what is expected of me, yes? As your dutiful husband and as the King of the Seven Kingdoms, you understand what I must do to you, yes?"

Aegon's hand that was previously occupied playfully kneading and teasing your breast, now sneaked below to your waist, along with his other, his fingertips firmly tightening around the curves for your hips. His head tilted down, lowering his taller height to meet yours, as his lips found their way melting over your flushed skin.

"Y-Yes my King. Y-Yes, Aegon. A child I must bear, an heir... As many heirs as you see fit my King, I will do as you ask, as you please."

A low growl etched from Aegon's throat, animalistic even, as they momentarily broke free from you, as his thumb now gently grazing over your blush cheek and shut lips.

"Together we share this burden, but rest assured, my dear. I will do everything in my power to ensure the Kingdom has an heir. If that means fucking you day and night, sealing you in this room and chaining you to this bed then so be it. Till your dripping proudly of my seed until you take. Not until I see your belly swell greatly with my babe growing inside, may I let you roam the halls freely once more. Understood?"

"Understood."

That night Aegon took you to bed with caution and great intent. He was effortless in handling you, guiding and adjusting your body according to his positions, lifting and carrying you as though you weighed nothing more than a feather. Kissing you abundantly and with passion, often suckling at your tender flesh around your neck and breasts, you felt the spots that he had latched onto growing sore. His eager mouth occupied, his free hand found its way to your cunt, now moist with excitement, throbbing for something more. He remained generous, inserting two of his longest, thick digits inside, pumping himself in a steady, slow pace, feeling your keen walls stretching mildly, clenching around the base of his knuckles, the deeper he plunged himself in. With each helpless moan that slipped from your mouth that he earned, the deeper he shoved himself in, feeling a slick smirk spread against your neck.

"That's it, my love. You don’t even need to tell me just how bad you need your King to fuck you, I can practically feel your body begging for me, baby."

Countless more breathless moans escaped your lips that you'd desperately bit shut, that you could no longer resist. The silent void of the room gradually filling with the natural sounds of lust, as you stuttered and whimpered your King's name aloud.

"Ugh- A-Aeg. I need my King n-now. I w-want my Aeg-"

"Fuck-" Aegon spat, his teeth softly biting down on the ample flesh of your breast, tugging at your tender skin, causing a sharp jolt of pain to shock you, before letting loose. All the while unknowing to you, your Grace had a third digit inserted deep within your walls, his fist now coated in your pooling wetness, oozing between the gaps of your entrance, as his pace had hasten, his thick fingers deeply inside pumping and pushing against the natural tightness of your enclosure. The strange, dense weight and friction of his fingertips rousing against your sensitive clit.

"That's right. Warming you up so, yet it seemed you were already a soaking mess for me, my love.”

Muffled moans as you weakly attempted to fight the urge to scream and beg for more. Aegon's wicked fingers inside, tormenting you as he quickened his pace and the ferocity of his motion. Your back arching lusciously, as your hips bucked upwards and back again, motioning for more.

"Think you are ready for me, baby? Think you are ready to take my cock, till I fuck you full of my hot seed. Are you ready to be a mother?"

"Y-Yes, Aeg!" You breathlessly yelp, your hands having instinctively found their way to his platinum locks, the mottled strands caught in your fingers, as you grasped and pulled at his roots. As your arms outstretched below your sides, your breasts naturally shoved and pressed together in unison, accentuating your obvious cleavage more so, that Aegon helplessly found himself tempted. Only a second bypassed, before the bulky King found himself crawling further up atop your yielding body, with great effort, huffing and puffing as he subtly caught his breath, before burying his handsome face between, suckling at your hard, perky nipples. His heavy, round belly laid sprawled against your own abdomen, feeling his clothed, rigid cock beneath his tight pants, the tense bulge probing at your inner thigh walls.

"Soon these will be greatly full of the Mother's blessed milk, and I will relish myself with the spoils of my babe growing inside. Knowing that it was all my undoing, that made you so. Gods be good, they will be full enough, practically leaking from the vast supply. Our babes will be well fed, and I, too, hmm."

"A-Aeg, I need you. F-Fuck a babe into me, a-and I shall feed and fuck you, a-as you please."

"Mhmm, my good, pretty wife. Already at my mercy-"

Feeling the rush movements of Aegon's free hand below [as the other remained steadying himself], you had no sense of what was occurring below, nor could you see, as his stout belly blocked your view. Yet the sudden, grazing sensation of his moist, hard cock teasing at the entrance of your wet, throbbing folds, you could bear it no more.

"You promise you can take me, baby? Show me how well of an obedient wife you can be, just as much of a pretty one you are."

No warning and no remorse, Aegon shoved his thick, stiff cock into your aching, tight cunt. Despite Aegon's perilous efforts of 'warming you up', nothing amounted to the concoction of sheer ecstasy and pain that coarsed through your veins, as your King's cock, stretched you out, pushing your limits beyond comfort. And yet, you could feel the familiar, dull throbbing sensation growing more palpable by the second: desperately trying to clench around the girth of his fat, bulky circumference, your nails digging into the plump adipose flesh of his broad shoulders and back, as you remained stagnant and tense around him.

"That's it, baby- Fuck. D-Doing so, so well for me. I can just fucking feel how tight you really are around me, fuck! L-Let me just break into you, easy, easy now-"

Moaning cries and whimpers filled Aegon's ears, yet he remained focused. His pace although messy and sloppy was steady, slowly slowly, thrusting himself as equipped as his larger frame would allow him, his solid weight weighing him down against you, you move no further than squirm with remaining, great effort. Feeling his pulsating cock inside, striking adamantly against your cervix, and the pressure of his swollen, distended gut, pressing from above, with each passing second as you felt an immense, stimulating arousal brewing from below. The fierce, physical tensity of Aegon's size inside and out, was invigorating, as your body obediently attempted to adjust to your husband's size.

"Good-Good wife. That's it, baby, I'm going to cum any second now. Fuck this pretty, tight cunt of yours was needy for her King to spoil. I can feel how desperate you are for my babe, huh?"

"Y-Yes, Aeg-"

"I'm going to keep you locked up, all for myself. Till I can fuck as many heirs as I see fit. U-Until this entire quarter is full of our babes, till the realm can hear their cries. You and this tight cunt of yours are not leaving. Not until I'm fucking satisfied. All mine, now."

"Of-Of course, my King-"

"Fuck, Y/N, was I right about you, huh? Obedient from the start, you greedy, little brat, you wanted this just as much as I. Could you imagine yourself as I did, only full of my royal seed, only you worthy to take me."

"O-Only me. M-Made just for you, Aeg, as the Gods deemed it."

"No, woman. I deemed it. I made the decision. I wanted you. O-Only this cunt to take my seed, these hips to grow wide for the birth, and this belly to swell proudly. Till I see these tits leak and you waddling around, begging me to hold and carry you, this was all my undoing from the start. I am the King, the closest thing to the Gods, and farthest from men."

"Th-Then I am eternally at your mercy and will. M-My beloved-"

As you felt the tense excitement sparking below, the invigorating relief as your wetness had reached a peaking climax, the shudder of chills that echoed through your body, the momentum evaporated, as you twitched and felt feeble against Aegon’s sturdy build. Your wetness drenching his cock, as it once more, oozed heavily against your folds and inner thighs. Aegon's immediate, instinctive release adjunct to your own, earned a mouthful of deep, growling moans and breathless swears from the King himself in relief. His hot, ample seed shot through inside, painting your inner walls, as you felt his body weight drop even more against you, all energy exerted.

Shifting himself to your side, as to not suffocate you against his bulky frame, embracing your flustered, exhausted self in his strong arms, his twitching, thick cock, however remained buried inside.

"Tonight we shall remain united as man and woman, like so. Heed my words earnestly, Y/N. Until I see this belly grow round and full, you will stay in this chamber, until I say otherwise. You obey no other orders unless directly from me, understood? I will send maids to help you, you will not lift a single finger so long as you are my wife. You answer to no one but me.”’

Feeling your nod against his plump, meaty chest. Aegon’s hands found their way to your unkempt, loose hair. Brushing the strands off your sweaty, blush face. Although his words were stern and mildly threatening, his actions remained tender.

“B-But what if the Gods do not see me fit to mother your heirs? W-what if I am… What if I am barren, my King?”

Aegon’s silence was eerily unnerving, although his breath did not hitch in shock of your sudden question, his breathing now regained to stability, remained unfaltering as he contemplated.

“You are my wife, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. If anyone wishes to question your purpose in my life, regardless of whom, will answer to me… The King. And they will anguish as I see fit.”

The bright days and chill nights had passed since the wedding night. Aegon, committed to his promise, whenever his duty fulfilled and time free, he would return to you, only to embrace you, love you and fuck you. Proudly filling you day and night full of a fresh batch of his seed, despite practically still being a drenching mess from when he had last left you. Servants attended to your every need: when he felt he had you exhausted, pushed to your limits, your body delicate and tiresome eyes drifting off to a deep slumber. He would let you be, only sharing close proximity as he embraced you cozily. He ordered the chefs to have your supper and meals sent piping hot, in a timely manner and occasionally found himself joining you in attendance, than his own family feasts. A table set up for the both of you, an intimate quiet dinner between a husband and his wife. He much preferred your company, anyways.

His family, more often the Dowager Queen and Hand, himself, promptly questioned Aegon regarding your whereabouts, he would disclose to you.

“At one point my dear mother had feared you’d run away,” Aegon chuckled, as he scoffed a piece of his roast down, followed by a scull of his wine.

“And what if I had? Would you let me be, or have Ser Arryk sent out to seek me out, dear husband?”

Aegon’s familiar eyes flashed towards you instantly, although the longing, tender look was replaced with a cold, menacing pierce.

“Go against this union, means you go against my decision… The decision of your King. I would send out a whole battalion if need be, and when I have you in my grasp, I will rid you of this luxury and see to it that I lock you up in one of the cells below the Red Keep. Fuck you like a common whore, and summon you like a predator to its prey. Until I’m certain you’ve learnt your lesson… Now are you still tempted to run?”

Shaking your head promptly, Aegon’s half-hearted smirk was enough to ease the tension. With all the intimacy involved, you had both gradually become quite comfortable with one another, enough to speak your minds, as Aegon often urged from you on your behalf. Although, only between you two. He firmly ordered for servants and guards alike, to be absent during your shared moments, in an attempt to ease you into speaking with confidentiality and also, to avoid whispers being spread. After the Dance, Aegon was often sceptical of people’s intentions, considering all the treachery he’d been exposed to during the early years of his reign.

Regardless, it was Aegon who was the first to notice subtle changes, only adding it all up when you had meekly disclosed to him that you had not bled in the past two months. Immediately he sought a guard to fetch for the maester and soon enough, his long-awaited wishes had been confirmed.

Aegon often watched over you more intensely now, his eyes ogling over your swelling belly, how the waistline of your gown had grown slightly tighter around your stomach, and your breasts looking fuller, more sensitive under his teasing touch. Relieved, however it was far from the end for Aegon... The King himself, had become even more brutally protective over you, and the babe inside, still adamant on keeping you confined, rested and guarded.

"No harm will come towards you or the babe, so long as I breathe and rule."

He even had Sunfyre tenaciously fly above your tower, granting him peace of mind that no threat could overpower the fury of a dragon.

Nonetheless, the Gods had blessed you to full term, and a healthy babe was born. A son, a true embodiment of the Targaryen dynasty, and the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Aegon was beyond sated that you and the babe had recovered from the gruelling nature of birth, and seldom to his words, he allowed you free to roam, with the newborn warmly nestled in your arms, and Aegon relentlessly by your side. That was until, the King felt the desire for yet another heir to be proclaimed."Need I remind you of our wedding night, my beloved... You promised your King as many heirs. It is only natural as a true-born Targaryen, that I take what is mine."

general taglist - @evenstaris @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylas-the-grim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe

credit for divider - @/babesindestroyland

[ebonyheartnet]

Clockwork was powerful, but he was far from almighty. Some paths could not be altered, some worlds were beyond saving, but this…

As he picked up his grandson’s broken body, the child’s clock began to spin.

🦇

Ignoring the pendant around his neck for a moment, Bruce looked at the world frozen around him. The last thing he saw was that damned alley behind the movie theater, but now he was in the manor. As he tried to adjust, a hooded figure melted out of the too-bright walls.

“Your assumptions are correct, detective. This is the end, but I come bearing cold comfort.”

“Who are you?” Bruce asked, weary but ready to fight.

“Your friend Diana would call me Kronos, but your son, Daniel, once called me Clockwork, then grandpa,” said Clockwork. “You don’t have to trust me, but you’ve loved them both. I just want to cushion the blow.”

“Explain,” Bruce demanded.

“Very well, but let’s go to your family.”

Clockwork led the way down to the cave, and Bruce followed begrudgingly. Several of the bats were huddled around the computer, with a few getting ready to head out. The screens showed the energy from Bruce’s final jump, all the way in that damned alley.

“Are they safe like this?” Bruce asked.

”No,” said Clockwork, “but it will be painless. When I restart time, you’ll only have a minute to speak. That will not be enough to evacuate.”

“Why not give me the hope then?”

“Bruce, I have already done something incredibly cruel in the name of kindness. If I gave you anything else—if I lied that there was a way out—you would waste the gift.” Clockwork shrank down to a child. “Daniel will know what happened one day, and I don’t want his hatred to extend beyond a few centuries.”

“Wait, Danny will survive this?”

“And only Daniel can,” Clockwork confirmed. “Leaving will hurt, but only a new lifetime could begin to heal what he’d already suffered.”

Before he could ask, a portal opened to several screens, and he could feel his heart break as everything played out: Danny’s original world and his first parents’ betrayal. The way that both Drake twins would’ve been stillborn without the swap. The nuclear war when he killed Joker—

“I’m sorry that Darkseid’s pact with Nergal delayed your friends. The worlds without a laughing magician almost always face excessive magical interference.”

“Then why not place Danny somewhere safer to begin with?” Bruce growled. “Why hurt him like this when my son’s already been through so much!”

“A laughing magician cannot be anticipated by the divine, and I…” Clockwork aged into an old man. “Bruce, I was a terrible father, but my little warden has me wrapped around his finger. I couldn’t risk him being banished or bound in a deal before he could advocate for himself.”

Bruce wanted to hate him for it. He wanted to hate the paranoid logic that would break Danny’s heart again and again. He wanted to tell his son the truth and hold him through the tears. He wanted to soothe the hurt himself. He wanted to hide it so that Danny never felt the blow.

He wanted, like any good parent, to keep his son safe and happy.

“You and I are far too alike,” Clockwork said bitterly. “Thank you for loving him. Thank you for refusing to forgive me.”

“So what now?” Bruce asked.

“I’m taking everything Daniel needs to the new timeline. His records, his things, and even the few articles. He acted like a ghost in public, so we can just slip him in.”

“There will be gaps,” Bruce stated.

“I will help bridge them,” Clockwork promised.

“And he’ll know about us?”

“There is no timeline where I attempt to keep the truth from Daniel and avoid him devouring my core,” Clockwork said.

“That isn’t a yes.”

“Though I would not begrudge him his vengeance, such a thing would make Daniel hate himself.” Clockwork smirked as he matched Bruce’s age. “That counts more than my word.”

“And where is Danny?”

“He had a headache, so he’s fast asleep upstairs.” Clockwork’s gaze softened. “He’s going to wake up in a world where no one remembers him, but everyone he loves here is alive and well.”

“And you’ll show him this one day?”

“I promise. He will know as soon as it will not destroy him.”

Bruce took a shakey breath and walked until he was halfway between both groups. He hadn’t bothered dealing with the tears until now, but he wanted to see them. He wanted…

“Will any of us join him?” Bruce croaked.

Clockwork hesitated.

“Ectoplasmic ghosts form when the soul condenses under pressure. If I tell you the truth, either anguish or relief will damn you. I’m sorry.”

Bruce wanted to push, but just this once…

“Do it.”

[sellenite]

cherry blossoms 04 pairing: virgin!Choso x fem!reader contents: fingering (f! receiving), squirting, praise kink (lightly), friends to lovers word count: 3.5K notes: hi everyone <3 if you have been following this little series I am so sorry for the insane delay in posts, I have been struggling with my health recently and it took me a lot longer to write this than I hoped! but I am feeling better now and I sincerely hope everyone enjoyed reading. as always, thank you so, so very much for any and all likes, reblogs and/or comments 🥲🫶 MDNI | 18+

The night didn’t go the way you had expected it to, in all honesty. You thought you would probably kiss him, tentatively at first, and maybe eventually with a little tongue. You assumed he would be shy, that you may have to guide his hands to your body and encourage him to feel you under his palms. You had fantasized about going farther, giving him head, but you didn’t think you would actually get the chance to. And the last thing you expected was to find yourself in the position you were in now, with Choso practically begging you to let him return the favor. He wasn’t quite sure how to please you yet, but he was determined to try. And he was not about to pass up the opportunity to show his gratitude to you, not after you had just given him the gift of your mouth. You could see the adoration and lust in his deep purple eyes as he gazed at you, and you couldn’t help but give in.

“Well, maybe I could show you first if you want,” you offered as you were seated on his lap, thighs straddling his as you ran the tip of your finger up the hem of his t-shirt. “I could teach you what I like, and then you could try it?” Your gaze met his, gauging his reaction. You didn’t want to make him feel too overwhelmed too fast. Choso had gone from never kissing a girl to having his first sexual experience in the span of a few hours, and you were nervous that taking your clothes off for him might just do him in. But Choso was determined and nodded eagerly in response to your suggestion.

“Yeah, teach me… I want to know how to please you,” Choso said, his voice huskier. His lips parted ever so slightly as he looked at you, taking in your face—the soft kindness of your eyes, the slight flush of your cheeks, and your pretty lips. He wondered if you could feel how devoted he was to you at this moment, see it in his eyes how he ached to please you, to make you feel as good as you made him feel. You smiled at him softly, running a hand through his deep brown locks before pressing a lingering kiss to his parted lips.

“Do you have a mirror?” You asked him after pulling away, a mischievous glint sparkling in your eyes that made Choso’s brain drop straight to his dick.

After fishing through the cluttered drawers of his and Yuji’s shared bathroom, you finally procured an old dollar-store hand mirror. Choso followed you back to his living room, quiet confusion evident on his face as you instructed him to sit down with his back against the couch's armrest. You swallowed down the last bit of your nerves as you shimmied your sweatpants off, your eyes glancing over to Choso’s with a meek smile. Choso’s eyes were glued to your figure the entire time, gazing in awe as you revealed more of your bare skin to him. He was still confused about what you had planned, but it was easy enough for him to become distracted by your body. His hands found your hips tentatively as you joined him on the couch, slotting your body between his legs as you laid back against his chest. His palms smoothed down over your thighs so softly as you leaned into him, as if he may hurt you or scare you away if he put too much pressure.

“You’re so pretty like this,” you heard him murmur into your ear, more to himself than to you. He shifted behind you, perching his chin onto your shoulder to watch as his hands traced over your body, relishing the feeling of your soft skin beneath his palms. “Just want to touch you everywhere.” You could feel his breath ghosting over your ear as he leaned over your back, the pressure of his hands becoming hungrier as he grew more comfortable touching you.

You laughed contentedly as you settled back into Choso’s chest, in no rush to hasten his exploration of your body. You leaned into his touch, letting your knees fall relaxed and parted into the caging of his own as his palms groped the backs of your thighs, moving closer to your ass. Choso let out something akin to a grunt as he felt all the curvy parts of you melding into his touch, felt the way your body relaxed into his, starting to open up to him. He barely even registered that he was searching for your skin with his mouth until you let out a light, shuddered moan when his tongue pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck.

“Mmm, Choso… Are you sure you haven’t done this before,” you teased him lightly, extending your head to the side to give his lips even more access to the skin there while his hands continued to play with the shape of your body. “Never,” he slurred haphazardly against your skin, far too intrigued by your taste and feel to form any coherent response. You felt his hands sliding back up toward your hips again as his tongue worked against your neck, drunkenly enthusiastic in his efforts to consume as much of you as possible. His thumbs pushed up your hips, sliding under the elastic of your underwear before he realized that he had entered new territory. His lust-heavy eyes turned once again to gaze over your shoulder, watching the space between your thighs as his thumbs poked out from your underwear line, dangerously close to the space he wanted to see the most.

“Is this okay?” He asked you breathlessly, already worked up again from the excitement of touching you like this. You nodded against his shoulder, turning your head to look at his face, the tip of your nose brushing against his. “You can take them off if you want,” you told him softly, your eyes mirroring the same want you burning in his dark irises.

“Can I?” Choso swallowed dryly, his thumbs lightly pulling on your underwear's waistband, restlessly toying with it. He wasn’t anxious to see more of you but more so just engulfed by the privilege of being with you like this, to have the honor of you trusting him with your body. “Wanna see how pretty you are here too,” he said softly, nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours as you twittered with affection. You kissed him in response, smiling against his mouth as your lips melded together, one of your hands reaching up around the back of his neck to lace your fingers through his hair.

You held each other like this for a few moments, the emotions between you soft, the slightest stirrings of a young love flitting in your stomach, like the beginning of spring. Choso’s hands tentatively began to push the waistband of your underwear down slowly enough that you could stop him if you wanted. But you didn’t, only breaking away from his lips so you could lift your hips with a smile, helping him to slide the fabric down your legs. You settled back against his chest once you were free of the garment and positioned the mirror between your parted thighs, laughing lightly to yourself at the very hands-on anatomy lesson you were about to give.

Choso’s chin was propped up on your shoulder again, wetting his lips as you angled the mirror between your thighs so he could see the reflection of your glistening heat. “Can you see okay?” You giggled as you asked him, feeling the slightest bit shy as you bared the most intimate part of your body open for him to see. Choso nodded quickly against your shoulder, suddenly feeling like his words were caught in his throat as he stared hungrily at the reflection of your pussy in the mirror. He had never seen a woman naked before, but he felt his body reacting to the sight of you almost instinctually. His cock, which had been steadily swelling up beneath his sweats, was now pressed firmly against the plush of your ass. His hands were groping longingly at your inner thighs, his fingertips just barely teasing the swell of your outer lips. You took a breath before you trailed your free hand down to yourself, parting your folds open more so Choso could see all of you. He groaned low in his throat at the sight.

“You’re beautiful… So, so beautiful.” His fingertips grazed closer to your wetness, his breath heavy next to your ear. “Want to touch you, pretty girl, please… Need to feel how soft you are.” Choso’s words were hungrier in your ear now, needier as he devoured your slick skin with his eyes. “I’ll show you how,” you told him softly before you gently took his hand in your own and guided it between your thighs.

Choso watched unblinking as you placed his middle finger on top of your clit, with your hand resting gently on top of his own as a guide. “This is the clitoris,” you said to him gently, pushing your middle finger down into his. “It feels really good when you touch it… Kind of like this,” you explained, trying to make your voice sound confident despite the way it shook from the feeling of his fingers on you.

You rubbed your finger over his to demonstrate how you would touch yourself, biting your lip when Choso mimicked the movement against your sensitive skin. He rubbed circles into your swollen bud with his calloused fingertip, the digit gliding effortlessly over your flesh from how wet you were already. His other hand gripped the plush of your thigh with vigor, holding onto it like an anchor. Choso wanted to treat you gently; you were so soft to him, so pure, he didn’t want his excitement to get the best of him, despite the way he felt every one of his senses desperate to devour you at that moment.

“Am I doing it right?” He asked you, breathing heavily next to your ear as he let your hand guide him, slowly adding pressure on his own as he became more familiar with your body. It brought him so much pride to know that he was making you feel good; he wanted to please you as much as he possibly could, do everything and anything you wanted. So he followed the cues you gave him diligently, watching the reflection of your pussy in the mirror, how the small hole at the bottom of you seemed to tighten up when he pressed a little harder.

“Uh huh, you’re doing so good for me, Cho,” you praised him sweetly, the pitch of your voice rising slightly in your effort to keep your moans in. You bit your lip harder, trying to stay quiet enough to continue to give Choso instructions, but it was getting increasingly difficult. You guided his movements for a few more moments before you removed your hand from his and let him continue at his own pace, opting instead to hold onto his forearm.

“I wanna make you feel really good,” Choso slurred against your skin as he turned to bury his face into your neck once more, sloppily sucking on your exposed skin. His fingers kept moving, dragging circles around the swell of your clit, experimentally running up and down the bump, and your hips twitched in his lap in response. A louder moan escaped your lips at the increase of sensations, and Choso groaned at your reaction. “Wanna make you sound like that again, too,” he moaned back to you with a grin, his fingers rubbing your clit faster and causing your nails to claw into his forearm. You let out a breathless laugh at his enthusiasm, turning your head to press a kiss to his cheek.

“You can put your fingers inside me if you want,” you encouraged him. You pushed down on his wrist lightly to guide his movements as he turned back to look in the mirror, watching the reflection as his fingers inched towards your entrance. Choso was inexperienced, yes, but he knew enough about sex to have an idea of where you wanted him—and based on the way your hole pulsed as he touched you, he felt certain that was where you needed him most. His long middle finger dipped down your slit as he gently grazed the outside of it, and you whimpered softly.

“Right here?” Choso asked you breathlessly, circling your entrance as you moaned out your approval. You hadn’t realized how worked up you were until this moment, suddenly feeling desperate to be stuffed full of his thick fingers. And the slow pace that Choso was massaging outside of you was starting to feel agonizingly teasing. “Right there,” you echoed back to him, your nails digging into his forearm with the anticipation of being touched.

“You feel so wet… Are you always like this?” He groaned as he watched his fingers circle you, pulling away just to watch the clear fluid you leaked stick to his fingertips. “It means you’re making me feel good, Choso,” you moaned to him, grinding your core into his fingers to try and get more friction. Choso smiled to himself at your praise as the tip of his finger found your entrance once more, putting the lightest touch of pressure against the ring of muscle.

“More, Choso, please,” you begged him, and you sighed out in pleasure as he happily obliged, finally pushing his thick finger inside of you. Your body welcomed him easily, the wetness of your arousal coating his skin as he slid inside of you, moaning at the feeling of your body wrapped around him. “You’re so warm inside,” he groaned, pushing his finger into you until he had filled you up to his knuckle. You moaned at the feeling of him inside of you, the sensation partially satiating your craving for him, but not enough.

“Add another finger, Cho,” you instructed him as you started to bounce your hips against his hand gently. “And then move them in and out together, and just keep doing that.” Your voice was breathier now, more desperate as his touch got more intimate. Choso nodded over your shoulder, watching with parted lips as he pulled his finger almost entirely out of you before adding his ring finger. You whimpered as he thrust his fingers inside of you—slowly stretching you open—and your hips twitched to meet his hand.

“Like this?” Choso asked you huskily, pumping you full of his fingers as your cunt squelched and leaked around them. You moaned in approval for him as you laid your head back to rest on his shoulder, bracing your body against his broad frame. Your breath was quickening, your inner walls beginning to clench and unclench around him faster. You watched his veined forearm between your thighs, muscles rippling as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, the sight only making you feel hotter as you rolled your hips to press into him.

You abandoned the mirror to bring your hand to yourself, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing circles into the bud in time with Choso’s thrusts. His grip on your thigh tightened, instinctively pulling your leg open more to watch you touch yourself. He groaned at the sight, eyes heavy-lidded as he felt your walls tighten up around his fingers even more as you rubbed circles into your clit. “Does that feel good?” Choso’s words were heavy next to your ear. You could feel his thick cock pressed into your backside, rolling his bulge into the swell of your ass unconsciously every time you writhed in his lap.

“L-love it, Cho,” your voice came out as a whine as your breathing became more labored, watching his thick fingers pump in and out of you, glistening with your arousal. “Your fingers feel so good inside of me,” you praised him, and Choso groaned behind you before attaching his lips back onto your neck, sucking more marks into the already-bruising skin. He felt utterly consumed by you, and feeling how hot and tight and wet you were around his fingers made him feel some primal kind of urge to sink his teeth into you, to taste you, to hold you, to take you. How he longed to feel those tight, wet walls wrapped around his cock. Choso felt like he could get off from the thought of it alone now that he knew just how soft and warm you were inside.

“Wanna make you cum, pretty girl, please… Wanna feel you cum on my fingers,” he slurred into your skin, moaning like he was the one being pleasured, practically whimpering into your ear. You clenched around his fingers from hearing his needy tone, your hand rubbing faster, stronger circles into your clit.

“Need you t-to curl your fingers into me a little more; can you do that for me?” You begged breathlessly between moans, hoping he could follow along without any further direction. Choso hummed in approval and you felt his fingers curling up, pushing up into your walls, drawing closer and closer each time to exactly where you needed him until he landed right on that spot inside of you. You wailed as his fingers curled into you with precision, your back arching to press further into his hand. Choso groaned at your reaction, utterly enamored with making sure you made that sound over and over again, diligently pressing up into the same spot inside of you with a fast rhythm.

“Is this the spot you like?” Choso rasped against your neck. His fingers were moving quicker and more confidently as your body began to tremble in his arms. He was quickly learning the cues your body gave him, from how your back arched into his touch, how your breathing changed, or how your nails dug harder into his forearm. Words failed you suddenly as you felt that dizzying heat inside of you rising—coil winding tighter inside of your core as you worked yourself up with Choso’s fingers—and all you could do was nod your head desperately. You reached your free hand up and back, arm bending to tighten around his neck, anchoring yourself even further to his body as he pushed you further and further towards your edge.

“Gonna cum, Choso,” you warned him breathlessly, breasts heaving as you braced your body against his. Your legs shook despite the tight hold he had on your thigh, keeping you open for him as your walls began to clench tighter and faster around his fingers. He groaned into your ear as you writhed in his lap, your ass rubbing up against his erection, the delicious friction making him feel like he was about to spill himself.

You could feel that familiar heat, but something else along with it—a sharper build that was flooding your senses with want every time the pads of his fingers massaged against the rough patch of your inner walls. But you were too pleasure-drunk and gasping in Choso’s arms to recognize it until suddenly you were crying out and gushing around his fingers. Choso kept curling his fingers into you, groaning under his breath as he watched you squirt onto his hand as whimpers slipped past your lips, chest heaving and lips parted open.

Your hips twitched in his lap, your body quivering as your brain unraveled in waves of pleasure. Choso’s hips stuttered against your body until he stopped abruptly with a deep groan against your ear, his fingers stilling inside of you while his other hand clutched tightly to your thigh. Whimpered pants left your lips as you started to come down from your orgasm, slumping back against Choso’s shoulder. “Oh my god, Choso,” you laughed breathlessly, your cheeks flushed and body still buzzing from the aftershocks of just squirting all over his fingers. “That was so good; you did so good,” you clarified enthusiastically, turning your face to give him a winded smile.

Choso’s cheeks were flushed just as much as yours, his chin resting heavily on your shoulder. He slid his fingers out of you to hold your other thigh, softly rubbing your skin as he caught his breath. “I did good?” He asked you with a boyish smile, turning his head on your shoulder to meet your eyes. You laughed giddily at his reaction, kissing his cheek affectionately. “More than good, Choso. I– don’t even think you realize how amazing that was for me,” you giggled to him, thinking of how you might possibly begin to explain the concept of squirting to him after all of this. Choso just beamed at you in response, seemingly still coming down from his own physical exertion.

“It was good for me, too,” Choso smiled sheepishly at you. It didn’t take long for all the clues to click into place about exactly how “good” it had been for him, especially once you realized that his noticeable bulge had suddenly vanished. You pressed another soft kiss to Choso’s cheek before your lips met his, tenderly and slowly. The heat of the moment had settled into a warm calm, the song of the long-forgotten movie’s ending credits rolling on in the background of the living room.

AN: omg I have been so nervous to upload this because I feel like my writing skills are so rusty 🥲 but I really hope that everyone still enjoyed this 🫶 also, if you had asked to be tagged and were not, I am so sorry! I decided not to do tags on this one because it had been so long and I wasn't sure who all was still interested 🥲

[notroosterbradshaw]

Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home)

about: Bradley's home just before the turn of midnight. After 15+ Christmases together, it's just sometimes lovely to reminisce about life before the babies wake and the madness ensues.

word count: 6k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.

a/n: I haven't had a lot of time to put this together the way I would have liked, I will quietly edit after xmas to put some more time into this... hopefully. otherwise, please enjoy and have yourself a merry little something if you feel that way inclined x

masterlist.

It was so late. 

Bradley was so late.

A late arrival to base, mandatory debrief, it was a shitshow of delay after delay from his three-month deployment but coming home to see the house dark, he knew you’d given up and headed to bed. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself, quietly dropping his duffel bag at the front door but ears pricked up to hear Christmas music – Eagles, Please Come Home for Christmas – and he could swear, you singing gently with Don Henley. The sweetest sound even if you were the first to admit your voice was reminiscent of nails on a blackboard.

Untrue. It was like pure honey from the hive and he couldn’t get enough.

Chewing his lip in anticipation as he quietly unlaced his boots, he wandered into the dim living room, only lit by the glow of the fading white lights on the tree and carefully curated tea lights flickering on the fireplace. But he couldn’t interrupt the revelry as you danced gently around the tree you were trimming, one hand adjusting a decoration, the glass piano that once belonged to his old man, and a balloon of Pinot Noir in the other. He watched as you took a delicate sip, the floor around the tree littered with beautifully wrapped gifts and the stockings full of candies and odds and ends.

It really was a picture. You curated magic.

If he knew you, and he knew you so well, the tree would have been up on Thanksgiving evening and perfected every night until now, Christmas Eve. So beautiful in what little you wore, one of his many threadbare old Navy tees and maybe some undies underneath for modesty, or maybe not, he hoped. The reflection of the lights danced against your bare skin on display that had him swallow rough, and like most instances in your presence, hard. So hard. Three months without your touch, taste and sweet voice hard.

“Hi,” Bradley said finally, as you jolted slightly and looked in his direction, a smile growing on your face as he made his way to you, steadfast as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his forehead against yours. 

“Hi,” you said simply, even though you had a thousand things you wanted to tell him. “Merry Christmas, Bradley,” you said as he smiled softly at you, grasping your cheek in his calloused palm and searching your face intently – looking for anything that may have changed, confident in his recall he could never forget one feature on your divine face. 

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t think you’d make it,” you confided delicately. And honestly? Neither did he. 

He looked at his watch. “With moments to spare,” he said, amber eyes dancing mischievously. “God, I missed you,” he breathed, your delicate perfume grounding him, ridding away his sea legs. “May I?” he nodded towards the wine in your hand, and you gratefully passed it to him. “Like this,” he told you. “Glass for me?”

You made a face. “Like, six hours ago… maybe?” 

He grinned. “That good, huh?”

“I’m sorry, but you were so late.”

“So late,” he mocked, bobbing to put the glass on the coffee table.   

“And yet you still haven’t kissed me,” you mumbled.

He huffed a gentle laugh and did exactly what was expected of him. Three months away from your soft lips, and sparkling eyes as he pulled you closer to him with a firm hand on your lower back. Three months of fantasising what this moment would feel like even though it had happened dozens of times before. How slick your tongue was against his and it reminded him of the soft-spoken, even shy freshman he met in college in his sophomore year. The first time your eyes met in the dorm hall as you dragged your suitcases behind you, looking for room numbers and coming up short. So small in the ocean of chaos.

Bradley had no reason to go over and ask if he could help you. Leave the conversation with friends about, he reckoned, the Phillies… Countless students were struggling with the same problems, but you? Magnetic. No one else mattered, it was like no one else in the universe existed. And still… now? Aside from your beautiful daughters, maybe no one else did either.

That’s how Bradley Bradshaw’s kiss made you feel after all these years. The man who could have any woman he wanted, and those who still felt entitled to try and sway his attention on the infrequent nights out you shared. 

And just like the boy you fell in love with, his firm hands skimmed the fabric of the tee. You felt a warm palm against your hip and drift to your thigh and of course, his intended destination, against your bare ass – “Perfect,” he breathed against your lips.

You weren’t sure when he’d started dancing with you, his hips slowly guiding you to whatever song was in the background, now you weren’t so sure because all there was was him.

As he kissed and moved you, he whispered if his girls were asleep… that no one was about to wander in from their bedroom. And as much as he wanted to see his babies, his gorgeous girls, he needed their mother more and he would eagerly see them tomorrow morning.  

“Upstairs,” you told him, and he knew that meant homecoming was less raucous than it was when you were both a little young and dumber. No fucking on the couch or your back pressed up against the wall, your thigh in his calloused palm and his slacks dropped to his ankles the second he walked in. Those days were gone, greeting each other so much softer.

You weren’t entirely surprised when his hand smoothed from your side and drifted between your thighs to your delicate core. He tenderly pressed his soft lips into your pulse as his long, slender index finger tenderly skimmed the smooth skin of your pussy. “You feel good,” he breathed gently, so conscious of his voice raising and bringing the kids’ attention downstairs. “I want you. I’ve missed you, sweetheart,” he moved to your lips again and he kissed you the way he did when you first started seeing each other. The way his tongue flicked against your lip, tracing with an edge of demand as you gave in, willingly falling under his spell and kissing him back with the same ferocity.

His strong thigh pressed against your core, and you gasped against his lips, the rough material of his uniform making you heady as he tilted you that little further to almost ride him. 

“Not here,” you told him, guiding his pout to your mouth and leading him by the hand to your bedroom, the master bed, your sanctuary and sometimes the loneliest room in the world when Bradley was away. 

Bradley wasn’t surprised to see a few candles lit in the bedroom either. As you got older, your need for romance seemed to have crept through with the solitude that came along with a husband who served and two little girls who ran you off your feet every day. Bradley, a romantic at heart, unleashed some of the sweetest things that had ever happened to you. He was always big on flowers, and planning sweet dates but physical touch was his love language. 

He was a hand holder, he liked that you were the right height he could rest his lips against your temple and kiss you when close, skilled hands and massage. But it all meant so little in comparison to him holding you tightly in his arms. Something over the years you missed dearly when he was absent, you never felt safer than feeling his warm palm pressed into your lower back, the way his brawny arm would curl around your waist and tuck you into his side.

You were the other’s missing piece and so lucky to have met each other so early in life. 

“Too young to fall in love, too young to get married,” Bradley reiterated all the things you heard all those years ago. “Too young to start a family.”

“They may have been right about the last part.” At 23 and in over your head with a newborn and a husband dedicating his career to defending the country was one thing, it was one of the hardest things you’d ever thrown yourself into, leaving family to move where Bradley’s job required. The other military wives took you under their wing, (s)mothering where they could. And you were so proud of all of Bradley’s achievements, but it didn’t cure the sad nights of solitude once the kids went to bed, and you had time to think about how hard it all is to do alone. 

Bradley huffed a laugh into your ear. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t change anything now.” 

“They never thought we’d last,” you rolled your eyes like you did every time you two embarked on this quiet joke that was now at everyone else who didn’t believe expense.  

“Like I told you. From the moment I met you, it was forever,” he pulled you towards the bed, lightly tossing you towards the pillows with little effort on his behalf, you gave him a look as you adjusted against the soft pillows. “Was I wrong?”

“You’ve been very convincing,” you teased as he playfully rolled his eyes.

“In what way?” he played along.

“Well, you’re a wonderful father.”

He hummed, as he began on the buttons of his shirt. How were you supposed to continue when he was playing a strategic game of rendering his wife speechless? After 15 or so years, his body was more impressive now than the day you met him. It was almost criminal. 

When you met him, a gangly 21-year-old boy who was endeavouring to improve himself, prepare himself for the rigours of being a pilot for the navy. Gym, protein shakes, gym, school. It had been quite a development, watching Bradley grow into the man he is today.

…and you got to reap every single benefit. 

“Just a good dad? Shit…”

“An amazing father and from what I can gather, a pretty fantastic leader.” 

“Captain, Mrs Bradshaw,” he corrected. “But I’ll overlook it this time.” 

You rolled your eyes again, watching his nimble fingers get to the last button and push back the material to – disappointing. An undershirt. He tossed his shirt at you gently, his cologne wafting over your senses. “How many layers you got there, Captain Bradshaw?” 

Eyebrow raised; he kept your gaze as he stripped the second layer that kept you from his golden skin. “Better?”

You didn’t hide your shallow breath. Because yes, your man was only getting finer as he got older. The precision of his well-defined muscles glowing by candlelight, the smattering of freckles across his shoulders and broad chest, abs, abdominals, abs – they seemed to go on and your favourite, his Adonis belt. May as well have been named the Bradley Belt for all you cared, because his was spectacular. You reached the familiar logo of his boxer briefs and slender hips. The snail trail that led to the jackpot. “Better,” you confirmed as he moved to his belt, slacks and zip. “More,” you replied. “I’m practically naked here.”

Bradley’s lip quirked. “I think that tee you’re wearing is at least 10 years old.”

“Sue me, it smells like you when you’re away,” you sniped as he winked cheekily and stepped out of his dropped pants, approaching the bed. 

“I hope you’ve washed it after three months.”

Three months. But yes, you’d begrudgingly washed it. But it was still nice to be wrapped up in something that belonged to him when it wasn’t his arms to keep you safe. “Would have been better if you were here…”

“I know, sweetheart,” he sighed, making his way to the bed and crawling over to you, resting his cheek on your breast, tightening a grasp around your waist. “God, I missed you.”

Smoothing his curls, you tenderly kissed his temple. “No way as much as I did, Bradley.” 

“Were the girls good?” 

“They had their moments, but they’re nearly teenagers…”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to start fending dudes off at the door,” Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose, not wanting to believe his baby girls were growing so quickly. Violet was in Grade 7 and Olivia Grade 5. It was hard to miss so much of their lives and sometimes felt like lifetimes between his time at home. But he’d reconciled he would do more time on dry land this year, taking up a training facilitator role on base for new Top Gun recruits. You’d spoken about it for so long and now it looked like he was getting his opportunity to make Friday night basketball games, and swimming on Saturday mornings and whatever else was expected of him. 

“Not long now,” you had to agree but as much as you wanted to tell him everything he’d missed that couldn’t be fit into the couple of minutes you managed to get him every once in a while, you were so desperate for your husband, you didn’t want to play the polite game. “Bradley?”

He hummed again. 

“I want you.” 

Looking up at you, he ran his slick tongue over his top lip. “Well, ma’am, I guess I’d better get to work, huh?” his grin was wet, and he reached to kiss you, so tender and sweet but you knew it was laced with so much more as he rolled you beneath him, propping himself on an elbow and using his free palm to raise your thigh over his hip. His kisses were so good, and you knew you were a keening mess for him… when weren’t you?  

Gasping into his mouth as he lightly walked his fingers to your core, he was bold and spread your lips, taking your arousal, sticky and warm, he pressed your clit and started to rub, just so to relax you. You melted beneath him. After all these years, he knew exactly how to make you a bag of bones. He didn’t need to ask as he pressed his long index finger in, never once breaking the kiss, just increasing the intensity. 

Making out with Bradley while he fingered you. He was going old school. Those days before you slept with him, you’d be tangled together on your shitty single bed, grinding against the other. The first time he dared touch you, how he asked so sweetly if he could try and make you cum, to finger you. When you gave him a shaky yes in reply and opened your legs to him as he slid his long fingers under the waist of your tights, his soft eyes reassuring the panic that washed over you, kissing you tenderly and promising against your lips that he’d stop if you wanted him too. You told him you wanted to because he was Bradley and you’d never met anyone like him, you’d never felt the things he was making you feel. Maybe you had something to prove – to him, to you? You weren’t sure but as Bradley’s big hands slowly tugged your tights down your legs, carelessly discarding them and seeing those pretty pink undies soaked through with your excitement, he breathed, scared he’d cum before he’d touched you. He dared to sweep your undies to the side, your pretty pussy bare and glistening for him. 

He did that, he made you that wet, he thought proudly. He was so excited and popped the button on his jeans, needing to relieve some friction and moved to coax you under his arm, his nose nuzzling against yours. 

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable or if I need to stop,” he breathed, his gentle rasp calming you as you softly gripped his wrist. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d done this, but with Bradley, it was like you’d never been touched before. He ignited sparks in you that you’d never felt before, no one else’s fingers did this… not even your own. 

“You’re beautiful,” he told you as you pulled a pillow over your eyes, so shy, so bashful. He tossed away the pillow and kissed you, his hand tracing down the side of your body and index finger gathering your excitement to coat your labia and clit. He started slow and asked if you touched yourself or if you had toys. And yes, you had a vibrator that gave you a pretty good impression of what you liked but this was already wildly exceeding anything the vibe brought to the table. “Do you like this?” he was so considerate and when you hitched a breath and told him ‘faster’, the keenness to learn you clouded over and his façade darkened, turned on by you telling him what you liked and he slid another finger into you, trying not to blow his load as you started to cry out, his thumb passing on your thrumming clit and shamed, you held back how much you really wanted to come alive for him.

You knew you couldn’t bite back your moans of pleasure, and as he laughed into your skin, he reached and lifted your sweater and bra, dragging his mouth down to your pretty tits, lapping and licking and sucking as you started the shudder below him. You clawed at his wrist that was buried within you and grinding against you as he toyed with your tits more, kneading and sucking harder. He was gonna blow his load before you even touched him. 

“Oh, Bradley,” your voice was so sweet as you fucked into his hand, quivering and sensitive and wet and desperate as you came. Everything all at once. 

“You’re so sexy,” he crooned with his deep rasp. “I’ve never seen someone cum like this…” He kissed you deeply as you felt the last bursts of electricity flow through your body before flopping into the mattress and urgently pushing his fingers away, too sensitive. He smiled against your lips and told you it was okay, he loved seeing you lose control. 

After you’d cum, and you nervously asked him if you could give him a hand job to return the favour or whatever, he knew he was in love. Young and dumb and no one could tell him differently. How he got to his back and watched as you drag his jeans off and pull down his boxers, his cock so hard, weeping precum. “Tell me if I hurt you,” you mumbled, the most nervous you’d been. “Or if you don’t like it.” 

“You could never hurt me,” he hissed as you used both soft hands to wrap around his length. “That is so fuckin’ good, baby,” he managed, head sinking back into your fluffy pillows, imagining if he was to die tomorrow, he’d die happy. And as he wrapped his hand around yours, showing you the tempo he preferred, he almost came as your wet mouth wrapped around the head of his cock without warning. “Oh, shit,” he hissed unprepared, trying not to fuck your face, his hips wild. He had never been so turned on. 

He’d dated and slept with a few girls, and had a few blowjobs but nothing, nothing felt like this, and he buried his big hands into your hair, massaging and encouraging you as best he could. He screeched a warning he was coming and to take your mouth away if you didn’t want to taste him. When you didn’t relinquish your sweet mouth on him, he came hard in the back of your throat and you swallowed the salty flavour of him down, he pulled you to him and kissed you deeply, telling you he thought he was in love and, silently, he hoped you were too. 

“That was the best head I ever had,” he peered up. “And you’ve never given a blow job before?” he was suspicious. You shook your head bashfully, but also excited he was so happy with your attempt, and you vowed you’d only get better if it brought out this reaction in him. “Feel free any time you wanna practice,” he almost laughed, falling back against the headrest of the bed.

A few hours later, as Bradley pounded into you, you’d be lying if you didn’t feel nostalgic, recalling the first time you had sex with him. It never felt like plain old missionary with him, he tucked you in close and you’d wrap your calves around his hamstrings, keeping him close as he whispered filth in your ear. 

You knew you’d bled, and you were begging not noticeably. You didn’t want that embarrassment, even if the towel caught it. Overall, it wasn’t a painful experience, Bradley had done everything to relax you, the slick of the lube reducing any real friction and he’d gone down on you before he’d even taken off his jeans. “You have the prettiest pussy, baby,” he told you as you shuddered beneath him and he continued fucking you with his fingers until you pushed his face away, so sensitive. “Okay, okay,” he cooed to you, trailing wet kisses up your naked body, exposed wholly to him. 

It had been a very fun few weeks, lots of kissing, touching, and making the other cum and sneaky sleepovers but when you told him you were ready to have sex – with him – your first – Bradley couldn’t believe his luck. He couldn’t believe you would be interested in him, you were so sweet, and kind, and pretty. So sexy and he hoped, all for him. He hadn’t met anyone who he felt so connected to. He worried he was trying too hard to force something that wasn’t there, but as he slowly pushed into you, gloved cock long and girthy, stretching you and you sighed into his ear to tell him how good it felt and that you thought you were falling in love with him, everything stopped.

His hips, lips and heart froze as he must have misheard words he was desperate to return but far too timid to do so. 

“Remember the days we’d be in bed all day and just fuck and laugh. Order takeout and fuck again?” Bradley said between the rolls of his hips. “I wanna be able to do that again,” he groaned in your ear as you fuckingthrobbed around him, so close as you clenched. “I’m gonna take you away in the New Year. You, me, the Maldives. Private villa and all that good lovin’ we deserve.”

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you giggled against him, excited for him and the prospect that you would spend some uninterrupted time together and you rose to meet his thrusts, spurring him on with your enthusiasm. He felt so good: strong, rough and as the head of his cock hit your G-spot, a step closer to orgasm – heaven, he wasn’t sure. He knew your body like it was his, and he brought his fingers between your bodies, brushing against your pained clit as your back arched and his tongue swirled around your nipple. He sucked on the delicate skin, as you began to quake and grunted low, your warm, slick pussy. “Yes, Bradley,” you encouraged. 

“Your pretty cunt was made for me,” he murmured in your ear and that was it, you felt the quakes start in your toes, the muscles in your tummy start to coil and your pussy started to throb around his cock, your entire body on fire with desire for your sexy husband. “Yes, baby,” Bradley kissed you deeply, trying to concentrate on his thrusts but it was impossible as he made you feel so goddamn good. He raised your thigh to get that little rougher and you moaned, the gush fell between you both and he grunted, not giving you a moment of respite, chasing his orgasm. You fell back, completely spent as he laughed darkly, his cock rocking into you again, wrapping his palm around your waist and pulling you back to him. “So close, don’t give up on me now, sweetheart. You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

“Too sensitive,” you whined to him. “Cum, Bradley,” you begged.

It was low and powerful, the feral groan that met your demands. His hips sped up, desperate for release. He couldn’t hold back anymore and as your nails pierced the tanned skin on his back, he came with a low groan and fucked more unruly thrusts into you before collapsing above you, kissing you wildly. He gasped, completely spent, still in you without intent to move. “Gonna need to burn the bed,” he uttered to you as you barely managed a reply. It was fucking like that you missed so desperately when he was away. 

“That was incredible,” you said, kissing some sweat on his brow away. “I love you.” 

He chuckled into your skin, pressing kisses into your pulse. “I love you, baby,” he was a dream, this man. “Good job, team,” he raised his palm for a limp high-five, both spent. 

“Roll the dice,” you reiterate to Bradley. “If we get pregnant, great. If we don’t…”

“It’s you and me and we are great with that,” Bradley answered with the faintest glint of hope in his shining honey eyes. Was this happening? Was Bradley about to get the family he’d been missing for so long?!

But in the back of the afterglow of lovemaking as husband and wife, you’d told him you’d go off birth control after your honeymoon if he wanted to try for a baby so soon. You didn’t want it to be immediate, you wanted to enjoy being married and the fun that came with it. And Bradley wholeheartedly agreed. 

Bradley was so determined to rise through the ranks, that you didn’t want to detract him any more than you might have but you were young and in love and when you found out you were pregnant with your first baby, a girl to be named Violet. The thing was, you were only hoping to be a newlywed once - marriage wasn't as big a thing for you as it was for Bradley so the drama of it all (even as intimate as it was for you was a one-time deal). And even babies. But even he admitted he wouldn't have the first idea of how to do it since his dad wasn't around when he was growing up and Maverick wasn't exactly a glowing example of fatherhood. 

He was a smitten young man. A beautiful wife, and a gorgeous little girl waiting at home for him while he served his country and continued slowly but surely through the ranks, getting a reputation as Rooster, slow into the fight.

Or Rooster, and the size of his cock, you’d joked quietly one evening. The way he seemed so scandalised and as the devil crept into his gold eyes, the grin behind his growing moustache was seen to be believed. Not many people knew that about the version of it, you shared, and when you’d learned he’d been adorned with it, whoever gave him the callsign would rue the day of the double entendre. One of life’s funny coincidences and Bradley wouldn’t wipe the devious smile off his face when you’d christened him with it.

When Violet was three, you found out Olivia was going to come into the world punching. Now both tweens and the baby-making days were well behind you both, you felt like you were starting to live your lives again, not bogged down with school runs, weeknight ballet, gymnastics, basketball, softball, soccer and whatever else they were desperate to try. Both athletic like their father, you felt like a taxi when Bradley was away, running the girls from one thing to the next, the sweet solace sometimes found when both girls were away from home at sleepovers and the like.

They were the nights you couldn’t wait to introduce to Bradley. A date night, Jesus, wine on the couch uninterrupted for a drop-off or pick up to what was for dinner or “Mama, I have an assignment due tomorrow and I haven’t started.”

Recalling when your period was late after about two cycles after going off birth control, you kind of hoped it was the drama of irregular periods and what it brought. It was why you went on the pill in the first place in your teens. 

But there was something different while you channel surfed and Bradley cooked in the kitchen. A strange cramping in your tummy. Not unbearable, but noticeable as you sat up, a little perplexed. It was too early for a period and you weren’t ovulating. Popping up, you joined Bradley in the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his hips to kiss between his shoulder blades. He smiled, turning back for a quick peck before you quietly excused yourself to do a pregnancy test. And you weren’t entirely surprised when it revealed you were 1-2 weeks pregnant. And you weren’t entirely surprised when you showed him the positive pregnancy test after dinner that still certainly said PREGNANT in fat, bold letters.

“It tells you how many weeks?” Bradley was astonished. 

“Clever, huh?” you said quietly. Bradley watched you, he looked at the test, begging it wasn’t about to flash NOT PREGNANT and he’d read incorrectly – but he gazed back at you. Unreadable at best, erring on the side of too quiet. Reserved, he had trouble reading you sometimes, and this was one he'd need you to talk through. He needed to know exactly what was going on through your head. 

“You good?” he asked softly, grasping the test in his strong palm. It was so small, but it held his world in his grip. He put the test down to caress your jaw, forcing your gaze to him. “Baby…” his fingers light as they had sunk into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Sweetheart,” he called to you. 

“I think I am. It’s just… quick," you surrender, falling into his sound touch. And he was due to leave within weeks. You were 23, you had only just found the job of your dreams -

“It is quick,” Bradley agreed, kissing your hair. “Is it too quick?”

“Maybe…” you admitted as he pressed a kiss into your temple and wrapped his strong arms around you. He felt so warm and so protective as he held you without question, you really couldn’t imagine life without him right there. What if something happened on tour, what if - 

“If it’s too soon, that’s okay," he said softly. 

You looked up at him, trying to placate your growing fear. What if he never came home? “I just thought we’d have more time maybe.”

He bit back his smile and sighed. “Sweetheart, is this what you want? If you're not ready - if you have changed your mind - ”

“I’m not sure.”

He nodded. “That’s okay.”

Well, it wasn’t – it was a choice you’d actively made together. To make love, to make a baby. The liberty of changing your mind seemed so incredibly unfair to you and Bradley after you were both so sure this was what you wanted. “I think I just need some time,” you admitted, cutting him off. “Just to get used to it all happening.”

Bradley softened. He in no way felt like it was his place to speak. He could not hold you and whisper that whatever you decided was okay, and he would support you with anything you decided. 

“What if this is our only chance?” You asked quietly. “What if - ” You shut your mouth and the guilt of the situation started to overwhelm you, Bradley chose to remain mute. “Would you hate me?”

“No. Oh sweetheart,” he kissed your hair. “But I would never live with myself if I forced you to do something you weren’t ready for. Come,” he took your hands and led you to the bedroom. He helped you take off your clothes and change into your oversized nightie, his large palm lingering gently over your abdomen for just a second longer than he should have… his baby in your soft belly. 

He pulled back the duvet and patted your pillow. You snuck under the cold sheets and he climbed in after you, the scorching skin of his chest against your back. His fingertips traced your hip, slowly drawing his name on your skin. "If you don't want to do this, it's okay. But it's still something you'll need to consider..."

"I want this," you were able to say, but it was easier with him not boring his eyes into yours. He kissed your shoulder and nuzzled the nape of your neck. “I think…”

"I love you," he said so softly you almost didn't hear him. “I won't let you do this alone. Whatever you decide, I’m right there with you.” 

But with a belly of arms and legs and your sheepish husband standing before you a few months later, you screeched, "You're getting deployed?" you looked at Bradley, eyes wild, six months of baby belly all that separated you. His head fell back.

"I know."

"You know?" you mimicked sarcastically, spoiled for months of your husband home with flight and combat training simulations and he finds himself deployed as you enter your final trimester. "Bradley, you'll be away for the birth of your daughter." 

"I know..." he said a little meeker. He was sick about this conversation. Sick. 

"Did you not put in the leave paperwork?"

"Of course I did,” he did, he did. Didn’t he? Shit, he doubted himself for one second but in this instance knew beggars couldn’t be choosers and he had his leave approved, but he also had his orders and he was so close really getting into it.

His career was on such a sheer trajectory, his head was swimming with its force. 

“Is anyone going with you?”

"Payback, Phoenix," he confirmed softly. 

“Will you be home for Christmas?”

He nodded. “Yes,” he stepped towards you, his large palms sinking into the round belly under his grasp, tickling the stretching skin. You sighed and collapsed into his hold. 

“I’m just scared. The birth is one thing… but I can’t raise our baby on my own,” you said, the fear in your voice evident.

“And I’d never let you,” he whispered into your hair. 

"If you see one ounce of action, I swear, don't dare come home." 

He nodded. Dear God, he knew. 

“Come on, Mama, give it to me,” Bradley urged as he held your ribs, thumbs toying with your nipples, that delicate roll of your hips grinding down on him as the sun started to rise. Neither of you slept even though you were both exhausted, you wanted to ground yourselves together before the madness of the day commenced. Between lovemaking, different positions and so much mess, you just chatted quietly, catching the other up on what they missed, knowing full well you would be next to useless for the lunch Penny was putting on with Mav (you were flying out in a few days to spend New Year with your parents). “Look at you, as sexy as the day I met you,” he continued, chewing his lower lip – he was close but we wouldn’t cum until you did. “Pretty little thing.”

Bradley had leaned into the whole encouragement during sex – and you will credit him for bringing out a wilder side you never knew you had in you – his voice still made your stomach flip flop and how off, give him everything he deserved in your shared pleasure and more.

“Mama, is Daddy home?” you heard a screech from upstairs. Olivia. Daddy’s girl. “His bag is at the door!” A prompise Bradley had always made his girls was he would wake them even if it was the dead of night to reassure them he was home.

Last night… he did not.

Bradley’s eyes flicked open as you paused above him, knowing your girls were unlikely to burst in but also… Dad was home and maybe, just maybe they were likely to run in excitedly. He rolled you off him quickly and you landed with such a lack of grace that he snorted and he tossed his tee at you, hitting you square in the face. He scoffed another chuckle as he reached for his discarded boxer briefs and stood to height, still hard but if you knew him, visualising the worst of the worst to settle. “I’m home. I’ll be right out, just need to hit the bathroom, girls,” he carefully called back, starting for the door and snuck a look back at you. “You got five minutes; I know I can’t hold those two wildcats back from a tree with presents under it.”

You nodded with a grin as you pulled the shirt over your head and moved towards the en suite but not before changing direction and stopping him before he went to see his girls and pulling an old Lakers singlet over his – god, so many golden muscles. “Merry Christmas, Bradley,” you tenderly traced an ab or eight and he smiled, bending to kiss you. “Last night was so good. Been a while since we had a night like that.”

He chuckled lightly against your lips. Pride evident, he shrugged. “I miss the days we’d fuck for hours,” he sighed, low. “We’re going away, just you and me. Okay?”

“I can’t wait, handsome,” you told him as he kissed you again -

“Dad?” Violet now. 

“At ease, Captain,” you told him as he playfully did as instructed, kissed your forehead softly and let the reign of terror commence, greeting his darling girls after months apart with excited hugs, kisses and giggles.

“I missed my girls,” you heard Bradley rumble. And it was always the same, the way he’d swallow back the emotion of seeing how much he’d missed. “You two have to stop growing, okay?”

“Or you could stop traveling,” Olivia said, often quite vocal about how often her dad was away.

Hearing your name as you straightened in front of the mirror a few minutes later, brushing your mussed hair and impatient with the slight burn Bradley’s moustache caused on your upper lip (pussy and thighs but that was a tale for another day), you wrapped yourself in your light gown. You breathed and headed to the living room to start your Christmas morning, your girls perched in front of the tree, the lights still fading in and out after a night left on, and your husband safe and sound on the couch. He winked, the happiest man on the planet with his three girls, everything exactly where it belonged.

Even last night’s half-full wine glass.

[shellbilee]

Hello fellow Aussie! 🇦🇺❤️

It’s my birthday today and I was wondering if I could put in a request for a Glen Powell fic?

Maybe they’ve been doing long distance for a while (they met when she was in the US from Australia for a holiday) and Glen decides to surprise her with him turning up at her door for her birthday or something?

If you can’t..it’s all good 😊

Have a good night! 😁

I am a week late, but happy birthday Queen! I hope you had the greatest day and got absolutely spoilt rotten.

Apologies to all my Hey There Darlin' readers, the next chapter update was delayed because I wanted to put this together for my favourite fellow Aussie. (Next chapter will be up ASAP).

So here's my little gift to you @queenslandlover-93, which would never be enough to thank you for all of your constant support on my work. Much love to you sweets!🩵

---

One Afternoon in Austin

A Glen Powell RPF One Shot Pairing: Glen Powell x Reader Words: 5.5K

You glance down at your phone for the hundredth time, inhaling a long breath when you see no new notifications on the screen.

You sigh, lips stretching into a somber smile at the sight of your two smiling faces pictured on your home screen.

God you missed him.

It had been 18 whole hours since you'd spoken to Glen - not since he'd face timed you at 12.01am, determined to be the first to wish you a happy birthday. You'd answered within three rings, feeling your whole body warm when his gorgeous face appeared on the screen, teeth flashing in the effortlessly handsome, all-American smile that you loved so much. 

Glen.

Even ten months later, you still hadn't quite gotten used to the fact that you were dating Glen Powell, and if you were being honest, you weren’t sure you ever would.  If someone had told you a year ago that you’d be in a serious relationship with one of Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors, you'd have snorted and laughed out loud. 

You'd met Glen when you were solo traveling through the USA last June. You'd been about halfway through your twelve week trip, having started high on the west coast and working your way down South and across, making it to Texas. The plan had been to spend a few days there, first in Austin, then Houston and a couple of other places, before moving onto Louisiana to New Orleans.

Two days into your Austin visit - staying in a modern little air BnB not far from the city, you'd been coming back from a run through the suburbs when you'd come across a little tan and white dog standing alone on the sidewalk. You remembered stopping and looking around, waiting to see if anyone would appear, hoping that someone was walking their dog off lead and hadn't caught up yet. No one appeared to be out searching for it, the surrounding houses seemingly quiet.

You'd knelt down and whistled for the dog, smiling when it wandered over to you immediately, tail wagging and panting happily. You'd cooed at the tiny animal, patting its fluffy head, sitting down on the grass beside it so you could get a better view of its collar.

The dog's name had turned out to be Brisket, a fact you'd found both adorable and amusing, flipping over the metallic name tag to find a phone number engraved on the other side. Deciding that Brisket must have wandered out of his yard and was now lost, you'd picked up the tiny dog and walked the rest of the distance home to your air BnB. Letting Brisket out into your yard, you’d gotten him some water and set about calling the number from his name tag, sitting down on the back porch next to him as you’d listened to the phone ring. 

The phone had ended up ringing through to voicemail, and you’d soon discovered that Brisket’s owner was a man named Glen with a deep Texan accent. You still remembered smiling at the sound of his voice, some part of you internally swooning as you listened to him tell you to leave a message after the tone.

You’d left a quick message, telling him your name and how you’d found Brisket, and that you’d brought him home with you to get him out of the afternoon heat. You’d sent a quick text as well, detailing the same, in case he was otherwise indisposed and unable to take a call. 

Fifteen minutes later you’d been relaxing on the backyard grass with a trashy romance novel, Brisket snoozing peacefully by your side, when your phone had started ringing. Immediately recognising the number as Glen, you’d answered, not at all surprised to hear a panicked voice greeting you instead of the calm, easy going one that had spoken to you in a voicemail.

You’d reassured him that Brisket was fine, healthy and laying happily by your side, explaining that you didn’t have a car, but that you could get an uber to wherever he needed. Glen had offered to come to you but you’d politely declined, not entirely comfortable with giving your address to a stranger when you were traveling solo, instead asking where he was and insisting that you’d go to him. You’d soon discovered on your maps that he was only a ten minute drive from your air BnB, promising that you’d be there soon and that he had no reason to worry about Brisket as he’d thanked you profusely. 

Exactly twenty-three minutes later your Uber had arrived at what you could only describe as a modern Texas mansion, and you remembered the way your jaw had instantly dropped as your eyes had run over the sheer expanse of the property. Telling the Uber driver to stay put, you’d lifted Brisket into your arms and made your way up the palatial driveway, feeling the beginnings of sweat at the back of your neck from the hot Summer afternoon as you’d knocked on the enormous wooden door. 

The Texan royalty, as it turns out, was Glen Powell.

You remembered eyeing off the huge black Ram in the driveway, an expensive black SUV and a smaller white BMW next to it, deciding that you must have stumbled onto some kind of Texan royalty judging by the house and cars in front of you. You’d chuckled to yourself at the thought just as you’d heard the sound of the front door opening, turning around to find a sight that you’d not at all been prepared for.

You’d tried your best not to stumble over your words, certain you looked like a gaping goldfish as you'd introduced yourself and passed a happily wrigging Brisket over to him, thankful for your sunglasses as you’d looked back at him. You remembered thinking that he somehow looked even more handsome in person than he did on screen - a fact that you didn’t think was at all possible, assuring him that it was no problem when he’d thanked you again for finding Brisket. It had taken everything you had not to audibly moan at the sight of him, hoping that your blatant staring wasn’t totally obvious as you took in his stubbled beard and effortlessly charming smile, golden tanned skin and thick, muscled arms.

God.

What you hadn’t known, and would eventually discover weeks later, was that Glen was just as shocked to find you when he had opened his front door - a gorgeous young woman standing alone with a smile that had quite literally stopped him in his tracks and left him momentarily lost for words.

He’d thanked you again and you’d promised him that it was really no issue at all, offering a small wave as you’d turned to make your way back to your waiting Uber. Just when you'd been thinking that meeting Glen Powell had to be the highlight of your trip, you'd heard Glen call out your name and tell you to wait. You remembered turning around to face him then, only to find him taking a step towards you with Brisket still in his arms.

He’d proceeded to ask if you'd wanted to come in for a drink, adding that he had to somehow thank you for finding Brisket. You'd declined of course, reasoning that you had to get back to your Uber - and even now you could still remember the distinct feeling of every single fiber of your body screaming at you to reconsider as Glen continued to insist you stay.

“Please come in?”

He’d asked again, the look on his face making it near impossible to say no, emphasizing that the least he could do was offer you a drink and temporary reprieve from the afternoon heat. You remembered standing there for a moment, seemingly frozen in place, weighing up your potential options.

Get back in the Uber and go back to your air BnB.

Or;

Take up the offer for a drink with one of the most attractive men you’d ever met. 

Thinking back to that moment now, you wondered how you ever possibly considered otherwise.

Giving in to Glen, you'd jogged back to the Uber and thanked him for waiting, telling him he could go before making your way back to Glen at the front door. It was at that moment that you’d felt Glen’s eyes on you - running subtly over your figure, suddenly becoming self conscious that you were still sporting the shorts and tank activewear combo you’d worn on your run earlier. 

On the transcript of your life, this was certainly not the outfit you’d envisioned wearing if you ever came across a gorgeous Hollywood celebrity.

Anyway.

He’d invited you in and you’d accepted gratefully, instantly thankful for the cool of the air conditioner as you followed him down the enormous hallway. He’d since put Brisket down, the tiny dog now happily trotting alongside his owner, the sight making you long for Flynn, your three year old Australian Shepherd dog back home.  

The sound of voices at the end of the hallway made you stop in your tracks, Glen turning around and looking back at you concerned. You’d stammered wide eyed, telling him you didn’t want to interrupt if he had people over, instantly feeling like an intruder despite Glen’s genuine insistence that you weren’t. He’d stepped towards you then - close enough that you remembered the exact moment the scent of his sweet cologne hit you, his sage green eyes looking back at you earnestly and promising that you weren’t interrupting, that it was just his family that was over for a barbecue.

That new information had sent an instant tidal wave of nervousness crashing down your spine, your heartbeat immediately heavy in your ears. Now not only were you being invited into Glen Powell’s home, you were also seconds away from spontaneously meeting his family. 

Fuck.

You remembered laughing then - a short, giddy bubble of laughter, Glen’s face splitting into a smile as you did so. Your laugh had been one of incredulousness, your brain unable to fathom the situation that you were currently in.

Of all the things you’d imagined you’d do whilst on your solo travels, this was most certainly not one of them.

Glen had gestured with his hand for you to follow him and somehow your frozen feet were able to oblige, the hallway opening up into an expansive open kitchen and living area, complete with enormous glass french doors that opened onto a luxury deck and pool outside. 

You remembered not knowing where to look first - at the enormous turquoise pool, or the insanely stunning view of rolling hills and a lake behind it, the luxury styled interior of the house or the adorable little blonde girl in her swimmers that was staring curiously at you from the back doorway.

Almost immediately she’d spoken, pointing and asking her uncle Glen very loudly who you were, her voice making the rest of the people outside stop and look inside. You remembered your face flaming then, embarrassment flushing your skin as you'd fought the urge to sprint back towards the front door.

You didn’t have a fear of public speaking but in that moment it felt like you had spontaneously developed one.

Glen had informed his niece - who you’d soon discovered was named Gwen, of your name and explained that you were the girl that had found Brisket and brought him home, an older lady suddenly appearing from somewhere inside the house and clapping her hands happily when she’d spied Brisket at Glen’s feet.

As it turned out, it was Lauren’s and Will’s house - Glen’s sister and brother in law, and Witt, their son and twin brother of Gwen, had accidentally opened the back gate and Brisket had wandered out, unbeknownst to everyone at the barbecue. Glen, who had just finished grilling had whistled for Brisket to offer him a cut off of steak, only to find that Brisket had gone missing and that the back gate was open. Just as everyone had scrambled to find keys to go out and look for him, Glen had picked up his phone and seen the text from you, prompting everyone to relax knowing that Brisket was safe.

The lady had turned out to be Glen’s mother Cindy, Glen immediately introducing the two of you as she offered her own thanks for finding Brisket before pulling you in for a hug.The gesture had taken you by surprise but offered a surprising amount of comfort, the nervousness that had your knees threatening to give way slowly easing.

Fifteen minutes later, you’d been introduced to the entire Powell family and were seated on an outdoor lounge by the pool next to Glen’s younger sister Leslie, wine in hand and nominated an additional judge of the pool diving contest between Gwen, Witt and their dad Will. You’d clapped and laughed your way through it, thankful for your sunglasses for the second time in less than twenty minutes when Glen had taken his shirt off and joined as a fourth participant in the contest. 

God.

You remembered biting the inside of your cheek so hard you’d drawn blood, using every ounce of strength you had to look away when Glen had emerged from the pool, water droplets sliding down his golden, muscled form. 

Later you'd found yourself sitting and talking with Glen’s other sister Lauren and his dad Glen Senior, telling them all about your trip in the US so far and how you’d come to find yourself in Texas. They in turn had asked you about yourself and you’d shared about your home back in Australia, your job, Flynn and your family, Glen coming to join at some point later sitting down on the lounge beside you with a drink refill.

You’d talked and laughed with the Powell’s for the rest of the afternoon, all of your nerves from earlier having seemingly disappeared. It was like you’d known them all for months rather than only an hour, feeling right at home with the bubbly, extraverted, Texan family. They’d asked you about your plans for the remainder of the trip, offering their own tips and recommendations for the rest of your time in Texas which you’d accepted gratefully, making mental notes to adjust your itinerary.

Eventually the afternoon had faded into early evening, Glen Senior and Cindy saying their goodbyes and wishing you all the best for the rest of your trip, Leslie following suit soon after and making you promise that you’d say goodbye before you left Texas. 

You’d grabbed your bag announcing that you should probably get home too, Glen interrupting and insisting that he’d take you on his way back home. You knew better than to decline his offer, concluding that based on the day you’d had there was no reasoning with him. You’d said your goodbyes to Lauren and Will, thanking them for their hospitality for the afternoon, comforting Gwen with a hug when she’d gotten teary at you leaving - the two of you having bonded earlier when you’d told her that her diving was as good as a dolphin's and she’d told you that they were her favourite animal. 

Glen had driven you home then, the two of you settling into a comfortable silence, Brisket snoozing peacefully on your lap in the passenger seat. Pulling up to your air BnB, Glen had asked what your plans were for tomorrow and you’d informed him that you hadn’t quite decided yet - but you were tossing up between going out to see Lake Travis, or heading out into the hills to visit the country sights. 

Flashing you a smile that had made you momentarily lose your train of thought, Glen had offered you an alternative option - let him take you out for the day to show you a side of Austin from a local’s point of view. You remembered staring back at him then, your brain trying to ascertain whether or not you were dreaming that Glen Powell had just asked you to spend the day with him, looking at his perfectly handsome face and uttering an animated yes to his proposal.

He'd kissed you on the cheek and wished you a goodnight, telling you that he’d pick you up at ten AM before thanking you again for finding Brisket. You’d laughed and assured him for the tenth time that day that it was really no problem, thanking him for having you today and saying your own goodbye. He’d waited until you’d unlocked the door of your air BnB and you’d waved as you’d walked inside, your cheeks hurting from smiling as you’d closed the door behind you and leaned back against the wood.

Unbeknownst to you, the plans for the rest of your solo USA trip were about to be turned completely upside down. 

The next day with Glen turned out to be everything you’d imagined and more, the two of you talking, flirting and laughing from the moment he’d picked you up. He’d started the day by driving the two of you out to Lake Travis where you’d spent the morning stand up paddleboarding, Glen showing you his favourite spots on the lake and telling you about his family’s lakeside ranch a few hours out of Austin. Next was lunch from what Glen had promised was ‘the best Texan barbecue house’ in all of Texas, ordering his favourite steak sandwiches which quickly became the best meal you’d eaten on your trip so far.

After lunch he’d taken you on a hike through one of Austin’s national parks, the end of which had brought you to one of the most incredible sights you’d ever seen - a waterfall that spilled over a huge bowl-shaped canyon into a large swimming hole below. Glen had convinced you to walk the perimeter through the cave-like canyon until you were standing beneath the falling water, looking up at the natural sight in awe as Glen had snapped several photos of you and then the two of you together.

Looking out at the sunset, sitting beside Glen with his arm around your shoulders, you remembered thinking that this day - a day that would forever go down as one of the best days of your life, couldn’t possibly have gotten any better. 

After your hike he’d taken you over to wine country, where he’d introduced you to his good friends Daniel and Amy - owners of one of the most well-known vineyards and breweries in Fredericksburg. They’d given you a private tour of their venue before you’d sat down for drinks, looking out at the picturesque green vineyard and seemingly endless rolling hills, a stunning Texas sunset bathing everything in a gorgeous, orange glow.

And then, just like that, it had.

Glen had driven you back to your air BnB and you’d promptly invited him for a drink, not quite ready to end your day with him. He’d happily accepted your proposal, parking his truck and following you in, sitting down on the living room couch as you’d gotten you both a beer. 

What followed was an evening of more stories and laughs, more flirting and mischievous teasing, the tension only growing between you as the night went on. Eventually though, as if neither of you could no longer fight it, Glen had leaned in and kissed you, his lips moving against yours with a soft, passionate want.

That passion quickly became tangible, like a craving neither of you could satisfy, lips and hands growing desperate until you’d both lost several items of clothing and Glen was asking where the bedroom was. 

You remembered thinking in that moment - when Glen was carrying you to the bed, his lips pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to the hollow of your throat, that there would be no coming back from this. You’d sleep with Glen Powell, and tomorrow this would become nothing more than a fond memory for the both of you. 

After all, he was a Hollywood celebrity and you weren’t. 

He lived in Texas and you lived in Australia.

It would never work.

And so you’d decided, as Glen had laid you down on the bed and kissed his way down your body, that you’d forget all about tomorrow and just enjoy tonight.

Every single, sweaty second of it.

And all three delicious rounds of it.

When morning had arrived you’d fully expected to wake up to an empty bed, pleasantly surprised to instead find yourself wrapped in Glen's arms, his chest pressed firmly against your back. He'd felt you stirring, pressing gentle kisses to the back of your neck, his actions teasing soft moans from you that quickly turned into a tangle of sheets and naked limbs all over again.

What followed was two more days with Glen, the two of you spending almost all of your time together - him showing you all of his favourite things about his hometown, and even catching up with his sister Leslie again when she'd joined you both at a live music night that had ended with the two Powell's introducing you to line dancing. There'd been endless stories and laughs and adorable cuddles with Brisket, constant flirting and stolen kisses, and several more rounds of what had quickly become the best sex you'd ever had.

You'd proceeded to become only more and more infatuated with Glen, even despite the constant nagging feeling in the back of your mind telling you that this would soon all have to come to its inevitable end. You’d known that conversation was coming, like a looming tornado that threatening to destroy your happy bubble with Glen at any moment, and on your last night in Austin as you’d sat on Glen’s couch with Brisket on your lap and wine in hand, it finally happened. 

You’d told him that it was okay, that you had no expectations of him and that you’d known all along that this was only ever going to be a vacation fling, assuring him that you’d loved every single second of your time and adventures together with him. Glen had been silent for a long moment then, looking back at you as he’d sat beside you on the couch with his gorgeous green eyes boring into your own, eventually taking your hand in his and telling you just how wrong you were.

He’d told you that he’d never before met a girl like you.

He'd told you that he’d never felt the way he had about someone he’d known for only three days.

He'd told you that he’d loved every single moment that you’d spent together and that he knew if he didn't tell you how he felt, he'd be forever wondering.

You swore in that moment that you’d forgotten how to breathe, your heart in your throat as you'd realized the implications of what Glen was saying to you.

You remembered wondering if you were really going to do this, if you could actually be in a relationship with Glen - in a relationship that was not only long distance, but also with a famous celebrity. You knew it would turn your world upside down and back to front a million times over, but the longer you’d looked back at Glen, getting lost in the gaze that was seemingly looking right through you, you’d realized that above all else, you were willing to try.

You’d fallen into his arms then, falling into one another over and over again, first on the couch, and then the shower, and then finally in his bed, eventually drifting off to sleep wrapped around one another as the evening ended and morning brought with it the inevitable tomorrow.

The rest of your trip had seemingly flown by, seeing the sights and experiencing the best of New Orleans, Jackson, Memphis and Nashville, making your way north to Boston and later New York where your twelve week trip would come to an end. Though those six weeks couldn’t compare to the time you’d spent with Glen in Austin and you’d missed him terribly, you’d spoken to him almost constantly throughout the rest of your travels - sending photos and videos, texting and face timing, following his advice and recommendations of the best places to go and see. 

What you hadn’t known and would only find out upon checking into your hotel room when you’d arrived in New York, was that Glen had organized to fly up to surprise you. You remembered feeling like you’d won the lottery when the hotel concierge had advised that you’d received a complimentary room upgrade to a suite, and just as you’d thought that your trip couldn’t possibly have wrapped up any better, you’d opened the suite door to find Glen waiting for you.

When you’d finally gotten over the shock of seeing him again, after you’d jumped into his embrace and kissed him with all of the emotions that you’d held in since Austin, Glen had taken you out for a romantic night on the town - and continued to do the same for every night that followed for the rest of your trip.

Eventually your solo travels had come to an end, Glen kissing you tenderly and promising that you’d see each other again soon, holding you tight in his arms as you’d sat outside JFK airport on the day of your flight home. You remembered trying to take in everything about your last few minutes with Glen then - the smell of his cologne, the feel of his lips on your hair, the warmth of his chest as he held you pressed against him, desperate to prolong your last moments together not knowing when you’d next get the chance.

A tender goodbye that you swore you wouldn’t ruin with tears, one final kiss that you’d forever commit to memory and a promise that together you could make this work, you’d waved to Glen and made your way through the departure gates, boarding your flight home to Australia.

The months that followed had given you a new found respect for people in long distance relationships, missing Glen more than you thought possible - even with your constant communication. Some small part of you had expected your relationship to fizzle out a week after you’d arrived home - that your time with Glen would be nothing more than a memory, a story you told people about when they’d ask about your overseas travels, but just as you’d promised on your last day together, you and Glen had made it work.

He’d come to visit you three months after your trip, staying with you for two whole weeks in October. You'd shown him around your city in the same way he’d done with Austin, introducing him to your friends and eventually your family after your sister had all but begged to meet him, your dog Flynn loving Glen just as much as Brisket had you.

Those two weeks had been incredible, and as close to domestic bliss as you'd ever gotten, loving waking up to Glen each morning and falling asleep wrapped in his arms each night. Then there was the sex - both of you obviously desperate to make up for the three months apart, spending the first two days of his visit practically locked inside and christening every surface of your house.

All too soon it was time to say goodbye again, but not before you'd made plans to see each other for Christmas. You'd flown back to the states for the holidays two months later, the Powell family welcoming you back with open arms, Brisket especially happy to see you as he'd happily licked at your face. You’d gotten to experience your first ever Winter Christmas that year holing up at the Powell's family ranch, eating, drinking, dancing and laughing all the way through to New Years Eve, feeling nothing but love as you celebrated with Glen's sisters, parents and the twins.

The rest of that trip had gone by all too quickly, and soon you were saying your teary goodbyes all over again before you’d headed back home to Australia. This time you hadn't been able to plan your next visit with Glen - his latest film projects beginning and finally introducing you to life as a famous actor's girlfriend. You'd found yourself feeling consistently grateful for your job, friends and family then, their presence keeping your mind busy and away from thoughts of Glen’s chaotic schedule and the fact that you had no idea when you'd next get to see him.

It was at the Powell’s annual New Year's Eve party that Glen had told you he loved you, just as the clock had struck midnight and everyone had erupted into cheers of happiness. You remembered that moment vividly, your heart still racing whenever you thought about it, the two of you standing on the edge of the lake as Glen had wrapped you in his arms and kissed you, pulling away just enough so that he could whisper those three perfect words. 

And so, that had brought you all the way to June - nearly five months since you'd last seen him, as Glen had worked insane hours on a four month long shoot for his newest movie. Alongside the Australian Winter, made worse by the fact that you missed your boyfriend more than you'd previously thought possible, June had also brought with it something else seemingly upsetting - your birthday, also known as your thirty second lap around the sun.

Still, your friends had pulled out all the stops to celebrate your day - your three closest girlfriends taking you out on a spa date complete with a full body massage, facial and pedicure, followed by a tasting and lunch at the most stunning of vineyards which had continued well into the early evening. Your boozy, extended lunch had later turned into dinner and cocktails at a rooftop bar in the city, which soon turned into singing and dancing at a nearby karaoke bar despite your vehement protesting.

That's how you'd come to find yourself sitting in the booth with one of your friends, looking down at your notification-less phone as the other two girls performed an intoxicated rendition of It’s Raining Men on stage.

Though the girls had spoiled and pampered you on your day, it hadn't quite been enough to completely take your thoughts off of Glen and that fact that you hadn't heard from him all day. You knew he was busy with his shoot - having since learned that sometimes they could go for several hours at a time, knowing that there were many occasions where he just wasn’t able to have his phone on him in the middle of all the chaos. Still, despite not hearing from him since the early hours of the morning, he'd still somehow managed to spoil you on your birthday - organizing your favourite coffee and breakfast to be delivered to your door this morning, alongside the biggest bunch of stunning red roses that you'd ever seen. 

When you'd arrived at the winery for lunch later there'd been a second bunch of flowers, this one somehow bigger than the last, an exotic mix of eclectic tiger lillies and striking orchids, the colours bold, bright and beautiful. Alongside them had been a note, short and simple in the way that was classically Glen, telling you that he loved you with his whole heart and that he hoped you were having the best day with your friends for your birthday.

You and the girls had called it a night just before midnight, your own tipsy performance of Proud Mary signaling the end of your birthday. You kissed and thanked your girlfriends, incredibly grateful for the three of them in your life, waving goodbye to them in the taxi and making your way inside.

In any other circumstance, Flynn's lack of barking at your arrival would have alerted you to the idea that something was up, but in your several-drinks-too-many state you didn't quite pick up on that. So when you opened the front door to your house and found Glen standing in your kitchen looking back at you with the biggest smile on his face, all you could do was stare back at him momentarily - your brain a whirring mix of alcohol, surprise, overwhelm and love.

Eventually you separated enough that you could ask him what he was doing here and why he hadn't told you, Glen smiling and explaining between kisses that he was never going to not see you for your birthday. As it turned out he had the flight organized weeks ago, and had enlisted your friend's help to keep you busy while he made the long haul flight over, having planned all along to surprise you at the end of the night.

You ran at him then, bounding into his waiting arms and holding onto him with everything you had, burying your face in his neck as he whispered happy birthday baby in your hair. Depositing you on the kitchen bench he'd cupped your face and captured your lips in a tender kiss, both of you pouring all of the thoughts and emotions from your months apart into your intimate embrace.

Just as you launched into your next barrage of questions - about his latest project, about the film shoot, about his family and about Brisket, Glen had tilted your chin and silenced you with a slow, heavy kiss, the action leaving you breathless and momentarily lost for words.

“All of that can wait” Glen breathed, lips hovering over your own as his hand moved into your hair, “We’ll have time for questions later darlin’”.

“Later?” you asked, voice barely louder than a whisper, letting out a shaky breath when his free hand cupped the back of your bare thigh and pulled your body flush against his.

“Later” Glen affirmed, his silky voice low and his Texan accent thick, his intentions instantly clear when he rolled his hips into yours with a breathy, almost desperate groan, “First I’m gonna take you to bed and give my girl a proper happy birthday”.

---

TAG LIST FOR GLEN POWELL FICS:

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[irisintheafterglow]

lights, camera, bitch, smile!

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: taylor swift - "i can do it with a broken heart"

summary: it's your first time headlining the biggest music festival in the country, and your guitarist is nowhere to be found. good thing your other headliner-- and billboard chart rival-- can play guitar, right? right? (rockstar!gojo x popstar!reader)

wc: 2.73k

cw/tags: implied fem!reader but gn pronouns used, rivals to lovers, he falls first, mild angst (descriptions of a panic attack)/fluff with happy ending

note: this is another fic as a part of @ficsforgaza and a gift for @um-no-ok for donating and supporting palestinian families! interested in being a part of this initiative? check out my masterpost ! hope you enjoy this, i had a lot of fun writing it :)

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated!

“You’re sure the flight is still running late?” You plead, head in your hands as the tech lead, your publicist, and your manager sit apologetically on the other sofa in your trailer. “We can’t send out a car to go grab them from the airport as soon as they land?”

“Getting off festival grounds will be hard enough, not to mention battling the traffic of incoming guests,” the tech guy reminds you with a shake of his head, exhaling deeply as his radio crackles, another warning that you need to be on stage to sound check. In a matter of hours, you would be headlining the biggest music festival in the country, and both your guitarists were stranded hundreds of miles away. They should have known better than to take a gig right before the festival, but you let them do it anyway because it was only a 30 minute flight between the airports. But, after a stray bird flock nearly downed another passenger plane, the tarmac was backed up for the time being. “Can you try asking around to see if someone can fill in for them?”

“And maybe hire them instead,” your publicist mutters under her breath, seething. You shoot her a wry smile, absentmindedly fidgeting with the plug of your in-ear monitors.

“The band is out trying to find guitarists, but it’ll be hard to ask someone to fill in because of scheduling issues and the number of stages there are this year.” Your manager takes a peek at her watch and looks at you with regret. “You need to go soundcheck, guitarists or not.” 

“We have a drummer, a bassist, two keyboardists, and a vocalist. You’re gonna make them go out there with a jazz band and expect them to sing the biggest pop songs on the planet?” Your publicist, bless her heart, voices what you’d been dreading since you got the call from your lead guitarist. It was the biggest test to your professionalism since your career took off and you silently wished you’d paid attention to those tour bus guitar lessons. “How bad would it be to push back the set, even thirty minutes?”

“Bad, very bad. There’ve already been more delays than anticipated that aren’t music related,” the tech lead replies with a grimace. Your publicist curses under her breath and gives you a look telling you to get on stage. “And, it’s too late to fly in guitar tracks, even if we had them.” Shit. You’d just have to trust your team to figure something out, you figure, grabbing your sunglasses from the coffee table and exiting the trailer. 

The rest of your band is already plugged in by the time the golf cart drives you to the main stage where you’d be performing. The ruthless summer sun competed with barely any clouds, blazing anything in its sight and leaving you breaking a sweat, even in the shade. A stage hand slips a wireless pack onto the waistband of your shorts and the click of the volume knob brings you the dweedling sounds of your band. The audience lot is relatively empty, thankfully, save for a few brave souls who were taking care of sound. Steeling your nerves, you shoot the audio tent a thumbs up, pop in your in-ears, and wait for the click track to run. 

CLICK! 2-3-4. CLICK! 2-3-4. Intro, 2-3-4. 1…2…1-2-3 and– 

The synth intro of your walkout song rings concerningly quiet in your ears and you tap your in-ears a few times, signaling the sound tent with a thumbs-up until the rest of the keyboards are audible. Not a great start to sound check, but that’s what this time was for, right?

CLICK! 2-3-4. CLICK! 2-3-4. Drums and bass in. 1…2…1-2-3 and– 

Nothing. 

The click continues its monotonous beat and you vaguely make out bass at the bottom of your mix, but you and your drummer look at each other with the same confused expression. She taps her ears, shaking her head. 

“W-Wait, wait, wait. Can we stop, please?” You speak your request into your mic, disheartened to not hear your own voice in your mix. The synths stop abruptly, as does bass, and a dozen tech people rush onstage to fix various audio problems. “This is a nightmare,” you mutter, wiping the beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead. 

“It’s always mix issues, isn’t it?” As if your irritation couldn’t increase, your eye twitches on its own when you register the voice of the person standing at the bottom of the stage. All shining white hair and dark, round rimmed sunglasses, Gojo Satoru was the last person you wanted to be interacting with. To say he looked good would be an understatement and your eyes look for any place to focus on other than his chest under his unbuttoned shirt. “For what it’s worth, you sound pretty on the mic.”

“What do you want?” Your voice is tired already, as is your entire body. Figuring out who would replace both your guitarists had sapped your energy and doors weren’t even open yet. “I don’t have the time nor the energy to debate with you today–”

“Heard you were looking for guitarists,” he cuts in and you narrow your eyes. The last thing you needed was your Billboard chart rival mocking you and your current situation. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that. You and I both know you’re in a less-than-ideal spot right now.”

“Choose your next words very wisely, Gojo,” you seethe, using every ounce of your willpower to remain civil. “If you’re here to tease me, I don’t wanna fucking hear it.” 

“I wanna help you,” he says before you’ve stalked out of earshot. “I can fill in for your lead and Suguru can play rhythm. I’ve already talked to him about it and he’s down. We’ve got the chords alright, but if anything funky happens, we’ll just follow your bassist. We’re pros for a reason, aren’t we?” 

“I don’t need your help, Gojo,” you lie, desperately looking around for anything to get you out of this conversation. 

“Thought I told you to call me Satoru when we were at that awards show.” His voice was always velvet smooth, disarmingly charming, and you hated the way it drew you in like a moth to a candle. 

“I don’t remember that; and, if you did, I still don’t care.” We’re back on, says a voice through your ears. Starting the click on your cue, lead. 

“Seems like you don’t remember a lot about what happened that night. I wouldn’t mind recounting it for you since it seemed like you had so much fun,” he baits coolly and you fall for it, storming back to the front of the stage and looking him square in his pretty face. Memory remnants of dancing in colorful strobe lights and running your hands through his hair appear in your mind’s eye before you can stop them, and it must register on your face. “Ah, so maybe you do remember what happened if you’re this angry about it.”

“We’re rivals, Gojo,” you hiss, your vision close to going scarlet. “We’re not supposed to be buddy-buddy, and what happened at that afterparty was a slip of my better judgment.”

“We’re not supposed to be, or you’re scared to be?” His question hangs in the air and you have no choice but to glare at him, waiting for him to back down when you know he never will. After a long pause, he sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. “Look, I know you’re in need of guitarists and I just wanna help. Consider it a favor.”

“Favors need to be paid back,” you counter skeptically, “and you’re the last person I want to owe.” 

“Not my kind of favors,” he says, more genuinely than you’re used to him being. “Just…think about it, yeah?” You don’t have time to dwell on why he was being so nice to you, though, as you give the audio tent a thumbs-up again. CLICK! 2-3-4. CLICK! 2-3-4. Intro, 2-3-4. 1…2…1-2-3 and– 

By the time you’ve suffered through soundcheck, changed into your stage outfit, and inhaled more setting spray than should be considered healthy, the sun has become a laser. Gojo is nowhere to be found, thankfully, and you spend the rest of the time before your set pacing your trailer like a caged animal. There wasn’t any room in your mind to think about the crowd, the heat, or the extensive team counting on you to make it a worthwhile show. All that you could focus on was your lack of guitarists and the proposition from your #1 enemy in the music industry. Before you could cross from the kitchen tile to the living area carpet for the umpteenth time, the door threw itself open to reveal your breathless manager. 

“We found guitarists! Let’s go, before they change their mind,” she commands. You thank the music festival gods for whomever she found, even happier knowing that it couldn’t be Gojo and Geto because their band had just finished on the other largest stage. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you answer uneasily, still reeling from switching panic-mode into show-mode within minutes. “Let’s just hope they’re good.” 

This next artist needs no introduction…

The golf cart parks sidestage. 

Dominating the pop charts for twelve straight weeks, taking the industry by storm…

You wink at the handful of screaming fans that spot you before ducking backstage. 

And nominated for the most prestigious awards in the music world…

The stagehand slips the pack onto the waistband of your pants and hands you a mic. 

Performing live and streaming around the world… [CLICK! 2-3-4. CLICK! 2-3-4. Intro, 2-3-4. 1…2…1-2-3 and–] Make some noise for–

“Yo, Satoru. You got an extra pick?” Your synths come in at the same time you whirl around, heart dropping into your stomach when you see the two guitarists behind you. You recognize Geto with his signature black hair tied up in a bun and catching rays of sunlight reflecting off the turtle shell body of his electric guitar. The limited interactions you had with Geto were pleasant, but the same couldn’t be said about the other musician fishing a pick from his leather pants. “Thanks,” Geto says as he sticks the spare in his pocket, clocking your shocked expression and giving you an apologetic shrug. “Sorry we’re a little late, the set ran a little long because this dumbass wanted to do another encore. I made the golf cart guy race over here, though.” He motions in the direction of your temporary lead guitarist, who unsuccessfully tries to clean his sunglasses with his fishnet shirt. “Oi, hotshot. Get ready, we’re on soon.” CLICK! 2-3-4. CLICK! 2-3-4. Drums and bass in. 1…2…1-2-3 and– 

“They’re smudged,” Gojo pouts and you act without thinking, snatching the glasses from his hands, wiping it on your own costume, and handing it back to him without meeting his gaze. “Oh. Thank you,” he mumbles, sticking them on his face and trying to catch your eye. There were too many things happening at once for you to worry about him.

“Mhmm. Thanks for filling in,” you choke out with no trace of malice, the pressure in your forehead and chest becoming suffocating. The gravity of your performance crashes down on you in one disorienting wave and you blink in an attempt to clear the sudden blurry spots in your vision. Hundreds of thousands of eyes, waiting on you, watching you, worshiping you. The biggest performance of your career thus far, and you were going onstage prepared with nothing but a terrible soundcheck and two rock stars that probably didn’t give a shit about pop music. It was too much, it was all too much–

“Hey.” It’s him, breaking through the static as the click fades into the background, any panic replaced by the feeling of your biggest rival lightly touching the side of your face. He wipes a stray bead of sweat from your forehead, and you’re close enough to see every shimmering fleck of turquoise in his eyes. The crowd noise is staggering, but all he sees is you. “You look beautiful.” 

“Satoru,” you whisper, barely able to verbalize your panic. He understands anyway, confidence radiating from his body. 

“I’m with you. I’ve gotcha,” he reassures you, letting you mirror him as he takes a deep breath. “You trust me?” CLICK! 2-3-4. CLICK! 2-3-4. Guitars in, vocals enter. 1…2…1-2-3 and–

“I-I do.” 

“Great.” His grin is dazzling, heart-stopping. All of him, he’s yours. “Let’s have some fun, then.” 

— 

You sleepily blink open an eye as you register the ringtone for your publicist playing on the nightstand. Outstretching a tired arm, you find it a little hard to move with the other occupant of the bed securing you against his chest. You mutter Satoru’s name, unsure if he’s awake yet; he grunts with his eyes still closed and you figure it’s unconscious, the way his muscles tighten around your waist to pull you closer. You groan as the phone screen blinks off, then on again with another insistent call. 

“Satoru, you need to let me go.”

“I already did that once,” he mumbles into the pillowcase, “and I’m not making that mistake again.”

“I need to pick up the phone, baby. It’s my publicist,” you counter gently and it’s his turn to groan, reluctantly peeling away to rub his eyes. “Thank you,” you say sweetly, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before answering the phone. 

There you are. Good morning, Sleeping Beauty, says your publicist, her incredulity obvious.

“Mhmm, good morning to you too. Everything okay?” You squint against the morning sun breaking through the windows of Satoru’s loft, the city skyline casting rainbows on the walls. 

Everything’s great, just wanted to let you know what’s been happening media-wise. 

“They figure out where we are yet?”

Not yet, no. But, you know how these things go. They’ll find you eventually, so savor the time you have with him now. Right now, you have a lot of late-night outlets asking for interviews and a few charity ball performances lined up. It’s all stuff you can handle, don’t worry. Aside from the scheduling talk, her warnings were things you already knew. It was weeks before social media users finally settled down after Satoru and Suguru joined you on stage. Satoru had even convinced you to create a burner account so you could scroll through all the edits and fancams of you two. Now that you’d reconciled your feelings about Satoru and agreed to let you two make up for all the time you lost to your stubbornness, it was relatively peaceful. On another note, I did see a pretty cute reel counting all the times he looked at you during your festival set. 

“Yeah? And how many times was it?”

More than you looked at him, which is saying something, she chuckles. I’m still reeling from how chaotic the crowd was when those two walked out with you. You’d think there was a fire breaking out, or something. 

“They were pretty loud, weren’t they?” You smile softly at the memory of strutting out in your boots with Satoru and Suguru on either side of you. “I think they went crazier when Satoru started soloing, though.”

“I’m not called the best for nothing, sweetheart,” he murmurs from behind you with a smirk. “These hands are worth millions, and you get them for free–”

“Okay, that’s enough from you,” you cut in before he says anything more. “Please, ignore him.”

What’d he say? 

“Nothing important.” Your cheeks heat and you shoot him a look over your shoulder, only to be met by a self-satisfied wink that makes your heart race. 

I’ll take your word for it. What’s your plans for today? 

“Breakfast, probably, and then maybe head down to the shopping district.”

That’s pretty public, no? 

“I don’t mind. I’m ready for whatever they throw at us,” you shrug, honestly feeling like you couldn’t care less about being seen with Satoru. You look over at him again and find boyish, giddy excitement written all over his face. He was yours and you were his, mind, body, and soul. Let the cameras come, let the tabloids rave, let the fake fans criticize, you think to yourself.

As long as you two were together, you were untouchable.

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