#but it sure as hell made me feel this way'

[cherrygirlfriend]

is it new years yet? pairing: reader x neighbor!rafe synopsis: seeing your old neighbor on christmas during your break leads to you going down memory lane - and into each other's pants. warnings: smut, spit play, degradation, piv, unprotected sex, MDNI wc: 2.4k inspired by 'is it new years yet?' by sabrina carpenter and me being the only one single in my family during christmas. fun fact; i wrote half of this while celebrating christmas with my family and the other half on my way home. enjoy!

everything in life comes with pros and cons; the same applies to being the youngest in your family.

your two sisters and your brother all came to christmas with their significant others; you came with the hangover you were nursing from going out for drinks with some of your high school friends.

your oldest sister just had her first child. your other sister had just gotten married, and your brother brought his girlfriend of two years, that he was planning on proposing to.

you? the closest thing you'd come to something even resembling a relationship was a fling with a guy who ended up ghosting you after telling you he loved you. and although your new nephew was adorable, everyone around you being in relationships made you feel utterly alone.

as mariah carey's 'all i want for christmas is you' played in the speakers for the fifth time that night and you were served another slice of the mediocre fruitcake, you felt like taking the knife set down in front of you and making your eye socket it's new home, the urge only worsened by the words your eldest sister uttered.

"so, do you have a boyfriend?" she asked in a sing-songy voice, looking at you with an inquisitive look on her face, and you knew the comment was meant to be goodhearted, but all it managed to do was make you irritated; your relatives always knew what to say to piss you off.

you swallowed the remaining food in your mouth, "nope."

"what do you mean? you're gorgeous. there's gotta be someone who's into you!" your other sister exclaimed, rubbing salt in the wound. all you wanted was to forget that you were the only one at home with no one to hold. you just wished it was new years already.

your family didn't even notice when you slipped away from them to the patio that wrapped around your large house, hanging your head and your upper body over the railing, your hair dangling in the air as you let out a long breath that you'd held the entire time you'd spent in your family's company, feeling the blood rush to your head as you stared at your legs through the wide holes in the railing.

"you know that could kill you, right?"

you heard a smug voice say, one that was eerily familiar, and your suspicions over who it belonged to were confirmed when you lifted yourself up, your hair flipping and your eyes landing on none other than rafe cameron.

rafe cameron. a name that you never wished to even have to think about, a face you never wanted to have to look at. he had been your neighbor your entire life up until you moved for college, and he'd always enjoyed making your life hell.

"for that, i'm pretty sure i'd have to hang here for longer than fifteen seconds, but thanks for the unwanted medical advice, cameron. why are you creeping around our backyard?"

"aw, you didn't miss me?" he said with feigned sympathy as he slowly ascended the steps leading onto the porch, a small pout on his face.

"what's there to miss? you being a dick?"

rafe tutted, looking at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes, "see, the last time things were about my dick, you didn't seem that hostile."

...oh.

"that was a mistake." you said, trying your best not to make your voice shake, rolling your shoulders back and straightening your spine to try and seem confident, but he simply chuckled.

"you seem to make a lot of mistakes."

as he said those words, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to all the times you'd let him pin you against the wall of a small, skeevy janitor's closet that smelled of clorox and your mingling hormones, or the way he'd made you plead and beg before he'd let you come undone, coating his fingers in your creamy liquids.

but it felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over your head when those memories blended with ones where he'd said such cruel words about you, and then saying the same things in private, in such a different way.

"god, you're such a slut." he'd scoff, shaking his head as he looked from topper to kelce, both boys laughing at his words.

"god, you're such a slut..." he'd whisper against your skin as his long digits hit the spongy spot deep inside you, "such a good little slut f'me..."

you cleared your throat, your hand traveling to fiddle with the pearl earring in your ear, rolling it around between your thumb and your forefinger to try and not to focus on the way you had to shift from one foot to another, not wanting the wetness that was beginning to gather between your legs to stick your panties to your pussy. "what are you doing here, cameron?"

"i heard you were back in town. wanted to come see you."

his words made you roll your eyes, "last time i checked, we weren't exactly friends, cameron."

your eyes widened when his hand slid behind your back and he pulled your body flush to his, your heart hammering against your chest like someone was doing renovation inside your body. you didn't want to have these reactions for the man, but your body was betraying you.

"and last time i checked, the nickname you liked to use for me wasn't cameron."

"i'm never using that name for you again." you said, trying not to let your voice waver, to stay strong in what you knew to be the best thing for you to do, to not show how much you wanted him to ruin you in the way you hadn't been ruined in so long.

"i bet i could make you." rafe's lips were so close to yours that you could feel the breaths he let out as he whispered those words.

"bet you-"

before you could finish your sentence, the hot lips you used to know so well were once again on yours, and just like all those times, you gave into it, gave into him way too easily, your lips parting almost automatically to allow rafe's tongue into your mouth.

rafe pushed you against the wall, his hand creeping down from your waist to under the hem of your skirt, his fingers traveling up your thigh painfully slowly, your body so attuned to his it's like you can feel every small ridge, as well as the bones and veins of his fingers. he always loved taking his time, loved making you suffer, loved making you feel like you were going to explode if you didn't have him right at that moment.

"i've missed this so much..." rafe mumbled as his lips moved from your lips, slowly meeting your neck, the small nips he left behind causing your breath to hitch, his other hand groping your tit through your bra, and it reminded you of all the times he'd treat you like shit in front of others, only to pull you into a dark corner and manhandle you, and how much you loved it.

you arched into rafe's touch as his fingers teased the edge of your panties, and when his fingers only brushed against the wet spot in your panties, you let out a small whine, and you knew he was thriving from how easy it was for him to make you come undone.

"tell me you want me..." he mumbled against your neck as his hand started circling your clit through your panties, making them cling to your panties.

it was the last thing you wanted to say; but your vocal chords disagreed with you. it was like the warm feeling in your stomach was controlling everything you did, everything you felt, everything you thought.

"i want you..." you managed to breathe out, the man adding pressure onto his finger as he continued rolling your clit.

"say it."

"i wa-"

"not that." rafe delivered a sharp smack to your pussy and you gasped at the small squelching noise it'd caused, "call me what you used to call me."

"rafe..."

he brought the same hand that had slapped your pussy, and slapped your cheek, making you wince. it wasn't hard, but rafe always knew how to push your buttons. rafe grabbed your jaw, making you look up at him.

"say it."

"s-sir..." you whispered, your cheeks burning with shame, and you were overtaken with thoughts of all the things he had done to get you to call you that, but rafes lips twisted into a wicked grin.

"awww, such a good little slut." he cooed mockingly, "open your mouth." hesitantly, you opened your mouth further, rafe gathering some saliva onto his lips before he spit it into your mouth, enjoying the look of pure humiliation on your face as he watched you swallow it. "pull up your skirt."

you pulled up your skirt, your face still burning hot from humiliation as you looked up, wanting to look anywhere but at him, feeling rafe's long fingers on the waistband of your panties, the fabric starting to detach from your folds, rafe's breathing getting heavier.

you were attacked by sensations when rafe's lips ravenously attached themselves to your cunt, your head throwing back in pleasure as he basically made out with your sopping wet folds, your hand going to his buzzcut, reminding you of the way you used to grip onto the douchey haircut he used to have, on a boy who didn't look quite as defined as the man currently devouring you.

when you felt his tongue circling your entrance, dipping in and out of you teasingly, your walls started clenching around nothing, the world around you might as well have disappeared and turned into heaven. rafe detached himself from your pussy, and as you looked down at him drowsily, rafe's pupils were dilated, his lips covered in your arousal, the man looking like he'd gotten drunk just from tasting you.

"i missed my girl..." rafe murmured, pressing gentle kisses on your pussy, "she still gets so fucking wet f'me... she probably misses my cock so bad... you probably haven't found anyone who fills my princess up like i do, have you?"

"n-no..." you stuttered, making rafe tsk.

"that won't work. she gotta remember who her daddy is."

rafe lifted you up by the back of your thighs, causing you to let out a small squeal as your arms flew to hold on to the back of his neck, only for him to turn around, taking a few steps and placing you onto the edge of the railing, starting to unbuckle his belt.

"rafe, we're on my patio..."

"so?" he chuckled, his hands on his zipper, "it's not like outside of your house is the most scandalous place where we've had fun, is it?"

your cheeks started warming up when you remembered all the places where rafe had managed to get you to give in to him, where you'd begged for him to touch you in the way only he knew how to.

rafe pulled his trousers down, his cock bulging in his calvin kleins, a small wet spot visible on the white fabric until he tugged his boxers down just enough to free his cock, giving it slow, languid strokes. "tell me how you've much you want me inside of you..."

as you looked down at his cock, your tongue between your teeth, you felt hunger like never before; you couldn't care that you were outside your house and anyone could walk in at any moment, or that rafe was an asshole, the only thing you cared about was the way his cock felt inside you, the way it reached something in you no one else managed to, the thing you'd spent various nights trying to mimic with your rabbit toy, to no avail.

"so bad..." you choke out, and although it was the god-honest truth, it felt like the words were razorblades coming up your throat, only made better by the feeling the tip of rafe's cock rubbing on your clit, the man drawing circles on it like he was creating a masterpiece instead of just teasing the hell out of you. "please..."

he slid his length down your plump folds, making you held your breath as you waited to feel him invade you, only for rafe to stop at your entrance. if you were able to even think at that moment, you would've simply pulled him closer to you, but with rafe, he always held all the cards. he knew how to control you.

but the moment you felt only the head of his cock enter you, your vision was blurred. one of rafe's hands moved to grab the flesh of your ass while the other one still held you up. as he starts moving further into you, you let out a mewl that was meant to be his name but ended up being incomprehensible. it was like he was fucking made for you, like his cock was shaped just to fit inside you like a puzzle.

"my baby's still so fuckin' tight..." rafe rasped, and what started as a calm pace turned into him slamming all of himself into you, and if he didn't keep moving inside of you, you could've sworn you died the moment the head of his cock was slammed against your cervix.

"still such a good little slut f'me, hm?"

you rolled your hips against his, every thrust feeling more and more delicious; and like always, you forgot everything. you forgot who you were, where you were, what this was. none of it mattered. nothing, but him.

rafe's thumb moved to circle your clit as he continued rolling his hips into you, timing every slam to your cervix with a roll of your clit, making you ascend. he knew you, and he knew just what to do to make you weak, to make you his.

you tried to tell him you were close, that you were coming, but all that'd leave your lips were incomprehensible moans.

rafe moaned when he felt your walls tightening, pulsing around his cock, a sound so delicious you wished you could've recorded so you could touch yourself to it, yet he continued his movements in you, only now much slower and with much more groaning due to the muscles clenching around him.

"g'na come in you..." rafe mumbled against your shoulder, and you squealed and nearly screamed, when the head of his cock pressed against your cervix mid-orgasm. "f-fuck, you still feel so fucking good..."

he stilled inside of you, pulling your body even closer to his, letting out a groan, and although you couldn't feel it due to the intensity of your orgasm, you knew rafe had just delivered on his promise.

[wolvietxt]

I just read some of your Logan fics 🫠🤭🤤 absolutely in LOVE! i had to follow and request 😭 could you maybe do the age gap prompt with Logan “you’re more than enough for me.” ? You don’t have to but oh my god I am in love with ur work ❤️

YOU weren’t usually one to let comments get under your skin, but tonight was different. it started as a passing remark during the group’s card game, someone laughingly pointing out the age gap between you and logan.

“didn’t know logan liked ‘em fresh outta college,” they teased, nudging him with an elbow.

logan shot them a glare sharp enough to silence a room, but the damage was done. you forced a laugh, brushing it off like it was nothing, even though your stomach churned with unease.

as the night went on, the comment replayed in your mind, growing louder with each repetition. sure, you were younger, but it wasn’t like you didn’t know what you wanted. still, the words planted seeds of doubt - maybe they were right. maybe logan deserved someone more experienced, someone who matched his gruff confidence in a way you sometimes felt you couldn’t.

logan seemed to notice your shift, his sharp eyes narrowing when you grew quieter, your laughter a little more forced. eventually, he leaned close, his voice low. “hey. you good?”

“yeah, just tired,” you said quickly, plastering on a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

he didn’t buy it. you could tell by the way his jaw tightened and the way he didn’t take his eyes off you for the rest of the night. finally, when there was a lull in conversation, he stood and nodded toward the hallway. “c’mon. need a word.”

you followed him, your heart racing as he led you to the quiet of the hallway. he stopped and turned to face you, his hands on his hips, his gaze piercing.

“what’s goin’ on?” he asked, his tone softer now, his brows drawing together in concern.

“nothing,” you lied, crossing your arms defensively. “i told you, i’m just tired.”

logan let out a soft huff, stepping closer until he was in your space. “don’t pull that with me,” he murmured, his hands coming up to cup your face gently. “you’ve been off ever since that crack about your age. talk to me.”

his touch was grounding, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. you sighed, your shoulders slumping. “it’s stupid,” you muttered. “it just… it made me feel like maybe you could do better. like maybe they’re right and i’m too young, or - or not enough for you.”

logan’s expression darkened - not in anger, but in something deeper, more protective. his thumbs stilled against your skin, his grip firm but tender as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “don’t you ever think that,” he said, his tone heavy with conviction. “you’re more than enough for me, darlin’. never doubt that.”

your breath hitched at the intensity in his gaze, his words wrapping around the insecurities gnawing at you and crushing them under their weight. “logan…” you started, but he cut you off, his forehead resting against yours.

“listen to me,” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. “i don’t give a damn what anyone says. you’re all i want, and i’d go through hell and back to make sure you know that.”

a lump formed in your throat, your heart swelling as his words sunk in. you reached up, your hands covering his where they cradled your face. “thank you,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

logan’s lips quirked into a faint smile, his fingers tilting your chin up as he kissed you. it was slow and deliberate, a kiss that spoke of reassurance and devotion, his lips moving against yours with a gentleness that made your chest ache.

when he pulled back, he kept you close, his hands still framing your face. “next time someone runs their mouth, let me deal with ‘em,” he said, his voice lightening with a touch of his usual gruff humor. “they’ll think twice after that.”

you laughed softly, the knot of doubt inside you unraveling completely. “i’ll hold you to that.”

“damn right, you will,” he said, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before tugging you into his arms.

ᰔ logan howlett : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun, @omen-keke, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd

@superlegend216, @mikaaki, @withasideofmeg, @samfunko, @aaronhotchnerlover

@qxuanii, @m1cky-y-y, @uncertified-doc, @cryingwta, @pvndomi

@marvelescvpe, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @misscrissfemmefatale, @ltristessedureratoujours, @meadow-field

@hazydespair, @stupid-little-birdie, @aoi_targaryen, @urlocallocachica, @person-005

@christinamadsen, @zaggprincess2, @lokixryss, @mehjustalasshere, @spktrlvr

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[the-modern-typewriter]

The villain, who doesn't typically celebrate much anything gets invited to an event (holiday, gala, birthday, etc) by hero with no strings attached.

This is a Secret Santa snippet gift @snowshowerwriting 😊 Have a great one! I hope you enjoy.

---

“…And I was just wondering if, maybe, if you’re not too busy, you’d want to go with me?”

The villain stared at the hero for a long moment, watching the colour slowly creep up the hero’s cheeks and all the way up to the tips of their ears.

Snow begin to drift and eddy lazily on the empty rooftop around them.

“Only if you want to,” the hero said. “Sorry. You’re probably too busy, what with being…you. Forget I asked! It’s not a big deal or anything I just—”

“—You want me to go to the peace ball with you.”

“Only if you want to!”

“Why?”

The villain could think of a dozen reasons why, but none of them exactly fitted with their impression of the hero in front of them.

The annual peace ball was a tinsel-strewn, glittering festive affair designed to promote good will across the city by forcing all heroes and villains to join together in a night of absolute truce. No fighting. So help anyone who tried scheming, though of course everyone still did. Good will to all super-powered men, women and others on earth!

The villain had been invited before, in the first few years that the ball was hosted, by a few of the boldest players on either side of the roster. They’d always said no. Never mind that they’d never been much one for making a big deal out of arbitrary times of year. The hero in front of them was not a particularly bold creature, though, heroics aside. Nor were they the sort to want to make some kind of statement.

The hero was bafflingly genuine. Too true to themselves to be of much use in politics, and too powerful for most to want to risk taking a run at them. Powerful enough, certainly, that they didn’t need the villain’s protection or the implication of an alliance between them. Good enough, surely, that the villain struggled to envision a scenario where the hero tried to enlist them over mince pies.

Indeed, as far as the villain could tell, the hero had absolutely nothing to gain by having the villain on their arm.

The hero’s head tilted at the question. “Because I think it would be nice?”

“I’m not nice.”

“Well, no. But it would be nice to spend more time with you. But only—”

“—Only if I want to,” the villain finished.

The hero’s blush deepened. It was possibly one of the most adorable things that the villain had ever seen. Still, the hero stood their ground and waited for an answer, arms folded grumpily against their own overly expressive face.

“Yeah,” the villain said, smothering a smile. “Okay. Sounds…nice.” They kept their voice light. Casual. Their heart hammered in their chest, giving an almost painful squeeze at the bright grin that shamelessly crossed the hero’s face.

“Yeah?” The hero raised their eyebrows. “Nice.”

The villain snorted.

The hero’s grin grew, delighted. “I’ll pick you up at seven? Unless you’d rather meet there?”

“Seven is fine, but I’ll come get you. What address works?”

They made the arrangements, the hero practically fizzing, like they really were looking forward to a night with the villain at their side. No strings attached. It was…well. It was really was so damn nice. There was a rare, warm feeling buzzing in the villain’s chest.

Still.

“You do know you’re going to get hell for turning up with me, don’t you?” the villain asked. “Whatever your reasons.”

“Mm.” The hero made a show of thinking. “I fought a literal mutated snowman last week, but you know what really scares me? Other people’s dumb opinions at the Christmas party.”

The villain found themselves laughing.

“Honestly,” the hero said. “I don’t know how we’ll survive.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You could get hell for turning up with me. Whatever your reasons.”

“It’s cute that you think anyone other than you dares to give me hell about anything.”

“I could be a terrible, hellish date.”

“Oh yeah?” The villain took a step forward, before they could stop themselves. A belated lightbulb flicked on inside their head. “Is that what you are then? My date?”

“I mean—" The hero’s eyes widened. They floundered. They bit their lip, drawing the villain’s attention immediately, and parties were lame but that mouth was absolutely not. “Only if you want me to be!” the hero said. “We can just go as friends. Long suffering colleagues. I’m not trying to—”

“Oh, no. You’re my date, darling. No taking that back.”

“Oh, thank god.”

That time, the villain utterly failed at smothering a smile.

“Oh, crap. I mean—” The hero scrambled for a more eloquent, less relieved, cooler response. They came up endearingly blank.

“Nice?” the villain offered.

The hero narrowed their eyes, playful. “You’re mocking me. Rude.”

“I would never dream of mocking my date.”

“No?”

“It wouldn’t be very festive of me.”

“Oh, yes. Because you’re such a big fan of festivity and seasonal celebrations.”

The villain blinked, mostly out of surprise that the hero had been paying enough attention to even notice that. Maybe they shouldn’t have been surprised all things considered. The hero was smarter than they let on. “And yet,” they said, “you invited me to a seasonal celebration.”

“Well.” The hero shrugged, mostly managing careless that time. “Limited opportunities to take you out anywhere else. I think people might panic if I just turned up with you for a dinner.”

“We’d be served very quickly. I do tend to clear our restaurants with my presence.”

The hero snorted.

“So what does one do at a peace ball?” the villain asked, voice a murmur.

“There’s food. Drink.” The hero recovered themselves, reaching out and taking the villain’s hand, drawing them a few steps closer, leaving footprints in the snow beginning to coat the roof. Their voice softened too. Liquid caramel. “Dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“You done much of that before?”

“You might have to teach me.”

“Well, we start by you wrapping your arms around me like this…”

The villain might have shivered. The hero might have grinned, humming a made-up tune beneath their breath as they swayed together.

The weeks until the ball flew by.

***

People did stare when the two of them walked in. The villain chose to believe it was because the hero looked absolutely gorgeous, despite their dubious choice of wearing a festive jumper to what was clearly supposed to be a black tie event. The jumper was red and said ‘yule can do it friend’.

Maybe the hero was bold, in their way. The villain definitely thought, in the last few weeks, that they’d underestimated their sometimes-enemy.

There were a lot of people crowded into the city hall venue. Pretty much everyone. The villain abruptly missed their usual peaceful night of strolling around the city, relishing the way that the streets emptied as everyone bundled away to wherever their festivities were.

No panic. No screaming or nervous looks. No chance of some would-be-hero showing up demanding what the hell they were doing.

The hero set a steadying hand on the small of their back, studying their face, and their easy read of the villain’s emotions should have been alarming. It was alarming. It was also…

“You good? Do you want to go and grab a drink?” the hero asked. “What can I get you?”

“I don’t drink in public.”

“They have hot apple juice and hot cocoa too. Some fancy mocktails.”

“You don’t mind that I’m not joining you on the champagne?”

“Why would I?”

Some people, the villain thought privately, minded. They had specific ideas on what a party was supposed to be like and felt judged should the villain deviate from that pre-determined idea. The hero led them through the party, expertly weaving people.

“So?” the hero waggled their eyebrows. “What will it be?”

The villain retreated from the stand with an alcohol-free glass of sparkling. Easy to blend in, even if the taste was nothing special. The two of them watched the room for a while, trying out the various different canapes in the buffet, chatting.

It felt better with the hero at their side. They so obviously knew what they were doing at a party, smoothly carrying conversation with anyone who came over, but not in a way that made it seem like they were schmoozing. It didn’t make the villain’s skin crawl. The hero mainly got excited about and asked for pictures of everyone’s pets. Whenever anyone tried to comment on the fact that the two of them were there together, the hero said cheerily that it was “nice, wasn’t it?”

They’d catch each other’s eyes as whoever it was left. An inside joke. It had been a long time since the villain had been in on an inside joke. With the hero, it was a little thrilling.

Of course, as the evening wore on, there was dancing.

The movements were familiar, after all of the hero’s ‘lessons’ in the lead up to the ball. It made it easy to ignore the rest of the room, and the gaudy tree, and the awkward feeling that they might destroy their reputation for the sake of a party. The hero didn’t care about their reputation, did they? They just did what they wanted to.

“So,” the villain said. “What else does one do on a date?”

The hero’s eyes lit up, better than any fairy-light or candle. They stroked their fingers along the nape of the villain’s neck. The music took the opportunity to change to something slow and intimate, inviting everyone to press a little closer. It should have annoyed the villain, but with the hero in their arms, grinning at them, it couldn’t possibly.

“Well,” the hero made a show of considering. “There’s hand-holding.”

“Indeed.” Their fingers wrapped around each other as they moved.

“And kissing.”

“Ah, kissing,” the villain said. Their gaze dipped, inevitably, to that mouth worth going to parties for. “You might have to teach me.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve kissed before,” the hero said, amused. “But I’m always happy to provide a refresher.”

“Part of being a good, heroic citizen I imagine. Helping out the needy.”

“Needy, are you?”

The villain opened their mouth. They registered what they said.

“You’re blushing,” the hero said.

“It’s rude to point it out and mock your date.”

“I would never dream of mocking my date,” the hero said. Then, finally, the hero leaned in to kiss them. Sweet, honeyed, and the warm thing in the villain's chest glowed. They dragged the hero closer, wanting more, more, more. The hero laughed with breathless pleasure and nipped at their lips.

The next year, the villain vowed right then, they were taking their hero somewhere private.

[prael]

Day 3: Reciprocation

Itzy Yeji x male reader smut

words: 6,714 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

If there's one thing you've learned dealing with the rich, the famous and the devious, it's that there's always a deal to be made.

-

"Not often that I see a girl like you in a place like this."

"Well, you're an incredibly difficult man to track down."

It's the girl who's supposed to be on the main page of your site starting tomorrow morning. You gesture for Yeji to sit by your side, and while there are more than enough empty seats around you, she prefers to stand. What is this, a fucking power move?

"Well, you could have just called my office and made yourself an appointment."

It doesn't amuse her. She simply brings her hands up to rest on her hips as she looks at you.

"Look, let's get to the point. You can't post the article." There is something rather endearing in watching how she talks to you. Her hips are cocked and her face bears a look of determination, but she lacks confidence. You're not sure she even believes herself. Maybe she's just hoping that you'll cave.

You meet her eyes and hold her gaze for a few moments, searching for a crack in her armour. It's hard to say for certain when the only lighting in this club is what little neon they have on display, but there seems to be something else hiding behind her stare. A nervous energy, perhaps. So, you correct her, "I can post the article."

"Look— I, I have money." She takes a single stride towards you, with her long slender legs of which only part of her thigh is covered by the bottom of her dress. That thing clings to them like it does every other inch of her body. One hell of a figure.

"I'm well aware."

"Okay then, how much money will it take for you to drop the article?"

"Money doesn't compare to an article like this one—you know that. Come on," you lean forward a bit. "You should be smarter than that."

"How much?!" Yeji says again. There's an edge to her voice now and a stern look in her eyes. She must feel that you're not taking her seriously—honestly, you aren't. You can't count the number of times an agency has tried to block an article by simply throwing money your way. The novelty has worn off. 

"Listen, Miss Hwang, I appreciate the effort you have gone through to manufacture a meeting with me, however, just like I told your PR team, I'm not for sale. Should you want to avoid this sort of thing, then I'd recommend being a little more discreet the next time you want to fuck around." You glance at the door leading out. The exit sign above is blinking erratically, but it serves its intended purpose nonetheless. "I'll see you in tomorrow morning's news."

"No."

"No?" You raise an eyebrow. She may be a star and she may make people go crazy in more ways than one, but if you've learned something about yourself over the years, it's that you aren't as easily swayed by beauty alone, nor impressed by fame.

Yeji remains silent, her eyes looking down to the table in front of you and your mind instantly starts conjuring up scenarios where the girl goes into a screaming fit or starts throwing a tantrum until security drags her sorry ass out the door.

Her head snaps up again. "Fine." Yeji turns sideways and steps around the small table. It becomes apparent that she plans on sitting by your side, after all. She isn't exactly looking at you as she plops herself onto the cushioned bench. "You said 'next time', right?" She begins quietly.

In spite of yourself, a smile appears on your face when you see the wheels turn inside of Yeji's head. "I don't think I understand."

"Yes, you do," Yeji replies dryly. And with the certainty now back in her voice, it appears you've misjudged her.

When you remain silent for a few moments, Yeji eventually gives in and takes a quick, inconspicuous breath before looking up again. Her face is but inches from your own. "Have sex with me tonight."

It takes effort not to burst into laughter in response to such an absurd offer, and as a result, the amusement is probably pretty damn clear in the tone of your reply. "You're cute."

"I'm serious."

You look the girl in the eyes once more, leaning backwards. "You know how much trouble you could get into for trying something like this, right?"

Yeji's jaw clenches momentarily. "Yeah."

You gaze down along her body again. The skin on her thighs seems smooth and silky; definitely worth a closer inspection, and you would be lying if you said the knowledge of her dirty hook-ups didn't have your mind wondering about all the ways she might be willing to work her body in an attempt to sway you. You wonder if she likes it rough; likes having someone grab hold of those black locks of hers and yank her head back. Likes having a cock slammed down her throat. Your thoughts quickly go into a tailspin which has you imagining Yeji crawling towards you dressed up in nothing but skimpy lingerie, a hungry smile plastered across her face and a yearning desire to find out what sort of mess you could turn her into.

"So," you begin quietly. "I don't release an article about the K-pop star who keeps sneaking out into hotels to get herself fucked—and in exchange, I get to sleep with the K-pop star who keeps sneaking out into hotels to get herself fucked. Do I have that right?"

You see the embarrassment cross Yeji's features briefly, yet she still manages to bite out her reply with certainty: "Yes."

For some reason, even though she's been found out and forced into making such an absurd deal, she refuses to lower her gaze away from yours, almost daring you to judge her. You've seen her music videos online—goddamnit, everyone has—and she's sexy as hell. No one would deny that, and she looks stunning in that black dress of hers. It really compliments her figure. Legs go on for days, a toned physique and looking down the front of her dress as she leans into you, a pretty little pair of tits hidden somewhere in there as well.

"I've been propositioned before, you know, but usually that's to get their face on the front page, not off it." You cock your head at her. "How badly do you want this dropped, anyway?"

"What are you trying to say?"

You lean back slowly, deliberately, resting your shoulders against the seat as you feel Yeji's eyes study your every move. Despite the terrible lighting, you can tell she's biting her lip nervously. She's so close that the scent coming off her fills the air around you. It's a pleasant smell. One you wouldn't mind having all over your bed.

"I'll be blunt." Your eyes fall to her chest and you take note of how Yeji squirms under your stare. A tiny smile appears on your lips. "I'd love to fuck you. Hell, anyone in their right mind would love to fuck you. You're a very attractive girl, after all." You nod in her direction. "So, that part will happen if I agree to this deal of yours, however, there's one thing you haven't accounted for."

Yeji meets your stare. Her voice is low, yet resolute. "Which is?"

"You have no idea of whether or not I'm actually going to uphold my end of the bargain."

She pauses in silence and then moves her hand across the table, scooping up your drink and raising it to her full lips. As she knocks back the remainder, the way her slender neck stretches makes you wish you could wrap your hands around it.

The glass hits the table and Yeji licks her lips softly. The sight has you licking your own and for just a second, the both of you simply gaze at each other in silence, almost sizing each other up. Yeji finally shifts closer to you until she's right by your side. Her breasts press up against your shoulder and you feel her warmth on your arm.

One of her delicate hands lands gently in your lap and slides upwards onto your thigh where she starts to draw small circles with her fingertips. You wonder if she notices the slight hitch in your breath as she touches you. "We can go to your office. Sign a document. Legally binding. Non-disclosure. And agree to write a favourable piece about me. You can send out the request to your best columnist there and then. And then you can take me right there." Her words come out in soft whispers and her eyes dart over your face, trying to read your reaction.

Yeji is young and beautiful and she's clearly horny enough to get herself into this kind of mess. It doesn't come as too much of a surprise to you, then, when you feel a delicate fingertip trace over your crotch. "Take you?"

"On your desk. Over your desk," she elaborates shamelessly and with a hint of cheek in her voice. There's a smug expression on her face. She's enjoying herself but also relieved to be getting through to you. "However you want me."

"So, it's an exchange? A dirty deal done in the darkness?"

Yeji smirks. "I prefer to call it reciprocation."

-

Friday night in the office and it still has the passive hum of life, though not much of it. Cutting through the air is the loud clack of Yeji's high heels as she follows you silently past empty room after empty room. The interns putting in the long hours are all on the lower floors, giving you just enough discretion.

You glance back briefly at her before rounding the corner. Just like you had imagined, she seems rather timid now. Head held slightly down and glancing around the place, almost like she's embarrassed to be here with you.

Finally, you reach your private office near the far wall of the floor and wave Yeji inside. As you step up to your desk and turn, Yeji closes the door behind herself and watches you intently. The soft light in here gives you a much better opportunity to appreciate her.

"Come." You gesture her over while simultaneously logging into your PC.

It only takes a few simple clicks to bring up a basic confidentiality agreement which you proceed to edit. "As requested," you begin. "This agreement prohibits me from writing anything related to your numerous encounters with nameless men and women in various hotels throughout Seoul. Failure to abide by these terms enables you to take legal action against me and my firm to any extent deemed necessary."

She places her palms on the desk as you turn the monitor to show her. She reads it. You read here. Leaning forward has the front of her dress hang open a bit further. It's the first glance you get of her red bra underneath and the swell of her chest, just big enough for handfuls. She sees your wandering eyes, yet continues to scan the terms of the contract. It makes you curious if the idea of being looked at like some cheap slut turns her on. Maybe you should try referring to her as such. Would she object? Or encourage?

Yeji nods in approval and you click 'print'. She looks past you, watching it emerge from the machine.

"That's all we need," you say, never looking away from her. There's something mesmerising about her eyes. They're large, they're dark and they tend to draw you in. "Now I can't expose your whorish tendencies."

She looks offended momentarily. "Whorish?"

"Two months. Forty-two hotel visits were recorded. Thirty-five different partners." The chair rolls away as you push it back and stand up, towering over her frame. "Yes, you're fucking whorish, Yeji. Our research was thorough."

"I'm just having fun." She stops leaning on the desk. You both take a step in unison, beginning to round the desk while staring each other down. The moment feels tense. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Oh, I agree completely."

Another step. Another inch towards each other.

"There's no shame in being a bit of a slut. An incredibly beautiful slut."

A third.

You're face to face. Those heels make her almost as tall as you, and you glance at Yeji's lips as the tip of her tongue suddenly darts out over them. The only sound between the two of you is your shared breathing. Yeji tilts her head back slightly and gazes into your eyes, waiting expectantly for you to act upon your desire. Waiting for you to throw her onto the desk and fuck the living shit out of her, just as she asked for.

You wait.

Her lower lip disappears beneath the bite of her teeth.

Wait.

A sudden flush rises up onto Yeji's cheeks, undoubtedly born from her frustration, but you don't miss the excitement hiding within it either. Then, Yeji takes another step forward, one which has you taking hold of her waist, pushing yourself hard up against her body.

Almost instantly, the pair of you go from hesitant to frantic, moving without a single word being spoken between either of you.

Your mouths meet in an open-mouthed kiss of heat, passion and impatience. There's a gasp coming from somewhere, a mixture of a moan as the two of you collide. It takes more willpower than expected not to shove your tongue down Yeji's throat as you feel hers slide against yours in an instant. Fingernails dig into your neck; not hard enough to leave marks, yet not soft enough to be mistaken as anything else than a woman showing what she wants. It's exactly what you wanted to do when you first saw her tonight.

She bites on your lip, sucks on it and goes straight back in. You grab hold of her tightly and shuffle her backwards towards the desk. You can barely restrain yourself. A groan rises up in the depths of your stomach when Yeji parts her legs slightly, welcoming your body in between them.

Every part of you tells you to bend her over and start hammering yourself into her, yet there's still one last detail you must attend to. You break free of Yeji's grasp and shove her roughly down onto your desk.

Her hair fans out around her head and her gaze looks darker somehow, more lustrous under this light. You follow her shape, down, over the bumps of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips and then to the hem of her dress, where bare thigh begins again. She shudders under the weight of your stare. Legs falling apart, invitingly.

You feel Yeji tremble under your tender touch as you run your hand up the outside of her thigh and push up the fabric of her dress. The tips of your fingers bump along the rim of her underwear before reaching her hip where you trace shapes absentmindedly. She's smooth and silky everywhere.

"What is it?" Yeji asks breathlessly when you don't move for a few moments. Your attention remains firmly locked on that final detail. The thin lace material covering her cunt.

You look her dead in the eyes and curl your fingers around it. "Just wondering how many different people have had you like this."

The red lace is pulled aside. Yeji stares at you, seemingly taken aback by your bluntness as you lean down a little further and angle her leg to the side, letting cool air hit every inch of her bare sex. And it's a lovely sight, all things considered. Neat, trimmed and glistening wet. Your hand moves across her thigh to hold her in place. "Usually I'm on top," Yeji replies, finally regaining her confidence.

"You'd rather be riding me, huh?"

"Yes." Yeji's answer comes immediately. Your cock is stiffening already at the mere thought of having her small body bouncing in your lap as she rides your length like a bitch in heat.

She runs her own hands up her slender frame, feeling up the sides of her own waist, skirting around those perky tits and letting out the smallest whimper of anticipation as she caresses the side of her neck. Her eyelashes flutter with desire. It seems the girl enjoys being admired just as much as you enjoy admiring.

"Don't worry, you'll get to ride it soon enough." Slowly, you drag your middle finger up between her folds, making sure you put enough pressure down against the sweet little bud of nerves to make her arch her back at the sensation. A deep inhale catches itself in the back of Yeji's throat when you sink your fingertip inside of her, only for it to turn into a disappointed sigh when you withdraw.

She bites her lip in embarrassment, no doubt mortified that she couldn't keep quiet at such a simple action, although that doesn't stop you from repeating the movement, applying more pressure and then sinking further into her. This time you withdraw and then taste your finger curiously. If the sweet scent wafting off her wasn't enough indication, she tastes as good as she looks.

"How are you so wet already?" you ask. "All from thinking about getting railed over my desk, hmm?" You ask teasingly, lowering your mouth down closer to her pussy and holding your breath for a moment. You can feel the warmth coming off her.

"It's exciting."

"What, fucking a stranger?"

"Yes," Yeji says bluntly. She wets her lips. "There's nothing quite like giving yourself up to someone completely random."

Your hand slides down her calf and gently pulls off her heel. As soon as it hits the ground, it's replaced with a slow and tender kiss on the inside of her ankle. The skin is just as smooth and supple as the rest of her. From here you have a much better view of how her delicate little flower pulses in longing.

Your head dips and you suck hard on Yeji's inner thigh. You delight in the surprised yelp leaving her mouth as you rake your teeth over her soft skin, pulling at it before letting go. It leaves behind a lovely purple bruise which you blow cold air over, soothing the irritated skin. It makes you smile, knowing that mark will remain for a week, to be seen by whoever she fucks next.

"Do you get excited thinking about having me join the list of cocks pounding away at you?"

Without allowing Yeji time to think, your tongue finds her clit and starts drawing shapes around it. "Yes!" You hear her hiss. Your left arm reaches under her thigh and keeps her pinned down to the table while your right does the same, only giving your tongue freedom to dance over her wet cunt.

You sample her thoroughly, getting her used to the feeling of your warm tongue running over every part of her. You apply more pressure to your work once you notice Yeji bucking her hips upwards to grind against your mouth.

"Oh shit." Yeji is panting heavily now, gasping for breath whenever you pay special attention to her clit. Her thighs quiver every so often, tensing around your head. "Don't—don't stop."

Yeji has the nicest legs you've ever laid eyes on. The way they wrap tightly around your head, squeezing the air out of you when you suck down on her swollen clit, it feels heavenly.

Suddenly, Yeji's hips thrust forward, throwing your rhythm off momentarily.

"Mmm, oh—fuck," she whimpers as you feel her body shake and quiver underneath your touch. Your pace doesn't slacken even once throughout.

"Fuck," Yeji whines louder this time. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Already?

You put more pressure on her hips, keeping them pinned down as best as possible, whilst your tongue attacks her with fervent desperation, spurred on by Yeji's declaration. As the seconds pass by, Yeji becomes more vocal, though not with her words—with her actions. Her breathing picks up noticeably. Soon it becomes short and ragged. Her chest heaves. Her fingers claw into the surface below her. Her spine curves beautifully and her lips hang open wide, allowing loud cries to escape her.

She practically sings out for you as her nails scratch at your desk, looking for something to hold on to, something to ground her. Her whole body tenses up for several moments.

Then it happens.

Her mouth opens up wide yet no sound comes out, her back arches almost unnaturally and her juices coat your chin. The silence hangs in the air, heavy, palpable as her walls contract in ecstasy. Then it's finally broken with a loud snap. One of her fake nails pops off and flies across the room as she grips too hard on the edge of the desk.

Then she moans. Guttural, wanton, unrestrained, absolutely filthy. It fills the room, reverberating back to you in a delicious chorus of hedonism and pleasure. She lies there limp with her eyes shut. Her mouth open. Panting heavily. Basking in the glow.

"So easily?" you ask quietly. Yeji takes a deep breath, trying to steady her heart rate. Your hands leave her hips, caressing her trembling flesh, sliding upwards, running up her dress and over the curve of her waist until you reach her shoulders. You tug the straps down the length of her arms and lean closer, pushing the soft material down to reveal the top of her matching red lingerie. Your hand cups the back of her head. She instinctively knows to lift it.

You lower your lips down to her collarbone as you reach behind her to unzip her dress. The sensation of your kisses against her neck draws another moan out of Yeji. A quiet one this time, however. Gentle. Contended.

You kiss upwards, planting several against the underside of her jaw and the corners of her lips. "I can't stop myself," she whispers, opening her eyes just in time for you to press your lips against hers, tasting the lingering sweetness in your mouth. She smiles.

"Let's get you out of that dress," you say and she nods in agreement. "Up," you order softly and Yeji complies, lifting herself high enough for you to pull the material down her waist and over the length of her thighs. It falls to the ground in a heap at her feet. All that remains is the expensive-looking red underwear set she chose for this occasion.

The two of you exchange looks. She bites her lip. She can see the burning lust raging within your eyes. You don't care if it gives the game away.

There's an absolutely wicked smile that draws across her lips as you start to unbutton your shirt. Her voice is all sultry seduction when she says, "I've been meaning to ask you, are you always swayed so easily?"

"Honestly? Not really," you respond calmly, watching how her eyes eagerly take in your torso as you shrug off your clothing. "Maybe there is something about you that's just..." you trail off, unsure of how to end the sentence.

Yeji sits up on the edge of the desk and throws her arms around your neck, dragging you in closer so that your bodies connect. You feel her lips press against your chest in soft kisses. A finger trails over your abdomen, drawing patterns over your skin before moving downwards. "Yes?"

"Different." Your belt is quickly undone and dropped alongside her dress. Nimble fingers begin unbuttoning your trousers. You run your hands through her hair, appreciating how silky it feels running through your fingers.

Yeji has her gaze focused between your bodies, on her hands as they push your jeans down to the floor and you notice the change in her breathing the moment she wraps her hand around your cock.

She kisses her way up to your neck where her lips tickle your skin as she mumbles: "In a good way?"

Yeji presses the flat of her palm against the base of your erection, rubbing slowly. Your head tilts backwards slightly and you allow yourself a low groan. There's a warm puff of air as she giggles quietly against your neck.

"In a great way," you answer.

"Good," she purrs, suddenly tightening her grip on you and giving you several deliberate strokes. You watch intently as Yeji runs her thumb over the tip of your dick, circling it a few times before continuing with her motions. She leans closer, wrapping her legs around your body and placing her mouth by your ear. "I know what I said earlier about loving to ride a cock and all that," her voice is filled with lust. Pure, unbridled desire. "But honestly? I'd do just about anything right now to have you fuck me against this desk."

And that does it for you.

All semblance of control vanishes entirely in a heartbeat.

You drag her from her perch, only to turn her around and push her right back against the desk. Yeji bends over the edge and places both her palms flat atop it. You watch her toned legs move apart as she spreads them invitingly. Your hand reaches out to rest on her ass.

Soft. Round. Supple. Just begging to be fucked. Your dick rests comfortably between her cheeks, which are covered by the flimsiest piece of lace you've ever seen. The pair of you groan together in anticipation at the sensation of feeling each other so intimately. The anticipation of what is soon to come.

"You want me to fuck you, huh?" you ask.

Yeji turns her head to look at you, dark strands of black hair hanging before her beautiful, desperate eyes. "Please."

She waits expectantly as you move back just enough to hook your fingers into her underwear and pull them down slowly, revealing the pretty little cunt you had tasted earlier. The desk is ever so slightly too tall for her, and her long legs stretch to rest on her tiptoes.

You run your hand down between Yeji's pert cheeks, delighting in the gasp of relief leaving her mouth as you cup her heat. Your fingers slip through her slick, coating themselves with her natural arousal before one sinks inside effortlessly. You push it deep, drawing a content sigh from her lips as your digit bottoms out.

A second follows shortly after and she clenches hard around the pair of them.

"Your cock," Yeji demands. You curl your fingers inside of her, delighted by how she struggles to speak when you graze her weak spots. "Want it..."

"But this is fun," you state simply, continuing to explore every inch of her, learning which places cause the biggest reactions and relishing in her quiet hums of satisfaction every time you stimulate them. You'd be lying if you said it didn't make your cock pulse with the need to be inside her. That warm wetness wrapped snugly around your fingers would feel downright amazing around you.

Yeji wriggles her body, pressing her ass against you and whimpering as your digits push inside again. "Please... your cock." Your eyes drop from the beauty bent over in front of you and focus instead on the sight of your fingers disappearing repeatedly between those gorgeous legs. How her muscles clench and her toes curl against the carpet with each and every motion of your digits inside her. She looks ready. She feels ready.

"Well, seeing as you're asking so nicely—"

You slip your fingers out. The whine of loss from Yeji barely has time to fade as you grab hold of her ass with both hands, spread it out, line yourself up with her cunt and sink inside without hesitation. Fuck it. Why go slow?

"Oh god," Yeji moans as your hips meet. Her knuckles turn white as she claws at the surface of the desk in an effort to cope with the feeling of fullness that she's clearly experiencing right now. Her eyes widen and she bites hard into the back of her lip as her cunt stretches around you, accommodating you perfectly. She exhales deeply.

It's all worth it—the workplace compromise. This moment right here where your thick cock rests deep inside of Hwang Yeji's warm, wet cunt. Finally. And holy fucking hell—it's everything you could've ever asked for.

"I knew you'd feel so fucking good," you murmur, trailing your hands up Yeji's slender figure, feeling her back tense slightly when she lets out a small moan of agreement. Your fingers tangle into her long hair, wrap it around your fist, give a harsh tug to pull her head backwards, earning a sharp intake of air—and then you start rutting your hips into hers. Long, forceful strokes fill the air with repeated claps of skin slapping against skin.

The choked moans which tumble from Yeji's lips are music to your ears, encouraging you to keep her pinned down against your desk with a strong hand on the small of her back. Your fingertips press into her flawless skin hard enough to bruise, yet neither of you cares—not when there are far more important matters to attend to. Namely, pounding Yeji's brains out and filling her tight little pussy with ropes of hot cum.

So, you pick up your pace, quickening the tempo and making sure each thrust of your hips goes harder than the previous. Her mouth hangs open in a silent scream with each movement of your body against hers. Every slap of your hips against her ass elicits a reaction.

You're already addicted to her. Everything about Yeji makes you want to hold nothing back, and as you pull yourself out only to slam back inside her depths, you can't help but notice the absolute debauchery dripping from her words when she begs: "Harder. Fuck me harder."

And who are you to refuse her request? She looks incredible anyway, but seeing her eyes screw shut in bliss while a strand of saliva escapes past her open mouth? Nothing would convince you to let up now.

The constant clatter of objects rattling and shifting across the surface of your desk adds a nice soundtrack to the experience. So do the increasingly frequent moans spilling freely from Yeji's lips, each one higher-pitched than the last. They spur you on. Give you the incentive to chase after her pleasure.

And then you feel the telltale clamping down of her walls around you. Your cock is held tightly in her warmth, refusing to relinquish its grasp on you until you've filled her with cum. Until you've pumped your load deep inside of her wanting cunt. You know it's coming and you adjust accordingly. Forcing yourself to maintain rhythm as you pound her pussy into submission.

You yank on her hair and tug her upwards, forcing her back to crash against your torso. You bring your other hand to her chest, sliding beneath the fabric of her bra to cup at her tit. Her hands desperately search for but fail to find, purchase on the desk. She's helplessly suspended between your grasp and your cock as she cums. Helpless to do anything except take it. Take what she's given.

An indecent series of shrieks and wails erupts from somewhere deep within her chest as Yeji's body seizes up and convulses violently against yours. It sets you off. You bury yourself hilt-deep inside of her and explode. Your vision goes blurry, your toes curl, your jaw clenches shut and your teeth grind painfully together.

It takes everything within you not to collapse forwards on top of the girl you're filling to the brim, instead relying solely on the strength of your grip to stay upright as your cock jerks erratically inside of her, pulsating again and again, releasing stream after stream of creamy spunk deep into her.

As soon as the world stops spinning and the fog starts clearing from your mind, you're met with the sight of Hwang Yeji trying desperately to regain any semblance of control over her own body as well. She's slumped atop your desk, panting heavily, her body twitching occasionally.

You lean down, peppering a gentle trail of kisses down the side of her neck, stopping briefly at the space just below her ear where you whisper, "You look stunning like this."

It takes Yeji several seconds before she manages a reply. She eventually opens her eyes halfway and gives you an exhausted smile. "Like what?"

"Sweaty. Thoroughly used. Filled to the fucking brim."

Your comment draws a faint giggle from her which ends abruptly the moment you drag yourself backwards, slipping your softening cock out of her cunt along with the rush of semen that spills from her and trickles onto your desk.

"Oh god," Yeji mutters as the mess slips from between her legs. She pushes herself up from her prone position and lifts herself off your table, leaving behind a lovely sticky patch where her crotch had rested. You stumble towards your chair and plop down on it, resting your back against the cool leather whilst admiring Yeji's flushed features.

"I still haven't gotten to ride your cock yet."

"I don't know if I—"

Yeji drops to her knees in front of you and grabs the base of your shaft without a second thought, squeezing it lightly and causing it to stiffen slightly. "Well I do," she declares.

She leans closer.

You catch sight of your reflection in her dark brown eyes just before Yeji extends her tongue, running it carefully over the sensitive skin of your cock before planting a wet kiss against the tip. Then she does it again. And again. The movements become a pattern until, suddenly, you're enveloped by the heat of Yeji's mouth.

"Ah," you gasp as she takes you. So sensitive to the touch of her tongue as it swirls around you. She hums approvingly at your reaction and slides deeper, taking your semi-erect cock further into her mouth as she continues to suck you off. Her head bobs slowly up and down, gradually coaxing you back to life until she slips you out from between her lips with a pop.

"That got you hard fast enough." Yeji grins. She stands up straight, and then your jaw falls open slightly at the sight of Yeji reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. It falls to the ground in slow motion. Delicate pale skin stretches beautifully over perky breasts topped with cute pink nipples. God damn.

Yeji straddles your lap, trapping your body underneath hers. It doesn't take much to push you inside. To have her slide down the length of your shaft once again. She sits still for a few seconds, grinding her hips subtly against yours whilst biting on her lower lip. "Fuck, this feels good." She rotates her hips in little circles. "Feel that? I'm still full of your cum."

The pace is slower now. You're content to sit back, listen to the sounds of wet, sloppy sex filling the office air, and watch how her beautiful features contort with pleasure when your cock scrapes against a weak spot. There's something incredibly arousing about having such a famous idol sitting in your lap, fucking herself silly on your dick alone. She uses it like a toy to chase after her own pleasure.

One of her hands laces itself into your hair, tugging on it harshly. You retaliate with equal ferocity by sinking your fingers into Yeji's plump ass. It earns you a wonderful hiss of approval which comes accompanied by a tight squeeze around your shaft as her free hand moves down between your bodies and furiously rubs at her clit.

It's not long before you realise that she's close, and judging by her frantic behaviour, you figure she isn't looking to make it last longer.

Yeji whimpers cutely. Her head falls backwards, exposing her perfect neck. An expanse of unblemished, untouched skin that simply demands to be marked. Claimed. Taken.

And so you lean forwards, place your mouth on the soft skin and start sucking on it, nipping at the supple flesh. You feel her tighten around you instantly.

"Oh god!" She cries out. Yeji tries to bounce in your lap but fails miserably. She's no longer in control of her body. All she can do is quiver, cry out, and gasp in ecstasy as another orgasm surges through her. It's nowhere near as powerful as the previous two. Instead, it's drawn out. Lasting longer and keeping her moaning throughout.

When it's over and done with, you release your hold on her neck. In return, her exhausted head comes to rest against your shoulder. Her hot pants hit your cheek as she lay there limply against your frame.

"Too much?" you tease and Yeji scoffs. You give her a gentle spank and ask, "That's all you've got?"

"Just catching my breath."

She puts action to word immediately and picks herself back up. There's a determination etched all over her face as she brings both arms to rest on your shoulders, locking you in place and supporting herself on top of you. The expression she wears leaves little room for misinterpretation; this one is yours.

Yeji begins riding you again. Slowly at first, letting herself grow accustomed to the sensation of being filled again. Then faster. Harder. Using your cock to fuck herself on. Taking charge once more. You happily allow her to have it. Glad to let the beautiful starlet do whatever the fuck she wants with your body. Relishing the fact that you're balls-deep inside of her and she loves every inch of you.

"I need it," Yeji whines, slamming herself down on top of you again and again, her soft ass smacking against your thighs repeatedly. Her hair billows wildly around her, sticking to her sweaty skin, flying every which way without rhyme or reason, driven mad by her insatiable desire to keep on going. She keeps saying things under her breath, nonsensical at best, unintelligible at worst.

But her efforts get results. As much as you want to prolong the moment forever, your body can only handle so much. Pleasure courses through your veins like electricity, setting alight every nerve ending within your body until finally, you feel that familiar heat rise from somewhere deep within.

Yeji must sense it because she suddenly kicks it up yet another notch, crying out incoherently as she drops down on your shaft once more, twice more—a third time sends you toppling over the edge. You grip her hips tight, digging your fingertips deep into her flesh as your cock pulses powerfully inside of her cunt, painting her walls white.

She drags it out. Uses gravity to force you as deep inside as possible, allowing every single drop to spill inside of her again. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as you grunt loudly. Any coherent thought becomes impossible as you cum.

Once more, it takes several moments before you come back down from the clouds. When reality sets in again, Yeji is still straddled atop your lap, watching you with an amused grin stretching from ear to ear. You're left with nothing else to do except admire how her flushed cheeks accentuate her gorgeous features even further.

"I know. I know," she says while stroking your cheek. "I'm amazing."

"You're trouble," you correct breathlessly.

She rolls her eyes at your choice of words and then glances downwards. You follow her gaze just in time to see her raise herself off your spent member, allowing several thick strands of cum to dribble from her cunt and onto your leg. You both share a brief laugh at how filthy it looks before Yeji clambers off you and steps away, leaving you completely bare whilst she reaches down to retrieve her panties.

"No," you blurt out immediately. Your interjection catches her attention and she halts mid-motion, quirking an eyebrow curiously.

"No?"

"You can leave them."

She gives you a knowing look but acquiesces anyway, stepping aside and grabbing her dress instead. "Disgusting," she winks with a coy smirk.

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Reader goes on a beach vacation with Joel after her father breaks his leg. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: The devil works fast but I work faster. New multi chapter smut fic inspired by those damn new Pedro pics in the works…enjoy part 1! I haven't planned all of the smut scenes, so if you have any requests for specific kinks/scenes, do let me know!

He’s dead fucking wrong. You love your father, enough to not immediately say no, but he’s wrong. It’s true you could use a girls’ trip, perhaps even a couple of days out of town with your Dad, and he’s not entirely off about university being the death of you, kiddo – you’ve spent one too many nights inhaling coffee and cramming for your finals. The idea of an all-inclusive trip is tempting, given the fact that all you manage to eat these days is pasta and store-bought pesto, if that.

Nevertheless, you need to keep studying, there’s less than two weeks left until your exams, and although the trip is only a couple of days, you don’t know Joel.

Sure, you’ve been to his barbecues, and he let you use his bike one year when yours was stolen and your Dad refused to buy you a new one, because you should have locked it up in the first place. You know how he patched up your Dad after the divorce – you never worried about your mother, who was heartbroken, but able to talk about it to her family and friends. Your Dad was the one you spent sleepless nights over. The way the beer bottles accumulated in his garage, how distant he seemed on the phone. You know it was Joel who looked after him, made sure he left the house and had anything edible inside it. You’re grateful for it, you are, but you don’t really know him. For most of your life, he has been a friendly smile and wave over a fence, and you’re shy around people you know much better than the occasional hey kid, you back for the summer? or if you see your Dad, tell him I borrowed his screwdriver, I’ll put it back tomorrow.

You do feel slightly guilty your Dad can’t go on his trip. He broke his leg, and although it’s not entirely your fault he slipped, you had been the one to mop the stairs right before the accident. As much as your Dad was looking forward to his vacation, after a week he had to admit a beach holiday would be little fun with a whole leg in plaster.

You sigh, staring at your phone screen, tapping on it every once in a while to keep it from turning black. He’s expecting an answer soon, you know he is. Who the hell books non-refundable trips anyway? When you get the time, you’ll need to tell him about a lovely invention that is insurance.

You glance over at the stack of unfinished coursework on your desk, your laptop taunting you with its quiet – no responses to the millions of job applications you have sent out have come through. At this rate, you’ll be jobless in a couple of months, when you finish your degree. You’ll have to live with either of your parents forever, no money for any sort of vacation whatsoever.

"Oh, screw it,“ you mutter, unlocking your phone, and typing quickly.

I’ll do it. Only because my A+ cleaning is the reason you can’t go. Tell Joel to bring something to read, I need to study.

***

"It’d be a shame if it went to waste, kiddo, I’m glad you’re doing this.“

"Yeah,“ you answer, thinking of the endless powerpoint slides you haven’t even looked at yet. "Maybe studying at the beach works wonders.“

There’s a knock on the door, and you move to open it, your Dad chained to his chair by his broken leg. You’re not particularly excited about the smalltalk you’ll have to make with your Dad’s friend, but if you remember correctly, Joel is as much the quiet type as you are, and might actually appreciate your studying. Great, you think, at least one of us will enjoy it, then.

When you open the door, the first thing that strikes you is how hard you find it to envision Joel at the beach – he’s all mountains and trees to you, with his lumberjack boots and flannel shirt. His smile is friendly, and only gains warmth when he notices the critical look you give his outfit.

"I know,“ he says, voice deep and quiet, "I’m king of dressing for the occasion.“

You grin, and open the door wider.

"Come on in. Dad’s in the living room. What’s with the…uh…“

Your voice trails off, as you gesture towards his distinctly un-vacationy clothes.

"Thought you might bail,“ Joel answers easily, stepping into the house. "Can’t imagine you’re overly thrilled about this.“

You think about denying it, but this is your chance to come clean about how you would much prefer keeping to yourself and preparing for your finals, so you sigh.

"Well, it’s kinda my fault Dad was, like, almost paralyzed from the neck down, so I figured the least I could do was not let his trip go to waste. I’ve got finals in two weeks, so the timing is…suboptimal.“

"Yeah, your Dad said. I brought reading material, so I won’t bother you too much.“

He’s easy, you realize. Easy to talk to, and easy to accept your reluctance to bond with an almost-stranger, quick to make you feel comfortable by hinting at that boundary. You smile back, and are struck by how he holds your eye contact until you break it yourself, nodding towards your suitcase.

"Think this will fit inside the car?“

"Sure,“ he answers, "I’ve got a Bronco.“

You have no idea what that means, but you assume it’s a good thing, so you smile vaguely.

"It’s an SUV,“ Joel explains with a hint of good-natured amusement in his voice.

"Right,“ you say, attempting to overplay your obvious lack in car-knowledge, "SUV. One of the big ones.“

It makes Joel smile again, and you notice the wrinkles around his eyes that make his face look all sunny. 

"Yeah,“ he says. "One of the big ones.“

You lead him into the living room to say good-bye to your Dad, who’s expression is a weird mixture of sombre and excited at the sight of his daughter and best friend getting ready to drive to the airport.

"Take care of her, Joel,“ he says, when you’re getting ready to leave.

"Don’t worry,“ Joel answers with a pat to your father’s arm. "I’ve got her.“

"I’m twenty-three,“ you remind your father, "I’ve done more dangerous things than a trip to the beach.“

"Yeah, but you’re still my little girl,“ he answers with a smile, squeezing your hand. You squeeze back, though his comment irritates you.

"See ya, Dad. Call me if something’s wrong with your leg, alright?“

"Sure, kiddo. Have fun, you two, and bring me a seashell.“

Joel grins at the open envy on your Dad’s face.

"We’ll go on another trip next year,“ he says in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Yeah, yeah,“ your Dad answers, glancing at his watch. "Better get going, or you’ll miss the flight.“

"We’ll be fine, Joel’s got a fast car,“ you argue, "A Bronco. That’s an SUV.“

Joel snorts.

***

Joel lets you take the window seat and plops down next to you, legs slightly spread so as to fit into the little space the two of you have. His leg nudges yours, and he pulls it back immediately, though you can see how uncomfortable it must be with his knees pressing into the seat in front of him. You move your legs towards the window with a glance at Joel, who looks grateful and is able to relax his muscles into a more comfortable position without invading your space.

"Thanks,“ he mutters, "Fucking hate flying.“

So do you, though not because you’re too big to fit into the space, and not because you’re afraid – mostly because it’s boring. Sure, takeoff is exciting, but you get nauseous from watching movies and the plane is much too loud to really enjoy your music the way you would lying on your bed at home. You could study, you suppose, but you tell yourself you wouldn’t be able to concentrate and kick your backpack further under your seat. Joel notices and chuckles.

"Finals, huh? You almost done with your degree?“

You can’t imagine him finding your boring university struggles interesting, but you’re not exactly fantastic at smalltalk, so you take the conversation he’s offering you.

"I’ve got one more year, but I’ve got to do a six month internship, and write my thesis, so yeah, this is, like, the last of my regular classes and exams.“

"You enjoy it?“

The question is strikingly honest, like he really wants to know, like it’s fine if you don’t. You look at him, his eyes already on your face, and for a second you think how handsome he is. You didn’t notice before, when he was just the owner of a bike you could conveniently borrow, when life was all skinned knees and staying up till sun-down. Now, he looks like an equal, like someone who wants to know about your life, someone you want to know about yourself. The change is a little unsettling, but thrilling. You realize you haven’t answered him, so you clear your throat.

"Sure, it’s alright. Not what I would have done if money didn’t matter, but it does, so…I can be content with it.“

Joel considers this, eyes still lingering on your face, as the plane starts speeding up for takeoff.

"What would you do if money didn’t matter?“

You shrug, and smile to yourself.

"Creative writing, maybe. Or English lit.“

"You always were the smart one in your family,“ Joel answers with a chuckle.

You glance at him, and feel a pang of something warm in your stomach as he compliments you. When the plane takes off, you look out of the window, but get the feeling Joel’s eyes keep looking at you. It makes your skin prickle, though not at all unpleasantly.

***

You get to the hotel when the sun is high in the sky, burning the top of your head and making you long for a shower and an ice-cold coke. Joel courteously carries your suitcase and although you don’t want to inconvenience him, you don’t mind the way his muscles bulge under the weight, arms straining against the navy shirt he had underneath his flannel. You wonder how he’s not suffocating in the heat, wearing his thick jeans and boots.

When you get to the front desk, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, searching for his reservation details with furrowed brows. You smile when you notice he uses two hands to scroll. It takes him a couple of minutes, cursing under his breath, and you smile at the lady, who smiles back, patiently waiting for Joel to find the right email.

"Sorry,“ you say to her, and try to catch a glimpse at Joel’s phone, so as to figure out what’s taking him so long. "Need some help?“

He throws you an offended look that makes you grin, and finally shows the lady his phone. She smiles, types something into her computer and gets out two room keys.

"Go easy on your Daddy, it’s easier when you grew up with the internet,“ she says, handing you each a keycard. You feel Joel stiffen beside you, and your stomach flutters.

"Here’s your keycards, you’re on the third floor. Enjoy your stay!“

"Thanks,“ Joel mumbles, taking the cards and handing them to you, before grabbing the two suitcases. He huffs, when you walk around a corner and towards the elevators.

"She was makin’ fun of me,“ he says accusingly when the lady is out of earshot, as if that would be your fault. You snort, all of a sudden feeling giddy at the prospect of being at the beach soon, your holiday only a couple of minutes away.

"I don’t think so, she was trying to help you by blaming your incompetence on your age,“ you say, Joel looking at you like he can’t believe what you said.

"Sorry.“ Your voice is quivering with amusement at how offended he is. "Daddy.“

That makes him clear his throat, and if your eyes aren’t playing a trick on you, his cheeks turn a shade darker. Bingo.

"Don’t say shit like that,“ Joel grumbles, "’M not that old.“

"How old are you, then?“

"Why?“, he asks, eyes meeting yours, and suddenly you’re the one blushing, your stomach swirling with something you definitely should not be feeling for your Dad’s best friend. Joel shakes his head. "Don’t start something neither of us can finish, kid.“

It’s just an offhand-comment about the way you jokingly flirted, but you feel all bashful all of a sudden. His mention of there being something to potentially start, the fact that the possibility even crossed his mind…when you look up at him again and watch him press a button on the elevator, you study the grey patches in his beard, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches as you’re waiting, his thick fingers drumming against the handle of his suitcase. It’s not what you expected to happen, but Joel’s got you intrigued.

***

You both agree to take a shower, get settled in and meet outside the rooms in half an hour – they’re neighboring, so it’s not far. You’re too lazy to properly unpack, so you just grab a bikini and a comfortable white sundress to change into after your shower. The water is welcome on your skin, washing away the grit and sweat of the hours spent on the plane, and you feel like a new person when you step out of the bathroom. You put on sandals and a pair of sunglasses, grab sunscreen, your books and notes for class, and a bottle of water, and throw it all into your beach bag, then head for the door. Joel is already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite your door wearing a different shirt, red swimming trunks and dark sunglasses. He’s got a towel thrown over his shoulder and you grin.

"Raw-dogging the beach?“, you ask, which makes him furrow his brows.

"The hell does that mean?“

You snort at his obvious annoyance at your innuendo.

"It means you’re only bringing a towel, nothing to entertain yourself with,“ you explain, gesturing towards your bag. Joel shakes his head, still frowning.

"I’m going to the beach, not the library,“ he answers, and starts walking towards the elevators, his flip-flops making their soft sound on the floor. Your gaze flickers down towards his legs, his swimming trunks revealing tan thighs.

"Comin’?“

You swallow, and catch up with him.

***

He’s fucking gorgeous. It’s a problem, how gorgeous he is, tan torso, swimming trunks low on his hips, bits of dark hair scattered across his chest and soft belly. His shoulders are wide, like they were made for swimming, his hair glistening as he shakes like a wet dog when he comes up for air. You have been staring at the same page for far too long now, but there’s no way Joel is able to notice your staring, not when you’re wearing your sunglasses and he’s busy swimming.

You know it’s a bad idea, that there’s no good that can come from crushing on a man twice your age, more than that, even. You know he must surely see the girl who came over to borrow his bike with tears of anger in her eyes every time he looks at you, and you know how much he respects your father.

Still, you are allowed to have fun. You’re doing this for your Dad more than anything, and you’ve been bending over backwards trying to make him proud with your good grades, so if there’s something you’re able to get out of this trip, you figure you’re at least allowed to look. And anyway, it’s not hurting anyone. It’s just natural, the half-naked bodies and blissful relaxation would affect anyone who has spent the last four months cramped up in a little dorm room.

You watch Joel swim towards the beach again, rising out of the water like some sort of Poseidon sent to personally make this trip unbearable for you. You think of his reaction when you teasingly called him Daddy, and swallow.

"Fuck,“ you mumble to yourself, when he tugs on his swimming trunks so that they don’t slide over his hips, dripping water onto the dry sand all around him. He smiles at you as he makes his way over to your spot – two deckchairs shielded by a parasol.

"Wow,“ Joel says sarcastically, when he looks at your book, still on page two. "Real page turner, huh?“

You blush, and open your mouth to defend yourself, but Joel’s expression softens, all biting humor gone, as he grabs his towel.

"You’re allowed to take a break from studying, you know?“

You watch him dry himself off, big hands rubbing the towel over his chest and stomach, leaving his legs to dry on their own, as he lays down on his deckchair.

"Easy to say, you’re not the one who has to face my Dad if you fail all your exams.“

Joel turns his head towards you, and you’re struck by how gentle his expression is.

"I know he can be a hard ass, but I guarantee you you’re not goin’ to fail all your exams, kid.“

You sigh and shrug.

"He give you a hard time ’cause of your grades?“

"No,“ you answer quickly, all of a sudden feeling defensive of your father. "I just wanna…make him proud.“

Joel smiles.

"I know for a fact you’re doin’ that without even tryin’. And anyway, it’s good to take breaks. Let’s your brain cool off and absorb information much better afterwards.“

Can’t argue with that logic, you think and close your book with a thud. Joel grabs it from you and throws it into your beach bag.

"I grant you two hours of studying each day,“ he says, and you have to laugh. "The rest is for having fun, gettin’ tan and drinkin’ cocktails."

It’s preposterous, that he would order you around like that after you told him you need to study, back before you even made it to the airport. But something is different here, away from your desk, and your Dad’s broken leg (and the rest of him, for that matter). Joel and you have fallen into an easy dynamic, and although it’s unusual, your reservations are gone. You’re actually looking forward to spending time with him, and not just because of the way his belly nudges against the waistband of his swimming trunks, or how his accent seems to thicken in the sun.

"Fine,“ you say, "but you’re paying for my tuition if I do end up failing, Miller.“

He grins at you.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

surprise!

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: smut, roommates to lovers

wc: 2.7k

warnings: humping, dirty talk, oral (f), squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: aight listen - i needed some time to process his new look and now i'm wet for him. he has a tongue piercing in this fic bcs ever since i gave one to rockstar!hyunjin i can't stop thinking about it (and tattoos). he is the moment😩💅🏻❤️

~ masterlist

Fucking hell.

Your hot roommate somehow managed to become hotter than he already was even after he gave you a good scare.

You were used to seeing his fluffy hair flying around everywhere, him tying it up while he was painting or cooking, putting it behind his ear constantly as a habit.

But the hair you were so fond of (even though you found strands of it everywhere in your apartment) was completely gone.

Without any prior announcement too.

You were just finishing up with dinner when he came home, strolling in casually and greeting you as he opened the fridge to grab a cold drink.

You greeted back, not even looking up as you were concentrating on cutting up some veggies.

You made small talk as always, you were kinda close and didn't mind sharing your day to each other over a meal.

Something was weird, you noticed out of the corner of your eye and when you lifted your head to look up, you almost cut your finger off.

"What the fuck?!" you practically screamed and Hyunjin laughed before smirking at you.

"Surprise?"

"Damn right it is." you stared at him in disbelief.

It was different. His long hair was comforting to you as sometimes he even let you braid it or play with it when you hung out and seeing him now was a shock.

His facial features stood out more and you couldn't help but admire his jawline, his nose, his eyebrows, heck even his ears were pretty.

It was unfair that he looked so good.

"I think our dinner's burning." he smirked knowingly and you shrieked, quickly turning the stove off and moving the pot aside.

Even as you sat down to eat, your eyes were glued to him.

"I'm guessing you don't hate it since you keep looking at me." he said, smirking again.

"Hate it? Far from that. I think you look h- well... um." you bit your tongue.

You never made a move on him even though you wanted to so many times, he drove you crazy every day, testing your mental strength as he strolled around shirtless, sometimes only with a towel wrapped around his middle, still wet from his shower. And you had a feeling he knew what he was doing, he was playing with you and he knew you were gonna eat out of his hand no matter what he does.

If you say it now, it'll be there on the table, laid out for him to make the next move.

You were sure the sly bastard was teasing you constantly.

"I look what? Say it." he dared you.

You put your fork down, wiping your mouth as you looked at him again.

"Hot. I think you look hot." you said, your heart beating out of your chest.

"Damn, did I have to shave my head for you to finally admit that?" he smirked and yes you were furious.

But you were also turned on at the way he was eye-fucking you and licking his plump lips, making sure to put his pretty tongue piercing on display.

Fuck, it was even hotter now.

"Shut up." you threw a napkin at him and he laughed at your feeble attempt to chase him away.

"Make me." he bit on his lip.

You didn't expect that.

"Make you?" your thighs pressed together, your stomach filling up with butterflies as you felt arousal gather on your pussy.

"Yeah, shut me up. Be creative with it." he smirked.

You observed him shortly as you felt annoyance and arousal rise inside you, wilding like the sea that was constantly spilling between your legs.

You stood up, pushing your chair back, almost making it fall down before you rounded the table to his side.

Hyunjin had a shit-eating grin on his face, manspreading in the chair as he looked up at you as if he was inviting you to sit in his lap.

You grabbed his chin making his eyes flutter instantly as you leaned in closer to his face.

God, he was beautiful.

"What are you waiting for, doll?" he smirked.

God, he angered you so badly.

So you crashed your lips on his, finally tasting him, feeling his soft lips move against yours.

Your hand slid on his face, his soft skin under your fingertips as you made your way to his hair.

Hyunjin was smirking into the kiss as you swiped your tongue over his lips, pushing it into his mouth to play with him, your hand finally touching his hair and it was surprisingly soft as you caressed him.

Hyunjin's large hands grabbed at you, pulling you into his lap as you whimpered into his mouth.

The kiss was sloppy, full of slurping sounds and teeth clanking occasionally but neither of you cared.

"Creative enough?" you asked when you parted for air, his lips were swollen and glistening with spit and you were sure yours were the mirror image.

"I think you can do better." he noted, the annoying smirk playing on his lips as always.

You held his face as you crashed your lips on his once more, kissing him harder and Hyunjin gripped at your hips before his hands slid down to your ass.

You bit on his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth and making him groan. His hand lifted up as he smacked your ass and you accidentally grinded against his growing bulge.

You froze for a moment and he looked at you hazily, his cheeks rosy, and a lazy smile, he looked even more edible than moments ago.

"Backing out?" he asked.

"N-no." you whined as he gripped your ass and pressed you into him, slightly moving against your core.

"Want me to take the lead, doll?" he asked with a smirk and you really didn't want to give him the satisfaction but he was already on it, leaning in as he started kissing your neck.

You shivered as he massaged your ass, slowly moving his clothed length against you and making your panties even more soaked.

Your hands were on his head and the back of his neck, touching him and getting used to the feel of it.

Hyunjin bit into your flesh, sucking on it and you wanted so badly to pull on his hair but you couldn't so you gripped the back of his neck, making him whine as his hands traveled under your shirt.

You were glad you didn't wear your bra as Hyunjin went straight for your tits, grabbing at them and playing with your nipples as he kept leaving marks on your neck.

You literally thought in that moment that he was going to make you cum in your panties, you felt so pathetic for letting him win so fast but he stopped all his movement, making you whine.

"Shh, doll." Hyunjin shushed you, grabbing your shirt and sliding it off, tossing it somewhere aside.

He looked at your tits as if he was in a trance but before you let him come near them, you tugged on his shirt so he took it off.

He had a few tattoos here and there and you wanted to press your lips to every single one, trace them with your tongue as if you were drawing on him.

Hyunjin didn't notice your mesmerized face because he was focused on your breasts, he finally leaned in and wrapped his lips around your nipple, moaning as he started sucking.

You whimpered, throwing your head back as you ran your fingers on the back of his neck.

Hyunjin's tongue lapped at your nipple, his hand sliding down into your panties.

You jolted a little, you didn't think he was this impatient but his fingers already found your puffy clit as he pressed into it and started moving them in circles.

You gripped his head, holding him down as he sucked on your breast harshly, making him whine around you as he sped up with his fingers.

"So wet for me, you're dripping." he ran his fingertips on your folds, gathering your wetness before he pulled them out of your panties and brought them to your mouth.

"Taste yourself." he smirked and you complied, opening your mouth as you moved against him, needing to feel anything as you sucked on his fingers.

He kept smirking as his other hand gripped your breasts, playing with them and you were just about to explode.

You gripped his wrist and pulled his hand away.

"I need more." you whimpered and he chuckled.

"Mm. What would that be?" he wrapped his arms around you, leaning in to kiss your collarbone and your breasts.

"Hyunjin, stop teasing me or so help me god-"

"What are you gonna do doll?" he smirked up at you, pressing your chest against his skin.

He was so warm and you wanted to drown in him.

You were about to get so annoyed with his teasing as you stood up, but Hyunjin followed you quickly, one arm wrapped around you as he moved the plates aside, making room to sit you up on the table.

You gasped in shock, looking back at the half finished dinner Hyunjin just pushed on the side, his fingers hooking into your pants.

"Here? Hyunjin, we eat here." you tried to scold him but he giggled.

"Oh, I'm gonna eat." he smirked, pulling your pants down and throwing them aside as you whimpered.

"Hyun!" your voice came out high pitched as he ran his fingers over the wet patch on your panties.

"All this for me?" he stared at you and you shivered under his gaze.

"Y-yeah." you swallowed, shivering in anticipation.

Hyunjin spread your legs before kneeling down, making you grip the table when his breath hit your core.

He leaned in, his lips attaching to your clothed clit as he licked at it, making the fabric even more wet before he started sucking on it.

"H-Hyun!" you moaned, your hand flying to his head to push him into you.

He smirked against you, tongue lapping over your folds as his nose pressed into your clit.

"P-please." you moaned, already grinding against his perfect face.

"Ah fuck it, I'm still hungry." he teased before pushing your panties aside, his tongue gathering your sweet juices as he moaned into you.

Your legs trembled as he started to suck on your clit, moaning constantly as if he was the one getting head, not you.

You kept running your hands on his soft hair, pushing him closer to you as he ate you out teasingly slowly, his tongue lapping at your insides, drinking from you, his piercing driving you crazy.

You needed more, faster, deeper and your legs started closing around his head but Hyunjin gripped your thighs, forcing you open as he kept eating you out like you were the last meal he was ever going to have.

You grinded against his face, his nose kept pressing against your clit as he fucked you with his tongue and soon your legs were shaking.

You kept him pressed against you and he moaned into your pussy, making out with your lower lips and you were losing your mind.

It didn't take much longer for you to explode on his face and tongue and Hyunjin eagerly licked it all up.

"Fuck." you groaned as he lifted up, licking around his swollen lips.

He looked at you as if he still wasn't satiated, as if he was going to devour you whole and at that moment you wanted him to.

"I could do that for hours." he whined, hand gripping at his obvious bulge.

"Why didn't you?" you smirked, still breathless.

"I wanna fuck your little pussy until it's shaped like my cock." he said as he pulled his length out, making you whimper and gasp at his words.

He gave himself a few tugs and you stared at his pretty cock, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

He gripped your panties and pulled them off before standing closer to you.

"H-Hyunjin!" you moaned when he pressed his tip on your folds.

"Gonna be a good doll and take it?" he smirked and you nodded.

He chuckled before pushing in, making you moan loudly as your nails dug into the table beneath you.

It wasn't the most comfortable thing to lay on but the feeling of Hyunjin stretching you with his cock and filling you up so perfectly made your mind cloudy.

He leaned closer to you and you gripped at his arms immediately as he held your hips, thrusting into you semi-fast.

"F-fuck..." you moaned, already on edge and it was embarrassing.

"How many times have you fantasized about me, hm babygirl?" Hyunjin smirked as he pressed himself closer to you, his cock massaging your cervix as his happy trail rubbed against your skin.

You opened your lips to speak as he held your hip, his other hand lifting up to put your hair behind your ear.

Before you could answer, your pussy clenched around him and you came all over his cock, tears flooding your eyes instantly.

"You came already?" he laughed mockingly as you dug your nails in his shoulders.

"I- I-" you were about to actually cry. This has never happened to you.

"It's okay doll. I know you're desperate for my cock. I think that makes you even cuter." he smirked as he started fucking you harder, the table with all the plates and glasses clattering.

"Ah!" you moaned repeatedly, not able to form any coherent words or sentences as he fucked you dumb on your kitchen table.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him as Hyunjin continued pounding into you, leaning closer again so he could grunt in your ear as you touched his soft short hair again, at this point the new look was making you feel even more aroused.

"I knew this pussy was greedy for my cock. Look how she's sucking me in." he looked down at where his length disappeared inside you so you followed his eyes, whimpering when you got the visual of his cock covered in your white cream fucking in and out of you.

"Shit!" you clenched around him again as he looked up at you.

"You gonna cum for me again?" he smirked, fucking you with even more force, the plates were dangerously close to the edge of the table.

"Y-yes!" you whimpered, completely dizzy and out of your mind as you squirted around his cock, your pussy gripping him so tightly that Hyunjin couldn't help it as he twitched inside you.

You scratched at his back as he dug his nails into your hips, filling you up with spurts of hot cum.

A crash startled you as he lazily fucked into you, trying to hold onto his high as long as possible and both of you looked up, seeing that one of the plates had fallen on the floor, smashing into pieces.

"Oh." Hyunjin groaned as he caged your head with his arms before he leaned down to kiss you, pressing his wet body against yours.

Both of you were sticky and wet and you couldn't believe you just let your hot roommate fuck you on the table in your kitchen.

He pulled out and chuckled at the mess.

"Wow you did a number on my back." Hyunjin noticed his reflection in the window, his back red with scratches.

"That's cause you didn't have any hair I could pull on." you smirked as you sat up.

"The way you held onto me I wouldn't have any left." he smirked back and you slapped his arm, giggling at him.

"I take it your really like my new hair." he leaned his hands on the table, caging you in again.

"I really like you." you said, your face heating up.

"I know you do, doll. Why do you think I've been teasing you? I was just waiting for you to finally react." he winked and you wanted to smack him but he caught your hand and held it.

"I really like you too." he said before kissing you.

"We should clean up the mess." you said as you leaned back.

"We should. After round two. Or more. Who knows." Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows before lifting you up in his arms and making you squeal as he carried you towards your bedroom.

You were in for a long night.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @jeonginslefthand @laughatdanger @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @simpforleeknaur @schniti-is-in-the-house

[dreatopia]

What do I do? |  Paige Bueckers x fem!Reader

 Warnings: Smut!!! (but not in the way you think...)

 A/n: This is my first time writing anything on here so be nice! I got inspired by Sza for this and tbh i might just keep up the Sza theme for all of these stories... if I end up writing more. Enjoy!!

 “Last night, you called on accident. heard you fucking on the other end.”

Paige:

I heard the phone buzz on the nightstand, its glow illuminating the dim room. Lost in the moment, I almost ignored it, but I let my curiosity get the best of me. Reaching over, I glanced at the screen and saw the name—her name. 

"Why the hell is she calling me?" I muttered, sliding out from under the sheets and grabbing the phone.  I swiped to answer, my heart pounding. "Hey, what's up," I said, trying to keep my tone as normal as possible—even though I was internally shaking. What I heard next should have made me hang up immediately, but I didn’t. For a moment, there was only silence, followed by faint breathing and muffled voices in the background. Then I heard her voice. 

"Ohhh fuckkk…" I heard the familiar sounds of her moans, and suddenly my own breath started to become shallow. I froze in place. She must've called on accident, I was sure. I should hang up, but I really didn’t want to. I’d missed the sweet sound of her moans, especially when they were laced with my name. At this point, she was muttering incoherently—a name I didn’t understand—a name that wasn’t mine.

"Yes, just like that, Audrey…"

I felt my knuckles turn white, my jaw tensing with anger. Who the fuck is Audrey? The phone sat on my bed, and I listened, consumed by pure, seething rage. I could hear that bitch on the other end, talking to her, but it was nothing like how I would’ve done it. I would’ve told her how good of a girl she was being for me- how she was the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen. But Audrey? She wasn’t doing any of that.

I felt like a freak for listening, but I couldn’t stop. I needed to hear her finish, to know if she was as good as I was.

My chest tightened as I got lost in the sound of her moans—even though they weren’t for me. My hands betrayed me, slipping down my pants and into my folds. I muted myself, not wanting my own moans to be heard. My fingers found my clit while my other hand cupped my breast. I can’t believe I’m getting off to my ex moaning for another girl.

But I couldn’t stop.

I heard her getting closer, her breaths quickening. Something sounded off, though, like she was faking it. A smirk tugged at my lips at the thought of her pretending. If I were there, she wouldn’t have to fake a damn thing.

Except I wasn’t there. We weren’t fucking. Instead, I was fucking myself to the sound of her. How pathetic.

I didn’t let that thought stop me. The closer she got, the faster I moved, slipping a finger inside myself. Her name escaped my lips as I wished it was her finger instead of mine.

“Oh, fuck, yeah… That feels so good,” I whispered, imagining her right here with me.

As if on cue, I heard her voice, shaky and breathless.

“I’m gonna cum.”

Her words pushed me over the edge.

“Yeah, baby, doing so good for me,” I murmured, my voice breaking as the orgasm washed over me. My body buzzed with pleasure I hadn’t felt in so long.

Through the receiver, I heard her staggering breaths as she came down from her high. Reality hit me like a brick.

Grabbing my phone, I hurriedly hung up. I already felt crazy for staying on as long as I did. My eyes grew heavy, and exhaustion consumed me. I fell asleep with one thought in my mind—the girl I let go.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of my phone dinging.

It was her.

R: Why does my phone say we were on a call for 20 minutes?

Fuck.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Paper Pirates (Conclusion)

MDNI

Shanks x f!reader

Summary: An unconventional member of an unconventional crew, you finally solve your captain's equation.

Warnings: Smut, fingering, piv, swearing, smoking, allusions to power imbalance

A/N: Merry Christmas and happy holidays! - Ya filthy animals. Thanks for all the support! I have another Shanks piece brewing (a genuine one-shot, even!) that will hopefully see the light of day in the coming week. Til then: stay tuned, drink water, kiss someone you like, and survive the holidays!

Shanks is, as ever, a bonfire on a winter night. Blazing bright and beautiful. A human beacon with a smile so bright it made his hair dull by comparison. He should be ridiculous, maybe even an object of pity with his scarred face and missing arm, but he’s confidence given legs – legs in ridiculous printed trousers, even.

He holds court in the bar closest to the docks. He’d swaggered ahead with all your worldly possessions under his arm, chatting up passing locals. You’d followed, drowning in his wake. The storm inside you didn’t touch him.

You followed him here, met up with the crew after picking open you scabs so he could see how deep the infection ran, and now you’re once again ducking under too many waving hands and wondering how the hell these killers and thieves smile so readily. As he guzzles sake and laughs with Lucky Roux, he feels farther away than ever. Memories are easier to hold close. Now you can only calculate the gulf between your understanding and his plans.

The sea between your feelings and his easy charm.

This must be what a cuckoo chick feels when it realizes it has the wrong feathers.

Cheering voices shake the tavern walls, and you sit among the merry-makers, pretending to enjoy yourself. But you know your voice would come out wrong if you joined in. There’s a reason you never fit the atmosphere aboard the Red Force. Even when they were trying to be kind, your comrades must’ve sensed something strange had hatched in their midst. An intruder in the crow’s nest, so to speak.

You sit, stewing in your own self-pity, taking the barest sips from your glass. You can’t afford to be drunk. Not tonight. Not after your conversation with Shanks.

Maybe things have never been easy between you and the Red Hair Pirates, but everything spiraled after you revealed yourself on a tide of rum and fatigue. Drinking is a solitary activity now. No way in hell will you make things worse. You still hope, a little desperately, for an amicable separation.

You spill your drink twice, fetching refills to keep up appearances.

That game ends when Beck joins you. He lands across the table, filling the corner where you settled with the excuse of eating away from flying elbows and table dancing. The stew smelled so appetizing every other time you passed the place, but you’re struggling to do it justice. Doesn’t help that it gets colder with every bite.

Still makes a marvelous diversion from Beckman, though.

Until he opens his big, stupid mouth.

“Hongo seen the wound yet?”

Which wound? The time you shot yourself with your own big, stupid mouth in his company or the bullet you caught during your year or isolation?

“No wound.” You shovel a spoonful in your mouth, buying a moment of peace. “Just a scar. And he’s threatened me with a thorough exam tomorrow.”

“Shame. Earned your first major scar of on your own.”

He makes it sound like your fault somehow, and that grates. Your tolerance is growing thin, and you haven’t spent more than ten minutes in each other’s company tonight.

It isn’t your fault they left you behind. As always.

It wasn’t your fault the Marines fucked up a good thing. As always.

It sure as hell wasn’t your fault that you got shot in one of the most chaotic battles you’d ever seen.

The world turned and you clung on where you could.

You wonder if Beckman even remembers what it’s like to have no one at his back, no ship to rely on.

He taps out a fresh cigarette. “Would’ve been an opportunity to celebrate.”

You laugh as he lights up, almost genuinely. “Like you’ve ever needed one.”

If the crew celebrated every first scar acquired on the sea, they’d never stop drinking. But maybe they do. It would explain some things.

“Hn. It will be good to have you back on the ship. Never enough good crew.”

“Oh please, we both know I’m average at best.”

“Do we?” Beckman didn’t take his eyes off his match. “Captain talk to you about his plan yet?”

Your spoon circles the bowl’s rim. The vibration shakes into your fingers as metal drags over rough crockery, but the men are too loud for you to hear the chime.

“We talked about a plan. Wasn’t really his.”

One more bite. Just to soak up the drip of booze you’ve choked down. Nothing’s ever as good as you hope these days, and you’re starting to wonder if it’s your own fault.

You push the meal away, hoping no one asks why there’s so much left. The folks behind the counter work hard, and you’d hate to insult a family recipe.

Beckman shakes out his match, and his cool eyes fix on you. For all the bodies in the room, his attention carves out a private space. You might as well be back on deck, drinking in the dark after they party’s over.

You lean back. Cross your arms.

“I do sometimes look up from the books, you know.”

If the Captain agrees to your plan, it will impact Benn’s role most. And you’re comfortable with him. He doesn’t ask for much. So long as you meet his expectations, he doesn’t demand a sunny smile and a performance. You’re grumpy bastards both, the eyes in the back, assessing and measuring. You don’t know what answers he’s looking for at your table in the corner, but you can guess a few questions.

“Shanks only brings aboard people who’ve already… become what they’re gonna be, I guess.” Just saying his name pushes your gaze to find him across the room.

It’s no wonder you fell in love. Doesn’t make you any less of a fool. “It’s why he doesn’t take on apprentices, I think. He knows he’d protect them. They’d get hurt. They’d have to, at some point, or they’d never push themselves. So, he always turns the young ones down.”

Benn doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t twitch. He blinks, slowly, like a cat, and a ribbon of smoke fades into the rafters. You look him in the eye.

“That’s how I know. I am what I am. Good at numbers. Entirely average in every other respect.”

“Tsk.” He looks away. Uses his boot to grind out an old cigarette that’s been cold on the floor since before you arrived. “You see the numbers, but you’ve put ‘em in the wrong places. A transcription error. Get out of your own way.”

Your arms cinch tighter around your chest, and the eye contact slips up and away. The rafters offer an escape. You study graffiti carved by a thousand daggers over endless decades by happy drunkards. Maybe they’re a map to sanity. A star chart of curses, confessions, and promises.

Are you even having the same conversation? It feels like everyone is pushing you to the brink of madness.

Nothing adds up anymore.

“You’re smart,” Beckman says. “And you’re strong.”

He kicks you under the table to reclaim your attention from the ceiling, and you jump, yelping. You regard him with a hint of shock. It’s minor violence, yeah, but it’s friendly violence. It’s a new level of engagement. The routine mandates sitting and snarking over more booze than you want to drink. Beckman isn’t the touchy sort.

The cigarette dips as he grins.

“Let yourself believe in something, girl.”

“I – I don’t – what?” Your tongue is too big for your mouth, and your teeth keep getting in the way.

Beckman glances away, and you follow his line of sight through the shouting, and the drinking, and the rowdy delight to your captain.

Shanks.

He’s in the middle of a story, slapping the bar for emphasis. Part of you wishes you could sneak closer. Hear his tall tales and measure them against his usual bullshit. Bask in his presence. But your overwhelming common sense tells you it would burn to sit beside him. Bonfires can catch.

Seas. He really is beautiful.

You remember who you are sitting beside.

The first mate chuckles, and your face burns.

Flailing to your seat, less graceful than most of the drunks, you cough up an excuse.

“I’m going for some air.”

Cigarette smoke chases you out the door, and you march away from the windows, turning the corner into an alley where you can breathe.

Fuck’s sake.

You press cold palms to your cheeks, horrified by the heat. Did your feelings show? Beckman clearly spied something to amuse himself with in your expression. Who else? How many witnesses to your shame would cackle at your expense in the morning? Maybe they’d just assume you stepped out to throw up. Because you had good manners, unlike the rest of them.

Not a bad thought, actually. You feel like hurling.

Night has settled over the town, and the locals are giving the pirates their space. Normal people have normal work to do in the morning, and even Shanks can’t chat the stars still. A breeze carries whispers of the sea into your hideaway, and you ache for the clean smell of deep water far from shore.

Your resolve cracks like an egg.

Slumping against the brick wall at your back, you accept your truth. It doesn’t even take half a bottle of rum this time.

You love Shanks. You crave life aboard the Red Force. The captain shared a taste of his world and instead of thanking him for the experience, you’ve gotten addicted. Demanding. It will never be enough. Given the chance, you’d die happy at sea, listening to the ship groan creaking lullabies.

You might die if they agree to your proposal.

If Shanks leaves you forever.

Even though that would be safest. That would be reasonable.

That would be good for the crew. For him.

“There you are.”

Think of the devil.

Shanks, framed in moonlight, invades your sanctuary. “Thought you might be sneaking off.”

You freeze. Your mind goes blank with the fear of being caught and the contrary urge to impress. Something spews out of your mouth, but you have no control over it.

“Just breathing.”

What a fucking stupid answer. Might as well tell him there was no air in the tavern when you noticed how his eyes sparkle when he laughs.

“Well.” He picks a spot on the wall across from you, mimicking your position. “Can’t have you stopping that, can we?”

An obligatory smile. You’ll give him whatever he commands, but there’s no joy here.

Believe in something.

Sure. Just like that. Drop all your defenses as you waited for the executioners’ spears.

Shanks smiles at nothing and glances towards the sky.

“Your thoughts aren’t too far from mine,” he says. “The old system needs adjustments. Can’t have you catching any more bullets with just your skin.” His eyes flick back to you, fixing you in place. You aren’t sure whether it’s your nerves or his haki.

“But we have very different ideas about your future with the crew.” His captain’s voice rings between the broken crates and empty barrels surrounding you. He’s found something he doesn’t like and he’s working out a solution, gearing up to state orders and fix his will on the future.

It’s a challenge. You rise to it.

“And what’s your great idea, then?” If he thinks he’s solved the equation better than you can, let him prove it.

“No more layovers. You stay on the Red Force like every other crewmate. The Den Den Mushi aren’t a bad idea, and I agree we’ll need new eyes and ears on shore, but your place onboard is essential.”

If people keep telling you things like that, you’ll start to believe it. You shake your head, knocking the warm fuzzies away before they rot your perspective like mold.

“I kind of doubt that. No offense.”

His eyebrows rise. “You think I’d have brought you on if I didn’t think you could cut it?”

“I mean,” you gesture broadly at the crew that isn’t there, “anyone can do the numbers with a little time and training.”

“Sorry to ruin your rosy view of the world, but they really can’t.” That captain voice is gone. He’s all smiles again. Teasing almost. Like he knows a secret and is watching you walk into a trap. “Not like you. Mathematics are strategy in your hands, and we need more of that. You have no idea how many times Building Snake complains when you aren’t around, or how often Lucky Roux moans about larder management. Your work touches everything.”

He leans forward, eyes glinting in the distant streetlights, and props his arm against the wall just over your head. Heat radiates from him and that stupid unbuttoned shirt he always wears. Can he feel the warmth curling out in answer from your own skin?

“And I agree with Lucky, by the way,” he croons. “You’re very scary.”

Your breath physically stutters. It’s entirely involuntary, and you bite your tongue, eyes wide as you struggle to read him. He still wants you on the crew. Alright. But what else?

Logic strains under the pressure of his regard.

You force yourself to breathe. Hopefully that will help you think. Unlikely, though, with the way Shank’s scent fills your head. It’s dizzying.

“It would still be a problem.” This isn’t reasoning. This is pleading.

His smile flicks to life, and like the helpless little moth you are, you prepare for it to scorch you.

“I don’t have a problem with it.”

One of his feet slides forward, not quite invading your space, but close. His toes linger in the gap between your feet, suggesting a path of navigation you know will take you past whirlpools and monsters.

He doesn’t get it. A quick pity fuck won’t fix this.

“It’s easy to ignore feelings you don’t have, Captain, but it would be a problem for me.” There’s nowhere to look but his eyes or his pecs, so you swallow your jagged anxiety and focus on his face. A strong twitch would bring you together, you’re that close. He deserves a punch. But that might just be an excuse to touch him. And you’d rather do that softly. Fuck.

“If we’re going to talk about it, then let’s get to the point.” There isn’t much space to draw yourself up, but you try, and you don’t miss the way his lips twitch. You want it to make you angry, but the rage just won’t kindle. “I caught feelings. That’s my fault, and you’ve been more than gracious about it, but I meant what I said, and if the best thing for the crew – for you – is to peel off, that’s what I’m going to do.”

That’s it. You’ve said your piece. Now he can make his move as captain. Chide you. Dismiss you. Laugh. Your eyes shut, and you brace for words you don’t want to hear. If he’d just cooperated with your plan and let you distance yourself, maybe you could’ve –

Hair whispers over your face, and Shanks’ temple presses to yours.

Your eyes pop open. He’s right there. Right here. He wasn’t supposed to come closer.

He chuffs, and his breath rolls down your collar.

“So stupid.”

He kisses your forehead as you stand dumb and amazed.

The…fuck?

What?

His little chortle cracks into a hearty laugh, but it isn’t mockery or a mere diversion from your shame. He laughs all the time, for all kinds of reasons. But this one’s real. His shoulders shake with it.

“So smart. But so stupid.”

There must be a proper response to this. But it feels like your first meeting all over again. Your decisions have been upended, and it’s all his fault.

But it’s a good thing. Isn’t it? Wasn’t it even back then, when he arguably ruined your life and turned you into a pirate?

It isn’t bad.

But it can’t be real.

Even though he’s filling your senses, and you’d never dare hope for something like this, let alone imagine it.

But –

Cigarette smoke wafts down the alley with Beckman’s shadow as he turns the corner. “You both are. Makes you well suited.”

The glowing tip of his cigarette is shockingly grounding. The bright red is familiar. It isn’t the romantic, pale moonlight or the dim yellow streetlights that cast everything in chiaroscuro. That’s really Beckman. This is really happening.

Your soul and mind slam back into your body with the violence of a shipwreck. Your defenses splinter, and it feels like your whole chest cracks open to put your heart on display, leave it pulsing and naked for a careless pirate’s strike.

Oh, holy shit.

You have absolutely no idea what your expression is doing at the moment, but Shanks leans even further in, letting his cloak block you from his first mate’s view. His lips hover by your ear.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Do you trust me?”

Trust. Beyond his role as captain. Shanks the man. Shanks the man who said he doesn’t have a problem with your feelings. Shanks the man who doesn’t have a problem with your feelings and dropped a kiss on your head while crowding you against the wall in a dark alley.

Simple answer, really.

“I guess I do.”

He pulls back and grins like a gods damned shark.

“All I needed to hear.”

For the second time that night, he rips the ground from under your feet and flips your world on its head.

Fairly literally, this time.

Between one fluttering heartbeat and the next, he’s ducked, thrown you over his right shoulder and launched out of the alley. Straight into the air. Wind rips tears from your eyes, and your hair stings where it lashes against your skin.

Backman and the tavern shrink below, and gravity yanks on your stomach.

“Shanks!”

His laughter rumbles through his shoulder into your belly. He must’ve been expecting to sacrifice an eardrum to your shriek, and whatever he’s getting from this must be worth it. To him at least.

You’ve only seen him sky walk once or twice, one of many abilities he stores under good humor in case of bad weather. Since the Red Force practically demands fair weather by its very presence, you haven’t seen him break out the weatherproofing often.

Nails sinking into his cloak, your mind blanks on adrenaline. There are no equations in freefall.

Just as you begin to lose altitude, he steps again, and you howl, trying to sink into the man’s flesh. You’re like a cat frantically trying to cling to a human raft.

He touches down on the deck of his command ship, and you can’t unlock your knuckles from where they’ve knotted into his clothes. Just as well, because he doesn’t take his arm from around your knees. A few steps bring him to the captain’s quarters. A kick opens the door. A second kick closes it. And then – finally – he helps you slide down from his shoulder.

Your legs are boneless. You refuse to let go. Your dignity hangs by the thread count of his clothing.

“I thought you trusted me?”

Looking up, you meet his shit-eating grin, and you pant in lingering terror and growing rage. “Fuck you, Shanks.”

He’s practically glowing, he’s so happy. Cackling in glee, he falls back into a wide chair, pulling you to sit across his lap, your back supported by his remaining arm.

Shaking the hair from his eyes, he beams at you. Like you’re finally in on the joke.

“I think I need to keep you closer. Hard to take care of me from so far away, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He isn’t wrong. The distance between you swelled like an ulcer, a terrible little fear you couldn’t help worrying as you scanned the newspapers and bounty posters for an update. For proof he was alright. Safe. Well.

But as the ringing fades from your ears and you take stock of where you’re sitting, you’re afraid to add up the final sum.

“Captain – Shanks.” You catch yourself. His hand rests on your knee, and because you have no idea where to put yours, you clutch one fist to your chest and let the other settle over his wrist.

What is happening? A black and white answer is all you want. You can set a course if you can just find the difference between north and south.

“What is this?”

His nose traces your jaw, and you turn into the contact as eager butterflies cannibalize the anxious moths banging around in your gut.

“What do you think?” He’s lured you close enough, and he steals a kiss. A satin brush of desire that conjures a sigh from his chest. Warm eyes find yours as they blink open, like sunset at sea. “It was never your problem. It’s my fucking problem, too.”

Whether or not he’s lying, there’s only one good response to that.

You know what to do with your hands now.

Taking his jaw, you pull him into another kiss. A proper one that delivers on all the restrained promise of the first. His grip rises to your waist, pulling you into his chest as his lips tattoo his feelings over yours. You’re far from a blank page, but you doubt you’ll ever be able to read old notes under the bold script he prints.

He pulls back to breathe, and he smiles under the little pecks you pepper over his face. Skilled fingers explore everything he can reach, and you know you’ve gotten too close to the bonfire. You’re starting to melt.

“I didn’t mean to leave you for so long,” he murmurs.

When his hand wanders over your chest, firm enough to spark every nerve to life, your head falls back, and he takes advantage. He mouths along your neck, around your ear as he continues.

“At first, I wanted to prove to myself that I could be good, that I wouldn’t take advantage of you. Be a responsible captain.”

He squeezes a breast, and the jolt rushes down your spine, trapping itself between your legs. Red hair twists between your fingers as you desperately explore him in return. He’s too busy talking and tasting to kiss.

“Wanted to give you room to breathe. To come to your senses.”

The wandering hand drifts. Smoothing over your sternum and down your belly, spreading over your trousers’ fastening.  

“But then one thing led to another, and Beck handed me your bounty poster.”

It shouldn’t surprise you that Shanks has a motormouth, even as a lover. His words touch as skillfully as his hand, though, and you’re drunker than you’ve ever been on rum. He doesn’t have to be good. Whatever he wants, he can have. You’ve been a cold pile of kindling for an age. He’s set you blazing to match his heat.  

His touch lingers on the buttons, and you kiss whatever parts of him you can reach. The crown of his head. His temple. You map his shoulders with curious fingertips, pushing under the collar of his loose shirt. He listens to your cues.

The first button pops free.

“I have no doubt you could go out on your own.”

The second button.

He slips his hand under your knee, pulling your leg to straddle him, your back to his chest.

“Make a name for yourself as a pirate. Terrify the world with your numbers and your revolver. But I couldn’t bring myself to be happy for you if you did.”

Back up your thigh, over your hip. He lets you simmer, anticipating his next move. Even as he finally moves under your clothes, he pauses short of the goal, and you whimper. Your head rests against his shoulder, allowing him every piece of you he desires, and he nips your earlobe.

Drunk off him as you are, he wants you to hear every word that comes next.

“I want you to be my pirate.”

Calloused fingertips creep between your folds, and you immediately roll your hips, chasing him the way you’ve wanted to for so long.

He grazes your clit in passing, and your back arches. “I am. I’ve always been yours, you idiot. Please, Shanks!”

Boyish giggles trail over your flesh as he finally touches you, strokes you, finds the proof of your unquenchable infatuation. He hums, beyond happy with himself and the task in hand.

“Poor thing. Have you been aching for me like this all year?”

You gather enough breath to pant, “Longer.”

He croons and licks the first dew of sweat blooming along your throat.

“Poor little pirate.”

Quick circles over your most sensitive spot push you staggering towards the precipice in record time. You’ve never gotten yourself off so fast. No partner has ever managed it, that’s for fucking sure.

But it’s him.

And he’s holding you, and all but purring as you flutter and jerk against him, and you want to…

One finger pushes in, and you buck, crying out. You’re still riding the cliff’s edge, and you aren’t sure if this is better or if you’re going to give him another scar for abandoning your clit. You whine, and the finger pulls back. It returns with a friend at a fresh angle that grinds his palm exactly where it belongs.

“Fuck.”

“Exactly.”

He searches, stretching you as he goes. When he finds what he’s looking for, your eyes all but roll back into your head. The both of you groan as you clench. He shoves you over the border, and you lose yourself. The orgasm rips your mind away, and you float, convinced you’d drift to the ceiling if he wasn’t holding you. Wasn’t still knuckle-deep, drawing out the fall.

By the time you settle back into your own skin, your toes and the tips of your fingers are tingling. He removes his hand and it only makes you want to cry a little.

Until he brings it to his lips. Sucks his fingers clean. Winks as you stare.

“To the bed?” He isn’t even trying to hide how excited he is. You can feel him, long and hard under your thigh, but the roguish glee in his eyes reveals more.

Once you’re in that bed, he won’t be letting you up for the rest of the night.

“Just a minute.” You pet his face, almost slurring as you explain. “I need to catch my breath.”

“Mn. Take your time then.” He nuzzles into your neck, and without the distraction of his fingers curling inside you, it tickles. A lot. His stubbly little beard rubs into your flesh, and you realize he’s doing it on purpose when you flinch and the hand resting over your belly squeezes. He draws his cheek over the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“Hmm? Something wrong?”

“N-no.” Fuck that. You can win this game. Even though you’re already biting your lip to keep the giggles locked in.

His whiskers move down your neck as he aggressively cuddles into the tender skin, hunting for the spot that will break your resolve. He finds it in the gap between shoulder and neck. Laughter tears out of you, and the hand on your belly dances to your side, setting you writhing on Shanks’ lap.

“Alright! Alright!” You go to stand, but his arm keeps you pinned.

“Thought you needed to catch your breath?” He doesn’t move away from your neck as he speaks, using his lips and breath to continue your torment.

“I yield,” you gasp. Tears gather in your eyes as you wriggle, trying to push your way free. “Let me go.”

The tickling fingers smooth flat again, and he stops attacking your neck. Only to place a chaste kiss there. “Never.”

But he does, letting you rise, sliding his grip down to hold your hand. He looks up at you, his heart in his eyes, and everything inside goes still.

It’s like sailing through a Calm Belt after passing through a storm. It’s the same ocean, but everything looks different.

Right.

This is it.

Safely at anchor, the ship barely moves, but there’s always that subtle sway that keeps the light moving. Your sea legs find it a thousand times firmer than shore. A dance that lulls and leaps. Home and heart.

His thumb rolls over your fingers.

Here’s the solution to the equations that never quite fit.

The solution brings your knuckles to his lips for a kiss, holding your gaze until you blink back to yourself.

“Take off some of those layers for me.” He’s all suggestion, in every sense, and nodding, you step back, letting your fingertips slide free of his hold.

You have no idea how to perform a striptease without making yourself ridiculous, so you stay practical. His attention keeps you safe, and you don’t look away as you shed your jacket, pull off your boots, tug away your socks. When your hands drift to your trousers, still unbuttoned from Shanks’ good work, his eyes dip to follow. The fabric falls, and his tongue runs over his lower lip, almost like he’s caught in thought. But his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide when he meets your eyes again, and you doubt there’s anything left in his head besides visions of what he’s about to do to you.

You begin working on your shirt buttons, and he stands. His shirt pulls smoothly over his head, a feat he performs gracefully even with a single arm, and your fingers shake, stumbling in their task as you appreciate the view. Golden skin and a warrior’s build. It isn’t even the first time you’ve seen him shirtless. Damn.

He basks under your appraisal, shaking back his hair and leaning his hips forward so there’s no mistaking his interest as he unbuckles his belt.

It dawns on you, as you struggle with your buttons, eyes lingering over inappropriate places, that it has been a very long time since you got this far. Romantically. With a man who’s clearly well endowed.

Math can be a cruel mistress. Even if physics isn’t your specialty, you understand some things about pegs and holes. Laws of volume and stretch. That sort of thing.

“Stop calculating.” He’s caught you. As usual. And he’s laughing you both past any anxiety. Easy as a strong wind under blue skies. “I can feel those damn numbers stealing your attention from me, and I’m a greedy, greedy pirate. I need it all.”

Your own grin catches, spreads.

A greedy pirate you can trust. Do trust.

Equations be damned. Shanks has always found a way to get what he wants, and you know he wants your pleasure as much as you want his.

He kicks off his sandals as he swaggers up to you and pulls you tight, banishing your calculations and concerns with a kiss. When his tongue begs entrance, you oblige, hurrying to meet him, eager to feel and touch and play in thrilling new ways.

You find the bed together. Or it finds you. Maybe, like Beckman, it has some secret understanding with the captain. A conspiracy to place you somewhere soft and vulnerable. Regardless, you fall back, never leaving your lover’s embrace.

Shanks is more than happy to finish with your shirt, making a show of slipping each loop free with his one hand. Everything else comes off in a rush. The man’s an octopus, groping, squeezing, and surrounding you like he has twice as many limbs as most men.

He has you on your back, bare, one leg hoisted over his shoulder. As he takes his time coating himself in your slick, a moment of clarity breaks through the crush of sensation.

“I really do want to take care of you.”

There’s no pause. He lets your words soak in, rumbling in satisfaction as he slowly breaches your entrance. He falls forward to rest on his forearm, covering you as he rocks in and out, creeping deeper like an incoming tide.

“Oh, you are. You’re taking such good care of me.”

He seals any further complaints away with a kiss, moaning and lapping into your mouth. There’s too much to parse into individual feelings. You’re so full, and he’s so warm. Pleasure thrums through you, and everything tangles into the press of bodies, the unspeakable intimacy of the act.

Some unknown time later, when you sneak a breath and a thought, you gasp, “Not fair.”

Wicked laughter answers, and he pushes deep, grinding up against your clit to chase away any idea of the world beyond how good he feels.

 “I’m your captain. Nothing about this is fair.” He bites your lip and moves faster, gleefully driving you to the brink of insanity once again.

Your body delights in his, and it fights to keep him as resolutely as your mind tried to escape. Every time you flutter and clench around him, his eyelashes flutter over his cheeks. The muscles over his back roll under your grip.

It’s strange and wonderful. A day ago, you expected him to abandon you to your sensible plans. Now, well, it’s a whole new world, isn’t it?

Whispers of his name pick loose strings from his control.

When you crash through your orgasm, burying your scream in his shoulder, he pounds you through it. His mouth moves, full of words he’s beyond articulating, and a groan from the depths of his soul shakes through the both of you as finds his own release.

He falls beside you, hair damp with sweat, meeting your pleasure-numbed eyes with a lazy smile.

“C’mere.”

His arm loops around you, pulls you back to his chest, and the afterglow hums over you like music.

Distant voices remind you of the crew outside Shanks’ quarters.

“I hope you know,” he mumbles, “you don’t have to worry about finding a spare hammock below decks ever again.”

He snuggles into your neck, and you stroke the arm anchoring you.

This dickhead.

How many crewmates saw the captain’s little show? How many put the pieces together after you both disappeared? How many heard you chanting his name?

Gods. You’ll have to find some energy to worry about that tomorrow.

Might be a good reason to get drunk, actually.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

AN: Have a good Christmas Eve if you celebrate, don't forget to put cookies out and most importantly, regardless of if you celebrate or not- Don't go licking any doorknobs!

CW: Public sex, garden sex, drunk sex, oral sex

Summary: You were at the most exclusive holiday party in all of Hell and it should have been a great time. Instead, you were in a dress you didn't feel good in and left by yourself. If you didn't have anyone to spend the party with, you'd make friends with the bartender. One thing lead to another and before you knew it, you were in the most depressed drink off with the King of Hell himself and needing to step outside for some air.

The Pride Manor Christmas party was a thing of legends. Only the highest powers in all of hell, not just the Pride ring, were lucky enough to snag an invitation. That made the sight of you and the other hotel guests stick out like a sore thumb. None of you had clothes nice enough to really fit in with the crowd. 

Charlie was more than eager to dress Vaggie up but it fell to Alastor to do the rest and… his enthusiasm was lackluster at best. The result was a dress that was also lackluster. 

You had tried to make the best of it, but the confidence just wasn’t there. The dress wasn’t ugly but… it didn’t feel like you. It was whatever. You had decided as you made your way to the bar. 

Every single person there was better than you, having a better time than you. Alastor disappeared after jabbing insults with the king, smile and laugh seeming to trail behind him. Vaggie and Charlie had each other. They were wrapped up in their hush hushed whispers, focused on nothing but eachother. Angel Dust was off with Husk, somehow managing to be the life of the party. Niffty was off somewhere, cleaning something. 

And you? You were alone in a dress that didn’t make you feel good enough to even try to socialize. 

The bar would be your friend. You sat down and ordered a shot, wanting to get a buzz going quickly. At least if you were buzzed, you wouldn’t feel so lonely. 

“That’s a strong choice,” the smooth voice of Lucifer came from behind you, startling you as he sat in the seat next to you. 

“Is that a problem, Your Majesty?” You forced a smile on your lips.

“Not for me.” He directed his attention to the bartender, ordering himself one of the same. “You’re not enjoying the party?”

“Oh!” Your smile grew strained. “I- Sure. I just don’t… It’s a lot of people.” 

You downed your shot, catching sight of Lucifer doing the same out of the corner of your eye. You ordered another, only for him to do the same. 

“Yeah.” He sighed, picking up the small glass and rolling it in his fingers. “It’s not actually my thing, but it’s tradition, and who am I to piss on tradition?” 

“You’re the King.” You almost laughed at the thought of the devil himself being hopeless in the face of tradition. “And the devil. Isn’t pissing on tradition your thing?”

“Not really.” He forced a smile, fingers running over the golden ring that had sat for centuries, marking the marriage that he still longed for. “The party was my wi-” he hesitated, cutting the word off before changing what he was going to say. “It was Lilith’s thing. Charlie lives for it every year. I wouldn’t take that from her.” 

“Oh.” You struggled to know what else to say, so instead, you downed your shot. Lucifer downed his right after you. Together, you ordered another. “Are you copying me?” 

“I’m just a man sitting at the bar drinking.” He smiled. “How do I know you’re not trying to copy me?”

You downed your drink as soon as it landed, just to watch Lucifer do the same. “What are you doing?” you finally snapped at him, feeling the heat of the drinks flowing through your veins. “Why are you bothering me?” 

He smiled softly at you. “Why are you not enjoying the party?” 

“Because your party fucking sucks,” you lashed out. It wasn’t your proudest moment. “It sucks and I don’t fucking know anyone here. I dont have anyone to drink with and the cherry on top is I look fucking ugly in my dress.” 

“Another,” Lucifer flagged the bartender, “Make mine double.” 

“Me, too.” You insisted.

“Don’t try to keep up with me, angel.” Lucifer warned, downing first one shot and then the next. 

“Don’t underestimate me,” you challenged and in that moment, you found yourself in what you very much hadn’t expected- a drink off with the king of hell himself. 

Shot after shot went down as your sour mood became a little lighter. The pace slowed as the time between shots was filled with the drunk chatter that was found in bars around the living world and in hell. 

“Oh,” you said as you leaned back, a smile on your warm face. “I think I need to get some air.” 

“Have too much to drink?” Lucifer teased as you stood, swaying on your feet. “Oh, shit.” He rushed off his stool after quickly downing the last of the shots in front of him. 

“I’m okay,” you said as his hand rested on your lower back. “Just need some air. Then I’ll drink you under the table.” 

“Right,” Lucifer said. “Let me help you out?”

“I don’t… I don’t need anyone’s help.” Your words slurred as Lucifer walked with you. “Having help is how I ended up in this ugly dress.” 

“Where are you going?” Lucifer asked as you marched intently off.

“Outside.” You looked over at him as if he was dumb.

“That’s not the way outside,” Lucifer laughed as he guided you in another direction. “There’s a garden this way. Do you want to see it?” 

“Are there ducks?” you asked as you let him lead you on the way, catching him by surprise. “Charlie said you like ducks.” 

“Char talks about me?” Lucifer’s smile brightened and your heart skipped a beat. He was a handsome man when he smiled. 

“Sometimes,” you shrugged as he guided you into the hall, the party fading into the distance as your heels clicked against the stone floors. “She loves you a lot. Like, a lot a lot.” 

“I love her a lot, too.” Lucifer smiled, guiding yo toward the large windows that looked out on an enclosed garden. 

“Oh, wow.” Your breath caught as you looked out on it. 

“Come on,” Lucifer held open the door. “Let’s get you some air.” 

The garden was magical, not just in its beauty but in the cool air that felt so much like that of a summer night in the living world that washed over you. Each breath you took seemed to clear your head as you walked deeper into the garden. Bushes and trees obscured the view from the windows. 

“Why don’t you like your dress?” Lucifer asked, as you walked with wide-eyed glee through his garden. It had been years, decades since he had brought another into the little slice of life he had created in the depths of hell. 

“Oh?” You looked down at yourself, running your fingers over the fabric. “It’s just- it’s not something I’d pick for myself. I- I think it doesn’t, I don’t know.” 

Lucifer laughed, quickly choking the sound off when he caught sight of the tears in your eyes. 

“Oh, no!” He rushed to wipe the tear from your cheek. “I think it looks- you look swimmingly in it. It looks wimming on you. Wimming! Fuck!” 

It was your turn to laugh as Lucifer stomped away from you. You followed, swaying on your feet as he stomped his way to the large tree that was the centerpiece of the garden. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, resting a hand on his back to steady yourself and offer comfort. “I just, I- you’re cute.” 

“You think I’m cute?” Lucifer smiled, turning to face you slowly. “I’m a damned mess and you think I’m cute?”

“Aren’t we all?” you teased. “Damned, I mean. That’s why we’re all here.” 

“Because of me.” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know, man, you seem pretty fuckin normal. You’re cute and goofy and just a dude.” 

“I’m the,” Lucifer swayed a little on his feet as he reached out for you, “I’m the most powerful being down here and you don’t think it’s my fault?” 

“No,” you said, laughing as you leaned against the tree for support. “I think humanity was fucked from the start. We’re fucked, man. Totally fucked up creatures because- you want to know why?” 

“Why?” Lucifer leaned against the tree. “Oh, wise one?” 

“Because you fucked up.” You poked his chest, leaning into him. “You know what we’re taught about you?” 

“What?” Lucifer said, enjoying the fact that you were simply talking to him like a man. 

“That you were the most perfect being. You were the more- the more- fuck, the more perfect than us and you fucked up. If you fucked up, then we were destined to fuck up too, so stop giving yourself so much credit. It’s fucking- you’ve got a big fucking ego.” 

“I’m the sin of pride,” Lucifer’s eyes flicked down to your lips. He knew it was wrong. You were drunk, but that didn’t stop him from hoping you would initiate something. If you did… maybe it wouldn’t be so wrong to follow your lead. 

No, he knew that was wrong. 

“You may be the sin of pride, but I want to commit the sin of lust with you.” You smiled wide, rather proud of your pickup line. Never in a million lifetimes did you think you’d be hitting on the king, the fucking devil himself, but you were. 

“I – you’re drunk.” Lucifer sighed, pulling his eyes away from you. 

“I’m not that drunk.” Your words slurred, but you stood up straight. Well, almost. “And I’m getting soberer by the minute. I haven’t- fuck, you don’t have to fuck me, but can you at least kiss me? I- I don’t know, just- I want to feel… feel maybe just not like this night is wasted?” 

“Wasted?” Lucifer cocked his head to the side. “Only thing wasted is you from trying to out drink-” 

You launched yourself at the king, wrapping your arms around him and knocking his hat from his head. Your lips sealed over his, cutting off his words. For a moment, he stood frozen, holding his hands out to the sides. Soft lips caressed his, melting his resolve. 

You pulled back, a wide grin on your face as you prepared to dance off and rejoin the party. It wasn’t that you felt better about the party or the dress. Lucifer had just made it clear he had no interest in fucking you as you were. If he wouldn’t, you’d find someone who would. 

Lucifer reached out, snagging your wrist before you made it more than a few steps. He pulled you back, wrapping his arms around you. Morals be damned, ethics be damned- it had felt good to be wanted, to be kissed, and he wanted more of that. 

He kissed you with hunger and passion that left you gasping for air. Nimble fingers made quick work of exposing your breasts, taking in the feel of them in his hands. He moaned at the soft points of your nipples, enjoying the way your body responded to the artificial cool air of the garden. 

You moaned as he pinched the pebbled bud. He devoured the sounds you had made, swallowing them as you arched into his body. It took only a few pulls of your fingers through his hair to reduce his neatly combed blond locks into a wild mess, falling in front of his eyes as he peppered your neck and chest in kisses. 

“Do you still want me?” Lucifer asked as he pushed his hips into you, working the hard shaft of his cock against the front of his pants. 

“Fuck,” you gasped, trying to get enough air into your lungs. “Please? I want you.” 

“Turn around,” Lucifer directed. “Put your hands on the tree.” 

“Oh, shit.” Instead of listening, you reached down, palming the hardness in his pants. 

Lucifer made quick work of undoing his pants and freeing his cock, disproportionately large for the shorter man. It shouldn’t have surprised you, not really. He was heaven’s most perfect angel. Of course, he would have a perfectly sized dick. 

You dropped to your knees, eager to wrap your lips around him. He was heavy on your tongue as you took him in your mouth for a moment. The salt of his skin coated your tongue as you ran it up and down the length of his shaft. Soft kisses collected the slick pre-cum that gathered at his tip. 

“Up,” Lucifer groaned out, “We don’t have a whole lot of time before someone will look for me.” 

As soon as you were on your feet, he spun you and pushed you into the tree. Eager hands gathered the skirt of your dress, bunching it up around your waist. Elastic dug into your hips for a moment as he ripped your panties down your legs. 

You bent over, giving the skirts a shelf of your back to rest on and presenting your glistening sex to him.

“Fuck,” Lucifer moaned out as he ran his hot, gold flushed head along your folds. “The sin is how limited our time is.” 

You moaned as he slowly spread your folds over his head, parting your walls. Time was short, but he knew just as well as you that the initial few moments were some of the sweetest of sex. There was little that compared to tight walls gripping him before they relaxed and made way. 

“Shit, you’re so- fuck.” You struggled to get your words out as he bottomed out, seating himself wholly within you. The stretch was nearly too much and yet that was what made it so amazing.

“Thanks,” he chuckled for a moment, letting your walls flutter and adjust to the intrusion. 

In what felt like seconds, Lucifer was pounding into you as your ankles struggled to spread wider, constricted by the tight rings of your panties. Rough bark scraped against your chest, biting into your nipples as you cling to the tree, using it as support. 

Each thrust into you had his balls slapping your clit. The head of his cock speared you again and again, working the coil within you tighter and tighter. You wished you could see him, see anything, but it took everything you had to hold on to the tree as the devil himself railed you. 

“Shit,” you gasped out, head falling back as he kept his relentless pace up. “Just like that.” 

“As you wish,” Lucifer said, cringing slightly at the line but changing nothing about the pace. 

Your cries grew louder and louder, whimpers, whines, swears, curses and praises all fell eagerly from your lips, making the sweetest music he had heard in decades. Fuck, he had forgotten how good it felt to be within someone, how good it felt to make someone feel good. 

“Are you close?” He huffed out each word, cock twitching with the threat of his own finish. 

“So close,” you whined as he wrapped his hand around your throat, pulling you back by the soft grip. The dominating move was all it took to send you over the edge, walls gripping his cock with renewed force. “Oh fuck. Oh god, oh god, oh god.” 

Lucifer laughed in your ear as his cock twitched, swelled, and then shot his essence into you. His thrusts grew sloppy, rhythm failing as he devolved from the arrogant devil into a gasping man, whimpering with pleasure as your walls milked him of what seed he had left. 

You leaned into lucifer as his cock twitched inside you, the last few spurts of cum painting your cervix. His chest rose and fell behind you, jacket buttons digging into the skin of your back. For a few sweet moments, you allowed yourself to indulge in the feeling of being in his arms. 

“We-” Lucifer sighed as your walls rippled around his softening cock, aftershocks of your orgasm whispering promises of more pleasure if he would only spirit you away. “We should get back to the party.” 

“Yeah.” You swallowed, trying to wet your throat, dried out from the gasping breaths. “We should.” 

Lucifer sighed as his cock slipped from the warm embrace of your hole. He straightened his pants, tucking his wet cock back inside. He nearly zipped himself up, focused more on the sight of your ass, skirt still tangled on your waist as you bent down and pulled your panties up. 

The wet gusset, soaked with your slick, smeared up your leg. Slick mixed with the trail of his cum leaking down your thighs. He could only focus on what he was doing when you stood up straight again, pulling the skirts of your dress so they would fall neatly around your legs. 

“Let me walk you back?” Lucifer offered his arm to you. 

After a moment of hesitation, you took it, allowing the king to wrap your arm around his forearm. He led the way out of the garden, pace slow and relaxed. They needed to get back to the party, but he didn’t want to rush away from your undivided attention. 

“I know you don’t like your dress,” Lucifer said as you stepped into the hall. “But I think you look mesmerizing in it. If you want something different, I can make you something else, if you’d like?” 

“I-” You looked down, smoothing your fingers over the fabric. “I don’t know. Alastor conjured it. It would but rude.” 

“Oh,” Lucifer laughed, spinning you into a circle. “That’s all the more reason to make you something you’ll feel as beautiful in as you look right now.” 

“My king,” you teased, resting your hand on his chest. “That’s far too much for your drunk party fuck.” 

Saying the words hurt more than you had expected. You pushed yourself away from him and walking toward the party. Instead of letting him see that for even a second you thought maybe it could be something more than that, you focused on the sway of your hips and the look you gave him over your shoulder, daring him to chase you. 

What you didn’t see when you turned back around was the longing on Lucifer’s face or the way he ran his fingers over his wedding ring. 

Perhaps… this year, for Christmas he would give himself a present…

Perhaps he would gift himself permission to take that ring off and move on. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[vengefultakeover]

Napping Roomie

I came home to my roommate closing the fridge wearing nothing but a pair of blue underwear. He did this often, not that I cared. In fact, I actually really enjoyed it. I'd come home to him in a pair of sweatpants, free-balling it with a semi while playing video games and every time he'd make a successful goal or a multi-kill he'd celebrate while that snake pressed against the fabric. Plus, I couldn't complain because he really helped me when I was in a tight spot - offering up his spare room when I couldn't find a place to stay while I was in school.

"Hey man, I was just about to take a nap." He said, walking towards his room.

"No problem, just getting home. I hope it's alright, but I invited someone over in a little."

"No worries, man. I sleep like a rock." He laughed, waving me off and disappearing into his room.

It took thirty minutes for my friend to arrive. Jerry was a larger guy, tall and stocky, and he was my best friend. He brought over some groceries he wasn't using since he mentioned he was going on a trip. Not sure where, figured he'd tell me sooner or later.

"Is Devon here?" He asked, putting more items in the fridge and then some dry goods in the pantry.

"Yeah, he's taking a nap. He looked tired when I came home."

"Oh, sick. I've got something to show you." Jerry walked over to the door and poked his head inside. He closed the door quietly with the biggest shit eating grin I had ever seen.

"What is wrong with you, dude?" I asked with a laugh. He waved me over and I joined him. He started to strip leaving his clothes outside the door before going in. "Hey, what the hell?"

"Shhh, just follow me." He started to creep into the bedroom and I protested with quiet huffs before following him in. We closed the door and could see Devon passed out on his bed. His cock was poking out one leg and then his balls the other. This was enough to make my cock twitch and I felt a warmth at my neck.

"Watch this." Jerry went around the bed and rubbed his hands together before reaching for his cock. I was wide eyed and hard, but frozen in fear and confusion. I watched him pull his thick meat out from his Calvin's and then shove a hand right into the tip. I don't mean like the tip of it, or even a finger, he shoved his whole hand inside. Devon's cock grew hard instantly, his hand making it bulge. His face shifted, turning into slight discomfort, but nothing that was going to wake him up. Then I watched him shove his other hand inside. His arms were suddenly deep inside his cock, the thick rod growing in size as he wriggled his way in. 

"What the fuck?" I gasped.

"Don't worry. He's fine." Jerry whispered. He bent forward, sticking his head between his arms and then pushing his head into his tip. Devon started to writhe, but Jerry kept going. Jumping up and in, his body looked like a cartoon as it expanded his cock and then his body. his stomach bloated, his chest puffed up, even his legs expanded as Jerry disappeared and started pushing himself into each of his limbs. Devon's eyes fluttered and his mouth hung open, a bit of drool coming out as Jerry made his body his home and suddenly it stopped. Devon's musculature returned to the toned sexy body that was napping there before. Devon popped an eye open and that same shit eating grin I had seen on Jerry before appeared on him. 

"What the fuck just happened?" I held my legs together to keep the boner from showing.

"Just a little something I picked up from a witch on the corner." He hopped out of the bed and wobbled once he got to his feet.

"Holy shit this is wild." I said, reaching out and touching him.

"Oh fuck that feels good." Jerry said through Devon, shivering.

"Sorry, I -"

"No. Keep doing it." He pulled my hand close to him and then grabbed my other hand. He pressed them against his chest and I squeezed, feeling the muscular mounds under my palms. Flexing, he pulled me back onto the bed and then wrapped his arms around me, going in for a kiss. I fell to the side, making out with my roommate who was now being controlled by my best friend. I could feel him press against me, the blue underwear slowly being peeled off as I reached down and grabbed a hand full of his plump ass. I couldn't control myself, as we made out I kept pushing myself closer, grinding my hips into him until he was turning around. 

"Fuck me as hard as you want?" He said, reaching back and squeezing his ass. I leaned into him, kissing his back as I aligned the tip of my cock with his hole. I was slow to push into him, my cock head popping in and I could see his back muscles react. 

"Fuck yes." We said in unison as I pushed my whole shaft inside. I let it throb inside, leaning over and laying on him as he was on all fours. He tensed his hole, making me whimper. I pushed myself up, held onto his hips and started thrusting hard. Each slip out and in again felt better than the last and he arched his back in pleasure. Both of us moaned as I slammed myself against him, feeling the euphoric feeling sneak up on me and suddenly I was exploding inside of him. Filling up his hole, we both moaned and the sensation of me busting inside of him caused his cock to erupt, leaving a wet streak along the sheets.

"Holy shit. I didn't think things would feel this crazy inside another person." Jerry said, panting as he rolled over.

"That was amazing." I was also panting, a bit more aggressively from the thrusting.

"I should probably hop out of him. I feel him waking up." Jerry said, jumping up and squatting bit. I watched a hand suddenly appear from his ass, grabbing ahold of his ankles and pulling himself out. The wet squelching was insane as Jerry appeared as his naked self once more. Devon passed out and I pushed him onto the bed. I quickly pushed him into the same position he was in and then met Jerry outside of the door as he was getting ready.

"We should do that again some time." He said, slipping on his shirt.

"Oh, we should do it again and again. that was incredible." I could hear stirring from inside and we ran over to the couch, turning it onto something random. With one final glance at each other, Devon walked out and he had no idea what had just happened between us.

[henneseyhoe]

Home For Christmas

Terry Richmond x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: none, lil bit of angst if you squint, fluff, short.

SUMMARY: Your husband, Terry, promises to be home to you and your daughters for Christmas, but will he really?

✮✮✮✮

The snow outside lit up the yard in the moonlight, frost nipping at the windowsill the more the weather dropped. There wasn’t a soul outside, not even the little black cat you saw wandering around late at night. Even she couldn’t be bothered with the harsh cold.

The house was warm and so was the hot chocolate you cuddled in your hand, but nothing could warm you the way you needed to be warmed. Nothing could make you feel the Christmas spirit you wanted to feel.

You missed your husband like crazy and your kids did too. They could feel the sadness radiating off of your body and it didn’t make it better for them, but you couldn’t help it. Terry had been stuck in another state for work, promising that he’d be back on time for Christmas, yet, he hadn’t shown and it was 5 hours to 12.

The roads had closed and from what you heard, till further notice. Flights were being canceled left and right, hell, you were nearly snowed into the house, only a small walk way you shoveled earlier prevailing, but even that was starting to freeze over a bit.

“Mama” Your 7 year old daughter, Tiana, called for you, looking up from her laying position in your lap.

You gave her your attention, a soft smile spreading on your face. She looked just like you when she was upset. You felt bad that she was sad too, but it was the cutest face she made that made you smile.

“I thought daddy said he’d be here by nowww” She whines, her baby sister, Jasmine, almost immediately getting annoyed as this was her fifth time mentioning what she thought was the obvious.

“Ana, you have to wait! Mommy told you already” Her little finger pointed at sister with agitation on her face that made you wanna laugh, but that’d just get you scolded by ‘little miss thinks she’s mommy’ too and you didn’t think you had the energy to correct it tonight.

She had so much attitude before she even turned 4, all of it inherited right from Terry when it came to people she cared for the most, a trait of loyalty you were sure Terry also took part in.

Before they could even get to arguing, you set your mug down on the windowsill and gathered them both up next to you, their matching onesies getting all bunched up from mixing in one spot for so long.

“Aht, cut it out you two. Daddy means well when he tells us things, but…maybe he just got the times wrong. If he isn’t back by tomorrow, then we’ll just have to forgive him, okay?”

Your youngest’s eyes quickly fill with tears that pull at your heart strings, her lip poking up with a quiver only Terry could settle at the moment. “So he’s not coming back tonight?”

You sigh. A few more hours of this and you were sure to cry with her.

“How about we wish really hard and go to bed, then see what happens?” Your children were quick to try and disagree while attempting to flee, but you swooped them up into your arms anyway and cuddled them close, giving them their nightly kisses.

Your back may be aching tomorrow from sharing a couch with two children, but they convinced you earlier to be around here to ‘catch santa’ and you couldn’t help but give in with the possibility of Terry not being here and upsetting them further.

Hours ticked by and you counted almost all of them, going in and out of sleep until you were knocked out of your cycle by the sound of boots against hardwood. Your eyes cracked open, seemingly at the same time as the mini-me’s laying on top of you, that followed by a gasp from both of the girls.

You and the kids almost leap from your seats, the sun outside the floor to ceiling windows in the living room making an attempt to blind all three of you, but all of you were on a mission that couldn’t be ruined by sleep still being in your eyes.

“DADDY!!!” The screams of joy were so loud from the kids that you would have thought they were awake all along, not a speck of grogginess in their voice.

Terry toppled over with both of them jumping for his legs, but he still managed to hold them properly, giving them both kisses on their chubby cheeks that they happily accepted. You had no idea how he pulled something like this off, not to mention bringing the rest of their presents from ‘santa’ in without disturbing anyone’s sleep.

“Really?” You ask in disbelief, Terry giving you a shrug before sitting up, sending the two off to pick a present out to open.

You were still curious, a shrug not being enough for you. “How?” You squint, helping him up from the floor.

“Christmas magic, baby. I always find a way”

He smiles and kisses your lips, then leads you to the tree. Again, the explanation wasn’t enough.

“Oh, please! Don’t gimme that, I’m not five, Terry” You complain, pulling his hand off of yours to demand a direct answer.

Terry sighs and looks at you with his arms now crossed, still happy despite being pressed before you even moved to give him a kiss first. “If I told you, you’d call me a liar”

“Well…” You wait, tapping your foot to add on effect.

There was a hint of childishness in his smile, you already knowing this wouldn’t be the answer you wanted either. “Santa brought me”

“….Nigg-”

Before you could even call out bullshit, You were quickly shut up by the presence of your kids, the both of them gasping in awe at what they just overheard being revealed to you.

“You know what…fine” You throw your hands up in defeat and chop it up to what he said, Christmas magic.

✮✮✮✮

As the children settled down and played with their toys, you became stuck to your husbands side like you were glued there, your arms wrapped around him. You admired him while he admired the kids, your tummy fluttering with butterflies similar to when you two first met.

“I really hope you know…” You started, bringing his attention to you.

“Hm?”

“That I love you and your determination to always come through for us, especially your kids, makes me love you even more”

He smiles brightly, his heart skipping beats. “I’m supposed to. Not that I don’t want to also, but I hate to see yall upset. Plus, I couldn’t miss their faces opening their new ballet shoes”

You smile back at him and stand on your tip toes for a kiss, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

“Oh, and I was gonna let them jump you if you were late. They told me not to tell you” You say after pulling from your fifth kiss that day.

“Wooow, straight out the gate? No warning?”

“Mhm! nothing but elbows as soon as you walked through that door”

Terry shook his head with a laugh, already plotting on catching the two off guard with a little roughhousing session.

“It be your own kids”

“Yup. May have told them to get a little lick in for me too”

You shrug, letting him go and walking off into the kitchen, knowing he’d follow like a stray.

“Damn, mama too? What’d I do to her?”

Wrapping his arms around you while still in motion, he mimics your footsteps all the way to the counter.

“Leave me with two hard heads for a week. I got something for you later though”

He smiles against your neck then playfully bites at you, your chin tucking in to protect yourself.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Mrs.Richmond”

✮✮✮✮

💌- Merry Christmas! i hope yall enjoyed yalls holiday. Here’s something short and sweet cause i love a good family fic lmao. <3

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Stares at you and very politely requests for some transfem soda headcanons

Oh hell yeah I’d love to

(tw for mentions of period-typical transphobia)

Transfem Soda h/cs

-She keeps the name Sodapop.

-She worries sometimes that Mom and Dad would be disappointed in her, to which Pony or Darry will remind her that “Mom and Dad always said they wanted a girl, they’d be proud.”

-She loves to dress all feminine and whatever, but on a day to day basis she dresses more or less like she always has.

-Tulsa is big enough that outside of their neighborhood/school, most people don’t know her as she was before. So on dates, Steve likes to take her to the other side of town, away from all the people who know her as “Soda the boy”. She loves it, it’s so freeing to have folks see her as herself. 

-Speaking of Steve- he’d just finally accepted that he was gay when Soda started experimenting w/ gender stuff. (Turns out he wasn’t gay, he was bi and so in love with Soda that he couldn’t like anyone else, girl or guy.) But it definitely sends him spiraling into another crisis for a bit- he’s supposed to be gay, why’s the thought of Soda as a chick so hot?!

-Steve’s real supportive tho. Back when Soda was just calling it “crossdressing” he’d buy her things to experiment with- yk, like dresses, heels, makeup, etc. Part of that was selfish since Steve was sorta (very) into it, but it mainly stemmed from an earnest hope that Soda would feel more like herself

-That “crossdressing” phase lasted a few months, so when she eventually did come out to him as a girl, he wasn’t completely surprised. He’s who she came out to first, and it means a lot to him that she trusts him so much.

-Coming out to Darry and Pony tho is…harder. She knows they’ll always love her, but she feels like they’ll see her differently. 

-She tells Darry on accident. She’d just come home from work, feeling shitty because someone called her “such a nice young man”. She was tearing up about it, which made her feel worse, and then Darry showed up, home from work early. He got her to explain what happened, and the interaction went like this:

“Wait…so you don’t want folks to call you nice??”

“...I don’t want them to call me a man…”

Darry hugged her and said “Soda…you got somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

And it was all over from there. She just spilled.

-When Ponyboy gets home, he’s surprised, a little weirded out, but mostly glad Soda’s happy. Neither him or Darry really get it at first, but they know she’s happy so they’re happy. Over time though, they understand more and more, till they understand her as well as she understands herself.

-Coming out to the gang is straightforward enough. Two-Bit started to make an iffy comment as a joke, but Steve threatened him till he shut up. Two-Bit’s supportive though- the way he sees it, the world always needs more hot chicks. Johnny goes to her for advice about girls, which he knows makes her feel validated. And Dally pretty much immediately starts flirting with her, partially out of his instinctual need to harass women and partially because it riles Steve up and Dally likes riling Steve up. Two-Bit flirts with her too- she’s hot, blond, and it pisses Steve off, so yeah, win-win.

-Darry worries about her sometimes. He does the protective older brother bit only half-jokingly, and it sort of annoys Soda because Darry was never this worried about her before she came out. She also sort of likes it, because yk, it feels affirming. So she’s got mixed feelings about that.

-Darry threatens to kill Steve if he hurts her. And sure, Darry did that back when stevepop first got together too, but now it feels even more pointed. Steve is a little scared of Darry in a way that he wasn’t before.

-Ponyboy straight up gaslights Curly Shepard, Mark Jennings, and half the kids at school into thinking Soda was always a girl, just a tomboy. “Jesus, you thought I had two brothers? Hell no, I’ve always had a brother and a sister. Soda just looked like a boy as a kid ‘cos she had to wear Darry’s hand-me-downs you fuckin’ idiots.”

-After seeing Ponyboy’s success at that, Two-Bit, Johnny, Dally, and Steve try to do the same with the other hoods. Tim Shepard doesn’t fall for it, but when Dally begrudgingly explains the situation, Tim supports it too. Not because he particularly likes Soda or trans people as a whole- he actually thinks she’s kind of a freak tbh- but because she’s a Curtis. Darry’s his friend, and she’s Darry’s kid sister. Besides, it’s what he’d do if Angela was trans. (this ain’t a great pov to have obviously! But yk, I’m aiming for realism.)

-Steve is saving up money to get Soda HRT. He hasn’t told her, but everytime he gets five bucks from his dad, it goes to the secret estrogen fund. He tells Darry about it, and Darry starts adding a small portion to it monthly too.

-She looks even more like her mom now. Sometimes, Pony will wake up from a nightmare and in his sleepy haze, he’ll momentarily think she is Mrs. Curtis. He’s never told Soda this before and never will. It’d make her feel guilty, and he doesn’t want that,

-It feels lousy living in Tulsa sometimes, where folks often misgender her and bring her down. So when she and Steve get older, they move to a nearby city where everyone who meets her meets her as Sodapop- Steve’s girlfriend, the Curtis sister, a young woman who’s fantastic with cars and even better with horses.

[aggieharkness]

Hello! Baking (or rather cutting out) Christmas cookies was a bit like a cold, tense hell with Christmas music playing in the background.

So I'd like to request reader baking Christmas cookies (or just normal cookies) with Lilia. Put as much fluffy, funny, feel-good feelings as you can in there, please. I'd really appreciate it.

Happy holidays!

The world is perfect when I'm with you

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: It's Christmas Eve and you and Lilia share a few quiet moments at home baking cookies and simply enjoying the time to be with each other.

Warnings: romance, pure fluff, dancing, baking cookies.

Authors note: Oh my God, I love the idea. You don't know just how happy it made me to read this, like I was bouncing on my bed. I hope you like it and that it brings you happiness and comfort. If there is anything at all that you don't like, tell me and I'll change it, or if you want more, I'm here. Thanks for the request. btw.

This is a Christmas gift for you!! Happy Holidays!

The world is perfect when I'm with you

The house was filled with music. Christmas carol after Christmas carol played through the Bluetooth speaker you had bought a few months ago, echoing against the walls of Lilia’s tiny living area. She wasn’t one for festivities such as Halloween or Easter, but God, she adored Christmas. The first year you had shared the holidays with her it had surprised you just how invested she was, putting up an old beat-up tree, fairy lights everywhere, even around the bedposts, but you never complained. Her big brown doe eyes had shone with such joy and happiness that you just couldn’t bring yourself to burst her bubble in any way. The house had looked beautiful once she had finished, a small nativity scene in a corner of the room, a remnant of her past life in Sicily. This year wasn’t any different, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. The first of December hit the calendar, and she was like Sonic the Hedgehog pulling out boxes of lights and ornaments, leaving the tree to you, a brand new one covered in fake snow that you had gifted her a couple of years ago. She loved knowing that you were helping and making sure the house was just like she wanted it to look, little angels and random glass balls hanging from the branches, golden tinsel wrapped around it along with a string of lights. It looked beautiful next to the TV. For three weeks you helped her set up the house until you were finally able to take your vacation days, leaving your job until the sixth of January.

Morning had come, bursting through the windows in gentle warm rays of sunlight that bathed over Lilia’s form as she slept, those lovely peppery curls shinning under the orange beams, her body cuddled against yours. Every morning since you both had closed up the shop for the holidays had been exactly the same sweet routine; you waking up first to meet the dawn while she slept for a bit longer, basking in the way your hands followed the shape of her soft ringlets, and your tender kisses lulled her away from the land of dreams. It was simply the best way to begin the day. You both had stayed in bed talking about nothing and everything cuddled against each other until the sun was well high up in the sky, the pinks and purple hues that had painted the world above now a clear blue cyan while the world was buried underneath a crisp layer of snow that had fallen through the night. You had not noticed, wrapped around Lilia, lost in her kisses. She got up first, her hair falling from the bun she had had when you had taken her to bed, her ivory gown letting you catch a glimpse of her otherworld body as she made her way to the bathroom, the light hitting her just at the right angle making her nightdress completely see through. She looked bloody fantastic for being over a hundred and fifty years. The rest of the routine followed like clockwork, coffees and scrambled eggs included, making way for the moment you were both in right now.

Lilia’s body swayed from side to side to Michael Bublé, a Christmas classic for her, her voice not only harmonising perfectly, but overtaking and overpowering the music so easily and effortlessly that you had to stop pulling bowls out of cupboards simply to watch her. Over the kitchen counter she was beating three eggs along with melted butter and sugar, ingredients spread everywhere because when she had got up, right before she had left for the bathroom, she had bent over your body, your eyes drifting to her cleavage until her eyes had claimed your attention, telling you that you were making cookies today. Had you been Agatha or maybe even Jen you would have complained telling her that it was boring, but you were you and the prospect of baking with Lilia was like a perfect Christmas gift.

-Lils, how much flour do we need? – your eyes lifted from the big packet of flour that you had just left on the table, her usual red and blue robe flowing when she moved to stand beside you, a yellow apron with the words “Look at these buns!” protecting her clothes.

-250 grams baby, or one full cup. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

-Everywhere you go. Thanks, hon.  

-Take a look at the five and ten.

-It's glistening once again.

-With candy canes and silver lanes that glow.

It was wonderful to sing with her even if your voice could never compare; she did not care. Anything that she did with you was simply perfect. Her hands left the bowl of wet ingredients on the table, holding onto yours before you could grab the sifter. She pulled you away from the table, moving your arms from side to side rather dumbly, twirling you on the spot before your chest was pressed against hers. The music was forgotten in the background, drowned by both yours and Lilia’s laughter as your bodies bent exaggeratedly from right to left. Christmas suited her, it was as if this holiday had been made for her, the lights that she had placed all around the room blinking on and off within a pattern, the bright colours mixing with the warm light bursting through the windows. Lilia twirled the both of you around the kitchen table until the song ended, “Feliz Navidad” now playing instead. Her lips landed briefly over yours, pecking you sweetly before she put you back to work with the dry ingredients.

-Don’t forget the baking soda. Last time you did, the cookies became a rock-hard mass.

-Hey! How was I supposed to know that the baking soda wasn’t in the baking soda bottle but in the saffron one? You are the one who loves to recycle.

-Why would I want to throw away a perfectly usable jar? Besides it’s not my fault you forget your glasses in the bathroom all the time.

-Oh yeah? – you grabbed the top of her apron and pushed her against you. – Where are yours now babe?

-You little…

-Ah! No cursing, you don’t want the dough to get upset and not rise, do you?

-I don’t know why you listen to Rio, that it’s obviously a myth.

-Do you want to risk it? – she shook her head, her pout transforming into a bright smile before she kissed you once again, humming happily against your lips.

There were still a few deep tones of the black coffee she had had for breakfast on her lips that your tongue picked up and savoured before turning back to your bowl. Sifting the flour so there would be no lumps you followed the powder with your eyes carefully, making sure every single drop was inside the bowl this time. Over a week ago you had been supposed to bake an apple pie for Sharon’s book club but there had been a few minor hiccups, one of them being you sifting the flour all over the table because you had been looking at Lilia while she talked about a client that had come in requesting the lottery number. When she turned around, she saw you covered in the white powder, bursting into unladylike snorts of laughter that had her entire face turning red, needing to sit for a moment to fill her lungs and calm herself down. Through the corner of her eye she watched you fill the bowl and congratulated you on not spilling it, a kiss on your temple, her hands busy slicing a couple of chocolate bars. She was teasing a bit, but every praise was always genuine when they came from her, a bubble of happiness wrapping around your heart. A pinch of salt and the baking soda and the dry ingredients were ready for the rest of the mix, Lilia wiping her hands on a tea towel before beginning to pour the eggs, sugar and melted butter mix. Instead of using a whisk you had grabbed a spatula from the sink, washing it before beginning to gently fold the batter until it was smooth but thick.

-Can you turn the oven on? I’m almost done with the chocolate.

-Can’t we just bake them with, you know… a flick of our wrist?

-I swear, Halloween Town has made so much damage. Being able to do something doesn’t mean we should, and you have never seen me turn chicken thighs back into a chicken, have you?

-No, but can we?

You knelt on the floor removing trays and plastic Tupperwares so they wouldn’t melt, turning knobs until the light came on and the fan began to work. You were thankful for all those squat trainings you did as you lifted the ceramic trays you had removed from inside the oven and placed them over the bed covers noticing that Lilia had not answer the question. When you turned around she was biting into a perfectly backed chocolate chip cookie, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her lips.

-Why didn’t you tell me we actually could Lilia?!

-Because half of the fun is letting the smell of fresh baked cookies fill the house.

She stretched her hand, the half-eaten cookie waiting for you. You rushed back to her and took one big bite, moaning at the taste of the chocolate and vanilla essence, Lilia popping the rest in her mouth, pecking your lips after a moment. Even though she could clearly bake at the snap of her fingers she still moved to put parchment over a metal tray, grabbing a scoop from a drawer. She had already mixed the chocolate into the batter, the dough cold to the touch when you went to pick up some with your finger. So, she could chill it in a second instead of putting it in the fridge, but she did not want to bake them with her magic? A waste of time in your opinion, but then again, she might be right, as usual. The house did smell delicious for days after baking. Lilia had placed a bottle of olive oil on the table so you could lather your hands in it, the first scoop of batter landing in your palms so you could round them before placing them on the parchment paper, over two inches in between each cookie so they could rise and expand in the over without ending up as one giant monstrous thing. It had happened before. The first batch of eight cookies was done in just a few minutes, but there was still a bit of batter left, not that Lilia hadn’t thought of a solution already, another tray waiting for what was left. Just as you finished rounding the last one the oven begun to beep, and Lilia bent to put the trays inside, setting a timer for around fifteen minutes.

-Now for the sugar cookies. I’ll get the ingredients ready while you clean up the table, okay baby?

-Sure, just let me move this flour bag to the counter first.

Innocently you picked up the heavy bag, waddling slightly towards where Lilia had cleared a spot for it on the counter, feeling it slipping a bit off your hands, your steps faster so it wouldn’t end up on the floor. In slow motion you let it plop on the counter, just in time, your fingers barely holding onto it, but the motion had caused a white cloud of flour to come out of the bag right towards Lilia’s spot. Your hands shot to cover your mouth, eyes wide, when you turned to look at her, fighting the laughter that wanted to erupt out of your mouth. Lilia’s beautiful face with her rosy cheeks, big characteristic nose and plump lips was utterly covered in a thick layer of white. She blinked a few times, flour falling off her eyelashes giving her an even more comical look with her chocolate doe eyes staring at you through the white mask. Some of it had made its way to her hair, mixing perfectly with her curls. She opened her mouth to speak but she coughed instead, a small cloud of flour puffing in front of her right before sneezing, part of the powder falling onto the top of her dress and over her yellow apron. There was silence for a moment, not even YouTube Music was playing as she stared at you, hands on her hips. An instant later “Let it snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!” was filling up the room with its jolly tune, your laughter impossible to keep quiet.

You roared loudly, a hand still trying to cover your mouth while the other was holding onto your stomach, eyes moving from her face down to the floor. Lilia was staring dumbfounded at you, an offended look on her face as you laughed. Her hand shot to grab your arm pulling you towards her, eyes watering when you rose up to gaze at her. She stopped your laughter quickly, her hand throwing a handful of flour to your face, making you blink away the flour surprised at her action. Staring at each other there was no sound coming from either of you before Lilia chuckled, you following until you were both laughing, your hand grabbing more flour and throwing it in her direction, Lilia dodging it just in time. When you saw that she was putting her hand in the bag you rushed away from her giggling excitedly, feeling her behind you as you rounded the table, her flour missing you by an inch. She was now actively chasing you all throughout the house, your body sliding through the curtains and into the store. You were both leaving a trail of flour on the floor, but neither of you cared.

-I’ll get you for this!

-I’m sorry! I didn’t… - you could hardly breath from how much you were laughing, screaming in delight whenever she got close enough to grab you but never actually doing it. - I didn’t mean it!

-Come here!

You rushed to the door, pulling the glass gates open and stepping into the empty street. Sure, you were not wearing clothes appropriate for snow, your feet cozy inside your slippers, legs dressed in a pair of black leggings, but you hadn’t thought of that. Moving over two feet away from the house, Lilia following you out into the street, you took one step until you felt her hands grabbing onto your waist, pulling you against her. You yelped gleefully while laughing, feeling her arms snake around you, the perfect crispy snow reaching your mid-calf, the air cold, a contrast against Lilia’s delicious warm body.

-Got you. – she whispered in your ear, her breaths rapid and hot against the skin of your neck. You smiled while resting your head in the crook of her neck, very little flour left on your faces now.

-So you did.

-If it was all a ploy so we could come out and play in the snow you know you could have just told me.

-Hmmm, not a bad idea, but it was an accident.

-I know, baby. I’m not mad, but you are cleaning up when we are done baking.

Your mouth was open in shock, a retort forming in your tongue as you turned your face to look at her, but it never made it out of your mouth, her lips on yours kissing you tenderly, her soft ringlets caressing your cheeks. The chocolate cookie had left a wonderful sweet taste on her lips, or perhaps it was the bite you had had, either way, it seemed to fit her perfectly. You both stood over the snow for a few minutes observing the usual boring street covered in glistening white all over, on the roof tops, over the signposts. It was beautiful as long as you had Lilia behind you pecking your cheek. She turned you around after a while, holding onto your hands, pulling your frame back inside the cozy home. The oven had just begun to beep when you crossed the curtain to the back, Lilia rushing to them so they wouldn’t burn letting go of you. She was beautiful, spots of flour still clinging to her skin, like on her forehead or the tip of her nose, but they didn’t seem to bother her as she placed one tray on the stove and the other on the counter over a plate so it wouldn’t leave a burn mark on the old wood. You could spend every minute of your life watching her do anything.

They smelled absolutely delicious, the aroma spreading through the room to every corner, gently sliding into the shop. Over the bed covers you had left a rack which she picked up and left on the counter, you watching from your spot against the back wall as Lilia worked flawlessly, transferring the cookies along with the parchment paper to let them cool down. There was no room for the hot trays now, but that was no issue. Lilia turned, locking her eyes with you and then winked, lazy tendrils of yellow magic wrapping themselves around the trays and lifting them in the air, floating with gentle swaying motions over your heads. Everything related to Lilia’s magic was always so very mystical, visions, readings, the usual divination magic that she was used to, so it was wonderful to see the more practical, fun side of it, it meant she was relaxed and happy. She moved her hand beckoning you to join her, pulling out a pair of clean bowls after she had left the dirty ones in the sink.

-Why don’t you start with the icing?

-What happened with cleaning up the table?

-Flour on my face happened, doll. But don’t worry, there’s not much on the table now, I’ll just move those cups to the side if I need to.

-You don’t trust me anymore? – you pouted with a fake saddened tone as she took a stick of butter and a few eggs out of the fridge, turning her body towards you, a hand on the counter and the other on her hip, head lulled to the side. She sighed but smiled, your pouting making you look just so adorable.

-You know I do, otherwise I wouldn’t have given you the fun part of the recipe. You get to paint the cookies, baby.

-Yeah, but it’s fun doing things together. I want you to paint with me.

-Who said I wasn’t going to? You just make the icing and leave it on the side while I start on the batter and then we can cut them together. Does my baby like that?

Nodding your head she moved her hands to your cheeks kissing your lips tenderly, a smile on her lips when she parted from you. Happy that you had got, yet again, another kiss you took a small bowl from the cupboard above your head, checking the recipe that was stuck to the exhaust hood above the stove with a magnet before picking up two eggs, separating the yolks from the whites. Lilia kindly took the yolks and put them aside to use them at lunch time while you beat the whites with the whisk a bit. You didn’t need to do it, you just liked to before putting the icing sugar in, which you could not find in any of the cupboards. You pulled doors open, drawers, you even searched the fridge, it wouldn’t have been the first time any of you had accidentally put something in that didn’t belong there, but it was nowhere, and you could have sworn you had bought some not long ago. Lilia saw you moving frantically all over the kitchen and asked loudly what you needed over the music of “Jingle Bells Rocks” that was now playing. Upon hearing what you needed she moved aside to present you with a bright orange bottle.

Of course, she must have picked it and put aside when she had begun to gather ingredients. She was measuring the sugar, your eyes watching how her hands, dressed in rings on multiple fingers, tapped the bag and moved to the beath of the song. With a small cloud of floating icing sugar you mixed it all, a white paste forming in the bowl to which you added a little bit of corn syrup to make it glossier, just a touch that you liked. Now came the fun bit, taking the food colouring and crating the weirdest shades you could come up with. With a spoon you poured some of the mixture into an empty glass, adding a drop of red that turned pink upon mixing it with a teaspoon, so you added a few more, happy with the bright red that you made and setting it aside. Lilia looked at your science experiment from the corner of her eyes, hands adding spoonfuls of flour into the wet ingredients, folding the powder in. You were like a little kid with a bunch of sharpies and crayons painting lines and figures excited to see the final outcome, Lilia’s brown eyes looking at you as you mixed red and blue to create purple, although right now it looked a bit more like a suspicious brown. She let you finish mixing the colours, reminding you to leave part of the icing white, before adding the last few touches of a pinch of salt and baking powder, the dough clumpy in the bowl, as it should be.

 -Are you done with the arts and crafts, babe?

-Yeah, I think. How do you make grey?

-You don’t. I didn’t get any black colouring. Why would you want to add grey to Christmas cookies?

-Well, I don’t have an idea right now, but I like to have a range.

-Come on, Van Gogh, let’s roll the dough.

While you closed the last bottle of colouring Lilia placed the dough on the table, her strong arms and hands kneading and rolling to combine it and let it form a big smooth ball. You were mesmerised by the way her muscles moved up and down even through the lose sleeves of her dressing gown, her chest bouncing gently to the motion, your eyes glued to soft flesh of her neck and collarbones through the low-cut dress she was wearing, her amulet swaying along. It was incident to stare like that, but she was just too captivating, and she knew. She could feel your eyes watching her every move, a shiver running down her spine, but she never stopped kneading, there would plenty of time for her to take you to bed later. She gave it a few more punches before patting the little ball of dough, signalling that she was done.

-Should I get the rolling pin?

-Yeah, this is ready. It’s in the second drawer, next to the bottle opener.

-It’s too early for a glass wine, right?

-Yes, darling. It’s my company so bad that you need to get drunk at 10 am? – she raised an eyebrow while looking at you, a hand on her hip over her apron. Only a couple of feet separated you, but it was too much of a gap for you, snaking your arms around her neck while her hands automatically moved to your waist, her lips ghosting over yours.

-Never. You are far too alluring and beautiful, I would hate to get drunk and forget tomorrow how you looked today, or how your perfume compliments the smell of cookies so well.

A childish giggle escaped her mouth, muffled when she bent to peck your lips. She was clingy today, or amorous, either way you were not complaining. Parting from you she patted your hip, a sign that she needed you to get her the rolling pin, which of course you did. Anything she needed. There was a certain level of excitement building in your chest as Lilia rolled the dough until it was a quarter inch thick, the sheet overtaking half of the kitchen table, the best part coming at last.

-Right, where are the cookie cutters, babe?

-They should be in a box in the cupboard over the sink. Let me check. – pulling a chair from under the table you stepped on it to check in between the toaster and a juicer that you had got her for her birthday, date that she still refused to tell the girls in the coven, Sharon included as she could be a bit of babble when she had a glass or two of wine in her system. You searched but the box was nowhere to be found. – I can’t find them, did you move them, hon?

-No, not that I remember. Have you looked behind the coffee bags?

-Yeah, they’re not there. Where… Ah… I know where they are.

-Where? I’ll get them while you come down.

-Does the car have gas? – she was resting her backside against the edge of the desk as you stepped down, returning the chair underneath the table.

-What? What does the car have to do with anything?

-I lent them to Agatha.

-What? Why?

-I don’t know, I stopped asking her what she needs things for. I’m not getting another story of her and Rio’s sexual exploits during an expo or whatever. She just asked for them, so I lent them to her.

-You mean gave them to her. We are going to have to buy new ones. Well, it’s not too much of a loss, just grab a couple of knifes and we’ll freehand the cookies.

You practically hopped your way to the upper drawer to pick a pair, rushing back to her side and handing her one. You stared at the dough as if calculating, figuring out exactly what you wanted to do and after a moment, you began to create what you were sure was a candy cane, super proud of the shape until you looked at Lilia, who had had the same idea, and noticed how your lines were hardly straight and the curve was more a 90º angle.

-Why does yours look like an actual candy cane?

-Practice. Oh, yours is not that bad, baby. What is it?

-Ha ha. You know very well what it is.

-Yes, sorry, just teasing.

It was now a competition for you, eyes squinted and your teeth biting down on the tip of your tongue as you tried to keep the knife straight through every line, connecting them all and creating a star, or what you thought should be one, because it looked more as if it had just been run over by a car. Lilia laughed when she saw it and in a childish move you planted your index finger right on her Christmas tree, squishing it while sticking your tongue out. She gasped while calling your name.

-Y/N!

-You laughed at my star!

-It doesn’t look like one, baby.

-And now your tree doesn’t look like a tree, so we are even.

-Darling, it doesn’t matter if they are not perfect, we know what they are supposed to be and that’s all that matters. So what if your star needs a bit of therapy? Now my tree needs a chiropractor. Let’s continue, alright?

-Just don’t laugh again.

-I promise, scouts honour.

She pecked your lips and forehead before tuning back to the dough. The next form was supposed to be a snowman, but it looked more like a bunch of amorphous meatballs, a giggle sliding through your lips at the sight. You turned to check Lilia’s attempt at a reindeer which was more along the lines of a corgi with horns. You could not help it, it brought a cackle out of you, her peppery curls bouncing around her face as she wiped her head to look at you.

-I didn’t laugh at yours!

-Yeah, but… what the hell is that Lils?

-It’s a… It was supposed to be a reindeer.

-I’m sorry honey, but it looks nothing like one.

-Well, it’s a new breed. From Canada.

-Shall we name it? – your hand went to her shoulder, your head resting over it as you both watched the figure.

-Agatha, for stealing our cookie cutters.

She laughed at her own joke, your own snorting only adding to the humour of the moment, without a care in the world. Both of you carried on making shapes and forms, some of them better than others, some being additions to the “new breed from Canada”. You had pointed at each other’s creations laughing and praising, giving some of them names until you had the entire coven in cookie form, but you and Lilia’s figures could not be those weird interpretations of snowmens and trees, so you let her carve yourselves as two beautiful gingerbread women. It had started out as Christmas cookies but in the end, when Lilia had begun to move them to the floating trays, there had been more amorphous beings than accurate forms, but neither of you cared one bit, “Fairytale of New York” following “Santa Baby” on your Christmas playlist. Lilia’s head perked up at the sound of the music, pushing the door to the oven with her hip until it closed, setting a timer for ten minutes. She grabbed your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours as she pressed you against her, swaying to the song.

She must have been a singer and a dancer at some point in her life, there was just no way she could be that good and not have had shown her gift to the world at least once. You would ask her one of these days, but as of now you were happy to dance with her in the kitchen, listening to her sweet voice follow the tune. The moment was perfect, down to the song, to the way the sun caught in her hair as she twirled you both around the room, her citrusy perfume filling up your lungs along with the sweetness of the cookies. How could you have ever been blue? How could you have ever thought that happiness was not in for you? Lilia had come into your life and the world was suddenly a beautiful place where nothing could ever go wrong. Staring at her eyes it was as if they were the melted chocolate you had tasted on her lips earlier, warm and loving.

-They've got cars big as bars, they've got rivers of gold.

-But the wind goes right through you, it's no place for the old.

-When you first took my hand on a cold Christmas Eve.

-You promised me Broadway was waiting for me.

-You were handsome

-You were pretty, Queen of New York City

She laughed at the nickname, head lulled back, her feet never stopping, moving from side to side. The living area wasn’t precisely Buckingham Place, but you two made it work, and as Lilia’s moved both your bodies, her dressing gown brushing the foot of the Christmas tree, she truly showed you how much that tiny little room could give. The warm light that had bathed the room suddenly disappeared, the bright colourful lights that she had placed in every corner overtaking and lighting up the room in a dance of colours and shapes. Your eyes drifted to the window seeing the sky covered by big fluffy white clouds, a gentle breeze having picked up outside the house, the first few snowflakes beginning to fall, but Lilia claimed your attention when she pushed your body away form hers while still holding your hands.

-The boys of the NYPD choir were singing Galway Bay and the bells were ringing out for Christmas day.

She pulled you back against her body once again, her arms around your waist, your hands resting on the back of her neck twirling her soft curls in between your fingers. Her forehead was pressed against yours, the movements slow as the song carried onto the last few verses letting the words drip from her lips in hushed tones only for you to hear. The two of you had closed your eyes letting the warmth of each other’s bodies wrap around you, basking in the way you could feel the love seeping from every pore, from every word that escaped her lips. It wasn’t until she sang the last verse, her breath tickling your nose, that she did press her lips to yours, hiding her face into the crook of your neck after a few moments to escape the reality outside those four walls. “Auld Lang Syne” followed, the softer tune perfect for you both to simply sway on the spot, your hands caressing Lilia’s hair and neck, your cheek resting against her ear as she breathed in your perfume and shampoo, humming happily. Neither of you wanted the moment to end, feeling as if being like this, in each other’s arms, was just the perfect way to live Christmas Eve before the craziness of going over to Sharon’s with the rest of the coven happened. You wanted to savour every second you had with Lilia and only Lilia. For once the world could wait, stop moving altogether until you were ready to carry on with life, though you doubted you would ever let the happen.

Right on time the last few notes playing marked start of another song, the oven starting to beep. Lilia did not wish to move, but she had to, extracting herself after a minute to pull the trays out, letting them float around just like she had done before. You helped her transfer the chocolate chip cookies onto a plate, setting them aside so she could let the sugar cookies out of the trays and onto the racks. But you were impatient, she knew, and with a flick of her wrist, your eyes shinning gleefully as you watched a few sparkles of golden magic fly from her fingertips, they were cold enough to be placed on the kitchen table to be decorated.

-Do you have any ideas you want to share, darling?

-Not really, well, maybe. I think we should paint the Coven with their signature colours.

-Alright. Let’s start with Agatha, that way if she looks bad it won’t matter much. She owes me a bunch of cutters.

It was playful banter, she didn’t really hate Agatha, quite the opposite, she took care of the woman as if she were a daughter, looking after her, looking out for her, protecting her from the world as if she were afraid someone could break her. It was one of the main things that had attracted you to her at first, her caring, nurturing nature. She picked up an empty pipping bag and let you fill it up with the purple icing before cutting the tip. The first blob fell right in the middle of the reindeer, and since there wasn’t much she could now she carried on. The shape was horrid, but she assured you that once the details were added it would bring it all together. You weren’t very sure. The eyes looked a bit disproportionate, and the antlers were a bit thick, but all in all Lilia thought it looked good, and you didn’t want to disagree.

-My turn now, let me do Sharon. In green?

-Yeah, we have two green witches, we’ll just make Rio’s eyes brown and call it a day.

You might not have been gifted with the knife, but you sure were better with the pipping bag than Lilia. Your reindeer was more accurate, green but accurate, the small beady eyes perfectly positioned but the antlers… the looked like a bunch of worms. It suited a green witch you supposed. Lilia was quick to praise and tell you that it was beautiful, kissing your temple and watching as you did Rio’s as well, a perfect reindeer in front you down to red nose and everything. You were so excited, bouncing in her arms, her words filled with love and joy as she told you just how pretty it was. Her hands moved on to Jen, the shape of the snowwoman much easier than that of a reindeer in pretty shade of pink, the eyes and buttons brown, along with a blue scarf and orange nose. She put it aside to let the icing harden your hands working on Billy as she did Alice, both snowman that looked pretty decent taking on account that Lilia’s orange pipping bag burst in her hand just as she was finishing Alice’s body, icing all over the table and a couple of candy cane cookies.

-What a mess!

-Baking is messy, Lils. Don’t worry, there’s enough icing left to make more orange.

-But…

-It’s perfectly fine, honey, honestly. Just clean that up and I’ll make more. And those two cookies can be like orange flavoured candy canes. See? Problem solved.

-My baking hero.

Grabbing a glass after she pecked your cheek, you were quick to blend the right shade of orange, putting it inside a new pipping bag and handing it to Lilia so she could finish Alice’s body. It was beautiful to do this together, Lilia’s lines wiggly and the consistency a big lumpy when she tried to do the first few stockings until she gave up and moved on to the stars, easier in her opinion. You tried to write names on the stockings once she had moved them to your side of the table, but they were more like scribbles that no one could understand, still the colour code every member of the coven had settled for kind of helped to identify which was for which. The moment was both cozy and hilarious, pointing at the figures you were both painting, commenting, laughing and scraping to begin again only to end up with the same wiggly lines and mismatched colours. Lilia once in a while added her own touch to one of your cookies, be it a weird bow or a string of tinsel around a tree while you gave hers a more artistic touch by adding sparkles to her candy canes or little dots of colour on her reindeer’s antlers claiming that they were Christmas lights. She had laughed hard at that stating in between laboured breaths that it looked as if the poor thing had crashed a farmers’ market, and to be honest it kind of did, laughing along with her, your body pressed against her arm as you both shook and cackled. But neither of you cared, they were yours and in their horrid looks they looked perfect to you. The only thing left was to paint were you and Lilia’s gingerbread women, something that you were left in charge of as Lilia didn’t want to risk it. The pressure was real as you did Lilia’s face, her curls a mix of white and brown icing before you moved onto the clothes giving her a yellow jacket, white blouse and blue pants, the outfit you had met her in when she had been thrown out of the Witches Road after fishing her task. She had been covered in mud back then, but you weren’t one to add brown and destroy her beautiful cookie. You put as much effort in your own, dressing yourself in a pair of black trousers and a red blouse, your hair in a bun above your head.

-They look beautiful babe. Mirror images of reality.

-It’s easy when you have the perfect model in front of you. – she smiled at the compliment, a gentle pink hue dressing her cheeks. She blushed so tenderly and so beautifully.

-Flattery will get you everywhere with me, darling.

-I certainly hope so.

-As much as I love the idea of letting you have your way with me, why don’t we let these cookies settle for a bit and go out?

-Everything’s closed.

-I didn’t say that we had to go somewhere in specific. You like snow, don’t you?

-Of course!

-Then get your winter boots on and let’s make a real snowman!

-Really?!

You jumped on the spot nearly knocking over the table, Lilia’s hands shooting to grab it, your lips on her cheek before rushing to the other side of the room. You apologised while running to your closet, grabbing a jumper, a pair of thicker trousers along with some Harry Potter socks and rushing to the bathroom, your voice reaching her ears as you sang loudly, your voice filled with joy, knocking over things that were on the sink.

-Do you want to build a snowman?!

-Oh, God, not “Frozen” again.

[noblehouseofgay]

Home Alone

Rosekiller microfic

Little Luna and implied pandalily

Home Alone au

Dedicated to these freaks that I am very emotionally attached to, Merry Xmas guys: @shouldhavebeenarockstar @allonsy-moony @maraudering-times @marauders-brain-rot @caiizawa @hexa-ro @drowninkystar @the1970sdeadgaywizard-regulus

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Quiet chatter filled the winter night air as Barty and Evan walked up to the door.

"No but it was funny because Regulus was-" Barty paused when he realized his key wouldn't go into the lock. "That's strange." He tried again as Evan used his phone light to check it.

"It looks- it looks sealed." Even stood back up. Their eyes widened as they looked at each other.

"Home Alone."

Last week, Pandora had invited everyone over for a movie night. They had watched Home Alone and even that night they could tell Luna had loved the movie.

Now, on a night they expected to be an easy babysitting night, they had been cast as the wet bandits and had to get into this booby trapped house.

Luna was a clever kid.

It wouldn't be easy.

Or safe.

Evan knocked on the door. "Lunes? It's us. Can we come in?"

Nothing.

Barty sighed. "I'll try the back door, you wait here." Evan nodded and Barty made his way around the back of the house.

"Looney Tunes? It's Uncle Bat." He grabbed the door knob and immediately yelped in pain. "Fuck! Luna!" The metal had been electric somehow and had completely zapped his hand. Barty shook his hand, trying to gain back feeling in it.

"Luna we have to come in eventually!" He shook his head, looking for his next option.

🥀

Meanwhile back out front, Evan had gotten a window open, he climbed inside carefully. He watched where his feet stepped, making sure to not step on the toy cars below him. He scoffed. "Those aren't even Luna's those are Harry's."

He managed to stand on solid ground unscathed, but he didn't think to look up until a bucket of freezing cold water came crashing down on his head. "Oh fuck-" Evan tried to dodge but it was no use. If he stepped wrong he'd slip, so he simply accepted his icy fate.

He groaned and rubbed his head. "Oh you are so grounded when I find you, kid."

💀

Barty had managed to pry the door open after ten minutes of trying. He slammed it open, looking around. He carefully stepped inside the cellar. As he went to take another step, his foot wouldn't move.

He looked down to find glue covering the steps. "Bloody hell." He ripped off his shoes, throwing them in various directions. With his next step, his socks were pulled off. When he finally he reached the door, he flung it open and skipped the last stair.

He stomped inside, finding Evan standing in the living room.

"You're wet."

"Your shoes are missing."

"Have you seen her yet?"

As if summoned, a small voice came from upstairs. "You boys done, or are you thirsty for more?"

Both of them looked up to see Luna sitting on the stairs with a nerf gun.

"Luna- we can talk about thi-" Her aim was perfect. She hit Barty right in the mouth, firing ten foam bullets at him and effectively shutting him up. Barty dove to the side, slamming into Evan and knocking them both to the ground.

Luna could be heard laughing and running away.

Evan sighed in frustration. "Really, Bee?"

"I didn't know she'd bloody shoot me!"

Evan sighed and shoved his boyfriend off him, standing up. "We have two options. We either give up since we're at least in the house now."

"Or?"

Evan smirked slightly. "Or we play into it and give her a little show."

Barty's eyes flickered with something dangerous, his smirk matching Evan's. "I bloody love your brain." Barty pulled his boyfriend in and kissed him.

He grimaced slightly. "I forgot you're wet."

"Did you also forget when you fell on top of me?"

Barty looked down at his wet shirt. "Oh. Yeah I did. Well I was busy with darts being shot down my throat."

"Have something else you'd prefer down your throat?"

"You know it, Rosie."

Evan hummed. "Later. Right now we've got a kid to entertain." He marched up the stairs, walking right over a trip wire.

Barty yelped behind him as a paint can came swinging towards him, only narrowly missing his head. "She's gonna bloody kill us!"

Evan shrugged. "Possibly. She is Pandora and Lily's kid afterall."

"A combination made in hell surely. She's too smart for 7 years old."

Evan snorted, walking further down the hall. They made their way to Luna's door, eyeing each other before slowly opening it.

The door opened and it was quiet. Silence. No movement.

"This cannot be a good thing."

They walked in carefully, Barty's eyes on the ground and Evan's eyes looking around them.

"Alright kid, time's up, we're here."

"Is that a fact?" Luna's small voice came from behind them. They turned to find her pushing a small button.

"Luna-"

Immediately ropes came around them, tying them up and knocking them on their asses.

Luna cackled and plopped down in front of Barty and Evan.

"Hello uncles." Her voice was so sweet. So deceiving.

"Luna."

She blinked innocently.

"I am so bloody proud of you! This was so well done!" Barty laughed.

Evan sighed. "We should be punishing her, Bee...but it was cool." A smile creeped onto his face as he looked at his niece. "But you do realize you have to clean this up before your mum comes right?"

Luna pouted. "I know. But it was fun."

"It was. Now untie us. I'm beat, kid."

Luna smiled and untied her uncles. Both of them stood up and hugged her.

Barty lifted her onto his shoulders. "Now next time, you include you got it? I know some old tricks that'd work on your Uncle Reggie."

Evan just laughed and shook his head as the three walked out of the room to clean up the absolute disaster that was the Lovegood Residence.

[lilianalovespink]

CW- reader is asleep whilst most of this happens!!!, Non-con, unprotected p-in v sex, (slight) degradation, defloration, size difference, Simon is drunk

The bird's been bothering Simon all evening.

She's not his type, she's way too pushy and most importantly, she keeps on sending nasty looks to the captains daughter, simply because you had the audacity to smile and wave at Simon, which was enough to make him have to readjust himself in his pants.

"You know what- Simon you're an ass-!"

Well, that's his bird gone. In tears of upset, she leaves him at the bar and not two seconds later, you go out after her. 'God' the man thinks to himself 'if you're that nice to people who glare at you all evening, how nice are you to folks that are nice back?'

After you come back in there's a slight frown on your face as you invite him to sit with you, your father and the rest of the team.

"Don't you think you could apologize to Meredith?She's a nice woman and you made her cry-" Simon sees his captains hand squeeze your thigh, and you shut yourself up, though not without a confused look towards your father.

"But she is right; I'm sure if you we're nicer to your birds, they'd stay longer." This time, it's your father speaking. Simon doesn't believe that.

After all, he's never seen Kyle been more than a little nice to you, and you're still all over him.

He wonders if you and your little unofficial boyfriend have already had sex, or if he has more tact than Simon and will wait until your father's gone out somewhere?

Pretty little captain's daughter, always all dolled up and sweet and caring, he can't help it that his cock chubs up at that. After all, you're even nice to him. Even though he adjusts his cock in front of you and keeps eye contact during that.

What can he say? You're the sweetest girl he knows.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Later when they've all gone to bed in the inn, he gets up to take a piss at night. 'Geez, maybe you should stop drinking so much?' Yeah right, the blonde thinks to himself.

Maybe.

Stumbling back to his room in complete darkness whilst still inebriated is...difficult, but he can manage. Though he doesn't remember his room smelling like vanilla and strawberries, the door was agape and he's left his like that too.

He wants nothing more than to stumble into bed, get one out into his fist to the though of his captain's girl, and go to sweet, sweet nightmare land, but even while drunk, he can tell there's someone already under the covers.

Ah. So that's why it smells so sweet. Didn't he send his bird away? Well, if she snuck into his bed, he'd give her what she was hoping for and send her off once he's turned her brain to mush.

"Pathetic' Slag. Acting all huffy at dinner and then sneaking into my bed?"

She stirred. Was she asleep? Well, that didn't matter. Pressing her head into the pillows and pulling her ass up, he had to choke back a mean laugh at her nightwear.

"The hell you wearing pyjamas for? Trying to hide that you're a whore?"

No matter, these could come off just like a night gown. It seems like she finally woke up when he yanked her pants off, considering the body beneath him started fussing and thrashing slightly.

"Can't put it in 'less you stay still."

He grunted,rubbing his cock along her- fuck where those just regular cotton panties? Shouldn't she be wearing a thong?

"What, didn't feel the need to pretty yourself up for me even a little bit?" He buffs as he slaps her ass and yanks down her underwear just enough to expose her holes.

In the dark, it was kind of difficult to find the right entrance, but when he felt her folds, he also found the proper hole (or at least the one he wouldn't be yelled at for using), nudging his blunt, thick head against it and pushed in.

"Fucking- tight like a goddamm virgin-!" The scarred man grunted, having to force in inch after inch.

"S-STOP-" the voice in the pillow muffled, so he pressed her face down harder. Shouldn't have snuck into his bed expecting anything but this. He'd make sure she'd learn that, despite her thrashing and muffled crying.

Strange though, that that voice sounded sweet like the doll's voice. He smirked when he thought of her; after all, wasn't he doing a great job making it up to his bird?

Heavy as he knew he was, he still put all his weight into the thrusts that made the bed creak as it bounced against the wall, halfway leaned over the soft body beneath him, his chest completely covering the entirety of the back who's muscles flexed and relaxed the entire time.

He buried his face in her neck, allowing him to hear the moaning and the whimpering and the crying so much better. Huh. Strange. His bird was really starting to sound like the sweet girl probably fast asleep in her father's arms.

Maybe that was just the alcohol. Letting him hear what he wanted but couldn't have. Mocking him since a mutt like him couldn't get sweet girls like her. No, the sweet and caring girls were for boys like Kyle who'd at least pretend to be soft and gentle.

Not for Simon. Never ever for Simon.

The speed and power behind his thrusts intensified until he felt himself clench up, placing a hand on her belly as he shot his seed into her.

Fuck the bulge he felt temporarily mis-shaping her warm belly could make him go at least two more rounds.

She was probably on birth control, yeah?

Finally, since he got his peak, he pulled back out to find her leaking with his cum and her arousal, though the latter was awfully thin in texture.

And then the scent hit him. That was blood.

His eyes widened as he let go of her head, already cursing slightly as she sobbed and then-

"H-HELP....!"

In all of 20 seconds the light in the room turned on, making Simon huff until his eyes widened for a second time in two minutes, since the person who had turned the lights on was no other than his captain, and the little thing sobbing into her hands and leaking his spend was no other than-

"GET OFF OF MY DAUGHTER!"

[theboredhooman]

okay but kame and asa are literally 100% in love i don’t make the rules ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

long post overanalysing and yapping about these two lesbians + spoilers for the ‘mononoke: phantom in the rain’ movie! go watch it right now if you can 👹👹

kame is literally asa’s most precious thing.

asa was soo flustered and didn’t want to tell kame about this, even blushing?? like understandable it’s basically a confession

one of asa’s first reactions was always to check if kame was okay whenever the mononoke appeared

sure, it could’ve just been a friend thing, but asa was constantly looking out for kame in the ooku

defending her and taking the blame for all her mistakes and trying to protect her from harm, standing up to awashima and mugitani

asa i know what you are i saw that blush when kame smiled after you told her she could work with you instead of mugitani (I get you she was so cute tho)

”Such neat handwriting” asa’s eyes were so soft it actually broke my heart when i saw awashima cutting kame’s hair

the well scene….just…

asa trying to pull up kame, and kame doing the same for her

also asa being sort of lifeless while she hangs there until kame tells her that ‘it’ll be alright!/I’ve got you!’ and suddenly she snaps out of her shock, gaining emotions again

also it was so cute when they were talking next to each other at night

speaking of which, kame making asa promise to not let go while they sleep and asa adjusting to a more comfortable grip while holding hand was just; auGHHH 😩

ALSO ALSO “Kitagawa made me realise what was important, what I should never throw away,” and then KAME TURNING TO SMILE AT ASA AND ASA SMILING BACK WITH THAT ADORING LOOK IN HER EYES?? (note: there was also minor foreshadowing here with the empty doll cupboard but i think that had more to do with kitagawa)

and the cut off after saying she needed to say something important was really suspicious like what did she say??

idk how this related but afterwards she became more focused and hardworking on her job(but also more rigid and firm in her beliefs) and kame tipped out her water instead of drinking it (because she became the opposite? more rebellious/defiant maybe? idk)

speaking to the medicine seller, she said she understood kitagawa’s feelings, which makes me think kitagawa also had a thing for her friend lol like there was absolutely something going on there if she(kitagawa) fell apart after her friend left

only mildly related but i believe karakasa’s next target was probably going to be kame and she was used as bait for it (as something a redditor* mentioned was asa may have sent kame away to protect her rather than the reason kitagawa did, OR lure out karakasa) edit: nvm i remembered wrong it was utayama i believe (due to perhaps resentment within the doll’s umbrella*) or asa (following the logic that awashima and mugitani were both the head housemaids(?) favoured by utayama before asa, although again the end goal was probably to attack utayama)

also when asa was addressing the other maids of the ooku before the birth celebratory ceremony and bowed, kame bowed but nobody else did (which means they didn’t respect asa)

then kame got mad and showed her support for her girl like hell yeah 👏 and asa gained more confidence which i think was sweet

oh and asa was also like “the thing that kept me grounded was lady kame” 🥹🥹

she also said (acc. to netflix subs) “And yet, I yearned for nothing more than to share meals with Kame. And spend countless nights just staying up late, giggling and talking to her.” SHE SOUNDED SO LOVESICK 💔

btw love how the medicine seller instantly knew asa was looking for her boo lmao

anyways i think it mayyy not have been requited on kame’s side, at least canonically, but I have literally zero doubt asa was in love with her. then again homophobes and censorship. uh. it’s alright i ship them very hard either way i need more lesbian rep in anime hehe.

in conclusion. Harold they’re lesbians. thanks for coming to my ted talk. yeah o7

*redditors talked about the choice of karakasa as the yokai.(i reccomend reading it, it’s very interesting imo)