#don’t worry about my desk

[i-am-a-silly-goober]

Do I need to explain myself? 💀

My desk might be a “little” messy btw…

[invaderlynx]

A very rare night off

[scionshtola]

surely there is a better word for goosebumps

[augustatheghost]

i don’t know what you guys are all complaining about i love that svu has vaporized olivia from woman on the verge to lady cragen

[readingwriter92]

Waiting at the window for ao3 my beloved to return

[winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts]

THINKING ABOUT.

Universe contamination. WAIT before anybody says Oh doc’s gone off the deep end This is an oc project.

Kind of started as an explanation for why when my friends and I did crossovers it went off the rails? Also because of how my writing changed over time, ha. (of course you know you can’t have an adventure story without something going wrong but still.) Whenever somebody visits Jer, peoples around them are more… aggressive? Heightened emotions? (shoutout to Finch)

And on the other hand when Jer visits other people they’re able to calm down any situations very well, and just bring positive vibes! But it’s very exhausting for Some Reason.

I’m not sure how jer got the idea, probably a slow realization/looking back or maybe confirmation bias and none of it is real! Haha!

Contamination is a Major worry Jer has! They’re paranoid that outsiders staying too long and butterfly-effecting things/causing trouble could permanently ruin the timeline. (I think that’s what triggered him into uh shutting down his portal the first time) (and hearing about what JJ did was very worrying also-)

Lost my train of thought so I’m talking about another related idea. You know how in movies when a character is worried that Something TM is nearby but the other characters tell them not to worry because it’s not real? Irl we don’t have to worry and you can reassure yourself because Science, but in the movie they’re right to worry because the creature can be seen and really does exist. Jer knows the ‘creature’ exists, therefore that Threat is always there and nothing others say will fully reassure him, and he’s right to think that. Uh my thoughts. Losing my train of thought. [insert that meme of me by a conspiracy board]

(Orrrrr contamination isn’t actually because of universe magic but becauseeee of the way the worlds are slightly different and the way visitors act and talk are recieved differently? And when people are getting to know each other, first impressions do a lot? And what JJ did was an isolated incident that had a lot of warning signs beforehand? So he doesn’t have to worry? But too late, the idea’s in his head now.)

… uh oh, Jer’s trying to run an experiment by giving his friends ‘good luck charms’ and seeing if objects from their world could affect another’s if kept for a long time. Jer no!! Chill out!!

——

On a fun note though, I’m giving jer night vision. wahoooo :D I might make a cool drawing for it laterrr

And thinking on Rev- I think yeah, folks in Jer’s world think he’s some kind of creature or… maybe a film star? That’d explain why he’s most often at the studio and acting dramatic HAHA- but in all seriousness I think movies there would lean on the more action filled/ more violent side (and on the contamination thing- once people got to know Rev they mellowed out so. Jer, calm down. Jer of course people are going to act oddly your various friends from ‘out of town’ have fangs, claws, unusual eyes, and demon horns) (shoutout to Caedem)

(but. But. Potentially if some dangerous ideas were introduced to Jer’s city you can’t just… take them back- like Pandora’s box. If Something made people start acting more selfish and cruel it Could contaminate the supernatural good fortune of the city. Haha what who said that? I love ideas that could go either way, that’s my jam. Who knows. (But I wouldn’t do that to them because Id have to write something complicated And it would be very sad. But the worry is real to Jer.)

Related- thinking onnnn Jer’s rat! Randy’s doing a very good job keeping them calm- annnnd explaining out loud what you’re thinking (even to a pet!) can help you realize how over-worried you are. They’re having a Mental Health Moment but are holding it together on the outside so [thumbs up]

[sesamestreep]

can’t do my homework and i can’t think straight

(read on AO3)

(read the series in order)

SUMMARY: Foggy spends a month and half thinking about that New Year’s Eve kiss with Matt and resolves to do something about it, finally. A/N: a Valentine's Day follow up to my New Years fic/1960s AU! Hooray!! LOVE! Content warning for some period-typical homophobia stuff but not a lot honestly and nothing explicit/violent. Mostly it’s just idiotic pining and being excited to kiss your BFF! Enjoy! MWAH! 💋♥️

People warned Foggy that something like this would happen. They said that his last semester of law school would be the toughest, not just because he’d have to worry about the bar exam and finding a job on top of his schoolwork, but because he’d find that he suddenly wanted to give up on all of it and do nothing instead. And he does! He’s getting precisely nothing done for any of his classes and even less done for his other responsibilities. He, apparently, wants to squander twenty-something years of hard work in school, tank his grades, and abandon all of his ambitions at once. But that’s unfortunately not the worst of it. Foggy has a bigger problem. It’s one thing to not want to deal with his responsibilities, but the thing he does want to do instead is…dangerous. It’s not something he should be considering at all.

On New Year’s Eve—or, rather, in the first moment of the New Year—he’d done the most foolish, drunken, idiot thing that he’d ever come up with in his whole natural life and he’d kissed his roommate at the stroke of midnight. It wasn’t a serious kiss—he’d been going for Matt’s cheek, trying to be friendly about it, but Matt had turned at the last second and he’d caught him on the mouth instead. All told, it had only lasted a moment, but it had been on his mind ever since. Neither of them had gotten carried away, or done anything really that Foggy regrets, except the part where they eventually broke apart and acted like nothing had happened. That had been regrettable and, if Foggy’s being honest with himself, it’s the breaking apart that he most regrets.

In the month or so since, they’ve successfully gone back to normal. They’re the same as they’ve ever been, except now Foggy knows what it’s like to kiss Matt—earnestly and chastely, sure, but a kiss is a kiss. And the really dangerous thing is that he wants to know more. He wants to know what it’s like to kiss Matt with the guarantee of privacy, when they’re not in uncomfortable party clothes at a stuck up classmate’s apartment, when they don’t have the excuse of New Year’s Eve. He wants to know what it’s like to kiss him just as earnestly but not so chastely. He’s distracted by daydreams of pinning him to his bed and kissing him for hours and then—he doesn’t know what, then, but he’s thinking about it rather than studying right now and he doesn’t have the faintest idea what he’s supposed to do about it.

It’s proven to be a persistent distraction. In the library, he thinks of talking Matt into sneaking off and kissing him in the dusty old reference section where no one would interrupt them. When they’re grabbing food on campus, he thinks of kissing Matt briefly on the lips when he thanks him for grabbing him a cup of coffee or passing the salt shaker, like Foggy has seen old married couples do. When they’re alone in their apartment, trying to get ahead of all their work for this semester, Foggy thinks about sitting on Matt’s bed, where he does most of his studying, and gently taking off his glasses and putting them aside so he can kiss him until they both forget about law school and the bar exam and the future.

It’s a wonder he hasn’t flunked out already.

It’s just nerves, he figures. Foggy doesn’t want to deal with reality, where he has to graduate and get a job and become an actual adult in the next six months, so he’s picked something outlandish and impossible to distract himself with. He’s never wanted to kiss another guy before this, so it’s odd that it’s started now. Too odd to be a coincidence. It has to be some sort of avoidant behavior.

Then again, he has spent the last six years of his life talking about how great Matt is and grumbling good-naturedly about how all the girls want him instead. Was this something he was always thinking of in the back of his mind during those moments? He calls Matt handsome a lot, after all. And why had he even gone to kiss him on the cheek that night anyway? Matt had talked about not wanting to kiss someone at midnight that he’d never see again and Foggy had been, well, a little drunk but also unimpressed. Matt loved to flirt with girls and never see them again. It was a constant source of annoyance among the female population of their acquaintance. Foggy had just felt fed up with Matt’s excuses and reckless and drunk and he’d…well, he’d thought it was his right, as Matt’s best friend, to shock him out of his bad mood and cheer him up. And so he’d kissed him. No matter how much he tries to do the math, he can’t make it add up right.

Foggy’s not the sort of guy who cares about these things, usually. He’s been called a pansy and a sissy and a lot of less nice words his whole life, because he’s a little soft and a little sensitive and he doesn’t care about a lot of the things guys his age are meant to care about. He can’t keep the rules of football straight enough to care about catching the game, he doesn’t know anything about cars because he grew up in the city without one, and he wants to be a lawyer to help people, not to be able to afford a country club membership one day. That’s apparently enough to be considered effeminate these days, as some men are only too happy to tell him. Foggy doesn’t let it get to him often; he knows who he is and he earned that the hard way. People that don’t get it don’t have to bother with him.

He never felt weird about it growing up. He was always a mama’s boy anyway, and his mother didn’t try to toughen him up or anything silly like that. She appreciated the help in the kitchen and with the housework and she insisted that if he was going to go off into the world, he would know how to hard boil an egg and sew a button and iron his own clothes, so that he wouldn’t be dazzled by the first girl who could do those things for him. It was, she claimed, to ensure he ended up with someone worthy, someone he actually liked and respected. Respect was a big thing with his mother, for obvious reasons, he supposed. She’d been insistent with teaching him and his brother how to act right around girls. She taught them to take no for an answer, and to listen when girls talked about their dreams and their needs. She’d had to teach their father these things after they got married, and she considered herself lucky that she’d got herself a husband who was even willing to put in the effort, but her sons were going to do better. They would be respectful and kind and decent. They would be gentlemen.

Foggy’s brother got married right out of high school and started providing his parents with grandchildren immediately, so the pressure had been off Foggy for a while. Thankfully, too, because Foggy met lots of nice girls who were interesting and pretty and none of them seemed to feel the same way about him. He’s dated, of course, but it always stalls out somewhere. The closest he got to something serious was with Marci during their sophomore year but she ran hot and cold on him for a almost a year before they ultimately called it off. Foggy wanted someone who wanted him all the time, and he suspected Marci also wanted that too. That she wanted to want him more than she actually just wanted him. She got engaged to someone else a few months ago and Foggy had drank himself into a stupor about it more out of general dissatisfaction with his life than personal injury to his pride. Matt had rubbed his back and lied through his teeth about how Foggy would find someone too someday during the subsequent hangover.

Which brings him back to Matt, like always. Foggy’s comfortable around Matt, in a way he’s never been around any girl, but he always assumed that was pure socialization. His mother and everyone else on earth had been drumming into his ear from the age of 10, if not earlier, that he wasn’t to take liberties with girls, that he should never be alone with them, that they were different creatures from him and that they wanted different things—nicer things and softer things, purer things—and that they’d be insulted by his base desires so he’d better keep those damn things on a leash around them. Foggy doesn’t mind being respectful, but he’s met his fair share of girls in college and law school, and some of them want things that make him blush. Some of them, he imagines, would be just fine with the things he wants to do with them, if their parents and teachers and whoever else could just ease up on the expectations every now and again.

He doesn’t feel that guilt when he thinks about Matt. He doesn’t feel like he’d have to lie about what he wants with another guy. He wouldn’t have to avoid or acknowledge the specter of marriage if he was with another guy, because it’s not a possibility. He wouldn’t have to panic about getting anyone into trouble—well, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting anyone pregnant, at least. Fooling around with a man is, technically, illegal, so he could get someone into a lot of trouble, actually. But he and Matt already live together. There’s a lot less danger with that kind of thing in your own home, or at least he thinks. He doesn’t know for sure.

He’s only ever been with girls, and only a few. He doesn’t even know any gay men, as far as he knows. He just…gets hot when he thinks about it, and he suspects that’s enough. Maybe it’s the sort of feeling that only matters when you act on it—maybe if he finds a nice girl and settles down and never thinks about doing something filthy to his best friend in the law library again, he can safely claim he’s just a straight man for as long as he lives—but Foggy already thinks that’s bullshit and he hasn’t even done anything yet. Just the thought is enough, for him. Maybe not for other people, that’s not really his business, but the minute he started thinking and feeling this way, he knew something about himself. Maybe not something he’d necessarily been hiding or ignoring, but something that was true nonetheless, whether it was new or not.

And now he’s thinking about Matt and running his hands up his sides and combing his hair with his fingers while he kisses him senseless for endless stretches of time and his essay isn’t getting done and he’s hard underneath his desk. He leans back in his chair, disappointed in himself as usual, and counts back from one hundred by threes until he calms down. Something must be done about this, he decides, then and there. This is getting out of control.

By the time Matt comes home an hour later, he’s come up with a plan. A stupid plan, probably, but a plan nonetheless.

“Matt, thank God,” he says, as Matt strips off his coat to hang it up by the door. That action alone does not make his heart race, at all, and he would swear to it under oath. “Save me from this essay.”

“Going that well, huh?” Matt asks, coming to stand by his shoulder, and smelling of the sharp, cold winter air.

Foggy leans back in his chair, until his head rests against Matt’s stomach. Matt puts a hand on his shoulder, looking down at him sympathetically. “Spectacular,” Foggy says. “My best work yet.”

“Good to hear,” Matt says, giving him a friendly, encouraging pat before starting to turn away. “I’m going to take a shower to thaw out. You mind?”

“No,” Foggy replies, definitely not thinking about warming Matt up himself. “I mean, it’s not like the heat in this place is anything to write home about.”

“I meant, you don’t need the bathroom before I go in there?”

Foggy shakes his head, clearing out the cobwebs. “Oh, no, go ahead.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait, Matt…”

“Yeah?”

Foggy licks his lips, thinking about his incredibly stupid plan and decides he’d rather get it over with now, so that if it crashes and burns, Matt will go take his shower and Foggy can suffer his embarrassment alone and in relative peace. He can even sneak out of the apartment, if it goes really, really poorly.

“I just remembered, I, uh, had a question for you,” he says, trying to seem nonchalant about it.

Matt shifts to face him more fully and crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay. Shoot.”

“Are you doing anything Friday?” Foggy asks, feeling like his heart is beating in the vicinity of his throat. “Night, I mean. Friday night.”

“Uh, no?” Matt answers, hesitantly. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“I was thinking we could go to the movies,” Foggy says. “I mean, I want to go to the movies and I hate going alone, so if you’d—it’d be my treat, since I want to go and you maybe don’t—but if you’d go with me, that would be, well…good.”

“Oh,” Matt says, softly and with some confusion. “Well, I don’t really go to the movies much, for…obvious reasons.”

Foggy’s face heats. “Right, of course. I know. I just…I could describe stuff, when there’s no dialogue. I’ve done that before…with you…”

“Sure,” Matt says, looking slightly uncomfortable. “But the, uh, other thing is…well, Friday is Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh, I hadn’t actually realized,” Foggy replies, faintly. He had known, of course. He was counting on everyone around them being gooey in love to embolden him and maybe soften the ground a little. Holiday love rituals had gotten him this far, after all. “You probably have plans, or you want to keep it open for a girl, or something.”

Matt shakes his head, frowning. “No, no, it’s not that,” he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets uncomfortably. “It’s just that the movies will be packed with people on dates and we’ll be ruining the mood talking through the whole picture.”

“Yeah,” Foggy says, sadly. “You’re probably right. I, uh, just thought…well, I needed a carrot on a string to get me through this essay and I thought if I said I’d go to…never mind. I’m acting nuts and I hadn’t realized, about Valentine’s Day and all, so it’s—”

“Foggy,” Matt interrupts, gently, “you know, if you’re still upset about Marci getting engaged and Valentine’s Day is going to be tough for you this year, you can just say that.”

Foggy just blinks at him, utterly surprised by this. “What?”

Matt huffs, like he doesn’t really want to have to say any of this but he has to. “I just, you don’t have to lie,” he explains. “If you need company on Friday, just say so! I don’t mind. Valentine’s Day puts ideas into girls’ heads anyway, so I don’t mess around with it. We can do something the two of us. But be honest enough to tell me the real reason, okay?”

Foggy is nodding along with all of this like it makes all the sense in the world, when really his insides are in turmoil. Because his lie absolutely didn’t work and Matt saw through it immediately, but he’s also given Foggy the perfect new excuse—a better one, even. Matt will absolutely forego any other plans to support Foggy in his time of need. He’d get what he wants, which is to spend Valentine’s Day with his…well, his crush, and he wouldn’t have to admit anything right now. But he’d get it by lying, and that’s the sticking point. Because Matt just asked him not to do that and Foggy’s stupid and idealistic and, deep down, honest. He wants this thing, but he wants even more to get it honestly, which is just not going to happen.

He’s still nodding when he says, “That’s sweet of you, Matt, but you—you’re wrong. I mean, that’s not why I asked.”

Matt’s head tips to the side in interest. “Oh?”

The nice thing about being in love with someone who’s blind, Foggy realizes now, is that he doesn’t feel any pressure to look Matt in the eyes when he confesses his feelings. He’s staring at the floor, in fact, when he says, “I asked you out because I want to take you out. On a date.”

“You want to—on a date?”

Foggy laughs, a little bitterly, at the shock in Matt’s voice and doesn’t check to see if it’s visible on his face. Everyone wants to date Matt; how could this possibly be that much of a surprise?

“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

“Why?”

Foggy laughs again and then sighs. In for a penny… “Well, what I’d really like to do is kiss you again and I think the old adage is that I should buy you dinner first.”

There’s a pointed silence after he says that, like Matt is trying to make him think about what he’s done and really stew in it. And it should be brutal, really it should, but the truth is, he feels better than he has in at least a month. It’s hurt more than he’s realized to keep this in, to lie and make excuses when he stares at Matt a little too long or wants him too much. There’s a chance this will ruin their friendship forever, that Matt’s actually deeply offended and sickened right now and will demand he leave or something equally dramatic, that Matt will react violently, as some men do, to the idea that another man wants him like that. But, more likely, it will just make things weird between them for a while, it will change their dynamic in some ways, but mostly, Matt will just know. About Foggy. And that feels…nice, in some way. Just to tell someone, to not be alone with the idea anymore. Even if he doesn’t get what he wants out of it.

“I thought a movie ticket would suffice,” Foggy continues, since Matt clearly isn’t going to say anything. “And a popcorn. I’m not a cheapskate, after all.”

“Foggy,” Matt interjects, sounding raw. It’s only then that Foggy chances to even look at him and his expression is open and…hurt. That’s not what Foggy was expecting at all. “Please…”

“Please what?” Foggy asks, breathless. He doesn’t dare to hope…

“Please don’t do this,” Matt says, and crushes that faint ember of hope immediately. “It was one kiss. It’s not a big deal. We don’t have to—“

“I know we don’t have to, Matt. I’m saying I want to. I want you.”

“You don’t. You’re confused, and lonely, and it’s just—“

“Matt, please,” Foggy says, holding up a hand to forestall him, “it’s okay. You can reject me, that’s fine, but do me the courtesy of not telling me how I feel, alright? I know how I feel, much better than you do.”

“I’m sorry,” Matt replies, shakily, like he’s trying hard not to cry and of all the things in this conversation that could break Foggy’s heart, it’s that. Not the parts about him or his own feelings, but knowing that he’s made Matt want to cry. Matt’s his favorite person in the whole world. Foggy never wants him to cry, least of all because of him. That’s the worst case scenario. “I’m glad you told me, really—“

“Okay,” Foggy snorts. “There’s no need for you to lie either.”

“I mean it, though! I am glad. And I’m—I love you, Foggy. This doesn’t change anything.”

It will change plenty, Foggy thinks, but he knows what Matt means. He means that they’ll still be best friends, and roommates, and they’ll still be here for each other. It means that Matt doesn’t mind that he’s…well, queer and that’s…something. It would be worth a lot more to him if it wasn’t on the heels of a rejection, so Foggy imagines one day he’ll be able to appreciate it, once the hurt of the other thing fades. If he’s good at one thing in this life, it’s brushing off rejection. He’s had his fair share of practice.

“Thanks,” is what he manages to say, staring at the floor again.

“It’s for the best,” Matt says. “It wouldn’t be like you think it would. I’d disappoint you, I promise, and then we’d ruin everything.”

Foggy picks his head up at that. As rejections go, it’s an odd tact to take. He’s had more than one girl do the whole ‘you’re too good for me and that’s why we won’t work’ routine with him and it never feels genuine. Matt’s talking like that now, except he’s shaking and stuttering his way through it, which either means he does genuinely believe it or he’s the world’s greatest actor. Foggy assumed the genuine feeling in what Matt’s saying was because he genuinely loves Foggy as a friend and hates to hurt him. But what if—?

“Matt,” Foggy says, softly, “I need to ask you something. And I promise I’m not being a sore loser or anything like that, but I need you to answer honestly.”

Matt fidgets where he’s standing, looking very much like someone who’s going to lie no matter what. “Alright,” he says, instead, the word coming out like a breath.

“Are you saying no because you really don’t want me at all?” Foggy asks, heart in his throat again. “Or are you saying no because you think you should?”

Matt’s expression turns pained. “Foggy…”

“Because I’ve been listening to what you’re saying—really, I have—and I haven’t actually heard you say that you don’t want this. That you don’t want me, I mean. You’ve just said it’s a bad idea, and it would go wrong, and you’d disappoint me, but you haven’t actually said no…”

“Don’t make me say it,” Matt whispers, with a white knuckle control over himself that Foggy envies. “Just, please, don’t.”

“I need you to,” Foggy says, and is disappointed to feel tears in his own eyes now. “I need you to, Matt, so I can stop hoping.”

Matt shakes his head, and Foggy prepares himself for it. To hear the word ‘no’ and start living in a world where he was stupid enough to ask for this in the first place. He thinks he’s tough enough to bear it, but it will be something to bear. He won’t be able to carry it off lightly, not for a long time, he imagines.

Matt takes another shaky breath, and lets it out slowly. “This is a bad idea,” he says, and Foggy’s never crossed a room faster in his life.

He’s never going to forget, not as long as he lives, the way it feels to take Matt’s face in his hands and move to kiss him, only to find him waiting for it, eagerly. The last time had been an accident, a mistake, a surprise and it had been clumsy and shy as a result. It hadn’t been his most passionate and artful kiss in memory but it had haunted him nonetheless. This kiss is something else. It isn’t artful either but it is the expression of a month’s—of who knows how long’s—worth of passion contained haphazardly, stuffed away where it wouldn’t bother anyone. If saying what he felt out loud for the first time was freeing, this is reality altering.

He knew Matt could kiss. Of course, he could. Being handsome could get you dates, but the sort of passionate pursuit Matt so often inspired could only come from being an actual good time. But Matt can really kiss, Foggy’s just now understanding. He’d normally be more gracious and more deferential about just slipping his tongue into someone’s mouth right away, but Matt’s parting his lips and allowing him in instantly, begging for it, really. Foggy knew he was passionate, but there’s a difference between knowing and knowing and now he knows. It’s like he’s holding fire in his hands.

“Still think this is a bad idea?” Foggy asks, against his mouth. He can feel Matt’s teeth against his bottom lip, not biting down, just there as they indelicately pant into each other’s mouths.

Matt groans, and Foggy feels it like it’s everywhere. “It’s the worst fucking idea of all time,” he says, shaking his head.

Foggy nods and moves to give him a series of brief, but equally messy kisses, all of which Matt meets just as eagerly as the first one. “We could stop,” he says, “if you want.”

“You can’t—“ Matt laughs, kind of miserably. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair? We can stop! I’m not kidding.”

“I don’t want to stop,” Matt replies, burying his face in Foggy’s neck. “I mean, Jesus Christ, Foggy! You know I don’t.”

Foggy threads his fingers through Matt’s hair, his first fantasy to come to life so far. “I don’t know anything you haven’t told me, baby,” he says, emboldened by Matt swearing. He almost never does that, and he always looks all guilty and repentant afterwards. He doesn’t look guilty now, though.

Matt groans into his neck, which feels incredible, and Foggy takes the chance to kiss his temple where he can reach it. “Oh, God,” Matt says, not sounding pleased.

“What?” Foggy asks, maneuvering him so he can see Matt’s face again. “Was it the ‘baby’ thing? Because that just came out, but if you don’t like it…”

Matt shakes his head and rubs a hand over his face. “That was—I don’t know. ‘Fine’ is definitely not the right word, but…I don’t mind it.”

“You don’t mind it?”

A charming pink color rises in Matt’s cheeks. “I liked it,” he grumbles, as though it’s been bullied out of him.

“Then, what’s the matter? And don’t say nothing, because you took the Lord’s name in vain back there, so I know it was something.”

Matt shakes his head again, like he can keep whatever is bothering him at bay by just denying it enough. “It’s just…such a mess,” he says, quietly, like reality can hear them.

“It’s not such a mess, is it?”

“I don’t—I’ve never—I didn’t know you—“

“Matt,” Foggy says, holding his face, “baby, breathe, okay? It’s not—we don’t have to figure it out tonight.”

“Right, but—“ Matt pauses, chewing on his lower lip. “Everything’s different now, isn’t it?”

Foggy considers this, because a rash answer seems like the likeliest way to cause harm here. He’s had a month of thinking this over, deciding what it means in relation to who he is, figuring out how he feels about it. If he knows Matt, and if he’s had any sort of similar feelings since their first kiss, he’s shoved them somewhere dark and deep and refused to think about them at all. He’s trying to make sense of it all right now this second, which is a tall order for anybody and an even taller one for the likes of Matt.

“Some things are the same,” Foggy says, brushing a thumb over Matt’s cheekbone tenderly. “You’ve got me, same as always. We’ll figure out the rest eventually, okay? There’s no rush.”

Something about Matt’s expression says that he really wants to argue about this, but the daunting task of parsing everything this could possibly change for both of them, individually and together, must outweigh his stubbornness, because he eventually surrenders and nods. He lifts a hand up to curl around Foggy’s wrist where he’s still holding Matt’s face, his fingertips brushing against Foggy’s pulse point.

“Okay,” he says, sounding entranced by Foggy’s false confidence. “So, what now?”

“Well, I was going to let you take your shower, finally,” Foggy says, stepping back a little, “after I rudely distracted you.”

Matt wets his lips and nods, looking very distracted. “I’m not really cold anymore,” he says, with a laugh.

“One of my many talents,” Foggy replies, smiling. “I’m basically a furnace.”

“I already knew that.”

“Yeah, well…”

“I could probably still use the shower, though,” Matt says, thoughtfully.

“Yeah, go ahead. I need to work on this, anyway, and like I said, I didn’t mean to—“

“I think,” Matt interjects, slowly, like the idea’s still coming to him, “you should join me, actually.”

That stops Foggy short. “Join you?”

“Yeah,” Matt replies, licking his lips still, which…he really needs to stop that immediately.

“In the shower?”

Matt hums in agreement, and waits expectantly. “You don’t want to?” he asks, sounding surprised and…yes, disappointed.

“I don’t, um…is this something—is this code for something?” Foggy asks, feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing! I just thought if I acted like I was confident, it would—“

Matt comes closer again, and wraps his arms around Foggy’s middle before pressing a kiss to his sternum, which is covered in a thick, cable knit sweater and a few other layers besides, but he feels it like it’s directly on his skin.

“You’ve never showered with a girl, then, I take it?” Matt asks, and it’s very clear he’s trying to be patient and maybe not laugh, which Foggy appreciates, all things considered.

“Uh, no,” Foggy replies, mind reeling. No girl has ever offered and he’d never thought of it. He feels very sheltered all of a sudden. “I haven’t. Is it—is it fun?”

Matt clearly tamps down on his smile for Foggy’s benefit. “It can be,” he says, gently, “but if it’s too fast, we don’t have to…”

“Not too fast,” Foggy interjects, even though his heartbeat is already galloping away at the idea. Excitedly, though. Matt, naked. Matt, warm and wet in his arms. He can see the appeal. Easily.

“No?” Matt asks, eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. Foggy’s excitement was maybe too obvious, in retrospect.

“I mean, it’s one way to conserve hot water,” Foggy says.

“Ever the pragmatist,” Matt says, and kisses him again, searching and slow and deep. Like he’s trying to pull Foggy under with him. “We can still take it slow,” he adds, when he’s got Foggy good and pliant.

Foggy nods, obedient. He’s struggling to think what Matt could ask for right now that he wouldn’t give him, but that doesn’t matter. They seem to want the same thing at the moment.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, against Matt’s mouth. “Together.”

“Together,” Matt agrees, as they continue to get lost in each other.

*

After they’ve showered and gotten themselves decent again (which takes…a while, obviously), Foggy makes them both grilled cheese sandwiches and heats up some leftover soup while Matt sits on the counter, telling Foggy about his day and looking pretty. It’s the happiest Foggy can remember being in a very long time.

Once dinner’s done and eaten, Matt banishes him from the kitchen so he can clean up and orders him to work on his essay again. It’s been a productive and rewarding study break by any metric, so Foggy doesn’t argue, even though he wants to. He doubts his professor gives extensions for lovesickness, anyway. Not without a doctor’s note, at least.

Matt’s iron will only lasts an hour, until he comes to find Foggy working in the living room and starts kissing his neck without preamble. It’s pretty clear from that that the studying portion of the evening is now over, so Foggy picks him up and presses him into the couch cushions and does his level best to get Matt to take the Lord’s name in vain some more.

A few hours, and a lot more fooling around, later finds them in Foggy’s bed, because the radiator in Matt’s room has been making weird noises that they’ve had no luck talking their super into fixing so far. There’s the comforting sound of the functioning radiator running in the background, and the light rhythmic tapping as sleet hits the windows, and the noises of traffic on the street below, but mostly Foggy is just listening to Matt breathe as they lie together in the dark. He’s also playing with Matt’s hair again, because his daydreams didn’t do justice to how soft it would be and how quickly Matt would turn into a lap cat when he did it.

“Foggy,” Matt says, into the quiet, his voice soft and nearing sleep.

“Hmm?”

“You said something about Valentine’s Day.”

“When?” Foggy asks, wondering if he’d somehow fallen asleep and muttered to himself without realizing it. “Just now?”

“No. Earlier. You said you wanted to go to the movies.”

“Oh, right,” Foggy replies. “I was just…we don’t have to do that, I mean…”

“I still think the movies might not be a good idea,” Matt says, carefully. “But I, uh—I’ll still be around, you know. If you wanted to do something else…”

Foggy’s heart flips over in joy and excitement and a dozen other emotions he can’t identify, but he tries to maintain an outward appearance of calm, at least. “Are you saying you want to be my Valentine, Matt?” he asks, smiling unrepentantly.

There’s a long pause that very clearly telegraphs whatever Matt says next will be a lie. “I’m not saying that,” he replies, finally, almost a full minute later.

“Right,” Foggy says, just barely suppressing a laugh. “You’re just saying that you’re free on Friday, which just so happens to be Valentine’s Day, and that you’d like to spend it with me…”

“Right.”

“But you don’t want to be my Valentine.”

“I’m not saying that either.”

“So you’re not saying you want to be my Valentine, but you’re not saying you don’t want to be my Valentine? Have I got that right?”

“More or less,” Matt mumbles.

“I’d be your Valentine,” Foggy says, “for what it’s worth.”

Matt nods distractedly, looking slightly seasick and completely out of his depth. “Okay.”

Foggy decides then that the nice thing to do here is to put Matt out of his misery for the time being. “How would you feel about maybe staying in?” he asks, leaning in to kiss him again. “Rather than going out?”

Matt meets him in the middle, happily, qualms momentarily forgotten. “I feel strongly in favor of the idea,” he says, as their lips meet.

“It’s a date, then.”

[feliciadraws]

Hey guys I am terribly sorry about the lack of manga updates as of late, I kind of took another unannounced hiatus and haven’t worked on it since May (some life stuff and a few health issues deciding to be a pain in the backside, as well as DnD taking up some of my time hehe) but despair not! I’m back working on it and sharing another snippet with Ammy and Kokari!

[casbitchh]

not to brag but i just got an update on my retirement fund that if i retire at 68 i’ll have $10 a week until i die at 90 😎

[pepprs]

i do not want to get out of bed omfg. this week has been so fucking insane im exhausted but we have aprogram tonight until 7 and i have to facilitate and there are a million things to do today

[beloveds-embrace]

(Arranged marriage to duke john price except it means you married four instead of one 👁️👁️)

Your marriage to Duke Price is one out of necessity: you need a husband before high society begins rumoring you to be a barren woman and too old to be married off, and Duke Price needs a wife who is able to take on Duchess duties of his duchies.

You do not expect love, though you suppose it’d be a nice bonus. You are merely glad that Duke Price is a reasonable handsome man, and he informs you on your wedding night that he will not force himself on you, and there is no need to immediately begin attemtping for an heir.

You take admirably to your new duties, have been raised practically for this purpose though the head butler Kyle is wonderful in helping you as well- actually all the servants have been wonderful towards you. You have regular dinners with John, though they are a bit stilted but at least Chef Johnny’s food is good enough you can easily forget the tense atmosphere. You can tell your husband is hiding something- you are sometimes barred from going to his office to him, certain rooms are not allowed for you, and you are not allowed anywhere near the letters addressed to him- but as long as it isn’t hurting you, why should you bother him? So you never ask, and he seems happy enough that you don’t.

Until you accidentally stumble upon him and Duke Riley exchanging tongues. Very heatedly, hands grasping and tugging on each other’s clothes and Duke Riley sat on your husband’s desk.

It’s hot.

What’s not so hot is the way they both look at you when they realize you are there. You stutter, face a red so fierce it’d put a furnace to shame, and bolt out of the room despite hearing John call your name.

And you also skip out on the dinners for now, pretending you are sick with the help of your maids and their makeup skills.

But suddenly, it’s like your eyes have been opened. It’s not just Duke Riley who seems to hold a part of your husband’s heart; the one time you gather enough courage to maybe go speak with John and address the situation, you see Kyle stumbling out all disheveled and flushed, though he has a very satisfied air around him. He freezes when he sees you, and your jaw drops.

“My lady-“

“I- I’ll just- I’m taking a walk! Alone!”

You go to the kitchens instead, hoping that Johnny would have something delicious you can eat. Maybe something cold enough to wash away the blush on your cheeks.

Johnny is weirdly silent, however, even as he whips up chocolate mousse for you. His silence is not normal, it feels… almost guilty…

You sighs, take in a deep breath, and gather your dress. “Johnny… are you too…-?”

“Aye, m’lady. But-“

You can’t take it anymore. You leave the kitchens, and go straight back to your bedroom to bury your face in your bed. It’s not as if you are upset! It’s just- a rather befuddling situation?

Two nights later, it’s John himself who comes to you. You had assumed it was one of your maids returning with a new jar of oil for your nightly hair routine, but it’s your husband. You are glad it’s winter, and you aren’t simply in a thin nightgown.

“Wife.” He says, voice steady yet strained.

“John.”

You can’t call him husband. You’ve spent the last two days thinking and you were… rather sad. You were in the way of whatever they had (you saw Kyle and Johnny kissing, Johnny specifically sending food addressed to Duke Riley), weren’t you?

John sighs, sitting down on the settee while you remain on your vanity. After a moment of awkward silence, he opens his eyes and looks at you. “…what do you want to remain silent about this?”

You blink, raising an eyebrow. “…huh?”

John’s fists clench. “How much do you want in return for your silence?”

Frowning, you set your brush down and fully turn to him even if you feel exposed despite your thicker nightgown. “Is this about your… partners?” You say the word delicately, then shake your head. “I want nothing, John. If you are worried about me starting anything, I won’t. I just… hope this doesn’t mean you will divorce me?”

Being a divorced woman might as well be a death sentence on its own.

He looks at you, shocked into silence, and you quickly explain; his relationships have nothing to do with you and you aren’t a petty woman, who are you to come between what he and they have? You only hope this won’t take away the protection this marriage gave you.

That night, thus, you and John reach an agreement you are sure both of you are satisfied with.

Except, months later, John is no longer satisfied.

With the ice broken between the two of you. The dinners have become so much more… relaxing and comfortable, far less than they had been. No secrecy was needed when you were around anymore, and you only giggle and look away, feigning innocence when they share tender kisses between one another… and the less polite kisses.

John can’t remain satisfied with this arrangement. You are such a sweet thing, now that he’s become to know you far better. He can see the way his men are looking at you now, something between fondness and hunger and want; Kyle helps you far more often now, despite your insistence that you can do it yourself. Even when you do it yourself, he stays by you and ensures you are comfortable.

And he joins your evening walks, arms looped as the two of you speak, laughing and giggling.

It’s similar to your late night chats with Johnny, where he plies your full of sweets and desserts until even your dreams are full of sweeter kisses you are sure will never be for you. Johnny, who cooks your favorites on hard days and who you heard from Kyle is even more serious about only having the best of the best in vegetables and meats and seasonings.

And Duke Riley… for all his stoicism, he is gentle with you. Even when he’d stared at you with doubt and mistrust, no doubt believing you to be lying to John and simply waiting for the shoe to drop and for you to ruin them. Yet it never happens, and now, during the galas you attend all dolled up on John’s arm and ignoring all murmurs about still having no children, you even dance with him and giggle at his terribly dry jokes, even share a few of your own with him.

Steadily, slowly, obliviously, John has watched each of his men fall for you. This, obviously, made you theirs. It made you his, more and more than you already were.

It’s why your current request is making him clench his glass in his hand, with Kyle looking on in displeasure as well, giving him subtle glances.

“-So that’s why I was asking, John,” you remain sweetly oblivious, adorned in a pretty dress Simon had gotten for you recently. “He will not spread any rumors, I’ll personally make sure of that-”

Your cheeks darken then, and you glance away. “I- I am… merely a bit- unsatisfied, if you understand my point. And the stable man is loyal to you, he wouldn’t say anything.”

It’s clear he needs to keep a better watch over you. Where and when did you even interact with his stable boy, Graves? Though he focused on your words.

Unsatisfied.

Well, he can’t have that, can he? You’ve done your wifely duties so admirably, it’s about time he took care of you as well… and maybe dealt with the baseless barren rumors as well. A baby would keep you nice and content and focused on them alone, wouldn’t it?

Oh yes. Yes, it would.

dukedom au masterlist

Part two

[terrainofheartfelt]

I am so truly madly deeply tired today this does not bode well for the upcoming holy week

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[chlorinecake]

— YOU'RE RIGHT, BABY | 𝐂.𝐁𝐂

▹ PAIRING: soft!dom fiancé bangchan x f. reader

▹ SYNOPSIS: Chan gets a little upset upon realizing that you weren’t wearing your engagement ring, but you make it up to him by letting him fuck you in his studio after a long day of work…

▹ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, kissing, teasing, dry humping and heavy petting, mentions of food, breeding kink + cream pie (chan’s a possessive freak and in love with the idea of getting you preggers lol), dirty talk, light breath play (f. receiving), pet names (good girl, baby), that’s about it

▹ WORD COUNT: 1.8k — DAY 2

BEING THE AMAZING partner you are, you decided to stop by the studio where your fiancé was working and bring him some dinner, and by dinner, I mean a box full of his favorite takeout foods:

Grilled beef, steamed rice, broccoli teriyaki, and a chicken egg roll…

He was working a few hours overtime that day, and aside from the fact that you wanted him to have something good to eat after expending such efforts, you really just missed his presence…

You missed looking at his gorgeous face and hearing his adorable voice while he did absolutely nothing but vibe with you… you missed having his hands on you and your hands on him as you both got lost in the lusts of your own hearts—

“Chris,” your voice came out gently as you stood behind him, caressing over his tense shoulders while he remained seated in his desk chair, “just rest your little head, baby… you worry too much…”

“I do… you’re right…” he sighs deeply while leaning his head back against the headrest to look at you, the smell of takeout distant in the room.

His eyes are clearly tired as you know he’s been overworked lately, but you hold yourself from bringing it up to him, placing a gentle kiss to the center of his forehead instead.

“Thanks for stopping by, though, princess,” he went on, and you already feel like he’s trying to push you away, despite how you literally just got here, “I have to get back to work now, though—”

“You’re always getting back to work, Channie…” you chuckle slightly, and his eyes flutter shut as your thumbs come across a particularly tight muscle in his left shoulder…

Digging in, you massage the knot gently, but the pressure you apply doesn’t feel so soothing at first—

“Ouch, that hurts!” Chan exclaims with a wince, and you simply smooth over his skin with your touch, massaging a different area instead as you decided to give that spot time to heal on its own.

“Look… your body’s aching as if you’ve been working in a field all day… that’s why I’m here to make you feel better,” you return, and his body is clearly starting to relax the more and more your fingers smooth along the base of his neck and back down his shoulders again, soft hums coming from his throat at the sensation.

“But you don’t have to, love…” he says, voice a little weak as the warmth of your touch reeled him into relaxation, “just having you around is making me feel better already…”

“Aww,” you pout facetiously, even though he can’t see it from where he’s sitting, “You missed me, Channie?… Your very own nagging fiancé?…”

“Nooo,” he corrects, turning in his chair now to get a proper look at you, “I missed my beautiful wife to be, and my adoring partner in crime…”

Reaching out a hand, the veins in his arm appear highlighted under the dim studio lighting as he guides your face into his before giving you a kiss that you both smile into… weakly though, considering how it’s literally 4 in the morning...

Breaking from the contact, you tug at his wrist slightly, not letting go until he finally gets up from the chair, letting you lead him to sit on the couch.

The look on his face now very clearly lets you know what’s on his mind, but you simply decide to sit on his lap in a straddle position, wanting him to make the first move from here…

And he did.

“Can I?” He asks while lifting his hands from the couch cushion, hovering them over your hips and being careful not to touch until you allowed him to.

“Of course, silly,” you chuckle, making him blush slightly at your brief fit of laughter.

“It’s not like anyone’s here to tease us for it,” you went on, thinking back to the countless times that your fiancé’s friends (specifically Minho and Han) would outwardly gag whenever you two publicly display affection—

“You’re right, baby… no one’s around to bother us,” Chris breathes in agreement, finally letting his eager hands rest at your hips before adding a bit of pressure as he caressed up your waist and along your thighs, “The two of us could practically get away with doing anything we want for the next few hours in here…”

You didn't even have to ask to know what he was specifically implying, but you decide to play dumb anyway, just because you absolutely loved hearing his strong Aussie accent come out whenever he was sexually worked up with you…

“Takeout’s still waiting to be opened, Chris,” you whisper, letting your nails gently drag against his scalp as he melts into your touch, his silky curls looping around your fingers, “we shouldn’t keep it out for too long or else it might spoil…”

“Well I’m not in the mood to eat anymore,” he whispers back in a raspy voice, and you let your weight sink further into his lap, your bottom resting right above the spot his true hunger was pulling him most.

“Use your words, baby… tell me what you want,” You press, leaving a kiss along his clenched jawline… and another one on his pretty thick lips… and a third one against his Adam’s Apple that makes him groan out loud…

Or maybe his groan had more to do with the way you were also rocking your hips against his clothed hard on, making his hands slightly grip at the fabric of your jeans for any sort of leverage.

“Why… of all the bottoms that you own, did you close to wear tight, denim jeans at a time like this?” He asks with frustration, making you giggle a bit at the way his chest rises and falls every time you circle in his lap, the rough material tantalizing him…

“Don’t you think they make my ass look good, though?” You tease with a pout, watching as he smirks at your question, only to hiss at your movements again.

“They make your ass look great, babe… but they also make it impossible for me to touch you properly…”

He was doing it again, you thought to yourself… That thing where he gets you to do what he wants without specifically asking.

Yes, Chris was a typically a pretty confident guy, but sometimes, you had a way of bringing out his shy, reluctant side when it came to sexual things, but you still found it cute nonetheless.

“Fine, then… since you’re too shy to ask for it properly, I’ll just do it myself,” you say in a bratty tone while getting up from his lap, and he visibly scoffs at the way you stood before him now, fingers meddling with the buckle of your jeans until he stopped you.

“C’mere,” he huffs, pulling you close to him by the belt loop of your jeans until you fall into the couch beside him with a gentle plop.

His smirks again once he finally unzips the rough fabric just enough to see a leak of what’s beneath, and the expression is so wide that his dimples come through…

At first, you’re not sure why he’s a grinning mess, but you understand once his fingers run over the lace of your black panties, the same pair that he brought you a while back on one of his tours cross-country.

“I’ll take a wild guess and say you wore these for me, huh?” He asks with a husk to his tone now that you’re bumping your knee against his clothed hard-on, and his hips subconsciously chase the friction.

“Mhm,” you hum softly, lifting up on your elbows now to look at him better, “I just didn’t expect you to take so long to get ‘em off me…”

“How cute,” he returns, and your eyes follow the veins trailing his forearm, his flexed fingers hooking at either side of your hips before tugging your jeans the rest of the way down and past your ankles with your panties, tucking them under the couch cushion for his private use later…

“Cute?” You repeat with a raised brow, spreading your legs before him as you both watched each others cores intently, practically itching within yourself for him to finally untie his sweatpants.

“Yup. Love it when you get in your little attitudes,” he says plainly, but his smile is half-hearted now as he leans over you, bracing himself with his hands before kissing your forehead.

You try to follow where his eyes are looking, but his bangs are in the way, and you can’t help but ask him what the matter is…

However, he doesn’t answer immediately, simply taking your hands in his and placing a kiss to l the closed knuckles of your left hand, right before pinning your wrist at either side of your head on the couch.

And that’s when it hits you… the reason behind his sudden change in aura:

You forgot to put your engagement ring on…

You had only taken it off for a second before coming to meet him in the studio because some oil from the takeout bag had spilled on your hands… while washing up in the bathroom, you had put the ring in your purse and simply forgot to put it back on…

Though, you knew at this point it’d be worthless trying to get that story through Chan’s thick skull, as he had already made up in his mind that you were playing games with him…

“Where’s your ring, baby?” Your fiancé asks while shimmying down his boxers and trousers with one hand, and you near choke on air at the sight of his glossy and girthy tip springing out before you, red and angry with need.

“I-it’s in my purse,” you stammer, almost feeling guilty now that you had even forgot to put it back on in the first place, “I can go and get it—”

“No need,” he interrupts you, lining himself up with your entrance as the depth of his voice equally catches you off guard, “just make sure you put it back on after this, yea?”

You winced at the sudden stretch of his cock filling you up just right, and your hips are already trembling at the delicious fullness.

“Channie… it slipped my mind, baby… please,” you say, and you’re not quite sure what it is that you’re begging for, but you always had a habit of going dumb around his cock, even if it’s just resting inside you.

“I gave you a simple order, love… now, do you understand me, yes or no?” He asks more sternly this time, thrusting into you with a sharp hit of his hips, and you internally cringe at yourself for hiccuping at the force.

“Y-yes, I understand,” is all you manage to say as he continues slamming his hips into you at a painfully slow pace, looking you dead in the eye as you crumble beneath his intense gaze.

“Say it again,” he orders, and you listen, gripping at his biceps and biting your lip as an attempt to keep your moans in, but the little whimpers and whines end up spilling out anyway.

You can feel Chan's cock twitch inside you every time you say yes for him, especially with the way your walls are throbbing around his length as he groans the words “good girl” in the midst of it all.

“So so good for me,” he continues, grinding his hips in a way that makes his pelvis graze your clit rythmically, and you’re sure you’re seeing stars once his hand finds your neck, just resting it there to get your attention.

“Good enough to let me cum in you, huh?” He questions, but it’s more so of a suggestion than anything, and you oblige to it, nodding your head in desperation as your hips start to follow the movements of his.

“Yes, baby… w-want you to fill me up so bad,” you whimper, and he lets a groan out right after you… one that makes your stomach flutter with emotions given how beautiful it sounded.

“Gonna put a baby in your pretty little stomach,” he huffs in between fucking you open with all his strength, “and at that point, who cares if you don’t have your ring on? Everyone will know who you belong to once your tummy’s all swollen because of me… tell me who this pussy belongs to…”

“Y-you, Channie,” you blabber out pathetically, your own mouth filling with saliva at how amazing he’s making you feel right now.

“Louder…”

“It’s all- fuckkk… yours, b-baby,” you cry out, and it’s a weak cry at that given the way his hand is tightening around your throat, but you don’t mind… not one bit when it feels THIS. Fucking. Good…

He finally lets his lips find yours in a needy kiss, and a string of spit keeps y’all together as he break away to let out a moan of his own, but you’re pulling him back into you, wanting him to be as close as possible to you in this moment.

The couch starts to creak to the rhythm of his movements, and you couldn’t be more thankful for the large cushions it was made with, otherwise you’re certain the both of you would’ve been on the floor at this point.

“Feels so fucking good inside you, baby… sooo fucking good,” he grunts, and you know he’s almost close just from the way his eyebrows are screwing into adorable little crinkles, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier by the second.

“F-fuck~” you mewl against his lips, feeling the knot in your own stomach tighten as his cock hit mesmerizing places inside you.

He keeps his hand snug around your neck while looking into your eyes, and his hips can’t bare to piston into your cunt any longer once your walls clench around him, making him feel dizzy in the head.

“Cum in me,” you plead with a soft voice while, lips puffy from how hard you’d been biting them, and Chan finally lets himself go, barely getting any extra thrusts in before painting your walls with his hot release, groaning shamelessly like a porn star.

“Oh my God,” he grunts with a strained voice, using his last bit of strength to prevent himself from collapsing on top of you given how spent he is now.

“Wait, Channie,” you say, thighs still trembling a bit as he pulled out of you, a bit too early though for you to remind him that his cum would only spill out—

“Shit,” he swears under his breath upon realizing, rushing to catch the fluid spilling from your cunt now with his fingers, trying not to get it on the couch, but to no avail.

He instead lets his fingers push the cum back into you, holding his wrist there until he’s able to reach for a napkin off of his desk to help clean you up.

“Stop that, baby,” he says with a mischievous smile, but only because your walls were sucking his digits in, preventing him from taking them out to clean them off, “give me some time to recharge and then we can go again, okay?…”

All you can bring yourself to do is hum at his words, and he in turn offers you another gentle smile.

Applying light pressure to your lower stomach, he finally gets your walls to release his fingers from the confines of your sloppy hole, wiping the residue off with the napkin.

“Didn’t expect you to cum this much,” you say in a sleepy tone while reaching for your jeans to slide them back on.

“Me neither,” he chuckles, readjusting his pants before getting up to toss the soiled napkin in the bin nearby, “but uh... just know that if in three weeks, we find out that our first future child was conceived on this couch, never tell this story to anyone…”

⋆♱✮ Huge thanks to everyone who made it to the end of this fic, concluding DAY 2 of my Kinktober Event !! This was also my first time publishing any written work for Stray Kids (my ult group XD) so feel free to tell me how I did in the comments !! Finally, if you're interested in reading more works like this, check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist here by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408

also, check out THIS fic NEXT if you're interested in more...

[satoruan]

r/ATIA for WHAT!? w/Jujutsu Kaisen  

More: Fem!Reader, dark & explicit content, dubcon, piss kink, necrophilia, manhandling, choking, coercion, teacher x student, power dynamics, blackmail, threesome, Cuck!Gojo, drinking. unedited

Featuring: Nanami Kento, Choso Kamo, Ryomen Sukuna, Gojo Satoru

PART 2

r/fuckingmystudent posted by u/Nanami_Kento 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you try to recall the events that lead you to get your brains fucked by your professor. He caught you filming a video for your Onlyfans in his class. So, he took your phone and asked you to meet him in his office after class. There, he forced you to unlock your phone and show him what exactly you were recording. It was utterly humiliating and watching him, watch you, finger yourself with a pen underneath the desk. After, he’d told you that he’d tell the dean you were getting off on his voice lecturing you unless you did something for him.  Which led you ass up on his desk, trying your hardest not to make a peep as his fat cock slammed in and out of you. “Now, what I'm going to do is take out my cell,” He grunts, rolling his hips deep into you. “And record you slamming your ass onto my cock so if you decide to open that sweet mouth of yours, I'll have no choice but to send this video to mommy and daddy back at home, understand?” You nod, tears forming in your eyes from the threat or incoming orgasm, probably both. “Say ‘Yes, Professor!’ and maybe I'll send you the video so you can post it and feed yourself this week.” 

r/peeinginher posted by u/choso_Kamo 

Ankles beside your head, Choso had you folded in half as he pounded into your swollen cunt. He’d been going for what felt like hours and you were about to reach another peak when he abruptly stopped. “Choso?” you rasp, voice raw from screaming. “What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, staring up at him as he stares down at your glistening cunt. He just tilts his head and continues to stare. You’re about to ask again when he blinks from whatever trance he is in and starts thrusting in and out, slower this time. “Nothin’ baby, jus’ gotta piss.” “T-then stop and go, hm–” you gasp when he pushes your legs down further. “Stop and go to the bathroom Cho.” you try to pull his hands off your calves. Choso tightens his hold and grins down at you. “C-Choso?” “Why would I get up when I have a perfectly capable toilet right here.” Is all you hear before you suddenly feel a foreign warmth in your cunt followed by wetness trickling out your pussy.  

r/askinghertoplaydead posted by u/Ryomen_Sukuna 

“You wan’ me to do what?” You ask, staring up at him from your position between his legs. “I asked you to stop suckin’ my cock and hang off the bed like a drugged-up bitch on her last life.” He stares at you with a look that tells you he isn’t truly asking. “B-but ‘Kuna—” He grabs your throat. “Don’t you wanna make me happy, hm?” You grab the hand around your neck. “Mhm.” “This ‘ll make me happy, little girl,” He plants a firm kiss on your lips. “Now do as I told you, actually I’ll do it, I know you aren’t the best at following orders.” He says before pushing you back like a ragdoll. “Yes, now lay there, don’t move, don’t speak.” Sukuna reiterates, finally satisfied with your position, naked on your stomach with your head hanging off the bed. He wastes no time shoving his big cock into your cunt. You groan from the sudden intrusion “Kuna!” “Shut up, dead bitches don’t fuckin’ make sounds.”  

r/forcinga3some posted by u/Gojo_Satoru 

“Sit on his cock love,” Gojo demands, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you onto Suguru’s lap. “S-Satoru!” “’ Toru!” You and Geto screech at the same time. “C’mon guys, it’s fine I don’t mind, Loosen up!” Gojo looks at you on his best friend's lap and his cock twitching underneath his pants. He palms it. Don’t worry, we’ll have our turn. “I know you two want to fuck, c'mon! Do I really have to pull it out and shove it up your tight cunt?” Goji grits out, increasingly frustrated when the two of you stare at him like a pair of deer in headlights. “Baby, I-it was just a truth or dare question!” Your head aches and you put both of your hands on Suguru’s broad shoulders to stable yourself, trying and failing to ignore his hard under your panty-covered pussy. “Was it? So, you aren’t wet right now? And you Suguru? You aren't rock fucking hard at the thought of fucking the same pussy I cum in every night?” Gojo raises his eyebrow holding eye contact with you until you look away, face flushed. Suguru sighs, throwing his head back with murmured ‘fuck this.’ before grabbing your waist. “Yes! That’s what I thought. Ha!” Gojo laughs, watching as Suguru starts grinding you down on his bulge.  

[2cupids]

warnings. popular!reader, oral (m. receiving), tittyfucking, tiny bit of degradation, cüm eating. mdni (17+).

wc. 1.9k… read part 1 here!

weeks had passed and a new semester had begun since that encounter with nerd!choso and it was a nearly forgotten memory in your head.

but for choso?

he thought about it everyday. it was like a driving force that helped him push through each day and he could only dream of getting so lucky again.

so the moment he saw you walking towards him as class was being dismissed, your ridiculously short skirt swaying as you moved, he knew his prayers had been answered.

“you busy? i need you to write that research paper for me.” you ask nonchalantly as you swipe the wand of your lipgloss across your bottom lip, reapplying it.

choso’s in a trance as he watches you put your gloss on your pretty lips. you were so alluring, so gorgeous. seconds pass and still no answer. you sigh and roll your eyes, looking down at choso and making contact with his bright eyes as he stares at you.

“well?” you furrow your eyebrows as your patience grows shorter and the nerdy boy has yet to answer. choso’s heart flutters at your harsh tone and he swallows the lump in his throat before he finally answers.

“n-no, i’m not busy. i could have it done by saturday.”

your hardened expression instantly softens at his words and you give him one of your sweet smiles. “good. i’ll pick it up on sunday.”

as you turn to walk away, choso stops you. “wait! um.. wh-what do i get for helping you?” choso asks quietly, averting his eyes down to look at your legs. he can’t look you in the eyes.

you turn to him, eyeing him up and down. “and who the hell are you to ask me that?” you smirk at him, but your tone is condescending. you’re offended he would even ask that. “you don’t need to worry about that, i’ll figure out it. just get my paper done.”

and with that, you’re walking up the stairs of the lecture hall and exiting the classroom. choso sits there for a moment, replaying what just happened and taking a moment to collect himself. he finally stands up and adjusts his pants, pulling his hoodie down to cover his boner before he leaves.

the days seem to pass by much slower than he would’ve liked until the long awaited day finally rolls around. choso’s mind is flooded with the multiple different scenarios that could play out, but hell, he would take anything you give him. and that’s only if you decide to pay him back for his kindness again this time.

he’s lost in thought when there’s a knock at his door and he rushes to open it, letting you in. his hands immediately reach for the paper and you quickly skim through it, slipping it inside your bag and setting it down on his desk.

“what should i do with you?..” you cross your arms and let your eyes trail down his figure before letting them rest on his face again. “i could make you put your mouth to use. i want my pussy ate, but i know someone like you doesn’t know how to eat it. and i don’t feel like teaching you either. just go sit on the bed.”

you wonder what you can do and that’s when an idea comes to you. you walk over to him and kneel down in front of him. “so where’s your bottle of lube?”

choso’s taken back. how did you know he even had some? probably just a lucky guess, but then again you are much more experienced than him. “i..um.. it’s in the desk drawer over there. the first one.”

a faint smirk plays on your lips as you roll your eyes and stand up to go get the lube. you pull your top off and throw it on the floor, revealing the lacy pattern of your bra underneath as you sit back on your knees in front of choso again. your eyes catch sight of choso’s face and you laugh, it doesn’t take much to get him worked up. being the tease you are, you give your boobs a nice squeeze. why not give him a little show?

your hands rub his thighs, slowly making their way up to unbuckle his belt and take off his pants. choso eagerly lifts his hips to let you pull his pants and boxers down his legs, and it’s laughable how excited he is.

you take his cock in your hand, quietly admiring the length and girth. it’s almost like he grew from the last time you saw him. you always heard about how nerds like him were packing, but you just thought it was a joke.. that was til choso proved you wrong of course.

his clear arousal leaks from the head of his dick and you can’t pull yourself to look away. without another thought, you lean forward and stick your tongue out, licking the precum that slid down his shaft and up towards the tip, swiping your tongue across the opening, collecting the salty liquid straight from the source. your pretty lips wrap around it and your cheeks hollow slightly while you circle your tongue around his tip.

choso groans and instinctively bucks his hips up. never did he think the guys he saw in porn were exaggerating when he watched a girl give them head, but he never expected it to feel so good. or maybe it just feels so good because the pretty girl he’s crushing on is the one who’s on her knees doing it to him.

you pull off his cock and lick the corners of your mouth as you eye the glistening head of his dick. your hands reach back and undo the clasps of your bra, letting your heavy breasts free as you pull the bra straps down.

choso’s eyes are locked on your every move and his lips part slightly as he watches you reveal your breasts to him. he’s never seen something so beautiful in his life.

“… so pretty.” he whispers more to himself, but it’s loud enough for you to hear.

the corner of your lips curl yet again as you glance up at him. “of course they are, dummy.”

you toss your bra onto the bed and reach for the bottle of lubricant, spreading the lube along his dick before taking one breast in each hand and nestling choso’s cock in between your chest.

choso nearly melts from the warmth that your boobs bring, then you start moving them up and down his length and it feels like heaven.

like the first encounter with you did. a pretty girl with her tits wrapped around his cock.. damn. not to mention the occasional moments when your tongue comes out and flicks over the opening. he can’t help but feel truly blessed.

you can’t miss the way choso’s face twists in pleasure with each drag of your breasts up and down his length even if you wanted to. the soft pants and groans that leave his parted lips have caused a sticky mess in between your legs, making your panties latch onto your wet cunt.

it’s not a surprise to you that choso busts quick, someone like him obviously would. his face is a dead giveaway, and so are his mannerisms and how his knuckles are white from gripping his comforter. he came fast the last time and in a way you find it oddly charming how quickly this nerd cums. what does surprise you though, is when he opens his mouth and starts to beg.

“please… please. can i t-touch them?” he whimpers, the desperation in his voice is clear. “i-i won’t ask for anything else.. just please.”

he looks down through his heavy eyelids, silently pleading with you, and you’ve got to admit that it’s hot. you bite your lip and make a small noise of approval, stopping what you’re doing and reaching for his hands to put them on your breasts.

his large hands squeeze the soft flesh, really feeling and savoring what it’s like to have a nice pair of tits beneath his palms before his hips jerk as he holds your boobs, fucking your chest.

“ohhh.” choso whines, “can i please cum? need... need your permission.” he doesn’t care how vulnerable he sounds, he just wants to hear you give him your approval.

and here you are again, finding yourself so turned on by his words that they’ve got your pussy clenching. you can’t let on that you’re having a change of heart towards him though, so you scoff. “what the fuck are you asking me for you fucking freak? of course you can.”

leaning back on your hands slightly so you have a better view, you watch choso start to come undone right in front of you. his eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth hangs open, letting the whiniest sounds tumble out of his mouth that you’ve ever heard from a man. you can feel his trembling body come to pause as he halts his movements, a second later your tits are covered in his hot cum.

his limp body continues to lay against the bed and when he opens his eyes again, he finds you still on your knees in front of him. one of your hands is holding your chest while you pick up some of his cum on your finger with your other hand, sucking it into your mouth.

you feel his eyes on you and you repeat the action with a grin. his heart skips a beat and he fears you might be the death of him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

after getting off the floor and back on your feet you grab a few tissues and wipe your face and tits before you make a random, split second decision. “keep the bra.”

choso almost chokes when he hears you say that. he opens his mouth to protest but he decides against it, knowing that whatever sharp response you say will get him hard again. you rummage around your bag before you pull out the spare bra you always carry. after all, a girl like you never knows what trouble she might get herself into.

choso watches you fix your appearance in the mirror and you catch his eye in the reflection, holding his gaze. “you know.. you’d look fine as hell if you got rid of those things.”

what ‘things’ do you mean?

choso is very obviously confused and you walk over to him with a smirk, yanking his glasses off his face and waving them in front of him. “these things, dumbass.”

you move closer to him and stand in between his legs, running a hand through his thick, dark locks. “you might actually be able to pick up bitches then.”

for some reason, you find yourself standing there staring at him for longer than you’d like to. you eventually let go of his hair and sigh, taking a step back and walking over to grab your bag, preparing to leave.

“what a shame.” you say quietly as you open the door to leave, and you truly do think it is a shame.

you’ll never admit it out loud, but maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to find that stupid little loser cute.

taglist — @cheezemanz @tojicvmslut

cleo’s note — i know some people are probably gonna ask for a part 3, but idk if i’ll keep this going so don’t get your hopes up 🥲. thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated!