#in your dreams wrapped gift

[didnt-hear-cold-as-you-live]

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[sqoa]

cw stalking

☓☓☓ stalker!satoru likes exploiting his heightened senses to learn everything and anything he can about you. he doesn't even need to be in the fucking room to know that you're sitting with your thighs pressed together because you're still thinking about the letter he slipped under your door that morning.

the letter, in which he wrote the dirtiest details about yourself that not even you picked up on. like how when you're really horny you become restless and can't keep still for too long, or how when you cum your eyes squeeze shut and you almost look scared of the pleasure you're giving yourself. which he loves, because your fear is an aphrodisiac to him.

but you figure whoever it is that's stalking you is only stabbing a guess at what could be true. because there is no way he's someone you've fucked, because you don't fuck on a whim. the only other explanation you can come up with is that he's been in your home, either to install cameras or slip into the shadows late at night when you're touching yourself. which is a ridiculous thought, so he must be assuming.

until you come home from a particularly gruelling day to find a small box on your pillow.

it's black, and wrapped in a blue ribbon that looks hauntingly familiar to the shade of blue—you shake your head. with trembling hands you open the box to find three things. one of which is a baby blue vibrator, the same shade as the ribbon and a certain set of eyes you often think of when you touch yourself. you also find a smaller box with a note attached.

'a promise, until you trust me enough to replace it with the real thing, doll.' it reads, and doesn't make sense until you open the box and find a ring inside. expensive looking and glistening under the moonlight coming in through your window. it fits your ring finger perfectly when curiosity bests you and you slip it on. You should be panicked, locking your doors and calling the police but there's a horrible ache in your lower abdomen that has you awful restless, and you realise that perhaps your sweet-tongued stalker knows a little more about you than you do yourself.

weeks of gifts like this go by, from sex toys to expensive meal deliveries each night, you're starting to feel more like a sugar baby than a victim. and still, you haven't even given in to your stalker... you've been too scared to touch yourself, to put the box of toys he's gifted you to use, because each night as you fall asleep you dream of vile things done to you by a man you can't see the face of. you worry that if you give in, let him watch you fuck yourself stupid on the toys he brought you, you won't want to hate this. to hate the way he calls you his doll, like you're a toy to be played with, in a home he somehow has access to despite how many times you change the locks.

it's not until you're on a mission one day, alongside satoru gojo. you're in an awfully tight space together, stuck in an abandoned warehouse and boxed in by curses that you're sure he could handle in the blink of an eye if he wanted to. but you're here, pressed chest-to-chest and breathing in the scent of his sweat and cologne mixing together—sugar on his breath.

and you're just so needy, after weeks of denying yourself in hopes of boring your stalker away. you have to press your thighs together, satoru's hard abs against your stomach is too much: and the way he looks down at you, laboured breath and glossy lips parted... you have to look away. but when your gaze meets the ground, you catch a glimpse of something that you hadn't noticed before.

a ring on his finger, one that matches yours—hell, it even looks cut from the same gem.

and his voice is poison. "you've been hiding from me haven't you, my doll?"

[leyiorr]

i can't stop looking at her t-t-t-t, FACE!

mdni.

satoru gojo is doomed.

why is he doomed, you ask? well, put bluntly, you, his girlfriend of five months, are driving him absolutely crazy.

crazy is an understatement, actually. insane, mad, mental, unhinged, deranged, bonkers - whatever you want to call it. he's holding on by a thread; the thinly woven string known as sanity growing ever weaker as the days roll by and turn into weeks.

of course, he's only blaming you. you hadn't actually done anything wrong.

you're the first relationship satoru's had in his life, and he'd be damned if some inappropriate thoughts ruin his chances with the love of his life. he'd never been happier - dating you gave him the kind of happiness he thought only existed in movies; the kind of giddiness of a child in a candy store.

he was devoted to you in every way, shape and form - you are everything he's dreamed of and more.

more.

that's right, you were more.

recently, you were the devil's temptation personified.

surprisingly, even after twenty-odd years of being one of the most attractive guys around, and having women throw themselves at him like he's some kind of greek deity, satoru is a virgin. i'll repeat that, he is a virgin. a fact that only suguru knows. a fact that he's neglected to tell his girlfriend.

he may have a flirtatious personality and the ability to charm ninety percent of the human race with one of his thousand-kilowatt smiles, but in truth, he had never dated anyone. ever. let alone got his dick in a pussy.

so when he starts wanting to go further, he's not sure how to bring it up without sounding like a horndog.

it all started when you wore a sleek black dress to one of your dates. it clung to your figure, fabric wrapping shamelessly around your every curve and tickling your midthigh at its end. and if that wasn't bad enough, it had a plunging neckline, giving the world - satoru specifically - an eyeful of the assets god gifted you with. your boobs were practically spilling out of your dress, the light catching your cleavage as you held his arm. he could feel himself salivating like some sort of perv. how was he supposed to focus with aphrodite's personal creation hanging off his arm?

his eyes began to drift to the flesh of your chest more than he'd like to admit. all sorts of r-rated scenarios ran through his head and he dared to entertain every. single. one. he could do so much with them, tease them, spit on them, pinch them, suck on them, put his dick between them-

“satoru?”

his gaze snaps back to your face at record speed. you notice how he's chewing his bottom lip, flush creeping onto his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. his hands are clammy; there's suddenly too little oxygen in his room.

“did you listen to anything i said?” your arms fold beneath your bosom and satoru almost implodes.

what do you expect him to do? the necklace around your neck has his initial on it, and it hovers over your tits almost mockingly. if it snapped, the letter would fall right between the valley of your breasts-

“satoru!”

he's choking on his saliva, apologizing profusely as he encourages you to continue your story - though he hasn't heard shit over the blood pumping loudly in his ears.

it's a battle no, a war between his rationality and his desires and he doesn't know which is winning. his rationality wins when he's around you - he just sucks in a breath and thugs it out, no matter how much his dick shouts at him. but in private, he's letting the desires win as his fists himself to the thought of you, your lips, your ass; your boobs.

the first time he sees you in a bikini he has to take a breather before he can get into a game of beach volleyball with you and the group.

(and even then he was struggling. every time you jumped for the ball the only thing he was looking at was your tits.)

he should be neutered. effective immediately.

it drags out for so long that you finally notice, and force him to talk to you about why he's avoiding you, and if you'd done anything wrong. but all you get is:

“baby, i'm so sorry- you're so pretty and i can't help myself. i didn't know how to bring up that i wanted to take our relationship to the next step, you mean the world to me and i'd hate to make you uncomfortable-” he trips and stumbles over his words-

“...is that it?”

and his eyes bug out of his head as he stares at you. weeks, months of agony over this and all you have to say is 'is that it'?

he doesn't even have chance to respond; to process your words before you're popping the top button of your blouse.

yeah, satoru gojo is doomed.

[yandere-writer-momo]

The final part of Mommy! First part

Yandere Short Stories: Mommy

Delusional Yandere Single Father x Teacher Afab Reader x Platonic Yandere Son

Jesse wrapped his arms around (your name)‘s legs, the small boy hummed in contentment when she ran her fingers through his black curls. Why couldn’t she be his mom? She was so warm and gentle… so much better than the woman who gave birth to him.

“Jesse? I think your nanny is waiting to take you home.” (Your name) smiled down at Jesse who only burrowed himself further into her skirts. She sighed at how clingy the young boy was, but she was sympathetic to his feelings. Jesse didn’t have any warmth in his home so he sought it out from her.

“I don’t want to go home… can’t I stay with you?” Jesse glanced up at her with his blue puppy dog eyes, his lips in a pout. “Can’t you just adopt me, I’ll be good…”

“Jesse, I can’t adopt you.” (Your name) felt her heart clench when he started to cry. “Jesse-“

“But all the other kids have a mommy and I don’t! I want to be read stories and I want homemade lunches. I don’t want to be alone!” Jesse buried his face into (your name)’s skirts. His little hands clutched tightly onto the cotton fabric in a death grip. “I’ll be a good boy. I’ll be quiet and I won’t ask for much-“

(Your name)’s thumbs instantly brushed away the hot tears that dribbled down his soft cheeks to smooth the young boy. Her beautiful face now in a frown.

“Shh… you can come hang out with me when you’re lonely at school.” (Your name) warmly smiled at Jesse. She ran her fingers through his thick curls as he sniffled.

“R-really? You’ll let me spend time with you?” Jesse’s voice trembled as he tried to calm his tears. “Can I eat lunch with you everyday? I like when you cut the crust off my sandwiches…”

“Of course, Jesse.” (Your name) reassured Jesse, who buried his face in her skirts once more. This sweet boy… he deserved love.

Unbeknownst to (your name), Jesse had a wicked smile on his sweet face that was hidden in her skirts.

Jesse may have been the spit image of Liam, but he was still his birth mother’s son… and (your name) would be his mommy one way or another.

.

.

.

Jesse often hogged (your name)’s attention from the other children. He’d rush to her first whenever class would start or end to hug her, he’d raise his hand for every question so he could be praised, and he’d constantly ask for help.

Jesse was not liked by the other children but he didn’t care all that much about them.

Because Jesse wanted his mommy to only have eyes for him.

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.

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Liam felt nervous at the florist shop he was in. The various floral displays of affection made his stomach twist into a knot. He was so nervous… to buy apology flowers for his son’s teacher.

Liam ran a hand through his dark hair with a sigh. This was an incredibly frustrating experience for him since he’s never bought a gift for a woman before. Especially not one as lovely as (your name). Liam couldn’t get her angry expression out of his head… she haunted his dreams and lingered in the crannies in his mind.

She was an itch he couldn’t scratch and Liam disliked this alien feeling she brought out. Liam didn’t know why his heart pounded in his chest at the thought of her or why his cheeks heated up. It made him anxious.

“And what can I help you with today, sir?” The florist smiled warmly at Liam who nearly jumped out of his skin. Liam had been so lost in his thoughts, the florist had caught him off guard.

“I think I would like a bouquet of roses…” Liam’s forest green eyes glanced at the red roses in interest. “The reddest ones you have.”

(Your name) would look lovely in red… Liam couldn’t help the image of her in a red dress that surfaced in his mind. He didn’t quite understand his attraction toward her, but he hoped it would fade.

.

.

.

Liam stood before (your name) in her classroom, his cheeks rosy as he studied her expression. Her arms held the fragrant roses in confusion.

���Mister Isbert? There was no need to get me roses-“

“I’m sorry for making presumptions about your character. It was unjust of me.” Liam bowed to (your name) in apology. “Please forgive me-“

Liam gasped when she moved closer to him, which and whom snap his head up in attention. His forest green eyes wide when she gave him such a warm smile… he’s never seen a smile like that directed toward him in his entire life.

“It’s perfectly okay. I understand you may have been through some trauma but I assure you I’m not after those sorts of things with you.” (Your name) then turned her gaze toward Jesse who peaked around the corner of the classroom. It seemed the young boy was eager to enter. “I’m just concerned for Jesse is all-“

“I do not know how to be a good father…” Liam shyly admitted, his forest green eyes focused on her confused expression. “I have never been taught warmth.”

“Well I have no issue teaching you how to spend time with a child… if you’d like of course, mister Isbert.” (Your name) smiled at Liam whose cheeks went aflame.

“I’d love to…” Liam cleared his throat and gave (your name) a soft smile. “And please, call me Liam.”

The two adults smiled warmly at each other which made Jesse perk up from his spot. Maybe he’d get her to be his mommy after all…

.

.

.

(Your name) laughed when Liam tried to tie Jesse’s shoe laces. The businessman was clueless…

“Here, let me help.” (Your name) gently took the shoelaces from Liam and slowly tied them in front of him. “The dragon goes under the bridge, through the loop, and into the castle!”

Jesse giggled at the rhyme, his eyes sparkled at his dad. “See! Mommy knows how to tie shoes!”

Liam blushed in embarrassment when (your name) and Jesse shared a laugh. He never knew how simple this was… how a family should be.

“Why don’t we read a book together?”

Liam glanced over at (your name) while she picked out a fairy tale. A ray of sunlight hit her at the perfect angle that made her even more angelic.

Liam never knew someone could be so beautiful…

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.

.

Weeks went by of Liam’s ‘lessons’ of fatherhood. The two adults would laugh together as (your name) tried to teach him how to be more affectionate with his son, unaware that the businessman started to be affectionate with her as well… Liam came to terms that he loved her.

Liam loved the young woman who was eager to help him mend his relationship with his son and teach him how to love. To not take out his trauma onto Jesse and to be more open to change.

Liam became a better person by being around (your name) and he had no interest in going back to the way his life was before he got to know her better. The two of them were truly a power couple! She’s shown him a new side of life he never knew existed… who knew Jesse would indirectly introduce Liam to his soulmate?

Liam blushed as he sat at his desk, his head filled with thoughts of (your name). The image of her holding Liam in her arms burned in his mind.

How could someone look so perfect holding his child?

Liam dug into his desk drawer and pulled out one of the many drawing Jesse had made of (your name) and him. The three of them as a happy family.

Liam lit up a cigar and took a deep inhale of the smoke. Yes… he’d ask her to be his wife. To be Jesse’s mom.

Liam held the picture close to his chest. He needed to tell her how he felt… of how he loved her.

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Liam upped security around the school as usual since he dropped by for the lessons. Liam wanted to ensure this entire ordeal remained private, he had no desire to add more stress onto poor (your name)’s life… today, they were gong to become an official family.

Liam sighed dreamily as he thought of what was about to happen today. (Your name) would be so beautiful as his wife and future mother of more children. He wondered how many siblings Jesse would like? To add onto their perfect family.

“Is there something wrong, Liam?” Liam perked up when (your name) softly called his name, she was careful not to disturb the sleeping Jesse in her arms. “You’ve been lost in space for a while now.”

“Would you be interested in dating me?” Liam’s blunt question nearly made (your name) fall over in shock. Date him? Where on earth did he get the idea that she wanted that sort of relationship with him?

“I don’t think we should.” (Your name) smiled warmly at Liam who frowned at her gentle rejection. “You’re a CEO of a big corporation and I’m just a measly kindergarten teacher.”

“I could take care of you.” Liam whispered softly. “You’d never struggle financially and you could be with Jesse every day. Don’t you want Jesse to be happy?”

(Your name) glanced down at the young boy who remained asleep. She did care about Jesse… but not enough to date his father.

“I’m sorry but I can’t do that.” (Your name) sighed softly as she handed Jesse to Liam to take. “I hope you find someone on your level to be with, Liam.”

Liam could only sit on the floor in shock when she walked to her desk to gather her belongings. She didn’t want him? Why didn’t she want him?

Liam tried to speak but he couldn’t find the words to stop her. How could he tell her he’s never felt this way before? That he wanted her? That he-

“I love you!” (Your name) froze in the doorway when Liam blurted out his declaration of love.

“W-what-“ Liam scrambled to his feet to try to stand before her. His lithe body hovered over her like a shadow.

“I love you and I’ve never felt this way before… please give me a chance.”

“I’m sorry, Liam-“

“I won’t accept no as an answer.” Liam felt his stomach twist but he needed to get her to be his… he needed her. “I’ll ruin your life if you don’t accept my love. I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much as I want you.”

Jesse stirred awake in Liam’s arms, the young boy’s eyes wide at his father’s words. “Become Jesse’s mom. I’m serious about being with you.”

“I-“ (your name) was cut off by Jesse who excitedly reached for her.

“Mommy? You’ll be my mommy?!” Jesse began to cry when he hands grabbed hers. “Mommy. Mommy!”

“Yes, Jesse.” Liam smiled down at Jesse as he pulled (your name) close. “Miss (last name) is going to be your mommy.”

“No-“ (your name) gasped when Liam suddenly bent down to kiss her which made Jesse smile brightly.

“We should head home, right?” Liam turned to Jesse who smiled brightly at his dad. “Like a happy family should.”

[these-lovely-monsters]

Tentacles Under The Bed - Part 2

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: gn!tentacle monster x f!reader

Content: tentacles, bondage, nipple/clit stimulation, double penetration, anal play, edging, yandere monster

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

It’s late at night and you’re sitting in bed, reading a book before you go to sleep. Or at least, you’re trying to, but you keep peeking over the side of the bed, hoping your tentacle monster will come visit you again tonight. After a while, with no sign of your guest from last night, your eyes grow heavy and you drift off to sleep. The light is still on and your book is sitting open on your stomach as you lay sprawled across your mattress, dreaming about tentacles wrapping you up.

You’re snoring softly when, suddenly, you jolt awake to the feeling of something cool and silky caressing your cheek. Quickly sitting up in bed, you blink open your eyes to find an inky black tentacle stroking your face. With a wide smile, you reach out a hand and stroke your fingers along its length, marveling at how nice the texture feels. When the tentacle begins tickling your ear, you squirm out of reach, giggling and gently batting it away. Wiggling in place, almost as if it’s laughing, the tentacle retreats back under the bed.

A moment later, it reappears again with its tip wrapped around an object. This time, you reach out your hand, eager to see what it has for you. When it uncurls itself, a small stone drops into your hand. Grinning at the new gift, you hold it up to the light and marvel at the gorgeous gray surface that’s veined with bright streaks of white. After you’ve finished inspecting the stone, you place it on your nightstand along with the pearl and necklace pendant. Leaning in, you place a soft kiss on the tip of the tentacle and then laugh when it wiggles again.

Remembering what you found up earlier today, you hop off the bed and hurry over to your backpack, calling over your shoulder, “I have something for you too!”

After rummaging around for a minute, you find what you’re looking for and walk back over to your bed where the tentacle is still patiently waiting. Extending your hand, you watch as it carefully picks up the piece of dark green sea glass, its edges worn smooth. Another tentacle appears as it gently rolls the piece of glass between the two tips, caressing the surface, as if inspecting it.

You’re chewing your bottom lip, hoping it likes your gift, when suddenly the tentacles wiggle again as several more shoot up from under the bed and wrap you up in a giant hug. Laughing, you squeeze back, happy that it seems to like your gift. 

As the tentacles slither along your skin, you’re reminded of the night before when it had you pinned to the bed. Your cheeks grow flushed with the memory and you wonder how you can make that happen. As if it can sense where your thoughts are headed, the tentacles begin to deliberately rub along your nipples, which are already hardening under your shirt. Letting out a soft moan, you relax into the monster’s hold, hoping it will get the hint.

It clearly understands what you want because a few tentacles grip your shirt and begin pulling it over your head as others work your shorts down your hips. Once you’re completely naked, the tentacles take a moment to slither along your bare skin, as if enjoying the feel of you just as much as you do. 

Then, one of the tentacles wraps around both your wrists, tugging you forward so you’re on your knees. Another one wraps around your waist, pulling backwards as the first one continues to pull your arms down to the bed. Soon you’re fully bent over with your ass up in the air and your wrists bound and stretched out over your head on the mattress. Next, two more tentacles wrap around each of your thighs, pulling them apart so that your pussy is completely exposed.

A shiver runs through you, not from the cold, but from anticipation for what the monster will do to you. Fortunately, it doesn’t make you wait long. One tentacle reaches up to play with your clit, alternating between flicking the bud and pulling at it with one of its suction cups. You moan at the sensations, trying to wiggle your hips for more but you’re completely bound, unable to move anywhere.

Two tentacles reach up and suction themselves to each of your nipples, pulling down so there’s a delicious tug on your breasts. The weight of the tentacles and your heavy breathing causes them to sway beneath you and you mewl in pleasure. As the other tentacle continues to play with your clit, wetness drips from your soaking pussy. Another one slides up along your leg gathering up your juices and plunges inside you, causing you to gasp at the sudden intrusion.

As the tentacle pushes deeper inside you, stretching your walls as far as they’ll go, the small bite of pain adds a delicious zing of pleasure to the already overwhelming sensations. When it’s completely filled you up, it pauses, letting you adjust for a moment. Once it senses you beginning to relax, it slowly pulls back out, almost to the tip, and then plunges all the way in again. Pulling out and shoving back in, it sets a rapid pace, the wet squelching sounds mixing with the cries of pleasure pouring from your lips.

As the monster continues to fuck you senselessly, you begin to feel an orgasm building. But just as your walls start to clamp down on the tentacle, it abruptly pulls out, simultaneously pausing its ministrations on your clit, and you cry out in despair. After a moment, it resumes teasing and fucking you, only to pause once again when your orgasm is almost at its peak. It does this over and over again, bringing you right to the brink and then pulling back until you’re a whining, needy mess.

Tears of frustration begin to build in your eyes and you think you’ve almost had enough when, instead of pushing back into your pussy, the soaking wet tentacle moves higher, up to your ass. You suck in a breath as it tickles the outer rim, teasing and flicking the puckered skin. You’ve never had anything there and you’re a little afraid it will hurt, but at the same time you trust this monster with your body and want to see what it will do.

Pressing the tip gently in, the tentacle pushes past the first ring of muscles and you groan at the new sensation. Slowly, it works its way further and further in, pausing every few inches to let you adjust to the new girth. When it reaches as far as it seems to be able to go, it pulls back out and then pushes in again. This time, it fucks you more slowly than before and you melt into the mattress, getting lost in the sensation. 

You’ve forgotten your earlier frustrations, too distracted by the tentacle filling your ass, until you feel a different tentacle begin to push its way into your pussy. Gasping, you try to wiggle away – there’s no way it can fit two at the same time, right? But of course, there’s nowhere for you to go and it continues to ease the second tentacle into your cunt while the first one keeps slowly fucking in and out of your ass.

Before long, both tentacles are completely filling you up, stuffing you to the brim, and you’re almost delirious with the overwhelming fullness. They begin to move in tandem, plunging in and out of both your holes as you whimper and cry out with each thrust. It’s almost too much, but at the same time you’ve never felt anything more amazing and you never want it to end. 

This time, when your thighs begin to tremble and your walls start to clamp down with your impending orgasm, the monster doesn’t stop. Instead, it resumes playing with your clit and you immediately explode. Stars burst behind your eyes as your entire body seizes up, white hot pleasure coursing through you. It feels like the orgasm goes on forever as you get lost in a hazy bliss and time ceases to exist.

Eventually, though, awareness begins to return as you start to come down from the high and you sag into the mattress, boneless and spent. Carefully, the monster eases out of you and releases its hold on your body. You’re almost sad at the loss of contact. But then it gently maneuvers you so that your head is resting on the pillow and pulls the blanket over you, tucking you in around the edges. As the tentacles start to retreat back under the bed, you reach out and snag one of them, holding onto it. 

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” You ask in a drowsy voice.

You feel it hesitate for a moment but then the tentacle winds up your wrist, grasping onto you. Smiling, you settle back into the pillow and begin to drift off. Before you’re fully asleep, you manage to mumble, “Will you come back again tomorrow night?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then, right as your awareness slips away, you hear an inhumanly deep, multilayered voice echo in your mind, “Yes, little creature.”

──────────────────

The monster is immensely pleased with this female it has chosen to mate.

At first, it wasn’t sure if the gifts left on various surfaces of her den were meant for it. But it took them anyways, wanting to indulge in the fantasy. Most creatures run screaming when they see the monster for the first time. Some even attack without warning. 

But not this one. To the monster’s delight, this delectable female was only startled at first. And when it tried to offer her gifts to soothe her fear, she eagerly accepted them! 

She even accepted its attempts to couple and let it touch her. 

Feel her. 

Taste her. 

She is utterly delicious.

And when she presented it with a mating gift of her own tonight, it knew for sure that she had accepted its offer.

As the monster settles into the darkness beneath where she sleeps, grasping her tiny delicate hand, it hopes that it can make her happy enough that she’ll never want to leave. Because even if she does, it will never let her go.

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[itsonlydana]

Sleeping In Their Clothes | hobbit / lotr

how they would react to finding you asleep in their clothes

characters: Thranduil, Bard, Aragorn, Legolas x fem!reader

warnings/tags: mentions of Boromir's death (Aragorn), age gap (Bard), romantic shipping

word count: 5,7k

an: trying something new! Have been struggling to write after some personal issues so please excuse the slow updates on this blog

requests: please check pinned post

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are much appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Thranduil:

Thranduil’s mood darkens the halls, clouds the air around him bitter and ashen. The elves he passes lower their heads at his strides, at his cloak billowing behind him as thunder rolls over the skies. No one dares to speak, no one dares to whisper or raise their voice at any volume below the hushed glances they share after he disappears behind a corner. The foul stench of anger and frustration traces his path, starting right in front of the doors he slammed after another day of negotiations and down the direct route to his chambers. 

He grits his teeth at the servants hurrying toward him and bellows a low: “Get out!” as hands reach forward and there’s enough fury in his eyes for the servants to scatter away like a heap of leaves blown apart by a particularly harsh wind. 

Even the thought of skin touching him when he is burning up… he shudders. 

There’s only one who he wants close to him right now.

He reaches out for you long before he’s in the bedroom, feeling for your fëa entangled with his in an inseparable union and he makes sure to be gentle, brushing you with his love rather than the anger bubbling hot inside him. 

The calling stays unanswered – a deep wave of security and comfort labs over him but by the tenderness of it rather than your usual playfulness, and by the time Thranduil sees the seethrough white curtains around the bed, he knows exactly what state you will be in.

And never one to disappoint him, your unconscious yet dreamy smile is all Thranduil needs to forget about the anger he yielded like a sharp sword; used to cut down any and all offers from the dwarfs and their stubborn and unreasonable trading offers. 

Instead of ripping apart conversations and insults, Thranduil’s hands are gentle as he parts the curtains and kneels on the feathery mattress with your shapes ingrained in it. All those nights spent close together and his warrior-heart will never fail to skip a beat at the sight of you wrapped in his robes. It’s one of the older, worn ones as well. Fabric that thins out at the cuffs – not that this would be a problem; you’re not close to reaching them –, a few cuts and holes in places twigs and branches bore themselves into the crimson, featherlight velvet. 

Thranduil sees your skin flashing through some of them. The one above your knee, drawn up, another one below your biceps, relaxed because you know nothing can hurt you here, and some more all over your chest, hinting that you are not wearing much else. 

He knows you well enough that you won’t be bitter if woken up and so he leans in closer from behind. One hand finds your head, cradling it into his large palm until you, still in dreams comfortable embrace, roll to the side and bury your face inside it, nose pressed right against his steady pulse while his fingers gently trace the curve of your ear. 

No time spent together will ever sicken him of this, your complete surrender into his care, the doubtless trust that wherever you laid down to rest, he would sit by and be there. The oath of protection is one Thranduil promised his folk the day he was crowned their King as well, not once has he doubted he would abandon it all for the vow he gave you the night you offered your heart and he gifted you his; you above all.

His thumb just brushes over your temple and the fine hairs that come loose of your braid when your lashes flutter, leaving him to readily dive into the pools filled with love and sleep.

While he maneuvers with cunning, a master of actions and power, playing a game of chess on a board he alone commands, you stand unrivaled with the art of words. Your tongue, sharp and precise, weaves wit and wisdom into every phrase. Whenever he acts rationally and leads by his heart, you would listen first, hearing out heart as well as brain, and come to a conclusion serving everyone. 

Your voice has the power to sway wars and balance the scales of battle. When you speak, your tone, thick with the remnants of sleep yet razor-sharp in purpose, reduces him to nothing more than a mere soldier—helpless in the face of your command, whether in war or love:

“I dreamt we were air.”

“Invisible?” Thranduil's voice is laced with a touch of curiosity as he revels in the warmth of your laughter, the puff of hot breath meeting his wrist like a secret kiss. Your presence is a balm, a reminder of everything that is tender and true.

“You, my love, know that this is not true.”

“It is not?” 

“No,” you whisper and press a kiss to the tender skin, lingering with your lips over the pulse and the veins rushing blood to the heart, your heart, inside his chest. A puppeteer of words. Even the silent ones. 

“I agree,” Thranduil muses, enticed by this playful exchange, “that the wind is what we notice, a fleeting glimpse of nature’s breath. But air – air is the unseen force that dances around us, invisible yet ever-present, until our souls merge with the very fabric of the universe.” He glides his other hand to your legs, slipping underneath his warmed robe. 

You squeak as he anchors his arm around your thigh and tugs you over to face him in a swift movement. Faced to lie underneath his larger figure, you shoot him a crooked grin. 

“You can see the air just as much as you can see the wind it turns into,” you start and get comfortable in his lap. Thranduil immediately jumps the chance to idly with the robe that’s draped all over your body. 

“In the particles that dance in the sunlight,” you continue, your voice soft and thoughtful, “in the flags that hiss and flutter. In the vapor rising from steaming ponds, and in the mist that clings to the earth in the morning fog.” He watches, entranced, as your palm flattens against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. “I see it here,” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath, and he follows your gaze as you watch your hand rise with each of his inhales and fall with each exhale.

Your fingertips, soft and gentle, curl slightly into the fabric of his current robe – soon, undoubtedly, those same fingers will find comfort in the folds of this robe, curling into it as you slip into sleep.

And in that quiet, intimate moment, he will see the air too, in the way your breath mingles with his, in the way your presence fills every space around him, making the invisible tangible, making the unseen profoundly felt.

The air catches in his throat and he sees your eyes twinkle.

Then, not looking away from you, he lies down as well. He has no need for the blanket crumpled underneath you both, the sight of you facing him, drawing your knees back to your chest and skin flashing whenever the fabric of his robes part to allow him these glimpses, is warmth enough. He loves you, even if you have a habit of taking what is his. A spray of his scents to drive him crazy, a feather that you take between your teeth as you write, or his robes but all of those mean nothing and all since you have him as well, fully and completely. 

So he will request ten new robes, in colors that you like, and await the day he gets to your bedroom and finds you sleeping in them.

“So,” Thranduil repeats slowly. His hand drifts to your face, trailing lines over the smile you give him. “You dreamt we were air?”

“Yes,” the corner of your lips quirk into a quick smirk, one that fades quickly yet leaves traces all over, “and we were invisible –”

“Oh, you little minx!”

“Ahhh – Thran, stop, oh I beg you, stop tickling me!”

Bard:

The brittle stairs heave and sigh, creak and groan under Bard’s boots, once honeyed planks now gray from the flow time, heavy rain and the dampness of the lake coloring the edges mossy green, and with the days passing by, the steps taken as he rushes down to work or tiredly drags himself up, one hand curved around the splintered railing, he wonders how many steps these stairs will endure before his house comes crashing down into the murky lake. 

This winter seems to be harsher than the ones before, with the wind howling loud at night and rattling on the walls that he wakes to frames shattered on the ground and the curtains ruffled even if the windows are closed. This winter, he swears the ice is thicker, a nearly impenetrable obstacle for his boat and his clothes are never warm enough but then, in the end, he knows the next winter will be worse and he doesn’t dare to complain out loud, doesn’t think it’s right to curse for hands shaking and feet aching and his nose running. 

As exhausted as he is, and Bard is, so exhausted, so tired, so drained, he’s mindful enough to skip the last plank of the stairs. He lifts his feet higher, ignores how the muscles in his thighs complain, and steps over the plank that always sounds like it’s waiting to break through, always moans the loudest when he needs to be quiet as if his state isn’t mockery enough. 

Bard slips through the door, opening it barely to keep the cold outside, and when he turns around, finally, warmth takes over. 

It starts in his hands, in the tips of his reddened fingers, exposed to nature's icy companions the moment he sneaks out to work before the sun rises. It creeps higher, up his arms and to his shoulders strong enough to carry his family more than he can hold himself, parting ways to fill his cheeks in the softest of glow, a simmering fire that colors his skin an ember-red and travels down through his swooping stomach, lightening a hunger he knows food will not sate, and when the heat reaches his feet, Bard releases a small sigh. 

There, in the low and flickering light of a candle burned down to a hardened wax puddle, his eyes immediately find you resting underneath the only window whose curtains are drawn open. Most of you is covered by a dark blanket, hiding your face but that doesn’t matter to Bard; he has every inch, every freckle, every crinkle of laughter and wrinkle of pain memorized. 

Not that he should; you’re kind enough to look after his children while he works, accepting no money and hearing no ‘buts’, and here Bard stands, a decade older, widowed and tired, and knows exactly that your mouth will be slightly opened and that your lashes will fan over the rosy apples of your cheeks and that your shoulders will ache because you rather sleep on the bench under the window than take away Bard’s pillow. 

Stubborn girl.

Bard crosses the cluttered floor, avoiding Tilda's drawings hung up to dry on the wooden ceiling beams and Sigrid's books and tomorrow, he will tut over Bain’s clothes left hanging on chairs and stools, but tonight he walks past them and their sight burns in his chest. 

As Bard gets closer to you, he nearly trips. 

That’s not a blanket that you hide your face in, that keeps away the winds creeping through the gaps in the wood behind you, that you use as a shield against the cold yet the greatest thing it fights are the walls Bard pulls up around his heart.

That’s his coat. 

The dark blue coat he left to dry over the oven after last night's rain. 

You must’ve taken it and that dismantles Bard into millions of pieces, chips away on his walls like nature takes layer after layer away from the stairs outside. 

While he can’t know when exactly the latter will be too much to take on any more pressure, he feels the heavy weight of his coat around your sleeping body, and just like the stairs, his personal defenses creak and groan, heave and sigh and crumble down around him in a thumping echo in his ears, that Bard fears his choked breath will wake you up.

He is helpless. 

He doesn’t dare to touch you directly, as much as he yearns to brush away the strands of hair fluttering in your even breaths. Bard’s hands are rough from his work and your soft skin deserves better than the callouses and scars he bears, so Bard gently lays his hand on your shoulder, covered by his coat – his coat, Lord how ever will he survive knowing the fabric kissed your body?

“Darlin’,” he whispers in a voice that’s horse and gravely, though it softens as he speaks your name, daring to follow it up fast enough there’s no room for a pause between the term of affection to be separated from your name.

You stir in your sleep, shift to reveal your face some more and the crease between your eyebrows and the effort it takes Bard to hold back from smoothing it out with his thump could have moved mountains. Bard ignores to notice how your nose is buried deep into the coat and that no washing could’ve ever cleaned the heavy fabric of his smell; he swallows hard. 

A low sigh blows away the hair and Bard’s eyes fall on the plushness of your lips. You wake up slowly, closing your mouth and you pull the coat tighter around you, holding onto it, while Bard lets go of his restraints.

“Darlin’,” he repeats, and this time you hear him enough to evoke a tired smile.

When you open your eyes and turn towards Bard, the candle flickers in the reflection of them. “You’re back,” you mumble into his coat, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

I know, Bard wants to say, I skip the last stair so the noise does not take away my chance to wake you up.

Instead, he shakes his head: “You shouldn’ be sleeping on this bench, it’s too hard and uncomfortable.”

“Eh,” you push yourself up into a sitting position, the coat still far too large around your frame and you don’t make any attempt to part from it, “This bench is sufficient enough for a short nap, and I–,” a yawn interrupts and you grin sheepishly, “What I wanted to say is that I wasn’t that tired anyway.”

“Sure,” Bard's laughter is quiet but fills the entirety of his lungs and his own lips mirror yours in a grin. 

The look you share in the darkness makes him feel like he’s young again, filled with infinite love for a limited body, bursting through his cells and flooding every vein, rushing blood that burns hot for you up to his battered heart. Bard can see your eyes wandering over his face and he wonders if you can tell that this smile is only for you and that he fights a lost battle in telling himself he can stop what’s tugging you closer. 

He leans in further and lets his hand fall from your shoulders to run his fingertips over his coat. His knees brush against yours, and Bard tells himself it's only the late hour that makes him tender, that his weary, overburdened mind is surrendering to the forbidden's allure in the quiet moments when no one else is watching. Yet, deep down, he knows this is merely the rationalization of a lost man, drawn to the woman who cares for his children who are not her own in some ways and are in others, who sleeps wrapped in his coat, and who gazes at him as though he could reach up and give her the stars he can see through the hole in his roof. 

“C’mon,” Bard nods his head toward the back of the house, an offer he speaks out every night, “I won’t let you go home all alone this late.” 

All other nights you shrugged his offer off, had him walk you home over the planks and gurgling water until you kissed his cheek goodnight and Bard snuck back to his home, falling into bed to fall asleep to an aching heart. He prepares for it now, the apologetic smile that usually takes over your face, the tilt of your head to hide your eyes, all of it is memorized to his memory and even though they’re always quiet he hears your “I can’t, I must go home,” like the drums of war that shoot the heart that beats for you.

He awaits it. He will ask again and again, no matter how desperate it makes him seem and how the hurt will take over and push him through the day only for the night to repeat itself.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Bard freezes.

You blink up at him, eyes full of sleep and dreams that shouldn’t have the image of an old man and his children in them, but you’re never one to listen to what’s expected from you. 

There’s no ache in his bones as he gathers you up in his arms, your head resting against his beating heart.

There’s no groan in his muscles as he carries you through his house and over the threshold to the little corner where he lays you on his bed, blue coat pooling over you as you smile and pat the small free space next to you. 

He doesn’t feel the pain of work, the exhaustion of days of darkness and the fear of surviving the night to get through the week.

Bard kicks off his shoes, discards his dirt-stained pants, and shrugs off the shirt dampened by water, ice, and snow. He vows that tonight, you won’t feel the cold. As he climbs onto the bed, the mattress dips under the weight of his trembling legs. You lift the blankets without hesitation, inviting him closer, and he accepts, silently aching for the warmth you offer. Your body radiates heat as you nestle in beside him, your smooth skin brushing against his legs. Almost timidly, you curl into him, your smaller form pressing against his chest and stomach. His arms wrap around you and when he allows himself to breathe a featherlight kiss onto your shoulder, he catches his musky scent left behind by his coat. 

“Sleep well,” he whispers into the crown of your head, feeling the fast beat of your heart under his hand, “my love.”

Aragorn:

Aragorn has been familiar with the pain of war ever since his father was murdered by orks when he was two. He knows how it flits through the body like lightning through water, cracking into all the ends of a being to render them helpless, burning through whatever energy and fight is left, and killing easily and efficiently. 

And yes, he has felt the pain of war on himself before, in the years he spent fighting as Thorongil under the hands of Lords and Kings in the West. Aragorn saw good men fall, saw better men than him die to the growing threat of Sauron and there has been a cloud of thunderstorm in his heart from there on.

Nothing hurts as much as the pain that took over your lovely eyes the moment you saw Boromir lying on the ground in colorful dried crunching leaves, pierced by arrows that had been aimed at you too, though that didn’t matter – to you – then. The scream that came next pierced through Aragorn blindingly white and he could do nothing but try to grab you, as you fell to the ground, scrambling away from his strong arms to get closer to Boromir, your weak efforts nothing but agony for him. You had cried bitterly, hitting Aragorn with curled-up fists and he took every punch, pulling you closer instead of pushing you away.

It only got worse when you realized the Hobbits were gone too. 

Aragorn saw the flame of hope flickering inside your eyes, a darkness of grief and pain behind them that he knew and yet he had no idea how to help you. 

He still doesn’t. 

The sun rose hours ago, red bleeding into gold, Boromir waving a last goodbye in the clouds, and the rustle of the wind brings shivers to the four of the Fellowship who are left. You’re setting up camp for the day; Legolas and Aragorn have not much need for speed but exhaustion can be a much crueler enemy combined with death and grief. Aragorn’s gaze wanders to you ever so often as you stand in front of the burning skies, staring at the pack that was once Boromirs and he casts his eyes downwards to where his heart aches. 

You suffer, obviously, and Aragorn, who fought for more years in his life than not, doesn’t know how he can battle your demons. 

If he could he would draw his sword and head into the fight, only return bloody-knuckled, the shadows wrapped between his tight fingers. He can’t though, and that may be what pains him more than the obvious heavy weight of witnessing Boromir’s last moments; his inability to take on your emotional baggage. It tears through his heart in aggressive jibes and stings like liquor on an open wound. 

This is why he’s the first volunteer when Legolas suggests splitting up. 

Aragorn nods at Gimli and they disappear into the forest, leaving Legolas who rests even less than Aragorn, and you, the walking example of why avoiding sleep after such traumatic events should be mandatory: your eyes drop, your hands shake and no amount of effort on your side is enough to hide the sacking of your shoulders. Every day that you walked further away from when you were nine – Mithrandir’s absence not accounted for – you distance yourself more, most likely to hide your suffering yet all that this behavior accomplishes is that Aragorn notices it all. 

How could he not?

He cares for you, most ardently, and these feelings brought forth a vulnerability, an open spot in his heart for love to slip in and make itself at home.

Aragorn leaves you in Legolas' care; the trust he places in the elf to protect you in your fragile state is grander than the one he has in himself. One soft whimper as you hide your face in your shoulder and stumble over feet that won’t listen and Aragorn might do something naive as pack his sack back up and hunt the orcs that took the Hobbits, the one coated in Boromir’s blood, on his own. 

It would be reckless, ignorant, a troubled journey without Legolas or Gimli or even you.

So Aragorn goes against his heart's urges and patrols – clearing the forest and trying not to think about your frail form, hugging yourself out of desperation and grief.

Gimli and he return hours later, under the warm rays of the sun – the gentle strings far too bright and calming for the last day's events, the wind a breeze swirling through the leaves crunching under his light feet and Legolas lifts a finger to his lips as soon as Aragorn makes eye contact.

He assures his steps are as silent as possible, avoiding the logs and twigs they would collect later for a fire to warm them, and walks past the elf, nodding his head and quietly thanking Legolas for keeping an eye on you. 

A hand lands on Aragorn’s shoulder, stopping him in his movement. 

“She’s asleep,” Legolas says quietly, leaning in closer, “We shall move forward when she awakes, rested.”

“No sooner,” Aragorn agrees and lets out a relieved breath that had been lodged deep inside his chest. He looks to the elf, then to the bundle of a small human shape underneath a tree. “Thank you, my friend.” 

“Aragorn, we need your focus as much as we need hers.” The grip on his shoulder loosens, and the weight stays in Legolas’ eyes and Aragorn almost winces, would he not know his friend only means well. 

His voice is gravel, his words soft and exhausted: “I know.” He didn’t know his heart had been such an open show but then, Legolas knows him like no other, a companion that found him and a friend that he can always count on, a partner in battle and nowadays, Legolas seems to have taken on the role of fates worst messenger – reminding Aragorn that this, you, the differences, the looming war and the ones that never end… 

When Aragorn approaches you, the pain he carries with him dims, a candle dying out in refreshing winds. Bending his knees, he carefully sits down, resting his back against the tree's rough bark covering your gentle face in dancing shadows and flickering golden spots of sunlight that kiss your closed eyelids. Around your shoulders and over most of your body, Aragorn recognizes the cloak he’d asked Legolas to stow away when Gimli and him took off. Now that he sees you, finally asleep, he is glad the cloak found a better use than being shoved inside a bag where it would have never touched your skin. 

He reaches out, soft and slowly, making sure his movements will not wake you and pulls off his leather coat as well, placing it across the uncovered part of your boots and legs.

Aragorn is tired but he will keep watch, protecting you to sleep safely.

He is weak but only for you, so he will fight harder than ever before to ensure the Hobbits return to see the smile he loves so much on your face again.

There is a possibility this will all change faster than any of you could realize, these times are unpredictable and there is a taste of danger on his tongue and in the air. The journey of the Fellowship has barely begun and already the sun bleeds into the horizon in colors that mark the grounds of battlefields awaiting you.

Aragorn clenches his jaw and only unclenches it when he hears the smallest of sighs. Looking down at you, he dares to smooth away some strands of hair, leaving a streak of dirt on your sunkissed temple. 

In the grand scheme of things, there is of course the need for the bigger picture and the importance of all that connects to this journey, but in this moment, surrounded by the sounds of the forests and your breathing, Aragorn takes comfort in knowing he has this moment with you to remember all the small things count just as much. 

A cloak to sleep in.

The shadow of a tree.

Even the pain seems to have fallen into a slumber, resting to surely come back and hit him square in the chest like it has never left him but Aragorn has never felt this free as in the pain’s short-lived absence. 

And he can hear it in the silence and in the way you keep his cloak close to you.

War brings pain but you bring love.

Legolas:

Legolas may agree that abandoning his father's task of informing Lord Elrond of the disappearance of their captive to travel through the lands and destroy a ring in Mordor – whether the Fellowship will make it this far is still unknown – but then Aragorn brought you to the Council and suddenly Legolas finds himself months away from his home, listening to your laughter as you flip rocks over the lake you’re standing in front of. 

He can not remember the last time he saw someone be this amused by the ripple of water and the stones skipping across the otherwise calm reflection of the skies that cause the growing disturbance. Then again, Legolas never met anyone like you in general and every aspect of your personality that he gets to watch unfold like the meadows you ride across, the hills you climb up, the more eager he feels to find out what makes you laugh.

Stones, apparently. 

“No, not this one!” you chime in and take the stone he picked up out of his hand, your skin brushing his and sending ripples over his skin. 

“No?” he inquires and tilts his head in genuine confusion. “This one seems perfectly adequate for this, no different to the ones you chose.” 

You scoff, giddy giggling followed. “That’s outrageous! Calling this one adequate when it's clearly in no shape to even compare to these –” you lift your hand to his face and present the collection of rocks that you seem to keep in the pockets of your vest, a grin blooming across your face, “Look! They’re thinner, perfect to hop.. hopefully, four times?”

Legolas smiles, one that’s more tugged into his cheeks and corners of his eyes to really be called one. “I will leave you to find what you think–”

“I don’t think,” you interrupt him and roll your eyes, already turning your back to him again and bending your knee slightly. You turn your head over your shoulder and the sun reflects beautifully in your cheeky gaze, “I know. I feel. Look!” Then you twist your arm, pulling it into your chest at an angle before flicking the stone across the lake.

Five times.

You cackle loudly. 

And Legolas picks up the stone you thought not to be perfect and slides it into his pockets, ignoring how his heart skips five times.

The day flies by like the stones dance over water, fast, too fast for Legolas' liking yet by the time the sun burns low on the horizon, he is glad for the calmness that settles over the little camp they’d set up earlier. The others are scattered around the fire crackling behind Legolas, the warmth creeping into his bones and settling high in his cheeks, as he turns his head slightly and catches you staring out onto the water; the red fire and golden sunset basking you in a glow that pulls him into you like busy bees to the sweetest of flowers.

He can’t help but stare, even if it’s everything but appropriate. Your face is lit up, not only by the embers fluttering to you and the last of the sun's rays caressing the fullness of your cheeks but ever since you decided to tag along on this journey, nature bathes you in an aphrodisiac of wind-swept hair that Legolas wants to braid, rosy fingertips that he wants to hold and kiss each one of them. Whenever he looks at you – he could not tell how much, time is a rush of emotions, a whirlwind of hair and laughter, hands playfully slapping him and he counts the days by how often you blink up tiredly after waking up rather than the sun sets and rises – he is astounded of the beauty someone could possess and carry it out freely like it sits in your heart and not in your face. 

The sun sets and your eyes are full of wonder and molten gold, an open letter of your adoration for the nature that equally loves you back. 

Behind him, Legolas hears Merry and Pippin sing, hears the low chuckles of Aragorn, and lips that curve around a pipe, teeth clacking against shaped and glazed wood filled with smoke. He also hears your intake of breath as the wind swipes over you, gliding over the lapping water first, over the croaking frogs and wreathes around your naked arms. He hears the sound of your hand smoothing over the fine hairs that stand up on your prickled skin. 

He hears himself talk, before he thinks: “Here, this cloak will keep some of the cold away.”

Your eyes widen.

His heart skips five times on each breath taken in the moment of silence.

Legolas is sure that you would take the offer one way, but then you nod, lower lip pulled between your teeth as if that could stop the shy smile from tugging up the corners of your mouth, and you scoot closer, lifting yourself up by your hands and leaning in, until your shoulders brush his side.

He almost freezes, not because of the cold – this he can not feel, for multiple reasons, and mostly the advantages of being an elf though the warmth radiating from your body, suddenly so close to yours and the blush that he must blame on the fire – but because the way you slid into his side as he holds up one side of the green cloak leaves only the option to drape the fabric over your shoulder and awkwardly pull his arm away or–

There must be some of his father's braveness in Legolas for he lowers his arm around you, shaking ever so slightly. 

You sigh, contentedly, and draw your legs up to your chest. “Much better at this than skipping stones,” you mumble and a tired yawn accompanies your huff of laughter. 

Despite the teasing tone, Legolas can’t stop his smile. “Is this.. perfectly adequate?”

“No,” your head drops and maybe you don’t notice but you rest it on the arm, oblivious to the halt this causes to every single thought Legolas has ever had. “This,” you whisper and he can hear the flutter of your lashes trying to stay open, “is just perfect.”

All Legolas can do is hum in agreement, and even this sounds as shaky as his words would have been had he any of them readily and not swallowed up by the swarm of butterflies swooping through his stomach.

The sun disappears behind the line of trees on the other side of the lake, throwing one last wink of gold over you both before the silver light of the moon laps over you like the waves onto the shore. By the time your hair twinkles like the stars you seem to have lost the fight of keeping your head up; it rests against Legolas, just like most of your upper body that followed one last yawn. He sits still, not daring to move much now that you’re this close to him, your nose against his chest, the bones of your knees resting against his thigh, and all of you enveloped in his cloak.

The fabric rustles slightly as his arm slips from your shoulders to your middle, tugging you closer to keep the heat encased in this cloak and moment you’re sharing.

Legolas's other hand glides into his pockets, finding the stone hidden inside. His hand wraps around it, pressing the smooth surface against his palm.

“Perfect,” he repeats.

[staarri]

its you! ( in each minute, second… its always been you )

c. various haikyuu characters

t. fluff, gn!reader & male characters only. wc : ?

the first kiss was quick; almost as if it never happened at all. maybe you were shy—or maybe he was shy. either way, one of you will go home regretting the decision of pulling away too fast. unfortunately, that someone will be him. no matter what you do to try and change it—he will always regret not doing enough for the first date. maybe it’ll stay that way until he gathers enough courage to kiss you the second time. oh, what a dream! he thinks to himself.

🏐 — kageyama, yamaguchi, kenma

surprisingly on the bolder side. he took initiative in almost everything; inviting you to eat here and there, took you to places to take pictures and create fun memories. it felt more like hanging out with a friend with the sense of familiarity and trust you have with each other, even on your first date together. he didn’t try to do much when it came to physical affection (aside from hand holding, if you allowed him to.) but he did attempt to give a small kiss at your doorstep when you were home.

🏐 — hinata, sugawara, nishinoya, bokuto, kuroo, oikawa

the first time he met your parents, he was (well, he seemed) painfully, incredibly non-chalant about everything. he paid for the dinner and gave gifts (including a bouquet for them.) your parents approved of him shortly after, seeing how much he cared about this little meeting being perfect in many ways. he double checked the reservation and had another date as backup incase they weren’t available, he took care of the flowers and made sure to personally hand make the arrangement, and even wrapped the gifts in little boxes with bows on them. it went well, of course it did—but the moment the two of you went back into your shared home, he collapsed on the couch right on top of you, arms wrapped around your waist loosely as he takes a deep breath. as if relieved the moment was over, because little did you know, it was as nerve wracking to him as it was for you.

🏐 — iwaizumi, asahi, daichi, akaashi, tsukishima

[nehi-soda]

Bound in Bloom -

Jackson!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

Summary: Joel Miller never thought he’d find peace, not after all the years of running, fighting, and surviving. But here you were, standing in the kitchen of your farmhouse, your belly swollen beneath his favorite sundress on his birthday.

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, farmhouse!joel, dad!joel, established relationship, pregnancy, talk about your body changing, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), mention of unprotected P in V sex, creampie, smut, fluff, soft!joel, pet names (baby, darlin'). No use of Y/N. Mood board is for aesthetics only; the reader's features aren't specified.

A/N: I just know this would be Joel's DREAM, so I wanted to gift it to him for his birthday (and you cannot tell me this man does not have a breeding kink). Yes, Joel, you can keep me barefoot and pregnant, sweetie.

for @justagalwhowrites' joel miller birthday celebration (I chose Jackson Joel and breeding kink).

The soft morning light filtered through the kitchen window, painting everything with a golden haze. The sweet smell of cake filled the room as you stood at the sink, hands submerged in warm, soapy water, humming to yourself as you scrubbed the last of the cake mix off the various utensils. The worn farmhouse floor creaked beneath your bare feet, familiar and comforting. The air outside was still and quiet, except for the occasional rustle of the wind through the tall grass surrounding the house.

It was peaceful out here. Away from the chaos, from Jackson, from all of it. Joel had finally given in to the idea of a quieter life. After years of running, fighting, and surviving, he got what he'd wanted— a simple life. And you, you were part of that dream, tethered to him in ways you’d never been able to escape since the moment you met him.

Your little floral sundress clung to you a little differently now, tighter around your hips and shorter than it used to be, the fabric barely grazing mid-thigh. The hem lifted just slightly as you shifted, the soft cotton pulling tighter across the swell of your belly. You absently brushed your hand over the curve and smiled softly.

You didn’t expect to outgrow your clothes so quickly, but the last few weeks had caught you off guard. It seemed like overnight; your belly had swelled, pushing at the seams of your favourite dresses and making your jeans a distant memory. Lately, you’d been relying more and more on Joel’s t-shirts and flannels, the worn fabric soft against your skin, offering that extra room you needed. You liked the way they smelled like him—like woodsmoke and fresh pine, wrapping you in his presence even when he wasn’t there.

You could see it in his eyes every time he caught you wearing something of his —how much it did something to him. How the sight of you in his clothes, with your belly rounding beneath the fabric, lit something deep inside him.

But you didn’t try to get pregnant.

There wasn’t some grand plan, no careful conversations or conscious decisions about what you were doing. It had been the way he groaned when you begged for it, the way his breath hitched and his grip on your hips tightened like he was holding on for dear life. You loved the power it gave you, how those simple words could unravel him completely.

“Put a baby in me, Joel.”

You’d whisper it in his ear in those moments when he was deep inside you, moving slow and steady, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, sweat beading on his brow as he tried to keep control. Sometimes, you’d say it soft, barely a murmur against his lips. Other times, it came out all breathless, a plea mixed in with the sound of your moans. Sometimes it would be a loud scream.

And every time, it hit him like a goddamn freight train.

You felt it in the way his body would react—his hips driving harder, deeper, as if your words unlocked something in him, something primal. He couldn’t hold back when you said it. The way his voice would break, that low, guttural groan spilling from his throat as his fingers dug into your skin, his grip almost bruising, made you want him more.

“Please cum inside me, please, please, please…”

“You want that, huh. Want me to fill you up?”

And you did. You wanted it so badly in those moments; the idea of being swollen with his child, of him claiming you in the most permanent way, made your entire body burn with need.

His movements would become more purposeful as if he was consumed by the thought of it too.

But you weren’t trying to get pregnant. Not really. 

You just loved the way it made him lose himself, how he’d bury himself so deep inside you, hips flush against yours, as he came with a broken moan, spilling himself into you over and over again, filling you up as you’d asked.

You could hear him behind you, the sound of his heavy footsteps announcing his presence before his hands did. You smiled to yourself, letting the warmth of the sun match the warmth that spread through your chest. There was something so comforting about his presence—solid, dependable.

“Morning, darlin’,” his voice was rough from sleep, but there was something softer there, too, the edge he used to carry dulled by the peacefulness of this new life. His hands found your hips easily, warm and firm as they slid over the fabric of your dress, fingers grazing the swell of your belly like it was second nature to him now.

“Morning,” you murmured, smiling as he leaned in closer, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

“How’s my girls?” he asked, his hand resting protectively on your stomach, thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of you.

From the moment you’d found out, Joel had been convinced you were carrying a girl. His baby girl.

“They’re just fine,” you teased, leaning back into him, letting the warmth of his body sink into yours. “She’s still baking.”

Joel chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter.

"You look real pretty today," he murmured, voice gravelly and thick with that Southern drawl. You felt his hands slide across you in a slow, deliberate grip, the curve of your waist sliding down to rest on your widening hips. His breath was warm against your neck, the thick scrape of his beard sending shivers down your spine as he planted soft kisses along the sensitive skin there. His touch was slow, tender, not rushed—like he had all the time in the world; like you were something precious.

“Gonna need to get you some new dresses soon,” he murmured. “Can’t have you walkin’ around in this one when it’s barely coverin’ ya.”

"You used to love this dress. Couldn't take your hands off me when I wore it, remember? Are you saying I'm getting too big for it?" you laughed softly.

“Nah,” he whispered, “Just sayin’ you’re growin’ right where I want you to.”

"Well, I wore it especially for you. Happy birthday, old man." you teased, raising your hand to dab bubbles on his cheek before giving him a soft kiss. You bit your lip and focused back on the dishes, the feel of the soap between your fingers suddenly became more acute. But it was hard to stay focused when his hands were moving like that. His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress, teasing, lifting it ever so slightly.

"Joel, I’m almost done—" you giggled, but the words caught in your throat the moment his lips pressed against that sweet spot just below your ear. His hand slid higher, bunching the fabric, exposing more of your thighs, the cool air brushing against them.

“Good, 'cause I want my birthday present now." he growled softly between kisses, his voice low and rumbling. His fingers danced over your thighs as his mouth continued its slow, deliberate assault on your neck.

You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, your body already responding to him, the ache growing with every passing second. He knew it too—the way you shifted slightly, pressing back against him, craving more even as you tried to stay focused.

“So damn beautiful.” he whispered, his voice full of affection, his lips brushing your ear. A hand slid higher again, teasing along the edge of your underwear now, and you could feel your breath hitch, your whole body tensing.

You tried to protest again, half-hearted, knowing it was useless. His fingers slid beneath the thin fabric of your panties, brushing over your folds, finding you already wet with need making him groan softly.

“Always fuckin’ ready for it, huh?” he muttered, his fingers moving with a slow, torturous rhythm that had your knees trembling. “You were made for me, made for this, to carry my babies.…”.

All you could do was hum in agreement and let out a breathless moan, your head falling back against his shoulder as the pads of his rough fingers traced hypnotic circles against your swollen clit, the sensation overwhelming. His breath was hot against your ear, his free hand cradling your belly with a kind of possessive tenderness.

“God, you drive me crazy.”

He kissed your neck again, harder this time, nipping and sucking, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. You could feel him growing harder against your back, the heat of his body pressed flush against yours.

“You want me to stop?” he whispered, his fingers still moving in slow, agonising strokes. He knew the answer before you even said it, his voice thick with a kind of smug satisfaction that only made the heat between your legs burn hotter, your pussy fluttering around nothing.

“No…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, dizzy with need.

“Didn’t think so,” his voice deep, and then his fingers dipped lower, slipping two fingers inside you, pulling a soft moan from your lips, filling that ache you always seemed to have inside you that only Joel could satisfy.

"That’s it, mama, let me take care of you.”

You could hear the soft squelch of your pussy, accepting his fingers over and over as Joel gently swayed you in his arms.

Just when you were getting lost in his heavenly touch, he pulled them out making you whimper, your pussy clenching at the sudden loss. A firm hand between your shoulder blades pushed you forward, your pulse thrumming with anticipation.

Your palms braced against the cool surface of the sink as your body instinctively arched for him.

You felt him sink to his knees behind you, the rough denim of his jeans scraping against the wood floor.

You could barely catch your breath, the feel of his hand sliding down the curve of your ass, his fingers gripping the fabric of your soaked panties, tugging them down your thighs. You gasped as the cool air hit you, your legs spreading automatically.

He pressed his lips to the back of your legs, kissing his way up slowly, reverently, as if he were worshipping you.

“Goddamn, baby,” he groaned, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

His mouth was on you before you could even register the heat of his breath, his tongue slipping between your folds, lapping up the wetness. You let out a moan, loud and breathless, your body jolting forward as the first wave of pleasure hit you like a lightning bolt. His hands were firm but loving on your hips, pulling you back just enough so he could fit his mouth where you needed him most.

He groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your entire being as his tongue slid over your sex, slow and demanding. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t devouring you like a man starved. No, you were a luxury that had to be savoured.

His tongue dragged a long deliberate stroke from your clit to your entrance. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you steady as he began to devour you, his mouth relentless, his tongue dipping and circling with a precision that left you shaking.

“Joel.”

His name was all you could manage, and it came out in a desperate moan.

He fucking loved how his name sounded when you moaned it.

He pressed a kiss to your swollen clit, soft and tender, before sucking it gently between his lips.

Your head dropped forward, your body trembling as the pleasure built inside you, hotter and hotter, until it felt like you were going to explode.

“Oh, fuck…” you whimpered, your fingers digging into the edge of the sink till your knuckles turned white, the pressure inside you building faster than you could handle.

Each lick was thorough and purposeful, his tongue exploring every inch of you like he was committing it to memory.

“God… Joel… feels so fucking good.” You could barely speak, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as his mouth worked you over.

You rocked your hips back, settling his tounge further into your cunt.

“Mhm, mhm,” Joel hummed against you, his hands gripping your hips tighter, pulling you down harder onto his face, his words vibrating against the overstimulated bundle of nerves. “Atta girl, just like that, let go, baby.”

You could feel the orgasm building inside you, the heat coiling tighter and tighter. You were right there, teetering on the edge, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he pushed you closer and closer.

“Joel… I’m gonna—" you tried to warn him, but it was too late. The orgasm ripped through you like wildfire, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you as you cried out and came hard on his tongue. But he didn’t stop, didn’t slow, drinking every drop of your release until you were spent, legs giving way, chest heaving.

When he finally pulled away, you were a quivering mess and could barely stand. You felt your juices dripping down the inside of your thighs and shivered.  

Joel wiped his mouth on his sleeve before he rose behind you with a groan. “Jesus, I'm gettin’ too old for this.” His hands slid up your thighs pulling your panties back up with him. His large arms settled around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

"Don’t be too worn out," you teased, your voice soft, still giddy with the afterglow. “Ellie and everyone are coming over, remember? And we’re having cake!”

“Baby, you know…I'm feelin’ a little full, actually.” He joked.

Your jaw dropped incredulously at his vulgarity before he planted kisses all over your flushed face.

Each year, when he blew out the candles on a small cake you’d make from whatever ingredients were available, he’d always wish for the same damn thing: To keep loving you.

 And if he were extra good, maybe he’d be given another shot at fatherhood. 

Joel knew that this year, even if he never let himself fully believe he deserved it, you had already given him his greatest wish.

divider credit to @mikeykuns

[cutielando]

Lactation kink with lando to help him sleep🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

lactation | l.n.

warnings!!: lactation kink, nipple play, titty play, sloppy handjob, grinding

my masterlist

He couldn't help it.

During your pregnancy, he couldn't help the awe he felt whenever he felt your breasts in his hands, so swollen and full and ready to feed his child.

He found you insanely sexy even before pregnancy, but imagine what he felt once you were swollen with his child, your curves and beauty even more appealing to him than ever before.

He loved you, every little part of your body, but your breasts would always top the game.

You would often complain about them, saying they were always sore, heavy and swollen.

"Lan, my boobs hurt so much. Can you please help me?"

Absolute music to his ears.

Once you gave birth, the phrase gave him even more of a rush. Because of you breastfeeding your little girl, all of your shirt had wet spots where your nipples were, the excess milk always finding its way to your shirt.

Lando went feral every time he noticed.

He didn't know why he found it so hot, or why it stirred such a reaction out of him. Maybe because it reminded him time and time again that you were the mother of his child, that you gave him the best gift he could have ever received.

"You look tired" he stated one night, coming into your bedroom after he'd put the baby to sleep.

You sighed, running your hands down your face and then putting them on your breasts, who were once again swollen and full.

"I always look tired. Besides, the baby didn't eat all that much tonight so I'm swollen again" you grimaced as you pressed onto your left boob, wincing at the pinch of pain you felt.

Seeing you massaging the boobs that he had become so obsessed with got Lando going, once again. He licked his lips, his jeans gradually straining against his crotch as all the blood traveled down to his cock.

"Want me to help you out?" he asked, and you nodded without a second thought.

You didn't think much of it. In fact, you would be lying if you said the sight of Lando massaging and sucking on your boobs didn't make you wet and craving for him. Your hormones were going crazy when you were near him, whenever he would touch you where you needed him the most, but nothing made you as wet as him sucking the milk out of your boobs did.

"Lay back for me" his husky voice said, quickly working to discard every last piece of clothing from his body.

Your breathing quickened as you watched him get naked right in front of you, your hands unconsciously flying to your shirt, taking it off and throwing it somewhere on the floor next to Lando's clothes.

He slowly stalked over to you and laid down next to you on the bed, his fingertips slowly inching upwards across your body to where you needed him the most.

"So beautiful" he whispered once his hand reached the underside of your boob, leaning down and pressing a kiss to it. "And full" another kiss. "And all mine" you gasped when he wrapped his lips around your hardened nipple, his other hand gravitating towards your other boob, playing with your other nipple as he started sucking on your left one.

You gasped at the sensation of Lando stimulating your nipples, the pleasure coursing through your veins like adrenaline. Nobody had ever made you feel like Lando has, the reactions he got out of your body and the things he could make you feel sometimes made you think you were living a fairytale.

But in moments like this one, with his tongue running over your nipple and his hand twisting and pinching your other one, milk oozing out of your breasts and into his awaiting mouth, you knew you weren't dreaming or imagining anything.

"Oh God" you moaned out quietly, not wanting to risk waking the baby.

Your moans did nothing but spur Lando on, the driver more determined than ever to please you out of your mind. He sucked harder on your nipple, the milk filling his mouth and making him moan out.

He was incredibly hard in that moment, his cock poking at the side of your thigh. With your eyes still closed, you reached out with your hand and wrapped your arms around his rock hard cock, feeling every vein pulsing with need against your hand.

You slowly started pumping his length, using the oozing precum as lube to lather him up. He started sucking you with more drive while you were jerking him off with a passion.

"Please, baby" Lando whimpered out, unlatching from your left nipple for a second before diving in to your right one, his hips now grinding against your hand.

You moaned out at the intense feeling of Lando sucking on your boobs, squeezing his length while pumping it faster and faster.

"Oh God" Lando moaned out all of a sudden, his grip on your boobs tightening as his hips started grinding faster against your hand before he stilled, ropes of cum painting his stomach and your hand.

You both panted, hearts beating out of your chests. Lando slowly let go of your boobs, pressing a kiss to each of them before he fell back on the bed next to you.

"That was amazing" you breathed out, making Lando nod before getting up to go to the bathroom to clean himself up.

Once you finally caught your breath, you found your discarded shirt on the floor and put it on, getting under the covers and waiting for Lando.

A minute later, he emerged from the bathroom, turned off all the lights and got under the covers with you.

"Thank you" you whispered, cuddling up to his warm body and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"Anything for you, mama" he pressed a kiss on the top of your head, settling in bed and closing his eyes.

You both drifted off into a deep slumber, Lando happy and content as your milk kicked in and allowed him to finally get some rest.

Who knew that was all he needed?

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[stellawish]

bunnies and penguins

genre: fluff fluff fluff warnings: just satoru being good dad idk :o pairing: dad!gojo x mom!reader

As soon as you closed the door behind you, Satoru looked down at his son and cooed, "Looks like it's just the two of us, buddy," he pinched his plump cheek. "Haru, Mama went to have fun with Auntie Shoko. What are your plans for today, buddy?" Your three-month-old baby looked up at his father and blinked a couple of times.

Summer was in full swing. The July heat was intense. Satoru trudged towards the refrigerator. After stocking up on some cold soda and snacks, they headed to the living room. Sitting comfortably on the large sofa, he placed Haru on his left thigh and wrapped his arm around the little boy.

While he sipped his grape soda and flipped through the channels in search of something interesting, he paused for a moment when a bright advertisement appeared on the screen. Small animals, the characters from Sanrio, bounced up and down on the beach. Haruo squealed with delight.

Satoru noticed that his son's attention was focused on the screen, and he yelled again when the white character—Cinnamoroll—appeared on the TV. "You like him, Haru?” he kissed his chubby cheek. “Huh oh right, he looks like your favorite plushie."

Since day one, Haru has always slept with that one plushie. When you were still pregnant, Gojo won you it at a festival. As soon as you held it in your hands, you decided that this bunny was meant for your son. Since then, it has always accompanied him during his daytime naps and nighttime dreams.

Satoru stroked his son’s chubby belly and glanced at the time. "Snack time, baby." He put down the empty soda can and stood up with Haru, heading towards the refrigerator. With his left arm he held his son close while his right hand reached for the milk.

Satoru warmed the milk and checked its temperature by dropping a couple of drops on his wrist. After ensuring that it was fine, he returned to the living room. Turning off the TV, he cradled the baby in the crook of his arm and brought the bottle to his small lips. Haru immediately grabbed the bottle with both hands and began to take big sips. Satoru chuckled "Take your time, buddy. I know mommy’s milk is very yummy but we don’t want you to have a tummy ache" he said, stroking the baby's plump cheek with his thumb. The gentle sounds of feeding filled the silence of the living room

Satoru looked down at the fluttering white eyelashes and the thin eyebrows. His heart was filled with a such an overwhelming wave of tenderness. This is his baby. Yours and his. Although several months had passed since his birth, Satoru sometimes looked at the tiny bundle and couldn’t believe that he was really here.

The fruit of your love, the symbiosis of you and him, was here. Now, he gazed at his son and thanked the universe and God for such a precious gift. He gently took his son's tiny hand and began to examine his small fingers. "One, two, three, four, five." Five little fingers. He brought his tiny hand to his face and kissed it gently.

Then he softly ran his fingers over the baby’s plump leg, tickling his tiny foot. The little one smiled without looking up from the bottle. "One, two, three, four, five." He counted his tiny toes. This habit of his had started since Haruo was born. When they brought him—tiny, red, and screaming—to Gojo, he couldn't believe his son was here. Later, he lay in bed with you, and together you gazed at your baby. Satoru was struck by how tiny his fingers were.

Haru moved, pulling Satoru from the depths of his memories. He looked at his son and saw that the bottle had already been emptied. He set it down and carefully picked up the child, placing him on the shoulder. He began to stroke his back gently until he heard a distinctive grunt. "Good job, buddy"

beep-beep

He turned his head and saw that his phone was behind the pillow. He stretched out and took the phone in his right hand. A message from you appeared on the screen.

my goddess 💘😫

hi toru. shoko and I already met up. we're heading out for coffee.

You send a selfie with Shoko. Satoru opened it and smiled. "Baby, look! It’s mommy and auntie Sho!". He pointed the screen at the baby’s face, and the little one cooed.

what are u guys up to? 👀

Satoru opened the camera on his phone and called to his son, "Hey, baby, look here! We'll send this photo to Mom." Gojo grinned and made a peace sign while baby looked up at the camera.

we got bored so we decided to watch some tv

He send the picture and u replied,

aww my cute babies😘

A bit later, Gojo reheated the yakisoba you made, while baby lay in his rocking chair, making soft gurgling sounds. After finishing his meal, Satoru picked up the Haru and carried him to the nursery. "Time for a nap, baby," he said, kissing baby’s soft cheek.

After changing the diaper, he opened a drawer with onesies. Every time he looked at the tiny clothes, Satoru's heart fluttered with cuteness. "Haru, should we choose this one or this one?" In his left hand, he held a tiny white onesie with small yellow ducks, and in his right, a grey onesie with a penguin on it. The baby cooed. Satoru raised his eyebrows. "With a penguin? A wonderful choice, baby."

After that, he sat down in a rocking chair and began to rock gently, stroking his son's small back. The baby in his arms started to yawn.

Satoru ran his lips through his son’s thin hair sniffing his sweet baby smell. He softly touched his forehead with his lips, along with his tiny nose and plump cheeks. Satoru couldn't get enough of his adorable son.

A few minutes later, the baby's eyes began to close, and his breathing became steady.

Satoru continued to admire his sleeping son for a bit. As much as he loved holding him, he knew he needed to make a work call. For a few minutes, he remained seated, savoring these moments of closeness with his son. He carefully stood up and placed the sleeping baby in the crib. Gently, he ran his finger along the child's cheek and adjusted the bunny plush. After ensuring the baby monitor was set correctly, he quietly closed the door behind him.

more dad!gojo HERE

hey guys you liked previous post so here we are! if you want more dad!gojo and mom!reader let me know I will gladly do more! and as i said before english is not my first language soo yeah

reblogs and comments are highly appreciated guys<3

tags: @3lliesrifle @achbbys000 @happytreetale @mashtura

dividers by: 2. @enchanthings

[cloudwisp]

Husband Wriothesley, who teases you for being a lightweight when you’ve only had one glass of wine during date night as he makes the journey back home with you on his back. You’re an adorable giggling mess, unable to contain your love and affection you reach around to smooch his cheek and playfully bite his shoulder because that’s what he does to you—words alone can’t express just how much you adore this man and you have to channel it through other means. He warns you that if you keep giving him bite marks he might just drop you and loosens his grip to make it seem so. He chuckles at the sound of you squealing as your arms and legs tighten around him and he readjusts his hold on you so you’re secured once more. He wonders how such a sweet thing like you can cause so much trouble. Not that he’s complaining, he actually finds it quite endearing.

Husband Wriothesley, who kneels down to help you slip on your heels after you’re dressed in a gown to attend the evening shows at the opera epiclese. You’re holding onto his shoulder for support while he moves with ease to slide your foot into your beautiful new pair of heels—his fingers gently wrapped around your ankle and thumb rubbing soft circles against the bone for a moment before he works on the other one. If only he could trail kisses up along your leg and inner thigh, but he supposes that will have to wait until later tonight unless he wants to get an earful from you about not wanting to be late. All your husband asks for in return is sweet kisses from you, when you both kissed plenty not even ten minutes ago but it seems he can’t get enough of his darling wife.

Husband Wriothesley, who begins to make drafts and plans for a summer house surrounded by greenery with breathtaking views on the first year of marriage. It’s a different kind of life compared to the apartments next to the bustling streets in Fontaine city, along with the Fortress also being your second home. He includes all the features you’d want in a dream home. Like a stargazing room with glass ceiling panels so you can admire the stars and moon at night. A secret library where you can hideout and bury your nose in books for hours on end, or even a beautiful porch on a wooden deck with cushioned chairs overlooking the verdant field where maybe someday you both can watch your children play together. Wriothesley is more than willing to give you everything you want and more in this lifetime and he always make sure each gift counts.

[guiltyasreid]

high heels ll spencer reid x reader

warnings/tags: non, fluff, total fluff, fem reader, prince charming spencer reid word count: 1226 a/n: this is so not me I can run in heels so have fun with this one.

You were used to wearing boots, booted heels, platforms, and trainers. Never in your life had you thought you'd wear stiletto heels. It was fine, you could walk perfectly fine if you were on a flat surface, the pain wasn't even that bad.

Stairs?

No. Stairs were your biggest enemy in them. Up or down, you were like a new born deer.

"Are you sure you don't want to just wear another pair of shoes?" Spencer asked as he watched you wobble down the stairs of your apartment building.

You gave him a stink eye.

"Fine, but don't ask for my shoes later on." He gave you a look, and you smiled, taking his arm.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Doc." You giggled as you walked to the car.

Both of you were dressed formally, Spencer in his nicest black tux and you in a black satin dress that fell to your midcalf. The FBI had a dinner every couple of years just to celebrate. Spencer and you both knew it was just an excuse for an open bar. 

The drive there was easy enough. It was not far, the two steps into the hotel, you held Spencer's arm for dear life.

"Just up the stairs."

Your heart dropped at the sentence that came out of the receptionist's mouth. You looked towards the grand staircase that was heading up, in that moment, you were sure you'd end up falling down them. Spencer was clearly enjoying your sense of dread, its as if he was waiting to say 'I told you so.' 

"Come on." Spencer tugged you along, and you tried not to trip over your feet.

You started delicately taking steps up the stairs, again holding Spencer's arm. He looked amused at your struggles, but when they got to the 10th step, he sighed. It had taken you 3 minuets to climb them.

You let out a shout as he scooped you into his arms, carrying you up the stairs bridal style. Your arms automatically wrapped around his neck as you went red.

"I couldn't watch you struggle any longer, it was hurting me deeply." He spoke. You tried to hide your smile in his suit. "You definitely are liking this."

You smacked his chest with one of your hands. "Shut up."

You did enjoy every moment of it. He gave you another cheeky smile as you hit the top of the stairs. Delicately, setting you down. You brushed off your dress and gave him a bright smile.

"Thank you." You whispered, already feeling eyes on you both. You fiddled with his tie for a moment.

"Anything for you." He kissed the side of your head before allowing you to take his arm again.

The night went usually. Greeting people you knew, moments where you were on the small room for dancing. Spencer had wandered off somewhere with Derek while you stood with JJ and Will. "How are the shoes?" JJ asked, staring down at her feet. She was the one who'd gifted you them.

"They're nice, but I think most of the time I'm trying not to fall to my death." You let out a chuckle.

JJ gave you a sympathetic look. "You get used to it, I promise."

A tap on your shoulder made you turn around. Spencer stood with his arms behind his back and a cheeky smile on his face. You narrowed your eyes, wondering what he was up to.

He held out his hand dramatically, bowing slightly. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

Your cheeks heated, and you grinned. "Why, of course." You mock curtsied at him as he pulled you onto the makeshift dance floor, where a few people were swaying together.

JJ and Will were joined by the rest of the team, and they all watched them dance together with soft expressions. You giggling at his dramatic flairs to the dance. Him making sure you were only focused on him, it wasn't hard, he was the only one for you. His hair was pushed back slightly, his face had its usual light stubble, he looked like rugged prince charming.  

"Another side to him comes out with her." Derek spoke, a chuckle coming out as he sipped his drink.

Your squeal was audible when he twirled you out quickly, pulling you back in and dipping you low. "You're going to make me fall." You shook your head amused. 

"I'd never let you fall." He smiled back, kissing the side of your mouth. "If I did, I'd always be there to catch you."

"You're so cheesy." You giggled in his arms.

"I'm lactose intolerance." He quipped back, you snorted and pressed your head to his shoulder.

Will smiled at the pair and their antics. "I'll be surprised if they're not married by the end of the year." He spoke out loud.

"It's November." JJ reminded.

Will shrugged. "Like they'd ever have a traditional wedding, they'd probably get married by an Elvis impersonator, with ring pops." JJ laughed leaning back into Will.

"You look wonderful." Spencer whispered as you swayed together.

"And you look magical." You whispered back, he hummed leaning his head on yours.

The night dwindled down, You and Spencer didn't let go of each others hands for the rest of the evening. You said your goodbyes to everyone, making sure to remind the rest of the team about your Christmas party.

As soon as you started making your way out. Spencer scooped you into his arms again, everyone's eyes turned to the pair of you as he rushed out with you in his arms.

Will nudged JJ to look at what Spencer was doing. JJ raised her eyebrows. "Okay, maybe you'll be right." She muttered.

"You like doing this more than me." You laughed as he made his way down the stairs. One arm under your knees, the other under your arms.

"I admit nothing." He replied, kissing your cheek. You hid your face in his neck as he continued.

As soon as they hit the last step. You were sure he'd let you down, instead he kept walking towards the door. "What are you doing?"

"Taking you home, my lady." He replied, giving you another cheeky smile. His eyes were bright staring at you with love in his eyes.

The doorman opened the door with a smile on his face. You wiggled to be let down and he let you down softly laughing at your scowl. You shivered at the cold. He took of his blazer, quickly wrapping you up.

"You don't have to do that." You replied, about to start taking the blazer off. Instead, he just scooped you up again, not caring about the looks he was getting. "Spencer!" You laughed smacking his chest.

"Just enjoy it, I am." He grinned down at you. You rolled your eyes leaning into his shoulder.

Will was right. Three weeks later. Spencer and you announced you two were married at your Christmas party.

Pictures of you with a Elvis impersonator, two red ring pop rings on your left hands. There was pictures of you kissing while dipped. Him holding you bridal style with a bright red lipstick stain on his cheek, and a bright smile on both of your faces. One where you were holding Spencer bridal style, your face red and Spencer trying to hide his face with one hand. Then another where you both had your foreheads together just cheesing at each other. 

[cursingtoji]

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 — 𝓜𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓵𝓮 𝓖𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭

ᥫ᭡ Suguru never thought he would see the girlfriend he murdered years ago when he decided there was no space in his life for non-sorcerers, yet he never said anything about her lost soul.

cw: ghost! f reader x cult leader!geto, reader can’t speak much, invisible fucking (?), oral, fingering, squirting, exhibitionism, body worship, praising, one quick mention of impregnation, slight violence (towards someone else), reader gets jealous of Suda, mentions of buddhist rituals and the antichrist (separate events), poor death jokes. 6.2k words (not sorry). #— cult-tober

ᥫ᭡ inspired by lady k and the sick man — hentai manga (read it at your own risk).

note: thank you everyone who asked about the status of this fic, you encouraged me to finish it <3

Geto knew what he was doing the day he decided to cut everyone out of his life. Some of them, such as Gojo and Shoko, he just cut ties, others, he took their lives.

The people from that despicable village were first, then his own parents, and lastly, his girlfriend.

He would be lying if he said any of these killings made him feel bad, but the one that got closer to hurting him was, of course, yours.

Already numb from the previous deaths, keeping you alive wasn’t really an option.

Though Suguru was gentle, he waited for you to fall asleep while cuddling him after kissing his face and emphasizing how well rested he looked.

“Getting back on your feet, eh?” your words.

He didn’t think he would keep thinking of you, in that moment and the following years he was so focused on his long term goals and new discovered hatred that he managed to push you to the back of his mind.

Now he’s established, he has quite a lot of donors to his cause, a loyal group of sorcerers that share his vision and to top it all, the strongest set of curses that any curse user could only dream of.

Reaching such a satisfying point of his life makes him reflect upon the things he doesn’t have.

When Geto rests his head on the pillow at night he remembers the couples he sees through the day, the teenagers confessing when they can’t even look into each other’s eyes.

Naturally, he thinks of you.

The two of you were different, he took your hand and looked deeply into your eyes, you looked back, for many times after that you tended to look away whenever he said something suggestive or romantic, or even when he stared into your eyes for too long, and Suguru made sure to bring your eyes back to him.

Why couldn’t you have been born a sorcerer? You didn’t even need cursed energy, if you could only see curses that would be enough to him.

Geto sighs, it has been a few months since he started to think of you so frequently.

He’s a man of needs, from time to time he indulges himself into masturbating since sleeping with a human is out of the question and sleeping with a fellow sorcerer would only bring complications into his so-called family.

So, in the mornings, way before any of his duties, he takes the box from under his bed and sprays the perfume you used to use on the pillow beside his. He had an internal fight before buying that perfume, a girl was offering samples outside a store and once the scent reached his nostrils he was invaded by memories he thought he had buried years ago. He bought the bottle nevertheless, shaking his head sadly when the lady asked if she should wrap it as a gift.

The liquid in the bottle hasn’t decreased much, since it lasts quite a long time on his sheets. He sprays once in the pillow, or on his shirt, the one you used to steal from him all the time cause it was your favorite.

His boxers are pushed down, sometimes he fists his cock while looking at the pictures in his box, your pictures, unfortunately he had no spicy pictures, back when you were together nudes weren’t so common, not when you couldn’t password protect a digital camera and flip phones cameras sucked.

He uses the smiling pictures you insisted on taking on your dates, he usually was flipping, or had his tongue out

His favorite is the one you took in a photo booth, the first picture he somehow convinced you to show your tongue with him, the second both of you were laughing, the third you were kissing.

Those three pictures, plus the smell of your perfume is enough for him to remember that kiss vividly.

He teases his tip, thinking about how soft your breasts felt under his hand.

He couldn’t kiss you like that and just leave the photo booth, he had you on his lap, the confined space added to the risk of being caught was so exciting.

Geto spills his load on his stomach, his mind still playing the memory of him kissing your neck, while you caressed his hair urging him to soften down quickly so you could leave the booth and go back to your place. He put his arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple and getting a playful slap on his chest. You didn’t like pda, “people look at us weirdly” you said, but were the first to take his hand or pout when didn’t put his arm around you.

Geto is about to fall back asleep, it started to rain outside, he should be up in an hour but he’s feeling too nostalgic, in a bad way, so the association would have to go through the day without him.

Suguru turns to the side, the rain makes him remember the day you met him at his dorm, for what was supposed to be a date, but the weather changed so you cuddled on his single bed giggling about what would happen if someone knew you, a non-sorcerer, was inside such a exclusive facility like jujutsu tech when you shouldn’t even known it existed. Suguru kissed your face, cheeks, nose and lips, and assured you he would fight anyone that dared to say you were not welcome there.

He promised to keep you safe, in simpler times, when he had a best friend and a future as an ally of the jujutsu world.

Suguru feels a lump on his throat, but he swallows it, allowing his mind to fade away and muscles to relax as he’s back asleep.

Apparently, he needed that few more hours. Suguru is awoken suddenly by a loud, trembling sound. He looks around confused, hating to be woken up instead of waking up naturally, his eyes open slowly expecting the sun, but outside is dark, Geto’s head snaps to his alarm clock wondering how he could have slept till so late, but it says eight in the morning still. What started as a rain turned into a full storm by now.

Suguru jumps from his bed, in order to close the window which had already soaked part of his carpet.

“Shit” he closes the glass window and attempts to turn on the lights, but nothing happens, probably a blackout due to the storm.

His bedroom turns cold, colder than before he closed the window.

A lightning illuminates the sky, and by consequence, his room, he sees a figure on the corner before getting swallowed back in the dark, he rubs his eyes sensing something is off.

The blue cursed energy light takes its shape around his hand, whoever/whatever thought it was a good idea to enter his room is about to regret.

He can see a shape, raising his hand to hit it, concentrating his energy on his fist.

Lightning strikes again.

It illuminates a face. Your face.

Geto’s hand is stopped in the air, his eyebrows leave the frown state and his mouth is hung open.

The electricity returns, his lamp casting a warm light into the bedroom.

He can fully see you now, taking a step back and lowering his hand.

Your face is much paler, hair is longer, like all the years that have passed to him passed to you too. That if you hadn’t seen the sun, or cut your hair, if you were alive all this time or… dead, as it looks, a phantasmagoric version of the girl he used to know.

You have a white dress — or more like a nightgown on —, it’s long and the straps are thin, looks comfortable. He hopes you felt comfortable all this time.

Geto says your name, in a whisper, rubbing his eyes again and wondering if he’s still dreaming.

You brace yourself slowly, as if you’re the one scared in this situation, he watches your mouth parting but closing again.

“Is it really you?” he takes a step closer but you take a step back hitting the wall, “Are you… afraid of me?”

Your eyes widen, they look opaque, shineless. Then you furrow your eyebrows, turn your hands into fists and hit his chest.

“You’re mad, I get it, I deserve it” he lets you punch him groaning angrily, never saying a word, he wonders if you can even speak.

“C’mere” he wraps his arms around you when you start to whimper.

Suguru considers actually being crazy or dreaming, cause you still smell like your old perfume.

“I’m not sure what is happening, I don’t really care, just please don’t go away” he tightens his hold on you believing you could disappear anytime, “You heard me? I was calling your name earlier” he lets go to caress your face, it’s still weird to look at your face when you have this bluish hue instead of the warm cheeks he knew.

You look away, exactly like you did when he said something naughty. So you did hear him when he was touching himself looking at your pictures together. Then he remembers something new, a conversation you had about whether he would find another girlfriend if you died, the type of thing a girl asks in a relationship when she’s bored. That or if their boyfriends would still love them if they were a worm.

Suguru doesn't seem to remember his answer, though he knew you had a tendency to get jealous easily.

“Not sure how much you saw all this time, but just so you know I’ve never been with anyone else” he assures.

Your gaze returns to him surprised, you didn’t know as it seems, he feels like asking questions, how long have you been around? What do you remember?

“You’re cold” he rubs your arms and your strap slides down allowing him to notice your breasts and your nipples marking the fabric, “I’m picking you up, alright?” and he does, wondering if you’re lighter or if he’s got stronger.

Suguru places you on his bed, now a much larger and more comfortable one than the one he had in his jujutsu tech dorm. He lays with you and covers you both with a duvet as you wiggle on his hold trying to find that position you liked to cuddle at.

“You’re so soft” his hand runs on your thigh, “I missed you so much” he squeezes you smelling your hair and kissing your temple all the way down your cheeks — which are way warmer now — until he meets your lips which he starts to peck lightly, though the pent up energy and the way his heart aches for you doesn’t allow him to take this slowly, instead he’s quick to deepen the kiss rolling his tongue with yours and pushing your straps down to fondle with yours breasts.

You whimper and try to move your legs from under him, with no success as he’s drunk on the feeling of having your body under his again.

Such sensitive nipples hardening under his fingers, the taste of you, yours hands pushing his—

He’s pushed off the bed with more strength than he ever thought you would have. You get rid of the duvet and kneels down to where he lays on the floor, he thinks that’s all a play until a very real hand slaps his face, harshly, then you run and disappear through the wall.

Suguru sighs, noticing his boner and resting on the floor.

“…then we’ll be all set, Geto-sama. Geto-sama?” Suda asks, noticing how deep he’s in whatever he’s reading.

“Thank you, Manami” he dismisses her, not taking his eyes off the book.

Geto decided to do some research, to understand how it was possible for you to have appeared to him.

Turns out, in all the books and archives he has of the jujutsu world, there’s only one explanation for why a human would have come back after death.

He cursed you, somehow.

Reversing the curse.

He closes the book when seeing the title of the next chapter, that’s not what he’s interested in.

Geto closes his eyes massaging the bridge of his nose, that day’s duties are already giving him a headache.

A hand manifests out of thin air, touching his cheek. Definitely something worthy of a jump scare, but after an initial surprise, Geto softens his features and puts his hand on top of yours.

The rest of your body manifests slowly, you’re on top of the table he was reading at, your legs dangle on the side, your hair covers part of your face and it’s long enough to reach the table's surface.

“Hello, beautiful” he brushes the hair away from your face, your thumb rubs his cheekbone, the place you hit the day before, it’s not sore or even bruised, the only scar that it left was an emotional one and he senses you’re apologizing for hitting him, though he’s the one that should be begging your forgiveness.

“I’m sorry about last time, I got too excited to see you again and forgot the most important thing” he took both your cold hands and kissed your knuckles, “To apologize, for taking your life” he’s not capable of looking up, not yet, “I’m sorry.”

He thought if he should do that for a long time, since he doesn’t regret the things he’s done to get where he is today, and Geto believed that if you had the chance to go back in time to do things differently and still wouldn’t do it, you couldn’t say you’re sorry for what you did. And he would do it all over again.

He is sorry for you though, he’s sorry for crossing your life and revealing all the things you shouldn’t know in the first place, he’s sorry for depriving you from a normal life, unaware of the existence of curses and sorcerers.

“I’m glad you’re here now” he rests his head on your lap hugging your hips and bringing you closer.

You caress his hair, minding the bun, his hair is also much longer than the last time you saw him, you always said he should grow it out since his hair was so naturally lustrous. He teased you, asking if you were jealous of his gorgeous hair. Now, he snorts, remembering the conversation and untying the half bun so you can run your fingers freely.

Geto, with his head still on your lap notices your feet dangling happily, one on each side of his. He reaches for your right one, brushing his fingers on your sole causing you to squeal, he laughs softly, seemingly you’re not able to speak, only to express yourself through little sounds. His hand wraps around your ankle then rubs the extension of your calves until he reaches your knee, pushing the hem of your dress just enough to expose your thigh for him to start kissing.

“We don’t have to do anything okay? I just want to touch you” he rubs his cheek on the skin of your thigh, like a cat asking for affection.

Your hands leave his hair and his heart beats faster assuming you’re about to leave him, instead you take the hem of your dress and lift it up all the way to your hips, revealing your uncovered pussy to him. The afterlife must be more comfortable without underwear.

Geto grins, accepting what you’re offering him, pushing his chair enough to give him space to dip his head lower and further into your legs.

You being the good dead girl you are, lean back and spread your legs watching with wide eyes the black head of the cult leader getting lost under your dress.

He starts by kissing your folds and rubbing the space between your hips and thighs, taking a mental note of how warm you get when touched by him.

Suguru nuzzles into you, rubbing the tip of his nose on your clit while you squirm. He takes your ankle and helps place your foot on the table to give him more room to eat you out.

What a sin it would be if someone so good at sweet talking others was bad with his tongue.

Thankfully that’s not Suguru.

He quickly drives his attention to your hole, teasing it until he feels your hand gripping his hair, he spreads your flexed leg further and pushes his tongue in, not being able to hold back a moan when he feels you contracting around his muscle.

His nail is digging on your thigh, which he can tell you desperately want to close, still so sensible even after all these years.

Soft breaths echo through the library, Geto feels bad for not being able to hear your beautiful moans, maybe there’s a book about giving back ghosts their voices? Well, the whole thing is a work in progress, but right now he’s too busy to progress that far.

You tug his hair twice, “What’s that, love? Trying to say something?” he keeps his tongue still, pressing it in your bud and shaking his head slightly, he can hear you’re trying to say something over breathy gasps, “You beggin’?” he chuckles on your core, the vibrations make you want more so you raise your other leg, “Who am I to say no to my girl…”

Suguru slides both hands to your lower back, holding you still and kicking his chair back to kneel and be more leveled with your cunt.

He loved to finger you, seeing your face contorting and kissing your tears when you orgasmed on his hand, but he loves more making you cum with his mouth only. Felt so much more intimate, it was the same difference of killing someone with a weapon and with his bare hands. Not an analogy many people can understand, but makes perfect sense to him.

Suguru laps at you like a mad man, sucking and using teeth, every tool he has to give you the orgasm of your lif—

The best orgasm you ever had.

And he knows it’s working due to your shaking thighs and arching spine.

He’s almost without air but when he notices your curving toes he tells himself to endure a bit more.

“Oh it’s coming” and soon he’s rewarded with your throbbing clit on his lips and a clear liquid being sprayed on his chin and chest. Being the tease he is, he laps at your swollen bud a bit more till you have to push him away.

“Sweet” he murmurs, kissing your shaking thigh and admiring your swollen glistening folds. You lay back to recover from the mind blowing orgasm and he sneaks a hand to grab his phone, opening the camera but frowning his eyebrows when nothing but the table getting reflected in his screen. Apparently phone cameras don’t work on ghosts “Too bad, guess I’ll have to remember the sight” he rests his head on your thigh and reaches a finger to caress you like he’s drawing on your skin.

“Geto-sama, we got another check” Suda pushes the door and you sit up quickly, but her eyes are solo on Geto, a questionable look on her face, probably noticing his disheveled hair and his kneeled position on the floor, “Is everything okay?”

Suguru blinks, shifting his eyes to you and her, doubting if his fellow sorcerer really couldn’t see the half naked woman dripping on the table.

Maybe even sorcerers couldn’t see it all.

“Yes, you can give me that” he got up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, taking the envelope and closing the door.

When he turns back you are gone. Geto sighs and bumps his head on the door.

Still managing to deal with everything that has been happening, Geto goes to the scheduled meeting in a bad mood, not having seen you since the library incident the previous day.

He’s the last one to arrive, sitting cross legged on the mat at the head of the table. Suda is on his right, taking notes on the meeting, which is boring Geto to no end.

Suda leans in, whispering a question to Geto and showing the notes while the rest of the people discuss financial matters.

“Did someone open the window? It’s so cold all of the sudden” Suda rubs her arms and Geto raises his head from the hand supporting it.

The room did get chiller.

He looks behind his shoulder and sees you, under a different light, a darker one. Your hair is floating and your face is dark, he can only see your widened eyes, they’re fixed on Suda.

Geto raises an eyebrow and discreetly pats his lap smiling at you.

The dark aura around you fades off a little bit and he can see your beautiful features again while you move your bare feet in his direction and take a seat between his legs facing him. In a natural motion he runs his hand on your hair and kisses your forehead, hoping it actually looked natural and not like he was patting an invisible person.

“Geto-sama, is this correct?” Suda leans in again, pushing her cleavage into Geto’s view and invading his — unknowingly also yours — personal space.

Your head turns almost 360°, the scary things you do only turn Suguru on more. The dark aura is back again.

“Don’t be jealous” he whispers very quietly.

“What was that?” Suda asks leaning in more.

You turn the rest of your body in a ghost-like manner, reaching claw-like hand to Suda’s face.

“Yes, Manami, please pay attention” he takes your hand, guiding it slowly to his pants so you could see how happy he was to see you meanwhile his other hand raises your dress and massages your folds.

You lean back on his chest, he puts his chin on top of your head looking down at your beautiful legs extended under the table.

“Isn’t that right, Geto-sama?” Larue asks and everybody turns their attention to their mentally-checked-out leader. Geto notices you tensing up, like their attention is on you too. Which would be if they could see you.

Afterall, who wouldn’t want to see a gorgeous little thing melting by having her clit played with under her dress?

You two never took things out of the bedroom, so the recent days have been nothing but new experiences.

Swiftly, Geto hooks his finger on the top of your dress bringing it down and exposing your breasts to, in reality, no one but himself, still you squeak and try to cover yourself but Geto is faster, holding both your hands behind you.

“Sounds great” he smiles at the people waiting for an answer about a topic he couldn’t care less about, instead he’s more concerned about moving the two fingers inside your gummy walls.

They get back to discussing it among themselves, Geto pretends to pay attention looking at a fixed spot and missing the way Suda is looking at him.

You don’t miss it though.

That’s how you’re supposed to look at him, you only.

It’s borderline outrageous to see her so heart eyed at your man while he’s finger-deep inside your cunt with his erection poking your lower back.

Jealousy starts to take over you again, Suguru is still holding your arms, so you use your leg to swing a move on the water jar on top of the table, shattering it and spilling the water all over Suda.

Everyone gasps, raising from the table and removing their paper to avoid getting wet too.

“What was that?!” she yells.

“Seems like we have a naughty ghost around” Geto jokes, pinching your clit, “Or it’s a sign from heavens to end this meeting, Suda please try to save these notes” he motions to her soaked notepad, “Close the door on your way out, I’ll clean this.”

“But Geto-sama—“ he knew someone would protest it.

“We’ll continue tomorrow” he said firmly, everyone bowed respectfully before leaving the room.

“Tsk tsk, that was unnecessary” he lets go of your arms, you turn around, kissing your man and pushing his chest until he’s laying on the floor with you on top.

Geto puts his arm around you, keeping you close while playing with your tongues, he’s strong enough to hold you tight, not letting you get away from him.

Your hands go to his complicated clothing, trying to undo the knots of it and free him for you to touch.

“Here, I got this” he undoes everything that needs to be undone with one hand while still holding you, you finish pushing his clothing out of his body until every fabric that once wrapped him is thrown all over the floors of the small room.

Finally, you could see him.

Geto kisses your ear and sucks your lobe while you run your hand over his torso, a faded memory coming to your head when you touch the x shaped scar on his chest. It’s much lighter now, you remember it being a shade of purple and red, holding back your tears at the time for seeing your lover hurt like that. He ensured it was nothing, he barely felt it due to the adrenaline.

At the time you wished you were there to take care of him, to patch and clean him, now you realize you wouldn’t be able to survive if you saw him bleeding and unconscious.

Maybe it all happened for the best.

You touch his abdomen, following the happy trail down to his shaft.

Geto is so strong now, he’s big enough for you to feel small even being on top of him, his thighs support you and his strong arm ensures you stay close.

You take his dick in your hand, kissing his neck and pumping him slowly. Suguru throws his head back, moving his hand to hold your ass as you work him up. Not that he needed much, from the moment he saw you crazy jealous over Suda he was hard already. No, actually, scratch that, from the moment he saw you, he was hard already. His heart beat faster, pumping the blood that went straight to his dick.

“Alright, baby, I can’t wait anymore” he pushes your dress up, getting you completely bare like him and moving your hips until your cunt hovers above his throbbing cock. You sink on him biting your lips, a habit from when you actually had a voice to moan and thought you should keep quiet.

Geto though, moans for the two of you, not caring if anyone hears him ‘cause he’s the boss, what would they do?

The feeling of your pussy around his cock is all he can think now, if you asked him to release all his curses right now he would.

God, he missed this. No toy would ever come close to the real thing.

Geto can’t help but admire your long hair, it is like a waterfall, running through your body and pooling on his torso. He takes a strand and plays with it around his finger.

“You’re still so tight, move your pretty ass for me, yes?” you nod, adjusting your posture and setting a rhythm, “That’s it, good girl” he holds your breast, rubbing a thumb on your perky nipple and raising enough to take the other one on his mouth.

Whatever important things he had that day, it’s all canceled now. His new plan is to stay buried in your pussy and sucking your tits all day long.

“You’re doing so well, baby, but I’ll take charge now, ‘kay?” he reaches behind you to brush away the glass remains and places you on top of the table carefully, “You’re so cute” he bends to kiss you, your hands caress his back muscles, thighs holding him inside you.

You don’t let him go away, not even for an inch, not even when you need air… do you really need it though? What would happen if you didn’t breathe? Die? Hah.

“So needy” he laughs softly and pecks your lips actually needing air, now he’s the one with long hair falling on your face, you brush it back and nibble on his chin, clenching around him as he hits that delicious spot.

Suguru is so pretty. Back then he had a boyish look and young charm, now he’s a man, his jawline is stronger and he lost some fat he had on his cheeks, too bad because you loved to kiss his soft cheeks. His arms are way bigger now too, when he readjusts himself to fuck you on a better angle you get a view that no sculpture in the world would ever compare. Light shines behind Suguru, his chest glistens with sweat, some strands of his hair sticking to his perfect skin, the sight of his v line alone makes your clit throb.

Geto stretches you so well and perfectly, “So good, baby.”

He's an angel, you’re convinced. Makes sense now, this is your heaven, being beside him forever, getting him to touch you in front of other people without feeling shame, haunting women that look at him with lust in their eyes.

“Nnnhg Sugu—“ you slap your mouth shocked by the actual words that came out.

“Fuck” he grabs your face kissing you hard, “Say that again” he asks thought a breathy almost desperate tone.

“Su—guru, Suguru” you moan, barely using a real voice.

“Fuck, I’m close. Can I come inside, baby? Huh?” he presses your belly down, “Maybe we should test whether you can get pregnant, that would be a miracle right? Or maybe we would have the antichrist” he smirks in a teasing way and you lightly slap his chest, not liking the idea of bearing the evil, although if he keeps thrusting like that you might change your mind.

Your legs tighten around his small waist, pulling him closer, “Squeezing me so well, I— haa“ he shuts his eyes, “‘Wanna cum with you, love” he lowers his hand to where you meet rubbing your clit with his thumb, you raise your hands to his shoulder pulling him to you until your sweaty foreheads touch.

Geto can see through your rolling eyes you’re close so he speeds up his thumb while thrusting sloppier.

“Still feels like our first time, you know?” he confesses, in love with the way you feel, not just your insides but also, your smell, your warmth, your sounds. All his sense are focused on you.

Your knot finally unties, nails sinking on his shoulder and heels pressing on his back, your mouth is hanging open while Suguru nuzzles on your cheek, “I’m losing my mind” your hips roll trying to meet his thrusts, he cums hard too, moaning majestically and filling you so much you know you won’t be able to hold it all.

“Oh baby” he runs a hand on your face, kissing you lovely. You kiss him back, putting in the gesture every word you cannot say.

Suguru was still trying to manage his duties as a leader and as a boyfriend, at least that’s what he thinks he is since you don’t exactly have the privilege to see other people and he doesn’t even want other people.

The thing is, unlike a normal (alive) girlfriend, you can’t go with him anywhere. To be more specific, apparently you can’t even leave the premises of the temple, the furthest you can go is sitting at the engawa and dangle your feet off the edge. Suguru promised to find whatever was keeping you there and figure a way to have you around him wherever he is.

Now, he’s in Hokkaido, after holding you cold dead hands and promising he would be back soon. In the meantime you explored every inch of the floor where Suguru slept, trying to find some item that was tying you there, with no success. So you begin to wander into other areas of the temple, with Suguru gone there isn't that many people around either, and even though no one can see you, it still felt weird being around other people, especially when someone walked through you.

When you enter the praying room you notice someone there, sitting on their knees in front of a buddha statue.

Curiosity takes the best of you and you approach the man, wanting to hear what he's praying for, you bend your torso beside him, having your long hair touch the floor, you suppose it would be a scary sight, but you doubt anyone except Geto can see you at this point.

You adjust your posture, but being clumsy doesn't go away with your physical body, so you stumble and end up hitting a gong.

And of course, it doesn't go through you as it's supposed to. Whoever is in charge of deciding the moments you can touch the physical realm is a sadist.

The man who was praying is now standing up shaking like crazy, he’s asking who’s there but you cover your mouth (as if you could speak anyways). A second man enters the room, due to his traditional clothing you judge he’s an authority figure in the temple, but not being a buddhist during your lifetime you can’t be certain.

The first man is explaining what happened while you try to tiptoe your way out of this embarrassing situation (for you and scary for the man that will probably not sleep tonight).

Before you leave you can hear the second man saying this sorta thing has been happening around the temple, people are reporting a sudden cold air, things being moved out of the place and crying sounds during the night.

All your fault of course and half Geto’s fault on the last statement.

Not sad cries by the way but you can see why people would think that.

In fact, Suguru was very determined to have you voicing your pleasure, you still can’t talk, but he learned that through a very strong emotion your voice cords become stronger or at least existent for a brief moment. He’s still testing that and writing his experiments in a notebook.

Suguru says he wants to bring you back at some point but for now he can only do those kinds of experiments, you are happy to be beside him no matter what so you naturally accepts being his guinea pig, the initial resentment you had when you first saw him that day is long gone now. Is not like you have enough energy to think about your death anyways, at some point during the day you become extremely sleepy and eventually disappear, so you have to make the best out of your time with Geto.

Being back in his room you find your way under his blankets, the previous interaction seemed to have drained your energy, you should tell Geto about that so he can write it down in his notebook.

Finally.

Geto opens the car door before the vehicle fully stops at the entrance of the temple, it was only 2 days but he felt like weeks passed by.

And it wasn’t just a homesick feeling, he barely had a home. He just missed you. For years he was by himself, being satisfied with a few pictures and a perfume bottle, yet now he has the real thing — you —, one day without you hits harder than the almost ten years that went by.

It’s punishment, he knows it, the guilt must be felt, he didn’t feel it for ten years so he’s gotta feel it all in two days.

If only you could have a phone in the afterlife to facetime him…

None of that is important now, because he’s back and on his way to find you.

What he finds instead is concerning.

A familiar man with traditional clothes holds a cord and repeats a buddhist chant. The floor he lives in smells weird, in the corner of the room you have your hands around your ears, sitting on your knees and glitching like a scene playing in an old tv during a storm.

“S-Stop” he hears from you, in a strangled hoarse voice.

Suguru’s heart stops for a second, considering for the first time the chance of you being taken away from him. Again.

No, that won’t happen. That exorcism will not continue.

His heart is back, beating at its fastest now, he summons a curse, one too strong for a simple monkey, he blames his emotions for that but he smiles when he sees the half body dropping on the floor.

Your eyes are closed, hands still covering your ears, when you open them — after realizing the awful pain in your heart and head is gone — Suguru is standing in front of you, kneeling and smiling kindly.

He takes your head, running his thumb on your cheek before kissing you, trying to engrave the shape of your lips on his.

“Keep your eyes close for me, beautiful” you obey, keeping them shut when Suguru manhandles you into his hold and gets up, bringing you to his bedroom and away from the dead body, afraid of the bad memories it may bring you.

“There you go, i’m sorry about that” he kisses your forehead sitting down at his chair with you, “Guess it’s too dangerous to leave you alone, huh?”

You snuggle on his embrace, happy to finally have him back to warm you.

Through a whisper — since that’s the loudest sound that can possibly leave your lips — you confess “I missed you” Suguru pulls you away to look at your face, you can see he’s surprised you managed to speak, he also notices the glassy look in your eyes.

“I love you” your eyes widen, it’s the first time since your death he says it.

Since your death?

“I can’t say I'm sorry” he kissed your cheek and closed your still opened eyes “but I can say I love you, i’ll always love you.”

The memory makes your eyes water.

Well, maybe it’s not the first time since your death, but the first in your afterlife.

“I’ll do whatever it takes for us to stay together.”

🏷️ @rinntvrou @sad-darksoul @grsveeth0m @getomybeloved @sakurasimppp

note: my inbox is open for theories about this au, you can also check the #ghost!reader tag. also keep giving me ideas and i’ll keep writing 🤭

[demonvibez]

Showering with Diavolo

Characters: Lord Diavolo x GN Reader Word Count: 2.3k+ Rating: Mature/Explicit [MDNI] Tags: a lil fluff, unprotected penetration, outercourse, fangs/marking, gn body parts A/N: Received this request as a comment under this fic so of course I had to write a lil headcanon/drabble about my husband, lol. Anyways, hope y'all like this - I could go on about Showertime Dia forever ♡

-> Typically Lord Diavolo has to adhere to a very strict schedule, his life filled with routine. Sadly, his hygiene regiment is no different - quick fifteen minute showers, six days per week, with the exception of his weekly bubble bath. 

-> Most of his showers are quite quick and methodical, starting with his hair and working his way to washing his body. At the end of the fifteen minutes, Barbatos is usually there to greet him with his towel and uniform, eager to get the Young Master's very busy day started.

-> He has probably been gifted every hair-care and body gel to ever exist in the Devildom. But instead, his favorite is one you gifted him, and he is sure to use it everyday. The moment the musky-amber scent hits his nostrils in the morning, it reminds him of you, and he just knows he'll have a good day that day.

-> On Saturday evenings, however, the Prince has a little more time to himself - he pours himself some Demonus and settles into his jacuzzi-style bathtub, the water jets melting away the week's worries.

-> He usually uses the time to catch up on whatever popular shows he's missed, the television in his bathroom being a new addition. You had given him this idea - you told him that 'even the future king needs a little bit of me time,' and he started crafting an Akuzon order almost immediately after you walked off to class.

-> He lets himself drift off into his own peaceful oasis - too often falling into slumber, as thoughts of you turn into dreams. Lately though, he can't help but to feel like something is missing - that sitting in this jacuzzi makes him feel a bit lonely.

♡ "If only you were here with me now," he whispers to himself, before letting out a sigh and sinking beneath the water's surface.

-> Luckily for Lord Diavolo, the stars would soon align in his favor, and the fates would push you two closer together. It all started on a camping trip with the usual crowd from RAD. Diavolo had volunteered to help you gather some firewood - a rather simple task, one would think. Instead this task ended with the two of you running into a pack of wild hellhounds, and getting pushed into a mud pit while attempting to play with them. Barbatos looked rather perturbed when he saw the two of you arrive back at camp, but you assured him that everything was fine. 'Come on, let's get cleaned up,' you say with a smirk to a slightly shocked (and very giddy) Diavolo, your fingers entwining with his as you pull him towards the camp showers.

-> He isn't usually a shy demon, but when it comes to stripping down and getting into this shower with you, he can't seem to keep the blush on his face under control. What started as a nice shower together, washing each other's hair and giggling as you splash each other, ends with the two of you in a passionate embrace. With your legs wrapped around his torso, your lips collide as the cool shower's water cascades down Diavolo's toned back. It definitely would have gone further, had the two of you not been interrupted by Mammon and Levi banging on the door. (He did invite you back to his tent afterwards, so the night was not completely lost. Mammon and Levi were also lectured by Lucifer, 'for their shame and disrespect' as he puts it - but that's a different story.)

-> Ever since that night on the camping trip, your relationship has blossomed, and the two to of you spend as much time together as possible. You usually alternate between staying over with each other - most of the time you go over to stay with him in the Castle, but every now and then you are able to convince Lucifer that the House is clean enough for your Royal Boyfriend to spend the night.

-> The first time he stays over, of course the two of you shower together! You ask him if you should text Barbatos to bring over some of his shower supplies, but Diavolo insists on using yours, excited to smell like your signature scent for the rest of the day. He'll always insist on using your products - a light breeze of that scent helps him get through those endless meetings! (Although it does tend to make his mind wander...)

♡ Showers with Diavolo are always a mix of spontaneous and sensual. One moment you're splashing each other with soap suds, playing 'keep away' with the loofah…the next he has you pinned to the wall, unable to resist the way you look up at him, and he can't stop his lips from crashing onto yours. 

♡ It doesn't take much effort for him to pick you up, cradling you in his arms as the shower rains down onto the both of you - and now you can finally finish what the two of you started on that night camping; what Diavolo has been fantasizing about ever since. Your hands slide his damp crimson hair back out of his face, gripping it in the back as your tongues collide. You can feel Dia's thick throbbing cock teasing you, and all you can do is grind against him. 

♡ He slides into you so effortlessly - as if you were made for him. Your arousal made you putty in his hands, your tight little hole adjusting to him after only a moment - but you still couldn't help the gasp you let out at his size, your eyes widening at the sensation.

♡ Every thrust in this position feels new, an unfathomable pleasure previously undiscovered. A new high, with no sight of the top. Each stroke hits so deeply within you with an electric feel, the rush of pleasure getting sent up to your brain, overstimulating all of your senses. The euphoria continues to build, and you don't know if it will ever end - if the tension will ever snap. 

♡ The rising pleasure within you is starting to overwhelm you, having never felt so full before. Just when you thought you couldn't handle much more, the Prince slides one of his hands down to your sex, massaging you in tandem with his pace. Your nails dig into the flesh of his muscular shoulders as he finally pushes you over the edge. He finds himself following suit not long after, the feeling of your tight hole clenching around him making him unable to hold back any longer.

♡ Both of your moans fill the air as you ride out your climax together. Gasping for air, you hear a knock on the glass of the shower's door - you were so wrapped up in this moment together that neither of you heard Barbatos enter the bathroom. He waited until it sounded as though the two of you were finished before he interrupted your 'shower' - and now he's reminding you of the Young Master's busy schedule for today in a scolding tone, as he holds out towels for you both. Oops.

-> Anyways, you also love spending weekends at the Castle with him - it's easier to flow with his schedule that way. And of course Diavolo is going to invite you to his Saturday night soak; you're his favorite human, his lover, his partner…and it was originally your idea, in the first place! 

-> Just know that this demon spent extensive time planning out your first bubble bath together - he had to pull out all of the stops! 

-> The Friday morning beforehand, Barbatos comes in to wake up his Young Prince, only to find him already awake and making a rather large Akuzon order on his DDD. Scented candles, chocolate covered hellberries, vintage spirits - he was even considering calling in one of his favors to see if he could get some Celestial bubble bath expedited from the angelic realm. Cost is of no issue to him, wanting nothing more than to ensure the night's success. Barbatos scolds him several times throughout the day, the Prince seemingly distracted and prioritizing his night in with you over his paperwork. 

-> When the time comes to set everything up, Diavolo insists on doing everything himself. He even threatens bribes Barbatos into going to Purgatory Hall for the evening - all so that he can do it all alone, eager to show you how much he cares about you. He has a brief moment of doubt as some of the Celestial bubble bath accidentally overflows onto the floor...but you're worth it, and he finishes fixing it all up right as you ring the front entrance anyways.

-> The scene set in his bathroom is so romantic, you wonder for a moment if you're actually in a movie. Abyss flower petals scattered around the floor. Candles set around the tub, the flickering glow dancing against the bathroom's tiles. Scented bubbles gently fizzing and popping, the light aroma filling the air and instantly making you feel relaxed. A bottle of champagne, specially ordered from the human realm, and set in an enchanted bucket of ice next to two hell-crystal champagne flutes. And your gorgeous Demon Prince standing in front of you, gently grabbing your hand to press his lips to your knuckles before he leads you over to the tub. If this is a dream, you definitely don't want to wake up...

-> After the two of you disrobe, you settle into the jacuzzi, and Diavolo gets you each a glass of champagne right after he presses the button to start up the water jets.

♡ It doesn't take much bubbly for the two of you to find yourselves in another heated moment - but the truth was, neither of you could hardly wait to jump the other from the moment you entered the bath's warm water. And now you find yourself in his lap, bouncing on his huge throbbing cock, the feeling of it filling you surprising you yet again. Every new position with the Prince feels like new territory, the way he strokes so deeply within you. Making you feel things you never have before - hitting spots you didn't know existed. This type of adventurous pleasure could become addicting...

♡ His golden eyes smolder with lust as he watches you, every gasp that escapes your lips pushing him closer and closer. Your little human hands grip at his scalp as his own fingers sink into the flesh of your hips. His lips find your neck, and his kisses gradually turn into light love bites, his fangs nipping little marks onto your skin as he thrusts up into you.

♡ "So good...all mine," he mumbles possessively against your neck.

♡ Your moans grow louder as Diavolo starts thrusting faster, taking the reigns as you let the building bliss take over your senses. He pulls away from you to see the way your eyes roll back in ecstasy as his hand glides down to your sex, massaging you in that spot that he knows drives you absolutely wild. Consumed by pleasure, that warm feeling of euphoria washes over you, your orgasm making you feel weightless in Diavolo's muscular arms. 

♡ He's not done with you yet though - not even close. Switching positions, he picks you up in his arms and sets you down on the recessed bench in his bathtub. His hand grips under your thigh and pushes your leg up, a groan escaping his lips as he slides himself back into you. It had been merely a few moments, yet he had already missed the feeling of your tight warmth squeezing him so perfectly.

♡ He thrusts into you roughly and suddenly, the bath's water splashing and rippling against his gorgeous caramel skin with each stroke. You hadn't even come down from the high of your first orgasm, still feeling the aftershocks as Diavolo begins to fuck you faster and faster.

♡ Losing all restraint, his demon form slips out only a few moments before he hits his climax, causing his cock to grow even bigger. Your eyes widen as you feel him, his wings outstretched as he fills you with his royal seed - and you can't help but to join him, your orgasm overtaking you as well.

♡ Both panting for air, he picks you up and sits down with you in his lap, still throbbing deeply within you. He wraps his arms around you to hold you as you both catch your breath. Neither of you can help the smiles plastered across your faces, that blissful feeling still remaining as you sit with him in his loving embrace. Your cheek rests against his chest as his rests on top of your head, and he just knows that this is the happiest he's ever been in his long, demonic life.

-> Afterwards, as the two of you get ready for bed, Diavolo can't help the way his heart swells when he sees the way you've settled into his room. The way your things line the counter of his sink. The way you go to his wardrobe to retrieve your pajamas, instead of your bag. It's almost as if you live here in this Castle with him already - a thought as sweet as candy for the Young Devildom Prince. 

-> And as you lay there snuggled up in his arms, your face buried in the crook of his neck, Diavolo contemplates asking you to move in with him right then and there. But you've already drifted off to sleep, so that will have to wait for another time. Looking down at you lovingly, his heart feels so full - he presses a kiss to the top of your head before laying back on his pillow, his eyes fluttering shut.

♡ "I love you so much," he whispers as he drifts off into his own slumber. With you in his arms and in his dreams, the Future Demon King can't help but to smile in his sleep. 

· demonvibez ♡ 2024 · do not copy, repost or modify · · comments, reblogs and likes are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

[0cta9on]

Lessons

Length: +7k words

Genre: Smut

IVE Gaeul x Male Reader

(Author's Note: Thank you to the buyer for purchasing this commission, and thank you to @msafterhours for beta reading! If you are interested in purchasing a commission from me or simply want to leave a little tip, head on over to my ko-fi page!)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

“Ugh, this is so fucking annoying!” Gaeul groans, slamming her fist against the table, the clattering of silverware echoing throughout the apartment. Wonyoung, used to her sudden bursts of anger, doesn’t even look up from her phone. “I already told that old guy from SBS that I’m not interested, yet he keeps spamming my messages!”

“Why did you give him your number in the first place if you’re not interested?” Wonyoung inquires.

Gaeul’s cheeks turn a bright red, her gaze falling nervously to the side. “...You know why.”

“Because you’re horny?” Wonyoung posits, raising her brow.

The older girl’s face falls into her hands in misery, emitting a deep guttural groan that carries the weight of her dissatisfaction. “This is so unfair, how did you guys find boyfriends and I have to slog through all these gross older men and obnoxious boy group members?” Gaeul glances at her with a pout on her lips. “Am I ugly or something?”

Wonyoung sighs, gently holding her groupmate’s hand from across the table. “Of course you’re not ugly, you’re just… unlucky.” Gaeul faceplants into the table, her muffled whimpers eliciting sympathy from the younger girl. “Look, why don’t you just ask out our manager already? I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Gaeul’s face shoots up, tomato red with panic. “W-what are you talking about!? That’s our manager, that’s w-weird!”

Wonyoung scoffs. “And you think touching yourself while moaning his name isn’t weird?”

“H-how did y-”

“These walls are paper thin, just because you play ocean noises in the background doesn’t mean we can’t hear you.”

Gaeul sinks into her chair, covering her face in embarrassment. With a sigh, Wonyoung pulls up a website on her phone and slides it across the table. “Here, a bunch of my friends used this website when they were in your position and they all managed to find a boyfriend within a week.”

The older girl scans the phone, immediately grimacing at the shoddy nature of the website. Aside from an embedded video in the middle of the site and a measly drop down menu titled “Lessons”, it’s essentially barebones. All the text is in Comic Sans for some god awful reason, and whatever moron made this sorry excuse for a website decided to use bright orange over pink. It’s like wrapping a terrible gift in even uglier wrapping paper.

“Wonyoung, this is… grim,” she mutters.

Wonyoung shrugs. “The results speak for themselves.” She takes her phone back and walks towards her room at the end of the hallway. “You better watch those videos. You’re already ruining my beauty sleep, I won’t let you ruin beaches for me too,” she calls out, her bedroom door slamming behind her.

Gaeul leans her head against her palm, contemplating her options. She could ignore Wonyoung’s advice and continue to foolishly look around for dick until her standards drop so low that she ends up sleeping with — God forbid — some washed up 2nd gen idol, or she could learn a thing or two from that hideous website and ask out her hot manager, potentially making things awkward between them for the rest of her career. 

She barely has to think about it before pulling out her phone, pulling up the website in mere seconds. With a deep breath, she presses play on the first video.

______________________________________________________________

LESSON 1: HOW TO GET A MAN

Being the manager of one of the biggest girl groups in the world leaves you with little energy and even less free time. At first, it was fun. When IVE first debuted, they were nervous yet excited about finally achieving the dreams they’ve worked so hard for, and you wanted to help them out anyway you could, becoming a strong pillar that they can rely on. 

However, after a couple years of idol experience under their belt combined with their very quick rise to stardom, the job that you once loved turned into a complete nightmare, which only worsened once the girls found partners. Just last week, you had to wrestle a camera away from a Dispatch worker after he took photos of Rei sucking off her boyfriend in the middle of a park—all of this at 3 fucking AM. To add salt to the wound, instead of being commended for preventing a potential PR disaster, you got chewed out by your supervisor for not managing them well enough. Sure, let’s ignore the million other times you’ve warned them about doing stupid things in public that they keep ignoring. 

At least not all of them are a handful to deal with since Gaeul doesn’t have a boyfr-

*Ring Ring*

Speak of the devil. You answer your phone.

“Hey Gaeul, what’s up?”

“H-hi, um…” She clears her throat, her nervousness putting you on edge.

“Is something wrong? Are you in trouble?”

“N-no, it’s nothing like that! It’s just, uh… Are you busy tomorrow?”

You scan your desk, cluttered with a messy pile of paperwork. Even at your most productive, it’ll take you the entire week to get through everything alongside the plethora of meetings you’ll have to attend. “Yeah, I’ll probably be busy tomorrow, why?”

“Oh, um… How about Saturday?”

“Gaeul, what is this about?”

“Just…!” She sighs audibly in frustration. “Yes or no?”

Rolling your eyes, you take a quick glance at your calendar. Aside from a note that says “buy groceries”, it seems like your entire weekend is free. “Yes, I’m free on Saturday. What is this-”

“Great! I’ll text you an address. Be there at 5pm sharp. Bye!”

“Wai-”

Gaeul hangs up before you can utter another word, leaving you to wonder what all of this is about and why she sounded so nervous over the phone. Your mind runs through all the potential scenarios this could be. As far as you know, there aren’t any events Ive are performing at and filming for their YouTube show doesn’t start until next week. Could this be a prank the girls are pulling on you?

Even as you look up the address she sent you, all you're left with is more questions than answers.

______________________________________________________________

LESSON 2: HOW TO ACT PROPER ON A DATE

Saturday rolls around after another particularly difficult week of running around protecting IVE’s image. If you’re being honest, you fully expected to pass away from stress alone after Yujin and Liz nearly got caught having a foursome in someone’s pool by Dispatch yet again. At the very least, this photographer didn’t put up nearly as much of a fight as the last one.

As you travel to the far side of the city and stroll up to the fancy restaurant Gaeul all but forced you to come to, you silently pray that this isn’t some weird way of her announcing her new relationship to you. You enter the restaurant, almost immediately receiving a glare of disdain from the host as he scans your casual outfit of a T-shirt and jeans, unbefitting of the atmosphere.

“I’m sorry sir, but we have a strict dress code and we unfortunately cannot seat you with your current outfit,” he says, flashing a condescending smile.

“Actually, sorry if this is weird, but is a woman named Gaeul here?” you ask, ignoring his poor attitude.

He looks down at his podium, scanning through some papers before his expression suddenly shifts into something more genial. “Ah, of course! Right this way, sir.” He leads you down a side hallway that’s hidden away from the main seating area, and brings you to one of many doors. “Ms. Gaeul is right in this room, sir.”

You open the door, your jaw hitting the floor in awe as you scan the intricate decorations that adorn the room. A golden chandelier hangs overhead, illuminating everything in a warm glow, while beautifully realistic paintings of fruit bowls and flower vases hang on the walls. In the center of the room sits a table, draped with a red silk cloth and topped with lit candles that set a sort of romantic mood. Gaeul sits on one end, sporting a black strapless dress that shows off her milky skin and thin figure.

“Hi!” She says, walking to you with outstretched arms. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Hey— o-oh.” You flinch in surprise as she pulls you into a warm embrace, instinctually slotting your arm around her delicate waist. It’s the first hug you’ve shared with one of the members, and your discomfort quickly fades as you sink into her. 

“Have a seat, make yourself comfortable,” she says. You sit across from her, your eyes darting around the room, overwhelmed by the ambience. “You like the view?”

“Yeah, this place is pretty cool, but why did you want me to come here?”

“To surprise you of course!” 

Just then, a procession of servers files through the door, carrying silver platters full of food. With each dish they place, you salivate more and more, your stomach rumbling intensely. By the time the last dish is set, the entire table is filled with various dishes of different smells, colors, and textures, none of it discernible but all of it delicious. The final cherry on top is the bottle of expensive wine that the server pours into your glass. This is it. This is Heaven.

“Since you work so hard for us, I thought it would be fitting to treat you to a nice meal,” Gaeul explains, smiling at you. “You deserve it.

“W-wow, this is just… thank you so much, Gaeul,” You say, still scanning the food in front of you. “I wish you would’ve told me to wear something nicer though. That guy at the front side-eyed me the second I walked in.”

“It’s okay, I think you look sexy in anything you wear,” she giggles, cutting her laughter short with a bite of her lip. For a split second, you swear your heart skips a beat.

Blush grows on your cheeks, taken aback by her sudden compliment. “O-oh, uh, thanks. You look, um, very nice too.”

“Just nice?” She pouts cutely. “I got all dressed up for you and that’s all you’re gonna say?”

The heat in your face deepens as you nervously avert your gaze. You compliment the girls all the time, why do you suddenly feel weird about it now? “You look… very pretty, Gaeul.”

She grins warmly, satisfied by your answer. “Thank you. Now eat up! It’s all for you.”

You spend the next few minutes in pure bliss trying out every single dish, each bite better than the last. Sweet, savory, bitter, earthy, flavor combinations you never even knew existed dance around on your taste buds; pair that with the rich taste of the wine and suddenly, you’re floating on cloud nine.

“How’s the food?” She asks. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Of course I am,” you say, grinning at her. “I’m eating delicious food and drinking expensive wine with a beautiful girl.”

“Oh?” Her brow raises with intrigue, a smirk playing on her glossy lips. “Beautiful? I thought you said I was just pretty?”

“I-I mean yeah, the entire world thinks you’re beautiful,” you stutter, trying to keep your inhibitions in check, a task that’s becoming increasingly difficult with the amount of alcohol you’ve consumed.

“Okay, but what do you think?” Gaeul leans in like a predator backing up its prey into a corner, her light-hearted tone dropping to reveal something more sultry.

You gulp, beads of sweat forming on your head. “W-well, I think you’re a great performer and-”

“That’s not what I meant,” she states, staring intently at you. “Have you ever thought about me? Imagining what you would do to me if we were all alone with no one to bother us, just me and you?” She brings her spoon to her lips, giving it a slow, sensuous lick without ever breaking eye contact.

You shiver as her tongue dances across the silver, desperately wishing it was you instead of the damn spoon. You shouldn’t be having these impure thoughts—though you’d be lying if you said this is the first time you’ve looked at Gaeul this way. You’re her manager, Starship will toss you out in an instant if they suspect that you took the job just to get with the idols. But it’s so hard to think properly with the alcohol flowing through your system and the tightening in your pants.

 Tell her no. Stop her advances immediately before things get out of hand. Yet, you don’t object as Gaeul takes your hand, leading you out of the restaurant. The words start to meld together like goo, all you can make out is an utterance of a “good time” and how you’ve been such a “good boy”. You say a lot of things to her, probably—it’s hard to talk with her tongue shoved in your mouth—but as the taxi takes you to the familiar route towards her apartment, the only clear thought running through your head is how impossible it is to tell this girl “no”. 

______________________________________________________________

LESSON 3: HOW TO PLEASURE A MAN

Gaeul tosses her phone on her bed, scoffing in disgust. After her conversation with Wonyoung last night, she binge watched the first two lessons, even jotting down notes to remember for later. As much as she would hate to admit it, the questionable looking website is an information goldmine for a desperate soul like hers, it’s a wonder how she hasn’t stumbled upon it before. However, her view of it immediately soured again after watching the third lesson.

“Act submissive? Let him do whatever he wants?” Gaeul questions, reiterating the points made in the video. “What kind of bullshit advice is this? If I’m gonna sleep with someone, I’m not trying to be their little fuck doll or whatever!”

She paces around her room, hands running through her hair over and over again as the thoughts bounce around her frustrated mind. What’s the point in doing all this work trying to get a boyfriend if it only amounts to his pleasure? What about her needs? Is she supposed to be happy being reduced to a glorified cum rag?

Fuck no. A sudden realization hits her like a bolt from the blue — She’s Gaeul from IVE. An icon in one of if not the most popular girl group in the world. Any man should feel lucky that she even gave them the time of day.

With a newfound determination, Gaeul picks up her phone, her finger hovering tentatively over the “Call” button on her manager’s contract. She’ll use what she learned in the first two videos for sure; she’s not dumb enough to completely disregard their teachings. But if—no, when things get to the bedroom, she’ll do things her own way.

______________________________________________________________

You and Gaeul stumble through the door of the dorm, lips, limbs, and fingers intertwined in a needy ball of lust. Don’t even bother making it to her room, half of your clothes are already off by the time you reach the living room. Palm her toned stomach, savor the taste of her lewd moans dancing off her tongue and onto yours, shiver as her nails graze against your skin. Do all the dirty things you’ve kept hidden in the back of your mind.

Gaeul breaks away, sitting back on the couch as she strips away the rest of her dress, leaving her in a matching set of black undergarments. She spreads her legs, inviting you to fill the space in between.

“Eat me out,” she commands, words unwavering even as the sheen of arousal coating her thighs tells you exactly how badly she needs this. You quickly oblige, practically diving face first into her sweet heat. Discard her soaked panties; to you, they’re just another obstacle keeping you from what you really want.

“Good boy~,” Gaeul moans as you attack her slit with your tongue. You alternate between long, slow licks to flicking your tongue furiously against her clit. She yanks at your hair, forcing you to take a whiff of her sex. Her scent is intoxicating. You don’t even feel the pain anymore, all you can think about is about pleasuring her gorgeous pussy.

“F-fuck yes, lick my pussy, you fucking perv!” she goads you on and you follow her every command like the dog that you are. Her slim thighs wrap around your head, forcing you deeper and deeper into her until it’s physically impossible for you to get any closer. Forget the alcohol, you’re getting drunker on the sweet nectar dripping from her hole.

Fuck her with your fingers as you lap at her clit with a hunger you’ve never felt before. Her guttural moans are like a siren song, drawing you into her. The way her face contorts with pleasure is so alluring. You thought she was attractive already, but fuck this is the kind of beauty that only you are lucky enough to see. No hounding fans, no Dispatch, just you and Gaeul.

She grabs your hair, pulling you away from her heat, much to your dismay. “Take your fucking cock out,” she commands before pushing you back onto the floor. You make quick work of your boxers, but before you can ask for a condom, Gaeul’s already climbing all over you, lining up your painfully erect cock with her slit.

“W-wait, Gaeul-”

She clasps her hand over your mouth, leering at you with a ravenous glare. “I’ve waited too long for this to use a damn condom. You’re just gonna have to pull out or I’m kicking your ass out into the streets, got it?”

You nod, both terrified and turned on by this new side of Gaeul. With her hand still covering your mouth, she slowly impales herself on your rod, her face silently contorting with each inch of you she takes. You move to grab her hips, but she swats your hand away.

“Absolutely fucking not, we’re doing this my way,” she growls at you. All you can do is submit as she fucks herself onto you at a selfishly slow pace like you’re nothing more than her personal dildo. Your hot breath flows through the miniscule gaps in between her fingers, not even giving you the luxury of a deep breath. You want to get angry, you want to show her who’s boss, but each time she slams her hips down onto you, it’s like she sucks away your will to fight little by little until you're completely left at her mercy.

“Fuck, this is so much better than using my fingers,” she groans, throwing her head back in ecstasy. “I bet you’ve imagined this before, huh? Filling my pussy with your disgusting cock?”

You nod sheepishly. Her words aren’t entirely false; you’ve imagined what it would be like to sleep with some of the girls, but never did you think you would actually get the chance to. Gaeul rocks her hips back and forth, relishing in the way your breath quickens and your eyes twitch with each slam of her petite hips. You feel yourself begin to reach the apex of your climax and urgently tap her thighs to warn her, but all she does is laugh in your face.

“You wanna dump your cum deep into my cunt, don’t you? Impregnate me with your disgusting seed?” she teases. “I’m not on the pill. What are you gonna do?”

Your eyes clamp shut, trying desperately to ignore the building sensation in the pit of your stomach. But with her warm walls making you lose all sense of control, it’s only a matter of time before you inevitably burst inside of her. Right at the last second, you grab Gaeul’s hips and lift her off of you, shooting your cum onto your stomach. Gaeul’s body shakes violently as she reaches her own orgasm, furiously rubbing at her clit as her juices spray all over your torso. Once her messy climax subsides, she scoops a dollop of your semen off of your stomach and licks it, swirling your combined juices in her mouth with a smirk.

“Mmm, tasty,” she says, cupping your chin while her other hand strokes your semi-hard shaft. “You better get it up soon, I’m not done using you.”

“Y-yes…” you mutter, still basking in the high of your orgasm.

Her grip on your face deepens, digging her nails into your cheek. “Yes, who?”

“Yes… mistress,” you utter like the word is commonplace on your tongue. With an amused smirk, Gaeul plants a kiss on your lips, much gentler than you had anticipated.

“You learn quickly. Good boy~” Hearing her say that makes your skin shiver in delight, craving the sensual lilt in her voice. You want her approval. You need her approval. With her, you’re not her manager anymore, you’re her plaything that lives to serve her.

Gaeul bites her lip as she looks down at your cock, already at full mast once again. “Carry me to my room.”

“Yes, mistress,” you answer promptly, scooping her up into your arms. Gaeul nips at your ear as you carry her to her room, trapping yourself inside with the little beast that you’ve worked with for years. The line of morality blurs to the point of disappearing, almost as if it was never there in the first place. It doesn’t matter anymore. All you care about is serving your mistress until she’s completely satisfied.

______________________________________________________________

Your eyes blink open to sunlight peeking through the window. The mattress feels oddly soft, more so than usual. Maybe it’s finally time to bite the bullet and get a new mattress. A blinding headache keeps you glued to your back, unable to make any sudden movements. Your ceiling fan looks odd too. Has it always been this big?

The door clicks open followed by a few light footsteps. “Good morning!” That’s Gaeul’s voice. Why is that Gaeul’s voice?

Panic begins to ensue as you finally look around the room. This isn’t your room. This isn’t your mattress. That’s not your ceiling fan. And where the hell are your clothes?

“W-what the-”

“Here.” Gaeul hands you a water bottle. “I bet your hangover is killing you right now.”

You quickly cover yourself with a blanket, blushing sheepishly. “G-Gaeul… Why am I here? A-and where are my cloth-” Your jaw drops in shock as you scan her outfit — She’s wearing your t-shirt paired with nothing but black panties.

“W-why are you wearing my shirt!?”

She pouts at you, placing the water bottle on her nightstand. “Do you not remember what happened last night?” She leans in with a smirk. “Because I definitely do.”

Her warmth tickles your ear. It’s an oddly… pleasant feeling, but that’s not important right now. “D-did we…?”

“Have sex?” Gaeul finishes your sentence, sitting down next to you. “Yes, we did. And it was amazing.”

Your face falls into your hands. You could lose your job for this. Hell, you could get blacklisted from the entire industry. No one’s going to want to hire a manager that fucked an idol they were supposed to be managing. This is it. You’re gonna have to flee the country, maybe even change your name. You’ll become a beet farmer on some remote island where your only friend is a seagull and-

“Hey,” Gaeul soothes you, rubbing your back. “You look worried. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I-I should’ve never let this happen, I could lose my job, my apartment, my-”

“You’re not gonna lose your job,” she assures you. “If they fire you, I’ll threaten to leave the group.” You turn to her, confused. “W-what, why?”

“Because…” A light blush grows on her cheeks. “I like you. And you made me feel sooo good last night.”

“U-um…”

“Do you still not remember what happened?” she sighs. You shake your head no. “Hmm… maybe this will help jog your memory.”

With a smirk, Gaeul cups your chin, forcing you to look at her. Her hair is still messy and her face is barren without makeup, yet she still looks so beautiful in front of you. She leans in, giving you that same pleasant feeling as her breath dances on your earlobe.

“Good boy.”

Like a movie, the scenes of last night’s misdeeds play vividly in your mind, reminding you exactly what transpired: The dinner. The taxi ride. The sex. Holy fuck, the sex. You’ve dated submissive girls before, but the way Gaeul dominated you was a whole different experience, nothing you’ve ever felt before. She took away your ability to breathe properly, completely leaving you at her mercy, and you enjoyed it. It felt dirty, but it felt good.

Gaeul chuckles as she notices your erection poking through the blanket. “Did that turn you on?”

“N-no, uh…”

“You’re really gonna be shy about it now? It looked like you were enjoying yourself more than I was last night,” she teases.

The blush on your cheeks deepen. “L-look, I… I’ve never done that kind of thing before. Hell, I’ve never had sex with an idol before. This is all kinda new to me,” you admit.

Gaeul sighs, gazing at the wall in contemplation. “I’ve never done anything like that before either. But I liked it.” She turns to you. “Did you like it?”

“Uh… Yeah. I did.”

“Would you want to keep doing it?”

The threat of losing your job still lingers in your mind. This is all new and potentially dangerous territory, and you have no idea what the future could possibly hold for either of you. But you would be the biggest idiot in the world if you lied to yourself and declined her offer.

“Yeah. I want to keep doing this with you,” you say. With a smile, Gaeul tears away the blanket and excitedly jumps into your lap, her crotch resting on your exposed erection. The thin fabric of her panties is the only thing keeping you separated from her sweet pussy.

“So does that mean you’ll be my boyfriend?” She asks, now grinding her hips against you. Your breath gets thinner as the heat of ecstasy fills up your entire body.

“Y-yes, I would love to be your boyfriend.”

Gaeul grabs your chin, her nails sinking into the flesh of your cheeks. “Yes, who?”

A moan escapes your lips as the pleasure mixes with the pain, leaving you in a state of bliss. “Yes, mistress.”

She smirks at you before taking off your shirt, revealing her perky tits and her petite waist to you. “Good boy. I can’t wait to play with you some more~”

______________________________________________________________

LESSON 4: HOW TO MAKE IT LAST

The last few weeks have been the most exciting weeks of your life. All the previous stress of working as IVE’s manager practically disappeared now that you were with Gaeul. No more wrestling with Dispatch after one of the members gets caught anymore, all she has to do is assert her dominance as the oldest and the rest of the members will listen to her. If you knew that a cheat sheet was underneath your nose this whole time, you would’ve dated her sooner.

Of course, to avoid any controversy and damage to the group, your relationship was kept a secret from everyone, including the members. However, that didn’t stop her from constantly calling you to fulfill her needs. It doesn’t matter where, when, or how many people are around, if she’s in need of release, you’re on your knees, lapping at her pussy like it’s your last meal. Gaeul is absolutely crazy, but you would be downright insane to tell your mistress “no”.

After a couple of close calls, both of you decided that it would be best to come clean to her members about your relationship. It’s already hard enough trying to keep your hands off of each other; you wouldn't want any of them to walk in on the two of you while your tongue is deep inside your girlfriend. At first, you assumed that Gaeul would simply send a quick text to the girls to alert them, but it seems like she has some other plans in mind as the two of you wait for them in one of Starship’s meeting rooms.

Gaeul moans in delight as you suck on her neck while she grinds against your leg. “Fuck, that feels good, baby,” she coos.

“Not that I’m complaining, but don’t you think it’ll be awkward if they walk in on us like this?” You ask, nipping at her ear.

“I locked the door, so they’ll have to knock before they can come in.” Of course she accounted for that. God, you fucking love her. “Now shut up and get back to sucking.”

“Yes, mistress,” you oblige, sinking your fingers into her ass as you ravage her neck. However, your playtime is cut short as a knock at the door signals the presence of the other girls.

“God dammit,” you groan. “Can we make this quick, babe? I need you so badly.”

Gaeul flashes you a mischievous smirk, giving you a soft parting kiss before climbing out of your lap. “Don’t worry, cutie, we’ll get to have some fun sooner than you think.” You ogle at her hips as she sashays over to the door, unlocking it and smiling brightly at Wonyoung, Yujin, Liz, and Rei as they file through. You try to offer a similar smile, but with the aching in your jeans, you’re barely coherent enough to breathe properly.

“I’m so glad you guys could make it!” Gaeul exclaims, locking the door behind them.

“Of course!” Yujin replies. “You said you had an important announcement, so that means it’s important to us too!”

“Couldn’t you just text us though? And why is our manager here?” Rei asks, eyeing the two of you suspiciously. You nervously avert your gaze, looking towards Gaeul for support.

“Because he’s part of this and I wanted to show you guys something in person,” Gaeul explains. She takes a quick breath before continuing. “So, I’m sure you’re all aware of how much I’ve been complaining about not having a boyfriend, and-”

“Wah! You got a boyfriend!?” Liz exclaims, connecting the dots fairly quickly. “Who is it? Is it that one rookie that was staring at you during recording last week?”

“Ew, no,” she grimaces. “It’s actually someone all of you know very well.” Gaeul suddenly climbs onto your lap, planting a delicate kiss on your cheek. Normally, you would feel pretty nervous about doing something this vulgar in front of others, but her body heat combined with your raging hormones from your interrupted makeout session makes you completely forget about everyone else. A billion people could be watching and you would still let this gorgeous beauty do anything she wants to your body.

The girls applaud at Gaeul’s announcement, except for Wonyoung, who overdramatically rolls her eyes at the news. “You called us in to tell us this? It was so obvious you two were dating, you were practically attached at the hip for the past couple weeks.”

Gaeul chuckles, eyes darkening as she captures you with her gaze. “Actually, there’s something else I wanted to show you guys too.” Much to your dismay, she gets off of you and drags a chair some distance away from you, sitting down. “You see, our manager here is actually a bit of a freak.”

The girls stifle their laughter as they glance at you, causing your cheeks to burn with embarrassment and confusion. “U-um, babe? W-what are you-”

“I could’ve acted like some ‘ditzy little fuck doll’ and let him have his way with me,” Gaeul scoffs, disdain dripping in her tone. “But then I thought ‘Why should I let him have all the fun? Our dear manager is always bossing us around, so why don’t I take charge for once?’ Granted, it was a gamble, but it paid off sooo fucking well. Don’t you agree, baby?”

Your cheeks grow redder by the second as they all look at you expectantly. “I-I mean, yeah, I-I liked it-” Suddenly, a piece of fabric hits you in the face. You examine it in your hands, your eyes growing wide with shock as you realize what it is — Gaeul’s shirt.

The rest of her members cheer at her boldness while your heart pounds against your chest, tracing her silhouette with your hungry gaze. “Crawl,” she commands.

Your eyes dart nervously between her and the rest of the girls, desire and judgment warring in your mind. “B-b-but-”

“I didn’t say you could speak,” she spits, her eyes narrowing. “Now, be a good boy and fucking crawl.”

A flip switches in your brain as desire wins the war by a landslide. Any hint of embarrassment you once held is now gone, replaced by an overwhelming amount of lust. You fall to your hands and knees, ignoring the hollering from the other girls. To you, they don’t exist anymore. All that matters is satisfying your mistress in any way you can. 

Gaeul harshly grips your hair once you reach her, forcing you to stare into her eyes. The heat from her breath hits your face, driving you mad with want. You swear a glob of drool falls from your lip at the thought of getting to taste her sweet pussy again. 

She drags her thumb over your lips, smirking. “Tell them what you are,” she orders, turning your head towards her members. Wonyoung rests her head against her palm like she’d rather be somewhere else, while Yujin starts recording you with her phone, no doubt to hold it over your head if you inconvenience her later on. Liz stares at you, deeply flustered, yet a hint of jealousy in her eyes, and you notice Rei sneakily trying to touch herself, her face beet red with pent up arousal.

“I am mistress’s plaything. I live to satisfy her and her alone, no matter where or when she asks me to,” you state. Wonyoung mouths an impressed “Oh wow” at Gaeul before glancing at you with a hint of disgust in her eyes.

Your hair is yanked back towards your girlfriend. “Mmm, it’s cute just how pathetic you fucking look. I bet you want your reward now, don’t you?” She teases the hem of her shorts with her other hand, flashing a glimpse of her panties at you. You nod enthusiastically, ignoring the pain in your scalp while you pant like a dog with desperation.

“Y-yes, please. I want you so badly, mistress. I crave the taste of your sweetness,” you beg. She smirks at you before standing up and removing her shorts, leaving just the fabric of her panties to block you from the true prize within like a wrapper on a candy bar. Hastily, you move your hands to the hem of her panties, but she quickly swats them away.

“Use your teeth, you fucking dog,” she spits.

“Yes, mistress.” As you get closer to her heat, her scent wafts through your nose, sending your mind deeper into a frenzy. You bite down onto the hem and jerk your head downwards, quickly uncovering the object of your desire hiding underneath. With her panties hanging from your teeth, you look up at her in search of her approval.

“Damn, I wish my boyfriend was that obedient…” Liz mutters under her breath.

Gaeul gently cups your chin, smiling at you with a palpable desire in her eyes. You love that look. You want her to look at you like that all the time, even if it means humiliating yourself in front of the girl group that you are paid to take care of. You are her pet, her plaything, her good boy that does anything she wants.

“Lick my pussy, baby,” she whispers, commanding yet soft. She bites her lip as she watches your face inch closer and closer to her dripping core, glistening and beautiful. You run your tongue along her slit, gratefully lapping at her juices while your hands caress her slender thighs. Gaeul grinds her hips against your face, pulling at your hair every time you make contact with her clit.

“F-fuck yes!” she moans, forgetting about the audience that she brought along. “J-just like that… Such a good boy… K-keep fucking me with that tongue, oh fuck!”

The sound of her pleasure is your favorite song, but it gets harder to hear as her thighs clamp around your ears. No matter; you’re doing this for her and not for you, after all. Double your efforts to please her, work your fingers into her hole while you flick your tongue against her clit. Don’t worry about the cramping in your tongue or the lack of oxygen in your lungs. All the pain is worth it for your mistress.

You feel her entire body contract as her orgasm overtakes, nearly collapsing on top of you in the process. You do your best to support her body, all while drinking up her nectar like it’s the first drop of rainfall during a long drought. The familiar tanginess hits your tongue, a flavor that you crave more than the fancy dinner she treated you on your first night together.

“H-holy shit…” Gaeul stutters, holding onto your shoulders for support as she catches her breath. “Get on the chair… I-I wanna ride you…”

You notice her legs are still shaking underneath her. “A-are you sur-”

“I said get on the fucking chair!”

You quickly jump to your feet and do as you're told, subtly making sure Gaeul doesn’t fall over before moving from underneath her. She silently scorns you with a furious glare for not immediately following her orders. The rest of the girls watch with bated breath, not used to this side of her.

Gaeul makes quick work of your jeans and your boxers, roughly squeezing your shaft in between her fingers. “Are you gonna keep fucking disobeying me, or are you gonna follow my instructions like a good boy?” she whispers harshly into your ear.

You squirm underneath her grasp, the pain only turning you on even more. “I-I’ll be a good boy, mistress. I s-swear.”

“U-um…” Wonyoung nervously interjects. “Isn’t this a bit much, Gaeul? He looks like he’s in pain.”

Gaeul wraps her other hand around your neck, her palm pushing against your Adam's apple. You moan against her touch, enjoying the lightheadedness. “Don’t you like this, baby? Don’t you love being a good little dog for me?” She teases, slowly stroking your cock.

“Y-yes, I love it so much. I love being my mistress’s dog,” you say, your breath shivering.

Gaeul turns back to Wonyoung. “See? He likes it,” she states simply. Wonyoung concedes and sinks into her chair, continuing to watch the sick and twisted display of affection in front of her with faint but growing interest.

With that out of the way, Gaeul turns back to you and hops into your lap, teasing your tip by dragging it along her wet slit. “Do you want this pussy, baby? Do you want to fill it with your disgusting cock?” 

“Y-yes, mistress. I want you so badly.” Your skin crawls as jolts of electricity shoot through you with each slow drag of her lips. Any ounce of sanity you had left has completely turned into mush at this point. Despite your basest desires, you know better than to thrust into her without her permission. She has you right under her thumb, and any mistake could mean getting squashed without warning.

Her grip on your neck tightens. “Beg for it, bitch.”

“P-please… I-I need it… N-need you…” you manage to choke out, writhing under her grasp. She grins at you, shoving a messy kiss on your lips as she slams her hips down onto you. She rips a moan from deep within your chest as you grant her tongue free reign over yours, earning a hum of satisfaction in response. Her velvety walls grip onto your cock, squeezing any remaining energy you had left. You’re nothing more than a glorified dildo to be used by your merciful mistress.

Gaeul suddenly breaks the kiss, slapping you across the face. Blood rushes to your cheek, now marked red by her hand.

“Gaeul…!” Yujin gasps in shock. “Th-that’s-”

“Do it again!” you plead, silencing her concern. “P-please, mistress. Hit me again.”

Your mistress bites her lip at you, intensifying the gyration of her hips while blessing your cheeks with a frenzy of slaps. You grow dizzy with pain and pleasure, higher than any drug could ever take you. 

“T-take it, you fucking dog!” she moans, continuing her assault on your face as her second orgasm rapidly approaches. You feel your own quickly following suit and tap her thigh to warn her, but Gaeul instead wraps her arms around you, showing no signs of slowing down her hips.

“I-I’m safe today, b-baby,” she whispers into your ear, much more gentle than she usually is. “Y-you can c-cum in me if you want… I f-fucking love you…”

The walls of her gorgeous pussy squeeze your shaft as she squirts onto your cock. You follow her soon after, covering her insides with your cum for the first time ever, clinging onto Gaeul’s delicate body. Your mind floats around in pure ecstasy, a feeling you never want to let go of. Gaeul lazily kisses on your neck as she recovers from her high.

“I… love you… too,” you breathlessly mutter before falling victim to exhaustion and collapsing against the chair. Gaeul climbs off of your lap and collects her discarded clothing off the ground, stumbling with each step.

“Well… that was interesting to say the least,” Yujin says after a long silence, finishing the recording on her phone.

“Send me that video later, that was really hot…” Rei whispers to her.

“Um, is he gonna be okay?” Liz asks. “I’m pretty sure we have a schedule tomorrow.”

Gaeul looks over to your now sleeping form and smiles with adoration. She kisses your reddened cheek, careful not to wake you. “He’ll be fine, I’m pretty sure,” she assures them.

Wonyoung stands up from her seat. “I’m glad you found a good… boytoy, or whatever you call him,” she says, patting Gaeul’s shoulder before leaving the meeting room. The rest of the girls follow suit, leaving Gaeul alone with you as she waits for you to wake up.

She slides a chair next to you and plants another gentle kiss on your cheek before sitting. “Good boy~” she whispers delicately, resting her head on your shoulder.

[sacredsorceress]

Meet Cute with Logan Would Include... || Wolverine Headcanons

pairing: logan howlett (wolverine) x mutant!f!reader summary: you're a new teacher at the school and logan is interested in you from your first meeting a/n: i'm admittedly projecting with the fact that reader teaches history but just a little blurb because logan's been on my mind and i need to get work done <33 lmk if you want me to make this into an actual fic!! warnings: none, all fluff

masterlist | inbox | tip jar (ko-fi)

when you first arrive at the school as a teacher (and late blooming mutant) charles introduces you to logan

logan has a typical scowl on his face and glances at you up and down

so you begin to worry that you've worn the wrong outfit or presented yourself poorly and now an infamous wolverine dig is about to be thrown your way

but instead, he takes a puff of his cigar, and looks back at charles

"you have a rule about only recruiting good-looking teachers or something?"

and what an array of relief (and butterflies) do you get from that

"yes, very funny, logan. however, y/n here has a phd. I've brought her on to teach the students"

"yeah? and what's your "gift"?" (mutation)

he has a coy look on his face

"oh logan, that's a bit personal..." you said with faux seriousness. "buy me a drink first."

for the first time, you saw him smile. a chuckle reverberated in his chest.

"fair enough."

after that interaction charles escorted you out of the room but as you went, logan's eyes were trained on you.

intrigued, he took another puff of his cigar and smiled to himself.

on your first night there, once all the children have gone to sleep and all the adults have gone to their own rooms for the night you hear a knock on your door.

and guess who it is?

you hate to admit it but god, does he look so hot and suave standing in your doorway.

logan's hair is in a typical mess and his flannel has a few more buttons undone than it did this morning,

and although he's rough around the edges and not as necessarily openly friendly as the others, he exudes confidence- especially as he leans against your doorframe.

"you said i owed you a drink."

although he takes you to the diviest dive bar in town, you have such a good time.

after a little bit of awkwardness, the two of you found your footing and you end up talking (flirting) for hours

well, in actuality, you do most of the talking but boy does he like listening to you talk and watching your eyes light up while you laugh at some of your own stories

on the way back to the mansion, he opens the car door for you

"thank you."

"don't mention it" (he's blushing a little)

on the ride back he tries to be as smooth as possible, one arm draped over the passenger seat while the other rests on the steering wheel

he keeps taking quick glances at you as you hum along to the song on the radio and even though you just met he's already thinking about how he could get used to this

he walks you back to your room and as much as he wants to make another move (and you do too) he doesn't want to mess up your relationship before its even started

i mean, you're living in the same place?? what happens if you don't like it?? and you end up hating him?? now his suave demeanor has crumbled under the weight of realising this is actually real and not a game

"I'll.. uh... be down the hall if you need me."

"thanks, logan" you smile softly and he thinks its the first time anyone's done that in over a decade and meant it

when he starts walking down the hall, you call out in a whisper

"oh and logan!" you pause. "sweet dreams."

before he can say anything the door of your bedroom shuts

a stupid, silly grin coats his face so big that he rubs his hand across his cheeks in fear anyone would catch the big bad wolverine becoming a softie for the teacher he's got the hots for

although you've just met, you've got him wrapped around your finger and he can barely believe it

shoving his hands in his pocket, logan shakes his head and laughs on the way to his own bedroom

"fuck."