#but it comes from something private so... no story for ya

[caligatinsole]

team dark.

[pedroscurls]

touch starved (one-shot)

summary: logan agreed to go out with wade, having been promised a low-key night, but he should've known than to trust wade for his word. he didn't agree to spend his night at a strip club and he's just about ready to leave until he sees you. pairing: worst!wolverine x fem!reader content warnings: explicit smut (18+, mdni), porn without plot, lap dance, grinding / humping, striptease, one night stand (you take logan back to your apartment), unprotected p in v (be safe folks!), cowgirl, reader takes charge (and logan's more than happy to let you take the lead), oral - m receiving, swallowing logan's release. basically this story is all about catering to logan and his needs 🙂‍↕️, reader description (only clothes and hair), no use of y/n. word count: 3k a/n: coming at ya with yet another one-shot of logan filth lol. my own headcanon is that logan / worst!wolverine is touch starved (just as much as he craves to be part of something bigger than himself). anyway, hope y'all enjoy - it's a spicy one 🤭 song: closer by nine inch nails

“You promised a quiet night out, Wade,” Logan snarls at the other man, hand gripping his glass of whiskey. It’s too loud in here, the music blaring from the speakers, the flashing dark red lights illuminating mainly the stage where women are performing. There are plenty of men surrounding the stage, alcohol in one hand and dollar bills in the other.

“I promised no such thing,” Wade grins. “I said let’s go out and you agreed.”

Logan’s jaw tightens and he looks at Wade with narrowed eyes. “You’re a fuckin’ liar.” 

Wade laughs. “Come on, peanut! Have some fun. Let loose. Just sit back and relax–”

“I’m leavin’,” Logan interrupts, downing his entire glass before slamming it on the table. He stands up and gets ready to turn on his heel when he catches a glimpse of you at the corner of his eye. He turns slightly and watches the way your smile meets your eyes. You don’t look like you belong in a place like this, the other women wearing too much make up and revealing so much that it leaves little to the imagination. But you… You look absolutely breathtaking and Logan feels like he can’t move, can’t tear his eyes away from you.

Your hair cascades past your shoulders, your make up remaining light and natural. You’re dressed in an all black sheer robe with a lace cuff and satin waist belt. The robe is loosely wrapped around your frame, giving Logan a glimpse of your sheer mesh bra, the top of your bra trimmed with lace and when you undo the belt of your robe to reveal your lower half, he feels his breath catch in his throat. Your panties – or rather, your thong – matches the same style of your bra. 

It’s so innocent in comparison to the other women in the strip club, and yet, Logan can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. It’s only when he hears Wade’s voice that he finally looks away, even though he’s yearning to just look at you again.

“Oh, someone’s caught your eye,” Wade grins, swaying in his seat. “Want a private dance, Mr. Wolverine?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan says. “Like I said, I was leavin’–”

“So soon?” you interrupt and glance between both men. You flash a smile in Wade’s direction who looks like he’s about ready to combust with excitement. He’s sipping his drink with a straw, grinning in your direction. Then, you glance over at Logan whose eyes stare directly into your own. 

“Actually,” Wade says. “How much for a private dance…” he trails, staring up at you as he waits for you to say your name.

“Kitty,” you finish for him. “You can call me Kitty.”

“Very fitting,” Wade winks. “Well, Kitty, it’s my friend’s first night out in a very long time and I figured I can treat him to a private dance.”

“That’s very nice of you,” you respond, but your eyes never leave Logan’s. You can see his eyes flit over your frame, lingering on your exposed skin.

“Listen, you ain’t have to and–”

“How about the first one’s on me?” you interject. 

“Sweetheart,” Logan mumbles. 

You bite your lower lip and gently reach up to rest a hand on his arm. You can feel the muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt, can feel him flex it underneath your fingertips. Logan inhales sharply as he looks down at your hand, clearing his throat at your soft touch. 

“His name’s Logan, by the way,” Wade chimes in, cutting through the tension with a quiet giggle. 

“But only if you want to, Logan,” you whisper, moving your hand down his arm and to his forearm. You bat your eyelashes up at him, trying to ignore the obvious attraction you feel towards him. Truthfully, you’d rather spend the rest of your night with him rather than give dances to other men in the club – men who didn’t look like Logan. 

Logan feels his resolve diminishing, but when he hears his name leave your lips, he nods slowly. “Y– Yeah, sure.” 

“Great, come with me.” You smile and gently take his hand in yours. He looks down at it, taking notice of the way his large hand encompasses yours and he allows you to lead him towards the back of the club and into a much more private room. 

Once inside, Logan hears the door shut and he turns to face you, his eyes lingering on your frame. He watches you walk towards him, hips swaying to the muffled sound of the music until he feels your hands rest firmly on his chest. 

“You’re a shy one,” you point out, tongue darting out to lick your lower lip. 

“Not shy,” Logan mumbles. “Just bein’ respectful, sweetheart.” 

“Sexy and a gentleman?” you smile. “Mind if I keep you for the rest of the night?” you tease.

Logan feels a blush rise in his cheeks and lets out a quiet grunt when he feels you push him back against the large sofa. He stares up at you, eyes obviously now trailing your frame. He keeps his hands on his lap, though he yearns to reach out to touch you. 

“Logan,” you whisper, moving your hands to rest on the backs of the couch as you lean in until your lips are mere inches from one another. You’re slightly bent over to be at eye level with him and you smile, catching the way he clears his throat. “If you don’t want to do this, all you have to do is say so, okay?” 

“Okay,” he responds quietly. 

You smile and gently press a soft kiss on his cheek, slowly pulling away to see that his eyes had fallen shut. You turn on your heel and walk over to the speaker to put on a couple of songs that you normally play when you give a private dance. Pressing play on the first song, you then turn around to face him once more. He looks so large in this room – his legs spread open on the sofa, broad shoulders and chiseled muscle beneath the fabric of the flannel he’s wearing. This was only ever a job to you, never finding anyone all that interesting or attractive, but Logan – well, you’d risk your entire job if it meant you can have him for one night. 

As the first song plays and filters the room, your eyes meet Logan’s who is staring at you with an anticipated look on his face. His eyes move along your legs, up to your midsection and then up to your breasts and back down. Slowly, you remove your robe and let it pool around your ankles as you strut towards him. Your hips sway with each forward step and Logan lets out a shaky breath. 

Once you’re standing in front of him, between his legs, you lean down and gently brush your lips against the corner of his lips. His facial hair tickles your lips and you pull back enough to stare into his eyes, lips slowly grazing his own. “You can touch me,” you whisper and move your hands onto his strong shoulders, slowly straddling his hips. “To be honest, I’d let you do anything you’d want to me,” you say quietly into his ear. 

Logan’s large hands immediately move to your hips, gripping it tightly as you sit firmly on his lap. He’s so hard and he feels so embarrassed, but the look on your face when you feel him alleviates some of the uncertainty he’s feeling. 

This isn’t the first time you’ve felt a man’s erection while giving them a lap dance, but it is the first time that you actually let out a quiet moan as you slowly roll your hips against his own, to the beat of the song. The tension between you thickens in the air and you stare deeply into his eyes as you try to remember the routine that you normally do for this song. 

You let me violate you 

You let me desecrate you 

You let me penetrate you 

You let me complicate you

Logan’s hands slowly move from your hips to your thighs, his fingertips digging into the meat of your flesh as your hips roll against his. He clears his throat and watches as your eyes flutter with each movement. He has to wonder if this is all part of your act, that maybe you’re just acting like you’re enjoying this. 

“Logan,” you whisper, moving to slightly lean back in his lap. You move one hand from his shoulder to reach behind you and rest on his knee as you lift your hips before coming back down on his lap. Logan groans quietly, almost inaudibly, as he moves a hand to splay on your abdomen, slowly moving it upwards towards your breasts. 

I wanna fuck you like an animal

I wanna feel you from the inside

I wanna fuck you like an animal

My whole existence is flawed

You get me closer to God

When his thumb brushes against your nipple, feeling it peak beneath the sheer fabric of your bra, he has to wonder if maybe he crossed a line. Logan moves his hand away from you but you grab his wrist and move it back over your breasts. He smirks and wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he leans forward. 

You let out a quiet moan and feel a wetness settle between your legs that you have to lift your hips off of him, not wanting to stain his dark jeans with your arousal. Slowly, you stand back up and hear him let out a quiet, disapproving groan. You stand between his legs, moving one hand in your hair as you use the other to run along your body, grazing your own breasts and down between the valley of your thighs as your hips sway to each beat of the song.

You tear down my reason

(Help me) it's your sex I can smell

(Help me) you make me perfect

Help me become somebody else

Logan can smell your arousal, can smell just how excited you are and the uncertainty he felt earlier is now completely gone. His hands move up your legs, fingertips hooking into the thin waistband of your thong, but he feels your hands move to rest over his. 

“Logan,” you say quietly. Even through the music, he can hear your voice, can hear the desire and yearning in your tone. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” 

“I want to take you home,” you admit, moving to sit back on his lap. “I know it’s very unprofessional, but–”

Logan grins. “Then take me home.” 

—

Logan had told Wade what happened, the other man all too excited for him. He hadn’t expected this night to turn the way it did and there’s some part of him that doesn’t feel like he deserves it, but when he sees you step out of the club with that same sweet smile that meets your eyes, he pushes those feelings out of his mind. Because all he can think about is what’s going to happen next. 

The drive to your apartment was short and the moment you step out of the car, Logan’s quick to follow you. He steps inside of the apartment with you and you shut the door behind him before you’re on him almost instantly. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and Logan’s hands move to rest on your hips. You stare up at him before you lean up to press your lips firmly against his. 

Logan groans instantly against your lips, eyes falling shut as he follows your lead. You move one hand down his chest to his abdomen until it reaches the waistband of his jeans. He feels your tongue slide past his lips and he whimpers against you – he fucking whimpers. Logan’s used to being the one in charge that it takes him by surprise when you’re more than willing to take control. 

When you undo the button and zipper of his jeans, you pull away. Your gaze darkens at the sight of him and you bring him further into your apartment, once more pushing him against your couch as he sits down with a grunt. Standing in front of him, you pull down your shorts and panties in one motion, grabbing the ends of your shirt to lift over your head. You stand in front of him, completely bare and exposed for him that Logan doesn’t know where to look first. 

You’re so fucking breathtaking that he feels his manhood strain against the fabric of his jeans. Logan slowly pushes his jeans and boxers down his legs, catching the way your eyes widen at the sight of his erected length. He smirks to himself and undoes the buttons of his flannel, pushing it off his shoulders. 

“Fuck me,” you whisper under your breath. “You’re so fucking hot, Logan.” 

Logan bites his lower lip. He doesn’t have time to respond, to tell you that you’re the one who’s so fucking hot because you straddle his hips and take hold of length. He groans at the feel of your hand wrapped around him, lining him up to your opening. He doesn’t know how long he’s going to last – it had been such a long time since anyone’s wanted him like this, since anyone looked at him the way you did. 

In his universe, everyone hated him. 

But in this one – Logan has a second chance at living life the way he should have in the first place. 

When you slide down his length, Logan’s hands move to your hips. He groans loudly, your walls surrounding his length – so warm, so wet, so tight. Your walls slide down every inch of his length until you’re seated fully on his lap. He looks up at you, sees the way your eyes flutter. 

“God, you’re so deep,” you point out with a quiet moan, moving your hands to his shoulders. Holding onto him, you slowly begin to lift yourself before you slide back down. You can feel every inch of his throbbing manhood within your depths and he fills you so fully in a way that you’ve never felt before. 

He shifts to lie on his back on your couch, staring up at you. Your hands move to rest on his chest, rolling your hips forward and backward. You can feel the hair at his base brush against your bundle of nerves with each movement, quiet moans escaping your lips. 

Logan moans in surprise when you reach for his hands, lacing your fingers together as you press them above his head. He knows that he’s so much stronger than you, but he finds that he likes being at your mercy. You’re gripping his hands so tightly, pressing your joined hands further into your couch as you begin to bounce along his length. You lift yourself until his tip is the only part of him that’s within your depths before you slide back down, your tight walls sliding down each inch of him.

“Sweetheart, fuck,” Logan groans, squirming slightly against your grip. He feels your walls begin to tremble around him, can feel you tightening even further around his manhood. 

“Lo– Logan!” you exclaim, moaning loudly as you slam down onto him. You shut your eyes tightly, slowly moving your hips forward and backward to ride out your high. You release his hands to brace yourself on his chest, the feeling of his hair at his base providing just the right amount of friction. 

Logan feels a tightness building in the pit of his stomach and he gently lifts you off of him. You gasp, whimpering at the sudden loss of him before you realize that he’s close. You move down the couch and settle yourself between his legs as you take hold of his length, stroking him with a firm grip as your lips wrap around his tip. 

“Fuck!” he groans, not expecting you to fucking suck him off. Logan moves a hand in your hair, tangling his fingers in your locks as he guides you along his length. Your hand strokes what your mouth can’t and when you hollow your cheeks to apply more pressure around him, Logan tosses his head back against the couch. 

It’s sloppy, spit trickling down your chin as you keep your eyes focused on him. You move along his length, flattening your tongue on the underside of him as you feel each throbbing vein against you. Logan’s grip around your hair tightens and he lifts his hips slightly off the couch to push himself further into your mouth, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat as you gag around him.

Slowly, you pull away from him and smile. “Come for me, Logan.” Then, you wrap your mouth around him once more and bob your head rapidly, stroking his base. Logan shuts his eyes tightly, the tightness building once more as he lets out a loud moan. He gently pushes your hand away as he grips himself, using his free hand to pull you back from your hair as he releases into your mouth. He opens his eyes to look down at you, his seed filling your mouth and you eagerly swallow. 

Logan groans, stroking himself to release every last drop of his spend into your mouth. You smile against him – you fucking smile with his cock in your mouth – and it’s an image that Logan will never forget. When you pull away and lick your lips, swallowing every last drop, you lean up on your knees and stare at him.

“Yum,” you grin. 

Logan’s breathing heavily, moving one hand to rest behind his head as he looks at you with a small smile. “Didn’t expect this to happen tonight,” he admits. “But I’m glad it did.” 

“Stay the night?” you ask. 

Logan nods and sits up, gently pushing you onto your back as he settles himself between your legs. “Oh, sweetheart, I ain’t even done with you yet.”

[everythingspokenfor]

All characters are aged up 18+. MDNI.

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You knew this was a possibility, that's why you took extra precautions, tied the strings so well that you were sure you'll have to cut them at the end of the day. But here you were, contemplating how on earth did this happen...

Mina had finally pulled the entire group into going on a vacation, choosing one of the Okinawa beaches, all of you packed up and came to the private penthouse. The vacation was long overdue, everyone too excited to chill out and relax.

It was all good, friends chilling out eating, drinking and finally relaxing after months of tedious hero work.

You were thoroughly enjoying yourself, even if you had to deal with him. Bakugou and you had a sort of love hate relationship, constantly fighting but still having each other's back. Friends constantly commenting about the thick sexual tension between you both, which left you yelling at them, they weren't wrong tho, not that you would admit outloud.

"Move, Sugar." Bakugou rasps out, hand holding a can of beer, he was shirtless, wet swim trunks sticking to him thighs, tan lines clearly visible on his legs, he was still glossy from playing in the water. Had you hated him any lesser, you would have licked the water off him, alas that thought is something to be revisited in darker hours of the night.

"Go around the towel, dipshit", You retort, going back to lathering yourself up with sunscreen, he snorts, before stepping on your fucking towel and going along.

"Asshole!" You yell at him, whole he continues to laugh at your face. You took in deep breaths, this fucker isn't going to ruin your vacation.

You got back to your sunscreen, before reapplying you lip gloss, you put too much effort into your appearance today. It was a deep maroon two piece, the bottoms had a fabric around it making it seem like a mini skirt, while the top was tied with strings.

As much as you loved the bikini, the top was making you nervous, you had taken every measure to prevent the strings from untying, even kept a spear towel, having heard too many stories of women losing their bikinis in the sea making you paranoid. It was probably also why you hadn't ventured into the ocean yet.

"Gurll- you lookin' cute there." Mina walked up to you, handing you a bright blue concoction, you grinned at her before downing the drink.

"Thanks, babes." You giggled, cheekily winking at her.

"What aren't you getting into waters tho? The weather is pleasant too." She queried, leaning in to steal your gloss. "I am gonna go, just applied sunscreen." You dusted your hands, as you stood up, Mina finished putting on the gloss, tossing the tube in your bag before both of you raced into the waters.

The boys, Kaminari, Kirishima and Sero welcomed you both in with splashes, playing around in waters lasted for a bit, after multiple rounds of chicken fight, Kirishima called Bakugou, asking him to join in.

"Ain't interested in yer shitty games." He yelled back, didn't bother looking at the group.

"Scared you'll lose," Sero provoked him, knowing that with right words he can get Bakugou to do anything.

"Fuck did ya' say?" He grits out, before standing up and charge towards your group, all of you scream before swimming in different directions, trying to not be his first victim.

Adrenaline pumped through your vessels, as you swam to furthest end of the shore, leaning against the big rocks keeping you hidden from the main shore. Breathing hard, you placed a hand on your chest, trying to slow the beating of your heart. Only to come to a horrible realisation that you weren't wearing your bikini top.

You were bare from waist above, frantically you tried looking for you top, hoping to find a maroon cloth lying somewhere, unfortunately you couldn't see anything that could vaguely resemble your bikini.

Panic set in when you realised that from this end of the shore, you can't even go to your spot on the beach, chance of grabbing your towel without being seen by your friends were too thin.

"Caught you!" Bakugou roars as he swims around the rocks, only to be stopped as you let out a yell, turning away from him.

"Stay there, Bakugou!" You barely even stay afloat, hairs shielding your back, while hands crossing over your chest.

"What? You suddenly don't want to play, when I catch you?" He rasps out, slightly curious as to why you wouldn't even turn to face him.

"It's not that." You let out a sigh, contemplating whether it's a good idea or not to ask Bakugou for help, he could potentially swin back and get you a towel.

"What is it then, Sugars?" He is much closer now, you can almost feel him behind you. "My top is lost." You whined out, praying he helps you.

"Sorry, what?!"

"My bikini top is lost, it untied while swimming." You whisper-yell at him, giving him a stink eye over your shoulder. He doesn't reply, instead it goes too quite, you slowly peek over your shoulder, only to lock eyes at Bakugou who is already looking at you.

Infact he was looking slightly below, as if checking whether or not you had the top. "Fucking pervert, I'll beat your ass!" Had your hands not been busy you would have whacked him.

"I am not a fucking pervert, I was thinking."

"Had you thought longer, you would have popped a boner."

"You want my help or not."

You went silent at that, of course you needed his help, especially if you didn't want to flash your friends.

"That's what I thought." He speaks at your silence, his voice a little too smug, "you got spear clothes here?" He queried, swimming back a little to look at your bag by the beach.

"I have a towel in there, it's big enough for me." You answer him over your shoulder, he wasn't looking at you anymore instead he was turned away mostly, head slightly tilted so he could hear you.

"Stay put, I'll get it," he almost start swimming before he turns towards you and says "Try not loosing the bottoms, in the meantime." And off he goes.

You knew just from that comment, he isn't going to let you live it down, you are sure he'll probably end up changing your name to some stupid shit constantly reminding you of today, but at least he is helping.

Everybody had already gone inside, letting Bakugou get you, when he reached where your towel had been laid out, he looked for your bag, not wanting to snoop too much, he got to work, quickly looking into the back to realise that there wasn't any towels in it. For a moment he wondered whether he should gather up your sand towel but decided against it.

He quickly jogged over to his spot at the beach, and grabbed the t-shirt he was wearing earlier, getting back into the ocean, he swam towards the rocks where you were hidden.

"Oi! There wasn't any towels, got you a t-shirt tho." He stretches an arm towards you, wet t-shirt in his fist.

"I had one, tho." You look at him in confusion, submerged neck deep into the ocean, hands crossed tightly. You were facing him slightly, eyes looking that clothe, you unwrapped one arm, from around yourself and reached for it, Bakugou averted his gaze, further stretching out his hand so you could reach it.

He moved a little closer, eyes still looking away, arms spread to make sure nobody can see you, even if it a private area of the beach.

You put the shirt on, feeling a little less exposed, turning around to fully face Bakugou, "Thank you, I suppose." You sheepishly scratch the back of your head, assuming the interaction is over and you'll both head back in.

"First of all☝🏻'you suppose?' and secondly you owe me more than a thank you."

He spits out, crossing his arms, and jutting out his hips. You eyes immediately drifted to his tits pecs that had become extenuated, before immediately locking eyes with his.

"Fucking pervert," He mimicked your earlier words.

"I am not! What do you want, Bakugou?" You exasperated, sighing dramatically, crossing your arms as well.

He moved towards you, arms unfolding to sway by his side, "Be nice, Sugar."

You scoff, eyes squinting at him suspiciously, more than aware of how close he was to you. He leans in clear, backing you against the rocks, leaning towards one side, leaving ample space for you to move away from him if you wanted.

He was close enough you could feel his minty breath onto your face, he locked eyes with you before leaning in, instinctively you closed your eyes, head tilting as your hands came to rest on his chest.

The kiss was taking a bit too long, peeking with one eye, you realised Baking was staring at you with s grin on his face.

"You asshole!!" You yelled at him, pushing at his chest, trying to move away from him, he was cackling, hands still grasping at your wrists, not letting you move away from him.

"Sorry, sorry." He wheezed out, pulling you towards him,"Oi, I am sorry, listen Sugars."

You didn't care tho, too tired to be dealing with his shenanigans, he was determined tho, pulled at your wrists, turning to glare at him, you were surprised by feeling of his lips against yours.

You stood there limp, Bakugou taking the lead for you, one arm around your waist other tilting your head to the side, deepening the kiss. You slowly brought you hands around his neck, fingers coming to run through his blonde hairs.

You pull away breaths heavy, he continues kissing down your jaw, leaving behind love bites for you to later press into.

He comes back up, pressing his forehead against yours, "So, how 'bout I take you out, Sugars?"

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[mysteria157]

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black!Fem Reader

Rating/CW: explicit sexual content, cowgirl, vaginal sex, light bondage, power dynamics, teasing/edging, sweating Kento out because that's what I love most, established relationship, MDNI!

WC: ~5.9K

Summary: What happens when you playfully suggest a new dynamic in the bedroom? Utter torment for Nanami, of course. What else is new?

a/n: The writer's block has been absolutely atrocious, but I was able to break free of its clutches with this. Is it Sheriff Nanami? No. But it is smut that's been sitting in my mind so long that it gave me a fever. So...here ya go lol.

Ao3 | JJK Masterlist | Divider: @cafekitsune @strangergraphics | Part Two | network tag: @pixelcafe-network

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

The silk of his favorite tie is familiar to him—the way it slides through his fingers each morning when he gets ready for work, the weight of it loose around his neck as he shaves, the pop of black against gold in his reflection when he secures it beneath his collar. But it’s never quite felt like this—wrapped snugly around his wrists, rumpled and stretching with every pull of his hands, growing damp with sweat from his wrists as he watches you ride him within an inch of his life.

Nanami hisses, dark blonde eyebrows pitched deep in concentration as he gazes up at you. His usually immaculate hair is a mess, flaxen strands plastered to his forehead with sweat that trails down his neck like a lover’s caress, slipping beneath his shoulder blades to soak into the sheets of your shared bed.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he grits out. He means to sound indignant, frustrated in light of what he’s gotten himself into, but his body tells a different story. His hips itch to cant upward, fingers clench like a madman for purchase into your skin, jaw clicking as he grinds his teeth against mounting pleasure.

You snort as if the very thought of conceding is laughable. The consistent jump of your hips stops, the action shooting a flare of want up his stomach. Your fingers flex on his chest, pressing further as you lift your hips up and up, exposing more of his wet cock to the cool air until just the tip remains encased in your heat. He yanks at the restraints before he can stop himself, a silent plea that makes you smile.

“Are you sure?” you tease, rotating your hips, and the feel of it makes his eyes cross. “If you’re not comfortable, Ken, we can stop.”

The thought of stopping makes his cock throb traitorously, even as his body feels flayed open, every nerve ending exposed and singing. He did agree to this, after all. 

It was meant as a joke. Just a random comment you made three mornings ago while fixing his tie like any other day. Like always, Nanami used those precious moments before departing for work to drink you in—his own private ritual of worship. The gentle sweep of your eyelashes as you focused on his Windsor knot, the way the morning light caught the rich undertones of your melanin-kissed skin, that unconscious purse of your lips that made him want to be late every morning. 

“You ever thought about letting me tie you up?”

The question struck him like a match against kindling. Nanami is not really the adventurous one in the bedroom—that’s your domain, and he follows willingly where you lead. But the thought of being at your mercy, of letting go of his ingrained control to watch you take whatever you want from him, had his ears ringing. It was something about the way you wouldn’t meet his eyes, the subtle dip of one side of your cheek as you bit down on it, the want radiating from you like heat from a flame…

When it comes to you, he will try anything once. 

A joke that became an agreement. An agreement turned into tonight—you in that devastating dress over dinner, his fingers leveling enough strength not to shatter the wine glass he drank frivolously from as he watched you toy with your necklace, knowing what was to come. An agreement turned into a frantic mess of hands undoing zippers and buttons, of smoothing along the soft planes of your inner thighs before his mouth feasted on the pearl in the center, of you giggling like a wanton feign as you wrapped his wrists and notched them to the bed frame. 

Just a joke. Just an agreement. Now, here he rests, on his back, on fire, and subtly regretting his choices because he’s a selfish man who wants all of you all the time. And Nanami, like the fool he is when it comes to you, truly thought he could bear it. 

“Focus, Ken.”

An absolute fool.

“I’m not uncomfortable. But you’re hardly playing fair.”

You never do. How could you? You’re divinity made flesh, mischief molded from clay—a goddess who delights in reducing him to prayers and pleas. He loves you, desperately so, and has long since accepted that his soul will forever chase the wonderful chaos you bring to his carefully ordered world. 

“What could you possibly mean?” you’re coquettish in your question, biting the corner of your lip in that way that makes his spine straighten. His eyes linger on that lip, remembering how it feels beneath his thumb, against his tongue, between his teeth.

“Darling—”

He doesn’t get far. Before the rest of his words can leave his mouth, you’re dropping back down onto him, enveloping his cock in a blistering heat so intense it borders on religious experience. Every nerve ending ignites at once, pleasure searing through him like a brand.

“No talking.”

And isn’t that funny? Because any words Nanami has disintegrated into a powdery mist seconds ago. So, of course, Nanami has no choice but to bite the inside of his cheek until he can taste coppery tang, pulling at his restraints for the nth time of the night and wishing in this very moment to be oblivious to the sounds of your wanton moans that echo in the air.

Nanami’s groan starts deep in his chest, reverberating through him like a growing monsoon as you lean forward, trailing your nose along his throat. Your scent—Shea butter and feminine heat—fills his lungs like incense, a temptation he can’t answer, a shrine he cannot appreciate despite every cell in his body screaming to touch.

“You agreed.”

“To the restraints, not torture.” He can hear the hitch in your breath, that light choke as you try to hold back a laugh. Your hips give another sensual twirl, and Nanami can hear the clench of his teeth. “I want—I need to touch you.”

“Come now, Kento,” you coo in his ear, sliding your tongue along his lobe before you bite down into the cartilage. He grunts, flinching back even as his cock twitches inside of you. “You married me remember? Surely you know my ways.”

“My love—” You twirl your hips again and again and again. Each swivel is representative of a slow churn of his rapidly loosening arousal. 

Nanami has always been spellbound by your beauty. From the moment his eyes open in the morning to the moment they close at night, you are all he knows. The curve of your smile makes his heart beat faster, the music of your laugh fills his stomach with butterflies. Without intention, you undo him.

Even now, bouncing on his cock like the vixen you are, you are ethereal. Your box braids sway with each movement, catching the artificial light as they brush across your shoulders that gleam with exertion. Sweat has transformed your baby hairs into delicate curls against your temples and hairline, giving you an almost feral beauty that makes his mouth run dry. 

That’s what makes it all the more painful for him. The way sweat slides down your brown skin, the pebble of perspiration along the curve of your stomach, the hypnotic sway of your breasts as you take what you want, it all beckons to him. His mouth waters like a starving man at a feast he’s forbidden to partake in. The base of his spine coils with an inexplicable pressure that blooms along his back. The tips of his fingers tingle from the loss of blood from the restraints and with the desire to touch you.

It’s not fair. 

It’s frustrating. Agonizing to the very depth of his soul how badly he wants to reach for you. He’s strong enough to snap these damn restraints—he could easily do it. The image floods his mind unbidden—how easy it would be to snap these ties, to flip you on your back and fuck you so hard you’re crying his name. He can almost feel it—the sharp sting of your nails (freshly done, he notices even in his delirium) scraping down his back as he drives into you without mercy, the way you’d arch beneath him, how your defiance would melt into pleas. His muscles coil with the phantom sensation, his ears echoing the ghost of your cries he could draw from you.

But you wanted this. You’ve asked for a slither of control he freely gives, and he refuses to see a shred of disappointment on your face because he was impatient. 

So he waits. Even though his skin is burning from the inside out. Even though his heart is beating so fast, it feels like his chest might cave in. He waits. His cock feels so tight that he’s almost feverish with worry if he can hold on much longer. The feel of your essence coating his thighs and balls, the sound of your moans, the sight of the column of your throat when you throw your head back.

It’s truly not fair.

“My love, please,” he can’t help but beg. He’s never against begging. Not when it comes to you. Not when it comes to unraveling the knot you easily twist inside of him. Already, he’s backtracking. He reaches up just a little, hoping you’ll grant him some part of you—the smell of your skin along his nose, the taste of your sweat on his tongue, anything.

“No.”

You leave no room for argument, pressing against his chest to force him back into submission. Frustration flares like a demon in his chest, curdling and dying instantly against the want that oozes from him. 

“Come on, Kento,” you chide, moaning breathlessly as you double your efforts. “Don’t you want to give me what I want?”

Of course, he does. But in moments like this, Nanami wishes he were a weaker man because you’re too wet, too hot, too soft, and tight around him. The silk-soft clutch of your body is turning his mind to static.

Just the thought of how you feel around him threatens to shatter his composure. Pleasure pools molten in his lower abdomen, every muscle tight as a bowstring as he fights his body’s betrayal. He hisses through bared teeth, digs his fingers into the silk encased around his wrists, and yanks until the bed frame groans. His control is quickly failing him, your moans a siren’s song in his head urging surrender. His body responds without question—feet seeking purchase on the mattress, thighs tensing as instinct fights restraint. It will only take a second for him to plant his feet and drive up into you until you’re seeing stars.

But you’re faster. You lean forward to slide your hands behind his neck, delicate fingers weaving through the sweaty strands of his hair before you pull tight, angling his head back so his neck is bared to you in willful submission. The sharp difference between your soft touch and the display of dominance makes his eyes roll back, swimming in the viscera of his brain as a broken sound escapes him, his resistance melting away. His heels slide back onto the bed, forgotten.

Your soft lips press at the juncture of his neck, your braids falling around you both like a curtain, the ends tickling his chest. The scent of your coconut hair oil mingles with the Shea from your skin, making his head spin. The feel of your smirk on his neck—victorious—makes his cock throb, a tight rubber band behind his belly button fraying on the edges, warning him that his time is running out. 

You move agonizingly slow with each roll of your hips, sending electricity up his spine, searing his skin everywhere you touch and aching where you don’t. His skin feels too tight, like his bones don’t fit, and the discomfort is as satisfying as it is jarring. He yanks, sweat beading at his temples, sliding down his neck, making everything feel slick and hot and maddening.

When you sit up, you trail your hands down the rigid lines of his straining muscles, admiring the jutting veins and sinew. You hum in appreciation, pupils blown black as you take him in. The small of Nanami’s back arches in just so, preening under your rapturous gaze because he hopes he’s doing well. Even like this—bound and helpless beneath you—his desire to be good wars with his desperation to touch. The praise in your eyes soothes even as it burns.

Look how still he stays for you. Look how good he’s being. 

Nanami’s thighs tremble with the effort not to thrust, not to take, not to claim. Each second stretches like the most painful torture as his mind fractures into desperation—just one thrust, one press of his tongue to your skin, one moment of control. Please. Please. The word burns behind his teeth, unspoken and curdling but screaming like a banshee in his blood. 

“Getting frustrated, Ken?” Your voice is honey-sweet poison, made breathier by your movements. He won’t rise to your taunts; he lacks the strength for it. So he basks in the attention you lavish with your eyes, your silent praise like invisible hands along his skin. Just as quickly, he closes his eyes tight. If he looks a moment longer, this night will have an unfortunate end for you both.

“Look at me.”

Your demand cuts through the haze of his desire, sharp and unyielding. He’s too slow to respond to you, and all too quickly, he feels your fingers dig slightly into his jaw, forcing his surrender as his eyes flutter open. His restlessness must show because there’s that wicked glint in your eyes, and you thrive on his misery, rewarding him with a kiss so quick and gentle that he’s chasing after your lips for more. You press your hands firmly to his chest, a clear command to be still. With no friction, it’s just blistering heat, his cock pulsing, a whimper dying in the back of his throat.

You shift, and Nanami’s ears register a faint click that he catches with his eyes. Your heels, oh, those clear heels, glimmer up at him as you plant your feet on the soft sheets. Delicate clear straps wrap around your ankles like ribbons on a gift he’s held all night and still not allowed to unwrap, the nude leather making your brown skin glow in the dim lamplight. 

The moment you put them on earlier in the evening, they haunted him—from the restaurant to the ride home, the way they made your legs look endless in that dress when you crossed them in the passenger seat. Now, they dig into the sheets on either side of his hips as you use them for leverage, the crystal clear stilettos catching the light like ice. The sheer difference of something so elegant being used in such a primal way makes his breath catch—much like yourself, refined on the outside but capable of reducing him to nothing but baseless need.

“Watch me,” you command. As if Nanami could look away if he tried. Damn you. “Watch how well I ride you while you can’t touch.”

He loathes how the new angle makes his vision swim at the edges, hates even more how each movement strips away another layer of his composure. Every bounce drives him deeper into insanity, making him strain harder against the ties that keep him from you.

“You poor thing,” you coo, the false sympathy in your voice making his upper lip curl, a growl simmering in the back of his throat. “You want to touch so badly, don’t you?”

God. He wants, he wants. He wants with an intensity that frightens him.

You’re a taunting vision above him, and he eyes the champagne-colored dress that’s now bunched carelessly at your waist. It was the perfect compliment for you, silken and caressing your body during dinner while he swallowed his bubbling desire with every generous gulp of red wine. A halter top dress fastened behind your neck that was quickly undone when you pushed him on the bed, your breasts spilling from their lustrous confines.

The hem is rumpled, kissing the tops of your curvy thighs and falling open with your new position so he can see everything between your legs. Dimpled skin that rises up and down, beckoning that he grip your hips and trace your curves with his tongue. 

The wet sound of skin on skin drowns out even his thundering heartbeat, and he can’t decide which is worse—watching you take your pleasure or being forced to listen to how perfectly you use his body for your own needs. That controls splinters, cracks, disintegrates, and flutters like ash in the wind. 

He’s never wished more in this moment for you to tire out, for your stamina to be next to nothing. But no. You knew exactly what you were doing when you fastened his tie three days ago. 

“You ever thought about letting me tie you up?”

Nanami, in his stupidity and endless love for you, saw what he wanted in your eyes. What he mistook for aimless curiosity, was actually calculated, unadulterated mischief. 

Of course, he would agree.

That’s why you punctuated your victory with this dress. That’s why you got your hair done yesterday. That’s why you wore these new heels and lathered your body in the Shea butter lotion he loves so much.

A level of strategy so calculated that Gojo Satoru himself would be envious of its perfection.

God, he loves you. Even as he silently begs whatever entity will listen to him to be free of this prison you’ve created, he loves you beyond reason.

“Poor Kento,” you purr, your words cracking through his spiraling thoughts like a whip. You lean back on one hand, the arch of your back pushes your breasts forward, and his mouth waters at the sight. Every cell in his body strains toward you, pressing beneath the surface of his skin and coagulating into a congealed mass.

But it’s the sight of you spreading your legs wider, of giving him a view of all of you, of your other hand sliding down your stomach that truly threatens to break him. Your fingers find your clit, and the wet sound of you touching yourself while he’s buried deep inside makes his vision blur. Those should be his fingers bringing you pleasure, his touch pushing you toward release. Instead, he can only watch, desperate and aching, as you chase your own pleasure.

“Look how wet I am,” you breathe, and his hips buck involuntarily at your words. He doesn’t even bother to feel shame at the glare you shoot his way for disobeying. “Don’t you wish these were your fingers? Making me feel good?”

“Don’t be cruel.” The ties might actually snap from how hard he’s pulling now, watching your fingers work in tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves, your cunt squeezing him like a vice. You’re getting close—he can tell from the way your thighs start to tremble, the way your breath shakes.

Your laugh in response sends searing heat down his spine—musical and breathless and utterly wicked, even though it makes his blood boil. The sound mingles with the wet noises of your fingers working between your legs, the sight and sound of you nearly driving him mad.

“I need—” he chokes on the words as you clench around him in reprimand, his tongue thick in his mouth. “I need to cum. Please.”

“No.” Your voice is firm despite your breathlessness, your fingers never stopping their circles against your clit. “Not until I’m done with you. Can you hold on? Can you be good for me, Ken?”

Good.

A word so simple to a weaker man, but absolute devastation to him. His cock throbs to the increased tempo of his pulse, the festering heat of pleasure pulls behind his belly button, the base of his spine coiling like a snake backed into a corner. His wrists burn from the careful strain of being at your mercy and not breaking free. He’s fighting, but he’s trying—fuck help him, he’s trying to be good for you. 

You purposefully clench around him, tight and hot and perfect, watching his face contort in pain. “Stop,” he growls, the sound raw and anguished in his throat.

Your answering giggle is like a knife to his chest, delighted by his desperation. “Make me,” you challenge, knowing full well he can’t. You do it again, squeezing around him as your fingers work faster. “What’s wrong, Ken? Too much?”

His growl turns into something close to a whimper as you torment him with another deliberate clench. And another, and another, and another. The ties creak ominously, his whole body trembling with the effort to hold back.

“You’re cruel,” he pants, but the accusation only makes you smile wider, your movements growing more erratic as you get closer to your peak.

Every bounce of your breasts, every flutter of your lashes, every rapturous moan—it’s all burning into his memory like an iron on his skin. His hands ache for the soft crease where your thighs meet, where your thick curves swell so perfectly beneath his thirsty gaze. The sheen of sweat between your breasts calls to his tongue, taunting him with memories of your salty taste. Everything within reach, yet forbidden.

Nanami licks his lips, his tongue catching the subtle tang of your fading arousal from earlier in the evening when his face was buried between your thighs. Saliva pools in his mouth with the phantom taste of you. His breath catches in the dry crevices of his throat, gargling on a guttural whimper as he catalogs you in your utter devastation.

The crystal clear heels, purchased on that rainy Saturday when you’d lingered at the store window with wanting eyes. The champagne silk dress now bunched carelessly at your waist, chosen by him because he loved how the fabric made you shiver when you ran your fingers against it at the store last week. Those delicate black lace panties, pushed to one side of your pussy and soaked through, that he’d selected with trembling fingers weeks ago, imagining the many times you’d left them on while he fucked you into the mattress.

The gold chain at your throat catches the light with each bounce of your body, dancing across your collarbones like encapsulated sunshine. He remembers fastening it there for the first time on your anniversary, his lips following the metal’s path. Your body is decorated in diamonds like stars—the studs in your ears, the tennis bracelet on your wrist, the anklet that glints at him from his restraints. But it’s the wedding ring that truly breaks him—that symbol of his eternal devotion joining two other fingers that now press against your clit as you climb higher.

His marks cover you like a map of worship—the jewelry he chose, the silk he bought, the lingerie he selected. Every adornment screams his claim, but his hands remain tied, denied by the very exquisite canvas he’s painted with such adoration.

He sees the faint vestiges of the finish line, that light at the end of the tunnel when your hips stutter in movement and your breathless pants fall into a surprised moan that makes you stop. Your head falls back again, exposing the delicious column of your throat. His gums itch, inner cheeks sweating with saliva with the primal urge to dig his teeth into your soft skin. Your body is normally decorated with little marks from him—bruises from his fingers on your hips and thighs, hickeys on the curve of your breasts, cum dripping from your cunt. But tonight, you’re a blemish-free beauty in appearance, devilish in motivation. 

“Untie me,” Nanami whispers, not bothering to coat the begging lilt in his tone. “Untie me, and I’ll give you everything you want, love.”

Your head rolls to the side with serpentine grace until your dangerous gaze meets his. You’re glaring without any heat, narrowing your eyes in that playful manner that is always preceded by making Nanami’s life blissfully miserable.

You lift your hips slowly, slowly, slowly, and his eyes fall on the inches of his thick cock that become more exposed to the elements. He takes the abundance of your slick coating him, the thin gossamer bands that lengthen from your joined bodies and snap as the distance grows, the subtle flutter of your walls that suffocate him. Then, without warning—you drop. The sudden rush of wet heat around him shoots electricity up his spine and along his molars that he grinds into dust. He moans harshly, deep, and tortured, shaking from his mouth like a staccato as he tilts his head into the pillow beneath him.

“So good,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him, the words falling from your lips like a prayer. “So good for me, Ken. Always so good.”

The praise pierces something raw inside him. His cock throbs with each word, his fingers cramping white-knuckled around the ties as his body screams louder for release. Your movements grow erratic—hips stuttering and the careful teasing you brandished like a sword dissolving into pure need as your fingers frantically rub against your clit. He cranes his head forward just in time to watch you fall onto your knees, planting one hand on his shin while the other chases your orgasm with single-minded determination.

“Such a good boy,” you gasp, and the words feel like salvation against his skin and damnation all at once. “So good, so perfect, letting me take what I need—staying so still for me—such a good boy—”

He’s never heard those words from your lips before, never heard this particular praise, never heard you whisper in such a way that it sounds like you’re in disbelief by his submission. Something fundamental splinters inside him. The veneer that he’s precariously kept around himself all night fractures with each bounce of your hips. Every muscle in his body pulls taut as he watches you, your breathless chant of “good boy” pushing him dangerously close to his limit. 

Your pleasure crests like a tsunami. The bed protests beneath you both, a symphony of creaking wood and flesh on flesh as your hips slam down on him. Your voice rises, tight and pinched fuckfuckfuck's spilling from your lips like a mantra.

Even though he can practically taste his orgasm, his vision tunnels, focusing only on you. He takes in the violent brush of your box braids against your shoulders, the bunching of your stomach, the pebble of tears that gather at the corners of your eyes like the diamonds on your body. Your cunt grips him tighter, so impossibly tight, a velvet vice that threatens to rip his soul from his body.

And then you shatter. Your head snaps back; your jaw drops in shocked ecstasy as his name tears from your throat like a revelation. The sight of you coming undone above him, because of him, despite his restraints, worms itself into his memory. Your walls pulse around him, your fingers rapidly rubbing your clit to draw out your orgasm, milking his cock with an intensity that nearly destroys him. But he waits, trembling on the knife’s edge of his own release until you draw in one shaking breath. 

Then he snaps.

With a sharp crack, the ties give way, snapping from the bed posts but still dangling from his wrists. In one fluid motion, he sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed, gathering you in his arms with barely concealed strength. One hand tangles into the braids at the nape of your neck while the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise.

“You’ve had your fun, love. Now let me have mine,” he growls against your ear, pulling your lobe into his mouth and using the leverage of your body and feet planted on the ground to drive up into your oversensitive and still fluttering heat. 

The feeling of finally, finally being able to touch you after being denied so long makes his head spin. The feel of you along his fingertips is enough to make him spill inside of you prematurely. Instead, he pistons his hips upwards, sliding his tongue along the skin of your neck as his pants dry his saliva on your skin. He’s earned this—earned every whimper, every clench of your pussy, every broken sound you make. Now it’s his to swallow and take as he chases the burning in his lower back.

You’re completely undone from your orgasm, arms draped loosely around his neck, and barely able to hold yourself up as the painful pleasure of over-sensitivity wracks your body. The sound of you in his ear, the press of your cheek on his skin, and the wet feel of what has to be drool on his shoulder, only drives him faster.

Every thrust up makes you whimper, all exposed nerves, and helpless to do anything but take what he gives. The hand on your hip guides you down to meet each drive of his cock, the movement desperate and precise. Control—something he’s prided himself on his entire life—is slipping through his fingers like water with each pulse of your walls around him.

“Perfect,” he pants against your ear, feeling you shudder at his voice, at how it breaks with need. “So perfect for me. Taking me so well even after—” Words fail him, dissolving into a heady groan as pleasure hot like ecstasy builds in his core, a tide rising higher and higher with each thrust. The sight of you so thoroughly claimed, slurred renditions of yes, yes, please, Ken, please sliding into his ear only drives him faster.

“Always teasing me,” he growls, digging his fingers into your hip and punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust that makes you whine. “You love—you loved it, didn’t you? Making me wait—making me watch?”

Your only response is another broken moan, your body pliant and trembling in his arms, your cunt hot and thrashing around him. He groans softly, kissing your neck once before he digs his teeth into your skin. You yelp from the feeling, clenching around him so tightly that he feels his orgasm creep like a shadow at the edges of his consciousness.

“I’ll have to get you back for this.”

His threat is undermined by the pure devotion in his voice, the way his hand gentles in your hair even as his hips maintain their relentless pace. 

As quickly as his ferocity comes, it fades. He has no more strength to whisper grievances in your ear, no more energy to enjoy your body before he walks to the finish line.

No. Now, he sprints.

That rubber band behind his belly button begins to fray, a thin sliver being held together. The pressure at the base of his spine balloons, pressing against his nerves to make them pulse in time with his thundering heartbeat. His world narrows to only sensation—the wet heat of you, the silk of your skin, the wet smack of his balls against your throbbing pussy, the pounding of his heart against his ribs. He can feel it at the base of his cock, tingling and tight, begging to be let loose and fill you up.

Right there, right there, so close he can taste it on his tongue. His teeth dig deeper into your neck, anchoring himself to you as if he might float away in the thick fog of pleasure. The bed screams, and the broken ties—now a symbol of his freedom—dance along his forearms. But just as he teeters on the precipice, just as he’s about to topple over the edge, you find your strength again. His fierce, untamable love presses fingers into his back, and your lips brush his ear with deliberate wickedness.

“Be a good boy,” you whisper, voice hoarse but triumphant, “and cum for me. Fill me up, baby.”

He’s learned nothing from your devious ways. Those words—though repeated through the night—strike like lightning to his core. Gone is his rhythm. Gone is his control. Nanami’s jaw slackens, a desperate sound caught in his throat as his hips stutter and fail. 

His orgasm punches him in the gut, a moan belting from his throat and mixing with sounds he didn’t know he could make. He crushes you against him as he finally breaks, vision whiting out at the edges, hips snapping erratically as he chases every last spark of pleasure you offer him.

Your name falls like reverent worship from his lips, deep moans sliding along your skin like honey as you hold him through it. He’s lightheaded from you—your breathing on his shoulder, the press of your skin against him, the feel of his cum and your slick sliding between his ass. He relaxes his hold on your hip, smoothing his touch over the crescents in your skin and massaging the muscle, feral need giving way to worshiping love.

Seconds pass, then minutes. His mind slowly pieces itself together, orienting himself to reality as pleasure oozes over his skin like molten lava.

His breath is still evening out when he feels you shaking against him. You’re giggling freely, and he can smell the mischief that leaks from your pores. You’re proud of yourself; like all times when you can make him blush and trip over his words, this is no exception. He pulls back to level you with a look that’s meant to be stern, but your laughter only grows, bright and unrepentant as you card your hands through his loose and sweaty hair. 

He takes the time to admire you, his beautiful wife. Your skin glows in the aftermath of your lovemaking, the subtle sheen of sweat on your neck and breasts beckoning his gaze. The curling baby hairs kiss the tops of your ears, the glint in your eyes shining with endless love. You kiss him softly, giggling against his lips before pulling away to litter kisses down his neck.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask sweetly, a smile evident in your voice as you trail your love along his collarbone.

His hand strokes up your spine, humming softly. “Never. Though you will pay for this, love.” The threat holds no real heat— how could it, when you’re curled against him so perfectly, when your laughter makes his heart feel so full in his chest that he aches?

“Is that so?” you purr, disbelieving but fully prepared for the punishment if and whenever it arises. “I don’t think you have it in you.”

He won’t rise to your taunts. No, Nanami will get you back, and the next time those tears gather in your eyes, it will be because he’s dangled you over the precipice for so long that you won’t remember your name.

But that’s plans for another day.

For now, he’s content to pinch your side in playful reproach and relish in the harmonious giggle you give him. Before he can react, you’re pressing him back into the mattress, claiming his lips in a deep kiss that tastes of the wine that you both had at dinner. He melts into it despite himself, arousal stoking to life as his cock, still nestled in your warmth, twitches inside of you, his hands sliding up your back as he forgives you without words.

Thanks for reading!!

[aspirationalpeony]

Dark Horse

Summary: As a cameraperson on the Abbott documentary crew, you've always had a good working relationship with Melissa Schemmenti. One flirtatious night at her home sends you spinning as you try to figure out if this is really real—not to mention how everyone at Abbott seemed to know about Melissa's crush on you, long before you ever did. (See author's note at the end for prompt credit.) Content Warnings: Lots of smut, a bit of emotional confusion, and me having absolutely no idea how filming anything works. I just faked my way through it, very horribly. Oops! :) AO3 Link

It all starts with a late shoot.

It's just you and the mic guy and one other crew, and your camera trained on Melissa Schemmenti. She talks, in a way she's done rarely so far. A season and a half and she's always conscious of the stare of the lenses, quick to dart around a corner or cut herself off if she knows the opps are listening.

She takes big sips, almost gulps, from her wine glass. She leads you back and forth across her house, reaching over tables or pointing along walls to find a photo here, another there, and talks. "Me'n Kristen-Marie... This one—" pause for more wine—"from my college graduation." It's the two of them, almost mirror images of each other at that age, with a tall man whose lean face makes you think he has to be their father; on the other side of the girls is their Nana.

There's no trick in this photo: no wedding dress, no blood, no hint of drama between the sisters at all. They just look hopeful and desperately young. This feels private, that Melissa could have been so young—something that shouldn't be content for the show—and you feel an impulse to duck the camera away, hide her secret. When you look at Melissa again, she’s watching you; there’s a glitter in her green eyes you can’t interpret: not hostile, and not the look she gets when she’s hustling someone, either. The gaze she’s giving you is strangely soft.

“Whaddaya think?” she says, to you, not to the camera.

You swallow. Nothing you say will make it to the final cut, but the editors will hear your answer, so you can’t tell her she’s beautiful in that picture. “I think I’m lucky you’re showing me this,” you say at last.

Her eyes move over your face. You feel it almost like a touch, intimate and slow, and you aren’t making it up: her gaze stops at your mouth and hovers there. She bites her lower lip before she lifts her wine glass again for another pull. “Maybe I like ya,” she says. “Maybe you’ll get luckier.”

You’re still blushing when you wrap for the night. You sit on your couch at home—you’re always insomniac after shooting at night, your brain and body still buzzing with the work—and put on Netflix on low volume and you don’t watch, just feel your cheeks still burning, thinking about her lipstick on her wine glass.

Of course, the whole crew knows the story by the next morning. When you turn up, Pedro, your best friend on the crew, says, “Look at you! Dark horse!” and it makes your face sear with heat all over again. He lowers his voice, leans in and nudges you. “C’mon, nothing in the contract about that. You deserve a little fun. Let your Italian mama take care of you.”

You cringe. “Please,” you say, “never say ‘Italian mama’ to me again. Okay?”

“Just sayin’,” he says, and leaves it alone.

Of course, it doesn’t leave you alone. You’ve learned the best way to sneak up on a conversation with Melissa and Barbara is to come at it around a corner, so you’re hovering down the kindergarten hall, camera on the two women, when you hear your name, making you stiffen.

“You said that?” Barbara’s voice is incredulous, sharp. “What did she say?”

“Nothin’, really,” Melissa says, “she was on the clock, y’know.” The smile starts in her voice before it grows on her face. It’s a Cheshire smirk bigger and deeper than you’ve ever seen. “She got all flustered. It was cute. You think she knows I was shootin’ my shot?”

“I think you could have ‘shot your shot’ with a little more dignity,” Barbara says crisply. “Like an adult does. Politely. Pleasantly.”

“Soberly,” Melissa says. “Listen, if it works, it works. I just gotta find out if it did, y’know. Work. She’s kinda shy.”

“I didn’t know you cared for that.”

"What, the quiet ones?"

You have to pull away. You're going to miss the rest of the conversation, but your face is burning again, your heart is pounding, and you're grappling with the reality that Melissa and Barbara are talking about you, that you're subject enough between them to be chatted about so casually, that all this footage is... God, are you ever going to live this down?

You'll go shoot some Janine and Gregory. That's always a crowd-pleaser; the audience loves the sweet tension between them, the way the space between their bodies turns tangible the longer their eye contact holds. You try not to think about Melissa's gaze on yours last night. You try to do your job.

That goes as well as you might expect. Fifteen minutes into some uninspiring quiz-grading ("oh, I never fail anyone," Janine says, "I just give 'em a different colored star—they like the gold ones best, so—") Pedro comes to find you.

"Hey, listen," he says, "I need you to come take care of your Calabrian chili pepper."

"What?"

"You know, your spicy linguini. Your Italian ma—"

"Stop." Your head whips toward Janine at her desk and then back to Pedro. The only thing you can think of to say, your heart thumping all over again, is "She's Sicilian, not Calabrian."

"She's giving us nothing. You got to come do her talking head. She keeps trying to square up to Kai and he doesn't wanna fight her."

"What makes you think she won't fight me?"

He gives you a look over his glasses.

The change in Melissa is instant when she sees you approach. Those folded arms, her squared shoulders, her broad, foot-planted stance—it all melts. She leans into the wall, her head tipping, one booted foot lifting for her toe to play in idle lines along the floor, and, yeah. Whether you picked her or not, this is your Sicilian chili pepper, and you swallow hard as you approach.

"Heya, hon," she says, "who's this clown they got me workin' with? Don't they know I only do this with the professionals?"

You mumble a little as Kai looks between the two of you, rolls his eyes, and backs off.

"We were talking about her Friday night plans," Pedro says. "It's school game night and she's not going."

"Yeah, the kids are too easy to hustle," she says, "it ain't even fun. What, do I look like I wanna spend all Friday winnin' their, I dunno, their Yu-Gi-Oh cards?"

Now's when Pedro should prompt her, ask a question. You glance at him; he nods his permission. "Not sure those are a thing anymore," you say.

"Their Pokemon cards," she says. "Whatever. Point is, it'd be like taking candy from a... Jacob."

You don't look at her; you focus on the camera. It's easier than holding her green gaze. "Is that where you draw the line?"

"Gotta draw it somewhere," she says.

You can't help it. Cautiously you look up, try to make your voice neutral: "So how are you going to spend Friday night?"

She lolls her head to one side and looks at you. She sticks her tongue into her cheek. "Prob'ly practicing tricks," she says.

"Tricks?"

"Yeah," she says. "With my magic wand."

You don't really remember the rest of the interview. You sure you babble some other questions, and she gives you some smirking answers, but your head is full of white noise and a singular image: Melissa Schemmenti with a vibrator between her legs.

You're sure other things happen that day. Pedro definitely ribs you some more, you and Kai go get lunch and he complains for a while, Gregory and Janine have one of their not-flirting conversations where he draws up a tightly-plotted itinerary for game night, trying to prove it's possible to run a children's event without delays (it all goes back to his father, of course), at some point you go home and numbly resume your post on the couch in front of your TV screen, trying to make sense of it all.

That picture won't leave your head. You think of the look she gave you that night at her house—intimate, caressing—and how she'd look deep in her pleasure, drunk eyes half-open, her face pink, her hair wild. Does she get naked when she touches herself? She seems too impatient—more like a jeans around her thighs kind of woman—but for a night she's planning ahead—a night she's set aside, just for her pleasure...

Your head drops back and you shut your eyes to see her more clearly. You can imagine the scattering of freckles over her shoulders and chest, the shift of her heavy breasts and the hard peaks of her pink nipples—how does she like to be touched there? Maybe she grabs one breast while she uses the vibrator, plays with a nipple, imagining the rough, confident hand of a lover. You can see the soft field of her belly, the abundance of her hips, her thighs, picturing her cunt, the head of the vibrator against her clit—she doesn't tease, can't tease herself, you imagine, not Melissa.

You can almost smell her sex, you think, until you realize it's yourself you're smelling. Your cunt throbs. You could shove a hand into your underwear now and just take care of it, but...

Your small toy collection lives in a box under your bed. It's nothing fancy, but you do have a small wand vibrator. You peel off your trousers and underwear and drop onto your bed, back against the pillows, holding the purple toy in one hand. Does Melissa have one this size? Or a big, classic one, the kind that could buzz your clit right off? You click the toy on and draw it up your thigh. As it nears the sensitive crease between your leg and your sex, your thigh twitches without meaning to, your clit aching, and you think, okay, no foreplay.

You can't help but wonder as you delve the thrumming head between your folds: does she know you're doing this? Was that the idea—plant herself in your head, grow over everything, including your common sense and your inhibitions, until your whole world flowers Melissa? Could she be doing the same—getting a head start on Friday's plans—thinking of you, right now? You're normally quiet when you do this, but that makes you groan aloud. Your clit pulses.

How does she do this, on a school night, like tonight? Back to the image of her with her trousers halfway down her legs, her hand and her toy crammed into the space between the fabric and her body. You can't help but see her in the outfit from today, that green, clinging top, the black blazer discarded somewhere, slacks caught just above her knees, her hair mussed and tangling against the pillows as she works the vibrator over her clit. No playing games for her, either; just getting the job done, hard and fast.

You come, watching her in your head, her name on your lips; you hope she comes tonight, too, thinking of you, of what she’s doing to you.

The next day, Janine, Gregory, and Jacob are in hushed conversation by the supply closet. You pick an angle from just inside the nearest classroom and train your camera on the slight crack of the open door and you can hear them, even though they think they’re being quiet—classic them.

“I don’t know, what do you think?” Janine is saying. “I think it’s kind of nice.”

“I think,” Gregory says, “it’s like…” He pauses, picking his words. “Like watching a dog shake a chew toy.”

“I think it’s very brave of Melissa,” says Jacob, and your heart drops into your stomach. “Considering the historical era in which she grew up and started her teaching career, being openly bisexual in the workplace must be a very—”

“Please don’t let her hear you call her ‘historical’,” Gregory interjects.

“It’s cute she has a crush on the camera lady,” Janine says. (“Cameraperson,” Jacob corrects.) “I just want it to turn out nice. You know, the vending machine guy didn’t work out, so. And now he doesn’t stock Gushers anymore.”

“Maybe she’ll be a little more relaxed,” Jacob says. “A little more… Open, fun—”

“She’s not going to start liking you because she’s dating somebody.” Gregory, with characteristic bluntness.

“One can hope,” Jacob says.

“The camera lady—person—is so quiet, though,” Janine muses. “Melissa is so intense.”

“Bet that’s what she likes,” Mr. Johnson says, making them all jump. He steps out from the supply closet; he’s holding a Teachers Without Borders coffee mug you know has to be Jacob’s. He takes a long, slurping sip, making sure everybody sees the logo on the cup. “Melissa gets a sweet little thang to take care of. Camera lady gets an Italian mama.” He says it eye-talian. (Where is everybody getting this phrase from?)

“Please don’t say ‘Italian mama’ again,” Gregory says, giving you a little flush of vindication.

“Why not?” Mr. Johnson says. “When I was on tour in Rome—”

That’s enough for you. You decide the rest of the conversation can go unrecorded. You check the time and it’s nearly lunch—thank God, because you don’t want to make eye contact with any of them for a while; you don’t know how to feel about them all talking about you. You know it’s not you, really, they care about. It’s Melissa, her caginess at odds with how boldly, openly she’s been flirting with you, an attraction so obvious even the younger teachers that she’d never confide in can see it.

Something light and effervescent swirls in your stomach, but there’s a leaden weight there, too. Nerves. And desire. You let Pedro know you’re taking lunch and leave your camera behind, finding Kai a block down, away from the school, hitting his vape. He passes it to you and you take a pull, letting candy-scented vapor out of your nose. You don’t really smoke anymore, but anybody would need a little comfort under these circumstances, you think.

“So what are you going to do?” he asks.

“What?” You didn’t know Kai cared about that. “I mean, I guess I’ll talk to her, maybe give her my number, then see—”

“For lunch.”

“Oh.”

You get hoagies together, eating them over a public trash can, standing up. Back at the school you scrub your hands clean in the bathroom and duck Pedro and your camera and you find your way down the second-grade hall to the classroom that's usually the noisiest. It's quiet now: the kids are at the library doing a reading circle with the librarian. Maybe it says something that you know their schedule.

She's in there, glasses low on her nose, working. You pause just on the threshold of the open door. You try to piece together everything you know about her, to make it all fit into the person you see, just a small woman with a love of pleather and a never-ending supply of high-heeled boots, a baseball bat taped under her desk (you've seen it), a guitar propped in one corner of the classroom (does she ever play?), how now she's focused and reading with scrupulous intensity, doubling back on a sentence from time to time, her manicured hand coming up to twitch away a lock of red hair.

You knock on the open door. You see her hand pass under the desk toward the bat before she realizes who's standing there. She cracks a grin, lifting her glasses up to the top of her head. Her eyes travel up and down your body in another look that feels like a touch.

"I was wonderin' when you'd stop by," she says.

You give a little hum. You cross the room to lean against a student's desk, just opposite hers.

"No camera?"

"No," you say, "I wanted it to be just us."

"Huh." She taps her pen on her paper a few times. "You here to let me down easy?" She lifts her chin. The look she gives you isn't intimate now: it's far-removed and challenging, like the gaze of a duelist across a plain. You've seen this before, the way she starts closing herself off, armoring up.

You shake your head. There's a shift in her expression, but the walls don't quite come down. "I guess I wanted to ask what you want."

"That ain't obvious?"

"I mean..." Your arms come up, folding over your chest. "You know, I was here last season, when you were dating that guy... Hulk Hogan."

It surprises a laugh out of her. "Yeah, Gary."

"You asked him out and it was... Different. I mean..." You can't think of how to say it. At last, you say, "Do you take me seriously?" No, that's not it. "I mean, are you just trying to hook up with me? Because, I..." You're starting to burn up again. You rub the back of your neck. "That's not the kind of... Listen, you're beautiful, and sexy, but that's not what it would—I mean, to me, it—"

"You're so cute when you're all shy," Melissa says, sounding equally mystified and amused. She stands. "Look... Maybe I did this all wrong." She circles the desk. "Kinda treated you like a piece of meat."

"Just a little bit," you say.

"I take you serious, hon." She doesn't cross the gap between you two, but mirrors your pose, leaning on the edge of her desk, arms crossed over her chest. "Look, Gare was a nice guy. But he didn't have, you know... He didn't make me wanna..."

You think of Gregory's metaphor. "Shake him like a chew toy?"

Another laugh. "Yeah, that. And I guess I felt... You know, I'd kinda uncorked the bottle, datin' him, when I thought all that part of my life was done, and when you were at my place the other night, you just looked so good, and I just wanted..."

You smile, eyes down. The cold uncertainty is trickling away and there's warmth pouring into the spaces it's left behind. "Okay," you say.

"Okay?"

When you look up, she's moved a little closer. You can smell her perfume again, warmed on her skin over the course of a long day. You've had the privilege of seeing her in detail, so many times: the fine, thin skin around her eyes, the creases at the corners of her mouth that forecast her smile, the tiny hint of gray growing in at her temples, the mellow warmth of her green gaze, the slope of her nose crooking slightly to her left. It's different with no lens between the two of you, when you're close enough to touch.

"Yeah, okay," she says to whatever she sees in your eyes. She lifts her chin and drops her gaze to your mouth. It's a clear request.

You answer it. You dip your head; there's a moment where your noses nearly bump, but you change your angle, catch her lips with yours. There's a tackiness from her lip gloss and an incredible softness underneath. The warmth of her almost shocks you, vivid past your imagining. Her hand pets at your jaw; you feel the other curl into the collar of your shirt. She pulls you closer by the fabric and you gasp.

You renew the kiss, lips sliding over hers. Your hand rubs down her lower back. You can feel the divot in her spine where it meets her pelvis, just above the generous curve of her ass. Before you can overthink it, your palm is gliding over that curve, your fingers digging into its lushness, Melissa gasping against your mouth as you squeeze.

"Oh," she says faintly when the kiss is over and you're catching your breath. "Huh." Her look is glazed and a little bewildered.

"I, um, I don't want to send mixed messages," you say, "but about Friday..."

"Friday?" she echoes.

"Yeah." You bite down on your smile, watching her try to remember what the hell you're talking about. "I was thinking... I know a few magic tricks of my own."

"Oh," she says again. You watch her eyes spark with understanding, her smile appear slowly, then all at once. "I guess you could come over and show me your stuff." Her hands tighten in your shirt and pull you back in for another kiss.

"Hey, gimme your phone," she says, much, much later, when you're wearing more of her lip gloss than she is. "I want to give ya my number." You don't think before you're unlocking it and passing it into her hands. She lowers her glasses from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose and thumbs her way around your phone, creating a contact for herself.

You have a flash of nerves—what if she opens your Instagram and sees all the stupid accounts you follow? A vision comes of her seeing all the dog-using-buttons-to-talk videos you've liked, her libido instantly withering... Then she's giving you back your phone and smirking at you, wiping at your lip with her thumb. "Might wanna stop in the bathroom before you get back to work, hon," she says.

When you leave her classroom, it's like floating; you've never felt so light. You stop in the bathroom and you wipe all the lip gloss off your smiling mouth. You catch yourself humming as you and Kai catch some footage of Ava pretending to organize game night, Gregory trying to involve himself, Janine admitting to a little competitive streak.

Your phone buzzes, chimes. "Sorry," you say to Janine and Pedro, who's leading the interview. You wait until you can lower the camera lens to check the notification. You always keep it silenced during the day—did Melissa turn the ringer on?

Italian Mama iMessage

Your face burns. You take a corner away from Pedro and unlock the phone.

Italian Mama You made me real happy

Your blush intensifies; something flutters in your chest. The phone vibrates in your hand as another message comes.

Italian Mama Don't know how I'm going to wait until Friday

The echo of your own thought in her words makes your heart flutter again. You bite your lower lip and type back, Me neither. An electric spark of daring moves you, makes you send her, Maybe I'll practice some magic just to make sure I'm on top of my game.

Is that too much? You hope not. You've basically made a sex appointment with her for Friday—sex appointment, you think, and wince at yourself, your own awkwardness; it's a date—and you don't—your breath hitches as three dots appear on your screen, showing that she's typing.

Italian Mama Oh yeah?

Italian Mama Better practice hard

You feel a pulse low in your belly. You're ready to type a little more flirtation when another message arrives and makes you gasp aloud, quickly clamping your hand over your mouth before Pedro or somebody else can hear you.

She's sent you a photo. It's herself pulling down the scoop neck of the hot pink blouse she's wearing today. You can see just the tip of her nose, her chin, the proud line of her soft neck, her freckled sternum, and, holy shit. She's showing you her breasts cradled in a bra made of black lace. And you stare. And you stare.

Italian Mama Little incentive for you

Your mouth is watering. You can see the rosy shadows of her nipples against the lace. You barely register yourself typing back, You're perfect.

Italian Mama Thought you'd like em

You're typing before you can stop yourself. All I'll be able to think about now is what I'm going to do to you.

Three dots appear, then disappear. Appear, then disappear. Your confidence wavers.

Italian Mama I want you to tell me

You've never imagined you'd be turned on in the halls of Abbott Elementary, but suddenly you're so aware of your cunt, you can't stand it. You're throbbing. You peer around the corner; Pedro isn't even looking your way, he's talking something over about the schedule with another producer. You have time. You glance up and down the hall; nobody except an aide going into a room at the far end.

Your fingers fly over the keys. If you stop to think, you'll psych yourself out, so you blurt out every thought, the iMessage equivalent of babbling—what you'd be doing in Melissa's ear if you could have her right now, in your arms, again...

You're so fucking sexy

I've thought about you so much

I touched myself thinking about you the other night

I'm going to kiss you until you go crazy and you're so turned on you can't take it

I'm going to undress you and I'm going to kiss every fucking inch of you

I'm going to play with you until you're begging

Do you like it rough or gentle?

Three dots.

Italian Mama Little of both

You're typing again in a flurry. You can feel your heart pounding, your breath coming in harder. You probably only have a couple minutes left to really make her feel it.

I'm going to be so gentle with you until you beg me to be rough

I want to bite you

Do you like being bitten?

Italian Mama Yeah

I know you do

On your neck, on your breasts

I'm going to bite your thighs before I eat you out

"Homie, you coming?" Pedro says, with the best and worst timing—and phrasing—he could possibly have.

"Yeah, one sec," you say, and you're proud of how your voice doesn't wobble at all. "Let me just send this. Sorry."

I have to get back to work

Italian Mama Fuck you

Italian Mama How am I supposed to teach like this

Italian Mama Come here and finish what you fuckin started

You laugh, breathless and surprised. You text her, YOU started it! If she hadn't sent you that picture... You scroll back up and look again. In the bit of her face you can see, she's smirking, because of course she is. The luscious curve of her breasts—you can almost feel them, what it would be like to drag your nose down between them, mouth at the soft skin...

Pedro's waiting. You send her a bunch of blowing-kiss emojis and put your phone away again. You're still buzzing with arousal, but you feel a strange satisfaction, knowing that Melissa is a few halls away, squirming behind her desk, thinking about all the promises you've made.

The day passes, somehow. It's a strange mixture of slow, syrupy boredom and electric, frenetic activity as more preparations are made for game night, and your phone periodically buzzes with another message from Melissa. Thankfully (for your pussy—you think it might fall off if it keeps aching like that), the two of you leave the subject of sex, and just talk.

She asks you your birthday, your favorite food. Where did you grow up? What's your favorite color? Each one makes you smile. You feel like you're on the receiving end of a Schemmenti interrogation, a mob boss with her goons behind her. You get her answers back in turn: July 19. (You respond in shock, You're a water sign??? and you can almost hear her voice when she dryly responds, I got no clue what that means, hon.) Pasta con sarde. Grew up here in South. Pink.

Your heart flutters with every new thing you learn. Even though you go home (and rub one out) alone, she's a presence with you, not just in your fantasies; you find you're texting her until you fall asleep, phone sliding out of your hand onto the bedspread. And when you wake up the next day, preceding your alarm by a bit, you find a text from her waiting for you, just a few minutes ago: Good morning, baby.

You levitate all the way through Thursday. You spot Melissa a few times that day, but it's a packed day for her two classes, so mostly it's in the hall as she marches lines of students to and fro. She gets you back for yesterday, though: pauses in the doorway of her classroom as she's filing the kids in after lunch, and gives you an up-and-down look of such searing intensity that your body heats, scalp to toes. She smirks before she vanishes into her room.

She makes you crazy. God, she's incredible. You're texting her every chance you both can get, though she's sparser while she's with the kids; it's all light stuff. Get lunch here today, she tells you, Shanae made beef patties, and when Shanae slips you a couple of golden-crusted pastries, you bite into them, smelling warm, floral curry, savory beef on your tongue, and think of how Melissa it is, feeding you from a distance.

That afternoon, just after dismissal, she calls, "Hey," to you from her classroom door. You try not to jump to attention. "I gotta do a lot of work," she says, playing with the strap of her Apple Watch, "or I'd ask you over, but..." Strangely, her eyes drop. It's a hint of shyness and it makes your heart patter, tenderness and affection for her pouring into your chest. "I was thinkin', why don't we go out and get, like, food or a drink or somethin' tomorrow? You know, before you come over."

"Okay," you say. Her eyes flick up and as soon as she sees your goofy grin, her shyness melts away, turns back into the smirking self-assuredness you're more familiar with.

"You pick the place," she says, knocking the wind out of you at once.

Oh, crap. You remember what it was like with her and Gary: he tried to take her to a shitty spot for their first date, and she flicked him away from her like a bug. She's challenging you, you think, asking to be impressed.

You can do that. Dark horse, right? "Okay," you repeat. "I'll pick."

She leans back against the doorframe. All at once she's in that lolling, casual, flirtatious posture that she assumes for you and only you, her face tilted up, gaze intimate and a little sly. "You headin' out? I get a goodbye kiss, or what?"

"Okay," you say a third time, and you can barely kiss her, you're smiling so widely. You take your fill of her, in every sense, one more time before you leave for the day, nerves and excitement and that thread of arousal all tangling together, like a knot of live wires.

You're texting her later, because of course you're texting her later. Do you want it to be a surprise?

Italian Mama I dunno

Italian Mama Surprises never seem to work out for me

That gives you a little twinge. You find yourself running the tip of your finger up and down the side of your phone, the way you'd touch her hand or her cheek, if you could. How about just this one? you ask. And if you hate it, I'll never surprise you again?

You wish you could see her face. It would help you know if she's resigned or wary or scared. You don't want her to be antsy or nervous going into tomorrow; you want her to feel like she makes you feel: like you've got balloons and not bones, like a wind could catch you and carry you off, you're so light and so happy.

Italian Mama Ok

Italian Mama I'm gonna trust ya

It makes your heart do its now-familiar flutter in your chest. It's like there's a bird in there, some delicate fledgling thing eager to start flying. It wants to soar, holding its precious cargo: Melissa Schemmenti's trust.

The next day. Friday. Friday. Somehow, the school day rockets past you. Game night preparations have gone disastrously, and it's time for a patented Ava save, with the help of Janine and Gregory.

"Wow, who could've guessed," Kai mutters to you, and fidgets in the pocket you know holds his vape.

Your hand fidgets in your own pocket, around your phone. You and Mel exchanged good morning texts, a few kiss emojis, promises to meet up before dismissal to solidify your plans, but you haven't had a chance to see her at all.

"I don't know," you say, "I think they'll get it figured out."

"I think she's probably going to use it to mine Bitcoin somehow," Kai says.

Honestly, that sounds plausible. You shake your head anyway and make an excuse and scoot past Pedro. He's not encouraging Ava to stream game night live on Instagram, per se, but everybody knows that will guarantee some Coleman-style silliness, so he needs to get her there somehow. (Can you mine Bitcoin through Instagram?)

You don't need to send any directions to your feet; they're already walking you toward the second grade classrooms. Mel doesn't have lunchroom duty today, so you know she'll probably be catching up on two classes' worth of quizzes, or restocking art supplies, or prepping the next lesson's props and tools. Her door is shut and you peek in through the window.

She's writing on the whiteboard, looking back and forth from a worksheet in her hand, glasses on her nose. You knock. When she sees you, the narrow-eyed look of interrupted concentration melts away; she gives you a smile that shows her teeth, the kind that changes her whole face, turning her girlish, almost a little goofy. It makes your heart melt.

You open the door. "Hey," you say as she puts her glasses on top of her head and caps the marker. Being in the room with her, after not seeing her all morning, feels like coming out of the cold to a blazing fire. "Uh, hi. You look beautiful today." Then, for the third time, stupidly, adoringly, "Hi."

"You missed me, huh?" she says, putting down the marker and paper. "C'mere."

As soon as you're in grabbing distance, she takes two handfuls of your ass and pulls you in for a kiss. You're lost in it for long, long seconds.

She pulls back after giving your lower lip a bite that makes you squeak. She tucks her hands squarely in the back pockets of your jeans, holding you against her. "You look beautiful today too."

"Thanks," you say, barely registering the compliment, the way you're chasing more contact, kissing the corner of her mouth, nosing at her cheek. She's so warm in your arms. She's wearing one of her tough-girl outfits, a blazer and matching top in military green, and you sneak your hand under the jacket, finding a little stripe of bare skin between her shirt and her slacks. You touch her there with a teasing trace of your fingernail.

She shivers. Is she sensitive on her lower back? You file it away to investigate later tonight. The thought of being able to have her all to yourself tonight—hours and hours—sends sparks skipping through you. You have to kiss her again.

"You think it's unprofessional, doin' this at work?" Mel asks you breathlessly when you part again.

"I don't know," you say, "but whatever Gregory and Janine have been doing is worse, kind of."

"Yeah, that's for sure," Melissa says, and gives you a third kiss; this time, the delicate muscle of her tongue laps at you, little frissons of heat that go right between your legs.

"I came to talk about dinner," you say at last, when you think you can survive without kissing her.

"Oh, yeah," Mel says, "right. What am I wearin'?"

"Uh..." You hadn't considered it. You're just going in your usual date outfit—a button-up, a nice pair of trousers. "Business casual?"

"Okay, easy. Do I get a hint where we're goin'?" One eyebrow goes up. Her gaze acquires a competitive glint, one you've seen a hundred times through your camera. "I bet I can guess it."

"Here's your hint," you say, "it's not Italian."

"Smart cookie," Melissa says, which leads you both into another kiss, and then another. "It ain't a sandwich shop, is it?"

"No," you say, "I can't beat cousin Rocco."

"Soul food," she says.

"No. I'll come pick you up, is that okay?"

"Yeah, come, like, at five. I gotta change and do my face and stuff." She leans back, giving you a squint-eyed look of scrutiny. "Tell me it ain't French."

"It ain't," you promise, and seal it with a kiss. "I have to go. I'm pretending to be in the bathroom."

"Oh, shit," she says, eyes going wide, "we gotta catch up on this freakin' math unit and I forgot, I haven't peed in, like—"

"Go, go," you say with a laugh, letting her extract her hands from your pockets.

When you return, Kai narrows his eyes at you. You shrug at him and you're ready to get back to work, when he reaches across and plucks something off your shoulder: a single red hair. Crap.

"Damn," he says. "Dark horse."

"What's up?" Pedro glances over at you two. Fuck, you don't know if you can take his teasing today—you know he'll want all the details, and you love him, but you want to just get through work and get to Melissa...

"Nothing," Kai says, and drops the hair. He gives you a nod.

You nod back, warmth and gratitude making you smile. He doesn't smile back—you don't think you've ever seen him smile, actually—but you think you see the corner of his mouth curve up, just a little, as he peers into his camera.

Dismissal, a quick goodbye kiss with Melissa, home to get ready. You're normally an all-black kind of girl—it's just easy—but you pause in your closet and find a pink button-up. It's a mellow, soft shade, the same color as a silky blouse you've seen Melissa wear.

You put on your cologne, you style your hair. You look at yourself in the mirror. It’s funny: this is the same face you’ve always had, but three days of Melissa have done something to you. Your eyes look larger, softer; there’s a smile on your lips, small but persistent, that’s been there all day.

You haven’t always been lucky with women. You have love in your heart—God, a lot of it. Sometimes it feels like the water of an ancient lake, going down almost infinitely deep, and yet somehow about to overflow. You spent years going around offering it to anyone who would take it, and once they’d drunk their fill, they just moved on, satisfied, never giving a thought to you, never thinking you might want something back, even just gratitude.

So you pulled away. You just hurt too easily: keep them at arm’s length, never close enough to bruise. The quiet one, the shy one; that’s who you became over time, knowing that if you gave out of your abundance, you’d only be depleted. No one’s ever filled your cup.

You find yourself chewing your lip, staring at yourself. You want this to be different. You want this to be something else. Can it be?

You park your car in front of Melissa’s and find yourself wondering: text, or knock? You’re starting to get out of the car when the front door opens, and a rush of surprise and pleasure comes at the thought of Melissa waiting, watching for you. Then your breath catches hard in your throat.

She’s wearing a little red dress that… “Wow,” you say, before she’s even close enough to hear. The square neck of the dress is cut lower than her usual wear, and shows an abundance of skin that makes your mouth water. There’s a princessy quality to the cap sleeves, a delicate detail that’s perfect for Melissa: blazing, challenging red, with a hint of sweetness. The hem stops just above her knees. The fabric shows her body in intimate detail, the delicate rounding of her stomach and the flare of her hips, straining across the perfect shape of her thighs.

Her hair is down. Even late in the day it has a bit of curl. Her green eyes are like gemstones in the early evening light. Her heels have got to be four inches, but she walks with the steadiness of a queen. She’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.

You circle the car to get the passenger side door. “Hey,” she says, surprised, coming closer, “it’s pink,” and touches your sleeve. It’s not even contact with your skin, barely contact, period, but it sends tingles up and down your arm. “That’s my favorite color.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, grinning like a fool.

Her eyes drop—that hint of shyness again, that tenderness that makes your heart strain against your chest, trying to reach her—before they flick back up. “How do I look?”

“I could look at you for hours,” you tell her honestly.

"I'd kiss ya, but you'd mess up my face," she says. "Here, you get one." She turns and offers her cheek.

You're smiling as you lean down to kiss the offered skin. She's soft and warm, and you get the powdery scent of her makeup, the richness of her perfume.

"Now, c'mon, feed me," she says, and you laugh and open her door.

You drive. She's exactly the kind of passenger you expected: "Hey, check it," every time she sees a car nosing out past a stop sign, or "On your left," when you're trying to merge. "Hey," she barks when somebody cuts you off, a gesticulating, accusatory hand in the air, "cazzo, you wanna watch where you're fuckin' going?"

Melissa. Abrasive, loud, bossy, and you don't feel bulldozed at all. You feel charmed. The smile won't leave your face. You don't know if she could be more herself than right now, in your ancient Volvo, wearing the sexiest outfit you've ever seen on her, looking simultaneously bold and delicate and delicious, and hollering out the window like an angry truck driver.

She's checking her phone as you pull up outside the restaurant, and doesn't look up again until you're opening her door. "Oh," she says, surprised, looking at the place: it's a red brick building, no sign; just a single hanging red lantern beside a white door. You can see her trying to puzzle it out, glancing at you and back to the door.

"It's a bar," you explain. You open the door to your favorite izakaya. Low, golden light and warmth spill out with the Jrock playing over the speaker system.

Melissa cocks her head and looks at you curiously. You only notice that her hand's in her clutch purse when she draws it out again; you hear the rattle of her keys dropping back to the bottom. "Thought you might'a been about to take my other kidney," she says. "I was gonna fight ya."

You blink. It's one of those Melissa-isms, delivered in her dry voice, that you think might be a joke, but it might not be, either. "I wouldn't win if you did."

"You sure as hell wouldn't, baby," she says, and lets you hold the door for her as she steps inside.

You love this place. It feels a bit like your first apartment after you left home, a lot of exposed brick, shoddy white paneling creating an accent wall, and decor that's a little vintage, a little silly: a big, ornate mirror that might have once decorated a cheap theater, brass sconces for lights, Gojira posters in the style of classic ukiyo-e. There's booths on one side of the room and a mirrored bar on the other, with a wall of sake and Japanese whisky.

The hostess recognizes you, waves hi, gestures toward the room for you to seat yourself. It won't start filling up until a little later, so you have your pick of the booths; you take the side that puts your back to the door, letting Melissa have the sightline to the exit.

The low light flatters her. Any light flatters her, but there's something about the dim, intimate, golden warmth of it that makes you stare as she studies the menus, first the drinks, then the food; her eyelashes cast delicate shadows on her cheek, the curve of her lips carving lines there.

She looks up and catches you. The thoughtful twist of her mouth turns into a smirk. The question, though, isn't what you were expecting. "What made you pick here?"

Huh. "I..." You rub the back of your neck, dropping your gaze. "I really like it." That's a start, but not all of it. "I thought you might not have this kind of food all the time. I never see you eating it and I wanted you to have a nice change. And..."

"I come here alone a lot." You shrug. "I have... Good memories here." They are good memories: people-watching, trying new drinks and food, chats with the bartenders, a karaoke night where you fell in with a group of laughing, drunk women who all worked at the same office, who tried to persuade you to bar-hop with them until last call.

But it's always been you, alone; sometimes folded in with somebody else out of goodwill, sometimes noticed for your familiar face and your generous tips, spared a few more minutes of a busy mixologist's time, but always a separation, a glass wall between you and the rest of the room. No one's been on this side of it with you before.

"I wanted you to have a good memory," you say, finally. "I wanted to share it with you."

You glance at Melissa. She's watching you with a look you recognize. It's the one she gave you that night at her house—just earlier this week, but it feels like a lifetime ago. It's tender and intent. It's encouraging. Like she's watching a flower bloom.

"It's already a good memory for me, hon," Melissa says. Something nudges your ankle. It's her foot in its killer heel, gently insinuating between both of yours. You feel her knee against yours, your calves aligned together. She smiles at you. "We're here together."

Your heart does one of its aerial flips.

"You sure get shy for somebody who was talkin' about suckin' my tits before, though," she says.

You choke on nothing. Your face and ears burn. She laughs, her head dropping back, the light glinting on her saints' medals.

"Biting," you squeak, when you can get air. "We were talking about biting."

"Biting," she says, "right. How come you can say all that to me but you're nervous tellin' me you like a bar?"

It's not a bad question. You trace the grain of the wooden tabletop for a second or two, eyes down. "I'm used to giving other people what they like," you say. "I don't mean—it's not that I was lying or faking. No way. I meant it, I mean it, everything I say to you. So much, Melissa." You dart a look up to make sure she understands. "I mean, it's easy for me... For other people, I can express..."

Her hand finds yours on the table and stills it. Her manicured finger gently swipes along the curve below your thumb, down to the sensitive inner skin of your wrist, and traces slowly there, back and forth. She's giving you that look again, gentle and focused and intimate. "I get it," she says simply.

A rush of relief fills you, settling the rattle of your anxious nerves. You turn your hand over and hers settles into yours.

The server appears for your drink orders. You order the house sake, and Melissa says, "Yeah, me too." With your small glasses of sake, the two of you pore over the menu, picking a few things Melissa knows, a few things she's never had before.

The first few plates come out: shumai, hamachi, a bowl of spicy pickle. She gets pieces of toro, unagi, and salmon, and you get a roll and a plate of chashu buns. She gives those a look of pure lust.

"Take one," you say, and push the plate toward her.

She doesn't hesitate. At her first bite, she lets out a guttural moan that goes right between your thighs. You're suddenly much more aware of her ankle still caught between both of your own.

"You think I could get this recipe?" she says of the chashu after the bun has vanished.

"I think you can get whatever you want." Especially from you, especially if she keeps making those noises.

"I sure can," she says with a flirtatious bat of her eyelashes.

You've seen Melissa eat before, scraping the last bite of salad out of a tupperware or sipping from a Stanley Tucci mug, but it's different like this, sharing a meal. You love watching her small, plump hands with her chopsticks, her drinks; you love her expressive eyes, the way they widen or flutter shut at a perfect bite. Everything she tries she makes you try—insistent, "Here, you taste," like you're not the one who's had the whole menu before, and you oblige, trying to taste it for the first time, like her, letting each one blossom over your tongue, letting yourself fall under her spell.

The bar is packed by the time you're through and she's nibbled her way through a couple of frozen mochi. "We gotta come back here," she declares as the two of you leave, hand in hand. "I wanna try more. You got good taste."

"Yeah, I do," you say, looking at her. It's full dark now, but the streetlights and the moon illuminate her, outlining her red hair in silver, the shape of her hips.

"You gonna take me home now?" she says. She moves closer. "You made a lotta promises, you know."

"I know." Your hands settle on her hips. She tilts her head up; you catch her lips, tasting the plum wine you two shared. It's your first real kiss of the night, and she's mellow, soft, delicious. Still, you tell her, "We don't have to, tonight. I want to, but I don't want you to think..."

"I know," she says, and gives you another kiss. "If I thought you were buyin' dinner to make me put out, I would'a had way more food." Another kiss. "Come on, let's go. Or maybe you don't wanna get lucky?"

You drive back to Melissa's place, her hand on your thigh the whole way. Back over the welcome mat that reads GO AWAY, into the picture-lined place where it all started over a glass of wine.

Melissa takes your coat and her own and gives you her back, hanging them up in a closet by the front door. "I can get you another drink," she's saying, but all you can see is the back of her dress: the silver line of the zipper running from collar to hem, almost invisible.

You move closer and she stiffens when she feels you there, your chest to her back. You gather her hair, move it aside. Above the collar of the dress you can see the line of her nape and the muscle where her neck and her shoulder join. You lean down and kiss it.

Breathing in, you can smell her perfume again, her makeup again. Now, her skin. It's a scent you couldn't begin to describe, something living and animal and sensuous. And her hair: warm, intimate, a little bit of hairspray. You kiss the side of her neck.

"You have no idea," you say quietly. You nose against the shell of her ear. Its soft cartilage is cold from the night air outside, but warming quickly, flushing pink as you kiss it. "You have no idea how gorgeous you are. You don't know what you've been doing to me."

You lift your hands and find the tongue of the zipper. Her breath hitches. You slowly draw it down. The rasp of it is loud between your bodies.

The band of her bra. Red lace. Down her back to the luscious curvature of her hips. You're holding your breath. Her panties are red lace, too, a high-waisted thong that hugs her belly and hips but, oh, fuck: leaves her ass almost totally fucking bare. Of course, in that clinging dress. Couldn't risk panty lines.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you say, and slide the dress fully off her body. It's a puddle of red fabric on the floor. You push her chest-first against the closet door and drop to your knees.

"Oh my God," she says weakly as you hold her hips and kiss your way up the back of one thigh, then the other. The flesh here is dimpled with cellulite, a mark of her perfect abundance. You nose over the curve of her ass and bite one cheek and she squeaks and gives a weak, "Huh," afterward, like she'd surprised herself, and you bite the other cheek and her hips rock back into you.

She's still in her heels. You're starting to smell her sex. You think about having her bend over and put her hands against the door and let you eat her from behind until her knees shake and give out. Fuck, you want to, but you've been making promises; you have plans.

You straighten back up, brushing kisses up the line of her spine. "I want to see your bedroom."

"Fuck," she says dizzily. "Okay. Uh..." She starts to step away from the closet door and for the first time all night, she wobbles in her heels. She gives a little growl of frustration that's so Melissa you can't help but laugh, making her glower your way as she toes out of the shoes.

She leads you up to her bedroom. The big bed is made, but there are plenty of signs of life: the vanity against one wall, scattered with makeup; the bedside table with a dog-eared book and a pair of her glasses; there's a bra tossed over the cracked closet door.

She turns to face you, unself-conscious, and grabs you for another kiss, deep, dirty, her tongue licking into your mouth. "Can't believe you wore my favorite color," she says breathlessly, and starts fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. "God, you look so hot."

Your shirt's halfway open when you get your mouth on her neck. She groans, hands loosening on the fabric. Soft, right along the line of her jaw, under her chin, down her throat where you feel a moan vibrate through the skin. "Harder," she says.

You stay soft. The hollow of her throat, her clavicle. You nose one strap of her bra. She whines, "Harder," and grips your hair.

"I told you," you say. "I'm going to make you beg." She gasps. Your cunt pulses. You wonder if the same thing happened in her classroom that day, if she sat at her desk squirming, little hitches of her breath betraying her.

You squeeze her ass and she sways into you. Your hands shape her hips, up her sides, over her back, feeling the landscape of it, the valley of her spine. You trace the band of her bra. It's so pretty, you almost don't want to take it off.

"Where's your vibrator?" you ask.

"Huh?"

"Your vibrator," you patiently repeat, and lean back. You see in her eyes when it clicks. She leans away from you toward the nightstand, pulling open the top drawer. Inside, there's a pack of melatonin gummies, a lavender and chamomile room spray, a mini bottle of Jack Daniels, and a hot pink wand vibrator. Her sleep aid drawer, you realize.

You pick up the toy. It has a good weight, and the silicone is almost as soft as her skin. You find the power button, click it on, and cycle with a few presses through the three strength settings. You settle back on the first one and test it against the inside of your wrist, feeling the rumble against the sensitive skin there.

You look up again and Melissa's sitting on the edge of the bed. She's breathing hard, staring at you, and she's blushing.

"Lay back against the pillows for me, baby."

She scoots back, gives you a challenging look, and spreads her legs. You can really smell her, a thick, rich, saline scent that makes your mouth water. The drawer's still open and you spot a small bottle of lube; you take it out just in case, then slide the drawer shut.

"You gonna get naked?" she says as you join her on the bed.

"Not yet," you say and kiss her again. And again. The vibrator sits on the mattress, turned off, and you want to make her forget it's there. You take your time, licking at the serrated edge of her teeth, sucking on her lower lip until she's whimpering.

You couldn't have imagined that sound coming from Melissa Schemmenti. You chase it, have to have it again. Her lipstick is smeared, almost gone. She keeps tugging on your hair as you kiss her, starting to squirm beneath you, saying things like "More," and "Harder," but not please—not yet.

She slides down against the pillows, laying herself more fully under your body, and the motion makes the vibrator roll down the mattress to bump her side. Her breath speeds up all over again, and her eyes flick from it to you.

You pick up the toy and click it on. "Keep your legs spread."

"Oh, fuck yes," Melissa says, then whines aloud when you touch the vibrator not to her clothed pussy, but to the inner crease of her thigh. "Fuck, c'mon."

"C'mon, what?" You trail the vibrator up the inside of her thigh, toward her knee, and back down again.

"You know—" her breath stutters when you switch legs. "You know what I want."

"And you know what I want."

That makes her moan. Her head drops back, her chest heaving. You lean down to kiss her sternum, to finally nose against one perfect breast, the way you've hungered for it since that photo. The lace of her bra scratches your cheek. You can feel her nipple through the cup, taut against the fabric. You bring the vibrator up and tease its rumbling head over that peak, making her shudder, then replace it with your mouth, letting her feel the heat and wet, just barely, still separated from you by her bra.

"God, fuck," she says, "fuck you," and you switch breasts, teasing her other nipple to aching stiffness. You nuzzle the skin that her bra offers up, the plump perfect roundness of her breast, part your lips, drag your teeth over it. She's so soft here, so much, and it's perfect. Your hand drops with the vibrator and you trace it over her hip toward her sex, making her squirm, as you busy yourself with soft bites and sucks.

You change your angle a little, propping a hand against the pillows so you can lean over her. Your body casts a shadow and her green eyes look up at you from beneath it, somehow both pleading and mutinous. You idle the vibrator back up along the waistband of her underwear and then slowly down toward her cunt, playing it over the plumpness of her mons.

"Fuck," she says, "fucking fuck you, okay, please," and you smile. "Please, I said please, will you fucking please—"

You bring the wand down over her pussy. Her head rolls back and she groans, starting to squirm. "Pull down your bra for me," you say.

"What?" Her voice, face, are foggy and vague, but after a few seconds she understands, lifting her hands to tug down the bra's cups, showing you her perfect breasts. They're begging for your mouth, and you promised her you'd give her what she wanted when she begged, didn't you?

You drop your head. Kiss over one breast, then the other. Mouth at the flesh—so fucking soft, so good against your lips, sucked into the wetness of your mouth. The tops of her breasts have a small scattering of freckles that you have to dust in turn with adoring kisses. Her hard nipple brushes your cheek and you draw it past your lips as you trace the wand vibrator up and down, from her clit to the entrance of her cunt, back again, never letting it linger.

You switch to her other nipple, leaving her breast damp and reddened from your mouth. Her head tosses back and forth against the pillows as she whines, squirms, moans, says, "Fuck," and, voice breaking a little, "You're still fuckin' teasin' me—please, please, I said it, please—"

The words, her need, are electricity surging straight to your aching clit. Your voice is a rasp to match her own when you lift your head and breathe in her ear, "You sound so good like this, Melissa." She gives a broken whimper. "You're so perfect. I'll give you more. I promise. I'll take care of you. Take your panties off for me, sweetheart."

With a grateful sob she lifts her hips and shoves her underwear down her thighs, no further. You flash on that fantasy you had of her, getting off after a school day, slacks and panties around her knees as she fucked herself. Looks like you were right.

"You might need," she starts to say, but you're already reaching across to pick up the bottle of lube. You click off the vibrator and let her watch you drip the lube over your fingers, slicking them up. She's panting harder and harder just watching you.

With your other hand freed from the vibrator, you can pull the thong all the way off her legs, leaning back on your knees to do it. You push one thigh then the other wide apart. Her pussy is plump and gorgeous, red and swollen, her own wetness gleaming from between her spread labia. You add to it: the softest touch of your fingertips against her sex, trailing up and around the peak of her clit, not touching it directly.

She makes a noise you can barely describe, a groan of misery and arousal and desperation. Sliding your fingers back down toward the heat of her cunt, slipping one slowly inside, watching her as you do it. Her eyelashes flutter, her lips parting. Once you're sure she's wet enough, you add a second finger. The lube and her own gathering wetness makes a slick, dirty sound as you begin to stroke inside her, all delicacy, all torment.

"Oh, fuck," she says, "don't stop, Jesus Christ, please, don't stop, I need it, I, I..." Now she's babbling, the way she's made you do, one hand fisted in the bed covers, the other grabbing your wrist. "I need it so bad, I need you to fuck me, I've been waitin', please..."

"You've been waiting?" It occurs to you that this version of Melissa, already begging, might be willing to tell you some embarrassing truths. "How long?"

"Since we met," she gasps. "Since—oh, fuck..."

Since you met? That was the very first day of shooting—getting all the establishing shots, the very first moments and interviews. She intimidated you—her and Barbara both did—but Barbara, at least, gave a little, showed a bit of herself to the camera. You remember how Melissa was, arms folded over her chest, cool and hostile with Pedro as he tried to coax her out, get her to introduce herself.

Her eyes had moved from him to you, looking past the camera. "You Sicilian?" she'd asked you. She smiled at you that day and it transformed her sullen, cagey face, turned her, however momentarily, sweet. "Italian?" she'd continued, then her eyes darted from you to Pedro, over to the boom mic guy, trying to get a read on all of you. "You from South?" Her smile vanished. Her voice tightened up again: "Okay, you guys workin' with the cops? 'Cause you gotta tell me."

You reward her for the honesty with a press of your palm against her clit. Her hips jerk up. "I remember that day."

Her head drops back again, her eyes squeezing shut. The words leave her in a breathless rush: "You were so cute'n I hated the cameras but whenever you were there I would just—and you were always so, you were gentle, and—I always knew when you were lookin' at me—"

"I was looking at you every chance I got." You watch her face as you begin to ease a third finger inside her. This one has to burn a little; you can feel her body, resistant at first, starting to stretch to take it, and you don't push; you wait to see her eyes open again, their needy, yielding look. She lets go of the covers to grab one leg under her knee and pull it wider apart to help you. You add a little more lube, just in case, not wanting to hurt her.

"I was always looking at you, Melissa." She stares up at you. There's a crease between her brows, her swollen lips parted; she looks stunned, overwhelmed, face pink, as you slide that third finger inside her.

"I was always looking at you," you repeat, and begin to gently fuck her. Her cunt opens for you and desperately clenches against your fingers, grasping and irregular, trying to keep you. "You're so beautiful. I always wanted you. I thought you were the sexiest, meanest—" that surprises a panting laugh from her—"woman I'd ever seen. You were so smart, so funny—you protected everyone, and you took care of everybody—" her eyes squeeze shut. "Let me take care of you now."

You reach over and pick up the vibrator. You click it on. Her eyes open again at the sound of its buzz. You press the button again, then a third time, bringing it to its strongest setting. Melissa's eyes are huge. She's panting, staring, knowing what you're about to do, and the look of vulnerability and desire on her face, her smeared lipstick, her messy hair, she's perfect, so perfect, and you need to make her come now.

"I need it," you tell her, holding her gaze. "I need it. Let me feel it, Melissa." You bring the vibrator to her swollen, begging clit.

A moment of nothing but her breath caught in her chest and her wide-eyed gaze on yours. Her pussy clamps down around your fingers and you feel the ripples of her orgasm start before she drops her head back and gives a wounded, animal cry.

You chase the waves of her climax, fucking her through them, coaxing them toward you; you rub the head of the vibrator along her slippery clit. Her head tosses back and forth on the pillow like it's too much, but her hand still grasps your wrist, keeping you right where you are, and her hips are working, riding your fingers.

"I can't," she starts saying when she can heave a breath back into her lungs, "I can't, I can't, oh, please—" you click the vibrator off and throw it aside; it nearly rolls off the mattress. You spread the lips of her pussy wide and you lean down and bite one shaking thigh, then the other, then seal your lips over her swollen, tender clit.

Fuck the vibrator: this is your new favorite toy. You play with it and play with it and Melissa comes again, or keeps coming, you're not sure which. One leg goes over your shoulder and her hips twitch and writhe until you have to hold her down.

"Oh my G—oh my God, oh, baby," then, just chanting over and over again, like you could ever tell her no again, like you can deny her anything in the world: "Please, please, please..."

Anything she wants. The whole fucking world, if it were yours to give. You suck and lick at her cunt as her hands find your hair and yank.

How long can she go for? How many times can you make her come? You want to know. You want to fuck her until she faints. But that's not for tonight—not without planning, not without her consent—so when she starts making airy noises that are weak and almost pained, you ease off, slowing your mouth and fingers, letting her come down.

You rub her hips and thighs and her soft belly, and give light kisses to the mound of her pubis. She stops pulling on your hair, grip going slack at first; then, as she comes back into herself by slow degrees, she scratches her nails gently against your scalp.

Kisses for her stomach, her ribs. "Here, baby," you whisper, and reach under her body; she lifts up so you can unhook her bra, sticky fingers brushing her skin. You ease it off and drop it to wherever her panties went. She's nude under you now, flushed all over, body loose and relaxed against the mattress; you pet every inch of her you can reach.

You cup her cheek. Her head turns into the contact. There's sweat gleaming along her hairline and her upper lip. Her eyes, mascara and liner blurred, open to meet yours; her gaze is bleary at first, then sharpens.

You expect another fuck-you, or a joke, or even a "thanks, I needed that," but what she says is, "Now you sit on my face."

Your mind whites out. It's possible you forget the English language for a second or two. When you're back from wherever your soul departed to, she's pulling on the buttons of your shirt, brow knit and wearing an impatient little scowl, yanking the last ones open. "What?" you say weakly.

"I said," Melissa says, fully herself again, no longer the begging, needy, squirming creature of minutes ago, "now you sit on my face. C'mon. Get this off." She grabs the buckle of your belt and works the tongue out of it with a metallic clink.

"I," you say, "I," and she drags your trousers down your legs. You have to lean back off her to get them and your underwear all the way off. Your shirt still hangs open, showing your bra, your bare stomach. She leans up to kiss your sternum with an open mouth, tongue flickering hot against your skin.

"I told you," she growls against your neck, "to sit on my fuckin' face," and there's no more of anything in your world but her, you scrambling up onto your knees, spread wide, her sliding down the bed to get under your cunt.

You falter for a moment; she grabs your hips and yanks you down. There's no playing, no teasing. She drags the flat of her tongue up the folds of your pussy and takes your clit into her mouth and sucks. Her green eyes are open and staring up at you and you see your own dazed pleasure reflected in them.

It takes about five embarrassing seconds before you come in her mouth. She moans loudly against you and tries to hold you where you are, but your legs are shaking badly; imagine if you broke her nose the first night, God—you lift one knee so you can get off of her and drop onto your back.

She follows you. Clambers on top of you intently but unsteadily, still wobbling from her own orgasms, and kisses sloppily down your stomach to get back to your pussy.

"Melissa—" you're gasping, and she's putting her tongue inside you, angling her head to get it in as far as she can. She licks, sucks, wraps her arms around your hips and holds you against her as you try to buck away. The wet noises of her mouth against your cunt are obscene.

You come again, and maybe one more time, you're not sure; your mind blanks again. When you can think, feel, process again, she's giving little kitten licks to your sensitive sex that send shudders up your whole body.

"Okay," you say. Your throat hurts a little—how much noise were you making? You clear it. "Okay. You win." You tap out on the mattress like a boxer. She's wearing a look of supreme satisfaction as she lets you go, her face covered in slick wetness, her makeup a disaster, her hair a messy tangle. She's so beautiful. Your heart does a now-familiar backflip.

She crawls up your body and flops onto her side next to you, curling onto your chest. There's long minutes of just you two breathing, the sound filling the room, a tingling starting in your pussy that you know is the herald of after-sex soreness, her damp fingertips tracing idly on your skin.

You start to smooth out her hair. It'll take a shower and a comb to really fix—maybe you'll suggest it. You trail your fingers down and follow the freckled curve of her shoulder, the roll of flesh on her side along her ribs, the dip of her waist before it opens onto the perfect field of her hips and ass.

Her eyes flick up to yours. They're softer and happier than you've ever seen them; the look on her face is gentle and content. You bring your questing hand up to cup her cheek. She kisses your thumb.

"I'm hungry again," she declares.

A laugh bursts out of you, full of affection. "What?" she says, clearly about to be offended, but before she can go any further, you pull her fully into your arms, wrap around her and squeeze.

You press your face into her neck and inhale, smelling her sweat and skin and sex. "You're perfect for me," you say into that warm curve, muffled against her skin. "You're just perfect." You peck a kiss onto her jaw and lean back to touch her cheek again. "Should we make something? Do you want pasta?"

She grins at you. It's that big, Cheshire smile you saw on her face a few days ago, telling Barbara about how she shot her shot, full of preening satisfaction. She leans in and brushes your nose with hers.

"I knew I picked right," she says, simply, happily. She laces her fingers with yours. "Come on, I got a robe you could wear. You like carbonara?"

She leads you off the rumpled bed. You can see you've left a blurry pink bite mark on one cheek of her perfect ass. She brings you a fuzzy shortie robe ("I like your legs, baby, lemme see 'em") and puts on a silk one herself, and takes your hand again as she opens the bedroom door.

You feel good. You're happy. You realize as she brings you to the kitchen, to the very heart of her home, that you're not alone anymore.

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

Author's Note:

I received the following prompt from an anonymous reader on Tumblr:

"can you write some fluffy smut for Mel x reader where everyone thinks Mel would be in charge in the bedroom because she’s so tough and reader is so shy. but actually reader takes care of Mel."

Back when Season 2 was airing, I saw a few fan posts saying that Lisa Ann had suggested there was a cameraperson on the crew that Melissa thought was cute, which led to the rare scenes where Melissa opens up to the camera. I'm not sure if this is accurate to what she said, but that idea has stuck with me. When I received the above prompt, it went into a blender with that thought, and this is the smoothie that resulted.

I hope I've done justice to this lovely prompt!

[noemilivv]

hiiii!! i was wondering if perchance i could request head canons or a one shot (whichever you see more fit) of how [character] is on their first date with [reader]

the characters im rlly invested in are alastor, vox, velvette, angel & husk 💗

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐯𝐨𝐱, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

a/n: i’m so sorry requests have been so slow, my show is almost done (closing night is today) so i’ll be able to get to requests after that!! and i tried to make this a bit longer than my normal pieces so i hope i did okay? we’re almost at 700 btw so tysm for that <3

warnings: profanity, mentions of sex in vox’s part (no smut), mentions of valentino, implied!masc reader in angel’s section — the rest are gn

proofread: no 😔

tags: x reader, alastor, husk hazbin hotel, angel dust, headcanons, the vees

𝐯𝐨𝐱

vox would probably enjoy a night in the most, honestly, fans can irk him a fair bit, and he wants tonight to be about you and him alone

he’d probably get some of his more decent employees to be like waiters, and let’s be real, even if you were only in vox’s quarters, you both would still be dolled up

seeing as this is only the first date, vox’s “show host” persona is still very present, he’s not ready to let his walls down quite yet, he’ll sit there and boast about how fucking amazing he is for most of the date

but you’d be surprised, when you speak, vox won’t shut down anything you’d say, he’s an extremely good listener — it mainly comes from how he has to listen to boring meetings, even when he doesn’t want to, but as much as he won’t admit it, he could listen to you talk anyday

when the end of the date comes, you’re either gonna end up spending the night at his, whether it ends in sex with him or falling asleep on the couch together in the middle of a movie is a bit of a 50/50

OR he’s gonna end up driving you home, mainly because he doesn’t enjoy just walking about the streets of hell, because so many people come up to him, and also cause he doesn’t want to risk putting you in harms way, but also because he wants to flex his fancy ass car…

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭

like vox, he’d also probably enjoy a date in a more private settings — due to the type of fans he has, the contract he’s under, along with many other things

but angel has a preference for more relaxed dates, he’d bring you into his room the hotel and end up having a massive sleepover ��� movies, skincare, gossip seshs, etc. whatever you ask for, he’ll give ya!!

after valentino, i can see angel only really taking interest in people who he’s known for a long time/has a strong bond with — so considering the fact that he’s most likely known you for a long time, this is probably when he’s gonna be more affectionate — possible cuddles, kisses, etc

but even with that, angel really considers first dates as a ‘get to know you’ sorta thing, so he wants to hear all about you, and share stories with you about him as well! you two will probably play games like 21 questions or truth or dare but with mostly truths 😭🙏

honestly, angel will probably spend more time telling you about molly (his sister) then himself, he misses her a lot, and she was one of the biggest parts of him and he loves telling you stories about them together in their lifetime

𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞

in contrast to vox, she would love to go out somewhere for a first date, more specifically, the mall! she may end up treating the first date as more a girls trip, but trust me, it isn’t her way of friend zoning you in the slightest!!

the stores in the mall that she’d most likely wanna hit up are the clothing stores and makeup stores (duh)

she’d try on a bunch of fits for you in a ‘fashion run-way’ kind-of manner and force outfits into your arms and rush you to do the same

and in makeup stores, she’d grab a bunch of lip-oil testers and swatch them on your arm and see which ones she thinks look the best — and she’d also try to find your foundation shade match or something like that

then you goes would probably stop at a food court and she would sit there and just yap, i can see velvette as a big rambler, she can be very expressive with her words, especially when it comes to her passion topics, so she really grows to appreciate you if you decide to hear her out

and side note; if you guys run into one of her fans, she’ll make sure you see it, she needs you to know how fucking hot and famous she is

the both of you will probably stay until the mall is about to close, and then you’ll walk her home, but don’t worry, she’ll give you a small kiss for being so good ~

𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐤

honestly, husk would kinda be at loss a for what to do for a ‘date’ — it’s been a long damn time since he’s been romantically interested in someone, so he’s not too sure where to start

he’ll end up going to charlie for help, or angel, and he ends up deciding to take you out to a small diner that’s just a stroll away from the hotel

it’s not great there by any means, but it’s not bad, but more importantly, it’s safe, and that’s all he really wants for you

you two will spend most of the time conversing in conversation, nothing too crazy or life changing, but simple ice breakers here and there, husker is more awkward than you may think

despite the fact that he thinks it’s so fucking stupid, he takes charlie’s idea to share a smoothie with you, which ends up back-firing as he takes a sip and it goes through and up your straw and splatters onto your face

and you can’t help but blush as he gets a little too close to you as he wipes the smoothie off of your face with a few napkins…

𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫

alastor is a gentlemen, who aims to please, so he has a number of activities for you that are bound to blow you out of the water, even if the idea is simple on paper

first, he starts off by taking you out to dinner, the fanciest restaurant he could find, you both are dressed up to a tee

he makes sure to feed you every last bite of your food, treating you like a pet, its so sickeningly sweet you didn’t whether to be slightly offended or swoon right then and there

then he takes you out to a nice park, even if it’s already dark out, and he’ll have you on his arm and take a simple stroll with you, the attention is fully on you and he won’t shy away from giving you all the praise possible

shortly after, alastor will get his staff and play some gentle jazz music as you both sway under the hellish stars on what seems to be such a blissful night ~

i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to signedmio. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.

[oracle-of-dream]

Sweetness #2

Minors DNI

A continuation of Sweetness; Anton caught Sungchan taking advantage of your hypnosis and wants a piece.

Warnings: Male Reader, Big Cocks Riize, Creampie, Standing fuck, Forced entry, Hypnosis, Slight Dubcon, Rough sex

Wordcount: 2.2k

The morning was tense and quiet. You slept the longest, which kept the members shifting between rooms as they avoided the living room.

One by one, they filed into Sungchan's room.

"So now what?" Seunghan asked.

"We just act normal. Nothing happened last night. We just played games, got drunk, and went to bed. That's our story," Sungchan's calmness put order among the chaos in the others.

All except Anton, "Yeah. Nothing happened."

Sungchan raised his eyebrow, "You wanna talk to me about something?"

Anton shook his head, "No, it's nothing."

The members awkwardly left the room, trying to go about their morning. The only one who was brave enough to go into the living room was Wonbin. He walked right past you while you slept on the couch, giving the others the courage to do the same. Eventually, everyone started getting brave enough to move around and make noise.

As Sungchan went to his room from the kitchen, Anton pulled him into the bathroom.

"Anton, what the hell?"

"Don't give me that! What the fuck is with you?" Anton whispered.

Sungchan's face morphed into confusion, "What is it?"

"I saw you last night. I know what you did to y/n."

Sungchan's eyes widened, "You can't tell anyone about that." He thought about how you were faking the hypnosis. "How much did you hear?"

"I heard you tell him to suck your cock," Anton whispered even more when saying the last part of the sentence. "It's not fair that you can have free reign over him after preaching that we need to respect him."

"So I should tell everyone to go crazy on him?"

"No… I've got a proposal."

Sungchan raised an eyebrow, "Spit it out."

"I won't tell the others and Y/n what you did if you can buy me some alone time with him," Anton stuck his hand out for a handshake.

"What do you want from him?"

"You know what– We can never bring girls home, and we've barely had time to get around. So if I see my window, why shouldn't I take it?

Sungchan hated the thought of giving you away for Anton, but he had no choice. The members would tear him apart for being such a hypocrite.

"Fine. I'll buy you time," Sungchan shook Anton's hand, sealing the forbidden deal.

The two exit the bathroom just as you stir from your slumber.

Wonbin was watching the news on the TV near you, "Weather says a bad snowstorm is coming. We'll be snowed in together for the next few days."

"Yay! More time with my boys!" You cheered.

Some cheered, but Sungchan felt a knot in his stomach. Something was going to go wrong.

Anton was tingling from the news– More days with you. He couldn't admit it to Sungchan, but he'd always wanted to sleep with you. Even go for something more if you'd let him, but he never had the chance to ask you out before becoming a part of Riize.

You cooked breakfast for the others. You'd brought food since you knew their fridge would be empty, but there was no way it would last the snowstorm. You were going through your ingredients when you heard someone behind you.

The voice whispered, "Sweetie, can we talk in private?" It was Anton. Trying to command you into another room.

You stood, leaving your ingredients on the counter, and followed him as the rest of the boys watched you closely.

Wonbin spoke up, "Where ya headed, y/n?"

"I need to shower. Anton wanted to help me find the towels," You replied with a smile.

Anton was amazed at how fast you lied. Hypnosis was a scary beast.

Sungchan walked into the living room as You and Anton left it. They exchanged looks, and Sungchan started a conversation loud enough to grab everyone's attention. He was planning a trip into the cold before things got too bad.

Anton led you into his room and locked the door behind you. You could see his cock already bulging in his sweatpants.

"O-Okay, now, Sweetness, I want you to undress for me," Anton shifted his weight back and forth nervously.

You had to swallow a smile as you turned away from him to unbutton your shirt and slide your pants off as slowly as possible.

"You can go faster," He said impatiently.

You ignored him, teasing him as your underwear slid down your legs.

As soon as you were naked enough for him, Anton took your hand, guided you to his bed, and sat you down. He handled you rather clumsily, but you tried to Anton’s wants.

"You're like a doll… I wish you were more like you. I like you more that way," He muttered as he sized you up and slid his pants off.

Anton always wore baggy clothes, but he was an athlete through and through. His back was large, with broad shoulders and biceps that made you instantly smile.

"Sweetness. Lay down."

You did.

"How did he cum like this? Did he say something specific?" Anton muttered as he climbed on you, his hand sweeping your neck. He studied your face closely with tenderness, "God, you're beautiful… And for now, you're all mine. I've got it so bad for you, and I'm too much of a coward to tell you." He kissed your lips, "You still love me anyways, even if I'm a coward, right?"

You finally broke character with a big smile, "A coward?"

Anton flinched, "Y-You–" He climbed off you and covered his cock that was shaking in his boxers.

"Me," You smiled as you sat up. You slipped on a button-up shirt on Anton’s bed but left it open. "This is the part where you apologize for trying to take advantage of me," You raised an eyebrow.

"Right. I'm sorry. I wasn't going to do it– It wasn't you…" Anton hung his head with shame.

"Then, how about this? We keep up the illusion for a little longer. Let everyone think I'm under the spell. Everyone is in trouble, but how much depends on them."

Anton nodded, "And if we do that?"

"Well, you came in here to fuck me, right? We have to keep up the game. Or the others will catch on," You laid back down and put your arms out for him. "Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you. Don't forget the magic word."

"Sweetness?" Anton questioned.

You raised your eyebrows as you waited for his order.

"We're fucking. Right now. But you have to stay quiet. Any noises from you should be you calling me, Daddy," Anton's chest swelled at Daddy.

"Yes, Daddy," You cooed to him.

He took that as his go-ahead, diving into you. His large frame overtook you as he planted himself between your legs. He was excited, holding you down as his mouth crashed into your lips. Anton forgets how big he is as he watches you strain your neck to meet his lips.

"S-Sorry," He whispered as he lowered himself more.

Now his weight was crushing you, his hands tightly wrapped around your wrists as he threw you around without a care in the world.

"Anton, you're being too rough," You moaned.

"Don't be like that. I know you can handle it. You're Daddy's boy, right?" He lifted your leg onto his shoulder, stretching you as he pushed your leg toward your head. "Oh, so flexible~" He kissed your inner thigh as he lifted your other leg to match.

The stretch of your leg muscles burned, but nothing compared to feeling Anton pushing into you, as was rushing to get to the good part. He fumbled, missing your hole twice before slamming into you fully.

"Oh, holy– Fuck!" You covered your mouth to contain your noises. Your body recoiled as you tried to crawl away from Anton, sliding on your back as his cock slipped out of you.

"Don't run."

"It's too much! You're too big–"

Anton grabbed you by your hips and pulled you back into him, pushing his cock back into you. "You can take it," He rubbed your stomach and squeezed your size to encourage you. "Just breathe."

Anton breathed with you, caressing you as you looked into his eyes. "Sweetness. Stay quiet," He commanded as he lifted you onto him. He looked up at you, your nipples poking at his face, as he smiled, "You look beautiful on me, more than I imagined."

Your hands found their way to land on his shoulders. Anton's still were perched on your hips, pulling you down. Somehow he kept having more dick to shove into you. By the end of it, at least nine inches were inside of you. It was shorter than Sungchan's by two whole inches, but inside you, it didn't make a difference as you felt your brain melting.

"I'm all in. Can you bounce, Sweetness?" Anton asked.

You slithered your fingers into his hair and tugged on it, earning a girlish moan from him. "You shove all that in me and expect me to do the work?"

"N-No, of course not… I was kidding," Anton whinced at the pain of your tugging. But when you let him go, he put your hand back on his head, "Again, please."

You pulled on his hair again, and a more manly groan came out since he was ready this time. He lifted your hips and slammed you down onto him, knocking the air right out of you. The sensation shot up your spine as you saw stars on the ceiling. You couldn't bring your neck to relax enough to look down at Anton, and you pulled harder as he picked up the pace.

Anton told you to be quiet, but he was making more noise than you were. The moans, whimpers, the bed creaking, and the sound of your skin slapping together filled the room.

It was only three hits before you were cumming on Anton's stomach. Your fingers dug into his shoulder, and your voice was barely audible, "Wait, please– I need a second."

"No more waiting, I need to cum too!" Anton stood and carried you as he thrust into you, getting even deeper than earlier. Tears ran down your face from the overstimulation. You couldn't stop moaning and didn't stop as Anton lost his mind, pounding into you fiercely until one hard thrust made him spill into you. His cock shot out so much cum.

You twitched, reeling from every motion as Anton came down from his high. His chest heaved, "Did you survive?"

You couldn't answer– your jaw tightened shut.

"Sweetness? You okay?" Anton's voice was concerned when he realized how much he'd fucked you up.

Your hair was a mess, tear stains on your face, and your ass was spilling cum on the floor. You have bite marks on your neck and bruises on your hips.

"Oh god. Um– Y/n, please don't kill me. Let's get you down," Anton gently laid you on the bed, his cock still inside you. "I'm gonna pull out now, try and bare it." Anton pulled out in one quick motion, earning moans from you and turning you into a shuddering mess as you came again. He bit down his pride as he covered you under his sheet, "You lay here. I'll get towels and more clothes for you."

Anton left the room, turning the light off behind him as he slipped his shirt over his head. He fixed his hair and pants and straightened his back before entering the living room.

Seunghan and Eunseok were sitting at the table, staring at him.

"Really?" Seunghan spat.

"What?"

Eunseok jumped in, "Don't you think we could hear that? You weren't even trying to be quiet."

"You're lucky Sungchan convinced the others to try and run to the store with him to get more ingredients. We stayed back," Seunghan looked at Anton fiercely. "Let's talk, Anton."

Anton sat down at the table, "You can't tell the others!"

"You're not in the position to tell us that! You broke the agreement. We all said we'd respect y/n, not fuck him."

"Sungchan broke it first!" Anton wanted to take it back as soon as he said it, but it was too late.

"Explain."

Anton explained what he'd seen the night before between you and Sungchan. Eunseok and Seunghan could hardly believe that he was such a hypocrite.

"Well, if you two can get a pass. Then we're getting on too," Seunghan laughed. "And I know we won't get caught like you two idiots. And you’ll help us, Anton."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then we'll tell y/n and the others. Sungchan will kill you for ratting him out. The others will kill you for fucking y/n. And y/n will kill us all for hypnotizing him, but you more because you took advantage of him."

Anton held in his smirk, knowing that you were testing everyone else. He didn't like the thought that everyone might make an attempt on you, but he couldn't ruin your plan. Especially if that meant he'd get to fuck you again.

"Okay, I'll help. But help me clean y/n up before the others get here."

Eunseok and Seunghan looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

Eunseok leaned in, "We'll handle that. Just get towels. We're going to take a shower."

Anton ran off to get the towels, trying not to get hard again as he thought about the both of them fucking you.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Robin with a reader that's a journalist

Characters: Robin x gn!reader

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: It's ya boi, definitelynotarobinsimp, I have returned from my exile of writing for Robin and logged into Tumblr to write… for Robin... I gacha’d for the whole c4 Robin, I’m gonna use the whole c4 Robin!

I could have returned sooner with one or two stupid posts, but with this one we are at 999 posts and I am not wasting number 1000 on a shitpost. /hj

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Robin

Truth be told, when you told Robin you were a journalist, she couldn’t help but be concerned. A part of her committed to answering your questions for as long as they remained sensical and didn’t pry into her private life, while another worried about what she would do if you turned out to be another obtrusive one that wouldn’t leave her alone no matter what.

However, when you proceeded not to ask her anything afterwards, simply continuing with your conversation as if nothing had happened, Robin couldn’t help but wonder what your deal was. Were you not interested in interviewing her or did you simply want to lure her into a false sense of calm to get things out of her you usually wouldn’t?

And so, the first few times the two of you chatted with each other, Robin remained on her guard, making sure not to say anything she’d regret, only for nothing to happen each and every time and before she knew it, her walls were slowly but surely coming down when talking to you, the two of you growing closer as they did.

As Robin got to know you better, she came to realize that your interest in writing stories about her was as non-existent as it could be. Even if she said something she realized she had meant to keep a secret, there’d be no headline to suit it the following day, you simply responded with a secret of your own. Whether it was to make her feel better or to give her ammunition to assure mutual assured destruction, the songstress didn’t know, and before she knew it, she didn’t care either.

What you found great pleasure in however, was writing news stories about people writing news stories about her. Sometimes she’d find your name under an article writing about creeps taking photos of unsuspecting women while the pictures you took of paparazzis whenever you noticed one following the two of you on an public outing littered the article, other times she’d find it while reading about you being sued for the very same articles.

And yet, no matter how often she tried talking you out of it, you’d do it again.

The moment the two of you saw a bright flash emanate from a nearby bush, you hastily pulled out your camera, aiming it at the source before Robin even had the time to react, quickly trying to talk to you as you snapped your first pictures.

“Oh, I got his face”, you marveled excitedly as you glanced down at your camera, reviewing the photos you took as the songstress’ words failed to reach you.

“Wait, you don’t have to do this”, Robin desperately whispered to you, knowing full well how much trouble you were once again going to get yourself into, causing you to finally respond to her.

“Don’t they bother you?” You asked earnestly, only for her to quickly shake her head, cheeks growing ever so slightly red as she wasn’t used to voicing her less positive thoughts.

“Of course they do, but-” That was enough for you, as you shot her a big smile before once again looking down at the screen of your camera.

“Then I’ll do it. I already have a great headline in mind.”

“You’ll get sued.” She tried one last desperate attempt, only for you to almost look amused, that possibility never having stopped you from doing your thing.

“I have great lawyers.”

[kotias]

Ineffable Rockstars

Time to properly become creatively feral about the Ineffable Rockstars project with @vavoom-sorted-art, @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist , @daneecastle, @moonyinpisces and Stitcherydoo!

Summary of the story: human!AU, Crowley and Aziraphale are rockstars in their respective groups, Celestial Harmonies and Hell's Rebuke. Word is out that those two groups have bad history together, and therefore the two of them, while shamelessly talking to each other any festival they get to meet at, do have to be careful about being seen together by their own bands.

Summary of this excerpt: Aziraphale explains the story of the two bands to Crowley, who has arrived after everything went down and was kept in the dark by his mates.

Lyrics: written for the purpose of this fic.

Word count of the excerpt: 872 words

Excerpt:

Crowley sat down next to Aziraphale, whose eyes laid probably a second too long on those long fingers, on this chest showing so proudly from behind his open shirt- He coughed and drank a large gulp from the flute, clutching at the glass like a lifeline.

“It’s- it’s alright. Are you feeling comfortable? How was the concert?”

“Hah, acting like I didn’t see you in the audience, are ya?” Crowley asked with a smirk, and Aziraphale looked away, feeling the heat building up on his face.

“Well, we do need to keep it silent, don’t we?” he answered nonetheless with a coy smile, sipping on his drink.

“Why, though? It’s completely beyond me; Bee recruited me right after the split between Celestial Harmonies and Hell’s Rebuke, but there’s always been… you know, a feeling that it didn’t happen for no reason.”

“They haven’t explained it to you?” Crowley shook his head, and Aziraphale sighed. “No wonder you’re lost. Well, to put it simply… Hell’s Rebuke’s members were part of Celestial Harmonies, a few years ago.”

“Yes, I know that-”

“Let me talk, please; I would like to make sure we work with the same information.”

As he began explaining the official history of the two bands, he was cut by a thunder of clapping as the concert was coming to an end, and he and his counterpart felt compelled to stand up and join the applause.

When you reached Summer,

You lost sight of the star lights,

Questions died in your throat,

Cursing a future that is naught

And the night falling upon you

Left you laying awake with open eyes.

After two encore songs and enough clapping to make their hands and wrists sore, Crowley and Aziraphale walked towards another scene and stayed in relative distance, ensuring that they would hear each other. “So, you were saying, Hell’s Rebuke and Celestial Harmonies.”

“Ah! Yes; so, this is fairly public knowledge.” Crowley nodded impatiently. “At least, it is not something that we are actively hiding, neither of the two groups; somebody who knows how to Google us would be able to find this information.” Aziraphale frowned, crossing his arms. “Honestly, that is why it concerns me a little that you have not been informed of this; it is a fairly common question that people are trying out on us, asking about the other group to see how we react. Anyways-”

The vendors just a few metres from them had started cooking a few crepes, and Crowley did not miss the eyes darting towards them. “Want some? C’me on, it’s my treat,” he insisted as Aziraphale’s eyebrows raised -and it was obvious that he wasn’t going to refuse such an offer.

“Well, if you insist,” he answered, the corners of his lips curling up and his eyelashes fluttering; Crowley’s heart missed a beat, his fingers pressed against his flute, and he barely managed to keep a groan from reaching out of his mouth.

“You do have to tell me more, though; ‘specially if you think my ignorance could bite me in the ass.”

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale’s voice dropped as they reached the line, keeping it to the level of a private conversation. “Bee and Gabriel were… an item.”

“Oh, excellent start. If that’s only the beginning, I might have to stock up on popcorn with that crepe of yours.”

“Heh, well, it might be one of the more interesting aspects of this entire story, so do not keep your expectations too high.”

“No, no, don't kill my hopes, now. Go on, tell me everything, I’m sure it will be full of riveting details, Bee’s never been good at keeping things tidy anyways.”

Aziraphale groaned. “Oh, you should see Gabriel when he gets involved… Ah- one crepe with sugar, thank you,” he said with a bright smile to the vendor. “Alright, so- long story short, the band was originally founded by the two of them; excellent musicians those two are, and the band did have quite the promising future before it. We started having a fairly good reputation.”

“Black coffee and a serving of fries. The name’s been around for a while now, that’s right- I remember seeing it ten years ago on some festival announcements in my city. Cash, thanks.”

“We have, yes. We were very local for a long while, but…”

“What changed?”

“Gabriel and the others were wishing to go professional; Bee and who are now Hell’s Rebuke were not willing to do that.”

“Ah, I see. Well, they didn't change much in that aspect,” Crowley mumbled sourly, extending his arms to grab the crepe and coffee. He gave the dessert over, then took his serving of fries, and they left the vendor’s stand. “Wait, where did you stand? You stayed with Celestial Harmonies, after all.”

“Hm, well…”

That did not sound like somebody who was fully happy to have stayed, Crowley thought, and he crept closer to Aziraphale, nudging him with his elbow. “Come on, spill the beans! Honestly, I’m looking to go in that direction, if there’s anything I should be aware of…”

“Being professional was, and still is, something that I hold dear,” Aziraphale explained, his slow speech feeling heavy, like he was choosing every word carefully.

[honestly-mad-person]

YOU'RE MY SECRET

｡･:*˚:✧ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

｡･:*˚:✧ genre: smut (oral sex, vaginal sex, moans, orgasm, wet sounds, first sex)

｡･:*˚:✧ word count: 7,7K (The biggest story, yeah)

｡･:*˚:✧ a/n: When I was writing the story, I couldn't throw away the storyline of Chapter 8. How does he feel when he sees MC? Is he afraid of losing her again or will his unwavering love for her guide him through the stars so that your eyes can meet again?

In this story, I tried to describe the MC's inner feelings as if it were familiar to her. It's like it was there, but she can't remember. She'll never remember.

I want to answer MS's question about his experience on behalf of Xavier about his chastity:

"I imagined you many times, I imagined your body, and I studied a lot to fulfill the most intimate desires of your soul at the right time."

In a way, he was virginal. But next to you, he could not restrain his predatory nature.

This has nothing to do with the original character and is entirely my take on the situation.

Enjoy your reading! See ya next time!

The sun outside the window was already sinking below the horizon, filling the living room with a warm, golden color.

Looking at the cityscape, your gaze shifted to the blond haired boy sitting across from you at the table. There was a rustle and his fingers turned the page of the book. Silence reigned in the room again, broken only by barely audible breathing.

Looking at his face, as always serious, you were not thinking about your book, but about how attractive he is. His features seemed softer in the evening sunlight.

Xavier's eyes smoothly moved from one side of the page to the other, absorbing the text and occasionally they closed for a moment. Whenever this happened, his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings.

Propping his head with his hand, he was constantly reading a book he had recently bought in a bookstore. You had one of his personal books from bookshelf.

The sight of him made the corners of your lips turn up. An outstanding young man. An experienced hunter. And part-time your boyfriend. However, there was something strange about him.

Somehow, you were watching a movie in the evening, cuddling. When your hand accidentally landed on his thigh, near his private area, he winced and looked down to tell you that your hand was not where it should be and asked him to remove it.

Confused, you looked at him. Up close, you could see how he shyly looked away, and the tips of his ears flashed a blush.

Suddenly, a thought flashed in your head. Did he have someone before you?

It would be awkward to ask him about it. Besides, he never told you everything directly. You should have asked him about what interested you in him, as Xavier immediately changed the subject.

Although you were officially a couple, there was nothing beyond kissing. Xavier never even kissed you deeply. Just sweet and innocent kisses on the lips.

Today, you wanted to know the truth. The truth that he tries so hard to hide from you.

In a moment you realize that his blue eyes are watching you. Coming back to reality, you blinked a few times.

— What? – asked Xavier, keeping his hand on the page he was just reading.

— What are you talking about? – you asked, not understanding the reason for this question.

— You… – he said quietly, drawing your gaze to his lips. – You’re looked at me...

— Indeed?

— Yes, – nodding his head, his lips barely parted. – Do I have something on my face?

— No, nothing like that, – you continued with a smile. – You just look even more beautiful in the evening light.

Hearing these words, Xavier looked away in embarrassment towards the window. He does it again. He tries not to look at you when you make him blush.

— Hey, Xav, – you called softly, tilting your head to the side.

— The sun is setting beautifully, – he said absently, without turning his head.

Looking at the horizon, you saw a really beautiful picture.

The sun was already half visible, and the sky surrounding it exploded with incredibly beautiful colors, iridescent from yellow-hot to purple. The clouds shone in the evening light, shimmering with a pearly sheen.

Suffocating at this beauty, you didn't immediately realize that you had fallen into another Xavier trap.

Mentally slapping yourself on the forehead, you turned your gaze back to him. Predictably, seizing the moment, he plunged back into his reading. It's tricky. Very clever.

— Xavier, – you said confidently, breaking the silence.

— Yes? – raising his head, he looked at you as if nothing had happened before.

— Tell me, do you have experience with women? – directly asking, you leaned towards him, placing your hands on the table. – And don't even think of running away from it.

— What do you mean by… – Xavier fell silent, looking into your eyes, fascinated by their beauty and brilliance.

— What I said, – was the answer immediately. – Have you kissed a woman for real?

Xavier was silent. His eyes slowly wandered over your face, sometimes going down, then going up. Soon, he spoke.

— Yes, with you – his look changed a little, but you couldn't understand what was wrong with him. – To be more precise, today at lunch and before going to the shopping center.

Stunned by this, you let out a heavy breath, forcing your eyebrows raised in surprise to fall back to their usual place.

— I'm not asking about myself, but in general, – clarifying, your gaze was fixed on him.

A shadow of embarrassment fell on his face and touching the tip of his nose with his fingers, he reluctantly answered.

— Not sure it happened to anyone but you…

— Not sure if it wasn't?

Under such pressure, Xavier looked away again. This time, not only his ears were red, but also his cheeks.

You got tired of this uncertainty, so you got up from the table, pushing your chair back.

A new noise caught Xavier's attention and he tensed up noticeably as he looked at you as you approached him. He mechanically pushed his chair back, sitting facing you.

— What?... – he didn't have enough time to finish his question, because the tips of your fingers touched his jaw, gently tracing the skin to his chin.

This small action made him lift his head and look into your eyes, which you could see the sunset in if you looked closely.

— Let's play a game, Xavier, – you said quietly, as if afraid that someone else might overhear your secret conversation. – The game is called "Don't look away."

— I don't like the name of this game anymore, – replied Xavier, feeling the warmth of your fingers and realizing that he won't be able to protect himself from you for long.

— Look into my eyes and don't look away, okay? – your fingers started moving again, releasing from his chin and barely touching his skin, moving down his neck, making him shudder briefly.

— What are you doing? – he said quietly, again visibly blushing.

His eyes continued to look into yours. A slight shiver went through your body at the realization of what exactly you wanted to do.

The tips of your fingers gently touched Xavier's neck and in the silence of the kitchen, in which there was still the smell of lemon cookies baked by you at the request of the owner of the apartment, you could clearly hear his uneven breathing.

Lowering your gaze, you looked at your fingers exploring every inch of his skin. Noticing that Xavier turned his head to the side, you sharply raised your eyes to his face.

— Xavier, I can look away and you can't, – you remarked, waiting for your eyes to meet again.

— I don't understand why you're doing this, – he asked quietly, clearing his throat.

You felt the vibration of each word with your fingers, shifting your gaze from his eyes to the fingers resting on his neck.

— I want to play with you, – you answered, continuing to move downwards, following your hands, which were kissing down from the neck to the chest.

You felt the soft fabric of his homemade sweater, which he didn't wear almost every day. Sometimes, you saw him wearing other clothes. You had some doubts if Xavier knew how to use a washing machine, but today you could smell the pleasant smell of air conditioner all day. It was hard not to keep from poking my nose into his chest and inhaling that magical smell of freshly washed clothes.

A heart beat under your fingers. It rattled a little faster than it should have, but you chalked it up to the closeness between you.

As your hands dropped below your chest, his hand grabbed your wrist. Looking up, you looked into his eyes.

Confused, he looked at you.

— Stop, – he said, still holding your hand.

— Xavier, – you said, bringing your face closer to his. – Don't move.

His eyes widened when you got close enough to barely touch his lips with yours. His weak breath touched your lips, fearing to somehow harm you.

Smirking the corner of your lips, you closed your eyes as you kissed him. Your wrist was squeezed tighter, but ignoring it, you touched the back of his neck with your other, free hand. A tremor was felt under your fingers. Your heart skipped a few beats and moaning softly against his lips, you pulled away from him, breaking the kiss.

Taking in Xavier's eyes, filled with confusion and curiosity, you smiled again.

— Do you want more? – you asked and received in response his silent nod of the head. – Then let go of my hand and sit tight, okay?

Your voice sounded gentle, as if you were asking your dog to obey your commands.

Fingers reluctantly parted, letting go of your wrist and placing his hands on his lap, Xavier continued to look into your eyes.

— Good boy, – you purred contentedly, connecting your lips again in a kiss.

Placing your hands around his neck, your fingers slowly trailed up her rear, causing another wave of shivers. Plunging them into your hair, you lightly squeezed it. From this, you felt a barely audible moan on your lips.

Your heart pounded in your chest again, causing the tips of your ears to light up.

This innocent, at first glance, reaction of Xavier caused you to have the dirtiest thoughts about him. The way you controlled him, the way he responded to your touch, all of it made the warmth of his stomach rise.

Unable to resist, your tongue defiantly ran between his lips, demanding that he let you inside.

Fidgeting, Xavier hesitated for a few seconds, but after your fingers tightened on his hair, he obediently let you pass.

A moan of pleasure echoed through the kitchen and you weren't sure which one of you had created it.

Your tongue explored new territory, teasing with his tongue. Xavier didn't respond to your actions, giving you the upper hand in this little game. It made you even more convinced that he was a virgin. Soon, you felt a weak and unsure response from him.

Surprised, you broke the kiss and pulled away from him, breathing heavily.

— Did I… do something wrong? – he asked innocently, looking into your eyes.

When Xavier returned your kiss, you felt the air in your chest suddenly run out and you felt a little dizzy.

Looking down at his hands, which were clenched into fists, you felt dizzy again. For unknown reasons, you wanted to touch them, so that they would gently caress your cheeks, neck, chest, stomach, and even in your mind you imagined these fingers buried deep inside you.

Your body responded to such thoughts with an appropriate reaction. Blushing, you looked up at Xavier and looking into his eyes, you felt your underwear getting wet.

— Oh, you're blushing, – he remarked in his voice, still looking at you.

— It's hot, that's all, – dismissing his words, you were about to remove your hands, until suddenly he grabbed your wrist again.

Looking at him with a dumb question, you watched as he pressed your palm to his cheek, staring at you.

— Please don't go, – he whispered softly, rubbing against your hand, holding it gently with his hand. – Did I do something wrong?

Your brain shut down. Xavier looked at you with the same "puppy" look. Mixed with your lewd thoughts about him and the way he was gently rubbing his cheek against your hand, it made you freeze in place, not giving you a chance to resist such critical damage.

There was a sharp sting in your chest and you, red as a tomato, pulled out your hand, pressing it to your chest.

— Xavier, you! – suffocating from his mercy and the shame of your thoughts, you continued to mumble something incoherent. – Bamn…

Xavier just tilted his head to the side, looking sadly at you, still holding his hand where your hand was for a few seconds.

After giving you some time to cool down, Xavier reached out a hand in your direction, not daring to touch you.

You looked at his fingers, then at his face. He wasn't looking at you anymore. His gaze, filled with sadness and pity, was fixed on his outstretched hand, which seemed to be trying to grasp something in the air.

Your heart throbbed again and, exhaling, you took his hand. He suddenly looked up, looking into your eyes.

— Just a little more, – you said and, approaching him, stood between his legs, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His head was at the level of your stomach. Still hesitant, he gently wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his cheek against yours.

With a smile on the corner of your lips, your fingers gently scratched his head, going through his hair, while your gaze was directed at the already faded sky.

— I'm sorry if I did something wrong, – Xavier suddenly muttered, pulling you away from the view.

— No, you didn't do anything wrong, – you immediately assured, blushing again at your own thoughts.

A few more kisses like that and you could really pounce on him as if you were hungry for a plate of hot and delicious food.

You were drawn to him like a magnet and it was difficult for you to resist this force. You understood this best when Xavier returned your kiss.

— Then why did you stop touching me? – he asked again in his innocent voice.

It made you shudder. Fingers froze.

— Well, it's hard to say... – trying to find words, you mumbled under your breath. – Well...

— I want more, – came to your ears as Xavier's hands fell on your thighs and gently, but firmly, sat you on his knee.

Squealing, you looked into his eyes and wanted to pour him a whole wagon and a small bucket of outrage about this, but when you met his gaze, you froze. He seemed normal, but something was still wrong.

You saw in his eyes a vague reflection of yourself in the evening rays. The longer you looked, the stronger the attraction to him became. His eyes, like a black hole, pulled you deeper and deeper.

You were pulled out of this trance by his hand, which touched your burning cheek.

— You're looking at me like that again… – Xavier said in a quiet and calm voice.

— H-how? – you asked, touching his palm with your fingers.

— As if there is something on my face, – shrugging his shoulders, he gently stroked his cheek with his thumb. – So… are you going to continue your game or not?

Biting your lip, you felt your face flush again.

— Why do you blush so often? – asked Xavier, looking into your face.

— It's not as important as the fact that… – you paused and exhaled, relaxing. - I don't want to play anymore...

Your words madeXavier freeze. Even his stroking stopped. He looked into your eyes silently.

— I don't want to play with you, I want to kiss you again, – clarifying, your palms touched his face and your lips quickly found what they needed so much. Its warmth.

The last line of defense was destroyed. What you had planned as a scouting mission to get information turned into the fact that you couldn't tear yourself away from his lips.

They seemed so familiar, so warm and welcome that it was really hard to stop even for a second.

Xavier pushed you away ever so slightly, but still gently, occasionally breaking the kiss to give the two of you a chance to take a few gulps of fresh air before your lips pressed together again.

Losing your head from the desire this boy was awakening in your body, you melted every time your tongues intertwined in a passionate dance. He absorbed you, absorbed like a black hole absorbs light, without letting it out.

The only thing you longed for, what you reached for at this moment, was Xavier. His lips, so hot from many kisses, his tongue, which was already confidently responding to you, his hands, which hugged you with a firm grip, pressing you to him.

Your knee touched his groin and moaning into his lips, you felt that you weren't the only one turned on. Breaking away from him with difficulty, you looked at his face, stained with blush. You were both breathing heavily as you looked at each other. Xavier didn't move, as if he was afraid that you would run away if he made even one move.

Your hand rested on his chest and slid down. Looking into your eyes, Xavier barely furrowed his brows, still breathing heavily.

— What are you... – he didn't have time to finish the sentence, as a moan that broke from his lips resounded in the room. – Damn…

His eyebrows came together at the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, he leaned towards you, resting his head on your shoulder. Your other hand rested on his back, stroking his spine with the tips of your fingers. You heard a muffled moan again as your other hand traced his cock through the fabric of his house pants. What you felt confused you a little. You didn't expect that Xavier would turn out to be… a little bigger than you imagined.

You tried to imagine him in your mouth, you thought about whether he would at least enter.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by another moan and an arm wrapping around your waist, digging his fingers firmly into your side. Taking a deep breath, you felt dizzy and tinnitus again. Tomorrow you will definitely find bruises from his fingers on your body.

— Xavier, – you whispered into his ear, as if he were a child seeking refuge on his mother's chest. – Do you hear me, Xavier?

— Mgh… – he groaned, barely nodding his head.

— Relax, – your lips touched his ear, sending shivers down his body.

It even seemed to you that this tremor was heard below as well, as if his member also twitched at the signal of the body.

— Please, – he whispered hoarsely, not taking his eyes off you. – Don’t go…

Something about his words made you wince. Why did he ask you not to go? Why did he say that? Did you give him any reason to think that? Was it something else? Blinking, you couldn't clearly define the reason that could cause these words. Your lips touched his temple, giving him the softest kiss full of love.

— I won't go anywhere from you, – you answered, feeling how tightly he gripped your waist. – I will always be with you.

He flinched at your words. You stopped, still keeping your hand on his already wet pants from the pre-ejaculate.

His head slowly lifted from your shoulder. Meeting his eyes, you felt your heart freeze. You saw longing, fear and need in his eyes.

— What... – not being able to say anything else, you felt an extremely strong desire to comfort him.

Your lips met his again, when you were about to remove your hand from his erection, until suddenly, he stopped you from doing so, placing his hand on yours.

Breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours, touching the tips of his nose.

— Please… – he whispered, barely shaking his head.

You lost your mind not only at his physical proximity, but also at how defenseless he seemed.

— Xavier, – you whimpered softly, pressing your forehead against his.

No matter how much you wanted it, but gently pushing him away from you with your free hand, you looked into his eyes.

— Let me go, – you asked, looking at your waist. – I won't go anywhere, I promise.

Xavier put a lot of effort into letting you go. His brows came together again at the bridge of his nose as his fingers parted, giving you your freedom. His eyes were locked on you as you rose from his lap.

Xavier looked as if he was ready to rush after you at that very second if you suddenly disappeared from his life. You had rarely seen him so tense and it broke your heart.

Slowly kneeling down in front of him, you placed your hands on his hips.

— Everything is fine, you have nothing to worry about, – stroking him, you felt how his left leg twitched.

— You… – Xavier whispered, touching your shock with his fingers. – You don't need to do this...

— Shh, – drawing sharply, you rubbed against his arm, running your fingers up his thighs. 

Groaning, Xavier covered his eyes. His hand barely felt as your fingers caught on the elastic of your pants.

— Xavier, – you just said his name, when suddenly he lowered himself a little lower, for your convenience.

Smirking the corner of your lips, you pulled at the elastic, pulling Xavier's house pants down. Underneath them you saw dark blue boxers, in which his excited member was clearly visible with a wet stain on them.

Your lips touched his shaft through the fabric. Xavier groaned again, breathing heavily.

You understood that he wanted it. I wanted you to take it sooner. I wanted to be in you faster. Fill you with myself. Cling to your body and never let go. And it made you happy. Be glad that your desires were mutual.

Pulling off his underwear, his slender member was in front of your eyes, barely twitching with excitement. A transparent pearl of pre-ejaculatory substance was visible on the head. Having examined him completely, you saw a vein that swelled like a snake on him. Your insides groaned with desire and wasting no time, you took yours. The tip of the tongue passed over the vein.

Xavier's moans echoed throughout the kitchen as you held his base with your fingers and sucked his hot cock into your mouth.

— God, yes.. yes.. S-so hot.. – he moaned, throwing his head back every time his cock was fully inside, brushing the tip of your throat. - P-please, please, don't stop...

You didn't plan to stop. You wanted everything he could give you. Everything, to the last drop. You will suck everything out of him.

You felt how his cock, pulsating, rubbed against your tongue and stopped somewhere in your throat. Suppressing the tears that rolled into your eyes, you with even greater efforts did everything to bring Xavier maximum pleasure.

The wet sounds from each plunge of his cock into your mouth merged with Xavier's moans and echoed off the walls, dissolving into the air.

— Oh fuck… – Xavier whined, running his fingers through your hair. – D-don't stop... Please... please, I… I need to… please..

His whimpers and moans made you flow harder, harder as the head of his cock slid into your mouth. His fingers gripped your hair tighter, helping you move your head.

— Please… – Xavier kept whining, moving his hips to meet you.

You were no less crazy from his actions than he was from yours. Your swollen lips slid over his shaft, sucking more and more. You gave him what he wanted and you liked it.

— Fuck, p-princess, – Xavier threw his head back with a trembling voice. - I so want... to cum…

In the mix of the wet smacking of your lips against his cock, you opened your eyes wide, looking at him with a look of complete debauchery. Your mouth began to work even faster until your fingers, forming a ring, moved from below, from his base up, until they met your lips.

You swallowed his cock like your life depended on it. You desperately needed to get his cum. You needed her.

— P-princess! – Xavier whined, trembling under your lips like an autumn leaf in the wind. – Wait! Stop, please!

Ignoring his pleas, you looked up at him, the way his eyes rolled in pleasure and the way he tried to push you away from him.

Your hands rested on his hips as your lips pressed into a ring around his cock. The tip of your nose touched his groin every time you swallowed.

— Please, please, stop, I.. I'm coming soon, – Xavier begged you to stop, unable to watch the way you ate him down below.

In response, you tightened your fingers around his pants, pressing your entire tongue against his length, enveloping him in the warmth of your wet mouth.

Gritting his teeth, Xavier tried to keep himself from letting his cum down your throat. You both fought. He was fighting not to cum, but you demanded it from him.

Your mouth, your throat, your tongue, which so kindly received his cock, did not give him a chance. In the process of another absorption, his hips twitched and made a movement to meet your mouth.

Xavier let out a soft whimper and you felt the hot cum rush down your throat. After swallowing some of the liquid, tears welled up in your eyes. Too deep, too much. But you accepted him. Taking every drop he gave you, flooding your throat and mouth with his cum.

Feeling him twitch inside you, you slowly let him out of your mouth, squeezing the shaft and head with your lips one last time.

Looking up, you saw Xavier leaning back in his chair, breathing heavily. His fingers still gripped the edge of the table as his other hand covered his face.

You felt the remains of the sticky sperm on your tongue and swallowed it along with the saliva, licking your lips.

— Xavier? – quietly speaking his name, you stroked his thighs, but he did not answer you. – Did you fall asleep?

Giggling, you got up from your knees and were about to touch his hand with yours, until suddenly he grabbed your hand first.

With a quick movement of his free hand, Xavier dropped everything on the table to the floor. There was the sound of falling books and the clink of a broken plate of lemon cookies.

You didn't have time to look at the mess Xavier had made from putting you on the table like you were a rag doll. The table creaked piteously as the hi's hands rested on its surface. Immediately, he pressed his hips against you as if he had always been between your legs.

— Let me show you how I can work… – he whispered, his lips falling on your neck.

This time, your sonorous moans filled the room as his lips left small, burgundy kiss marks and teeth marks on you again and again. As if mad, he bit your skin, licked it with his tongue and then bit again. Arching your back from his every movement, you felt how he lit a real fire in the bottom of your stomach.

His hand crawled under your shirt and went up to find your breast.

You moaned even louder as fingers pinched your nipple, playing with it.

— Xavier! – with a voice hoarse from excitement, you bent over to meet him.

His hands pulled your shirt up and leaving your neck alone, his lips kissed your breasts, squeezing them with his fingers. Xavier moaned softly in unison with you as his lips covered one nipple then the other. The hot tip of his tongue caressed the tip, sucking it into his mouth.

Throwing your head back, you whimpered, not knowing where to put your hands. The feel of him squeezing your breasts, biting them, made your body squirm beneath him.

His lips left new marks on your skin as they trailed down.

— Why do you look at me so often with your eyes... – he rasped, running his entire tongue from that navel up to the stomach, looking at you with eyes full of desire.

Breathing heavily, you barely felt any movement from Xavier, giving you some time to rest. Your breasts, swollen and covered with traces of his kisses, rose up from the accelerated breathing and shook from a strong heartbeat.

Xavier waited patiently for an answer as he moved up to your face, looking at your red hot face, eyes closed, lashes fluttering and lips swollen from the kisses and what you had done to him a few minutes ago.

— You hear me? – Xavier rasped, leaning down to your lips, barely touching them.

— Ahhh.… – you moaned without opening your eyes and reached for a kiss, until suddenly he pulled away from you. – What?...

When your eyelashes fluttered again and you opened your eyes, you met his gaze with his extremely beautiful blue eyes.

— Why do you keep looking at me with that look of yours? – he repeated his question, running his hand over your cheek.

— What look? – your voice also sounded hoarse, but it didn't bother you much.

— A look like… – Xavier held back the growing desire in himself, which could be seen by the emotion his face was now expressing.

Furrowing his brows, he shook his head as if remembering your eyes at that moment. Licking his lips with the tip of his tongue, he looked at you with a faint smile at the corners of his lips.

— You look at me like I'm your dog, – he said, pressing himself against your crotch.

Your eyes widened as you felt his cock turn to hard again, rubbing against you.

Xavier was leaning against the table, barely breathing as he stared into your eyes as his hips moved on their own. Throwing your head back, you closed your eyes, moaning softly.

— Xavier, I didn't… – you started searching for words to excuse yourself, but feeling fingers on your cheek, you opened your eyes, looking up at him.

— If that's what you want, I'll be your dog, – he said, confidently maintaining eye contact. – I will.

Your heart froze for a second when the meaning of what was said came to your mind. Your body, excited by his touch, stretched like a string.

— I'll be your dog, – Xavier repeated in your ear, pressing his body against you.

The table creaked pitifully again as his hips began to slowly rub against you as his hot breath burned your ear.

— X-xavier… – you begged, shaking under his weight.

— Do you want me to bark for you? – he whispered with a hint of fun in his voice. - Woof, woof…

— Stop, please… Ah… – his hip movements became faster, making you whimper even more at the feeling of his cock rubbing against you through the fabric of your pants.

— Princess… – Xavier whispered, pulling away from you and looking into your eyes that clearly read an uncontrollable, raging desire, he moaned softly, narrowing his eyes. 

In your thoughts, you really compared Xavier to a puppy. You took care of him, fed him and stroked him when needed. Now, there was nothing in him that combined him with that Xavier - sweet, shy and funny.

From one look at him, you felt how every cell of your body burned, how your womb wanted him inside, how your lips wanted his lips, how your body wanted to be pressed by his body, you felt how you needed Xavier.

Xavier, who one moment is looking at you in confusion at your next stupidity, and the next he's caressing your breasts with his tongue.

Almost crying with excitement, you nodded your head.

- Good! Xavier, I beg you, please, – you begged, arching your back and feeling his arousal below.

— Then let me satisfy you in a way that only I can, – his voice sounded in your ear and after kissing the corner of your lips, he lowered himself down.

Biting the tip of your finger, you lifted your head as you watched as Xavier trailed a wet trail of kisses down your body.

He stirred your butterflies even more when his lips stopped below the waistband of your pants. Looking up at you, he unbuttoned first the button and then the zipper, pulling the tab down. His hands carefully pulled your pants off your thighs, leaving you in your panties.

Feeling the fabric slide down your ankles, you bucked your hips shyly. Seeing this, Xavier gave you a surprised look, but without saying anything, he leaned into your stomach. Lips gently touched the skin, causing goosebumps.

Hitting your head on the table, you felt the heat from his lips. His hands touched your thighs and after stroking the tender skin, his fingers tightened.

A moan escaped your lips as Xavier jerked you closer to him, to the edge of the table which creaked once again. His gentle stroking made you feel more comfortable and without realizing it, you relaxed.

— Good girl, – Xavier whispered, his nose touching the fabric of your panties before pulling them off you. – I'm going crazy from your smell...

— Stop it… – you whispered, ashamed of his words.

He just giggled at your response.

The cold air touched your skin as Xavier carefully removed your panties and dropped them on the floor. Kneeling in front of you, he let out a stifled moan, inspecting your lust-soaked pussy.

— I want… – he said, wrapping his arms around your hips and pressing his lips to yours.

As if you were electrocuted, you bent over, groaning. Feeling his tongue moving between your folds, touching your clit, you lost the ability to breathe.

His tongue moved slowly, mixing your juices with his saliva. When his tip hit your clit, he lingered on it, pressing lightly. Your body responded to Xavier's caresses with even stronger tremors. His arms draped your legs over his shoulders, gripping your trembling hips.

Licking every millimeter of your pussy, he reveled in your moans that erupted from the depths of your chest. He tormented you with his rhythm, making your back arch every time his tongue touched your clit. Moaning from the pleasure he was bringing you, his tongue circled around the pearl for his lips to gently suck your clit.

— God, Xavier, please… – breathless and feeling dizzy, you grabbed his hair, squeezing your hips. – So good... Ah, please... Faster...

Your whining mixed with the wet sounds and spread throughout the kitchen. His fingers tightened on her hips and he obediently sped up, moving his tongue. Your eyes sparkled with pleasure. Holding him to you with trembling hands, you felt that you were already on the verge.

— Xavier, nghh… Yes, so good! Don’t... ah.. Don’t stop... – you fell silent, arching from the sharp shock of the current throughout your body, which started from the bottom of your stomach and spread throughout your body.

Your entire consciousness has been compressed to a single point. To the point below, which your sweet dog licked mercilessly with his tongue. A wave of shivers slowly rolled over you. Your body shook, your thighs squeezing Xavier's head in orgasm, threatening to crush him. Hitting your head on the table again, you sobbed, feeling that Xavier didn't think to stop there.

Letting go of his hair, you tried to somehow crawl away from him, but his firm grip on your hips prevented you from doing so.

— Stop, – you begged quietly, shaking from his tongue, still absorbed in the orgasm.

Squirming on the table, tears of pleasure fell from your eyes and it wasn't until you sobbed that Xavier stopped. His tongue trailed over your entrance, oozing your pleasure. He collected every drop, leaving nothing behind. You could feel his tongue inside as he moved inside you and losing the ability to breathe, you clenched your teeth.

— Yummy, – Xavier said, pulling away from you.

Barely finding the strength to raise your head to look at him, you clenched your whole body. With his usual calm expression on his face, he licked his lips with the tip of his tongue, wiping his wet chin with his fingers before licking the remains of your orgasm off of them.

Throwing your head back, your gaze went to the ceiling. You felt exhausted. Your head was spinning with pleasure, your heart was pounding wildly, and your body still sometimes shuddered. There was a rustle and Xavier's face appeared in your field of vision.

You moaned as you felt his cock brush against your pubic bone, his lips falling to your neck again.

— Xav… – you begged hoarsely and quietly, slowly regaining control over your body.

— Yes? – he mumbled, hiding in the crook of your neck.

— I... I want you… – you said, wrapping your weak arms around his neck, pressing him to your chest. – Please…

You felt him tense under your hands. Moaning softly, he pressed against your body for a while longer, inhaling your scent. Pulling back, he slipped out of your arms and looked into your eyes.

— You… are you sure? – he asked, swallowing loudly.

You nodded and looked down, touching his neck with your fingers, smiling gently.

— I want to belong to you not only with my heart, but also with my body, – looking into his wide-open eyes again, you smiled even wider. – I want to give you everything I have: my thoughts, my love, my body, my desires, my pleasure, my life...

He shuddered at the last words. His look changed. It became darker. You looked again into the black hole that swallowed you.

— Say it… – he whispered, looking into your eyes. – Say it again... Please...

— I want to give you everything, – you repeated, holding back your laughter. – From my thoughts to my life. It's all just for you.

His lips pressed greedily into yours. The salty taste of your orgasm made your head spin again. You went crazy with the realization of how hard he worked to make you cum and the heat spread again in the lower part of your stomach.

Xavier's tongue immediately entered your mouth, taking complete control of the kiss, causing you to moan into his lips. You began to gasp, unable to fight his onslaught. Your hands touched his neck, shoulders and went down to his chest, reaching his cock.

You heard a moan as your fingers brushed against his shaft as your hips desperately tried to get into a position to drive him into your lap, but without Xavier's help you were having no luck.

After breaking the kiss, he barely touched your lips with his for some time, breathing heavily.

— Xavier, please.. move, – you whispered, almost whining against his lips.

Without answering, he moved his hips away from you, allowing you to direct him. Your heart pounded as the head of his cock thrust into your passage.

— Please, – you begged again as Xavier looked into your eyes, increasing the distance between your faces.

— I won't be able to stop, – he muttered, blushing.

— I don't want you to stop, – you shook your head sharply, taking his face in your hands. – You have to make me yours, remember?

A light flashed in his eyes and moving one hand to the edge of the table, above your head, he supported his cock with the other, penetrating you. Your womb met his hot and wet, making you both gasp at the sensation.

Leaning towards you, you touched your foreheads to each other and closed your eyes, enjoying the merger. Your hands were still holding his face as his cock slowly stretched you from the inside, filling you up.

— Xavier… – you whispered, feeling your walls squeeze his throbbing length inside you.

— Oh... fuck.. it's so tight inside you, – he whimpered and, letting go of his cock, let him enter the end on his own, putting his hand on your waist.

In those brief seconds, you felt as if the whole world had disappeared, leaving the two of you alone. Nothing but him inside you. When his head touched your cervix, you finally let out a moan of pleasure. At first, you were uncomfortable with his size, and knowing that, Xavier made a frantic effort not to thrust into you immediately. Even with a blinding desire for you, he still cares about your comfort.

— How do you feel? – he rasped, raising his head and looking into your eyes.

You took a short breath, nodding your head. Moving your arms around his neck, you pulled Xavier closer to you, wrapping your legs around his waist. His nose nuzzled into the crook of her neck and his hips began to move slowly. Your soft moans blended together as Xavier pressed his body against you, bumping into your cervix.

Scratching his neck with your nails, you enjoyed every second of him being inside you. Your bodies were tightly connected inside. Your walls wrapped around his throbbing cock, making you hear his heavy breathing against your neck mixed with whimpers.

— It's so tight, – Xavier whispered, wrapping his arm around your waist. – I can't... think...

Your hips moved to meet his, urging him to speed up.

— Xav... faster... – closing your eyes, you restrained your moans to say these words and soon, you felt the friction become more intense.

— I won't stop, – he said, obediently complying with your request.

Your body arched beneath him every time his full cock disappeared into your womb. The sounds of bodies slapping against each other, the creaking of the table and your babble were music to your ears.

With each thrust, heat engulfed your body. It was becoming difficult to breathe, the head was spinning more and more, and the skin was slowly covered with a thin layer of sweat. Suddenly, Xavier was out of your arms and towering over you, he threw your legs over his shoulders, keeping your hips in the air.

You moaned loudly. when the cock was thrusting into you from a new angle. Grabbing the edge of the table with your hands, you looked into Xavier's eyes. In them you saw his darkest desires, his need for you. Each of his thrusts was accompanied by the creaking of the table. His gaze wandered lustily over your body, lingering on your bouncy breasts, which teased him with their appetizingness, decorated with crimson marks, went down to your waist, which also showed bruises from his hands, and finally, his gaze caught the small bulge at the bottom of your stomach , which appeared every time he penetrated you to the end.

— My princess, – he moaned, looking into your eyes again and squeezing your hips tighter. – I love you, I love you, I love you unconditionally.

Barely understanding what he was saying, you looked at him with a clouded look of pleasure, wanting to press into him again. Sobbing in pleasure, you reached out one of your hands to him, choking on scarlet moans.

— Please... I want... – whining, you once again pushed him on this table. – I need...

Releasing your hips without slowing his pace, he leaned into you, letting your hands grip his neck. Your lips met in a kiss again, exchanging saliva.

Your bodies were sticky with sweat, but that didn't stop Xavier from pounding into you faster and faster. You weren't worried about whether or not you'd be able to walk tomorrow, just like Xavier didn't doubt that he'd be carrying you in his arms all day. A wild desire took hold of your minds, causing your bodies to move in a frenzied rhythm of love.

Xavier drove his cock into you, wet with your juices, slapping his balls against your ass, met the obstacle in the form of the cervix and returned with a low growl to repeat the same actions. Slipping his hand between your heated bodies, he touched your clit. Almost crying with pleasure, you scratched his neck, shoulders and back, not knowing where to go. The air in your lungs was running out as fast as he was fucking your cunt. Your vision became blurry, everything was spinning and the only thing you felt was the near end.

Xavier's voice was whispering something in your ear, but it was hard to make out. Grabbing air with your mouth, you felt as if a little more, a few more thrusts and your body would collapse under his onslaught.

— Xavier, – you whined hoarsely under him, feeling extremely dizzy. – Nghh...

Your brain short-circuited and your body was covered by an explosion. Arching in the back, you squeezed your whole body. Clinging to Xavier with your limbs, you didn't give him a chance. Cursing in your ear, he tried to hold on, but your walls squeezed him too hard. He crashed into your thighs, plunging deep into you and finished with a loud moan, flooding you with hot cum. His hips gave a few thrusts as if he was trying to push as much of his family into you as possible.

Your body was shaking with orgasm, but your grip on Xavier slowly loosened. Soon, as your consciousness returned to reality, hot streams of tears flowed from your eyes.

Hearing your soft sobs, Xavier jerked up, still buried deep inside you. Confusion and excitement were reflected on his sweat-dampened face.

— Princess, – he asked in a husky voice and, clearing his throat, took your face in his hands. – Why are you crying? Are you hurt? What happened?

You looked up at him with a smile, feeling his fingers wipe the tears from your red cheeks. You couldn't answer now. Shaking your head negatively, you looked into his eyes. Panic and incomprehension grew in his gaze, which almost made you cry even harder.

Clenching his teeth, he pressed himself against your body, touching his lips to your shoulder.

— I'm here, – he whispered, feeling how you occasionally squeezed him in you. – I’ll always be with you.

— Xav...

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your feelings, and wrapped your weakened arms around his neck.

— Yes, princess? – he answered, pressing closer.

— So you weren't a virgin? – you whispered hoarsely, gently stroking his back.

He noticeably raised his head and looked into your eyes.

You thought I was... - his eyebrows went up in surprise. - Why?

— We just had sex for the first time... in our relationship.

— I've been saving this moment for a better time, because you deserve the best first time, – his voice was muffled and his breath burned your neck. – But you decided to rush this moment. 

He laughed and poked himself in your neck again. 

— Okay, but, – you stopped stroking him after a moment. – If you're not a virgin, and you said you had no one before me, then…

You felt Xavier relax against you. The table cracked under your weight and you groaned in indignation, but you couldn't stay angry with him for long. 

— Did you fall asleep? – you shook your head and hugged him tighter, deciding that five minutes wasn't that long. 

 When he wakes up, he will take you to bed and clean up the mess he had made. Just 5 minutes.

— I'll never let you go, – Xavier said in a sleepy voice. – It doesn't matter where you go, how far you will be, I will always find you.

— Pretender…

— No way…

[tmwcs]

the older sister SECRETLY !!! So sunghoon has 2 sisters and heeseung is dating the younger sister , but the more he hangs out with sunghoon and sees the older sister , the more they fall in love with each other . And that’s where the cheating starts ! IF THIS DOESN’T MAKE SENSE I CAN TEXT U PRIVATELY . If u do this for me I consider u as my sister 🥹😚💗

“I like her, but I love you…”

Warnings: College boy Heeseung cheating in secret, older fem. lead, smut....rough smut....kind of animalistic, craving, like 'oh-my, oh-my God! this c*ck's pumping crazy' smut. unprotected smut. 9k word count, so get your popcorn out.

Bday gift for @hoyeonheeseung

PS: H/N stands for “her name”. Left her name blank.

Thank you for taking the time and reading my stories and drabbles. To show your support, please consider donating into my ko-fi account ♥️

“Hey man, how are things going with you and h/n?”

“Good, she’s my little troublemaker.” Referring to his girlfriend and the younger sister of his best friend, Sunghoon, Heeseung chuckles as he dwells into the little tidbits concerning his established relationship.

“Yeah she can be a handful. But don't forget, she’s only eighteen, it’s not like she’s our age.” Sunghoon responds in jest, chuckling as he winks over to his friend.

“Yeah, I know. I keep that in mind all the time, which is probably why I let her get away with a lot, and am more patient with her than I should be.”

Nodding his head, Sunghoon pats Heeseung’s shoulder as the two walk over to their parked cars.

“So I was going to ask you, are you planning on coming by tomorrow?” Sunghoon asks. Raising a brow over from across his vehicle, Heeseung answers loosely. “Yeah, h/n says she wanted me to meet some of her friends from school, and they were all going to be over at your place. You guys having a party or something?” Tossing his books into the front passenger seat, Heeseung turns back towards Sunghoon.

“Yeah I figured she had already asked you to come by, her friends are all going to be at the house because, well, our eldest sister moved back to the area after accepting a new job. Guess she wanted to be closer to the family, so my parents are throwing a homecoming party for her.”

“That right?” Twirling his tongue, Heeseung had known Sunghoon since they started college, nearly four years ago. Being on their last year together, Heeseung furrowed his brow, slightly surprised. “I didn’t even know you guys had an older sister.”

“Oh yeah man, I probably forgot to mention her because she’s been living abroad. She left the year I started attending college, right before I met you. She normally calls in and emails us, but hasn’t visited because her job is so demanding. But she says this new job is going to give her a lot more free hour.”

“Huh, I was wondering why H/N mentioned that all of her friends would be over. Makes sense now. But yeah man, I’ll be there. I’ll probably take H/N to the movies or something after the festivities are done with.”

“Cool man. See you tomorrow then.”

“Yup, see ya.”

………………………

You woke up early the next morning to the soft light of the spring sun peeking through the bedroom window. Laid out on the side table was a list of residential neighborhoods and apartments nearby, some circled in black ink. You had moved in with your parents and siblings, only just for a period until you could establish your own place. For now, you took the opportunity to enjoy lost time with them. Getting dressed, you chose a simple yet elegant floral dress, that fitted your form nicely. The hem of the skirt tastefully flows inches above your kneecaps, while the tie straps gently rest on top your shoulders. Walking down the stairs, you meet with your mother inside the kitchen.

“Oh, hi mom.”

“Good morning y/n! Did you want some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Pouring you a cup, your mother sits down and enjoys the one-on-one moment with you, while you both sipped on your favorite latte’s. Turning your gaze over to the window, you spot your mother’s garden in full bloom. While you were away, she had planted your favorite flowers to remind herself of you during your absence.

“Oh mom, I really like what you did with your garden.”

“Thank you, baby.”

Chuckling, you giggle out your words as you playfully bite your lip, a small habit you’ve had for as long as you could remember. “You planted my favorite flowers?”

“Of course! I had to have something to remind me of you while you were gone for so long.” The tone of her words reflected her happiness in having you back home. Reaching across the table, you take her hand and reassured her that you wouldn’t be away from here on out.

“I promise, I'm here to stay mama.”

“I know. But you don’t have to rush, you can stay here with me, your dad, your brother and sister.”

Looking down at your cup, you gently sip while you speak. “I’ll stay for a bit, but you don't have to worry Mama. When I move out. I’ll limit myself to a 10-mile radius so I can be close to home. I promise.” Winking, you watch as your mother smiles sincerely at your resolve. You felt guilty for being away for so long, not to mention your career limited you from gaining the opportunity to travel and visit home. Now, things would be different. Sure, you had to take on a position that was slightly less pay than what you were making before, and you had a wonderful team that you left behind, but that all didn’t matter anymore. You had set your priorities firmly to put family first, and everything else following second. With your brother finishing up college, and your sister beginning her first year at the same university in the following months, you knew that your parents would have been too lonely, so you made your decision and submitted your two weeks’ notice to your boss three months ago, and had been enjoying the time missed ever since.  

“Oh, how did you sleep last night? I tried to get H/N to give you back your old room for just a few nights, but you know your sister…”

Chuckling, you bit your lip again as you playfully shook your mother’s hand. “It’s okay. The guest room was nice and quiet. Plus, I’ve always liked it up there.” After you had moved out, your sister took over your old room, which happened to be the second largest bedroom in the house, with your parent’s master suite being the biggest. The bedrooms all shared the same hall, but the guest bedroom was nestled away up on the third floor, originally as the attic.  However, your parents designed it to be formatted as a guest room for family visits and had kept it as such ever since.

**** photo of bedroom

When finding out that you were moving back home, your mother went through great lengths to fix up the guest space after H/N had initially begged, then later refused, to give back your old room. Yet you didn’t mind, the guest room was laid out with gaudy floral wallpaper but was actually, quite cozy, and nicely tucked away from the remaining bedrooms, which all were located on the first level. The second floor had a nice family room, along with a guest bath, additional office spaces that your father used as his private study, and a small sitting room. The way things were set, you felt like the little princess you always used to dream yourself as, locked away in your tower with all of your favorite books and a great view of your mother’s garden.

“Sis!”

 You turn your head over to the sliding door near the dining room and watch as H/N runs over and sits next to you. “Can I borrow that one dress you have? The red sexy one! Pleeeeease!” Bouncing in her seat, your sister eagerly begs as she taps her artistically extreme manicured nails on the table. Adorned in clusters of jewels and painted in neon colors, you took a moment to notice how lengthy the exaggerated pointed acrylics were.

“Yeah, sure.”

“EEEEEEEEEK! YAAAY! Thank you Y/n!” Hugging your neck and placing a quick peck on your cheek, h/n runs up the stairs, causing quite the clamor on her way up. You chuckled and smirked as you heard her run up, scurrying through your closet and dressers for that simple red dress you wore for work. It was a formal piece, one that you wore under a blazer whenever you went into the office, and it was a bit too sophisticated for a homecoming party, but you already knew that once your sister had her mind set on something, there was no changing it.

The visitors started to show up, collecting out in the backyard where all the decorations and food was nicely laid out. Your mother and her friends had displayed a massive spread of assorted dishes on a long picnic table. Sunghoon assisted with placing the decorations up, while H/N mingled with her friends. You were taking one last glance over the residential properties on the rental ad before placing it back down on your side table. You head down towards the kitchen, however, upon arriving on the second floor, you run into H/N and her group of friends as they walk up to catch you in the guest room. “Oh! Sis! Perfect timing!” H/N runs over to your side and links her arm with yours. “Guys, this is my sister y/n.”

“Wow….you’re so pretty.”

“Your hair is so long and shiny!”

“Gosh why is it that older girls are always the prettiest?”

“Its probably because they learn from each other’s makeup and hair styles in college.”

One by one, h/n’s friends all admire you while talking aloud, taking a moment to feel your hair, stare at your dress, and ask about your makeup tips. They displayed a look of shock when you exposed that you were wearing minimal products, keeping it simple with blush, lipstick, and some eyeshadow. You were always one to avoid heavy makeup, opting to keep things real and simplistic.

“Thats it?! That’s all you’re wearing? How are you so pretty with so little makeup?”

“I can’t wait to be older so I can be just as cool and sexy as you. I like that womanly confidence, my own older sister has that same vibe.”

Chuckling, you playfully side eye H/N as she proudly presents you to her posse. “See? I told you! My older sister is the prettiest!”

Skipping as she drags you along, H/N finally lets you go when you all reach the kitchen. “Sis, you coming out?” H/N screeches out. She was always so flamboyant and quite loud, more than likely due to the excitement she had in showing you off. “Come out so we can show you some of our cheers that we’ve been practicing!”

“Oh alright, gimme a second. I’m just going to grab some water and I’ll be right out.”

“Okay! Hurry up!” She shouts out and leaves. You had nearly forgotten that H/N was continuing her cheerleading curriculum, even in college, and planned on entering the cheer competitions. Pouring yourself a glass of water, you quietly gaze through the window and watch as the number of guests grew larger. Minutes past, and more people enter through the gate in the yard. A sudden scream of excitement is heard from afar outside, and you knew it was H/N and her friends. Shaking your head while you smirked, you sipped on your drink as you checked your phone on some work-related matters, before placing it down on the kitchen island and prepared yourself to walk out and greet the guests.

…….

“Oh my God Heeseung!!! You’re here!”

Running towards him, H/N jumps up as Heeseung catches her in his arms. Gripping onto his hair and overbearing him with kisses, Heeseung winces his eyes shut and gives it a moment before finally speaking out. “Okay, okay. I get it, I missed you too.” He chuckles as he lets her down.

“Come meet my friends! They’ve all been dying to meet you and oh my Gosh! Can we go to the mall later? I want to show you off to all my friends that are working at the stores today!” Jumping up and down, completely hyperactive as she holds onto his hand, H/N eagerly waits for Heeseung to answer. He couldn’t lie to himself, as much as he cared for her, her hyperactive personality could overwhelm him sometimes, much like her friends. It was nothing out of the ordinary, however, for him it wasn’t something he was quite used to, given that all of his other girlfriends were his age and in college. This was the first time he decided to dip into someone as young as H/N. At times, he felt he needed to break away whenever she had her moments where that teen spunk was over the top.

“We’ll see.” He answers.

“But whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? Please please please!” pulling on his arm, H/n expresses her pleas in a shrill and loud voice as she displays a puppy-eyed countenance, pouting her lip to exaggerate her desperation.

“Let’s just see how the day goes, h/n. Besides, after the day is done, I was planning on taking you to the movies.”

“Oh! The movies!!!” She jumps up with excitement while her mother gently shushes from the side. “H/n, shhh, quiet.” your mother whispers over secretly to H/N. “You’re making a scene.”

Huffing out, H/N shrugs off her mother’s warning before resuming her gaze back to Heeseung. “Can my friends come?” She asks excitingly.

“You don’t want to go together? Just the two of us?” He calmly winks over. “Oh my God!! Heeseung!!” She shouts out and giggles, stirring a commotion among the guests, which had caused Heeseung to immediately grow wide eyed and shoot a hand over her mouth, all out of sudden instinctive reaction.

Heeseung eventually met up with Sunghoon, and the two standoff at a distance enjoying a beer while H/N and her friends all swoon over the newest kpop group stepping into the scene of popularity. “Oh my God he’s hot as fuck!” H/n can be heard admiring aloud, once again earning a quick tap on her arm from your mom, gesturing her to be more polite and quiet. Never minding that Heeseung could hear, in h/n’s mind, it was okay for her to openly swoon so long as it wasn’t with someone that was realistically achievable, plus, she was a young girl with a lot of emotions and hormones that caused her to be overly expressive, as well as experiencing a change of heart nearly every day. One moment she was into one particular thing, the next she was into something entirely different. Zoning off as he watches the girls indulge into their typical gossip, Heeseung takes another sip out of his beverage before engaging in conversation with Sunghoon.

“So, how is your other sister holding up being back home?”

“She’s loving it. Which….where is she? She should be out here since this is her party.” Sunghoon looks around, yet the lack of your sighting caused him to reach out to your guy's mom for confirmation. “Mom, where is y/n?”

“Oh well she should be– oh! There she is.” Catching the sight of you walking out through the back sliding door, your mother’s sentence is cut short with the pleasant note of your appearance. “Y/N, over here!” she calmly shouts out your way, waving for you to come to her direction.

Walking calmly, you nod and say hello to everyone you walk past, flaring a sweet and soft smile as you greet them before reaching your mother.

“Oh hey, Y/N! Let me introduce you real quick before mom steals you away, this is my good friend, Heeseung. He and I had been friends since our first year together. He’s also h/n’s boyfriend.”

Surprised, you pleasantly smiled towards the young man and extended your hand to shake and greet him. You heard all about H/N’s boyfriend, especially since the latter couldn’t contain her excitement and talked of nothing else since the moment they started dating, sending you at least a handful of emails a day talking about him. It was just surprising since she never revealed him to be an older college male, nor did she mention that he was good friends with Sunghoon.

“Nice to meet you, I’ve heard alot about you from h/n. She’s really taken with you.” flashing a charming smile, you delicately shift the pieces of your hair framing your face and tuck it behind your ear as the gentle breeze blows through it. Unlike H/N, you opted to leave your hair un-styled, letting it fall freely in its natural state, which enhanced your features and placed you above all the girls Heeseung has ever laid eyes on, to include the girls at his college, and H/N.

“Yeah…nice to meet you.” Stunned by your natural and yet sophisticated sense of manners, your appeal had struck Heeseung out of his right-minded state and he found himself at a loss for words. Leaving his response short and simple, you nod and make your way over to your mother. Sunghoon went on about one thing or another, yet Heeseung paid no mind, he tried to keep it from being obvious, but it was hard. Fortunately no one really noticed. Keeping his face towards his best friend, his eyes kept shifting over your way, glancing periodically as he did his best to get an eye full of your image before reengaging with Sunghoon.

………………..

“So yeah, we were doing this in class the other day when….”

“Mmhmm…..”

“And then the dude literally started to get into this argument with my professor….”

“Oh yeah? …..”

“Right in front of the entire class.”

“Crazy man.”

Noting Heeseung’s spurt responses, Sunghoon pauses in his storytelling. “Heeseung, you good man?”

“Hm?...Oh yeah, no I'm good. You were saying? The guy argued with your professor and what now?”

“Oh. For a second I didn’t think you were listening.” Chuckling as he sips on his beer, Sunghoon continues, not catching on to Heeseung’s habitual habit of roaming his gaze over where you stood. Admiring the calm, mature, and graceful woman that you are, he was becoming smitten with you.

 It was strange, he thought that he’d seen every type of woman there was to see. The college girls at his university, or H/n and her friends, all of whom shared similarities, but carried minor differences in their character. Yet despite all that, they were nothing compared to the level of true feminine beauty that you held. All in all, when it came to the girls his age, they were all somewhat stuck up and believed that they had their lives completely figured out, but lacked the will to prioritize their days appropriately and spent more nights partying and sleeping around campus. Then there were girls like h/n, younger, filled with life but had no clue as to how to deal with it. Often living rather childishly and carrying no balance when it came to expressing themselves or developing their feminine nature. They didn’t have life figured out and it showed, and most times, they flared off exactly what they were, a bunch of teenage girls, nothing more.

Then there was you, a young woman in her prime that had already surpassed the stages of her teen years, and survived her college days, albeit you handled it gracefully since Sunghoon had already mentioned that you spent your entire time in college taking online courses, so you could stay home and help out your family. You ignored the typical college life of rotting away in a classroom, dealing with the pressures of your peers, and the late-night partying. Instead, you worked your way through during the day, diligently on your home computer, and then carried on your free time to assist with family matters. If that wasn’t already virtuous enough, you graduated with an excellent standing in your class and obtained a respectable career. You were nothing like the women and girls he’s been exposed to. The way you carried yourself confidently, gracefully, so smooth, elegant, and your pretty appeal had a sense of smoldering essence, which he found devastatingly sexy. What type of woman were you and where had you been all this time?

Throughout the entire event, Heeseung remained out of character and rather on the quiet side, which he claimed was all due to tiredness from late night studying, or so he lied when telling Sunghoon and h/n. By the end of the event, he lies once more and tells H/N that he had too much to drink to drive out to the movies or the mall, and opted to stay back with Sunghoon until the alcohol wears off before safely driving back home. H/N didn’t seem to be too upset about the ordeal, considering one of her friends had a license and a car of her own. Bidding Heeseung goodbye with a quick peck on the lips, h/n departs with her posse while Heeseung and Sunghoon assist with the cleanup.

“I’ll take this inside for you.” Taking the load of stacked plates, Heeseung effortlessly carries them away and heads towards the kitchen. “Oh thank you Heeseung.” Your mom gently responds back with.

Sunghoon helps out your dad with taking down the festive decorations and lighting, white your mother picks up the remaining trash. Placing the dishes in the sink, Heeseung turns on the faucet to lukewarm and begins filling it with warm soapy water. You walk in, inadvertently sneaking up behind, which was the most pleasant surprise for him, unbeknownst to you.

“Oh hey, you don’t have to do that, I can take care of those.” You gently speak out as you walk up to the sink. He turns his head and sees you enter the kitchen, gasping out of bewilderment. God, you were a sight for sore eyes. Where did you come from? Surely not the same way h/n and Sunghoon came into this world, you were far too ethereal in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s fine. I don't mind helping out, I do it often actually.” Knowing his way around the kitchen, he takes a sponge and starts to wash each dish. You stood next to him and grabbed a spare sponge and helped out. He was awfully tall, and despite being quiet, he seemed very nice, you could see why your family liked him. H/n had often talked about Heeseung spending a great deal of time over at your parents house, spending days after classes hanging out with her and Sunghoon,. With as much time he spent over, he was practically part of the family, it's no wonder he knew where everything in the kitchen was.

“Are you excited to be in your last year of college?” You asked calmly, making conversation as you scrubbed, and he rinsed. Displaying a wide and overly happy grin, he chuckles bashfully as he bites his lower lip. “Yeah, I am. I bet you were pretty happy when you finished.”

“Yeah, I was.” you nodded with a smile and a small giggle. “But I can’t lie, I do miss the days where all I had to focus on was being a diligent daughter and student. Being on your own and facing the world head on can be scary sometimes.” you softly state as you glanced over to him with a tender smile.

“Oh God don’t do that….don’t look at me with those beautiful shiny eyes…and that gorgeous smile of yours…..you’re making me melt…..and you don’t even know it.” 

Mentally noting the greatness of your appeal, Heeseung gently shrugged off the image of your face in order to avoid staring.

Spending the next thirty minutes washing the plates had to be the greatest highlight of his life. His heart felt as if it was going to explode, you were a bewilderment to him and he couldn’t get enough of the way you smiled, sound, and laughed. Your large dark eyes, that shiny black hair, and that damn olive complexion. God had spent extra time on you, perfecting his craft as he created the greatest gift to earth, you.

Over the timespan of weeks, Heeseung spent a great deal over at your parents’ home, which didn’t seem at all odd considering he was already coming over well before you had moved back home. Using Sunghoon and even H/n as an excuse for his visit, he relished the moments you came down to grace everyone with your presence. It was actually quite impressive how no one sensed or caught on in seeing how enamored he was with you. All those moments when he and h/n were watching Nextflix in the living room, snuggling in the corner end of the sectional couch with Sunghoon on the opposite end. You’d walk past through the hallway and enter the wide, open floor concept and head towards the kitchen when Sunghoon would gently invite you to join them.

…….

“Sis, what’re you doing? Have you watched this show? Come sit and watch it with us, it’s getting good.”

…….

Whenever you accepted the invite, and took a seat on the large couch, Heeseung took advantage of the lack of lighting, with only the TV being the source, and used it to hide the fact that he would stare and admire you during the entire show. With you facing the TV and paying attention to the plot, as did everyone else, no one ever could suspect that Heeseung was falling for you, hard. That obsessive and uncontrollable stare was something that only he knew about, and it made him yearn for you more as each day passed.

……………………

“Hey Heeseung, the company y/n works for is hosting a weeklong internship program. I know we don't have any plans to work for that corporation, but figured, why not take a week-long break away from campus and classes. You in?”

“Her company is hosting an internship for a week?”

“Yeah man. I asked her about it and even asked if she can pull some ropes and become our aid, show us around, pretty much just hang out. We can take that time to chill out.”

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’m in.”

He was in, alright, but for entirely different reasons. He could care less about taking a rest period away from campus and classes, he would spend his days in a grueling classroom for hours, wasting away, if it meant that he’d be with you.

It didn’t take much to get Heeseung and Sunghoon accepted, you pretty much had established a decent reputation within your company, so taking on the tasks of showing the two internees around, out and about, was something that was accepted without any hesitation. The first day, the two men showed up wearing proper attire of business-casual suits; you walked past the security after exiting the elevator, flaring your VIP pass. Greeting the two, Heeseung caught himself widening his eyes for the thousandth time when he saw you. You carried out your typical habit of wearing bare, minimum makeup, but this time your hair was nicely styled, and you wore an elegant haltered, collared button up midi-dress, paired with black stilettos. You not only looked professional, but sleek and powerful, much different from your carefree style you flaunted when lounging at home.

“My God…this woman is a queen…she’s classy, sexy, pretty, and smart….she’s just….she’s everything.” he thought.

“Hey, were you guys waiting for long?”

“Nah, we just got here. Pretty nice place you work at, sis.” Sunghoon comments as he winks in your direction, remarking the incredible building and strict security.

Giggling at your brother’s sense of humor, you playfully narrow your eyes at him. “Thanks.” chuckling, you tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, something that you constantly did since you always opted to keep your hair down, even when styled. The way you would delicately finger the strands behind the helix of your ear, revealing your pretty earrings, had Heeseung swore up and down that his heart was going to stop beating.

“Should I take you guys up and show you around?” you ask, to which both men nod in agreement. They had looked so suave and handsome, and you couldn’t help but admire, whenever he wasn’t looking, that Heeseung had a very dashing smile and looked very nice in a suit. You had to admit, there was something about the way he would chuckle or smile at you; you figured he had that same effect on everyone else, yet little did you know, his countenance was far more special whenever he was looking your way. You, the woman who was stirring a rumble of chaos in his heart, all out of love and infatuation. How was he ever going to get over you? How was he going to move on if he stayed with H/N? Knowing that you’re her sister. Or…worse….how was he going to live? If things didn't work out between him and H/N…knowing that he may never see you again. As shameful it was for him to admit, but never hating the fact, he was merely keeping his relationship with H/N alive for the sole purpose to keep in constant contact with you, and even…his friendship with Sunghoon. His relation to his best friend was still dear to him, but he found it hard to find any other reason to come by your parents home, other than to see you.

During the internship, you spent a great deal of time with Sunghoon and Heeseung, even after the event had ended, your bond with both Sunghoon and Heeseung continued to grow. Since H/N was in her own little world and spent much of her time with friends and hanging out after cheerleading practice, Heeseung found himself available to build a steadfast relationship with you.

Another week later, your bond started to become much closer…with Heeseung. With Sunghoon attending his classes, some of which he did share with Heeseung, others were separate, your younger brother had aspirations for a career that differed from his best friend, not to mention the presence of a young lady he had been frequenting with. Heeseung knew about her, and encouraged his friend to take the chance after the young woman had expressed interest in his dear friend. Sunghoon agrees and ever since, you had been seeing less of him around the house. But Heeseung remained, always dropping off H/N and spending some time with her at the house, normally watching movies or tv shows. However, when H/N became more engrossed with her friends and attending house parties thrown by people she knew, her presence became lacking. Heeseung never had any interest to attend events that were filled with younger teens, so of course, he would spend more time hanging out with you. In no time,  Heeseung and you had started to become close, and even had each other’s phone numbers.

You had sold your car before the move, and had the means to get a new one, yet when Heeseung frequently offered to give you rides and encouraged you to contact him whenever you needed transportation, it became a railroad that connected you two together. You had long forgotten about buying your own vehicle, it became routine for Heeseung to meet up with you, that he did it without you even texting him. He knew your schedule and would show up promptly to take you to work, pick you up, or stop at the store along the way home. During the weekends, whenever you felt like getting away, you would call him and invite him to a day of leisure, which he happily and always accepted. He was enjoying the amount of time he got to spend with you, it became the highlight of his time. Since meeting and forming a bond with you, there hadn't been a single bad day, even when classes were overbearingly long and going past schedule, his heart and mind was only filled with the image of your face and the sound of your voice. He couldn't wait to see you every day after his classes ended.

On a gloomy Saturday morning, you had the entire house to yourself. With your parents gone on a trip until Monday, H/N out on cheerleading camp, and Sunghoon taking his new lady friend out for the entire day on a date, you felt a bit lonely and bored. Taking your phone, you text Heeseung to see if he was up to go out to your favorite cafe. He was delighted and expressed he would be right over.

Pulling up to the driveway, Heeseung steps out and heads for the front door. Having been treated as an extending member of the family, he unlocks the door with the house key that once belonged to H/N, but her terrible habit in losing the previous spare copies had allotted your parents to encourage for her to give it to Heeseung to hold on to. Since he had always picked her  and her friends up after cheer practice, and dropped them off at home, it had made sense for him to keep hold of it, especially now with H/N away at camp. Entering the house, he calls out gently to make you aware that he arrived.

“Y/N, I’m here.” 

Hearing his voice from downstairs, you make your way over to greet him. “Hey, sorry for the wait, just going to grab my phone and wallet and we can go.”

He didn’t hear a single word you said. Only the sound of your voice and the image of your perfect visual was all he could process. You chose a flirty and tasteful summer dress, which had fit you so beautifully. It was without patterns, just a solid teal color that complimented your features greatly. Your hair swayed with every move you made, and he lost his complete train of thought as you shut of the lights. With the entire first floor darkened, the dim glare from upstairs peered in through the staircase. “Oh shoot, I must have left the light on in the guest room. I’ll be right back.”

“Kay…”

Walking back up the stairs, you enter the guest bedroom that featured all of your belongings nicely staged amidst the furnishings your parents had prepared. Walking over to the lamp, you glanced over to the window next to you and noticed how magnificent the moon had looked. It was bright and full, glowing in a range of orange and golden hues. Staring off into its glorified image, you thought of the last time you had seen the moon this beautiful. It was back when you were H/N’s age, and you were about to graduate high school, immediately preparing for college entry. Lost in a sense of nostalgia, you drifted so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear his footsteps going up the stairs, entering the attic, and walking up from behind. You didn’t hear his shallow breath as he breached closer, and like you, he continued to take in a sight of something dazzling, one that wasn’t pearly perched in the middle of the night sky, but was equally, if not, more beautiful.

Coming up from behind you, he calls to you. “You okay?”

“Hm? Oh…sorry. Yeah, I’m fine, I was just looking at the moon and it got me thinking for a second.”

“Yeah?...” Softly dashing a side smile, he looks out the window and peers at the moon for a moment, then looks back over to you. “What are you thinking about?”

“I just…I don’t know, I was just thinking about when I last saw the moon like this. I was h/n’s age.”

Biting down on his lip, his eyes shift down to your hips before as he takes one step closer. Looking back up at you, his gaze was more stern, hungry even, and intense. “Yeah?....Were you just as amazing back then as you are now?”

Shifting backward, your breathing becomes deep and shaky as you take in his rather fierce stare. He looked so ruthless, yet his tone was soft and gentle. “He-Heeseung….?” You spoke out nervously.

“Answer me…” he softly tells you, as he takes another step forward, and watches as you take one back. His aura and stance was intimidating, much different than his usual persona. He faintly tilts his head to the side and widens his eyes as he stares directly into you. “Tell me….y/n…..were you always as bright as the moon? And as warm as the sun? Were you always as gentle as the fluttered wings of a butterfly, and as swift as the summer breeze?”

He continues to take his steps forward, speaking in a near whisper. You kept the distance in between your bodies while taking your steps back, until you felt your shoulders meet with the wall. Lowering your hands and reaching behind, your palms contact the cool surface, and your fingers tap along the small threaded grooves of the wallpaper, desperately trying to find something…anything to get a grip or to get away from the tension…which was starting to make you cave in. “Heeseung….He-Heeseung….don’t….we….we can’t…”

“What?....”

“Just….please….” sensing the intense desire he yearned for you, his eyes become glazed with the lust of passion and hunger. “Can’t what, y/n?” he softly speaks out, now closing the distance and meeting you chest to chest. “Heeseung…please…” you whimpered out softly. His gaze was doing something to you, it was almost as if he was calling for you, and your body was responding against your wishes. There was something about the way he was whispering your name, thirsting for you with his hungry eyes, and pressing up on your body, trapping you against the wall. There was something about the way his whispered words were antagonizing you to bid a suitable answer, one that you could not think of, yet he kept asking you…

“Can’t what?....” Raising his hands, he places both palms on the wall to each side of your head. Leaning into your ear, he whispers your name. “Y/n….”

You turned your face away, winced your eyes shut and avoid any sort of both, physical and eye contact. His hard chest presses against your breasts, and his groin meets with your pelvis. “Heeseung…..sssstop…..this is wrong….”

“If it’s wrong then push me away….come on baby….push….me….like how you’ve been pushing me.”

Turning your face straight forward, you looked at him confused. He nearly glares at you as he speaks in a firm tone. “Yes….that’s right, I said ‘push me’. You’ve had no problems doing it all this time. Pushing me over the edge…pushing me out of reality….pushing me into a state of madness and hunger……pushing me to love you harder….”

Widening your eyes at what seemed to be his confession of love to you, you shift around and placed your hands on his chest, gently pushing him outward, yet you weren’t pushing hard enough. You were shocked. Was Heeseung really in love with you? But more importantly…were you just now realizing that you might be feeling the same about him? You shook your head, trying to come back to a rational sense and reminded yourself of h/n and her relationship with Heeseung. Keeping your hands on him, you push just slightly harder, yet he leans forward, causing your arms and hands to retract back.

“Push harder….” He whispers against your cheek.

“Heesung we can’t…..we can’t do this…”

“Then push harder…” grabbing onto your hand as it lays plastered on his chest, he strokes the back of your palm as he continues to whisper onto your skin. “Come on baby….push harder.”

The way his pursed lips grazed against your skin, and the way his voice sounded when he called you ‘baby’, it may have been weakness or desperation, maybe it was a little bit of both, either way, you stopped caring. You came to realize the truth behind the close bond you built with this man, and how you came to be so fond of him. How his smile always caused your heartbeat to escalate, and how his voice sounded whenever he said your name, causing your stomach to flip upside down. Once more, he whispers deeply, this time, it was against your lips, all the while he stared into your hazy eyes.

“Push it…..keep pushing it y/n……”

Whimpering, you falter. “I…..I…….”

“Yeah?...” his voices begin to peak.

“I……Heeseung…..”

Smothering his lips against yours, you melt in his sudden embrace. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, further going numb when you felt his arms grip around your waist and lifts you to deepen that hold he had on you. Softly moaning into your mouth, he deepens the kiss and feeds his tongue as deep as he possibly could. Running out of air, you both wait til the very last second upon reaching the pinnacle of lightheadedness, before faintly breaking the kiss. With his nose pressed against yours, he tightens his wrap and lifts you higher, causing you to close any remaining distance as you wrap your legs around his waist. Walking over to the bed, he gently lays you down on the plush bedding. Your arms fling up and over your head, with your hair gracefully spread all around. Reaching up, his hands smooth their way above your head and grab onto your hands, slowly intertwining your fingers together. From there, his kisses trail down to your chin, and to your throat. He smothers you with one kiss after another, before coming back up, just below the lobe of your ear. With your face peeled to the side, and your chest heaving upwards from the denseness of his weight on top, you arch your back and dip your hips low, craving for more of his touch. Whispering into your ear, he unleashes the depth of his braved confession.

“You have no idea….just how much I’ve been wanting you. How many days and nights went by where I thought about you…just you. There’s nothing in my life that I ever wanted more than what I have right before me….pretty girl you should be mine….only mine….and I should be yours.”

Fluttering your eyelids up, growing weak from your shaky breathing and the throbbing tingle that taps your core, there was no way you wanted him to stop, but the thought of h/n came to mind and you gave it your last shot to be mentally strong….despite your heart wanting him all for yourself.

“Hee—Heeseung…..but….what about….m-my sister…?”

Keeping his lips latched onto your neck, he whispers in response. “I like her….” propping himself up, he hooks on the hem of his t-shirt, slowly lifting it up and over his head, revealing his hardened muscles. Flinging it off to the side, he stares down at you with almost a cynical stare, one that was psychotic, but filled with love. “But I love you….”

Gasping at the sight before you, you moan and whimper as you reach up and reaffirm the hold around his neck, bringing him closer to you. Never have you felt such intense love from someone. You have dabbled into the dating life and had a couple of boyfriends since college, but nothing too serious. This….this was something far more crazy….intense….insane even…..but it was a love that you knew that was too good to deny.

Draping your hands down onto his biceps, you arch your back sharply, pressing your breasts against his chest upon feeling his hands traveling low. Swooping under your thighs, he lifts and guides them to wrap around his waist as he rolls the hem of your dress up and coils it around your waist. Hooking his fingers on your panties, he starts ripping them apart. So eager to have you, he couldn’t quite understand anything other than satisfying the hunger he had been feeling since meeting you. He became a beast, a ravishing monster that needed to be tamed, and the only one that could do it, was you. You gasped upon feeling the tugging of him ripping the fabric of your underwear apart, yet were quieted down when he faintly breaks the kiss and places a single finger atop of your lips. “Its okay…..baby, I’m not going to hurt you….I’m just going to feed on you….” Resuming the kiss, he twirls his tongue inside, ever so lovingly. You feel his hands tug on the straps of your dress and pulls them loosely over your shoulders and exposes your breasts to the warmth of his chest as he cradles you in a sweet embrace. Your thighs begin to shake as you rub your fingers up and down his biceps, and moan into his mouth.

Locking your lips in, he delivers a single, sharp buck from his hip, hitting you semi-hard in between your legs. Yelping out of intense pleasure, you release a trailing moan into his mouth as he prevents you from breaking the kiss entirely. Sensing your nerves calming, he delivers another hit from his hip, this time grinding the clothed bulge into your core. You gasp for air upon feeling the mixture of pleasure and friction, causing you to become delirious and lost in the heat of passion. Smirking into your mouth, knowing full well that he was getting you weaker by the second, he delivers a series of repeated dry thrusts that gets you yelling out a trail of gasping moans.

“Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!”

“Yeah?…yeah? Come on baby….” Clenching his jaw, his thrusts become harder. “Show me how pretty you look, as MY girl...my pretty woman..”

You nearly lose your voice as you continue to moan slurred words and incomplete sentences, all starting off with his name. Propelling his weight off, he unbuckles his belt, and removes his jeans. His nude body now fully connects as you remain mostly bare, with only your flirty dress rolled around your waist, leaving you exposed beneath the tatters and loose ends of the fabric. Kneeling between your legs, he remains propped up high and mighty, leaving you merciless beneath his glaring smirk. Taking you by the waist, he drags you closer, and grinds into you as he takes his shaft and strokes it in between your plush folds. Watching as the skin surrounding your slit caresses his shaft, he triggers your body to secrete the hint of slick moisture, gently glazing his member. Chuckling while admitting a dashing smirk, he looks into your eyes directly, giving a harsh and relentless stare. He didn’t look as soft and gentle as he had all this time since you’ve known him. His eyes were much sharper, defined, and narrowed, and he had a dashing yet devious smirk that was much different than the traditionally handsome one he flares off. It was as if he was taken over by something, a hunger that manifested out of the great desire and love he had developed for you, almost immediately after seeing you for the first time. Was it love at first sight? Or were you just everything he had always dreamed of, yet thought too good to be true to exist? Either way, the moment was here, where he finally had you in his arms. Even he, himself, doesn’t know what exactly was coming over him, but that remained irrelevant as he gazed on the magnificent view beneath him. The suppleness of your skin on your breasts, the smoothness of your legs, and the loveliness of your delicate slit, which he could not wait to plunge in.

Licking his lip, his lids grow heavy and for a moment, you somewhat came back to your senses, but it was too late. With his hand firmly gripping your waist, he takes the base of his shaft and slowly begins to enter. You grab onto his hand immediately upon feeling the bulge pushing past your enclosed cavity. Your body hitches up and forward, reacting to the sting of his rather large and lengthy muscle, only for him to drag you back towards him.

“Ah! Wait…..I….” your breaths transition into raging pants from the immense pressure. It had been too long, and you had forgotten that unique and painful sensation of your walls breaching, but with Heeseung, it was ten times more blistering given his thick girth and exaggerated length.

“Shh….its okay baby….I’m right here. I’m going to make you feel good…”

Feeling each inch sliding in, your thighs start to shake, and your pelvis grows numb. The beat of pain starts to disappear and after a few seconds, all you feel is the pressure of your walls separating. Deep inside lays your soft and tender spot, and after looking at seeing how largely endowed he was, he reaches it, as you expected. Your chest deeply heaves and your back arches even more, expanding the volume of your moans to beat off the walls. Your body rolls and curls, causing your hips to surf up and down, gently tapping against his groin and letting him know that you were wanting more. So more much. Your hands move up but could only reach his naval region as he remained on his kneeling position, while you laid restlessly taking in the plunge. Your fingers delicately drag down and tap against his skin, shakily. He lets out another deep chuckle.

“Heh heh…you ready for me?” Trailing his hand across your chest, he firmly takes hold on the side of your neck. Answering him, you nod eagerly, but nervously. Smiling while breathing out unsteady exhales, amidst feeling the pressures of your tight walls hugging his cock, he releases a shaky chuckle. “My woman…”

Thrusting in the remaining bit of his shaft, he pelts himself all the way in. Your eyes jolt wide with a look of pain and slight fear as you gasp out a yelping moan.

“Oh fuck….keep looking at me like that….you’re so……fuck….” He gasps out as he picks up the pace and thrusts harder and deeper. Faster and faster, he expands the horizon of his sight as he views your facial expression, the movement of your breasts bouncing at high velocity, and how his cock was violating your womanhood. Just as much he was enjoying it, so were you. Seeing how monstrous he was in fucking you, had only thrilled you. The level of intimidation of his manhood and abrasiveness, all accompanying his will to please you, and himself, became the best feeling in the world that you could ever experience. Shifting your grip, you grab onto the blankets to each side of your face and moaned out every inch of ecstasy that he gave. Beating it into you, his cock throbs and pulsates, causing him to fuck you even faster and deeper. This man, your younger sister’s boyfriend, was giving it to you so good, you didn’t want it to end. At that moment, you didn’t care about the outcome of all this, it felt too good to give it up, the more he plunged in, the more you screamed out his name. He went on, and on, and on.

“Ugh! He-Heeseung!”

“Fuck…..” With his hand still maintaining a side grip on your neck, his thumb swipes up and down the center of your throat as he continues his merciless thrusts. “Oh fuck…fuck fuck fuck…..” he gasped out in whispering groans. “You’re so fucking perfect….I could fuck you forever……”

Going in even faster and harder, your body becomes a blur of your tone and complexion as it succumbs to his aggressive thrusting, causing you to bounce relentlessly up and down against the bedspread. Your head pins down on the pillow as he keeps you steady with his hold, using it as leverage to bring you in each time he thrusts back inside.

“Oh my God…!!” You gasp out in a smoldering tone, causing him to twitch inside as he heard the pleasures within your voice. The moment you felt the knot snap, you had the entire penetrating area soaked as you continuously gush out the pleasures of your orgasm. Watching as his cock glistens in between his thrusts, he growls out your name. His hand twitches its grip, and you feel his fingers faintly digging into your skin. Shifting his hold, his hand moves upwards, caressing your cheek, while his thumb swipes over your lips as you catch your breath. Releasing his essence, he remains buried inside and pumps every ounce of his hard labor inside of you. Sliding out, he exits out of your cavity, leading out a trail of his cum to not only seep and pool inside your walls, but to also decorate the exterior of your sex as he spills his seeds on your clit.

Leaning into a crawling stance above your tired and weakened form, he trails the tip of his nose along your throat and up to your chin. Embracing you in a passionate kiss, he rests his body next to you and pulls you in to a tight hug, leaving small kisses along your helix while he simultaneously tucks your hair behind it. Caressing your face with his fingers, he continues to show every ounce of his love, even after displaying his vigored performance in filling you with it. After catching your breaths, you broke the ice, even though you were enjoying the soft silence.

“….What happens now?....”

Heeseung remained aloof. He knew what he wanted, and nothing, even your eighteen-year-old sister, wasn’t going to keep him from keeping you. Hugging you tightly, whispers as he buries his face into your hair.

“What’s going to happen….is you continue to be mine, and leave everything else to me. I’ll deal with H/N. Just stay here and be mine…and only mine.”

You turn your face half way to flare your side profile at him. “Promise you’re going to be nice and go easy on her?”

“Why wouldn’t I be nice? I’ll be as nice as I can about it, and to her. But I’m always going to be nicer to you.” Leaning into your ear once more, he whispers. “Because I may like your sister….but I love you.”

Enjoyed this piece? Show love and treat your girl to a cup of coffee. ♥️ 

☕ Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/reinbow

[freakcliff]

iwtv fanfic Friday: devils minion era (or close enough)

on display by thisisthefamilybuisness aka @officialclaricestarling; E, 3k.

Armand leans back in her chair and smirks. “There’s nobody here to notice if you absolutely must rut yourself against the seam of your slacks, Daniel; this is a private dining room. Given the sorry state of your thoughts, though, perhaps you’d prefer if I took a seat at the bar and sat you in my lap instead. It would only be fair, of course, every patron deserves a chance to see why I spend millions of dollars and so much of my time indulging you.”

i know a place we can go luminoussbeings aka @gaysie; M, 3k.

“—come out with me,” Daniel’s saying, and Armand blinks. “I know a place—better than this one, I’m telling you. Okay, fine, the drinks are terrible, but if you want to go out dancing—you’ll see. You’ll love it. Guarantee ya.” He smiles winningly, holds out his hand. No, Armand thinks. or: Daniel sees Armand with blood on his face from a kill, thinks he's just some poor abused twink, and decides he needs to show him a good time

cranefucker island circa ‘82 by katplanet; E, 22k

“You doing all right?” Daniel asks him. Armand blinks. “No,” he says. “Most honest you've been with me since I got here,” Daniel says. And then, because it seems like the thing to do, “I can clear out, if you need the place to yourself.” “Whatever you prefer.” Armand's lips look chapped. Dehydration? He ate the kid with the sunglasses, but the smear he left took a lot of bleach to scrub away. Maybe Daniel should - “You won't be harmed,” Armand says, “regardless of your decision.” “You got served divorce papers so hard it left a crater,” Daniel says, “and you're still poking around in people's heads.”

little kidnaps in the dark | End OTW Racism by gaypiratedivorce; M, 150k

The first memory is only the first memory, the first crack —after the dam finally breaks, Daniel tries to make sense of the past unraveling itself in his mind. While continuing to thread the story of Louis's life, he attempts to untangle the questions of his own. But Armand offers no answers, and Louis gives him no straightforward ones. As their histories weave together and the line between journalism and personal chronicle disappears from sight, Daniel struggles to figure out who they were then, what they've become, and why exactly he's been summoned to Dubai.

it's a rollercoaster kinda rush by exastris_scientia aka @keepoffthetardis; E, 5k

He writes more over the next three months than he has in the last year, and he even gets paid for some of it. Not as much as before, but, y’know. He can keep his apartment, so it’s not like he’s complaining. He goes to bed early, gets up late, and actually learns how to cook something edible for once in his life. He’s not even using. It’s normal. It sucks so bad and he’s so fucking lonely. Daniel gets fired from the San Francisco Chronicle and discovers all roads lead not to Rome, but to Armand.

couldn't trust myself to proceed with caution by extrasis_scientia aka @keepoffthetardis; E, 6k.

When he opens the door, Daniel looks up from his drink. Almost every feature on his face has been changed by the twenty years between them and their last goodbye. Every one, that is, except for his eyes. They’re shielded by handsome-looking wire-frame glasses now, but they’re still as blue and sharp as they were the night they met. Their eyes lock, and Armand is astonished to discover all at once that he’s still angry. “You must be Mr. Molloy,” he manages through lips nearly numb. As if he feels nothing at all, Daniel holds out a hand. “Mr. Molloy’s my father. Call me Daniel.” Armand seeks Daniel out in 2003 and gets quite a bit more than he bargained for.

[jx3-xd]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Vox x Reader, where Vox accidentally broadcasts a private, heartfelt message he intended only for you across Hell's airwaves. Embarrassed but touched, you find a way to reassure him and reciprocate his feelings publicly?

A/N: Yessss!!! Ofc! I feel like I actually did pretty good w this one ngl

Vox x Reader: Public Broadcast

Word Count: 840

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Vox was in his recording studio, alone oddly enough. When he had entered the room, his crew had asked to join him to help with recording, but he denied it and said it was something important and classified. Vox sat down in his chair, no paper in front of him to read, nothing on the teleprompter, no people behind the aux, no one and nothing besides Vox and the chilling air in the studio.

Vox pulled out his camera and turned it on, clearing his voice as he took a deep breath. He went over what he wanted to say in his head for a second, before shaking his head. ‘All I need to do is say what comes to my head, no pre-planned speech for them, just words straight from my head.’ He took another deep breath and clicked the button to begin the broadcast.

All over the pride ring people began to receive an ominous broadcast from Vox. Everyone listened in…everyone besides poor Y/N who didn't get the message. “Hey darling,” He started, thinking he had the camera prompted to broadcast only for his beloved. “I love you so much, ya know? I love you to Earth and back- better yet, to heaven and back- no no, I love you to infinity and beyond! You're so cute and adorable and I love everything about you. I love your cute eyes, I love your soft, cherry blossom pink lips, I love your death glares and your soft glances, I love your blush and I love all of your beautiful face. And oh my Lucifer, don't get me started on your moans in bed.” He rolls his head back and smirks.

All of hell is confused but also amused, most laughing at their screens ecstatically. Y/N was confused and looked over someone's shoulder to see what they were dying laughing at. They blush madly when they see their boyfriend making comments about how good they treat him in bed, how good their lips and tongue work their magic on his dick, how good their pussy tastes…he goes on and on and into more and more detail. Y/N was almost about to have a nosebleed and faint before they made themselves look away and put in an earbud and called Vox.

Still broadcasting, Vox picked up the call and saw it was from Y/N, confused as he turned off the stream and walked away.

“Hey mamacita, did you like the broadcast?” He says in a flirty tone. “B-babe- that went to all of Hell except for me-” Vox pauses and his screen begins to overheat. “Babe don't overheat just make sure the broadcast is off and I'm on my way-”

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ (imma start using kitties during the stories for time skips :D)

Vox was sitting on the floor when Y/N came inside his studio, curled up on the cold, tile floor and on the verge of overheating. They sat by him and made him look at them. “Hey, love, thank you for the broadcast. I saw some of it and you made my day, even though I was blushing so much, but it's alright that you accidentally broadcasted it to all of the pride ring.” “N-no it's not, I just made the biggest fool of myself ever…” Vox said, looking away. They made him face them and kissed him, pulling his screen close (look it's hard to make love to a TV-). They pull away after a second, a trail of saliva still between them both. “Vox, everything will be alright, okay love?” Vox nods, smiling a bit.

Y/N suddenly got an idea. “How about I go live showing everyone how much I just adore you, hm?” Vox perks up at the idea, smiling a bit. “Mhm!- i-i mean yeah, only if I can show them who you belong to my darling.” He says as he tries to stay confident and dominant. They giggle at his enthusiasm and how he tries to hide it for his ego. They both stand up and dust themselves off before going over to Vox's news chair.

All across Hell there was another odd stream that day, but not Vox rambling on about his lover, no no. This time, Y/N, his lover, leaned back in his chair, shirt stripped off and Vox on top of them. Vox bit and licked and sucked all over Y/N’s chest and neck and arms. He claimed them as his over and over and over, whispering sweet nothings to them in their ear while straddling their hips, grinding on their crotch slowly underneath the table. Y/N was steadily saying praises about Vox, about how he was such a good daddy and how he hit all the right spots over and over to the camera, eyes closed and face flushed. Vox finished up the broadcast by making out with you before cutting off the stream as he took you back to his penthouse and fucked you for a long while all over the penthouse.

“You're all mine, beautiful~”

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[plussizefantasia]

CozyTober Day 4: The Smell of Smoke in the Air

Eliot Spencer x reader

wc: 2.7k (this sprinted away from me)

warnings: minor discussion of dv, drinking alcohol

a/n: Eliot is one of those characters that I have to write stories for myself because there isn't very many people who do. So to all the people who love him like me: here ya go! Please Reblog if you enjoyed this so more people can see it too! See you all later for Day 5!

One week… Nate had given the team one week to recoup and recollect after our latest con went sideways.  The grumpy bastard shoos you all out of the brewpub and tells you not to come back for a week or he’ll sick Sophie on you. Hardison and Parker don’t seem to have a problem with it, they jaunt out of the doors, tossing ideas of what to do between them all the while. You distinctly hear Parker mention something about a new vent installation at a museum whose name you can't pronounce. You shake your head but smile. It's nice, that Alec and Parker have each other, someone to share the troubles of this kind of life with. 

“So what you gonna do with your week?” Eliot sidles up next to you, hands you a mug, and joins you in looking out the window into the rain that seems perpetual here.

“Not sure” you shrug, “maybe skip town, visit one of my other apartments?” you shrug and take a sip, chai with a dash of vanilla and cream exactly the way you make it. You’d probably spend the week in Seattle, and check in on your building. You paid for it under a fake name that Hardison was kind enough to put together for you. The penthouse held some of you stuff, decorated and ready to go just in case, and the rest of the building was down-low housing for women who needed it. You had set it up when the team was splitsville after the David job. You suddenly had more money than you knew what to do with and wanted to put some more good into the world. 

“Sounds like a good time.” Eliot sips from his own mug. “Want company?” 

His question is masked with a heavy nonchalance but you know Eliot, better than the rest of the team and maybe even better than himself. You clock the way his eyes dart to the ground and he licks the corner of his mouth. He’s nervous, but trying not to show it.

Silly man, doesn’t he know that spending time with him is all you ever want to do? Doesn’t he know that he’s the reason you stuck around? Sure, working with a man like Nate Ford, and doing good was reason enough, but Eliot- Eliot is who you’d follow to the ends of the earth, Nate Ford be damned. 

“Why not?” You shrug and flash a smirk at him. “We‘ll leave in two hours, I have a pilot who owes me a favor. Unless a private plane is too rich for your blood.” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Two hours, see you then.” Eliot winks at you and downs what is left in his mug. He turns and walks away, pushing past the doors and into the brewpub kitchen. 

You let out a sharp breath and smile privately. You shake your head and pull out your phone, you have a call to make.

“Frankie, it’s me. I’m calling in that favor you owe me.”

____ 

Two hours later you are waiting at the runway, a packed duffle on the ground by your feet. You tap your phone against your palm and scan the entrances looking for Eliot. You had texted him the address half an hour ago and he had responded with “;)” which could mean literally anything and you kinda want to hit him for not using actual words. 

Frankie descends from the plane and nods to you, “Ready to go?” he asks, reaching down to grab your duffle. 

“Patience is a virtue, Morales.” You bit your lip and continue looking around for any sign of Eliot. 

You don’t have to wait much longer, the sound of Eliot’s boots hitting the asphalt perks your ears. He is sporting a dark pair of jeans, a red henley, and his leather jacket. His hair pushed back buy the pair of aviators sitting atop his head. He also has a duffle bag, dark brown leather with silver hardware. You can tell that it’s well-loved, how many places has that bag been?

“Not planning on leaving without me were you sweetheart?” Eliot flashes you a disarming smile and comes to a stop in front of you.

“You’re late.” You shoot back.

“Couldn’t find parking.” He shrugs and moves towards the door of the plane, taking the steps two at a time. He peeks his head out from the door and looks down at you, still standing on the runway. “You coming?” He asks.

The plane ride is nice, the two of you talk for some of the six-hour flight. You sleep for a little bit of it, Eliot reads a leatherbound book that you can’t read the name of. It’s peaceful, which isn’t usually the case when it comes to the time you two get to spend together. 

Eventually, you land in Seattle and disembark. Frankie passes you keys as you get off the plane. “This makes us even right?” You nod at him and respond, “Yeah, we’re even. At least until the next time I need to save your ass.” 

He laughs and claps you on the back, radioing to the tower for a refueling tankard so he can head back home. 

You and Eliot walk side by side through the airport, easily locating the Jeep Frankie had arranged for you in the lot. It’s a nice forest green and looks brand new, you’ll have to ask him where he found it. 

“Hop in, it’s another forty-five minutes into the city.” You climb into the driver’s seat and toss your bag in the back.

The car ride is similar to the plane. Talking with Eliot is easy, he embraces low-stakes conversation just as well as he listens to the tougher stuff. 

Eventually, you get into the city and a few minutes later you are pulling into a street lot next to your building. It’s nondescript, blending in easily with the buildings around it. You grab your duffle and Eliot does the same, making your way to the front stoop. You press the buzzer button next to the door and wait a moment before the light flashes green and the e-lock on the door disengages.

Eliot raises an eyebrow at the level of security but you just shake your head at him. “I’ll tell you later.” You mouth. He nods and steps out of the wetness that was Seattle’s downtown and into the space. 

The lobby is sparse and painted a muted grey but it isn’t clinical in a way that neutral spaces can sometimes be. There’s a certain warmth that emanates throughout the whole space. 

You nod your head at the blonde woman sitting behind the desk sitting in the corner.

“Hey Marcy, how are things going?” 

“Good! We’ve moved out three girls and moved in two more.”

“Sounds like a busy month, are you taking time for yourself?” You ask her.

“‘Course I am, in fact, Tommy will be by soon to pick me up so we can go see that new spooky movie in theaters.” 

“Good, well we won’t hold you. Have a good night Marce.”

“You too ma’am.”

You visibly grimace. “I’ve told you to use my name every time you’ve called me ma’am since we met Marcy.”

“You’re my boss, ma’am.” You can see her trying to hide a smile and just laugh lightly before making your way towards the elevator.

“One day Marcy, one day you will use my actual name.” 

Eliot just stands back and takes in the banter, he doesn’t really know how to feel at the moment. You have a whole different life here, with people he doesn’t know and apparently, you’re a boss? What else doesn’t he know about you? He’s excited at the prospect of figuring that out.

“Eliot, are you coming?” You ask him, hand out holding open the elevator doors. 

That spurs him into action and he sends a polite nod to Marcy’s way before following you into the smaller space. 

The ride up is short, only eight floors before you reach the top floor, your floor.

The space is decorated exactly to your taste, this is your favorite place to lay low and he can tell. The space screams you and he can’t wait to spend a week with you here. He’s been trying for literal years to bridge the gap between friends and coworkers to something more but there has always been something in the way. First, it was his own hangups about his past, then it was Moreau. Then the team was under attack, then, then, then. But now... Now was his chance and he would not waste it. 

“I imagine you have questions.” You split the silence, offering him a tumbler of amber liquid.

“A few, what is this place?”

“This place as in my apartment, or this place as in the whole building?”

“Yes.” He takes a sip of the whiskey. It’s deep and oaky, smooth. The way he likes it.

“Well, after Dubenich tried to blow us up I figured I could use a place off the record that I could lay low in if push comes to shove. My share of that job was a lot bigger than I thought it would be so I started looking around. I’ve got places like that all over the globe, five I think. This building though, it’s the only one I have like it.” You make your way to the large couch in the center of the space, it looks both chic and comfy at the same time, and when he sits he’s surprised by the softness. 

“I bought the whole building, it was easier paperwork-wise that way, but I didn’t need the other twenty-four apartments so I started a shelter. I hired Marcy, who has actual experience in that kind of thing, and asked her how much money she would need to keep this place running and stocked. She gave me a number, I added a zero to the end of it and gave her an expense account. I have more money than I know what to do with, but Marcy does, so…” You shrug and take a sip of your own drink.

“Thats … amazing.” Eliot breathes into the space. “You’re amazing.” He says a little louder. “Not many people in your situation would do the same thing.” 

“I’ve done some pretty shitty stuff El. I guess… This is my way of trying to put more good into the world than bad. Like, evening out the scales of karma or something like that.”

“Yeah,” He whispers, “I know what that's like.”

“I know you do, who do you think gave me the idea?” You look at him.

Eliot places his empty glass down on a coaster sitting on the edge of your side table and grabs your own out of your hand, putting in right next to his. He holds your hand in his own. The roughness of his skin brushes nicely against your own. Your eyes track from the point of contact, up his arms, and into his eyes. He’s already staring at you, deeply looking into your own eyes as soon as they make contact. 

“I didn’t think that I deserved nice things. I had done unspeakable things to innocent people. Guys like me don’t get happy endings. Then, you crashed into my life with your soft edges and your witty jokes, and your awful taste in music. You made me want nice things. You made me…” he trailes off.

“Made you what, Eliot?” You search his face for the answers you want.

“You made me hope.” He whispers into the air. 

A smile spreads across your face, soft and filled with all the love you have in your heart for the man in front of you. 

“Good.” You laugh, pulling Eliot’s face into your hand and placing a single delicate kiss on the corner of his lips.

You pull back, only inches away, and scan his face once more. You clock the small scars that paint his face. Places where skin had split and healed and split again. Your eyes trace the curve of his brow, the plushness of his lips, and the shadow of stubble trailing his jawline. Most noticeably though, you watch a flush run up his neck and fill his cheeks. 

Your smile widens. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush before,” you tell him.

“I haven’t.” He laughs.

“I like it.” You kiss the other corner of his lips softly, waiting and wanting for the flush to grow a deeper shade of red.

That second kiss though, spurs Eliot into action, and from one second to the next you are in his lap, as he ravishs your lips. He’s forceful and gentle at the same time, pulling all kinds of feelings from your heart and noises from your throat.

The sun sets.

The sun rises. 

Sometime in between you fall asleep on your couch, you laying between his legs with your head resting on the left side of his chest. His arms wrap loosely around you and his hair forms a halo around his head. 

Somehow you wake before him and manage to slip out of his hold, replacing your body with a pillow in his arms when he begins to stir.

You stand over him for a minute grinning like an idiot at the sight of his chest peeking out between the open buttons of his knit shirt. God, you could get used to waking up to a sight like this. 

You decide with a quick scan of the pantry and fridge that you’ll make pancakes for breakfast, you have a box mix a bottle of oil, and a single unopened bag of chocolate chips. 

You practically dance around your kitchen, mixing the batter, heating a pan, and spooning out enough for the first couple of pancakes. 

—

Eliot wakes up when the sun streams in from the window and casts over his eyes. He takes in his surroundings and smiles his own goofy smile when he remembers what happened the night before. 

Surprising even himself, he recalls more of the conversation between the two of you than anything else that had transpired. You have more in common than he realized, this both soothes his heart and makes it ache at the same time. What had you gone through before meeting the team? What had you done that made you seek your own form of redemption? How could he ease those burdens for you? Could he ease them at all?

He’s brought out his musing by the wafting smell of smoke followed by the loud chirping of the smoke detector. He jumps up from his spot on the couch and follows the smell to the kitchen where his eyes land on you. You’re standing in front of a pan of what he assumes was supposed to be pancakes except they’re charred and stuck to the bottom of the pan.

He swoops in and takes the pan from your hands, kissing you on the cheek as he brushes past you and towards the sink.

“What were you planning to make for breakfast, rocks?” he teases you and chuckles at the pout that spreads across your lips.

“They were supposed to be pancakes.” You glare at him. 

“Sit,” he points at the stools sitting on the other side of your island. “I’ll take over.”

You obey, though not without rolling your eyes. Eliot’ll make better pancakes than you could anyway so it isn’t too much of a loss. Your pride is a small price to pay for amazing food.

You watch him move around the space like he owns it. And you start to think, not for the first time how amazing it would be to have Eliot in your space like this all the time. 

You’re going to enjoy this week. You make a mental note to thank Nate Ford again, then think better of it. He doesn’t need anything else to inflate his ego.

[demonvibez]

The Book Club

Characters: Satan x F! Reader ( x Asmo ) Rating: Mature [Minors DNI] Word Count: 2.5k+ Tags: smut, public sex, unprotected sex, cock warming, exhibitionism/voyeurism, masturbation, oral sex, threesome, cum in mouth + vagina, female body parts, they/them pronouns for reader, mam and levi are briefly in the story but are not involved in this smut (sry loves) A/N: just an idea that popped into my head and took off! also! highly recommmend the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde. I haven't read it in forever so I'm gonna give it a reread, but you should check it out if you can. Anyways, pls enjoy ♡

It wasn't unusual for you and Satan to hang out in the House library and read together. Whether it was for educational purposes, or simply recreational, the two of you loved being in the library. So much so that, if his brothers needed to find one of you, they would often only need look in the there. Typically the two of you took to Satan's bedroom for your more intimate affairs, keeping your sexual adventures together private. This evening, however, you had something else in mind.

There you both sit on the plush purple couch, the fire roaring in front of you two. You sit perched in Satan's lap as he has one arm around your waist, the other hand holding his copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray for you to read aloud. A soft, fuzzy blanket is draped across the two of you, concealing the fact that Satan's throbbing cock is fully sheathed inside of your tight, wet pussy. The two of you wanted to relax while you read, and nothing is more relaxing to Satan than having his cock warmed by you while reading a nice book. Cuddling with you in his lap while your warmth squeezes around him, the fire crackling in the background with the gentle melody of your voice reading to him - Satan has never been to the Celestial Realm, but he'd be willing to argue that this is better. As you shift slightly in his lap to flip the page forward, Satan can't help but to let out a tiny groan, his cock twitching inside of you. You feel so good wrapped around him, it took every ounce of self restraint not to just throw the book down and fuck into you right now.

"Careful, kitten," he whispers in your ear, "if we get too heated, we may have to-" Just as Satan was finishing his sentence, the library doors burst open. In through the door Mammon comes rushing, already arguing with Leviathan and Asmodeus who are walking in behind him. Asmodeus is wearing an annoyed expression, clearly in disagreement with Mammon, while Leviathan seems barely interested and is playing his handheld console. You could feel Satan tense up beneath you - his lime green finger tips digging into your hip, his expression stoic and expressionless. You knew Satan well enough to know that this was the calm before the storm.

"Oi, human! I've been lookin' for ya! Settle this argument we're havin'," Mammon shouts as he approaches the two of you.

"Seriously, Mammon? You really think they're gonna approve of such a stupid scheme? You're such an idiot," says Asmodeus, rolling his eyes as he stands next to Mammon with a hand on his hip. Leviathan leans against one of the study tables, his eyes still focused on his game.

"Yeah, Mammon. They're not gonna tell you anything different from us," he says without looking up. Mammon has a betrayed look on his face, turning to plead his case to you. Before Mammon can even begin to explain, Satan interjects.

"Not even a single fucking word Mammon, the answer is no."

"LOL!"

"But ya didn't even-"

"I said no, Mammon. We don't want to fucking hear it. I've known you my entire life. I know the kinds of schemes you concoct, I know that you want to drag my human into it and ultimately leave them with the mess. I don't care what it is - the answer is NO." You could feel Satan's wrath building up from his side of the pact. The two of you were supposed to be having a nice, relaxing, intimate evening, and the last thing you wanted was for Satan to fly into a fit of rage. The situation needed to be diffused before it reached a flashing point, and there was no one better in all three realms to soothe the situation than you. You squeeze your walls around him, reminding him of the situation you are in. A small gasp escapes Satan's lips, a hint of surprise in his emerald green eyes. You move your hand to gently stroke his golden blonde hair, the wrath you felt building up starting to ease. Satan's eyes can't help but to flutter closed at all of the different sensations, and as you continue to stroke his hair, you turn to address Mammon and his other brothers.

"Hey! Whaddaya mean by your hum-"

"Mammon, sweetheart," you cut him off, "I know you probably think you have a good plan...but whatever it is, if this many people are telling you it's a bad idea, it probably is."

"But-"

"No buts. You know in the end you're just gonna get strung up from the ceiling again. Now, if you will excuse us, we were busy reading Oscar Wilde before the three of you interrupted," you said, turning your attention back to the book and ultimately trying to get your evening back on the rails. You feel Satan's cock twitch inside of you once again as you take the book from his hand, forcing you to bite your bottom lip.

"Tch, whatever. Who even cares, I've got tons of other ideas," Mammon says as he sulks his way out the library door. Leviathan pushes off the table, also making his exit as he simultaneously continues on with his current in-game mission. The only brother that still remains is Asmodeus. He remains stood across from the two of you, a hint of suspicion on his face as he watches you. Unbeknownst to you, he had been observing you both since he entered the room. The obvious lust lingering in the air upon his arrival, and again a few moments ago, had been enough to keep him curious about what you two are really up to. Folding his arms across his chest, Asmo is determined to get to the bottom of this.

"Reading...sure..." he says, an eyebrow raised, clearly implying that the two of you are hiding something.

"Clearly, we are reading. We're in the middle of The Picture of Dorian Gray, a novel you would probably do well to read. Now, I don't know what you think we're doing Asmo, but why don't yo-"

"You know exactly what I am implying, big brother," he remarks, a sinister smirk on his face. "Or have you forgotten I'm the Avatar of Lust?" At the mention of lust, Satan can feel you clench around him and hold on. His breathing hitches yet again, his heart racing right along with yours, at the prospect that Lust itself has caught you in the act. "Did you think you two could hide this from me? Such blatant lust right in front of me," he says in a lightly mocking tone. You look over to Satan to see his cheeks dusted with blush and his eyes avoiding the both of you. You can feel yourself dripping down his hard length in anticipation of what could possibly happen next - whatever it is, the haze of lust grows in your mind, and you're just hoping to get some relief. It's hard to even focus on what the two demons in the room are talking about when all you can think about is your growing desire to just start bouncing on Satan's cock. It's not like Asmo would care, right? So tempting...

Before you can even make a decision, Asmo steps forward and reaches down, pulling on the blanket covering the two of you. Satan tries holding on to it but Asmo uses all of his force to pull on it, ripping it away and exposing your little cock warming session.

"I fucking knew it," exclaims Asmodeus, clearly satisfied with the results of his query. He tosses the blanket down on the ground, then goes to sit in one of the reading chairs across from you, his eyes glowing pink and his sinister grin wide. "Oh, don't mind me. Our darling human clearly needs you more right now, dear brother~♡" As much as Satan wanted to protest, he'd have to punish his younger brother later. Neither of you have the resolve to hold back any longer, and if the Avatar of Lust insists on watching, then he better enjoy the damn show. You both knew waiting was apart of the fun of cock warming, but neither of you expected such an agonizing pleasure. You had been carefully rubbing your thighs together, trying to find a small bit of relief, while Satan quite literally bit his tongue to hold in the moans - that was, until, you two had been exposed. To hell with hiding; to hell with waiting. You place your arm on the back of the couch, pushing yourself up and sliding back down Satan's cock. Moans escape from both of your lips in unison, like music to Asmo's ears. He reaches down to undo his belt buckle, the sound of which causing Satan to open his eyes and shoot him an emerald death glare. You can't help but to let out a whine at Satan's lack of attention - you don't give a damn what Asmo is doing, you need Satan to fuck you into the couch, and you need him to do it now. Hearing you whine seemed to have done the trick, because the moment he looks at you and sees the desperate look in your eyes, he starts to thrust up into you.

"Finally," you sigh happily, relieved to finally be properly taking the cock you've been craving since he slid himself into you. As you bounce on Satan's lap, your eyes flutter closed, your hand clenching into the back of the couch as the other grips one of your breasts through your shirt. You open your eyes momentarily to see that Asmodeus has taken his cock out of his pants, and is now stroking it while watching the two of you over on the couch. 'Fuck,' you think to yourself, feeling yourself get even wetter at the sight. The pace of Satan's thrusts picks up as he reaches down in front of you to toy at your swollen clitoris, a jolt of pleasure being sent through your entire body at the moment of contact. 

"Fuck...yes kitten, just like that. So good for me," Satan praises as he continues to fuck you towards your first orgasm. As Asmodeus watches the Avatar of Wrath pound into your needy hole, he did his best to match the pace of his brother's thrusts with his own hand. He'd love to be the one passionately fucking you right now, but he'll settle for watching you as long as you get pleasure. Lust being his sin, he is feeding off the two of you right now. Even if you were ordinary he'd be soaking it in - but you're his darling human and he is simply obsessed with your pleasure. You have no idea how gorgeous you look to him right now - how amazing you look when you wear his sin on your face, the gorgeous way your voice reverberates off the walls when you moan. You truly are a work of art ~ ♡

The three of you moan in harmony as you continue to make your way towards the peak of your first orgasm. Satan continues to pump into you at an unwavering pace as he massages your sex, and you can feel yourself finally being pushed over the edge of your first orgasm. A warm tingle spreads over your entire body, your moans becoming erratic and your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Satan continues on, overstimulating you in the best of ways. You ride the high of your climax until you come down, Satan slowing the pace of his thrusts to allow you to catch your breath. 

A few moments later, you feel both of his hands clasp your hips, and suddenly he's bending you over the arm of the sofa. He begins driving his hips into you, hitting spots inside of you that no one else has before. He fucks into you at a steady pace, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips with each thrust, and in your mind's lustful haze you swear you can see fireworks. In the midst of it all, Asmodeus spots an opportunity for himself. With his own throbbing cock still in his hand, he stands up and makes his way over to your side of the couch. With his free hand, he cups your cheek, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb as he strokes himself.

"Darling, you look absolutely delectable. May I? Please~?" he asks as he puts the head of his cock near your mouth, looking down at you with pleading eyes. You nod and moan out a 'yes' before he slides himself into your mouth. A sigh of relief and an unrestrained moan fall from Asmo's lips as he feels your soft mouth around his hard shaft. The way Satan is pounding into you from behind creates enough momentum to fuck you onto Asmo's cock for him - all he has to do is watch, and he is simply entranced by you. He pushes your hair back out of your face, cupping the back of your head gently as he watches you. The way you're looking up at him as you suck his cock is enough to make him wanna bust alone, and that's without taking into consideration the way it feels when you moan against him. 

Satan starts to pick up the pace, feeling his own climax starting to come close. He reaches down to massage your clit once again, his thrusts starting to become harder and more erratic. Your muffled moans grow louder, as does your orgasm once again, as the three of you frantically fuck each other, trying to get each other off. Satan can feel your walls begin to tighten around him, your orgasm being the first to hit it's peak. 

"Fuck, yes kitten, cum all over my cock," he says as he pounds away at your increasingly tightening hole, his seed spilling into you after only a few more thrusts. As you moan all over Asmo's cock, he can't help but to thrust his hips into your face, his cum shooting down your throat as he gently moans your name. Asmo pulls out of you immediately after finishing, wiping your face with his thumb to clean up any stray. A few moments later, after catching his breath a little, Satan pulls out of you and quickly fixes his pants. He sits down on the couch and pulls you into his lap, not caring about anything leaking onto him. He wraps his arms around you and you both just sit together, continuing to catch your breaths. Asmodeus breaks the silence.

"I think I'll have to come to book club more often."  The three of you erupt into exhausted laughter. Book Club may have to become a regular occurrence - in a more private meeting room, of course. 

· demonvibez ♡ 2023 · do not copy, repost or modify · · likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

My life does not belong to me (but these secrets are my own)

Blood nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.2k

genre: fluff? I guess?

warnings: red robin breaks into reader's apartment but he's very polite abt it, he also kind of intimidates and threatens but it's all for funsies

a/n: another intro another story here ya go

There's a certain fear you feel when something takes you by surprise - when you miss a step walking down the stairs or you reach into your pocket and realize you've lost your phone. These moments, you think haltingly, all pale in comparison to the fear that strikes through you when you flip on the light in your apartment and see Red Robin perched in the corner of your living room, arms crossed and scowling.

"People usually knock first," is all your brain supplies.

"The murder victim from last week. You were at the crime scene," is his only retort, curt and professional. You hum thoughtfully, throwing your keys and wallet onto your coffee table and removing your jacket, slinging it over the arm of your couch as you cross your arms to mirror his, leaning against the wall opposite him.

"And you're so sure of that?" You quip back. His frown deepens. 

"A private investigator trails a man for three weeks and then he ends up dead in an alley. This is serious." 

"Oh, I'm sure it is," you say, the patronizing edge to your voice making Red Robin's fists clench as your heart hammers in your chest. "But… not for me. Because you see, Red, I wasn't there, I didn't kill anyone, and I'm not the cop working this case. So, I would suggest finding someone who's actually involved in this in some way. You can go and have a very serious conversation with them, instead." Your frown matches his as the two of you stare each other down, your arms still crossed tightly against your chest as you hope he can't tell how desperately you want him to stop sniffing around and leave.

"You're awful nervous for someone who's not involved," he says smoothly.

Fuck, you think.

"Let's try this again," Red Robin pushes himself off the wall, stalking towards you. You do your best not to move - not to back away when he comes close, looking you in the eyes through the white slits in his mask.

"You were there in that alley the night that he died. You were not the person who reported the body - you fled the crime scene, instead. You've been tailing him for weeks because his wife supposedly hired you to find proof of him cheating. You must have, in all the time you spent following him, realized that his late-night rendezvous were, instead, because he was dealing drops for Falcone." You inhale sharply at Red Robin's words and he grins viciously, like a wolf who's just caught a rabbit between its teeth.

"Shall I continue?" He mimics your patronizing voice from earlier and you open your mouth, a retort dying on your tongue as he continues talking. "You claim to make your money by way of rich women hiring you to expose their lying, cheating husbands, but you and I both know that's just not true-"

"It is-"

"Oh, sure, yes - it is true. You do technically do that work. But there are some other things you have your hands in, hm? Aren't there? You do a lot more than just that for your clients. A lot that I'm sure the GCPD would be thrilled to have some evidence against."

Red Robin leans closer to you, silence dripping between the two of you as your head spins and you try desperately to grasp onto enough words to snap back with something - anything. 

"I didn't kill him," you finally say firmly. "I had nothing to do with that."

"No, I know you didn't," Red Robin shrugs casually and leans away from you, rocking back on his heels as your shoulders drop in relief at the new distance between the two of you.

"Then what the fuck was that?" You snap at him.

"You were being evasive. I got impatient." He spins away from you and sits on the arm of your couch, settling in. 

"You're not staying here," you say pointedly.

"Oh, only for a little while," he waves off your anger. "I need you to tell me what you learned about his drops dealing."

"Excuse me?" You retort, heart still pounding uncomfortably in your chest as you come down slightly from your panic.

"Any information we can get involving these drugs helps us," he explains, You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck where the stiffness has begun to ache. 

"If I give you the file I have on him, will you leave?" You glance at your balcony door pointedly, noticing that it's no longer locked.

"Oh, I promise," Red Robin grins. You roll your eyes and turn on your heel, leaving him to go retrieve the file from your office. 

Tim sighs as you walk away, rolling the soreness out of his shoulders as he listens to you slamming filing cabinet drawers open and closed on the other side of the wall. Yea, he thinks, you're pissed. 

He takes the time to let his eyes wander over the details of your apartment - your home… if you can call it that. It's exactly what he expected from someone covering up an illegal lifestyle - generic, just lived-in enough for you to be able to say see? Absolutely this is my very normal apartment and my very normal life, officer. But no photos on the walls, no interests displayed, nothing that would reveal any sort of personal information about you.

He wonders idly what your very not-normal office must look like when you come back, slamming the file onto his lap with enough force that his hands shoot out to catch it. You stand in front of him with your arms crossed, glaring at him.

"Everything's in there. You can leave now." He nods at your words, flipping open the file to make sure. 

"This is some good work," he muses.

"Not interested, Red," you snap back. He flips the file shut and stands, ending up closer to you than you would have liked as you lean back slightly, his chest brushing against your crossed arms. But all he does is huff out a laugh before stepping away and sliding open your balcony door.

Red?" you call out. He turns to you, cocking his head to the side. "Are you… going to give the police the evidence you have against me?"

"What evidence?" Red Robin shoots back, grinning again. 

"Oh, you - you've got to be fucking kidding," you sigh, shoulders slumping as you bury your face in your hands.

"You're good at what you do - I had trouble finding anything on you. Oh and, uh… you should really lock this door. You never know who might try to come in," he quips before you hear your balcony door click shut. By the time you look up from your hands, he's gone, and you move quickly to lock the door once again.

Not that it matters, you muse, inspecting the lock for any signs of a break-in. Fucking bats - they never leave a goddamn trace.

But as you turn back to face your living room again, a note on your coffee table catches your eye. Snatching it and unfolding it quickly, the writing inside makes your jaw clench.

Call this number if you find out anything new. - Red

You sigh, throwing the note back onto the table and slouching into your couch, face in your hands once more. Somehow, you doubt that's the last time you'll be hearing from Red Robin.