#holds doors open for him and includes him in things and holds him steady i just . RIPS MY SHIRT OFF AND FALLS TO MY KNEES

[bylertruther]

girls when byclair

[nezuscribe]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

pairing: gojo x fem!reader

summary: once childhood friends with the crown prince, you find yourself in a troubled situation when he calls for you to help him around with his daily duties as the king to be. he seems to have forgotten everything, forgotten who you even were. but as the palace's most loyal servant there's only so many things that you can tolerate, including the prince.

warnings: 18+ mdni, slight angst misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, minor panic attack/overall anxiety (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo is a certified munch

word count: 14.1k (sorry)

note: i can only write gojo in a royal setting now so that’s that. i really liked writing this fic so comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

jjk masterlist

it all started with that night.

when the air was biting, cold and harsh. the moon offered so little of her light as you ran across the open foyer, feeling your tear stained cheeks more than you had back in the ballroom as you could barely feel your heartbeat, not stopping until you were out of the grand double doors, running as fast as you could through the gardens until you were sure everything and everybody was far behind you. 

you continued for a little more, finding yourself at the foot of the rose gardens, your chest heaving up and down, sweat dotting your forehead. you were sure the rouge that you had so carefully dotted onto yourself was ruined now, but that was the least of your worries. 

you place a hand on your chest, catching your breath, looking behind you to make sure that nobody had followed you outside. most nights, such as ones like this, you enjoyed the freckles of stars above you, but now, all that filled your mind were the events of moments ago. 

the staring, the judgment. 

“is everything all right?” 

your head snaps around, your eyes wide in shock as you find a man standing behind you, a careful feet away so as to not startle you even more than he already had. you couldn't make out his face in the darkness, but with your blurry vision, you doubt you could make out your own reflection.

you nod feverishly, trying for a smile that was shaking and quivering as you turn away for a second, patting your cheeks dry as you try out for a weak laugh. 

“yes, t-thank you,” your voice cracks, your lips trembling and your breathing heavy. your uniform and apron was sticking tightly to your skin and everything seemed as if it was tilted on an axis. you felt like the world was spinning in the opposite direction, and had it not been for the strong  hands behind you that steadied you upwards, you were sure you would’ve fallen down. 

“miss, are you sure everythings alright? surely i can call for a-” the man stops when you shake your head quickly, just realizing how much trouble you were going to be in if your superior ever saw you missing from your post. 

“no, thank you, i, i have to go,” you try to stand up again but stumble, grateful that he still had a steady hand on your elbow, “i apologize, i don’t know why i’m so dizzy.” you say, holding your head in your hands, trying to ease your temple with the thumping it was doing. 

“would it perhaps be because you ran through the entire courtyard in a matter of seconds?” his voice is low yet teasing, and you should be embarrassed and mortified that somebody saw you, but you feel beside yourself tonight and laugh, nodding along.

“perhaps,” there’s a small smile on your face, but the gentleman chuckles along, helping you stand comfortably, making sure you didn’t need him until he was absolutely sure you wouldn’t topple over. 

“are you not enjoying the festivities?” he remains a good distance away from you, though you’re glad he’s given you some space. 

you swallow thickly, rubbing at your eyes and cheeks to rid them of the tears but they just seem to be non-stop. 

“the festivities aren’t the problem,” you sniffle, hiccuping as you laugh wetly, “i just seem to be too sensitive for the likes of them.” you say the last word with some weight.

you thought that after all these years, after all the times you proved you’re more than your lineage, somebody always manages to bring it up. 

he doesn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, the only sound that you can hear is your shuddered breathing. 

“take in a deep breath,” his words are soft, but your head snaps up, confused. 

“it’s a breathing exercise,” he explains further, gently, “one in, one out,” he places a sturdy hand on your back, one that was too close for if a chaperon were to ever see you in such a compromising position you would be ruined, “we’ll do it together, i’ll count.”

your eyes are squeezed shut, but you mimic your breathing to his rhythmic breathes, your mouth open as small puffs of air fill your collapsing lungs. it takes a while for this sort of breathing pattern to take effect, but it helps you to calm down a bit. your nerves are still erratic, but it’s better than before. 

“there you go,” his voice is soothing, calming, something you’ve never heard before, something you’ve never known you’ve needed.

there’s a few beats of silence, your eyes squeezed shut until you finally open them again to get a good look of who this stranger was. 

“i have to thank you…” you trail off, your breath catching harshly in your throat when you're met with those familiar eyes, the same ones you see in the paintings you are set to clean each and every day, the same ones that look at yo with childish joy when he used to chase you around the courtyard when you were children. the infamous white hair, a tale telling of his lineage, and the countless medallions on his suit.

you don’t know what to do, and you take a tentative step back. all the feelings of fear, of embarrassment, of dread coming rushing back, but ten times worse. 

“sato…y-your highness, i,” you stagger backwards, “i…” you’re at a loss for words, your breaths coming out erratic again. 

he reaches his hand out for you to take again, his brows furrowed in confusion with you sudden change of emotions, growing into even more confusion when he gets a better look at you, memories rushing back at the strange familiarity of your face, but you don’t know as you scrunch your uniform between your fingers, muttering some unintelligible words under your breath as you bow hurriedly, brushing past him as you speedily make your way back to the palace, breaking about every protocol you have been taught since your first day there,

blissfully unaware of just how much your life was about to change.

—

the life of a palace maid is a bustling one, full of daily duties that fill your time from the moment you wake up to the moment you put your head down to rest. dusting the staircases, making sure the royal portraits are in tip-top shape, and, of course, tending to any of the needs the royals themselves need. 

you were lucky in your position, not too close to the top where any slight mess up could be your undoing, but far up where you could enjoy the more tedious and rewarding of tasks that others, such as the kitchen workers or the stables servants, may not have the luxury of having. you count your lucky stars every day that you’re not stuck cleaning fru-fru’s (the king's prized horse) droppings. 

“there really are no breaks,” lydia muttered under her breath, folding the freshly cleaned linen sheets as you gave her a look from under your lashes, warning her to be careful with her words, never too sure of how alone you two could be, “what? it’s just the truth.” 

you snort, not disagreeing with her because it was the truth. there had been royal balls upon endless balls, countless gala’s and feasts for the past couple of months. the prince was finally rumored ready to take on a wife, and all the eligible bachelors and their mamas have flocked to the scene, ready to become part of the gojo family. 

the last one had been all but two weeks ago, the same one where…you couldn’t think of it too much, glad that nobody else was there to witness your trivial breakdown. all except the prince, of course, but you hadn’t been beheaded yet so you never mentioned it to anybody. 

but, despite the last social gathering being so recent, another one was about to take place in a week. everybody could feel their hands splitting raw at the thought of cleaning the palace once again, but it was all in a day's work. 

“though i must say, you always seem to find a way to entertain yourself through all these surely grueling events,” you tease, a knowing look in your eyes as an unmistakable blush takes over her cheeks. 

“well!” she exclaimed, laughing under her breath as she fanned herself with her gloved hand, picking up another sheet to fold, “if a young man displayed his notable affections towards me, i would only be mad not to entertain them.” 

“you’re such a flirt,” you giggle, careful to keep your voices quiet so that nobody would come and break the two of you up. you were fortunate enough to spend most of your time with your closest friend, but if anybody ever got a whiff of just how much the two of you enjoyed folding bed sheets or tidying up the king's study. 

“there have been countless events, and yet, there is no wife,” she says this more as a statement rather than anything, “do you think it’s because the prince is cruel?” 

she was right about this, too. it was more often than not when lydia was wrong.

it had been a couple months of trying to set the prince up with his rightful match. women from corners of the earth, places you’ve never heard of, have found their ways to these balls and galas. of course, the palace did all they could to quell the rumors on why it was taking their beloved prince so long to find a wife, and yet, they could do so much. the rumors were beginning to grow, and none in his favor.

you laugh uncomfortably, hoping that nobody could hear the two of you in this closet. 

“the prince? cruel?” you shrug, feigning indifference. 

he wasn't cruel when you met him. 

and he never was crue all those years agol, or at least from what you could recall. 

because before there was lydia, there was satoru. 

so many years ago, you and the prince were childhood friends. he somehow introduced himself one of the days you were cleaning the castle, your uniform still so large seeing how it was made for a teenager and you were yet to reach six, so you were swallowed by it. but he didn't seem to care much about who you were, rather the fact that he was able to find somebody around his age, happy to have a friend that didn’t have to practice fencing with. 

the two of you were close, as close as a prince and a young maid can get. 

you never had a semblance of a normal childhood, but for those few years that you had known him, he offered you some normality that you would've never expected from the crown prince. at nights, when the two of you would meet up in a spare closet, he’d unravel a satchel full of bread and sweets, things he had stolen from his dinner table, knowing that your meals were often far smaller than his. 

he didn’t seem to forget you, even as he grew in his adolescence. he’d still find you wherever you were, a bright smile on his face as you gave yourself a quick break, running around the gardens with him as you squealed, trying not to get caught by him as he tried to push you down into the river nearby. 

but, you tended to be more level-headed than him, and easily foresaw the day that came when his advisors found out he had been befriending the servant girl, more specifically the daughter of the town courtesan, and before you knew it, you had been swept away, promised to never mingle with him again. they couldn’t strip you bare of your position at the palace, knowing that you worked for far less than others asked for and longer than most did, but they changed your place, your rooms, and you barely saw him again. he soon forgot, and you counted yourself lucky that you were still able to have a memory to latch on to. 

“or perhaps he’s unlikely to even take a wife. he may prefer his time spent with multiple women, if you get what i mean,” she continues, your thought coming back into focus as you suddenly realize what she just said, swatting her with one of the towels while saying such an unbecoming thing about her prince. 

“or maybe he’s taking his time,” you give her a pointed look for being so crass, “he might be holding out for a love match.” you say, your gaze focused on your nimble fingers as you fold the sheets as if it were second nature, your body moving faster than your mind was. 

she snorts, rolling her eyes at your romantics. 

“you can’t-” she goes to say something but is crudely cut off by the doors behind the two of you swinging open. 

your necks snap around as you are instant to stand, bowing deeply to whoever it is that walks in, looking up only after a brief pause. 

a part of you tenses upon seeing the housekeeper, miss lottie, entering in. her graying hairs were pulled back in a tight bun, the uniform that all the maids wore ironed to perfection. though she may not be as in her youth as she once was, her face was void of wrinkles, a feat, considering her position. 

two men who you had never seen before walking in behind her, standing on either side as she motions for the both of you to introduce yourselves. lydia bows once again, saying her name, and you do the same. 

“these are the last of my girls, gentlemen,” she starts with a sigh, massaging her temple, missing the confused look you and lydia shared as she offered no explanation for what was happening, “these are the only other maids in my department that wear this uniform.” 

the two guards look at you and lydia top and down, their eyes racking over your features, your postures, your faces. you felt sweat prickling at the back of your neck, your hands growing clammy as your mouth dried. 

surely, it can’t be.

“her,” one of the guards raised his gloved hand to you. 

“her?” lydia cries out loud, earning a disapproving look from miss lottie, but the old woman seems to be just as confused as you and lydia. 

“come with us,” the other one says, opening the door further, not seeming to care about your stupified state as you grip onto lydia’s wrist as tightly as you could.

you couldn’t speak, couldn't breath. you felt like you did that night, the same dreadful feeling that filled your veins and your lungs, keeping you from taking in the air you so desperately needed. 

“gentlemen,” lydia takes a step forward, trying to shield you with her body, “i’m sure whatever it is you’re after, she,” she points her head over to you, “is certainly not it.”

this is it, you tell yourself, they’ve finally tracked you down. 

the two guards don’t pay her any mind, don’t even address nor speak to her as they push her aside, wrenching your hands away from her as they try to move you forward, trying to move you away. 

“miss lydia, please,” miss lottie almost seems to beg, has her brows furrowed in puzzlement as to what was happening, her mouth agape as she watches them take you away. 

you feel your mind go hazy, your vision turning blurry as you dumbly follow the guards out of the room, the muted shouts of your friends growing softer and softer behind you as you walk through the halls you[‘ve been walking through for nearly your entire life, 

not knowing if it would be your last. 

—

the three of you walk for a while, and it doesn't help that nauseous and sinking feeling that you have growing in the pit of your stomach. your eyes darted around, your cheeks heating up in an uncomfortable flush when you caught the glances the others servants and maids gave, the way they began instantly whispering behind their gloved hands or one another as to what could be happening. 

you quickly looked down, watching your steps. if you weren't ruined after whatever this was, the gossip that was to circulate about you surely would.

they lead you up a spiral staircase, through the east wing, and after some time, the walls and the floors begin to grow unfamiliar to you. these are the places that even you weren’t authorized to clean, places that only the most trusted and known people were allowed to be. 

you peek around through the corners of your eyes, trying to take it all in one last time. there is more gold encrusted into the painting, the wall decorum, the ceiling. it’s more grand than you even thought the palace could be, and had it not been for your doomed fate, you would’ve tried to savor it more. 

the guards in front of you suddenly stop in front of a door, and you almost bump into one of them had you not stopped yourself milliseconds before. 

one of the guards raised his fist, knocking once, letting his hands fall behind his back. 

you wait with baited breath until you hear a muffled, “come in,” from behind the door, and the other guard turns the knob, the door swinging wide open. 

the two men come in before you do, their bodies hiding the view. you stay outside, your hands shaking, waiting until further instruction. 

the guards are speaking to the person inside, their voice mixing with each other in your muddled head, and you feel your eyes begin to wet. all of your hard work, all the sacrifices you’ve made along the way, every sleepless night devoted to securing your rank and your future were now going up in flames. 

“why didn’t you tell her to come in?” the first voice grows a little louder, “come in, miss,” he calls out, and you take in a deep, shaky breath. 

you take a slow, tentative step inside, and then another one. your feet pad in quietly, your head ducked down in respect but also because you couldn't have these people seeing you like this, it was mortifying as it was. 

you bow, knowing that you were in the presence of royalty from just the atmosphere of the room alone. you go down as low as you can, almost kissing the floor with your nose. 

“you men can go now,” the voice, an all too familiar one, says. 

you hear their heavy footsteps behind you, the door shutting with a thud. 

“you can stand,” the prince says, his voice less loud and commanding. 

you slowly rise, still keeping your head down, your eyes meeting a desk, some papers, and when you finally look up, the prince. 

his smile quickly drops when he sees your face, quickly moving away from his seat as he rounds the table, making his way over to you as you quickly wipe away at your tears. it was breaking your etiquette protocol for how you were to act if you were to ever come face to face with royalty, but you don’t see any point in acting in such a way when this is somehow quite similar to your first encounter. 

“are you hurt?” he quickly asks, standing a foot away from you, his eyes darting around your body as you quickly shake your head, sniffing as you stand as perfectly still as you could. 

“were my guards rough with you?” he looks behind himself at the door, “i will have a word with them immediately-” 

but you shake your head again, swallowing thickly as you dip your head down once, going to speak. 

“it was not the guards, your highness,” you feel like time is stopping as he stares intently at you, “i just have an apathy for being too emotional at times.” you try to joke, but with the way your heart was beating so loudly and erratically, it drowned out any humor you may have been trying for. 

“is it perhaps because you’ve been called to the prince's study with no reason or explanation?” he jokes, his eyes look at you from beneath his long lashes and you laugh wetly.

“perhaps,” you accept the handkerchief he gives you with a small thank you.

you wipe at your tears, quickly composing yourself with taking a couple of more steady breaths, and you were glad that the prince was at least giving you this time to look a little more presentable until he sentenced you to your punishment. 

“right, well,” he claps his hands together, a small smile on his face as he inches backwards until he’s able to sit on his desk, not caring for the slue of papers underneath, “i’m glad i was finally able to find you.”

find you?

you don’t say anything, your eyes taking him in for the first time, and for the first time, the rumors were correct. 

he was positively gorgeous. 

the veil of night hid a lot of his features, leaving only the more pronounced things for you to see. not only that, but you had been sworn to keep away from him, the last time you were really able to see him was years ago. 

but now, illuminated under the light from the large windows to the side of him, you can see him as clearly as you possibly could. his eyes were striking and stark, a blue that you could only get if you looked at the sea and saw all the colors mixing around together. his lips were plump and pink. his jaw was sturdy, but that could’ve been said along with the rest of his body, no longer looking like the lanky little boy that you were used to envisioning. though he donned a simple white button up, the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing just how strong he was. everything about him exuded radiance, the spectacularity that only comes with being the crown prince. 

you try to focus yourself again, and try not to melt under the way he noticed you staring too hard, his smile turning into something far more teasing.

he wets his lips, sitting up a little bit straight, pushing himself off the table just a bit so that he could be closer to you. 

“my name is satoru,” he extends his hand outward, and you stare at it. 

oh, a part of you sinks, he doesn't remember you.

“shake, please” he says as if reading your mind, “my hand isn’t infected with a fungal disease if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

you quickly nod, feeling sheepish as your hands slowly raise from where they were resting on your crumpled apron, fingers gently and barely there as they glide against his palm until your hand is enclosed in his, fingers curling around his as you shake. 

his palm is soft, unlike yours which had grown rough and riddles with scratches and cuts from over the years. he shakes firmly yet gently, not too harsh unlike the other men whose hands you’ve shaken before, making it somewhat a point to not only bruise your skin but to show off their strength as you look at them with a sneer. 

you don’t let go until he does, not wanting to seem rude or improper, and your hands quickly fall back down to your sides. you’re aware of the stains of food and dirt on your white apron, the way it is held together through stitches and intricate sewing. it’s a stark difference to what he’s wearing, even if simple, but the quiet opulence is what differentiates the two of you so easily. 

he waits patiently and you suddenly realize that he’s waiting for your name. you said it quickly, your eyes darting to him as you bow your head again.

“as i said,” he continued, his head turning as he looked out the window, taking in the scenery, “i have been trying my best to find you ever since, well, i’m sure you remember.”

“i was told by…miss marla scott, is it?” he asks, and you nod, miss lottie, “that you are one of, if not, her best girls.”

you nod again, not knowing what to do. he was going on about this as if all those years ago were a figment of your imagination, as if your childhoods weren’t linked together the way you recall them being. that could be for the best though, seeing how you could be in trouble if anyone were to remember. 

“i’ve recently had to do away with some of my valets, they didn’t meet my expectations.” he scratches his jaw, looking back at you, his eyes simmering as you look at him from beneath your lashes. 

“i would like for you to be my maid.” he finally said, his fingers playing with the ring on his middle finger, twisting it back and forth as it caught and reflected the sunlight. 

there’s a beat of silence, a moment in which the two of you just look at each other. 

you almost laughed in shock, your brows shooting upwards in surprise, hands interlinking themselves as they rested on your queasy stomach. 

“p-pardon,” you swallow dryly, “pardon me?” 

he waves it off, his eyes playful, obviously understanding that you weren’t expecting this and he runs a hand through his arctic hair. you intently watch his every movement, waiting for him to burst out into laughter and to say that this was all one big joke, one meant to set you up into a trap. 

“you’d have to make my bed every day, make sure my room is clean. my office,” he motions to the room around the two of you, “as well. anywhere i am, you are. i’m not a particularly messy person, but i like the assurance a maid provides.”

“your highness,” you breathe deeply through your nose, a puff of air coming out as you smile shortly, “i am more than honored, but i’m not sure i’ve been trained the way a personal maid has been trained. i would hate to disappoint you,” you chose your words carefully, but he waves it all off with his gloved hand.

“you will be taught. after all, you are the best, are you not?” his eyes crease around the edges, waiting for you to simply nod once again, and you do, slowly. 

“but, your highness, i…” you trail off, failing silent and running out of words as you find yourself sputtering under his gaze. you’re usually one who’s easily composed, your back straight and shoulders pressed backwards, but you feel it all slipping away. 

“why me? i surely couldn’t have made a favorable impression the first time we met, your highness.”

he looks at you for a moment, brief, fleeting. 

“you’re human, it happens,” he simply says, his eyes flickering a different shade, “my mother always tells me that we forget to exhaust the capabilities that connect us together,” he rubs in between his brows, soothing the crease, not going any further into his explanation when he looks up at you, his smile debonair, “now, do you accept?”

you suck in a breath. 

one nod. 

yes. 

—-

you were quickly swept away from your normal routine of things to become the princes maid, something that you could barely even get out once lydia was able to ask you about what had happened. you can remember the looks you received after walking to your new quarters, a private room for the first time in your life, by the people who judged you the first time around, feeling a little victorious with your single back packed with the three changes of clothes you owned. 

you spent days going over what was to be expected of you, and it all felt like it was a joke. 

it was too simple, too easy of a job with an even simpler explanation from the prince as to why you were even here. 

“his highness wakes up early, so you will need to be up before he is,” one of the ladies who was briskly walking around the princes caves explained rapidly, “and his nighttime schedule is, well, hectic, which means you will have to be with him until he goes to sleep.”

you blink, trying to get that all in as you take mental notes of everything you are being taught. 

“and during the day? where should i be?”

she looked up at you as if you were an idiot, as if that was the most obvious question you could’ve asked. 

���by his side, of course, you are to ensure his highness is always comfortable. your role is beyond making his bed or simply cleaning up after him. it’s making sure that our prince is at ease when he is to one day become our king.”

you never thought you would be standing behind the door of the prince's chambers, waiting for him to wake up, but your life always seemed to have a different plan waiting for you than what you’d expect. 

it’s better than you’d expect it to have been, too. at first, it was difficult getting used to the prince and his way of doing things. he would act rash sometimes, acting without thinking of the consequences. he was playful, he loved laughing. there were times when you’d be standing a good distance away from him when he’d be having dinner with families of women who were there to marry him, diplomats that talked just to bore it would seem, and you’d catch his wandering eye, suppressing a smile that seemed to quirk up on his face as well. 

it wasn’t long before you found yourself speaking more freely around him, keeping some of the pleasantries, but regarding him more as a friend, just as you would with lydia. 

he would often spend hours away in his study just talking, telling you about his daily outings and the struggles he was having with finding a wife. whenever you offered your thoughts or opinions he listened thoughtfully, his gaze heavy and caring.

though he may not have remembered your ancient friendship, you did, and an old part of you feels like it’s coming back after all those years. the naive part that was just happy to have a person to talk to, somebody that wouldn’t look at you in disgust or pity. 

but you bring your focus back to now, listening intently, waiting to hear the bed sheets ruffle and the floorboards to creak as he makes his way out of his bed. 

after a couple of weeks of doing this you’ve become somewhat familiar with the prince's way of doing things, and just as you thought he was going to sleep in, you hear the bedsheets ruffle with movement. 

“your highness?” you call quietly, “may i come in?”

there’s a loud yawn, something unintelligible, and then you hear the go ahead for you to go. 

you slowly open the door, making sure not to be loud as you bow politely, closing the door before you as you set the tray of cold water and fruits down on the nightstand near his bed. 

the prince prefers to eat something before he breaks his fast in front of his family and the watchful eyes of the palace, enjoying these small moments he has with himself. 

“good morning your highness,” you greet, lighting the candle as you look behind your shoulder to see the prince groggily running at his eyes, yawning once again as he waves tiredly to you. 

why he chooses to wake up before the sun is even in the sky is beyond you, but you would be mad to question the choices of the prince. unfortunately, he seems to be waking up even earlier than the times you were told, so every morning you find yourself getting up at the crack of dawn to make sure you’re up before he is. 

“did you sleep well?” you walk around the bed, setting down some fresh sheets and clothes for him to pick out, opening the curtains as you watch the sun just barely peek out from the horizon. 

“well enough,” his voice is deep, filled with sleep, and you're glad your back is momentarily turned so that he couldn’t see the way a smile threatened to poke its way on your face. 

“i’m glad to hear,” you turn around, catching him briefly taking a swing of water, savoring its coolness, and you try not to look too long at the droplets that roll down his chin, splattering on his thigh, “would you like me to go through your events set for the day?” 

he glances at you from over his cup, blinking as he wordlessly tells you to continue. 

“today, you are to meet with the king's advisors after you break your fast, but i doubt they should take too long. at noon, you have a lunch meeting set with the lady dower and her daughter,” you quote from memory, “and afterwards we are to swiftly get you ready for tonight's ball.” 

he groans loudly, opposing this, and you smirk, your eyes trained on him as he sets his water down, sniffing as he stands up, stretching his arms above his head. you feel like a fiend, with the way you quickly avert your gaze from his toned stomach, the happy trail of hair that leads…

your eyes shoot up at him, glad that his were still screwed shut, another yawn escaping his lips as he leans his head side to side, cracking his neck.

“i’ve already met with the lady dower,” he almost whines, his nose wrinkling at the thought, “what do they want this time?” 

“a ring, probably,” you mutter under your breath, but he hears, a chuckle falling past his lips as he nods along, tsking as he shrugs. he obviously doesn’t want the dower girl to be his wife, and you could only feel sorry for how tense the meetings going to be. 

he picks up a cube of melon, popping it in his mouth, humming at the sweet taste. he offers the bowl to you, just as he’s always done, but you politely decline, just as you’ve always done. you may have become friendly with the prince, but there is still some semblance of protocol that you’ll force yourself to follow. 

“is this chocolate?” he pipes up, looking at the tray a bit more closely, holding up the little sweet to the light. 

“you’ve mentioned how much you like them, and the kitchen has been making a plethora of them for the ball, so i thought i should snag you some before they're all gone.” you explain, and he turns it around, shooting you a thankful, genuine smile. he sets it down, most likely saving it until the very last moment.

“will you be there? tonight?” he asks, filling up his glass with water once again. 

“not down there with you, your highness-” 

“how many times have i told you to drop the titles?” he chides playfully, cutting you off as you sigh deeply through your nose. you’re terrified of calling him by his name too many times in private, and slipping up in public, knowing just how bad it would turn out for you if that were to happen. 

“not down there with you, gojo,” you say his last name with extra weight, just a little bit of sass, and he rolls his eyes, “i am to help out elsewhere.” 

he nods in understanding. 

“could you be down there?” he picks up a piece of watermelon, fashioned into a sphere, eating it as you sputter, brows furrowing in slight confusion as you open your mouth, shut it, and then open it again to speak. 

“unless i am serving, i would not be allowed,” you explain, following behind him as he moves away from the bed, quickly making the messed up sheets as he makes room for you. you’re supposed to wait until he’s out of the room, but in your growing friendship with the prince, you find it amusing the way he flutters away. 

he makes a small sound in the back of his throat, and you look behind your shoulder to see him deep in thought. 

“i’ll find a way.” 

“what-” 

“i’ll see you later,” he exits his room, shutting himself in his bathroom as the other servants are their, waiting with his bath drawn, leaving you there to gape in silence. 

—-

gojo somehow stuck to his word, finding a way for you to be near him by the time the ball arrived. 

you felt overwhelmed, your senses were going hardwire at the sheer size of everything. it was one thing to be part of setting up the decorations, or to view it from afar behind a pillar, but to be part of it was something totally different. 

there had been a couple balls since you first started your new position, but this happened to be the first one that you had gotten clearance for. of course, you weren’t a part of the crowd, hidden somewhere in the midst of servants and servers, but you were nearer than you’ve ever been. 

they even dress you up in more fashionable servant clothes, knowing that if you were to wear your tattered uniform it would easily give it away that you weren’t one of them. you didn’t have a job for the evening other than to make sure that the prince was comfortable, so you tried everything you could not to let him out of your sight. 

you found yourself searching for lydia in the crowd, but she had told you that she’d be in the kitchens, having to help out with the food they’d be sending out, and so you doubted you would be able to catch a glimpse of her amongst all the chaos that is hidden to their eyes. 

the prince, despite your best efforts, kept getting drowned in by the sea of people and ball gowns. every time he twirled a girl around for a dance he was hidden by a wave of colorful fabrics, and you’d have to squint to see his white hair peeking out.

you tapped your fingers on the railing you were leaning against, trying to soak it all in while you had the chance. you had heard of the royal balls and just how extravagant they truly could be, but you never thought you’d have the chance to see one in its entirety. 

“i don’t believe we’ve met,” 

your head snaps to your left, eyes widening in surprise at the stranger that had somehow slithered their way next to you without noticing.

“i apologize, i didn't mean to scare you,” the man says with an apologetic laugh. you huff out a small sound, shaking your head as you bow your body a little bit, watching as he bows his head in turn.

“no apology necessary, uh, mister…?” you pause, realizing that you actually haven’t even seen his face before, let alone heard of his name.

“fushiguro,” he finishes for you, the scar on his lip quirking upwards as he settles himself on teh railing, looking down at the scene below you as he shoots you a small look, “but i’d prefer it if you’d call me toji.”

you duck your head down, smiling as you repeat your name, feeling heat pricks at the back of your neck. he’s certainly handsome, and most likely higher ranked in title with the expensive material he fills out well. 

you’ve seen him around, most likely from afar. his face is familiar, and you’re sure that he’s had to have at least another one of these balls considering the fact that he’s given up mixing with the ton. 

he surely has to note that what you’re wearing is on par with what the other servants and maids are, but he doesn't choose to comment.

“i’ve started a little bet with myself,” he says, his voice deep and gruff. you take a second to look him over thoroughly, noting the way his hair is messy and looks undone, black as the night. his eyes shimmer green, but turn more olive toned in the light, and he has a smile exudes an air of confidence, “would you like you partake in it?”

you smile, looking at him from the side. 

“i thought they taught you better manners than to introduce yourself with a bet when you first meet a lady.” 

he chuckles, shrugging his shoulders as his eyes glint. 

“thought i already told you my name?” he’s smooth with it, and you’re not used to this. 

you don’t say anything for a second, your chest moving as you take in a necessary gulp of air. you normally try not to think too much in gojo’s flirtatious personality, because he seems to be like that with everybody he’s ever met. but this is new. 

“see,” he leans in, your arms touching as you both lean a bit over the railing, and he’s lower this voice to a whisper so that nobody else can hear, “i bet that our little prince is setting his eyes on the young lady in the red dress, but i also bet that he may be mulling over the one in the green shawl.” his fingers slyly point to the two of them, and you crane your neck a bit, standing on your toes as you try to get a better look. the man, toji, isn’t incorrect in his observations. gojo has danced with miss corden almost three times at this point, and another two with miss ahura, but you remember that he only favored these two more because they tended not to step on his shoes when dancing. you suppress your smile, choosing to indulge him in his little bet.  

“i say miss ahura has a better chance,” you say and he watches as gojo twirls her around on the dance floor, “her family is far more affluent and i hear that she has riches beyond comprehension in persia.” 

“are you saying our prince is covetous? the sacrilege,” his voice is full of mirth and you hide your little giggle behind a gloved hand, your elbows lightly hitting his as you keep your eyes trained down below. 

the waltz comes to an end, the violinists lifting their instrument off from their shoulders as they prepare for the next piece, the ladies and gentlemens who had just danced bowing to each other as they separate. 

you watch for gojo, watch as he moves to the end of the floor, accepting the drink one of his companions had waiting for him as he delves into conversation. he takes a sip, nodding along to whatever it is that is being muttered in his ear. 

he looks up for a second, his eyes scanning around for something. he’s careful not to attract attention to this fact, but you see him scan the entire room, the different floors, his eyes squinting as he tries to narrow his vision. he looks around for a couple more seconds, looking and looking until he finds you. 

a brief and quick smile takes over his face when he finally sees your face, your own lips tugging upwards as you give him a small wave. his eyes fall to the man besides you, his smile falling as well, and toji grunts. 

“are you familiar with the prince?” he asks, obviously catching this, and you gnaw on your lips in apprehension, confusion. 

“barely,” you mutter, not giving him too many details, watching as gojo looks away just as quickly, as if he had never seen you and you swallow thickly, wondering what brought on his sudden change in emotions. 

or why he even looked for you in the first place. 

“barely doesn’t warrant the prince looking for you,” toji whispers in your ear, “‘think you know him a little better than you give yourself credit for.” 

—

after the ball, gojo didn’t speak much to you when the two of you were back in his chambers.

he tended to get tired out by the end of balls, but you found yourself lonely without the endless stories he came to you with, the way he’d relive some of the events just as he was going to bed so that he wouldn’t forget them in the morning. 

but he was strangely quiet right now, didn’t say anything as you helped him shrug off his coat, hanging it up in his closet as you bite your cheek, feeling some odd tension radiate off of him, something you’ve never felt before. 

“did you enjoy the ball?” you asked, standing near his bed as he shuffles around, kicking off his boots as he scrunches his nose in distaste. 

“it was like any other,” he says plainly, yanking his tie off as you grab it from his wordlessly, folding it up so that it wouldn’t crease.

“did you like dancing with miss ahura?” you don’t know what’s going on, why he seems so rigid, “she looked beautiful, did she not?” 

he shrugs passively, not answering as he rummages around his drawers, dropping down his cufflinks in a pile with the rest of his gold ones, not knowing that a single pair of them would most likely feed you for a year.

“would you like a midnight snack? i saved some truffles for you,” you dig into your pockets, bringing some out that you had snagged from the desserts table and had wrapped in a napkin, something akin to what he used to bring you all those years ago, waiting eagerly all night to show him, “these even have some gold on them, i’ve never seen-” 

“i have chefs at my disposal,” he mutters as he unbuttons his shirt, “i don’t need truffles covered in lint.” 

your smile fell at the bite in his voice, the way it seemed to grip it’s claws around your lungs, squeezing the air out of them. you silently pocket the napkin.

“of course…i apologize,” there's a bitter taste in the back of your throat, catching his eyes momentarily. you see the way they shift, how his mouth parts open, and then he shuts them again. 

you can feel his stare as you shove your other hand back into your other dress pocket, this one with a miniature tart that you had so carefully tried to preserve throughout the evening from breaking, and feel a heavy weight settle on your chest. 

“i have your bath ready,” you point to the bathroom, ducking your head down as you bow, “i will see you in the morning, your highness.” 

you left  quickly, feeling foolish as you trekked down the stairs to your own room, feeling your heart slow down as you shut your door, shedding off the wretched costume that had you feeling as if you were something worthwhile for once. 

—-

for a while after that night, the two of you share brief conversations, sentences kept to a minimum as you bring back the cordiality that you had begun to shed off for a while. if he noticed it, he didn’t comment on it. after some days passed, and days turned into a week and a half, he barely even looked at you, and you took it as a sign that he had tired out of the small friendship and was looking elsewhere for momentary entertainment.  

tonight, you found yourself standing in the corner of his office, eyes darting around as you waited in heavy silence as his quill scratched on the parchment beneath him, dipping it in ink every now and then as he mumbled unintelligible words under his breath. 

his head rests in his hands, throwing his head back in frustration at whatever it is the document is telling him. 

his head falls down, his eyes slowly opening as he looks up at you. 

your brow raised slightly in questioning. 

“i need you,” he says, eyes widening slightly at his slip up, “i-i need your help.” he clears his throat harshly.  

he ushers to the papers in front of him, and you inhale deeply, making your way from the corner that you’ve hidden yourself in as you cross the room, your steps careful as you round to his table, standing at the edge as you stay quiet. 

“here,” he bites out, “come here.” he needs you next to him, and you have to control the urge to roll your eyes as you move, shuffling so that you were standing near his chair, looking down at the piece of paper that he’s been mulling over for the better half of an hour. 

you look at it, mouth parting open as your brows scrunch up as you focus, trying to ignore the way his eyes were burning into the side of your face. 

“i don’t understand, your highness,” you finally say, leaning away from him, “what am i supposed to be looking at?”

he pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling as he sets the paper down, leaning back in the chair. 

“it’s a letter of inheritance, who gets what after the father dies,” he explains, “but the signatures don’t match up. does it seem forged to you?” 

you look again, looking at the two signatures laid next to each other, the way the letters curved, which ones swooped, tilting your head, trying to see it from a different angle. the more you looked at it, the more disingenuous the signatures seemed. 

“they might be,” you briefly look at him, his stare burning if you look too long, “but i’m not sure, your highness.”

his face hardens for a second, and you move away, going back to the end of the table as you bow, taking your leave to the back of the room until he speaks again. you pause, looking over your shoulder to him. 

“care to look again? i have a feeling that you have a knack for schemes.” his lips are pulled back in a smile that doesn't meet his eyes, miles away from the usual smile you see from him, and if not for the benign expression, his words surely made you stumble. 

“excuse me?” you bite back quickly, your nose flaring as he scoffs, shaking his head as if he expected this reaction. 

“you’re shameless with it, aren’t you?” he’s alluding to something, and it’s driving you crazy. all the stares you’ve shared this past week, the silent exchange of aggravated words that grow only in size the more the two of you simmer. even when you were young, your arguments were resolved quickly.

“with what?” you snap, the accusations he’s throwing at you with no reasoning swarming your mind, clouding your judgment, your way of carrying yourself as you throw all etiquette out the window. 

“i can only wonder what ploys fushiguro played out for you, but i wonder even more which ones tempted you the most?” 

your tongue is heavy in your mouth, and you make a sound in the back of your throat, one of shock, one of clear surprise. was all of his unspoken anger because of…him? the man you met during the ball? surely it can’t be. 

you gape, the candle flickering away in the same beats your heart was going at, illuminating his stone cold face as he stands up from his chair, moving slowly to where you were. you try to stand tall, but you can’t match up to his height.

“you,” your jaw clenches, eyes searching his to see if he was joking, “you’ve been treating me like i’m, i’m,” you stutter, your chest constricting, “the shit you wipe off your shoe because you think i’m scheming with s-some man i met for the first time?” 

his expression flickers for a second, as if suddenly realizing what he was saying.

“as if you don’t know who he is,” he collects himself, a sneer making its way on his face, “as if you don’t know what they’ve done to us-” 

“i don’t!” you cut him off, a shocked laugh escaping your lips, “i don’t know who he is! i just thought he was being friendly!” 

gojo pauses, his eyes searching yours for any traces of lies

“come on,” he scoffs, “you know how the zenin family-”

“who, who’s the zenin family?” you exclaim, watching in real time as the facade and things he’s been convincing himself of aren’t true. 

“the,” he stutters, his face scrunching up in confusion, “the zenin…? how do you not know…?”

“because i’m a maid!” you shout, not caring if others behind the door could hear you yelling at their prince, “because i’ve spent my entire life working here! i keep my head down and i do what i’m told, a-and i keep to myself. forgive me for not knowing about your royal affairs, your highness!” 

he’s rendered silent, lips pulled into a thin line. 

“but you only care about yourself, right? the sacred prince who had everything given to him his entire life,” you continue, feeling your own pent up frustrations spewing out. you know that you’re going to lose everything after this anyways, so you don’t care about the repercussions now. you can’t bring it in yourself to care.

“you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with some unidentifiable emotion as you roll your eyes. 

“i don’t? tell me, do you even remember me?” you hate that you’re losing touch of sensibility and making it personal, personal about your own feelings and how your mind can’t wrap around the fact that he simply forgot who you were or how much he affected you, “or are your cares about the people who work for you so fleeting that you barely know our names? is my replacement coming in a week, two weeks?”

“stop,” he bites out, his eyes dark, a storming brewing on the endless sea they offer, “you don’t know-” 

“what i’m taking about…right?” you finish for him, “because i’m just the simple maid who you took in as your toy because you wanted to poke and prod around at her and see if she cries again? see if you could fix something for once-” 

“stop,” his voice is different, and your hairs stand up because it’s not his. it’s lower in pitch, deep, commanding. you shut your mouth, fingers flying upwards, but it’s too late, you’ve said too much, and there’s no going back. this is it, you’ve finally sealed your fate. 

his head falls down for a second, licking his lips as he looks at you with a look that freezes your blood. it’s not like him, and you know that this was it. 

“get out,” he mutters. 

“i…” you take a step back.

“get out,” his voice is thick, nostrils flaring, cheeks red with underlying emotions that are threatening to leave, “get out and never come back.” 

your eyes shine with tears, tears that you refuse to shed, tears that you don’t know are for what, but you nod once, your lips trembling as you bow down to him, your last shred of respect, and turn for the door, shutting it as you run down the corridor, run for the only thing you think can save you in the moment, and don’t look back. 

—

the wind is biting and unforgiving on your skin as you ride through the night. 

you lean forward on the horse, hoping it can go faster as it sprints through the open field, your eyes watering as you shout for it to go. 

you packed what you could, wrote your note to lydia and escaped through the stables, glad  to know that louis was guarding the horses tonight, glad to know that he often drank himself to sleep. 

you knew you were in too deep. you had crossed the crown prince, your ending surely wasn’t going to be good. and so call it what you will, cowardice, fear, survival, or just something you seem to have down to your roots, but you fled. you took a horse and went as far as you could, looking over your shoulder every other minute to see if anybody was running after you. 

they would at some time realize that one of their horses was missing, as well as the prince's personal maid, and easily connect the dots. 

it was late, and you were glad that the night was offering you the darkness and protection you needed. you could hear thunder rumbling a distance away, the clouds looking even more irate than they usually do. rain, you noted, even more protection that you desperately needed.

“please,” you plead, with what you don’t know, “please, hurry.” 

the horse, as if understanding you, seems to pick up its pace, going even faster than before. your cheeks are freezing, your hands going numb from both the cold but from holding onto the reins with all your might, and the sad excuse of a cloak you have on for both warmth and concealing your face, does nothing for its intended purposes. it’s flimsy and the hood is swept by the wind, and you sniffle, tears wetting your chin as you try to compose yourself for just a bit more. 

you feel an ounce of joy when you see the yellow twinge of lights from the valley below, the small town that you once used to live in coming more into focus, and feel some sense of happiness. you would camp there for the night and leave at dawn, going east, north, anywhere away from here. 

or at least that was your plan until you hear the thump of hooves from behind you. 

your heart drops, head whipping around as you see another horse coming in from behind you. you can’t see the rider, but you suspect more are behind them. they’re shouting something, but with the wind roaring in your ears you can’t hear anything. you turn around, whipping the reins again, leaning even more forward as let out a sound of desperation. 

it’s a race to survive now, something that you won't do if you lose it, and you feel your body turning into ice, everything is going too fast. 

the rider behind you is gaining speed, and you know it’s only a matter of time before they finally catch up to you. in a split moment you try to evade them, twisting the reins of your horse in one direction, not seeing the bush that was in front of you. 

in another moment you’re up in the air, losing all of your feelings as you're thrown down with a harsh thud. 

in the next moment, things going to black, your lids flickering as you try to stay awake, one of the last things you see being the blurry face of the rider,

and those eyes that you think about every night. 

—

the next time you open your eyes it’s to a bright light. 

you ground, rubbing at your face as your mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton, your head ringing as you attempt to sit up, only to feel strong hands gently pushing you down. 

there’s a voice, somebody speaking, but it’s all mushy in your brain, words melting together as you shake your head, trying to get the blinding light away from you. the voice grows a little bit closer, a little more clearer, and after a couple of seconds you’re able to make out what the person is saying.

“please rest, i’ll get the doctor,” the voice is familiar, and you reach out with slow fingers, trying to grab onto something, anything.

“n-no,” you murmur, your voice slurring, “no doctor.” 

“you need a doctor,” the voice says firmly, “wait here.”

“no,” you say again, a little stronger, and the person stops moving, “s-stay…please,”

your fingers reach out, trying to latch onto a piece of their clothing, and instead find their hand. it’s warm, soft, and it quickly closes around your cold one, trying to warm it up. 

you know this hand, know this voice. 

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and wonder if your voice is even something that can be heard by the human ear with the way it sounds foreign even to you, “i’m, i’m sorry about everything. about what i said.”

his hold on your hand grows tighter, his thumb moving up and down on the back of it in a soothing back as his other hands run across your forehead. 

“no,” he simply says, “you don’t-”

“but i said-” 

“everything that should’ve been said,” gojo finishes quickly, “but i need to go get you a doctor, check if you don’t have a concussion or worse. he checked for…other things,” he swallows thickly, not able to say what terrible words the town physician told him when they brought you into the small inn, the words that turned his skin transparent and nearly ripped the heart right out his chest, “see if you’re doing okay.”

“i don’t have a concussion,” you tell him him, finally able to blink without shooting lights and on your final squint you finally see him, sitting right next to you, his hair disheveled and face clammy, “i’ve had concussions and this isn’t a concussion.” 

his brows furrow but you wave it off, sitting up so that you could rest on the head board behind you, not letting go of his hands. you’re not even sure he would let you if you wanted to, with the way he was grasping on as if his life depended on it. 

you groggily rub at your face, glad that the thumping in your head is dying down, gracefully accepting the glass of water he offers you. you chug it down, feeling the droplets wet the chemise you’re wearing, but can’t find it in you to care.

you look around the room, wondering if you might actually have a concussion because you’ve never been here before, and it certainly doesn’t look like it’s part of the palace. 

“we’re at an inn,” he explains as if reading your mind, “it’s the closest place i could find.” 

you nod wordlessly, looking away from him because it feels raw, the emotions, the events from before, everything. 

he senses your disposition and his hold on your hand loosens for a brief, flickering second. you hate the feeling. 

“i shouldn’t have assumed,” he whispers, your eyes still focused on the patterns on the bed sheet, not knowing what would happen if you looked at him, “i shouldn’t have thought any of it. i just saw you and saw him and…it got in my head. it got a hold of me and for that, i’m sorry.” 

your fingers curl into his hand. 

“but, i, um,” he stammered, stuttering the way he used to when he was a little boy, something they surely worked on seeing how it rarely came out anymore, “i wanted you to know that i do remember.” 

your head snaps up, the bed creaking at your sudden movement, your mouth slightly open in surprise. 

“what?” your question is breathless, akin to the boyish, nervous, and small smile on his face. just like he used to smile when you chased him up a tree, telling him to get down or else you’d be in big trouble as if he were your responsibility.

“you used to wear a uniform that was so huge, you’d trip whenever you’d walk. you loved the fruit pies i’d bring, but you hated the ones with the pine nuts. you’d always call me ‘toru because you couldn’t say your s’s properly and you made me a doll with some fabric you found around the rooms.” 

his thumb rubs on your pulse point, a melancholy smile on his face. 

“you named him fru-fru,” your voice is barely above a murmur, “and you kept him on your-” 

“nightstand,” he nods, “but i had to move him to my study because he was getting too fragile, i couldn’t move him too much.”

you wipe at your cheeks, sniffing as you feel a strange warmth fill your chest, filling an emptiness you didn’t know was there. his eyes shimmer, wet with tears threatening to spill, and for the first time since you met him that night, you feel like you’ve never been closer to somebody than you are now, souls interlinked together, twisting and turned as they grew with time. 

all the emotions you’ve been latching onto or forcing down are coming up at once and you feel overwhelmed, not knowing how to handle them together. 

“why…why did you act like you didn't know me?” you finally ask, wiping at your chin with the palm of your hand as you sniffle, “why are you telling me all this now?” 

“because all this time i thought you had grown to hate me,” he mutters, “you just stopped speaking to me one day and no matter what i tried to do you never responded. i sent you letters and i visited your quarters and i even went to that scary lady,” you laugh wetly, knowing that he was referring to your old head-maid, the one that terrified him as a kid, “but they all acted as if you had forgotten about me. at some point i convinced myself that you left but when i saw you running across that field i just knew, i knew it was you.” 

you shake your head, the tears coming on even harder. all those years when you had to act passive, act as if you didn't know him just so that you wouldn’t lose or jeopardize your position or life, pretending that the one friend that made your days that much brighter was a passing thought to you. 

he leans in a bit, wiping at your cheeks gently with his thumb as you lean into his hand, watching as you quickly wipes at his own reddened cheeks, brows scrunching up together as you whimper.

“they f-found out,” you choke, “about us. and they knew who i w-was and who my mom was and they told me to never speak to you again,” your words come out broken, “and i left little piece of my clothes outside your door at night, ones with drawings or things i thought you’d know but every morning they would be gone. i,” you cry, your voice sputtering as you crawl closer to him, into his open arms, “i could never forget you,” your voice cracks, muffled by his chest, “you were the only f-friend i had,” he pulls you in tighter, his arms around you encaging you in a warmth that you so desperately needed. his chin rests atop your head, and you can see the way he struggles to get his own breaths out, the tears that he struggles to hide. 

“don’t cry,” he pleads, begs, holding onto the last scrap of composure he had left, hating hearing your cries or seeing your tears, “please, please don’t cry,” he pulls himself away from you slightly to look at your face, to dry your cheeks as you hiccup, “you’re killing me tonight, you know that right?” 

you try to laugh though it comes off as a snort, savoring the way his fingers trace your face, your cheeks, your jaw, your nose, the corners of your eyes, trying to savor every bit of you as if they’ve been starved for an eternity. 

“tried to run after you after what i said…” he can’t find it in himself to repeat his wretched words, “only to find you gone. you have no idea how much of a mad man i was, ordering everybody to turn each stone inside out until they found you. then that stupid stable boy kept yelling out that a horse was gone and i thought surely you wouldn’t be foolish enough to run away, ‘specially not when a storm was coming but…”

“i ran away when a storm was coming,” you finish for him with a quiet chuckle, feeling your body heating up at the way he broke into an instant smile when he heard the sound. if only you knew the things he’d do to hear it again, to see you happy would be his three wishes if he was ever asked.

“and you were going fast,” he traces your cheekbone, his words filling the large and empty room, “so, so fast. and when you fell?” he takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his chest, setting it on his heart as you feel it thumping quickly underneath your palm, “was about to take you to the doctor and tell him to give you this,” his fingers curl above yours, his forehead resting on yours, your noses breaths away from each other, “it didn’t matter to me anymore, it doesn’t work right without you.”

you feel lightheaded like you need him more than you need oxygen, your eyes falling onto his lips, not knowing that he was mirroring your exact same motions, the two of you working in tandem like a machine and its little bolts, not working without the other. 

“would it perhaps be because you can’t live without the chocolates i sneak in for you?” you try to joke but it falls flat in your head, but he still huffs out a laugh, nose nudging yours as you lean in impossibly closer.

“perhaps,” he answers, his face lit by the single candle behind the two of you, “but it could also perhaps be because i love you so fucking much.” 

and you whine, tired of waiting, moving the single bit you needed to connect your lips together and fall forward on his lap, your hands shooting up to his shoulders to use as much needed stability. 

he groans, a sound from the back of his throat, from deep within him, his hands moving up to hold onto your waist as you move into him, kissing him with such fervor that you felt like you were going to die without feeling his lips on you.

it was so messy, the way your teeth clash against and noses bumped against each other, but it was what you so desperately needed. he was moving fast, his lips kissing against the corners of your mouth, down you chin as they found your neck, his smile growing as you throw your head back, fingering digging into his white strands as you tried to pull him in even closer. 

you let out breathless sounds, sounds that you never knew you could make, but it seems to spur him on, planting wet and sloppy kisses on the column of your neck as she sucked, marking you up so that later people would know that you were his and his alone. 

“gojo, i,” your eyes screw shut at the feeling of him, “feels so good,” you say breathlessly, moving closer up on his lap, feeling his hands tug at the flimsy chemise you have on, fingers slowly tugging it down, giving you time to push him off if you wanted to. 

he looks up at you, his eyes needy, desperate, just as yours, and you nod, needing him to not stop. 

he continues, pulling it down so that you're bare before him, nipples pebbling in the cold air as you go to cover up, suddenly realizing just what is happening, feeling shy, never like this in front of anyone before. 

“we can stop,” he muttered against your lips, pressing a small peck to them, “we don’t have to do this now, we have all the time in the world,” he teases as he tugs your chemise up but you grab his wrist, stopping him as you shake your head. 

“no,” you tug it down a little bit, “i’ve just,” you take in a deep breath, “just never done this before.”

he chuckles, eyes flashing darkly for just a quick second as he kisses along your jaw, leaving your skin shining in the limited light.

“good,” he murmurs, “‘cause i think i’d have to exercise my grandfather's way of handling people if somebody else saw you like this.” you laugh shortly, tugging sharply on some of his hairs as he looks up at you, eyes full of devotion that you’ve only dreamed about. 

“beheading people for just seeing my tits?” you’re more crass than he is in some places, a sign of the different language you’ve heard growing up in the circumstances you’ve had, but he doesn’t care, likes it in fact. 

“i’d burn down villages if anyone saw these,” he cups them in his hands, thumb flickering over your nipples as you suddenly arch into him, head falling back, “you’re so perfect,” he whispers into your skin, his lips hovering on the slope of your breasts as he takes time to admire your chest, “so beautiful,” you would’ve smacked him if not for the way he took one in his mouth, leaving you no time to think of anything else as a moan escapes your lips, the first of its kind.

“damn you gojo,” you moan, hearing his chuckle vibrate through your tits as his sucks on your nipple, tugging it with your teeth as you feel your stomach heat up, growing more and more wet as you buck up on his thigh, “you t-talk too much,” you shudder, eyes rolling back when he presses his flat tongue on your areola, his other hand massaging your other tit until he switches, leaving it glistening his his spit.

“yeah? then where do you want this mouth, hm?” he looks up at you with his eager eyes, just wanting to please you, and you feel like you’re becoming an addict, your cunt growing more and more wet as riding his thigh proves to not satiate the hunger. 

“d-down,” you can’t think clearly, “please, need you so bad.” 

“where?” he plays with you, pressing his hand against your stomach, “here?” 

you shake your head, feeling needy and not in the mood to play around, not knowing where your sudden surge in confidence was coming from as you grab his wrist, leading it down to your cunt as you hide your face in his neck, whining. 

“h-here, ‘toru, need you here,” he throws his head back, a sound coming from somewhere in his chest as his name falls from your glossy with spit lips, tugging the ends of your chemise up to your stomach as he stares at your bare pussy. 

he pushes you back gently to lie on the bed, nestling between your legs as he savors the sight.

you cover your face with your hands, hearing him laugh at your expense, keeping your thighs spread wide open with his hands as he presses tantalizing kisses on the insides of them, each one closer and closer to the unbearable heat. 

“wait,” you mutter, confused as to what he was doing, watching the way he snapped up, worried eyes finding your confused ones, following your stare down to his growing bulge. 

“i thought…?” all the stories lydia would tell you didn’t start this way, usually beginning his the man pulling his dick out and being done in a couple of minutes, “do you not…?” 

satoru breathes easy, laughing as he shakes his head, resting on his haunches as his palm rubs against your soft thighs. he looks so pretty like this, with his hair going haywire, some of it in his face, some of it messily pushed back. there’s a pink flush to hit face, his lips plump and shinning with spit. 

“trust me, you have no idea how bad i want to feel you,” his eyes are so dark that you wonder if they’re even blue, “but i’m not going to do it in your condition. i don’t want to hurt you any more-” 

“but,” you whine but he shakes his head, pinching your soft skin as you wince, hitting him with your knee as he rolls his eyes. 

“i promise you’re going to like this,” he rubs softly against where he pinched you, smoothing the skin over, “do you trust me?”

“yes,” you mutter, watching as he breaks into a smile, “better not disappoint me though.”

“fuck, you’re such a minx,” he groans, spreading your lips open with his pointer finger, his dick aching at the sight of the string of arousal that connects them together, at the clear shine and wetness from just how much you needed him, “you’re actually going to be the death of me.”

“then hurry u-up ‘toru,” you say, “don’t die on me now,” your fingers were cutely curling in his hair, and he’d be an insane lunatic if he made you beg any more than you have, diving in as if you were actually his last meal before he died. 

your mouth falls open in a silent scream, the feeling unlike anything. he sucked on your clit, moving up and down from your cunt, wanting to taste your saccharine wetness on his tongue to back up. he was so messy, so loud, and you felt like you were going to overheat, felt like everything was fogging your vision. 

it felt so good. too good. his tongue dived in and out of you in a way that had you gripping his hand and the sheets under you, your leg around around his shoulders as you bucked into his open mouth, your wetness smearing all of his lips and chin as he ate you like a man starved for years. 

“o-oh my god,” you mewl out, eyes rolling back as you felt one of his long, swift fingers slowly pushing into you, his lips still sucking on your clit as you felt like you were actually entering heaven. 

“not god,” his voice is muffled, “just ‘toru.” you would have laughed if you could, your smile instantly dropping when his finger pumps in and out.

your toes curl, leg around his shoulder pulling him in closer if that was even possible. if he were to die right now he’d had the giddiest smile on his face, happy to have you dancing around on his tongue. 

everything about this was shameless and you wondered if all your good deeds were finally catching up to you. 

you don’t even care if the people sleeping next to you, above you, under you, or even at this inn could hear you, because when he put in his middle finger you screamed, back arching off the bed. 

“so good, fuck, ‘toru, i,” you could even form a complete sentence, “feel so good,”

“yeah?” you nod feverishly, “fuck, you taste amazing, love this so much, love you so much,” he’s babbling with his words too, his nose sometimes accidentally rubbing against your clit, bringing you all the much more pleasure.

sometimes when you look down to see him you moan helplessly, your chest heaving at the way he’d rut mindlessly into the bed, his dick hard and swollen and achy from eating you out, about the burst from just your scent alone. 

your stomach tightens and you feel an unfamiliar thing deep in the pit of your body, growing taut with each swipe, each like, each kiss he would give you. it made your moans more breathy, your words less understandable, and you felt like you were slowly going to go insane, losing all sense of reality. 

“‘toru, i, i don’t know,” you’re sputtering, nails raking into his hair, your free hand grabbing onto your tits, the bed sheet, his shoulders, anything to help you ground you back down to earth, “i feel, f-fuck, oh my god, i,” 

“you got this sweetheart,” he encouraged you, his words honeyed, “come on, let go for me, you can do it,” his thumb which had found its way to your clit was speeding up, his tongue and fingers taking turns as they pounded into you. 

you felt that rope getting together and tiger, about to snap at any moment as you whined, tears escaping from the corners of your eyes as your lips huffed out puffs of air. 

“i, f-fuck, i’m ‘gonna, oh…” you whine out loud, the line snapping, your orgasm crashing through you as your mouth falls slack. 

it was mind numbing, the way everything went white, the way you tightened around his fingers which were slowing down. you creamed around him, leaving his skin shiny with your release, your pussy still pulsing seconds after as you try to catch your breath, still seeing white behind your lids as your tits move up and down with each haggard breath. 

he presses on last kiss to your fluttering clit, hands massaging your quivering thighs as you slowly yet surely come back down to reality, each second passing bringing you back down with him. 

“good?” he teases, his smile coy as you cover your eyes with one arm, lightly pushing him with the other. 

“fine,” you mutter, peeking over to see him positively glowing, a stupidly large smile on his face when he sees you finally looking at him, pressing the fattest kiss to your lips as you squeal, eyes fluttering for a second as you taste yourself on him, parting your lips mindlessly to let his tongue slither in.

you whined against his lips, fingers curling around the collar of his open tunic, pulling him closer to your naked body, feeling your tits press up against his chest, everything so perfect that you wondered if you were dreaming. 

“wait,” he muttered, pulling away from you, a string of spit connecting your lips together as you sit uop a little, you brows scrunched in confusion as you watch him sit up from the bed, walking over to the vanity as he rumages around the drawers for something. 

he pulls out a small cloth, holding it up in victory as he grins, walking over to your nightstand as he wets it with soem water, crawling back into bed as he settles back in the middle of your thighs, gently pulling them apart as he starts cleaning you. 

it’s all so intimate and so loving. you feel like melting watching his focused gaze, careful to be soft and slow, knowing that you’re a little stretched out, and pat it as best he could, cleaning around your thighs as well, throwing the cloth to the side as he climbs back up to you, pressing a loving kiss to your temple. 

you shrug the rest of the chemise off, riddled with your essence and sweat, and pull the covers up, feeling the sudden chill now that satoru’s no longer eating you out like both your lives depended on it, and a silence falls over the room. 

“is this a bad time to tell you about my horse laundering scheme with fushiguro?” you ask, your eyes shining mischievously as satoru whines, hiding his face in your chest as he pulls you closer to his body. 

“you’re so evil,” he says against your skin. 

you laugh, the sound going straight to his heart, his smile hidden. 

but you fall silent and when you don’t speak he looks up, his eyes searching yours. 

“what now?” you whisper, your fingers carding through his hair, feeling its softness, “i don’t…” you trail off, biting your lip as every other emotion that you had tucked away comes crawling back. 

his finger finds its way to the middle of your browning, easing the crease that was forming. 

“now you become my wife…if you would like to, of course…” 

you search his eyes to see if he’s joking, but you only see honest sincerity in that sea of blue, his cheeks pink as he blushed. 

“really?” you can barely say it without a giddy smile making its way on your face, one that he glows brightly at. if only he could bottle it, save it for when the universe collapsed and was in need of light. 

“really,” he promises, holding you tightly to him, not wanting to ever let you go again, needing you next to him so that he could make sure his heart was working, to make sure that he was actually alive and that this wasn’t all a dream. 

“i’ve loved you since the moment i saw you, ‘toru,” you whisper, nodding off to sleep as a yawn escapes your mouth. 

“is that because i used to try to swoon you with food?” he whispers, his drowsy eyes finding yours as you sleepily giggle, kissing the tip of his nose as you curl into his heat, a smile on your face when you say the last words before you finally head off into sleep. 

“perhaps.”

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Use of syringe and needles in the beginning, Wife!Reader, SMUT, Miguel rutting, heavy mentions of your pheromones, olphactophilia, Lab sex, overstimulation, breeding kink. You’re driving him nuts…all puns intended lol

𝐀/𝐍: I was planning for this to be in the same universe as For Biology. But it can be read by itself too. Also lmk if the Spanish phrases need fixing 🥹🥹

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You catch Miguel doing something he shouldn’t while dropping off his lunch. Now you both have to face the consequences.

The lab was bathed in a sterile glow of fluorescent lights as Miguel loaded the syringe gun with a shimmering liquid— Rapture.

The fluid inside the vial danced with an underlying glow as he positioned the syringe over his forearm with practiced precision.

The needle neared his skin and with one steady breath, he pushed it in. The liquid filled his bloodstream and a rush of power coursed through his veins.

Once the vial was bottomed out, he withdrew the syringe from his arm. The lab's stagnant atmosphere couldn’t overshadow the electric charge that was now enveloping him.

Miguel didn’t register the hiss of the lab doors open until your voice tore through the silence in the room. “Is that the second shot you’re taking?!” Your voice demanded clarity and answers from him.

Miguel didn’t turn to look at you, instead he silently put the empty syringe gun on the desk in front of him.

He could rapidly feel the effect of the Rapture in his bloodstream— the tingling sensation through his nerves and the blood rushing in his ears.

“What if I said it wasn’t,” he replied, though he knew where this would go.

“No me mientas, Miguel,” you resorted back. Miguel knew there was no point in lying to you when you saw him take the first Rupture shot this morning.

Despite not having any spider senses, he could smell your scent getting stronger as you stepped closer towards him with a heavy stride.

The Rapture was used to enhance his powers, that included his senses and strength.

But it was also a double-edged sword with its side effects. A gamble with his own equilibrium.

Your pheromones spiked his heart rate and the familiar rush of heat reached his cock. But he quickly dismissed it before it clouded his senses.

Now was not the time.

“Lyla, why didn’t you tell me she was coming?” He called out before Lyla’s marigold hologram appeared on his shoulder.

“She wanted to surprise you,” Lyla shrugged before quickly disappearing.

He craned his neck to see you hold out a paper bag in front of you. “And you forgot your lunch. But I think I came here just in time.”

You gestured at the empty syringe gun. He let out an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He wasn’t mad.

He could never be mad at you for visiting while he was on the clock— especially if you were delivering your homemade food. He just hated the predicament he was in right now.

It was obvious you weren’t going to drop the subject of his second Repture shot. You’ve been married to him long enough to know the side effects if things weren’t regulated properly.

Though, part of him was grateful that you understood his situation and that he could be this vulnerable with you.

You placed the paper bag on his desk before you started searching frantically through the lab.

“Lyla, where are the neutralisers? He always puts it in a different place whenever I come here and I could never find them,” you huffed in annoyance as you tried to locate the vials. The neutralisers helped to maintain his hormones and any side effects he could have from the Rapture.

The rest of the conversation with you and Lyla became a blur. As you bent over to reach the lower cabinets, Miguel’s eyes were glued on you— a captivating figure— and the dress you were wearing.

He had seen you wear that specific dress before but for some reason he couldn’t stop himself from noticing the small details and how the dress fitted you.

The skirt of the dress gave you a more feminine appearance. The balloon sleeve gave a visual flair to the whole outfit.

But he couldn’t tear his eyes off of the way it accentuated your hips and your curves.

It could be the side effects of the Rapture that was making him see things that he hadn’t noticed before, but now the neutraliser was the last thing on his mind.

He craved nothing more than to hike up your dress with his hands and reach the delicate part of you between your legs.

No!

Right now really wasn’t a good time for you to be here.

No matter how much he pushed those thoughts away, he could still feel himself lose his senses dangerously fast.

Suddenly, the night you confessed that you wanted to have a baby was reeling in his mind relentlessly— all he could focus on now was to breed you. And the way the dress was lifting up to reveal more of your legs as you bent over was only adding to his torment.

“Found them!” You exclaimed. After searching most of the lab cabinets, you found the vials with the neutralisers.

As Miguel stepped closer to approach you, he saw you held one of the vials out in your hand.

He seized your wrist and forced you up from the floor so you looked up at him.

“Necesitas irte,” The statement was punctured with authority, devoid of any room for negotiation.

Even if you were fully aware about the effects of his Rapture, he still couldn’t have you here. Not when he was in such a compromising position right now.

You frowned while still holding the vial in your grasp.

“I’m not leaving until I see you take the neutraliser,” Of course you were unfazed by his hard expression. You could easily break his assertive mask, but right now was a terrible time for your stubbornness.

“Amor…” It took every fiber of him to make himself sound as convincing as possible. Yet, he could still feel himself crack.

He could feel your pulse throbbing under his fingertips, even after he loosened his grip around your wrist. A vital sign of his wife’s consciousness and presence.

He imagined what it would be like having another heartbeat growing inside you, being nurtured and carried by you. He groaned at the mere thought.

“You…you threw away your birth control pills, right?” He already knew the answer but he had to be sure. He needed to hear it from you. Your scent was getting stronger by the second and his breathing quickened.

Your face scrunched in confusion by his question, completely oblivious to where the conversation was going. “Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”

Your simple answer made his dick twitch desperately under the digital suit. If he kept his sex drive at bay any longer, he will combust. He needed to be inside you.

He decided he wasn’t going to hold back his desires anymore. He was going to have his way with his wife.

“Let me breed you…please,” His voice was low in an attempt to conceal his faltering demeanor, but he knew you could easily see his weakness right through him.

“Mig…what…” the words lodged in your throat before he saw the change in your expression.

You quickly picked up on what was going on and realised that he was rutting. But you probably didn’t anticipate it to happen so quickly, otherwise you wouldn’t still be here.

He rolled his hips once against your lower body so you could feel his hard on, earning a gasp from you. He was deliberately rubbing against your clit through the skirt of the dress.

You still haven’t granted him permission, but he could see the way his request was churning in your mind. He pressed his forehead on yours and you looked up at him. He couldn’t read your expression but he could smell your pheromones and how much this was turning you on right now.

“Por favor,” he whispered before he kissed your cheek. He didn’t expect himself to sound so needy.

“Yeah…alright,” you answered. He sighed in relief, a fraction of his tension gone just from your permission alone.

He scooped you up before quickly placing you on one of the benches. His hands lifted the hem of your dress up, revealing more of your bare legs.

He noticed from his peripheral vision the glass vial slipped from your grasp and rolled off the bench before it shattered on the floor. But he paid no mind to it.

His hands halted once he reached your rear before pulling down your panties. He moaned when he saw the fabric candy wet from your arousal, emitting more of your scent.

Your pheromones were overpowering him now and it was driving him insane. You were soaked.

He wondered how long your clit had been throbbing for, how long you’ve been aroused by this. Perhaps you purposely wore a dress with only your panties underneath.

Once the panties were off, he got you to lean back further until your back was pressed against the bench. He lifted your dress higher to reveal your pussy. You were all slick and ready for him.

With a few taps on his watch, his digital suit vanished, leaving him with only his lab coat. His dick was throbbing pathetically with precum leaking from the tip.

He closed the gap between the two of you until his tip pressed against your opening and his precum mixed with your wetness.

He pushed himself in, feeling the resistance from your tight walls, until he was balls deep. Your mouth hung open as you were taking in everything from him.

The warmth from your pussy that was now engulfing his cock felt like a lifeline. He quickly kissed your temple because he knew we weren't going to hold back now.

Before you could lean into his touch, he started ramming himself into your poor cunt. Your eyes shot up in shock before you grabbed onto his biceps for support.

His pace was relentless and driven by the thought of filling you with his cum until they would finally stick. Your moans and the wet sounds filled his ears as he kept plunging himself into you.

You walls were squeezing his dick in all the right places and he couldn’t bring himself to slow down.

Each slap of his hips rocked your body on the bench further, threatening to slip away. But he held a tight grip on your waist so you would stay in place.

“I’ll get you knocked up, so everyone will know…You’re. With. Me.” He ended the last few syllables with a snap of his hips against your rear, adding emphasis and weight to his words.

You let out a breathy laugh between each thrust, amused by his statement.

“Miguel, I think the wedding bands give it away— ohmygod-” your sentence was cut off by a sudden hard thrust from his dick.

“That’s not enough and you know it, I need you full with my babies.” His words came out as a growl and his pace didn’t falter a fraction.

A few locks of his hair drooped from his head as he kept moving, sticking to the film of sweat that formed on his forehead.

He felt the contractions of your walls and he knew your orgasm was just a few thrusts away. You fists gripped the sleeves on his lab coat as you moaned loudly. He watched as your eyes squeezed shut and your climax came crashing down with each stroke from his dick.

He stopped momentarily to move your legs that was wrapped around his waist and rested them on his shoulders. He had better leverage and could reach deeper inside you.

The change in position had you crying out helplessly as he pressed himself into you more. You just reached your peak and you were still riding out your high but he didn’t give you a chance to recollect yourself.

“Miguel-!”

You were overstimulated in bliss as his dick was hitting the bundle of nerves that he knew would drive you over the edge. You could only utter fragments of his name along with your low moans.

Miguel watched with pride as his wife was falling apart under him.

“That’s it, clench onto me. Just like that.”

He could’ve sworn this was the best thing he had experienced with you and he fucked you many times before.

Perhaps the Rapture made him twice as sensitive to all the pleasure he was receiving and more aware of how you were snug around him.

His pace was becoming sloppy and staggered and he could just about feel the edge of his orgasm. Just a little longer of him being soaked in your cunt that always fit to his size perfectly.

His hips flinched into yours one last time before his cum was pouring into the depths of your womb in hopes that you will get pregnant.

Bred by him until it stained you.

Your legs were limp and slipped off of his shoulders. He groaned at the sheer force of his own climax.

He thrusted himself a few more times while more cum was spilling from him. He eventually came to a halt with his dick still half way inside you.

Your breathing was still erratic but you still managed to lift your head up to see where your bodies were meshed together.

He caught a flicker of surprise in your face as you noticed the mess before you under your dress. You gazed back up at him again.

“So…are you satisfied? Do you want me to give the neutralisers now?” you managed to huffed out, still breathless.

Miguel responded by pushing the remaining half of his dick back into your swollen cunt with a wet slap. You let out a broken moan in shock.

“Not yet…”

His lips curled up slightly as he started to plunge himself into you again…

The neutraliser forgotten.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @thealleydog @lazyjellyfish300 @club-danger-zone @farrowroyale @idk1341 @tinauh14 @mybvalentine @migueloharastruelove @ghost-lantern @ginanet @miguels-aranita @francesca-the-1st @monarchberrysblog @ruby-rubes26 @loosecan @oharasfilipinawife @miguelzslvtz @pxtched @hwasoup @the-pan-liquid @homewreckingwreck

I don’t think this one ate :( …I suck at writing dialogues. But I’m so fly when it comes to writing inner conflicts, like with Miguel’s chain of thoughts in this story, and body language. That’s why there isn’t a lot of dialogues here. Maybe because I’m an overthinker and it’s easy to write a lot when it comes to what the character is thinking lol

Idk what it is I’m starting to fucking hate using tumblr now, it just feels a little miserable being here. That’s why AO3 >>> literally anything else

[runninriot]

written for @steddie-week day 6

Love Drunk

prompt: dizzy, drunken confessions | wc: 2.5k | rated: T | cw: alcohol | tags: platonic stobin, steve has a crush on eddie, pining, jealousy, love confessions, friends to lovers | also on ao3

  "Steeeve, I really don’t think this is a good idea.“ Robin grabs him by the sleeve of his shirt to hold him back.

   "Oh, but it is a great idea, actually! The best idea I ever had!“

Steve has to concentrate hard not to trip over his tongue, to pronounce each word clearly.

He’s drunk. Like, really drunk. Drunk as in - the floor’s moving like he’s standing on a boat rocking on the shore and the world around him is turning too fast.

He knows he’s had too much but that doesn’t keep him from downing another shot.

Steve needs it, needs the courage. Because he has a plan.

   "You’re gonna regret it, Steve. And then I’ll have to listen to you whine and complain and you’re gonna blame me for not holding you back! I can’t let you do this.“

    My sweet Robin.

He’ll thank her later for this. For trying to talk some sense into him. She’s his best friend in the world. And usually, he knows he’s always better off listening to her advice. Because Robin is smart as hell. He’s lucky to have her. She loves him, always has his best interest at heart.

Steve turns around to look at her, can’t fight the urge to boop her on the nose.

   “You’re cute,” he says completely out of context and while he can see the confusion on her blurry face, she still laughs at the notion.

   “Well, you’re not,” she says and Steve pouts.

   “Don’t you love me anymooore?”

    God, Steve sounds like a kid even to his own ears. How pathetic.

He’s always been an emotional drunk.

That’s probably why, when he caught sight of Eddie laughing at something this- this random guy standing too close to him must’ve said, Steve suddenly felt like someone had pulled the rug right from under his feet.

   “You know I do. That’s why I’m telling you not to do anything stupid.” Robin says sternly, seemingly unimpressed by the emotional turmoil raging in his mind.

The thing is, technically, he knows she’s right. Sober Steve would listen to Robin without hesitation. Would let her take him home and comfort him while he pours his heart out to her.

But Drunk Steve?

Drunk Steve is as bold as he is stupid.

Drunk Steve has a mind of his own, steered by a heart that is too loud for any sensible thoughts to come through.

He can’t stop himself from staring, from watching Eddie through the open kitchen door that leads to the other room, where the music is loud and everyone’s having a great time.

Everyone, including Eddie and random guy, who’s touching Eddie’s arm, smiling and batting his lashes at him. He’s flirting with Eddie, undoubtedly. And Eddie clearly doesn’t mind, going by the way he keeps moving closer to the other guy, holding his gaze, reciprocating his touch.

That’s just-

Not okay.

He needs to do something.

Like, right now.

   “’m jus’ gonna talk to him,” Steve announces to Robin without looking at her.

She sighs, and he knows Robin has accepted her defeat when she finally lets go of his arm.

   “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

He barely catches her last words before making his way over to where Eddie and Rando are standing, careful not to stumble because the floor is uneven. Or maybe there’s something wrong with his feet? Who knows. Doesn’t matter, he’s on a mission.

Slowly and on wobbly legs, he makes his way through the spinning party crowd until he finally reaches his destination.

As if he can sense his presence, Eddie turns around immediately, while the guy next to him is throwing metaphorical daggers at Steve for interrupting their conversation.

   “Steve? Are you okay?” Eddie sounds concerned for some reason but Steve can’t find it in him to question it, not when Eddie holds out a hand and touches his shoulder.

Not when the hand on his arm feels so nice. And keeps him steady. Keeps his body from swaying.

    Why is the floor moving so much?

   “Do you need to sit down?”

Before Steve can wonder why Eddie would ask him that, he’s losing his balance, feels his knees give out and then all of a sudden, everything goes dark.

   “There you are.”

Steve blinks his eyes open, tries to focus his vision on the figure looming above him.

There’s something cold and damp on his forehead and a warm hand caressing his cheek.

   “Wha’ happened?” Steve’s voice is hoarse and his mouth is dry and there’s a nasty aftertaste of tequila on his tongue.

    Ugh.

Steve tries to push himself up from where he’s lying on... a bed? But he fails, feels dizzy, and slumps right back down.

   “Careful, Stevie. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

It is only now Steve realises who is talking to him. Who is sitting beside him at the edge of the bed with a hand pressed to the washcloth on his forehead to keep it in place.

   “Eddie?”

    Oh fuck.

Robin will never let him live that down.

   “The one and only,” Eddie smiles and although Steve feels like absolute shit, he can’t help but return the gesture.

   “Where are we?”

The room is only dimly lit by a bedside lamp, with the door closed and the curtains pulled shut. Steve can hear the music coming from the party still going on downstairs.

   “Linda allowed me to take you to her room after that little stunt you pulled.”

Eddie must sense his confusion because before Steve can ask what he means, he continues.

   “You blacked out. Kinda fell right into my arms,” he chuckles. “I caught you before you went down and brought you up here. I asked Jeremy to find Robin and tell her what happened but I guess he... was a bit mad at me for leaving.”

    Oh god.

Steve remembers now.

Jeremy must be the guy Eddie was talking to.

He can’t blame him for being pissed, though he’s probably not mad at Eddie but rather at Steve for interrupting their little- whatever it was.

   “Sorry for ruining your date,” Steve says quietly, shame creeping up inside.

It’s what he wanted, isn’t it? That was his plan.

Not to faint! But to disrupt whatever flirting game random guy, Jeremy, thought he had going on. But now that he’s slowly coming to his senses, he can’t help but to feel guilty for it.

   “Ah, it’s fine. He’ll live.”

Eddie grins, doesn’t sound mad at all which is good but the fact that he didn’t deny that it was, in fact, a date, makes Steve’s stomach turn into knots.

Because while he’s definitely still drunk, Sober Steve is slowly trying to force his way into his conscious, crawling through the fog still clinging to his mind. And with that comes the realisation of how stupid his plan was.

If he hadn’t blacked out, he would’ve told Eddie that he-

    Godfuckingdamn, this would’ve ended in a catastrophe.

Eddie doesn’t like Steve like that. They’re friends, nothing more.

And Steve would’ve ruined it all.

He knows he can’t keep his tongue in check when it’s loose from alcohol and still, consciously made the decision to go over the limit anyway.

How could he be so stupid? So recklessly putting their friendship on the line for- what? A rejection?

Steve should’ve listened to Robin. She tried to warn him, tried to save him from embarrassing himself but of course, he didn’t listen.

Now Eddie is sitting here next to him in depressing silence instead of being with-

   “You should go looking for him.”

   “For who?”

   “Jeremy? I’m fine now. Thanks for looking after me.”

Eddie’s hand slips away from Steve’s forehead and there’s a change in his expression that Steve doesn’t know how to read. He looks... disappointed? Kind of hurt in a way, and Steve doesn’t know why.

   “I’ll go looking for Robin and ask her to take me home. Wouldn’t want to waste any more of your precious time than I already have.”

The words feel like acid on his tongue because they’re lies. He’d want nothing more than to stay here with Eddie a little while longer. Hell, he’d spend the whole night alone with Eddie if he could.

But he can’t because it wouldn’t be fair to keep Eddie to himself when he could be out there having a good time.

Doesn’t matter that it hurts like a bitch to imagine Eddie going home with that guy at the end of the night.

To imagine someone else’s hands on his body, someone else’s lips on his mouth.

To imagine someone else getting to have all these things Steve would die for.

   “You’re not wasting my time, Steve. Never. I love spending time with you.”

Eddie smiles again, nervously rubbing the back of his neck and it’s way too much for Steve’s weak little heart to handle.

   “You can’t say things like that, Eds.” Steve says because he needs Eddie to stop making his heart flutter.

   “Why not?”

   “Because I might take advantage of it.”

    What the fuck? Shut your mouth before you say something even more stupid.

Steve finally manages to sit up, head still feeling heavy but at least the wooziness is gone.

With his new seating position, Eddie is suddenly so much closer than before.

They’re sitting next to each other, arms and legs touching, and Steve has to force himself not to lean into the warmth radiating off Eddie’s body.

   “I wouldn’t mind.” Eddie says while he fumbles with his rings, eyes focused on his own hands.

It’s like he purposely avoids looking at Steve.

   “Oh, you would,” Steve insists. “Because I’d want too much.”

Eddie looks back up, tilts his head to the side.

   “What do you mean?”

Steve feels sick.

Not from the booze but from the violent fluttering sensation in his gut – he’s worried he’ll throw up butterflies if he opens his mouth.

   “I-“

He feels dizzy again, this time for reasons he’s not willing to confess.

Eddie’s gaze is piercing. It’s like he is trying to look right through him, searching for the truth that’s locked away in Steve’s heart. Barely held back from pouring out, thrashing behind bars that slowly crack and crumble as Steve loses himself in Eddie’s eyes.

His emotions swim in a sea of tequila and beer. He feels light-headed and the room is spinning again but this time, it’s because Steve feels drunk on Eddie.

   “I have a big, fat crush on you.”

It’s out. Just like that. And nothing bad happens. The world still revolves around the sun, people downstairs are still having fun, and Eddie doesn’t tell him to fuck off.

Instead, Eddie takes his face in both hands and looks him deep in the eyes.

   “Is this drunk you talking? Or do you mean it?”

Steve allows himself to lean into the warmth of Eddie’s palm, and smiles.

   “Both? I mean it. But I wouldn’t have told you if I hadn’t drowned my last functioning brain cells in Tequila,” Steve says honestly and his heart makes a funny thing when Eddie snorts at his words.

   “You’re lucky you’re cute, Stevie. I can’t believe Robin let you off the leash like that.”

   “Hey!” Steve protests with a light push to Eddie’s chest, absently lets his hand linger where he can feel Eddie’s heart beat hard and fast beneath his palm.

   “Just for your information, she did tell me it was a bad idea. But I saw you with that guy and-“

    Oops.

That’s not what he wanted to say.

   “Oooh, so you got drunk because you were jealous, huh?” Eddie wags his brows and it looks so dorky, Steve can’t help but laugh.

   “No! Okay maybe. But-“

Steve only now realises that Eddie’s hands are still cupping his face. That Eddie hasn’t pulled away; he’s still touching him, still so close there’s barely any room between them. This is too close. And although it feels good, Steve knows it isn’t right.

   “Listen, Eddie. I know that this isn’t mutual. And I guess- well, I hope this doesn’t make it awkward between us? I like you, Eddie. A lot. And I- I hope we can still be friends, des-“

  “Woah, hold on, Stevie!”

Suddenly, Eddie’s expression turns serious and Steve feels like his heart stops as he holds his breath, waiting for whatever comes next.

   “Before you jump to conclusions, I gotta confess something, too. I might also have a big, fat, stupid crush on you.”

Eddie’s hands move to the back of Steve’s neck, fingers curling into his hair in this kind of gentle but demanding way that makes Steve shiver.

   “I just didn’t think I’d have a chance.“

He moves closer, so close their noses are touching. Steve’s heart does that thing again, flips and kicks and he can feel Eddie’s do the same.

It makes him feel bold.

   “Can I kiss you?”

Steve wouldn’t even be mad if Eddie said no. He probably smells like a distillery and he looks like shit and his mouth is so dry because-

    God, why did I drink so much?

   “Only if I can kiss you, too.”

Eddie doesn’t wait for a response, just closes the remaining distance between their lips, tentatively and almost shy. But the way he digs his fingers deeper into Steve’s hair and pulls shows a desperation that matches Steve’s own.

Steve, who clings to Eddie with both arms wrapped tight around him, kissing him, touching him, losing himself in the moment.

He’s breathless when they part.

   “You good?” Eddie asks, eyes searching for any sign of discomfort in Steve’s.

   “Perfect,” Steve lies, doesn’t want Eddie to stop on his behalf, wants to keep kissing him.

   “You’re a bad liar, Stevie. You look tired.”

Eddie’s right. Steve should go home, drink a gallon of water and go to sleep, let the buzz wear off and-

   “Will this still be real tomorrow?”

    Please, let it be real.

Eddie presses another kiss to his lips before he nods.

   “I’m yours if you want me.”

   “Want you.”

   “Come on, then. Let’s get you home.”

   “Are you coming home with me?” Steve asks, sounding a little more hopeful that he’d want to admit.

   “Just for tonight, let’s pretend I’m a gentleman, okay? I don’t want Robin to kill me before I have the chance to tell her.”

   “Tell her what?”

   “That I’m in love with her best friend.”

Steve will have the worst hangover tomorrow, he’s sure.

And Robin will have a lot to say about all of it.

But to hear Eddie say those words makes it all worth it.

   “What about Jeremy?” Steve’s being a teasing little shit now, he knows he is, can’t help himself.

   “I think his name was actually Jeffrey, or Jackson? I don’t really know him. He just wanted to talk to me about my band, saw us play a few weeks back.” Eddie grins, has this knowing look in his eyes that sends a hot rush to Steve’s cheeks.

   “Oh you bastard!” Steve huffs, feels stupid for falling for something like that. “I can't believe you let me think you two had something going on. That’s so mean!”

They both laugh.

   “Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Eddie smirks and Steve can’t not kiss him.

   “I hate you,” Steve says through a smile and Eddie answers with his own.

   “I know, I love you, too.”

[milf-murdock]

Captain

Younger!Captain John Price x Reader

Summary:  Price just got promoted to captain, and then inadvertently discovers he really likes it when you call him by his new title. Like, he really likes it. How do we celebrate this new promotion and self discovery?? By fucking in an elevator of course! Warnings: SMUT!! So much fucking smut. Established relationship. P in V. Oral (male receiving). Fingering (female receiving). Fucking in an elevator ?? Listen this is just so fucking filthy. Porn with some plot. But also of course I had to end it with fluff because I don’t know when to stop.  I don’t fucking know how elevators work. We go with it. 

Also, check out this beautiful piece of art by @ wombywoo for the most beautiful Captain Price photo inspiration

“I knew you’d look good in these new dress blues,” you smirked, brushing off invisible lint from John’s jacket with your spare hand as you admired the glint of the many medals and honorifics that decorated your husband’s chest—including the three shiny gold stars that represented his new rank. Your other hand held a pair of high heels as uncomfortable as they were stunning and you had rid your aching feet of the offending items as soon as you and John were in the relative privacy of the elevator, heading up to your hotel suite. The swanky hotel was a little surprise of yours to John, knowing he wouldn’t want to travel all the way back home after a long day of ceremony and celebration.

You and John had just left the ceremony honoring his latest promotion to Captain. It was a night full of pride, honor, and maybe just a few too many glasses of wine post-ceremony, if you were being honest. 

“I was under the impression you thought I look good in everything,” John drawled, his lips twitching upwards, a hint of a smile gracing his face. 

“Oh is that so…Captain Price,” you playfully quipped and watched as John’s lips curved upwards even more, a slight flush creeping up his neck. 

You opened your mouth to comment again on his new rank, enjoying the momentary power trip–it wasn’t often you could incite this kind of reaction from your lover, when a soft ding  warned you that the elevator had reached your floor. You smothered your frown, taking a step off the elevator before stumbling over the silken hem of your gown. A strong hand gripped your elbow to steady you, another reaching around to rest firmly on your waist. Before you could attempt another step, a force abruptly pulled you backwards, your back pressing against John’s muscled torso. His warm breath caressed your neck as he dipped his head low. “Say it again,” he all but growled, his lips ghosting your neck in a way that sent heat straight to your core. You couldn’t help the slight arch of your back in response, noting with pure satisfaction the reaction you were garnering from John. You could feel his hardened arousal through the pristine dress slacks, and your cunt clenched in response. 

“Well now, love, here’s the thing,” you tease, pressing your backside against his hardened member and relishing John’s sharp intake of breath in response. “I don’t take orders from you.” You felt the rumble deep in his chest as he took the bait, his fingers all but slamming the keypad to shut the doors to the elevator. Confusion flitted across your face, but John didn’t even hesitate as he forcefully pressed the bright red stop button to halt the elevator completely.

A brief alarm sounded, followed by a robotic voice that was no doubt meant to sound soothing as it reassured passengers that the elevator had been stopped and help would be arriving soon. Understanding began to dawn as John released his hold on you, and you turned to see his familiar blue eyes peering down at you, ravenous. 

“If you don’t take orders from me,” John’s voice was low and steady, a hint of that tameless lust just under the surface. “Then please, do tell me, who do you take orders from?” He took a step closer, towering above you with a piercing glare. Reflexively, you took a step back. Well, tried to–the elevator door pressed up against you, and you weren’t  sure if it was the sudden coolness of the metal or the heat of your husband's gaze that caused the shiver that shot up your spine. 

“Well, that would be…” you  swallowed hard, wracking your brain for a name, any name. “Umm,”  you attempted to buy yourself time, but you felt as though every coherent thought you’d ever had eddied out of your mind, a ravenous need overtaking your entire body. All you could think about is John and how damned good he looked in that fucking uniform. As if reminding yourself, your eyes trailed downward, soaking in every last detail of his new dress uniform. Your gaze stopped short upon seeing the evident outline of his arousal and you instinctively bit down on your bottom lip to conceal your moan. 

John took another step to you, quickly closing the small distance between you two. You felt his firm grip on your chin, forcing your head to tilt up and meet his gaze. Passion burned in his eyes and you felt the last of your resolve melting away. Fuck being witty right now, you thought to yourself, I need this. As if he read your mind, John’s lips crashed against yours and your entire body ignited with need. Your fingers tangled in his hair and every inch of your body pressed up against him. John’s hands gracefully slid down your hips, cupping the upper back of your thighs. You took the sign for what it was, giving a little jump as he lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He didn’t even break the kiss, just pressed your back against the doors of the  elevator, grinding his erection into your core. The friction was practically electric and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips as you break the kiss. You leaned your head against the steel frame and John’s lips moved to your newly exposed neck, sucking and nipping the sensitive flesh. He took the thin strap of your gown between his teeth and  before you could so much as utter a warning, he ripped it straight from the gown. Without its integral support, the delicate satin of the bust fell down, exposing one of your breasts. 

“God damn it, John, that was expensive,” you chastised halfheartedly, your chest rapidly rising and falling as he once again ground into you. As if in apology, John peppered kisses across your exposed breast before taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. Your complaints died in your throat as your body became alight with pleasure. As he continued his ministrations, he pinned you against the wall with his body, freeing one hand to gently slide your remaining strap down your arm, exposing the other breast in a manner completely opposite to its torn counterpart. John switched his attention to the other breast, gingerly taking your other nipple into his mouth. He took a moment to adjust your position against the elevator, one hand cupping your ass as the other hand slid between your bodies. For the second time that night you heard John’s sharp intake of breath as he brushed your bare self. 

“Are you really telling me you didn’t wear underwear to such a formal event?” he breathed out, barely concealing his moan at finding you bare and ready for him. “For fuck’s sake,” he breathed out, “you are so wet for me.”

You couldn’t help but let out a slight breathy laugh. “I told you I like the uniform,” you panted before your sassy remarks were replaced by cries of pleasure as two of John’s fingers plunged into your aching cunt. 

His name fell from your lips like a prayer. 

John. John. John. 

Your body was lost in the passion, his lips on your breasts, his fingers curling towards himself, hitting that spot that makes you see fucking stars. He’s relentless, devouring you–mind, body, and soul.  Before you knew it, you were on the brink of pure bliss. “John,”  you gasped, “I’m going to come,” you warned, though you knew it wasn’t necessary. Knowing your husband and all your years together, he knows exactly when you’re on the edge just as well as he knows exactly how to pleasure you to get you there. He is as in tune with your moans and sighs of pleasure as he is with his own heartbeat. 

His fingers picked up the pace, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Come for me, my love,” John purred in your ear, and the low timbre of his voice combined with the heat of his words had you tumbling over the edge of pleasure, his name on your lips as stars crossed your vision. 

You slowly drifted back to reality as John pressed soft kisses across your chest, trailing up your neck and back to your lips. He set you down on shaky legs, supporting you with his strong grip. 

Having finally caught your breath, you took a second to take stock of the sight before you: John’s dark hair, once perfectly styled, now a mess, the ironed jacket now crumpled and partially undone, and worse of all, those brand new dress pants now clearly soaked through with a mix of  his precum and your juices. The sight had your mouth watering. You fell to your knees before the captain, hands reaching up to unfasten his belt. It fell to the floor with a satisfying clank, but you didn’t even flinch.Your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip as you oh-so-slowly began to free John's cock. 

A low hiss escaped John’s lips as you took his bulging member into your hand. Your hand glided across the surface, eyes drinking in the veritable feast before you. No matter how many times you had been with John, his size always took you by surprise. The length, the girth, the thick vein that ran along the underside. Sliding back the uncut skin, your attention shifted to the deep red head, your thumb swiping a bead of precum from the tip. John’s gasp only encouraged you to lean forward and take the tip into your mouth, his fingers instantly tangling in your hair. Your mouth slid down his length, struggling to take as much of him in as you could. You used your hand to take whatever couldn’t fit in your mouth, and your mouth and hand worked in tandem to pleasure him. John’s quiet moans and growls of pleasure only spurred you on, and you worked to take more of him in your mouth. Only once the head of his cock hit the back of your throat did you stop, looking up at him with tears in your eyes, mascara trailing down your cheek. His loving gaze peered down at you, his lips ajar as he panted with need. 

The sight of you, on your knees before him, looking up at him from under your dark lashes, his cock resting in your mouth–it almost sent him over the edge. It took everything he had to pull himself out of your mouth. You sat on your knees, looking up at him as he closed his  eyes and took a few deep breaths to steady himself. A brief moment of uncertainty flashed across your face,  “Was it…not good for…” you trailed off, slightly confused why he stopped you. You weren’t one to brag, but you certainly hadn’t had any complaints before. Before you could even finish the sentence, John pressed a finger to your lips. “You’re perfect,” he breathed out. “I wasn’t going to last like that,” he finished, a small smile at the edge of his lips as he helped lift you to your feet. “And I’m not done with you,” he growled as his lips crashed against yours once more, but this time there was even more urgency in his kiss. He pressed your back against the elevator wall, sliding the skirt of your dress up your hips so he could lift you up again. Your legs wrapped around his waist, causing his throbbing member to brush up against your soaking wet cunt. Biting back a groan, John repositioned his hips to line up with your entrance.  With a growl, he slid home, your earlier orgasm helping his cock slide in with ease. You can feel and hear the groan deep in John’s throat as he bottoms out, the head of his cock brushing against your cervix. 

John’s forehead dipped to touch yours, his unsteady breathing matching yours. His hips froze as he waited for you to adjust. You waited a few beats, relishing the delicious stretch, before you gave a nod of approval. Supporting you with his hands, he pulled out, all the way to the tip, before slamming home. Your head fell back to the cool metal wall as you gasped in pleasure. John continued the action, hips colliding with yours, every thrust sending a wave of pleasure through you. Your moans got louder, joining in the symphony of your bodies slapping against one another, the soft beat of your body against the wall of the elevator as John railed into you. 

It was too much. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, and you didn’t think  you could take much  more. “Yes,” you cred out,  “Yes, Fuck me, Captain,��� you pant out, extra emphasis placed on his title. John’s hips stuttered at hearing  that word on  your  lips  once more . With a growl he slammed into you even harder. “Again,” his voice so low it sent a shiver straight to your cunt. 

“Please,” you begged, as his hips piston in and out of you with abandon, veritably nailing you to the wall with his cock. He hit that delicious spot deep within you and every thrust pulled  you closer and closer to  bliss.  “Captain,” you cried out before biting John’s shoulder as your orgasm crests, washing over you in endless waves of pleasure. You bit down harder than intended, but you don’t have time to regret it, not as John loses all semblance of control, thrusting into you with abandon. He thrust into you once, twice, and a final time as he came with a grunt of pleasure and his hips stuttered as he flooded you with his come. 

Your breaths were ragged, foreheads pressed against each other, feeling every twitch of his cock deep inside you. After a few beats, John withdrew, gently lowering you to the ground on legs that felt less than stable. He made sure to tuck himself back into his uniform and  adjust the remaining strap on your dress. You kept your grip on him, balancing yourself, as you felt his hot seed start to drip down your leg. An attempted step forward proved to be too much in your addled state, your leg threatening collapse as soon as you tried to step away from John. Without a word, John scooped you up into his arms, just like on your wedding night, before pressing a series of buttons on the elevator keypad. The elevator gave a small jolt back to life, and you found yourself thankful that John was holding onto you so tightly. Like nothing happened, John stepped off the lift and crossed you over to your suite.

You dozed in and out of consciousness in your blissed-out, post-orgasmic state, but came to as John gingerly laid you on the bed. He  helped slide you out of your dress, and you made a mental note to berate him in the morning for ruining your dress, already mapping out when he would take you shopping for its replacement. You watched in silence as John disassembled his uniform and set it out almost reverently before crawling into bed next to you. Rolling onto your side, you laid your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I am so  proud of you, Captain Price,” you murmured. His hand trailed slow,  lazy circles over  your arm and down your back, pulling you closer into him. “Everything I do is for you,” John replied, his voice barely  above a whisper. He pressed his lips to the top of  your head, “I love you.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Monster, Inc. 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is an asshole, you know this. But what happens when he turns his wrath upon you? (plus!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, this reader is known as Missie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“Mr. Hansen,” you trill into the foyer, “I have your breakfast.” 

You ease shut the door behind you and pause to kick off your kitten heels on the mat. It’s one of those days your boss has decided to work from home but it doesn’t make your day any less jam-packed. You wait for an answer, not that you ever get one, and proceed. 

You go to his office and find it empty. You frown. You leave his breakfast on the oval island in the kitchen and bounce around to the bottom of the stairs, “Mr. Hansennnnn.” 

Nothing. You check your phone. By chance, had he changed his mind. Is he at the office waiting for his organic egg white wrap with spinach and feta? You don’t see any new emails or missed calls. You hum and teeter in indecision. You don’t go upstairs.  

You tap on Mr. Hansen, listed under your favourites, and put your phone to your ear. You wait and hear the distant ringtone. The line goes dead as the call is dismissed. You sigh and try again. What is he up to? The same thing. He declines your call and you shake your head at the echo of the curtailed ringtone. 

Fine, you can wait for him to come home. Sometimes, you feel like you’re looking after a spoiled child. He reminds you of your baby brother and how your mother would struggle to get him out of bed for school. Rami was always such a brat. 

If he takes a while, you’ll reheat the wrap in the air fryer. You surpass it and enter the laundry room. You put the dryer on fluff to refresh the load the maid left in there and pace around impatiently. You go through the RSVP requests for Mr. Hansen and decline those you know he’ll roll his eyes at. 

The dryer finishes its quick tumble and you fold the delicates into the waiting basket. You finish and carry the aromatic clothes out through the kitchen and to the bottom of the stairs. Again, you chirp up after Mr. Hansen. 

“I’m coming up with your laundry, sir,” you warn as you get no answer. 

You warily begin the ascent as you clutch the handles of the basket. You peer around the hall and continue on down towards the left. Slow, shuffling steps towards the slightly ajar door at the end. You go to set down the load by the door frame and the door swings open abruptly. 

“Missie!” Lloyd grabs you and pulls you inside as you squeal. “There the fuck you are.” 

“I called--” you choke as he keeps a hold of your arm and drags you across the bedroom, “sir, your breakfast is downstairs--” 

“Missie, shut up!” He snarls as he urges you on and you scramble to keep from tripping.  

He shoves you through another door and your hip hits the frame with a thump. You rub it as he lets you go and you turn to face him as he follows you in. The space is made brighter by the four bulbs under glass shades that shine over the mirrors. You reel as you try to steady yourself after his sudden seizure. 

You realise he’s in no more than a pair of silk black boxers, if you can call them that. They’re short enough that they barely touch his thighs. His thick muscular thighs. The elastic clings to his equally firm torso and you try not to show your discomfort. 

“Sir, what’s going on?” 

“Do you see it?” He turns and pulls a small round mirror closer as wiggles his upper lip. The mirror is attached to a bending arm and tilts all around. “Missie, tell me I’m seeing things.” 

He grabs your shoulder and points to his mustache with his other hand. Amid the sandy brown cluster of neatly trimmed hair is a single silver strand. It’s not very obvious unless you’re looking for it. 

“Uh, your mustache?” 

“The goddamn grey!” He snarls and shakes you, “this is all your fault.” 

“What?” You squeak, “my fault?” 

“That goddamn cake! Forty-six? Like you’re rubbing it in my face,” he lets you go and turns back to the large mirrors, leaning in to push out his upper lip with his tongue. He growls, “I hired you to lessen my stress so why the fuck is this--” He faces you again and points at his mustache, “happening?” 

“Sir, um, well, you could pluck it--” 

“Fuck off!” 

“Dye?” 

“Shut up! You stupid bimbo,” he snarls and crosses his arms, leaning against the marble counter, “I don’t need your stupid ideas.” 

“Yes, sir,” you nod, “ but, er, why... what did you need? I could bring your breakfast up--” 

He looks at you so sharply you swallow your question. He curls his lips and huffs. His eyes crawl down your body and he angles his head coyly. 

“You pull with that ass?” He scoffs. 

“Excuse me, sir--” 

“You heard me? Lotta of chubby chasers? Feeders? Weirdos?” He says. 

“Sir,” you resist a frown, your cheeks trembling, “that’s... not work.” 

“You’re on my dime, I’m asking, so it’s work,” he insists. He drops his chin and looks down at himself. He flexes his chest, “I know damn well you’re not getting grade A meat like this.” 

You avert your eyes and sniff, “sir, I’m single and not looking but I appreciate you asking.” 

“Ugh, are you always so annoyingly happy?” He sneers. 

“It’s a nice day, sir. Bright out. And you know, a lot of women would say that grey makes you more distinguished,” you suggest, “now your mustache matches your head.” 

His eyes dart back to you and he stands straight, “what?” 

“Well, er...” you gesture vaguely up, “you know...” you touch your temples. His are shaved but you can still see the lightness there, “er, nothing, sir. I’m just uhhhhh rambling. Anyway, I will go warm up your wrap--” 

He blocks you, jabbing you in the stomach as he corners you in the bathroom, “I don’t have gray hair.” 

“Sir, you don’t, I’m colour blind.” 

“I don’t,” he insists again. 

“No, sir, no greys.” 

“I fucking don’t,” he barks and turns to the mirror once more, touching the sides of his head. His eyes are fiery in his reflection and scale over to you again, “get the fuck out!” 

“Sir,” you smile and cheek twitches. Oof. It isn’t going to be an easy day. 

[lillithsalvatore]

new beginning

pairing: single dad!jacaerys x actress!reader summary: in which jacae finally think its time for you to meet his son, aegon velaryon warning: modern au, jace being a single dad. english is not my native language!! please be nice!!

You’ve been dating Jacaerys Velaryon for a little over a year now, and it’s been nothing short of a dream. He’s kind, intelligent, and carries himself with an effortless charm that always makes you feel at ease. But beneath his warm smiles and easy-going nature, there was one thing you knew was important to him above all else: his son, Aegon.

From the beginning, Jace had been upfront about his life as a single father. He told you about Aegon on your first date, his eyes lighting up with pride as he spoke of his son. You’d listened, intrigued by this man who spoke so openly and lovingly about fatherhood. It was clear that Aegon was the center of his world, and you respected him even more for it.

Over the months, Jace would occasionally share stories about Aegon—a funny thing he said, how well he was doing in school, or how much he loved to play soccer. The two of them had a bond that was unbreakable, and you admired that. But for as much as you knew about Aegon, you had yet to meet him. Jace was protective, wanting to ensure that any new person in Aegon’s life was there for the right reasons. And you understood that, never pushing him to take that step before he was ready.

But now, after a year of building your relationship, Jace had decided that it was time.

"I want you to meet Aegon," Jace had said one evening as you were cuddled up on the couch, his voice steady but with a hint of nervousness. "If you’re ready, that is."

Your heart had fluttered at the thought. Meeting Aegon meant that Jace saw a future with you, one that included not just him but his son as well. You’d nodded, a smile spreading across your face as you reassured him that you were more than ready.

The day arrives, and as you stand outside Jace' home, your nerves are a tangled mess. You’ve visited his house many times before, but this time feels different—more significant. You smooth down your dress, trying to calm your racing heart as you take a deep breath. This isn’t just about impressing Aegon; it’s about showing him that you’re someone who will care for him just as much as you care for his father.

Jace opens the door, his familiar, warm smile instantly putting you at ease. "Hey," he greets, pulling you into a hug. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," you murmur against his chest, feeling a bit of the tension ease away. He presses a kiss to your forehead before pulling back, his eyes searching yours.

"Aegon’s in the living room, probably playing with his Legos," Jace tells you with a fond smile. "He’s really excited to meet you."

You nod, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. "I’m excited to meet him too."

He takes your hand, leading you inside. The house is filled with the cozy warmth you’ve come to associate with Jacaerys—a space that feels lived-in, full of memories. You can hear the soft clinking of Lego pieces being shuffled around, and your heart skips a beat as you realize that in just a few steps, you’ll finally meet Aegon.

As you round the corner into the living room, you see him—a small boy with curly brown hair that’s unmistakably inherited from his father, sitting on the floor with a concentration that makes you smile. He’s building something intricate, his little hands carefully placing each piece with the precision of an architect.

Jace clears his throat gently. "Aegon, buddy, I want you to meet someone."

Aegon looks up, his wide brown eyes—so similar to Jacaerys’—flicking from his father to you. There’s a moment of silence where he studies you, and you can see the wheels turning in his young mind, assessing who you are.

"Hi, Aegon," you say softly, kneeling down to his level. "I’m Y/n. I’ve heard so much about you."

He tilts his head slightly, curiosity evident in his gaze. "Dad talks about you a lot," he says after a beat, his voice small but confident. "He says you make him really happy."

Your heart melts at his words, and you glance up at Jace, who’s watching the interaction with a soft, almost shy smile. "Well, your dad makes me really happy too," you reply, your voice warm and sincere.

Aegon considers this for a moment before nodding, seemingly satisfied with your answer. "Do you like Legos?" he asks, holding up a piece of the spaceship he’s been working on.

You chuckle, nodding. "I do! I used to play with them all the time when I was your age. Maybe you can show me how to build something cool?"

His face lights up at the suggestion, and he scoots over to make room for you beside him. "Okay! I’m building a spaceship right now. Do you want to help?"

"I’d love to," you say, sitting down beside him. You can feel Jace watching the two of you, and when you glance up, you see a mixture of relief and joy in his expression.

As you and Aegon work together on the spaceship, you find yourself relaxing, the earlier nerves dissipating. Aegon is bright and inquisitive, asking you questions and explaining the different pieces with the seriousness of an expert. You listen intently, genuinely interested in what he has to say.

After a while, the three of you move to the kitchen where Jace has prepared a simple dinner—grilled cheese sandwiches, at Aegon’s request. The evening flows naturally, filled with laughter and easy conversation. Aegon warms up to you quickly, his initial shyness giving way to excitement as he shows you his favorite toys and talks about his friends at school.

As you sit at the table, Jace reaches over to squeeze your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. There’s a look in his eyes that tells you everything you need to know—he’s happy, and so are you.

Later that night, after Aegon has gone to bed, you and Jace find yourselves back in the living room, the remnants of the Lego spaceship still scattered across the floor. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you as you lean against his chest.

"Thank you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "For today. For being so amazing with Aegon."

"I love him already," you admit, your voice soft as you rest your head against him. "He’s an incredible kid, Jace. Just like his dad."

He chuckles, a sound that vibrates through you. "You’re incredible too. I knew Aegon would love you."

You smile, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you. This, you realize, is what you’ve been waiting for—a family, a future with the man you love and his son.

As you sit there in the quiet of the night, you can’t help but think that this is the start of something beautiful. The three of you, together, just like this.

[sinnersweets]

Cream Pie

DogDay x Reader (lemon)

Includes characters from my story so I recommend reading that first before reading this (pinned post)

Minors DNI!!

A/N: You asked for this

“Damian! Sarahs here!” “Coming!” I could hear Damian running around upstairs. Once a week Damian would stay over at Sarahs house and spend the night there, leaving me and DogDay to have some alone time. Though I will admit that every time he left my heart ached for him, he was my little kiddo. Damian came down the stairs with his backpack on and in his left arm was his plushie of his dad. “All ready kiddo?” “Yep!” I grabbed onto his hand and led him outside towards Sarahs car. Before he entered the car, I gave him a kiss on his forehead and hugged him. “You be good now.” “I will mom.” “I love you.” “I love you too mom and tell dad I love him also.” I let go of him and opened the door for him. “I will.” I waved goodbye as Sarah drove off.  

--------------- 

I was in the kitchen when I heard the front door open. “Angel! I’m home!” “I’m in the kitchen!” I could hear the front door close and soon heard DogDay come into the kitchen. “Where’s our little boy at?” “He already left for Sarahs.” I said while finishing up some dishes. “Aw, I was hoping I’d be here in time to see him off.” I could hear him put some bags onto the counter before he walked over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. 

“Angel~” I smiled and said, “Yes?” “It’s our time now.” He placed a kiss on top of my head while squeezing me. “I know. I’m almost done with these dishes and then-” I stopped talking as DogDay moved his hands down and started to unbutton my pants. My heart started racing. “Let’s play a game Angel. I’m going to touch you and you try to finish the dishes, okay?” DogDay then unzipped my pants and placed his hand outside of my underwear.  

My breathing got slightly heavier. “O-okay.” Already my voice was shaky. I knew there was no way I would be able to finish the dishes if he was going to touch me, but it sounded exciting. Once I started washing dishes again is when DogDay started to move his fingers in a circular motion down there. “Already wet are we~” DogDay then bent down and whispered, “Naughty Angel~” while nibbling on my ear. 

The way my body was feeling right now was indescribable. I bit down on my bottom lip and did my best to wash dishes. He stayed in the same spot for a few seconds before pulling on the side of my underwear and moving it out of his way. “Doing good Angel. But I promise you won’t be able to focus here in a few seconds~” As I now got a better feeling of him rubbing in between my folds I let out a soft moan. DogDay chuckled as he moved from my ear and onto my neck, kissing lightly and sucking on it.  

I was holding onto a wine cup and couldn’t continue rinsing it. Without a warning DogDay placed two fingers inside of me and started moving them in and out of me at a steady pace. My legs started shaking and I arched my back and placed my head on his chest. “Ah~” DogDay got rougher with my neck and started biting down a little hard, but not enough to hurt me.  

With one arm I wrapped it around his neck, digging my nails into his shoulder and with the other, clutching onto the cup. DogDay started moaning which only turned me on even more. As his movements got faster and faster, I started squeezing the cup in my hand a little too tight and next thing you know, I snapped it in half. 

Me and DogDay looked down at the sink and both sighed when we saw that I didn’t cut myself. “Haha, guess my Angel was enjoying herself.” He took his fingers out of me and picked me up. I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me up to our bedroom. “I hope you know Angel that once we reach our room my lips will be all over your body.” “Can’t wait~”  

Once we entered our room, he pushed me up against the wall and started kissing me passionately. I returned the kiss and moved my tongue against his lips asking for entry. Of course, he allowed my tongue inside his mouth and both our tongues became intertwined with one another. Both our breathing grew harder and so did the kiss. 

While still kissing each other he moved us onto the bed. Without looking I untied his sun pendant. DogDay placed it onto the nightstand and then started to raise my shirt up over my head. We broke away from the kiss, our saliva connected to each other's tongue. “You look absolutely sexy without a shirt on Angel. My god how I cannot get enough of your body.” “And you are just so fucking hot; with and without your pendant.”  

As DogDay looked down at me with my bra on he got this look in his eyes. “You know what Angel? I’ve suddenly become hungry.” That threw me off. “Oh? Um what did you want?” “You.” DogDay grabbed both of my wrists and moved them above my head. He reached over for his pendant and tied my wrists together with it. Oh fuck was this about to get intense. 

My chest moved up and down a little fast. I wasn’t expecting this at all! DogDay started kissing my neck and then slowly moved down my body. I couldn’t help but moan as his kisses felt so good on my body. Once DogDay kissed under my belly button he started moving my pants and underwear off of me.  

He tossed them onto the floor and licked his lips. “Ready Angel?” I nodded my head and closed my eyes, not knowing what to expect. He lowered his head in between my thighs and kissed the sides of them before moving into the center. There he kissed up and down my area before he started moving his tongue and eating me out. “Ah fuck~” I pulled on the restraints, needing to grab onto something.  

Within minutes my legs started shaking and I could feel a knot form in my stomach. “DogDay I’m-ah~” I couldn’t talk. He was eating me out good. So good in fact that he raised himself up, somehow getting deeper with the kiss. I draped my legs over his shoulders. This new angle was so good that I soon released and the knot in my stomach disappeared. “Holy fuck.” I was breathing hard. DogDay licked up what came out of me and gently lowered my body back onto the bed. “Delicious.” DogDay then lowered himself to my ear and said, “Now for my favorite part~” Ah yes ‘doggy style.’ I smiled and while still being restrained I managed to flip myself over. “Say goodbye to your legs Angel, because I’m going to pound into you so hard you’re going to need me to carry you everywhere after this~” 

--------------- 

“How was school today kiddo?” DogDay asked Damian as we all sat together for dinner. “It was really fun! It was field day and we got to play all these games, and then for lunch we had sandwiches, and they even gave us some cream pies to smash into the teacher's face. Most of them weren’t a fan of the taste.” “You know I had some cream pie the other day and it was delicious.” I covered my mouth so as not to spit out my drink. Damian looked at me with a confused look but then looked back to DogDay. “Really? When?” DogDay looked at me and smiled before saying, “When you went over to Sarahs house.” I could feel my face heat up. I know Damain has no clue what his dad really means but still! “Mom why didn’t you save me any? You know I love your pies.” “Yeah Angel.” DogDay laughed as he spoke. “Well, you see- um your dad was just very hungry that day and ate the whole thing, haha....” DogDay busted out laughing and Damian looked so confused. I looked over at DogDay and gave him a look that said, ‘I am going to kill you’ but he just stuck his tongue out at me. 

--------------- 

“Hello my beautiful Angel.” DogDay said as he came down the stairs. “Hello my love.” It was coming close to mine and DogDays anniversary, and I was going to get him back for the little stunt he pulled in front of Damian.  In my hand was a bag and I walked over to DogDay before he finished coming down the stairs. “When you go out today I need you to return this, it’s what I was going to wear for our anniversary.” DogDay took the bag from my hands and reached into the bag to see what it was. He pulled out the only item in the bag. “Nothing in here but lipstick.” I couldn’t help but grin as it took him a while to understand what I had meant. Once he realized his ears perked up and he looked at me with his jaw slightly open. I walked up a few steps to get eye level with him and said, “Suffer~” 

[duskier]

cw objectum (Ghost is dating his rifle and fucks it like he means it!)

Idk about yall I kind of just love pathetic freak Ghost who doesn't care. I feel like he loves his service rifle, carved a name into the lower receiver and called her that name genuinely, like she were a person. (Also called her she, confusing everyone on base for a minute, thinking he somehow finally got a girlfriend.)

He cuddles it in his sleep. He gets used to having the cold, hard metal to wrap his arms around, pulling it against his body. Fingers listless as they dip into the magwell lazily, absently as he drifts off to sleep with his cheekbone against the business end of his dear rifle. It smells like dirt and lead and like home for Ghost, and he needs it to sleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, aching hard and groggy, who else could he trust? The steady, immortal predictability of the rifle's buttstock pressing almost insistently against his own length is too good to resist. So what if he holds the gun steady by the handguard and rocks himself up against it. Hard biting edges giving Ghost the barest amount of pain, sending sparks flying through his core.

It's only a problem when it becomes a habit. Ghost comes home from a long mission, pent up as all hell. Feels like he'll either die or his balls will just fall off from lack of use. It's got him irritable as it's all he can think about. Every little thing that keeps him from beelining to his room needs to be destroyed. He left his gear- including his precious rifle- in the storage room. Not even put away, just leaned against the wall, shoved out of the walkway.

Getting back to his private quarters and not even making it to his bed, just slamming his door locked and gripping his cock over his pants. The gear he could ignore, Ghost doesn't even stop to remove his gloves. Just tugs out his cock and starts frantically chasing that release he's been aching for, the one that has been eluding and tormenting him the entire time.

...But he couldn't reach that goal post. It had become too much of a habit, he couldn't feel the comfort of his bed beneath him nor smell the oil he used to clean his rifle. It's all a blur, then, a miracle he had enough sense to tuck his cock back away as he storms back across base.

If Ghost had been scary before, he was beyond even comprehension now. Angry dark aura infecting the corners of every room he stalked past. Stalking back through the halls with his rifle slung around his shoulders, the familiar weight grounding him just a little.

He beds her like he would any lover. pulling her against him after he's stripped all his clothes off. He wants to feel her against him entirely. Groaning open mouthed at the relief that floods him pressing up against her. He flexes his hips, pushing even just a bit harder. It hurts but she needs to know.

"Can you feel how much I missed ya?" Had Ghost had his wits about him, he might have felt embarrassed for how tender and domesticated he sounded- especially towards his damned gun. "Well I know you was there love, but couldn't hold ya in front o'the lads, not like this a'least. They wouldn't get you like I do."

Rocking up against her insistently. Some fingers gripping the handguard like it's a lifeline, others dancing down her lower and fiddling with her mag release button. The way Ghost is feeling entirely raptured against her form, falling into the heavy daze of lust.

Groaning like a wild animal in a rut, chasing the now swiftly approaching light at the end of the tunnel, Ghost’s tongue flicks out. Licks the sweet bitter rim of the muzzle break. The cold metal still has slag on it, a rough texture that delights his sensitive tongue. He laps at it like it's a hole he's opening for himself, savors the taste as his mind slips slowly further out of his skull. All that's left in him is a need, a hunger.

He scratches his cheekbone on the muzzle when he hugs the rifle tight as he cums- metal and soot and spit and blood mingling together as it feels his body and soul are torn apart. He grunts and moans while his cock shoots rope after rope onto his girl, hips still thrusting weakly as he chases the last of his orgasm down.

[split-spectrum]

Heat Sick

Pairing: Obi Wan/FemReader

Length: 3.5K (One-off)

Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content - minors DNI. noncon elements including nonconsensual voyeurism, master/padawan kink, age gap (no ages expressly mentioned and no description of reader), power imbalance, masturbation, angst, guilt kink

Description: While on a mission with your master to uncover an assassination plot, you forget to turn off your security cam. Obi Wan sees more than he's ready to confront, and feels more than he's ready to withstand.

☆☆☆

"We will discuss this later."

"Master, can we not trade one more day of the war for this? Just one day?"

Obi Wan lets his eyes widen as he turns to face you in disbelief. "Young one, the decision is not ours to make. The sooner you learn that and make peace with it, the better."

"Perhaps I could stay behind. Just me. I could ask the council-"

He nods to the ambassador and stands, lowering his tone to you as the rest of the room leaves. "You will pack your things, and we will be on our way tomorrow."

As you follow him down the hall to your respective rooms, Obi Wan makes a concerted effort to keep his shoulders low and his pace steady. Letting his irritation show would do no good for either of you.

No - he thinks - not quite irritation. It stings more than that.

You've been ready for the trials for some time, and the only thing keeping you from completing them is your overloaded schedule of assignments. You aren't yet a knight, though you both know that you likely would be, if not for the war.

But until then, where he goes, you go. And to defy that - to defy him by contacting the council for reassignment... he'd never expected you to go so far.

"Forgive me, Master," you mumble behind him, clearly not sorry. "I- I just want to help these people, and it doesn't seem like anyone besides me can see the extent of their issues."

Obi Wan suppresses any semblance of feelings, turning to face you when he reaches his door. "Perhaps that is true. Let us... let us agree that it is. What then? Are you prepared to stay here indefinitely?"

You fall silent, gazing up at him with those blasted, soulful eyes of yours. Those eyes can simply bowl him over whenever you please. It just isn't fair.

He sighs. "The council sent us here to uncover the assassination plot against the Toydarian king, and we have done our duty. We could spend a lifetime on any planet if we concerned ourselves with internal politics."

"This isn't just internal politics," you insist. "Another attempt on the king's life is almost inevitable, because we haven't rooted out the underlying problems."

Your face is so solemn, he has to force himself to take a beat before answering too flippantly. "Let us hope it happens in the distant future."

"Master, I'm being serious."

"As am I, Padawan." He hits the last word with a little more emphasis than needed. "As I have told you time and time again, we must learn to choose our battles. We have won the day. Now we must move on to where we are needed most."

Your brows pinch tight. "And I suppose we just hope the Toydarians can last until the end of the war without falling into a civil war of their own."

"Indeed, let us both hope so."

You'd clearly expected another answer; had wanted a longer argument. Your mouth falls open in indigance, but nothing comes out.

You turn and stalk away, and Obi Wan heaves another sigh as he enters his temporary quarters. There is nothing he can do to make you see reason when you're like this. The only thing he can give you is time.

Which is why a few hours later, your knock at the door is expected, but still welcome.

"Master?"

Obi Wan ends his meditation and answers the door, finding you standing rigidly behind it, clearly making an effort to keep eye contact.

"Come in," he ushers you, stepping to the side.

You look at the floor, then back to him as you enter. Your voice is soft and low. "I... wanted to apologize for my behavior... earlier."

Obi Wan lifts his eyebrows, but holds back his words, for now. He's already forgiven you, perhaps too quickly. Perhaps you know that.

"I just feel so... frustrated lately, with all these short, temporary assignments. It doesn't feel like we're making a difference at all."

He nods, gesturing for you to join him in sitting on the end of his bed. "I understand your need to help others. But we must not allow our fleeting feelings to blind us to the greater picture. We are a part of an order. You must never forget that."

Your stare is fixed on your lap, and you nod. "I know. I know."

"Letting go in order to focus on the greater good is not always an easy thing. But you will learn." He allows a small smile. "I have faith."

Your eyes sparkle when you finally look back up at him, and Obi Wan swallows, forcing himself to keep his smile in place before he looks away. It stirs something within him when you hold him in your gaze like that, as if he'd hung the stars themselves. Reminds him why it is best that you complete your trials and leave his side.

"I'm... sorry I mentioned a reassignment. I wasn't thinking clearly. My place is with you, Master. I don't want to be anywhere else."

Your earnestness sends a little wave of warmth through him, and Obi Wan quickly tamps it down, reaching for your clasped hands on your lap. He pats your hand gently. "I... appreciate that very much. But your place will not be here much longer."

You give him a wry little smile. "That's true. I suppose I should use my opportunities to disobey you sparingly, or you may not speak to me anymore after I'm knighted."

He returns your smile. "You won't be rid of me so easily. Not when I'm expected to use the new graphic software for mission reports."

He enjoys the way your lightened gaze slides over to him, lips splitting into a full grin. He knew that would get a rise out of you - you hate it when he asks you to help him with his datapad.

"On second thought, maybe I should transfer to a new quadrant as soon as possible."

Obi Wan laughs again, patting your leg this time. His big hand rests on your thigh a little longer than it should, and he draws it back, clearing his throat.

"I..." Your softened voice fills the silence. "I suppose I'll also need to get used to calling you Obi Wan."

Hearing his name in your mouth sends another little ripple of warmth just where it shouldn't be - right between his ribs. He steadies his thoughts.

"Let's agree to hold off until the trials, shall we?"

He hopes you hear it as a brush-off; a simple reassertion of your relationship, and that you don't hear the way his voice is pulled tight.

You grant him mercy, standing to face him again. "As you wish, Master," you answer. "Thank you for accepting my apology."

Obi Wan shakes his head. "There is nothing to forgive. Caring for those around you is no weakness. Now, get some rest."

You bow your head respectfully as he sends you on your way, and Obi Wan closes the door behind you. He rests his palm flat against the cool durasteel of the closed door, standing still for a moment.

The way his words no longer come easily in your presence, he knows he should be pushing you toward the trials as quickly as he can.

But that's another issue, for another day. Right now, he should be taking his own advice and getting some rest.

He crosses the room, removing his outer robe and hanging it in a nearby closet. Finding the light control panel and clicking off the remaining lights, he turns to look back at his bed and frowns. There's still light emanating from a small screen at his bedside. Then he watches as the image of you moves across the screen.

Oh. Right. The security cams.

Each of your rooms had been equipped with them when you'd moved into the palace a week ago. It's a closed circuit, meaning that you can only view one another. There had been some other channels available, including the king's chamber and other important locations. Those have been shut off since the investigation concluded. The cams in each of your rooms were only meant to be used when you were gone, to secure your living quarters when you weren't using them. Evidently, you'd forgotten to turn yours off - probably because you'd come back to your quarters in such a huff earlier.

Obi Wan walks over to the screen, ready to shut it off, but finds himself standing there, lingering. Hand at the ready, but never quite pressing the button.

You shrug out of your heavy outer robe and hang it over the back of a chair, your movements graceful and slow. Bracelets slide from your wrist down your forearm, and although there's no sound with the image, he can practically hear the way they jangle together. Those blasted pieces of jewelry - he's told you a thousand times not to wear them, but you keep them tucked under the sleeve of your robe anyway. Probably stuffed into the fabric so they don't make a sound.

His hand comes back to his side, watching as you admire them while taking each one off. They aren't practical. They could catch on something during a fight. But they'd been given to you by a friend, and you'd stubbornly held onto them. And if he's being honest, they are beautiful.

Beautiful.

The word hangs in his mind.

He clears his throat, refocusing on the idea that he should work to accept that there are some things he was able to train out of you, and some things that remain a part of who you are. Now that you're moving on, no longer his padawan, he needs to force himself to view you differently.

He watches as you put away your bracelets, packing them with the rest of your clothing. After another moment, he lifts a hand to the button again. Any longer and he'll be infringing on your privacy. He just... wanted to take a moment to reminisce.

He continues to reminisce while you're bending down to roll out your night clothes, and he can see down the front of your-

Click.

His breathing is unsteady.

The blank, darkened screen stares back at him. Every one of his nerve endings feels like they've been dipped in molten lava.

He's never done anything so improper.

You are his padawan. 

His padawan. He leans into the word, branding it into his mind, with all that it encompasses. All the expectations and the prohibitions. All the sleepless nights and grueling days he's spent committing himself to you; to do right by you.

He's let this thing, this fascination, fester within him for far too long. Lingering looks, over time, have become a habit. And just now, the habit has been unspooled in front of him, spilling out like thread from a cut cloth. He'd never realized it had become this much a part of him. Not until just now, when his gaze didn't have to turn away. When it could run rampant with no consequences.

It fills him with a sort of dread. As if his feet are on a path he knows he can't turn from. No, indeed - he's already on it. Just by not moving from this spot in front of the screen, he's already taken the first steps.

He feels like every muscle in his body is taught, ready to snap. This moment could be so easy to resist, if he knew it would happen again. If this weren't the one time he would ever, ever have the chance to see you - really see you, without hiding his desire. Without the chance of you knowing. Without the need to control himself.

Click.

You've taken off your tunic, spreading it flat to roll it up. All you're wearing are your leggings and a thin undershirt that wraps tightly around your stomach and hangs loosely at the top. When you bend to roll the tunic up, his eyes are unable to tear away from the screen. The dark crevice where your shirt falls open draws him in, dangerously close to revealing more. His eyes are fixated on it. Pleading for it to spare him and stay in place. Pleading for it to slip.

He drinks in the features of your face. Your relaxed expression. The curve of your jaw. The length of your neck.

How many times has he imagined it - brushing a knuckle along the nape of your neck, just to feel your warmth. The thrill that would run through him as you might look up at him with wide, confused eyes. A shudder runs through him, filling him with unwelcome heat.

He's been on enough desert planets to experience heat sickness. The way it courses through the body in nauseating waves. Making him jittery, uneasy. Shaking with the feeling of wanting to burst, yet knowing there's nothing he can do to fight it. He could not beg the suns for mercy. The only thing he could do was let the sickness crawl through his veins, poisoning him slowly until he lost all sense. And hope he could come back to himself when it was all over.

You finish folding and turn around to unclasp the front of your leggings.

Obi Wan sits, the soft edge of his bed catching him.

He can feel his heartbeat in his throat as you seem to take an eternity to slowly slide the pants over the curve of your ass, exposing skin he's never seen before. Even in the smallest of your training clothes, he's never seen the full, soft cheeks of your ass on display like this. He sucks in a breath, eyes dancing over every inch.

You step out of the leggings, bending at the knees to pick them up, and he watches the arch of your back, the sway of your hips. When you put away your leggings, he considers it a blessing that you're behind a table, yet still feels the pull of frustration - waiting, waiting, waiting for you to step back into view.

When at last you do, your hands slip down to your sides and you turn to face the cam again, showing him the smooth skin of your stomach as your shirt lifts up.

"Stars, help me," Obi Wan whispers, unblinking.

But you're walking back and forth as you undress, and at the moment his breath hitches, you turn away again, and he sees nothing but your back. You stride across the room, completely at ease, and just as you enter the doorframe of the refresher next to your room, your fingers lazily slip under the waistband of some sort of obscenely delicate fabric, peeling your underwear down your body.

Obi Wan has to stifle a soft moan, imagining his own larger, rougher hands in place of yours, dragging the lacey thing down your legs to the floor.

You step out of them, and at a distance that's quite blurry, he can just see the soft bounce of your breasts from the side. His mouth is slackened, watching you walk away from the cam and into the next room.

His chest is tight. He shifts uncomfortably in the bed to reposition. He can feel the thrum of his own flushed face, can feel his pulse between his legs.

When you come out of the other room, you're clothed - just barely. You've put on a silky little slip. It's practically see-through. It might be worse than seeing you with no clothes at all. The slip itself is almost painfully innocent. No lace or adornments. A simple, soft garment worn for your comfort in bed. Nothing more.

The idea sends another shameful jolt through him, at watching you like this. Then he catches sight of the small pod in your hand. When you draw up one of your legs onto the bed and take off the lid of the pod to swipe your fingers through it, he realizes that it's a salve or lotion of some sort. A new level of agony overtakes him as you slide the lotion over your leg, rubbing in soft circles over your skin. Each time you lean forward to rub another circle, your slip rides up to show a teasing glimpse of your ass.

Obi Wan follows your every movement, feeling his gaze go glassy, heavy, and lost. The ache throbbing between his legs seems to thrum in time with your entrancing, repetitive movements. You start on the other leg, and when you bend forward this time, he groans into his fist, seeing even more.

Almost absently, he palms down his straining erection through his clothes. His eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and then snap open again to watch as you drop your leg, smoothing the lotion over your arms and neck, then sliding your hands around your breasts. You may as well be wearing nothing, the way he can see your fingers working beneath the fabric, squeezing the soft skin and teasing delicately over your own nipples.

His lower lip juts forward when his mouth falls open, and Obi Wan bares his teeth as if that will help him. As if the futile gesture of his struggle will somehow stop the way his hand is rubbing himself. As if it will keep him from tearing his off clothes as he watches you touch yourself.

Your hands slowly work their way down to your stomach, then down the lengths of each of your arms, and you finally put the lotion away. You dim the lights, but the picture is still fortunately - cursedly - clear enough that he can see every curve of your body as you climb into bed. You pull back the covers, and Obi Wan's palm presses hard into his lap and stills.

"Oh, darling, no..." he murmurs as you crawl forward, giving him a clear view of your perfect, glistening center. You're a little wet, and he feels himself losing a small piece of his sanity trying to imagine why you might be.

Once you're in bed, lying on your side, the light from the next room bathes your face in an ethereal glow so that he can see your every expression clearly, though your body is a little shrouded by the blankets piled at your feet.

He can, however, with the way you're angled, see right between your legs.

Hands trembling, he unceremoniously yanks down his pants to wrap a palm around himself, letting out a short gasp at the relief.

Your perfect pussy, bared just for him. He curses under his breath as he drinks in the sight of you, knowing he'll only last a few moments and squeezing himself, trying to draw out the moments as long as possible.

Obi Wan's heated gaze ratchets upward when he notices you yawn - soft, sweet and pure.

Entranced by the way your lower lip is hanging open, he imagines what it would feel like to shove two fingers into your warm, wet mouth. The image makes his cock twitch in his hand, and he imagines that going in next.

He admits it - he wishes he were there with you. Right now. Standing over your bed and looking into your big, luminous, trusting, tear-blurred eyes and shoving his cock into your lovely little mouth.

He wants to run a finger along the folds of your pussy until you soak his hand, and then he wants to ease your legs apart and tease circles around your swollen clit until you're babbling with pleasure. He wants you in every way. Stars save him - he wants to fuck you.

The thought makes him grunt low in his throat, and he tightens his grip. He's disgusted with himself, grinding into his own fist as if he could wring the very thought out of his body.

His padawan, bent over her bed, legs spread for him. His heavy palms on her waist, holding her perfect body, her skin too young and smooth for his calloused hands. Her pussy engulfing his dick, making him cry out her name with every thrust.

With every harsh tug of his pulsing, drooling cock, he's more damned. But he can't stop. Can't think of anything but you. His whole mind - his whole being - is concentrated on nothing but you, and how much he wants to paint your stomach, your face, your cunt with the cum that's about to shoot all over his hand.

He watches as you roll to your other side, tits nearly spilling out of your bedclothes, and imagines the way they would feel under his hands. The way you would bounce under your clothes as he ravaged you, coating his dick in your slippery, soft, innocent little cunt, taking absolutely everything he'd ever wanted.

And Obi Wan explodes, trying to block what he can, but failing miserably and covering his hand and the screen with ropes of hot, white mess. He chokes back a groan, forcing himself not to wake half the palace and grunts quietly into the arm of his tunic as he finishes soaking the bed and himself in his own seed.

He pants, watching the mess dripping over your warm, clean, clothed form on the screen. His mouth is hanging open, and he closes it to swallow.

Your eyes are shut, expression peaceful. You've fallen asleep.

He's shaking and sweating, staring at your beautiful face when the shame overcomes him.

The worst thing about heat sickness - once it takes you, even if you slake your thirst, even if you cool your brow, even if your pulse stops pounding for the moment - it will inevitably happen again. 

--

A/N: Shoutout to @slinkygail who kindly encouraged me to work on my WIPs! 💜

And thank you as always to everyone who reads. Hope you liked this one-off. :) It's been bouncing around my drafts for a while. A situation I don't believe for one second that Obi Wan would actually find himself in, but was absolutely necessary to indulge myself.

[sweetfushi]

fluff, some angst | satoru gojo x reader.

vampire!satoru whose ears perk at the sound of the large doors of his castle creaking open. he hasn’t had visitors in years - centuries. who has now breached his sanctuary, is the question he asks you. you, who stand in the middle of his entrance hall with an anxious yet gullibly curious expression on your face.

vampire!satoru whose brow furrows at the sight of such a meek mortal staring him in the face. you ask him to feed you the knowledge he holds of countless decades that have passed, whether it be about medicine, society, or pure legend. satoru quirks his brow at this; your tone sounds as if you are demanding this of him, not asking.

vampire!satoru who appears in front of you in an instant, wrapped in a dark cloak that reaches his shoes. his hands remain behind his back, under his cloak, as he circles you and questions why he should do such a thing. “i know who you are, what you are. what is the purpose of your immortality if not to share your experiences?” you tell him.

vampire!satoru who, rather reluctantly, allows you to scour his endless libraries. he’s slightly bothered that he now must provide food for someone, as he himself does not eat. though he himself does not cook, his servants do. no, he doesn’t refer to them as servants. his companions.

vampire!satoru who, hears you knock on the door of his study only to enter without being permitted to. you take the chair diagonal to him and place the thick book you’ve been reading on your lap, before hurriedly turning to a specific page. you ask him about the book and listen intently to his comprehensive responses.

vampire!satoru who, at some point, finds himself looking forward to you interrupting him in his study, even when he's sleeping at his desk or reading his favourite book. he becomes hungry for your curiosity and indulgence in information only he can provide you.

vampire!satoru who falls so deeply in love with you that he makes you his wife but spares you the curse of immortality by not turning you into a vampire. though he wishes to keep you by his side forever, he cannot bare to have you fall into the darkness that is vampirism.

vampire!satoru who kisses you so deeply, a hand always steadying you against his larger frame as he feels you shiver when his fangs graze your soft lips. you can barely keep up with his desire and the way his fingers press so firmly into you, as if he's terrified of losing you (because he is, he just doesn't want you to know that and worry yourself).

vampire!satoru who assigns you a personal companion who tends to your every need - food, drink, comfort, guidance around the castle that you have still yet to memorise the rooms of. despite this companion, you still seek satoru's presence the most, even for the smallest of things.

vampire!satoru who doesn't know how he would have happily continued living in solitude if you hadn't stormed into his castle and demanded that he indulged you. satoru would change a lot of his past choices, but in every life would he admit you into his castle and allow you to replace it as his sanctuary.

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[darling-answers]

Breaking the bed/ Desk during Sex Talon Edition.

CLEARLY AS YOU SEE IN THE TITLE! NO MINORS ARE ALLOWED, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BLOGS THAT ARE CLEARLY 18+

Don’t interact, try to send in request or even try to justify your being in my 18+ blogs I don’t wanna hear them nor you should be respecting my rules as I have just as good fanfic that aren’t 18+ go read those ones.

There not really like huge Warnings that are icky but some warning includes,

Praising, degrading, Mommy Kink, obviously talon being talon, AFAB reader, Some have you as the wife some are girlfriend, no reader is really invert, Akande has a more You POV and not the character pov, Boob Kink.

I promise if you send in a request I will try to get to you when I feel absolutely motivated and have inspiration to write yours.

Please please show me love and support I appreciate your guys kindness and even just sharing or reblogging goes a long way!

OVERWATCH continues here!

Reaper

Coming back from a Mission just trying to enjoy his Wife company with his new found sex drive, Moira Experiments recently made his Sex drive go sky rocket. It has been a couple of weeks since he had his own wife pussy sheath on his cock, not waiting to fill in the report to Akande. He instantly heads for his living quarters with his wife, luckily living in the talon base all other agents will do there own thing and leave him to spend quality time with his beautiful sexy wife of 13 years.

The music coming from a room deep inside the huge living quarters notify Gabriel this his wife was home and she was not notified that Gabriel was home, the moment the door slam open a yell was let out, there in all her glory the one person his cock been aching to be in contact with, his beautiful wife. His tent was showing through his pants as she didn’t even hide the obvious fact he was horny for some nice warm pussy. Unbuckling the belt she gently grabbed his wife hair by the hilt and guided her body over to the bed. Shoving her face into the pillow before she could even great him, he pulled her dress up. “ No underwear, what a slut of a woman you are, do you just walk around Talon Base showing off your cuny to whoever that desperate to look at a whore.”

Dragging his cock through his wife folds, he slowly spread her lips spitting at the sweet cunt that is so deliciously slick. He gently poke his cock through her hole, coming to sheath himself fully inside, slowly coming to pull out of her and slam harder into her. Grunts come tumbling out of his mouth as he lets out a hard sigh, he gains speed as moaning and whines follow out of his wife, holding onto the headboard the bed lets out a whole bunch of squeaks before a loud crash follows out, startling his wife cause a loud scream and the muscles of her body tenses

“Fuck! your tight!” His Teeth grits as he let out a grunt, coming to slowly rub at his wife hips, “ Easy, baby, easy your alright, fuck me it scared you didn’t you, I’m sorry I guess I went to hard, don’t worry you did nothing wrong.” He pulls out, his cock is still rock hard as he comes to turn his wife around and rub at her stomach massaging the muscles that were strain. He puts his dick back in his boxers as he lays right next to his obvious scared wife who clearly was startled by the bed breaking

Her heart is racing as Gabriel comes to slowly rub at his wife body laying passionate kisses and firm hands to steady his wife. “ I’m so sorry again I didn’t mean to cause you to worry about me.” You did nothing wrong, you the most amazing and important person ever, thank you for all you do when I go, don’t worry about sex we can always do it later.”

Sombra

“Oh mi corderito que estas tratando de hacerme, estas tratando de poner a prueba mi paciencia no sabia que podias ser tan travieso dejame verte, desnudate para mi." She let out a growl and a purr, disappearing from view coming up behind her girlfriend, as her girlfriend lifts up her shirt cold gloves come up to gently pull and push, swirling her girlfriends nipples coming up to gently push her girlfriend skirt letting her purple underwear be hooked underneath the hacker nails, stripping her off her underwear she comes to gently play with her girlfriend folds while messing with her boobs, “ Nena sabes cuanto me gusta jugar contigo, jugar con estas chicas grandes, deberías saber que no puedo evitar querer tocarte a ti y a esta cosa bonita de aquí abajo. “

coming to swirl her clit around she kissing her neck as she bends her girlfriend over her desk, were credit card information and the latest political stunt she found from hacking for the fun of it, “ Let me make you a Mami, let these tits filled with milk as you take such good care of our baby, she has your eye, and my skin tone, please let me cum inside you.” For the first time Olivia, not Sombra, whimper as she slowly finger her girlfriend swirling her fingers inside the wet cunt of her girlfriends, “ just let go, don’t you dare keep it from me.” Sombra grunts out rocking back in forth between shoving her fingers over and over inside her girlfriend cunt, slowly hitting that spot that causing stars to shift in her girlfriend eyes, blurry eyes and vision, Sombra whimper as she shoved her hips into her girlfriend causing the desk to slowly break from under them making both of them slam into the floor, poor computer cracked but not broken, on the screen data slowly sent to all of talon high member phone. “ Olivia my, hips hurt now! I can’t feel my legs!”

She whimpers as she turns her head to look at her girlfriend who is smirking, head prop up from her elbow. “ we should do that again. Maybe instead of doing it in our room, we could have fun and use The Laboratory.” “ isn’t that M-Moira O’Deorain practical living place, she has never come out of the laboratory unless she has a mission, wouldn’t that make her mad?” “ she can piss off she already made me mad what fun would it be to get revenge!���

Sigma

don’t you even dare try to touch my baby, 😒 I love him so lemme give him some platonic affection and energy this is him breaking something but this is all just platonic.

“ Boo! I got you!.” Sigma wife shouted as she raised her hands, causing her husband who was deep in thought about the ants and fairies. The stuff around them started floating as she let out a little snort realizing that her husband was not in control with his gravity as his hand shook as he let out more stressful mumbles as he frantically moved around not noticing his wife casually floating as she gently pushed her hair down that keep coming up and higher till it couldn’t pull up anymore.

“ Mr Kruiper it time for you to come back to me now.” She a soft smile fills her face as she felt her husband look at her, “ I- I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me.” She felt Sigma slowly moved towards her and flat her hair that kept moving up, she was slowly pulled to the floor as object smash into the ground around them causing a groan from a passing high officer of talon, “ you did nothing wrong Bebe, let just clean up this mess together.” She mumbles as a sweet tone is filled within seibren brain as he happily giggles and start cleaning up the mess around them with his gravity, “ I’m so sorry for scaring you hun I never intended to you be to far in that headspace.” “ it alright you love me and I know that :D.”

Widowmaker

The feeling of a spider crawling into the nest that laid the innocent creature who was the center of attention. That was the feeling that both Lacroix, no widowmaker, and her innocent girlfriend bound by. No one would be breaking the web that Lacroix made for her girlfriend, not even Moira would have her hands near it,

“ Stay still for Maman a besoin que tu te détendes, tu es trop dans ta tête. Laisse-toi aller pour maman, n'essaie pas de lutter, nous y voilà, oui bébé, tu te sens si bien et si serré pour maman" Lacroix mumbled as she gently push you to ride her, bringing your hips to go down and up, trying to ride her without her guidance would be to hard for the small headspace your overdriven into. Coming to gently hold onto Lacroix breast squishing and gently push it and rubbed it, bouncing her hip up and down she let out a whine and a moan as she leaned in to kiss her Maman, “ Mummy! Mummy please, oh god oh god!” She tighten the hold of her grip on her maman breast as her cunt tighten on the strap that Widowmaker kept bouncing her on, cum started to drip all over the strap as a loud break and crash hit the couple as Lacroix let out a big sigh keeping the tight grip onto her girlfriend,

Il est temps de trouver un nouveau lit, non seulement tu m'as chevauché jusqu'à ce que notre lit soit littéralement cassé, mais maintenant le lit est tellement dangereux que nous ne pouvons pas dormir dessus." She mumbles as she come to squeeze her girlfriend butt as she gently lifted her girlfriend off the big purple strap, cum lays onto the French women lap as Lacroix gently pat her girlfriend hair coming up to gently pull a blanket over her body and pull her into another spare room of the apartment, “ this is vexing but we will make do with it until I can get a new bed for us, this time let not have you break it.” She mumbles shyly as she gently picked her girlfriend up placing her on the bed to come over and give her girlfriend as much care as she could give to someone.

Moira

“ oh, how pitiful you must be, coming to me to satisfied your urges, acting like a newborn fawn wanting there Mummy, if you really are that pitiful then me rejecting you should cause you no harm, you can whine and whimper but that will not change my mind, I have work to do go bother some other soul.” Moira let out a tisk going back to doing her latest experiment completely ignoring her wife that was horny and being difficult, normally if her wife said she had things to do she would pout and just let it go until later on, but no, she was needy and not even The Scientific Community would grasp her away from her wife. Moira let out a grunt went hands come to find her waist tugging her away from her excitement, cold slinder hands slowly come to grab around the hair of Moira wife. “ you can’t even control yourself, how can you live knowing that you will do anything to satisfy your urges, does dignity not matter to you?”

She comes to sit down in her office chair picking her wife up by the arms and laying her over her manspread legs, her butt high in the air, Moira landed spank after spank onto her wife butt as muffled wailing was heard coming from the laboratory, flipping her wife over she comes to swaddle her wife like a new born baby, gently opening up her coat letting sucking filled the laboratory, “ you do understand that your little breaks you make me take causing us to waste time with the scientific process that I have dedicated decades to. It not that I don’t appreciate you but you should learn that greedy will only get you so far.” Moira mumbles brushes few strands out of her wife hair as she suckles on her breast, gently lifting up her wife she puts her on the table after

Shooing the lab papers away from the table having them fall to the ground, removing her lab coat as her button up shirt was let open, she slowly unbuckle her pants grabbing her strap throwing lube on it from in the draw ( she doesn’t just use lube for sex, but other expirements.) She gently started rocking into her Wife, coming to slammed deep inside her over and over, her red hair getting in the way of some part of her vision as all she can see is the sweet delicious feeling of her wife cunts deeply nestled into her strap, almost like it was made for her. She lets out a hum as she racked her nails across her wide body as she comes to gently push a little to far into the table causing one of the legs of the table to get out. She stops and looks over at the broken table leg and just hums out a “ what if I test the theory of how much this table pressure can handle before it falls out? Maybe I can make use of this.”

Akande

( it wouldn’t let me add one more photo in so now I have to make do with what I have.)

“ we need to be more careful this bed can not hold on any longer then we have already went through.” he mumbled as he gripped your hand in between his face slowly coming to get in between your neck and shoulder. Letting out smooth kisses onto your neck all the way up until your lips he slowly pushed in further as his hips connected to your pelvic bone a big noticeable bump for throughout your tummy, a whine was it out of your lips as you felt Akande bring your hands down to your stomach so that you could feel how deep he was inside of you, his big hands fit with yours as he brings it back up over yours head restraining you from moving any further than where you were. He let you chuckle. as he starts seeing the bruising, that was there last time, you guys had sex slowly start forming again. Becoming big red spots to Light bruising.

“ you do know I do not have all day to entertain your thought. Well I do appreciate you and this amazing pussy. I have other… Negotiables to attend to so I cannot stay longer than I wish to. You will see me tonight and tonight will be an even better night than what it is now just you wait.” He mumbled into your ear as his big hand coming to hold onto the headboard cause it to snap into pieces of sheer strength, he let out a sigh as it has already happened before, as he slowly move some pieces of wood out of your hair.

We will need to buy a bigger bed. Soon we have already had to thrown away the others because of it, contact my company and see if we can get a new bed as soon as possible for now we will have to sleep in this spare bedroom, I apologize my love.” taking the hands of his lover, he slowly lifted her up with one arm, coming to gently have her in the bathtubs making sure to let out smooth bubbly water come to wash away her aching muscles as he mumbled something about the fact he didn’t get to cum and neither do you, but the safety of yours was more of a priority than anything.

[berryblosom]

DANGEROUSLY IN LOVE ᯓᡣ𐭩

S: Fem!reader x Nanami Kento, where Nanami has a crush on you but he’s also your boss.

Nanami sat at his desk, the warm afternoon light casting long shadows across the organized stacks of paperwork. His gaze lingered on the glass wall that separated his office from the rest of the floor, specifically on one person. You, his diligent and cheerful employee, was working at your desk, completely unaware of the fluttering emotions stirring in his chest. You’re hair styled to perfection, lips he wanted to kiss so bad were coloured in his favourite of your lipsticks and the way you’d steal glances into his office with a slight smile.

Nanami was not a man who easily succumbed to whims or distractions. He prided himself on his professionalism and his dedication to his work. But you had a way of breaking through all of that with your bright smile, infectious laugh, and the way you approached every task with unwavering enthusiasm.

This afternoon, the office was quieter than usual, the soft hum of computers and the occasional rustling of papers the only sounds. Nanami’s thoughts, however, were anything but quiet. He sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, trying to focus on the report in front of him.

Suddenly, there was a knock at his door. Nanami straightened in his chair, clearing his throat. “Come in,” he called, his voice steady and composed.

The door opened, and there you were holding a stack of papers. “Mr Nanami, I have the updated reports you wanted.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Kento replied, his tone professional. “Please, set them on my desk.”

As you did, you looked at him with those big, curious eyes. Your lashes, something he would never notice on anyone else fluttered perfectly against your cheekbones. “Is there anything else you need help with, sir?”

For a moment, Nanami considered saying something, anything that would allow him to keep you in his office a bit longer. But he quickly let go of the thought. It wasn’t appropriate. He was your boss, after all. “No, that will be all for now. Thank you, Y/N.”

You nodded and turned to leave, but paused at the door. “Mr. Nanami, would you like to join us for coffee after work? A few of us are going to the café down the street.”

Nanami was taken aback by the invitation. He rarely participated in after-work activities, preferring to keep his personal and professional lives separate. But the hopeful look in your eyes made him reconsider. “I appreciate the offer, Y/N, but I have some reports to finish tonight.”

Your face fell slightly, but you smiled nonetheless. “Alright, maybe another time then. Have a good evening, sir.”

As the door closed behind you, Kento let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He couldn’t deny the pang of disappointment that washed over him. He wanted to join the team, to see you outside of the walls of the office, but his sense of propriety always held him back

As he worked late into the night, Nanami found himself unable to concentrate. His thoughts kept drifting back to you. The way you laughed with your colleagues, the way you try and include him in what you do, the way she made him feel alive, hopeful, and terrified all at once.

Days turned into weeks, and Nanami continued to struggle with his feelings for you. He kept his distance, maintaining a strict grip on his demeanor, but inside, he was a whirlwind of emotions. One evening, as he was packing up to leave, he found you still at your desk, looking tired but still hard at work.

“Y/N,” he called, walking over to you. “You should go home. It’s late.”

You looked up, startled, eyes wide. “Oh, Mr. Nanami, I didn’t realize the time. I just wanted to finish this last project report.”

Nanami softened, seeing the exhaustion in your eyes. “You’ve done enough for today. Go and rest. The report can wait until tomorrow.”

You smiled, gathering your things. “Thank you, sir. Goodnight.”

As he watched you get up, Nanami made a decision. He couldn’t keep his feelings bottled up any longer. You took up all his thoughts, you were the only one he looked at. He couldn’t come to work every day ignoring his feelings.

“Y/N, wait a minute” Nanami began, his heart pounding. “I need to speak with you about something important.”

You sat back down, eyes wide with anticipation. Nanami took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I want to be honest with you. Over the past few months, I’ve come to realize that I have feelings for you. I understand that this is highly unprofessional, and I apologize if this makes you uncomfortable, but I just thought you should know.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, but you didn’t interrupt, waiting for what he would say next

“I have tried to keep my feelings to myself.” he continued, “but it’s become increasingly difficult. I don’t want to make you feel pressured in any way. If you feel that this affects our professional relationship, I will respect your decision and take any necessary steps to address it.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then you spoke, your voice soft and sincere. “Mr. Nanami…Kento I’m glad you told me. Because, honestly, I’ve had feelings for you too. I just never thought you’d feel the same way.”

Kento’s heart soared, practically beating out of his chest but he kept his composure. “I want to do this the right way, Y/N. We need to ensure that our work remains unaffected and that we maintain professionalism in the office. But outside of work… I’d like to get to know you better, if you’re open to that.”

Your smile was radiant. “I’d like that very much.”

[eideticmemory]

WILDEST DREAMS | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

While directing a new film, Matthew becomes infatuated with you, the lead actress, and he’s having a hard time not making it obvious.

Word Count: 4k.

Warning/Includes: Age gap, pining, smut.

The best thing to do is be casual. Calm, collected, cool. You’re not doing anything wrong. In fact, you’re not really doing anything at all. It’s all in the walk - slow, steady strides - you don’t want to look too eager. Keep your head up high, only glance down for a moment at a time, keep your hands busy.

Play the part.

As your knuckles lightly rasp on the trailer door, you look around, fanning yourself with the stack of paper in your hand. When you turn back around, Matthew is opening the door and this grand, bright smile stretches across his entire face the moment he sees you.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” you grin, tilting your head. “Wanted to go over something in the script with you. Do you have a second?”

Only taking a beief moment to look around the barren lot, Matthews eyes fall back on you, and there’s a certain spark in them as he says, “Of course. Of course, come in.”

“Thanks,” you tell him as you step inside.

And then the door is locked and the script is on the floor and you’re straddling his lap, your mouth open so he can stick his tongue inside of it. Your fingers tangle themselves in his curls, your nails scratching his scalp. He makes this soft purring noise, but his hold on your waist is tight, his nails digging through the fabric of your shirt and into your skin. With a roll of your hips, he’s left gasping for air and his hands begin to wander, trailing from your waist to your thigh. His fingertips creep towards the apex of your hips and you tighten them around his waist. It’s at this point that you grab onto his wrists and you’re well aware that he doesn’t have to let you pin them behind his head, he could easily stop you. If he wanted to. He doesn’t. He wants to do absolutely whatever you want.

Matthew’s head rolls back and you take the opportunity to plant gentle kisses on his neck. He wonders if you know how much friction you’re creating between your bodies, but then he feels your nails sink into the skin on his wrist, the vibration of a quiet moan against his neck, and he knows the answer. He has the impulse to touch you, but he’s weak underneath your body and he goes limp as your tongue traces his jaw.

“God, you’re killing me,” he mumbles.

You giggle, the sound echoing in his ear before you kiss his cheek, “So dramatic.”

“I’ll do anything,” he begs, and his breath catches in his throat, your nose nuzzled against his.

“Mhm...”

“Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Anything.”

Looking into his eyes, you slowly release your grip on his wrists and place your hands on his face, “Just kiss me,” you whisper. His arms wrap back around your waist and he does. He just kisses you.

By the end, when you’ve hopped off of his lap and begun applying your lipgloss, he’s watching you in a daze. His eyes scan over you from head to toe and it raises goosebumps on your skin.

“[y/n],” he calls.

“Mm-hmm?” you hum, checking your reflection.

“You know, I’m kinda in love with you, right?”

You burst into laughter and roll your eyes, “L. O. L.”

“Why is that funny?”

“You’re hilarious.”

“I’m so dead serious. We-we could do stuff.”

“Stuff? What kinda stuff?”

“Like,” he shrugs. “Maybe a little dating, a little marriage, some kids…something like that, I don’t know.”

“Mmm, but how would that look?” you ask, tilting your head at him.

“What do you mean?”

“It would look like I submitted my cooch as an audition tape and I didn’t. I dont want people to think this was a hand out. I earned it, right?”

“Of course,” he rises to his feet and steps towards you, “Of course. I would never-never wanna take away from that, I just-“

“And it’s the whole thing of it all, you know that. You’re the director, I’m the lead actress, plus you’re like, a senior citizen.”

He cackles, “That’s never bothered you before.”

“And I’m focused on this movie.”

“Oh, me too. Definitely, me too. Of course, me too…..you just, um…make it a little bit…harder.”

“Hm, I see that,” you smirk, glancing down at his crotch.

He laughs, his arms reaching out for you, his face nearing yours, and you put your hand to his chest. Push him away, “Chill. I just reapplied my lipgloss.”

He rolls his eyes as you pick up the script from the floor and flash him a smile. “Okay,” you huff. “Back to work,” then you plant a kiss on your fingertips and mush your hand into Matthew’s cheek.

He tries to pull you in, but you slide your wrist out of his grasp and you’re gone.

Your costar - Sam - he’s cute. Okay, Sam is very cute. Sam is cute in a way that you thought they didn’t make men anymore. He’s pretty, but he doesn’t know it. He takes everyone else’s word for it. He’s kind, respectful, talks to you like a human being. There’s a spark between you two that is, truly, the core of creating a solid movie. It makes all the kissing and the touching much easier. Sam is a good guy. If your type were age appropriate, Sam would definitely be your type. You would totally fuck Sam.

But Matthew’s your type, if you’re being honest. You want to fuck Matthew. You want to fuck Matthew very, very much and that’s going to make this sex scene a lot harder. But for the sake of professionalism, you bite the inside of your cheek, ground yourself in the moment. Matthew makes eye contact with you from behind the camera and he gives you a quick wink. It gets your engine started, just enough so that when he calls “Action!” you close your eyes and think of him.

This is the longest three and a half minutes of Matthew’s life. It’s not suspicious that he’s watching you so closely, but the way he’s pinching the skin on his wrist is certainly not helping.

Fake sex with Sam is fun and you will certainly feel different about him afterwards. He moves against you in a certain way and you have to keep this euphoric look on your face for every camera angle and your brain is like well, alright then, maybe Sammy Boy is an option.

Then, Matthew yells. “Cut!”

And your body comes to a complete halt, your breathing returns to normal. You catch a glimpse of Matthew and your brain goes: Oh, yes. Him.

“You okay?” Sam asks you, keeping you at arms length.

“Yes,” you nod, giving him a genuine smile. “Yes. Are you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods. He holds out his hand and you both laugh as he gives you a firm handshake.

Cast and crew agree it was perfect straight shot and Matthew just approves with a thumbs up. You wonder if he’ll comment more but when he doesn’t, you just shrug it off, put on a robe, put your arm around Sam and walk off set with him.

When everyone starts to leave for the day, you walk past Matthew’s trailer and he pokes his head out the door, “Nice performance today, [y/n],” he waves.

You turn to him and laugh, “Thanks? Perv.”

“Why do you hurt me this way?”

“I’m going home. See you tomorrow,” you wave.

And as you walk away, he says, “I’ll be counting down the minutes,” and you have to keep going like you didn’t hear it.

It’s another 2 months before the movie is finished filming and the wrap party is that Friday. Matthew has been trying his best to keep some distance from you, but he finds himself texting you to find out if he’ll see you tonight. He’s tired of looking at you through a lense. It’s done, it’s over, it’s in post production. You don’t have to let his tongue in your mouth, but he hopes maybe he can hold your hand. Give you a hug.

Matthew’s not sure when you’ll arrive at the party until you’re there. You already have a beer in your hand and you’re grinning as you walk up to him. He takes you in this real tight side hug and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“You look nice,” he whispers in your ear.

“So do you,” you tell you. “I like this suit.”

He lets out a long sigh, “Thank you,” he chuckles. “Thank you, I thought you might.”

You hold his gaze for a moment and then seperate your bodies before you absolutely lose your mind.

You mix and mingle. You take pictures. A lot of pictures. You knock back a few drinks and by the time people have started clearing out, you’re cackling with Sam and other cast members out on the patio.

Matthew comes by to say goodnight to everyone and you all wave to him with a loud, collective “Bye!”

He goes around giving handshakes and hugs and when he gets to you, he leans down and wrap his arm around you. Your face nuzzles into his neck and he rubs your back softly. When he releases you, you can still smell him.

“Bye, [y/n],” he smiles and you can tell he wants to touch your face. But he doesn’t.

He leaves and you can still smell his minutes later. You take a deep breath, tell everyone you’re going to the bathroom, get up, and once you’re sure no one can see you, you run.

You catch Matthew as he’s hoping in his car and you call out his name. His heart stops and he turns to you, jaw dropped just slightly. “Hi, gorgeous.”

You chuckle under your breath, “Hi.”

Your face feels hot and tense, like you’re trying to keep yourself from grinning too much. “Can I have a ride?” you ask.

He not only drives you home, but he lets you control the music. He regrets the decision immediately.

“Don’t be such a grandpa!” you scold him.

“I’m-I’m not! I just don’t understand why it’s so…loud? And angry! Oh, my god…”

“Yeah.”

“I do sound like a grandpa.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, throwing your head back. “But I’m into it.”

He blushes, bites down on his lip, “What’d you think of Link’s speech? Too sappy, right?”

“It wasn’t until he cried.”

Matthew laughs, “Yeah, he’s a softie, but this movie is his baby.”

“Yours too, kinda.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can’t believe filming is already over.”

“Gonna miss me?”

“Fuck, [y/n]…come on, I miss you all the time. I’m kinda in love with you, remember?”

You roll your eyes, shake your head, “Over here. On the left.”

He turns into your parking deck and you unbuckle your seatbelt. You reach over his body, your knees tucked in the seat as you type in your passcode. Matthew’s eyes are wide and his hands are limp on the steering wheel. His eyes linger on your waist and your thighs. The gate opens and you plop back down in your seat and he drives off like nothing happened. He parks in a corner near the elevator and you look over at him, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Anytime. Anything-Anything you need.”

You smile at him.

“Y’know,” he says. “You can call me. You can text me and we can see each other, outside of press stuff and stuff. If you ever just-just wanna talk. I’m here, I’m here for that, for anything.”

You nod your head at him, slowly, your eyes scanning him up and down, lingering on his shaky hands. You lean over and unbuckle his seat belt. Confused he lets it slide off of his body and he follows your lead as you grab his opposite wrist and pull it towards you. You lean back in your seat and pull your dress over your thighs. You pull back your lace underwear and stick Matthew’s hand in it.

“Oh.” he says.

You arch your back, just slightly, his fingertips grazing your clit.

“What-what do I do?” Matthew asks.

You shrug, look up at him with dreary eyes, “Whatever feels right, I guess.”

And he moves his body closer to you, lowers his hand in your panties and rubs your clit. Soft, slow circles that make your eyes flutter shut. You spread your legs as far as they’ll go and he dips a finger inside of you, swims around in the flood. You grip onto the edge of your seat and Matthew touches the tip of his nose to yours. As he catches you in a kiss, his fingers slide into you and you can feel every inch. They curl in towards your belly and you whine against his lips, grinding your hips against his palm.

Matthew’s thumb pops into your mouth, his forehead pressed against yours, his wrist moving to match the rhythm of your hips. Choking on your moans, you widen your mouth, letting him slide two fingers towards the back of your throat. You can feel him watching you, but with every movement of his fingers, you’re nearing the brink and you can barely function.

He pinches your face between his fingers, covering your cheeks in your own saliva. Your groans echo around the small space, breaking up into choppy cries as Matthew increases his force, pushing his fingers as deep as they’ll go. You grip onto both of his wrists and whimper through gritted teeth, your thighs tightening around his hand.

“Fuck,” you gasp. “Oh, fuck!”

With his hand around your throat, Matthew makes you come so hard that you’re entire body spasms, your hips riding it out on his hand until you go completely weak.

“Oh, look at you,” he whispers, his voice soft and dreamy as he pushes your hair back, touches your face. He pulls his fingers out of you and sucks on them, moaning at the taste of you. You grab onto his arm and dazedly begin to nibble on his forearm. At certain points near his elbow, you sink your teeth in really deep, taking a moment to feel his skin in your mouth. The pain makes him gasp underneath his breath, but he doesn’t mind. He likes the view. You take three of his fingers in your mouth and moan as they hit the back of your throat.

Matthew hooks on by your bottom teeth, leans in and tells you, “If you want me, I’m right here…I’m right here…”

And you fix your panties, fix your dress, gives him one last kiss on the knuckles. “Thanks for the ride.”

He nods, “Anything for you. Anything.”

When the movie premiere, everyone is anxious. Everyone. No one is exempt. There are, however, those that handle it better than others. You, being those, and Matthew, being others. When he sees you, standing there in your pretty dress, looking like an angel, he rushes over to you and takes you into a hug.

“Oh,” you whisper, chuckling, “Oh, Matthew.”

“I’m about to piss myself.”

“Please don’t.”

“How are you not freaking out right now?” he asks, holding you under his arm as he looks at you.

“Someone’s gotta stay calm so you can freak out.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Oh don’t do this-“ you roll your eyes.

“When you fell from heaven?”

“I need to walk the carpet, you do, too. C’mon.” And you hold his hand.

He can’t believe it, you hold his hand!

There’s all sorts of mixing and matching that goes into the photos. You take a lot with Sam, a handful with the rest of the cast and only a few with Matthew and the rest of the crew. The energy is high and light. The interviews are positive and everyone is smiling.

You sit, you hope, you pray that this is the tone for the rest of the night.

And then the movie ends with a standing ovation.

And the energy gets even higher. You are a star. People clamor around you and Sam like royalty and you guys humbly accept it all. You ride back to the hotel with Sam and a few others, a bottle of champagne and music blasting through the speakers.

“[y/n]!” Sam calls as you part ways. “More drinks in the lobby?”

“For sure! I’m going to change into more celebrity casual, I’ll be right there!”

He laughs and waves as you head up the elevator.

You step into your hotel room and drop the key on the kitchenette counter. You stand in the center, just underneath the big, bright chandelier. And you dance. You jump. Your cheer. You nearly fall to yours knees and then there’s a knock on the door.

You skip over and open it to find Matthew, a big smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You don’t even think about it, you just jump into his arms and the two of your erupt into joyous laughter. He carries you into your room, lets the door shut behind you and places your flowers down.

“The times. The post!” he exclaims. “Everyone is talking about you.”

“Shut up,” you shake your head, your hands pressed to his chest.

“No, you shut up!” he embraces you, laughing as he says, “They like you! They really, really like you!” He looks down at you, your eyes laced with happy tears, and he pushes your hair back. “I…” he whispers. “Really, really like you.”

You smile at him, reach up and run your hands through his curls. You nuzzle your body into his and your eyelids get heavy as you breathe him in. You lift yourself up on the tip of your toes and give him a kiss. Then another kiss. Then another. And you drive yourself into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pushing your tongue into his mouth. You back him up against a wall and he gasps, “[y/n]-mm…oh, god…” he hands wanders around your body, gripping onto your ass. “What are you doing?”

You moan, throw your head back, “Just-fuck-take this dress off of me,” you order, holding his face in your hands as you peck at his lips.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he whispers. “Slower…” he tells you. His fingers push the spaghetti straps off of your shoulders and he gives you a nice, long kiss, “Slower, slower…”

You let him steadily roll the straps down your arms, feel the curves of your body as he pushes the dress past your hips. Leaving you in just your bra and panties, he takes you in his arms and loses his breath between your mouths.

He sweeps you up in his arms and your legs wrap around his torso. He drops you onto the bed and you chuckle as you bounce in the air. He leans over and you help him take his jacket off, throw it onto the floor. As he gives you a sloppy kiss, you unbutton his shirt, feels around his chest. He unhooks your bra and pulls it off, his tongue wet all over your jaw and collar and chest.

Matthews lips wrap around your nipple and your head rolls back, your hands tangled in his hair. He leaves a slimy trail down your stomach and looks up at you as he slides your panties down your legs.

“Oh, my god…” he whispers. He looks down at you, touching you all over, flat, warm, open palms on your breasts and ribs. “You’re so beautiful. So, so beautiful,” and he falls to his knees. He holds your legs open and starts to eat you off. Soft, slow, with a strong hold on your thighs. He buries his face between your legs and laps at you like he’s dehydrated.

You purr, pull at his hair, arch your back as you grind against his face. The noises you make come out jumbled and strained and Matthew can’t get enough. He hums against you, speeding up his tongue to bring you to the edge. You squeal and you squirm, but Matthew keeps you locked in place. You grip onto his arms, digging your nails into the flesh. You mutter soft, stuttering profanities, your throat raw from all the noise.

When you come, Matthew is moaning, loving the way your hold tightens around his face and your hands tug at his hair. As he returns to kiss you, you push his shirt off of his body and undo his pants. With his pants and boxers kicked off, he just falls straight into you and it’s like the whole earth shakes. You cry out, wrapping your arms around him. He breathes shakily into your ear, his hands getting under your thighs, pushing your knees to your chest.

The bed rocks back and forth as he pounds you, his eyes trained on you, your moans loud enough to shatter glass. You are absolutely everything he ever imagined you to be and more. So, so much more. You wrap around his dick in just the right way and his head falls back, his mouth falls open and his says your name on this broken, breathy loop. “[y/n], [y/n], oh, fuck, [y/n], baby.”

He watches you rub your clit in fast, hard circles, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He moves into you harder, faster, leaning in so he can hear your moans in his ear. You grip onto his shoulder and then his hair and then his throat and he peers into your eyes. He’s trying to hold on, to savor the moment, to keep you here. Just like this. But your thumb runs over his cheekbone and he breaks down and his face softens and he dissipates into these weak whimpers.

“Y-you going to come, baby?” he asks you, feeling your thighs twitch and tighten against his body.

“Y-yes,” you moan. “Fuck, yes.”

He kisses you, grunting against your lips as he uses his body to carve you out like marble, folding you in half, thrusting himself as deep as he can because he can tell how much you love it.

“C’mon, [y/n], come for me,” he groans in your ear. “Please, please, please, please.”

Your fingers work tirelessly on your clit and with one good move inside of you, you crumble. You pull Matthew close, spread your legs and let him fuck you through it. He’s talking to you, he’s telling you that you’re amazing, that you’re incredible, beautiful, sexy and you’re screaming too loud to hear any of it.

He had been waiting for you to let himself go and he stares at you the entire time he comes. You moan as you feel it splatter all over your stomach, your chest. You chuckle, wiping some off with your finger and popping the digit into your mouth, “Oh, fuck.”

Matthew laughs and crashes on top of you, holding your face as he kisses you. “Come on,” he orders, hopping up.

“Huh?”

“I’m taking you on a date.”

“Right now?” you prop yourself up. “You don’t think we’re going in the wrong order here?”

“Oh, duh, right,” he says and suddenly he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder. “We’ve gotta shower first.”

And as you laugh on the way to the bathroom, Matthew squeezes you real tight. Real, real tight, thinking:

Finally.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You gnaw on your cheek as you read over the letter. Final warning. You really didn't think much of the first five but that word catches your worry; litigation.   

Your mother grunts and clicks her pen, dropping it as she curses under her breath. She tosses the crossword book away from the chair. For all your life, you remember her working on her puzzles. Now, she can hardly hold pen steady enough to put in a single clue.  

"Mom, you want another coke before I head out?" You ask.  

"Where are you 'headed out' to?" She scowls.  

"Just outside. Try to figure out the mower."  

"Piece of shit," she sneers and for a moment, you're not sure if she means the machine or you.  

"So..."  

"Just go," she snips.  

You purse your lips around the cut of her tone. You leave her in her recliner and you go down the hallway to the back door. You shove your feet into your stained vans and let yourself gently outside.  

You come down the steps and cross the overgrown grass to the garage. You prop the door open with an old paint can and drag put the mower. You haul it over to the little patch of pavement by the house as the sunlight raises beads of sweat across your forehead.  

You shade your eyes and squint. You don't get the thing. It's not even motorized, it just started catching. You can't push it hard enough to make it go. It only bounces uselessly across the ground.  

You squat and put it on its side. You examine the blades, nervous to dig between the mulching teeth. You grab a stick and poke around. It breaks and you rip it out.  

"Dang it," you whisper.  

You stand up. It's too hot to think. As much as you miss the sunshine in the grim winters, the heat is less than welcome.   

"Hey, excuse me," a voice startles you. You ignore it, thinking maybe it's just the neighbours on the other side of the fence. "Um, miss?"  

You turn towards the voice and find a man peeking through the loose slat in the fence. You sigh. Yeah,   

that needs to be fixed too.  

You stare dumbly. You recognise the man. It takes a few seconds to remember where you saw him. He was with the realtor. You hadn't see much yet, not that you ventured outside often. The sign changed to sold and that was that.  

"Hi, uh, so this," he touches the plank, swiveling it on the hanging nail.

You nod and go to the edge of the patch of pavement but no further. You nibble your lip and search for something to say. Talking to mom is easy, you know what to expect, but strangers are different.   

"Gonna fix it," you assure him flatly.  

"Yeah, well, I was actually thinking, I'm just doing a few touch ups right now and I could spare a couple nails or two."  

You tilt your head and bring your hands together, mashing your palms anxiously, "it's rotted."  

He wiggles the wood and little slivers fall away. He hums disappointed, "sure is." He smiles as his blue eyes shine in the sunlight, "no problem then. I'm sure I can find something at the hardware store."  

You hesitate. You should mention you can afford even half a plank. Grandma left you the house and enough to cover property taxes, but mom's monthly cheques are already stretched thin. If he doesn't ask, you won't offer.  

"Steve," he stretches his arm through the opening.  

You look at his hand. Your stomach flip flops. You don't want to be rude as much as you don't want to touch this strange man. Well, no use in making another enemy around here.  

You lift your feet as you trudge through the high grass. As you near, the sweat slakes down your back. You gently shake his hand, just for a second, and pull back.  

"And your name? Neighbour?" 

You stare at the collar of his grey tee shirt and eke your name out. 

“Is it just you over here?” He asks. 

You shake your head. You bend your arm to pick at your sleeve. You don’t mind introductions but you’re not much for conversation. You don’t need him prying into things. If anyone really saw inside those walls, they’d only feel bad for you. You’d rather their apathy. 

“Oh, you got kids? A husband?” 

You wince. It’s almost a flattering assumption yet a reminder of everything you don’t have. You’re not old enough to really think about all that anyway. 

You glance back at the side of the house. You should hose that down and get rid of the mildew. Another tick on the endless list. 

“Mom,” you say. 

“Ah, makes sense. You in school?” 

You shake your head again. He’s quiet. You sway listlessly. 

“Anyway...” he says. 

You put your head down and back away. You go back to the mower, bending down to fiddle with it again. You could see if anyone would lend you one but that means asking and as much as the neighbourhood paints itself in friendly smiles, they aren’t genuine. The letter on the kitchen table is proof of that. 

“Not working?” The man, Steve asks. You cringe and stand up. He’s still there. 

You shrug as you look at him. You turn back to the mower and lift it by the handles. You try to ignore the nosy neighbour and line it up with the grass. You push and it doesn’t move easy. You grunt and it rolls over the grass. You think maybe it’s working but as you turn, you notice the grass stands back up, only slightly bent. 

“You know, I got a nice electric one. Isn’t here yet but I can bring it tomorrow on the truck,” he offers, “I wouldn’t mind doing a once over, if you need.” 

You huff and push the mower over. 

“Can’t pay you,” you stomp back towards the house. 

“I didn’t say anything about money,” he chimes. 

You stop by the steps and cross your arms. You look at him, “too much.” 

“Well, if you change your mind, you can just come knock on my door,” he says. 

You nod and spin around again. You climb the steps, fighting to keep your steps even. You want to run inside and hide but you don’t want him to see how desperate you are to get away. 

The screen door snaps shut behind you. You kick off your shoes and go down the hall. Your mother huffs from her recliner. 

“You figure it out?” She asks. 

“No,” you flop onto the couch. 

“Knew ya wouldn’t,” she snorts as she stares out the window. “Man’s back. Musta bought the place.” 

“Uh, yeah,” you lean back, pulling the collar of your shirt over your face to sop up the sweat. “It’s hot.” 

“Nah, you’re just whiny,” she snickers. 

You don’t respond. You know better than that. You let her have her truth. Whatever she thinks of you, you can’t disprove. The world is she says it is. 

🏠

Your bedroom window shines yellow with the noon sun. The heat beams down on the folding table, warming your hands as you scratch charcoal onto thick paper. You still have grass stains on your fingers from another fruitless attempt at fixing the mower. Another day and you expect another letter isn’t far behind. 

As you focus on the lines and curves left by the pencil, your anxiety subsides. Drawing is the only thing that helps you forget. Really forget. You don’t think about the house or the lawn or the HOA or your mom. It’s just you and the pencil. 

You lean your forehead in your hand as you cross hatch the shadows. The chirping birds and the soft breeze deepen your trance. The world around you is distant and dim. You’re only awoken but the sudden and unfamiliar ‘ding dong’. 

You sit up. It takes a moment before you realise what it was. The doorbell? No one ever rings it. No, even Marge from the HOA waits until you come out to get the mail to accost you. 

You put the pencil down and get up. You go out and peek down the hallway. You creep along and stop at the doorway to the front room. You mom sniffs and wipes her eyes. She must have fallen asleep in her chair. 

“Who is it?” She snarls with grogginess in her throat. 

“I don’t know,” you go to the door and pull the curtain away from the long window beside it. You peek out at the figure on the porch and quickly hide behind the fabric. Too late. “It’s... the neighbour. I think he saw me.” 

“Ergh, don’t be stupid, girlie,” your mother barks, “help me up.” 

“Oh, uh, okay.” 

You go to her and offer your hand. You get her to her feet. She slightly hunched and slow but she makes her way to the door. She pauses and turns to the mirror above the little bench against the wall. She tidies her hair and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 

She leans on the door as she grips the handle. She opens it and the man from next door, Steve, greets her with a grin. 

“Hello?” She sweetens her tone. 

“Hello, miss, sorry to bother you,” he says, “I just moved in next door and I’m getting settled in. I was just about to do some lawn work and I thought maybe I might offer to do yours? It’s no trouble, I just thought I’d offer.” 

“Oh, what a honey you are,” she preens, “of course, that would be lovely of you. My daughter,” she sighs and shakes her head, “I’ve been nagging her for weeks to get it done.” 

“Really, it’s not a bother,” he assures her, “I’m Steve by the way.” 

His smile is just as charming as his introduction. 

“Holly,” your mother returns, “I’ll make you some lemonade for your trouble. It’s a hot one, isn’t it?” 

“Sounds good,” he agrees, “I’ll try not to make too much noise.” 

You peek out from behind your mother. Steve’s eyes meet yours for an instant before she blocks her out, no doubt eager to hide the state of the house from him. You back up as she turns to you.  

“What’re you doing hanging on like a rodent?” She hisses, “go make some lemonade.” 

[mapofthesea]

jungkook x fem!reader

non idol!au, domestic jungkook

genre: smut and fluff

word count: 3k

summary: After your midday nap ends in a nightmare, you seek Jungkook for comfort.

warnings: talk of a bad dream (some discussion of it but nothing crazy), needy Jungkook, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, face sitting, oral (f receiving), lots of love for readers tits, body appreciation in general, they're in love, handjob, some teasing/begging, jk is whiny but still in charge, dirty talk, unprotected sex in an established relationship (this is fiction, please don’t do this irl), jk cums inside, aftercare 

an: This came to me in a dream again and I woke up far too early to write the outline. As always, I do not proof read (because I am lazy and spend enough time proof reading my college assignments) so if there’s any typos I apologize. This includes mature content and is for 18+ audiences ONLY, so if you are underage or uncomfortable with this content, please don’t read it. Enjoy!

A shiver wracks down your spine, hair standing at attention underneath the warmth of your thick sherpa sweatshirt. The remnants of your dark nightmare leave you confused, even as a gentle mid-day sun streams into your bedroom and the pleasant chirping of birds faintly greets you. Your head spins and your mouth is dry, but you ignore both of those feelings as you rush out of bed. 

Flashes of the nightmare seem to stick to you, even with the sunny disposition of the day. The feeling of hopelessness and loss stings you in the short walk down the hallway into Jungkook’s office, where you had left him when you went to bed. The door is ajar, and the breath you exhale as you open it is punched right back out of you when you find the room empty. 

Anxiety simmers within you, promoted by the way you had just dreamed about not being able to reach your beloved boyfriend. The only thing you can think to do is rush down the stairs clumsily, narrowly avoiding banging your elbow off of the railing as you fly into the living room. Jungkook is there, sitting on the couch facing away from you, mindlessly tapping through his phone. 

A sigh of relief falls from your lips as you latch yourself around him from behind the couch. He startles at your touch and turns until he’s sideways, level with your chest as he peers up at you. 

His hair is endearingly mussed, a few errant pieces poking up at the crown. His big eyes twinkle at you, irises searching your own when he sees the stricken look on your face.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Of course he immediately noticed something was wrong. You can only imagine how crazy you look fresh out of a nap and a subsequent panic. 

“Just a bad dream.” You offer, running your hands down the steady plane of his back, enjoying the tangible proof of him being alive and well. Jungkook makes a low keening noise at your attention, nuzzling into the soft fabric of your sweatshirt so far that you almost don't hear his muffled words. 

“Wanna talk about it?” You finally make out his words, and the thought of rehashing the dream brings tears to your eyes. Your breath hitches a little as he settles his head on your chest. His weight is grounding, and the fact that you can smell his intoxicating mix of shampoo and cologne gives you enough power to choke out the details. 

“You needed help, and you kept calling for me, and I couldn’t get to you.” You sniffle and he whines, winding his hands around your back to hold you impossibly closer. “And you just kept yelling my name and I couldn’t find you, and I thought that you were...” the word stalls in your throat but he understands, nodding against your chest. One of your hands slides to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart and the constant rise and fall of his breath. “I just needed to know you’re still here.”

“I’m okay, I promise. I’m right here.” His hands are steady on your waist, nose nuzzling endearingly into the space just under your breasts. His actions make you shiver for a completely different reason, and a shuddering breath punches out of you. 

“Need me to prove it?” His voice takes on a teasing lilt that makes your stomach flip and you hum your affirmation. Jungkook moves deliberately, nuzzling his face against your covered cleavage. Even through the layers of clothing you can feel your nipples harden, begging for him to give them more attention. He mouths at your tits through the fabric, playfully biting at the flesh there just enough to make you gasp. 

“Fuckin’ sweatshirt,” he groans, looking up at you with well practiced puppy eyes. He knows he doesn't need them, that you would do basically anything he asked you right now, but he loves to see the way your face softens at his expression. 

“Please take it off, baby. I wanna see your pretty tits. Wanna have ‘em in my mouth.” The genuine desperation in his voice is nothing new but it still makes your brain short circuit a bit as you scramble to pull the sweatshirt off. As soon as the fabric hits the floor Jungkook’s hands push your t-shirt up over your chest, holding it up around your collarbones with one hand as he dives into your tits.

He has no shame in lapping at you, leaving trails of translucent spit around your nipples as you keen. Jungkook sighs happily as his free hand gropes what he can't fit in his mouth, which he’s using to leave a sinful pattern of bite marks all over you. He makes a particularly pointed mark inches away from your nipple that has your knees buckling. He chuckles a breath of air across your already sensitive nipple and your hands grip greedily into the back of the couch for support. 

The way his head looks at it bobs between your breasts makes you dizzy, not to mention the deft movements of his tongue and hand sending sparks straight to your core. 

“Taste so fucking good baby, as always. Shit. I love these fucking tits.” He licks a bold stripe across your right nipple before capturing it between his lips and you pitch forward into his touch. Your hands move too, desperate to feel something other than the plush of your couch under them. 

Jungkook is so wrapped up in you that he doesn't notice your hands have moved until you’re palming his cock through his lounge shorts. He groans and nips at the swell of your breast in retaliation. 

The feeling of him readily hardening under your touch makes you moan, head tipped back as you trace the familiar length through the fabric. 

“Wanna touch you, Jungkook, please.” Your eyes water with tears and he coos at you, stroking his thumb underneath your eye to collect some tears. 

“Fuck, yeah, baby. Take my cock out while I suck these pretty tits.” His voice is barely more than a whine, but you feel confidence surge through you at the idea that you’re the one to make him this way. With no underwear on, it’s easy for you to get his cock out of the confines of his shorts. The weight and size of him is familiar and almost welcoming as you begin to stroke him the way you know he likes. You savor the feeling of his prominent veins as his cock jumps in your touch. His breath stutters against your chest in tiny puffs, giving away just how badly his resolve was slipping as you work your thumb over the head. 

“Fucking shit, you have to stop,” his hands fall away from you, head tipping back as you stroke him particularly hard. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. 

You decide to ignore his words but only manage to stroke him a few more times before he pushes your hands off of him with a growl. His eyes are dark with lust, hungrily racing over your figure that’s back to being covered with your t-shirt. Your chest heaves as he tips his head toward the empty space on the couch, and even without words you know what he wants. 

You settle into the couch and seconds later Jungkook is over you. You can see the way he’s pushed his hair off of his forehead, and the sexy crease of his eyebrows as he appraises you. 

“Stupid shirt,” he mumbles as he helps you take it off, mumbling endearingly as it gets stuck on his hands while he tries to get it onto the floor. His own follows shortly after, and it doesn't take long before he’s hovering above you completely bare. 

His cock stands at attention against his toned stomach and you reach for it, hoping he takes some pity and lets you return the favor of amazing foreplay. 

“No,” he grunts as you make contact with him. A shy smile splits his face when he notices your pout and his demeanor softens despite the situation. Jungkook brings his face inches away from your own and smiles. 

“You know I haven't even kissed you since you came down here? How awful of me.” 

“Hmmm, worst boyfriend award pending,” you tease. He smiles again and his nose wrinkles adorably, teeth poking out in the most endearing way. Your stomach flips at his beauty, how lucky you are to have him. 

“Fuck, just kiss me, please,” you breathe, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to feel his lips on your own. You keep a steady hold on the back of his neck as you kiss, clashing teeth as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Your hips buck involuntarily at his touch and his hands find a place at them, holding with a bruising grip. He disconnects from the kiss, planting one on your chin as your chest heaves with desire. 

“My sweet girl, all worried about me in your dream, hm?” The way he’s able to change his demeanor so quickly during sex is something you love about him, and your head spins as he falls back into a more dominant personality. His fingers tease into the waistband of your bottoms, dancing along the delicate skin of your hips. 

“Y-yeah,” you squeak out. Jungkook takes mercy on you and slides your bottoms down, leaving you bare to his gaze and touch. 

“Wanna make you feel better now.” He sits up, surprisingly, and your eyes zero in on the way his cock bobs with the movement. His legs fold and unfold as he moves, and you’re confused until you realize he's laid himself down on the extended sectional of the couch. 

“C’mere baby. Want you up here.” You obey mindlessly, crawling over him so that you’re on top now. Assuming he wants you to ride him, you position yourself just above his hips, hands planted on his firm chest. An incredulous laugh punches out of him as he reaches down for you, pulling you further up his chest until you’re-

“Jungkook, no.” You gasp, in disbelief of what you now realize he’s implying. His hands splay on your thighs and his eyes sparkle. 

“Uh uh, no fighting me. We both know how much you love sitting on my face, so get up here. Wanna have you in my mouth.” 

Your stomach contracts because you know he’s right, but there’s a nagging voice in the back of your head. 

“Kook, I just had a dream that you..died, and I don’t wanna hurt you.” Jungkook grunts at your worry, pinching at the meat of your thigh. 

“Baby, I’ll be just fine. Plus, if I’m gonna go, I would love for it to be while I’m buried in your sweet little pussy.” 

His candor sends a new wave of arousal through you, and you know he’s right, so you nod and shuffle your hips up to him. 

“Love you so much, Kook.” He smiles at your words and promptly wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you exactly where he wanted you. His tongue immediately splits open your pussy lips as his fingers flex into your skin and hold you in place. You can feel his nose pressing against your clit, rubbing the nerves in a way that makes your eyes roll. He makes short work of licking up every bit of arousal you'd already produced, but there’s no shortage of more as he endeavors to attach his lips around your clit and suck. 

Your thighs shake around his head and you can heard his satisfied moans against your pussy. You feel like every nerve inside your body is on fire, conducted by the way his tongue knows the perfect places to devour. Your orgasm builds exponentially when he licks messy circles around your clit, the sloppy sounds of his spit mixing with your juices hurdling you closer to your end. Your toes curl as he groans again, vibrations going right to your core and coaxing your orgasm out of you. You gasp, unable to stop the tightening of your thighs around his head as you cum. 

Forever the champ of eating you out, Jungkook continues to lap up your orgasm until you’re genuinely worried you might be hurting him and scoot back off of him. He lets you go reluctantly, staring up at you as you go. 

His face is covered in the sheen of your cum, and his eyes are so wide and admiring that you almost want to cry. 

“You're so hot, baby. Perfect little pussy.” He sits up and captures you in his arms, uncaring of the way your weeping pussy gushes against him. 

You kiss him, and all you can taste is you, but you still feel so pleasantly high from cumming that you can’t find it in you to feel embarrassed. As your senses come back you feel his cock beneath you, and despite having just cum, you feel voracious for him to be inside of you. Jungkook kisses the soft spot under your ear and sighs at the contact of your throbbing pussy on him. 

“If you're ready I am, baby. Need to cum in you,” the strain in his voice is obvious and so sexy, the evidence of just how much you affect him. 

You can’t resist kissing him again, sharing the flavor between your tongues as he lays you back down. Although you haven't said anything, he knows your legs are far too tired to do anything but lay down and take it, and he’s more than happy to adjust for that. 

He strokes his cock a few times, spreading his precum down his shaft in a way that has your mouth watering. Your legs fall open easily, never one to deny him or delay your shared pleasure. Jungkook moans appreciatively at the gesture, running his fingers down your slit before slipping two in. 

You writhe at the unexpected contact, sensitive to his touch after cumming so hard on his tongue. Although you understand and appreciate his concern of making sure you're ready for his cock, you feel more than prepared for him after your first orgasm. 

“Please don't fucking tease me right now, I need you.” Jungkook arches a brow at your desperate plea, a shit eating grin sprouting as his fingers stall. 

“You need me that bad, huh? Don’ even need me to stretch out your little pussy?” He knows you can handle him, but the idea of making you admit it has his cock jumping again. 

Your face flames with misplaced embarrassment, knowing exactly what he wants you to admit to. 

“Y-you don’ need to because I came so hard, I-I’m wet enough.” You stutter it out and his smirk widens, proud of himself for making you admit it. 

“My dirty little baby.” He steals another kiss as he guides the tip of his cock to you, running it over your clit until he can't take it anymore. Jungkook presses in slowly and you can see his pretty eyes roll back as he feels your walls envelope him. 

Despite how wet you were, the sheer size of his cock means there’s always a stretch, but you work through it quickly, squeezing your walls around him once he has fully sunk into you. A string of praises falls from your lips as he thrusts into you, barely holding back. His hands squeeze the flesh of your waist as he fucks you, eyes bored onto the place where you connect. 

It’s all you can do to keep from squirming off of the couch in pleasure as he fucks into you with a practiced precision, finding the perfect angle and speed and using it to his advantage to work you up quickly. The sight of him over you is something you never want to be without: lower lip captured between his teeth, hair slicked back with sweat, chest heaving with his effort as his thrusts rock you up the couch cushions. 

When he finally unlatches his bottom lip from between his teeth, he makes the prettiest moans you’ve ever heard, interlaced with praises that make your own chest heave. 

“Shit, you feel so good, my baby. My girl made for me, perfect little pussy that’s just for me.” His hands shake noticeably as he moves them; one to press down over your stomach and keep you in place, the other finding it’s place over your clit. You can tell he’s close when you feel his cock twitch inside of you, and he doubles his efforts by circling your clit with two fingers at a speed that would make your wrist ache. Your hands scramble to grab onto his arms, leaving crescent marks behind where your nails dig into his skin. 

“Right t-there, Kook.” Your eyes roll and all words abandon you as your orgasm rushes in, churning your stomach in knots of pleasure as you moan Jungkook’s name. 

“Got you, baby. Right behind you.” He cums seconds after you, giving short thrusts to pump his cum as far into you as possible. You enjoy the come-down together, gripping each other closely as the world returns. You still feel a bit like your head is underwater when Jungkook gets the energy to pull out of you, but you take his hand when he offers it. One trip to the bathroom later, you’re back where you began your afternoon. 

This time Jungkook’s toned body is backing your own, fingers playing with the hair that splays around you on the sheets. 

“Feeling better?” He asks. You nod, turning to face him. Neither of you bother putting clothes back on before crawling into bed, and you press your bare chest against his own. 

“Good.” He grins and gives you a sweet kiss. “Next time you have a bad dream you let me know.” 

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You gonna solve every bad dream with a good fuck for the rest of our lives?” 

Jungkook laughs in the way he only does around you and your heart blooms. 

“Sure, if that’s what it takes. Anything for you.”