#it would instantly knock me out i know that for sure

[smutoperator]

Young & Beautiful

Tanaka Anna x Male Reader

Tags: bedroom, belt-wrapping, blindfolds, daddy kink, dom/sub, facial(-ish), mirror sex, nipple play, old/young, pretty face praising, (lots of) pussy worshipping, suggar daddy, tying up, visual

Word count: 4845.

You had a lot of money but lived the life of a divorced dad. Lonely except for the few times your daughter came to visit you. Until the day she asked you to take her to a university festival to see her favorite new group: Meovv.

As the concert started, your eyes immediately went to one of their members. A young and beautiful Japanese girl.

Your daughter kept enjoying Meovv's performance while your eyes just couldn't get off that girl you didn't even know the name of. But you knew you had to meet her at all costs.

The performance ended, and you asked the security guard if he would let you see the Meovv girls backstage. He granted you some credentials as you talked with the staff about your daughter being a huge fan of them as they let her move close to the girls.

"Anna!" your daughter exclaimed excitedly as she asked one of the members to sign her merch, leading you to know the name of the beautiful girl you were closely watching on stage. Once your daughter moved off to the remaining members, you started talking to Anna.

Anna told you she had a day off tomorrow. You gave her your phone number and placed your bets. But the Japanese girl was rather sweet and gave you a quick answer.

"Pick me up at the label's building," she said.

On the next day, you waited for Anna outside The Black Label's building in Itaewon, seeing a few of their artists, such as Rosé and Somi, go inside. But you only wanted Anna, even though it seemed like it was taking quite long for her to come out of the building, to the point you thought you weren't going to see her.

"Sorry for being late," Anna said as she knocked on your car's door. "No problem," you promptly answered her. "Where do you wanna go?" you ask her. "You can take me anywhere you want," she answered.

You took Anna for what was essentially a day-long date. You two ate ice cream together, had some lunch, and went shopping, you gifting her the most expensive stuff your money could buy. Anna loved every second of it, but as you finally got to your home, the best gift you could give her was yet to come.

"I have a surprise for you," you told Anna. "But first you'll have to let me cover your eyes," you continued. "Sure," Anna answered as you brought a blindfold to cover it.

You look at Anna's beautiful face. Everything about her was incredible. She had

the face of a model, but her incredibly slim body was also to die for. "Promise you'll do anything I ask," you told her. "Yes, I will," she answered.

"Take your top off," you told Anna, who obliged. "Your bra too, or you won't get my gift," you said afterwards. "Alright," she answered, showing you her perky tits. "Squeeze them," you commanded, Anna pinching her tits as you touched her bare belly. "You like that, don't you?" you ask her. "Yes, sir," Anna answers.

"No sir, you are going to call me daddy from now on," you told Anna. "Yes, Daddy," she answered. "Get on your knees and come take a peek at your gift," you told her, getting your crotch close to her pretty face and letting her feel your already hard bulge. "Wow, that's quite a big gift, Daddy; I've never had one like this before," she told you.

Anna touched your clothed bulge, giving your pants a few kisses and licks. "Can I have it, Daddy?" she asked. "Yes, come take your gift," you told her. Anna promptly obliged and pulled your pants down, your cock instantly popping out in her beautiful face.

"Suck it," you told Anna, her taking it very slowly as she had never handled a cock this big before. You started taking your shirt off as she gently kissed your tip and worked her mouth and hands in your shaft, trying to get it deeper in her throat. You took your belt off, wrapping it around her neck and pushing your shaft in her direction. "Gag on it for daddy," you say.

"Open your mouth," you told Anna, using the belt as a way to control her pace. Anna gagged a bit but quickly adjusted to your cock going in and out of her mouth before giving a few licks to the side of your shaft. "You seem very good at that for such a young girl," you told her. "Thank you, Daddy," she answered.

"You like when I stroke your cock like that, daddy?" Anna asked you. "Yes," you quickly answered. "Do you want to fuck my throat, Daddy?" she continued, giving you a hot, blindfolded blowjob. "Please, Daddy, fuck my throat," she kept begging, moving faster and faster down your cock.

You took Anna's blindfold off, letting her see the big cock she was sucking off. "You're so beautiful," you told her. "Thank you, Daddy," she said as she kept voraciously sucking your cock. "You like that, Daddy? Your dick is so good in my hand," she asks. "Keep talking to me," you said. "I love feeling your hard cock between my hands, daddy," she said.

Anna took your massive cock like a champion, bobbing her head hard on your shaft as she kept trying to find new angles to put it in her mouth. You watched as she spitted all over it, slapping it against her tongue and deepthroating it, enjoying her eagerness to take as she good young slut that she was.

"I can't wait for you to shove that big cock inside me, Daddy," Anna said to you. She was really enjoying the massive gift you had given her. Indeed, the temptation to just shove it inside this pretty young thing was enormous, but you had to warm her up a bit first.

"Lie down," you told Anna, who lay on your couch. Quickly, you took the bottom of her outfit and pulled her panties to the side, unveiling her pink slit. "Look at this perfect little pussy," you say to her. You immediately dove down on her, making her moan with your touch and your hard licks in her warm slit from the get-go. "Ahhhhh," she moaned as you reached to grab her tits as you spread her legs to eat her out.

More hot kisses between you and Anna followed as you kept touching her pussy while doing it. Your most primal impulses were quickly taking over, you kissing her with such intensity it felt like your life depended on it. Anna had truly awakened a long-dormant beast inside you, and you were ready to unleash it, even more so as you put a pair of fingers inside her wet slit and felt them already getting coated full of her juices.

"I want you so bad," you told Anna. "Me too, Daddy," she answers. "Damn, how can a girl be so beautiful at such a young age," you continue, groping her nipples as you keep kissing her, Anna stroking your cock while you do so.

"Suck my cock a bit more," you tell Anna, letting her take full ownership of your shaft and lick it from top to bottom as you lie on the couch. She gives you a beautiful smile that drives you crazy. "You look so sexy with that cock in your mouth," you tell her.

"I want more; grind on it," you tell Anna, letting her get on top of you as she gives you a few kisses before rubbing her folds against your throbbing shaft, teasing you to perfection as you give her ass a pair of soft spankings. You move up as she presses your cock against her body, sucking her beautiful boobs as she kisses you as hard as possible.

"Give me that pussy," you tell Anna. "It's all yours, daddy," she says, putting her back on the couch to eat more of the nectar from her slit. "Hmmmm," she softly moans as you move your mouth left and right in her folds, the beautiful expressions she makes while you eat it out.

You look at Anna in the eye, kissing her neck a couple of times before grabbing it. "You wanna play some games, little kitty?" you ask her. "Yes, Daddy," she answers with a big smile on her face before giving him a few more kisses.

You rub your cock against Anna's entrance before slowly penetrating her slit, taking it very slow at first. Her slit is as tight as you would expect. "So good," you tell her, Anna smiling and moaning as you passionately fuck her, trying to deal with the heat of your big cock in her burning pussy.

You carry Anna out of your living room, never pulling out of her as you take her into a hall full of mirrors. You pin her against the mirrors, letting her ride your cock as you watch it, sucking her tits. "Take this off," you tell her, putting Anna back on the ground as you pull her panties down, getting her fully naked for good. "Oh my God," you say as you worship her beautiful body from top to bottom, not sparing a single inch of it. You focus your attention on her pussy, pushing your tongue deep into her folds and then slowly moving up her body all the way to her tits.

"Do you want me to fuck in front of those mirrors?" you ask Anna. "Yes, Daddy," she obviously answers. "Say please," you reply to her. "Please, fuck me, daddy," she says. You turn her around, pushing your cock back in her pussy from behind and thrusting much faster this time. "HMMMMM," she moans as you can't resist the urge to pound that young pussy hard, even

"Look at you," you say to Anna as you fuck her hard in front of the mirror. You choke her a bit, letting her take a full look at her pretty face and sexy body as you take full ownership of her young slit. "You like this, you like watching daddy fuck you like a good little slut?" you ask her as you grab her tits. "Yes, I love that, Daddy," she says, lifting one of her legs for you to finger her pussy while you fuck her.

Your balls clap hard against Anna's cheeks as you increase the pace of your pounding. "HMMMMM, AHHHHHH," she moans, as you are completely addicted to her pussy. You slow down a bit to kiss her before fucking her hard one more time. "So good, so good," you say. You pull out and share some very hot kisses with Anna. "Go down," you tell her, letting her suck your cock full of her juices, looking in the mirror and enjoying both her beautiful face fully stuffed with your cock and her sexy back as she goes down your shaft, worshipping your balls and making slutty expressions for you.

"Let's go to my bedroom; I have much more to give you," you say to Anna. "I'll follow you everywhere you go, Daddy," she answers. In your bed, there is a gift containing one of the clothes you bought her at the mall. "Open it," you tell her, Anna obliging and unveiling a beautiful black lingerie.

"Put it on," you tell Anna, who starts dressing herself with the lingerie. "I'm ready to be a good girl for Daddy," she says. "You better be, because you look incredible wearing it, little black kitty," you tell her. "Meow," she purrs as you call her a cat.

You tie Anna's arms and give her ass soft spanks with a whip. "Yes, Daddy, spank me," she says. You tap right at her pussy, pulling the bottom of the lingerie to the side and sniffing her strawberry-flavored hole before making her lie on the bed and giving her tits a couple more spanks. "Oh fuck yes," she moans. You then move towards her beautiful legs, Anna spreading them wide open for you.

You grab Anna by her handcuffs. pinning her against the glass door that leads to the balcony. You give her tits a little massage and then start licking her pretty armpits as you tie her against the door. "Such a beautiful tits to show off to you daddy," you tell her, kissing Anna as you grope her boobs and then spanking them

"Oh yeah, Daddy," Anna moans as you grab her boobs together and suck them. "Let me see how sensitive they are," you say to her, hitting her nipples with your whip and grabbing them. You then move down and tease her pussy with the whip before pulling her panties down as you start pinching her pussy.

"You've got such a pretty little pussy," you tell Anna, playing with it and softly licking it. "I'll get it nice and wet for you, Daddy," you tell her as you put a pair of fingers inside. "Fuck," she moans as you work both your fingers and your tongue in her pussy, Anna moaning as you blow the air of your nostrils in her clit.

"Are you ready for more cock?" you ask Anna. "Yes, Daddy, give me more cock," she begs. You untie her. "Bend over," you tell Anna, who gets on all fours in your bed. "But first, I'm gonna eat more of that beautiful young pussy," you tell her.

You dive between Anna's cheeks and eat her out a little more. "Such a juicy young pussy, the way it should be," you praise her wet hole. "Thank you, Daddy," she says with another big smile, loving the way you worship her pussy. "Your tongue feels so good in my pussy, Daddy," she says. "How do I taste, Daddy?" she asks. "You taste wonderful," you tell her.

"Put your big cock back inside me, Daddy," Anna begs. You tease her a big one, rubbing your cock against her entrance before spreading her cheeks and slowly inserting it into her pussy. "Right there," you tell her. "OH FUCK," Anna moans as you grab her waist and insert it deeper.

"Go deep, Daddy," Anna begs as she spreads her cheeks for you. "Spread me open, Daddy, take that cock nice and deep in my pussy. I wanna feel every fucking inch of you, Daddy," she says. "Does that pussy feel good, Daddy?" she asks. "Of course.

You tease Anna a bit, taking your cock in and out of her pussy. "OH MY GOD, YES, YES, DADDY, FUCK MY LITTLE PUSSY, HARDER, PLEASE, MAKE ME CUM," she moans. You keep increasing the pace, grabbing her ass and kissing her back. "My pussy is so fucking wet for your big cock daddy; it's so fucking good inside me. Fill that little pussy with your big cock, Daddy," she begs.

"Spank me, Daddy, I love that," Anna says as you grab her ass and spank it. She starts fingering herself as your thrusts only get faster. "Please don't stop, Daddy, OH MY GOD," she keeps begging.

"YES DADDY, YES DADDY, FUCK ME, GIVE IT TO ME, NICE AND DEEP, GIVE ME THAT HARD FUCKING COCK IN MY PUSSY, DADDY," Anna moans. "Choke me, Daddy," she begs, you getting on top of her. "Fucking pound me, fucking pound me, Daddy; give me that fucking cock," Anna begs, moving her. "I'm daddy's little slut, use my little hole," she continues to beg as you grab her. "PLEASE DON'T FUCKING STOP, DADDY," she screams, putting her face down and ass up as you drive your cock deep down her pussy.

"FUCK DADDY, YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM, PLEASE, DADDY, I WANNA CUM," Anna tells you. "Then cum for your daddy," you tell her as you give Anna's ass the spanking that makes her explode, getting your bedsheets wet. "FUCK, I'M CUMMING," she screams. "Come taste your fucking pussy on daddy's cock again," you tell her.

"You're so kind for letting me taste that cock, daddy," Anna says as she drops on her knees to suck it. You grab her pretty face and start fucking her mouth as hard as possible. You make her choke on your cock, grabbing her long hair and. "Please, Daddy, fuck my throat," she begs as she closes her eyes and just lets you stuff your cock to the fullest inside her. "Look at this, I love the way you drool over daddy's cock" you say as Anna gets her mouth fully stuffed of it.

"Is that what you like?" you ask Anna. "Yes, daddy, my pussy tastes so good in daddy's cock," she answers as she gets back on the bed and strokes your cock against her body. "Your cock feels so good in my hands; I'm so wet, Daddy," she says. "Play with your pussy for Daddy," you tell her, watching her masturbate. "Show me that pink pussy for me," you command. "Look at how open it is for you, Daddy; it needs your cock back inside it," she says.

"Bad girl," you tell Anna, bending her in your lap and spanking her ass. "I love being a bad girl for daddy to spank me," she says as you keep hitting her ass. "Look how wet I am, she says, rubbing her pussy on your cock.

"Fuck, you're driving me so crazy," you tell Anna, getting on top of her and kissing her passionately. Anna wraps her arms around you and fingers her pussy. You put her in a spooning position, looking in her beautiful eyes as you go back to pound her wet pussy. "Rub me, Daddy, she begs as you reach to massage her pussy.

"Tell me how good my pussy feels, daddy," Anna says as her walls clench hard against your cock. "FUCK, YOU'RE COCK FEELS SO GOOD INSIDE ME, KEEP RUBBING MY CLIT, SHOVE THAT COCK INSIDE ME, DADDY," she begs. You alternate slow and fast thrusts. "In and out, just like that, Daddy, fuck me nice and hard," Anna begs. You attack her pussy faster. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum again," she moans, her legs quivering as you fuck her. "GIVE ME THAT BIG COCK, DADDY, IT FEELS SO GOOD INSIDE ME," she begs for more.

"Use my little pussy, Daddy; give it to me; I'm gonna cum," Anna moans as she closes her eyes and just lets you take her pussy to the fullest. "Please don't stop fucking me," she begs. You ramp up the intensity. "YES DADDY, YES DADDY, SPREAD ME OPEN WITH THAT HUGE COCK, YESSSS," Anna begs. You finger her clit hard and wrap your arms around her neck, giving her a romantic kiss as you show no mercy towards her pink little pussy.

"I'M YOUR NAUGHTY LITTLE SLUT, FUCK ME, YOUR DIRTY FUCKING WHORE DADDY, POUND MY LITTLE PUSSY," Anna begs as loud clapping sounds come out of your balls hitting her cheeks. "I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING FUCK," Anna screams loudly as you give her a leg-shaking orgasm that knocks her air out. You pull out and start fingering her pussy hard, enjoying her juices covering your bedsheet. "AHHHH FUCK," she screams, her legs quivering nonstop with your hard but precise touch.

You kiss Anna as you let her recover her breath. "Such a pretty girl," you praise her beauty again. "Do you wanna sit on Daddy's cock?" you ask Anna. "Of course," she answers as she gets on top of you and lets your shaft sink deep in her pussy. You let Anna freely bounce on your shaft, grabbing her tits and enjoying her pretty face making incredible expressions as she goes up and down it.

"Your cock looks so good inside me daddy, I love waching it disappear inside my little pussy, I'm so wet for you, daddy," Anna says as she keeps moving faster on your cock. "Let me use that dick, Daddy, just like that; you're making me so fucking wet," she says. You spank Anna's pretty face as she rides it. "Harder," you tell her.

"You like the way I grind on your big dick, don't you, Daddy?" Anna asks. You can't hold anymore, pumping her pussy upwards like crazy as soon as she says these words. "YES, FUCK ME, DADDY, PLEASE DON'T STOP," she begs as you pump your cock up her pussy like a piston, her tits jiggling nonstop. "HARDER, DADDY, PLEASE DON'T FUCKING STOP; FUCK ME HARDER, HARDER, HARDER. YES, DADDY, YES, DADDY," Anna begs, almost knocking your breath away.

You let Anna take a break as she deepthroats your cock to the fullest to taste herself on it. Quickly after that, she gets back on top of your big cock, tilting her body forward as she goes back to ride it. You soon spank her ass again. "Yes, Daddy, spank me, please," Anna says. She tries to squat on your cock, but you give her no chance to settle, attacking her pussy hard with fast thrusts as soon as she starts riding your dick again.

"FUCK YES, YES, YES, DADDDY, YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM, POUND ME HARD, DADDY, POUND ME UNTIL I CUM ALL OVER THAT BIG COCK, FUCK MY TIGHT LITTLE PUSSY, OH MY FUCKING GOD!" Anna screams as you grab her ass and clap her cheeks hard. "I'm so fucking open for you, daddy," she says as you spread her cheeks and tease her pussy going in and out of it slowly. "You love my little wet open pussy, Daddy," she says.

You choke Anna as you pound her pussy hard and deep. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD," she begs as she gets pounded like crazy. "I'm Daddy's little whore," she says. "CHOKE ME, DADDY, CHOKE ME," she begs as you increase the pressure on her neck. "RUB MY CLIT, FUCK ME HARD, DADDY," she continues to beg, you pounding her pussy like there's no tomorrow, almost making Anna lose her bounce. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, AHHHH, AHHHH, OH MY GOD," she moans.

"Suck it, dirty little young whore," you tell Anna as you finally stop pounding her. "What a nasty girl you are," you tell her as Anna dives her pretty face into your balls.

"Spread your legs," you tell Anna as you tap her entrance with your whip before eating her out a bit. "OH MY GOD, YES, DADDY, OH FUCK," she moans as you attack her creamy pussy and grope her tits, Anna sticking her tongue out as she gets her pink pussy worshipped one more time.

"GIVE ME MORE OF THAT FUCKING COCK, DADDY," Anna begs as you insert it back in her pussy in a missionary position. "It's your pussy, Daddy; take it all," she says. "Please chome me daddy," Anna begs, you grabbing her neck and fucking her hard and deep, spanking her face while kissing her.

"AHHHHHH," Anna moans as you use her pussy to the fullest, making your cock bulge under her belly and her tits bounce as you spread her legs and put her in a piledriver position in the bed. You slap her thighs a bit. "Fuck me daddy, I'm your naughty little girl, use my little pussy daddy, oh my god" she moans.

You lick Anna's pussy while her body stays upside down. "Yes daddy, lick my little pussy," she begs, fingering her clit and squirting in your face. "FUCKKKK," she moans as you worship her pink young hole. You put your cock back in her pussy, licking her feet as you start fucking her.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK THE SHITTY OUT OF ME, DADDY, I'M YOUR NAUGHTY LITTLE GIRL, GIVE ME THAT BIG FUCKING COCK, DADDY" Anna screams as she fingers her clit while you put her pretty feet in her mouth. You pound Anna like crazy, choking her and slapping her face as she loses her breath. "OH FUCK," she screams, panting hard after your rough fucking.

You flip Anna around. taking her pussy from behind in a prone bone position, going so deep she needs to bite the bedsheets to cope with the heat. "FUCK ME NICE AND HARD, DADDY," she begs. You do just as she wants. "Pull my hair, Daddy," she begs, you following, Anna rolling her eyes as her walls clench hard around your cock.

"Use my little whore pussy, Daddy; you fucking love it, don't you?" Anna asks. Indeed you love it; you haven't fucked a pussy this good in years. That young girl is so amazing you don't want to stop. And neither does she, as Anna begs you to keep fucking her. You give more spanks on her ass. "I'M COMING, DADDY," she screams. You slow down, kissing Anna's pretty face and enjoying her creaming all over your cock, before increasing the speed and making her roll her eyes and her legs quiver with hard, deep thrusts inside her. "FUCK, DADDY, YESSSS," she blissfully screams.

"My pussy is so fucking open, Daddy," Anna tells you. "Then sit on my face and let me eat it," you answer her. "Yes daddy, I'll do whatever you say, I'll do whatever you want me to, I'm daddy's little whore," she says, grinding her pussy in your face. "Your pussy is so fucking wet," you tell her, groping Anna's tits as you eat her out. "Right, Daddy," she says.

Anna walks to the mirror in your bedroom. "Want to try this again? Watch your beautiful pussy get pounded by daddy's big cock?" you ask her. "Yes, Daddy," she answers. You get Anna on her knees close to the mirror and start rubbing your cock against her pretty face. She licks your shaft alongside the mirror's glass before you grab her neck and put her back on her feet.

You take your cock back inside Anna's dripping wet slit and start fucking Anna vigorously from behind in the mirror. You grab her head and look at her pretty face as she moans and screams, out of breath with your fast thrusts. "IT'S YOUR PUSSY, DADDY, IT'S YOUR PUSSY, I'M ALL YOURS, I'M DADDY'S LITTLE WHORE, FUCK ME HARD." Anna screams as you pound her nonstop, grabbing her hair and pulling it down as you attack her pretty young pussy.

"That's what you want, don't you?" you ask Anna. "YES, DADDY, THAT'S WHAT I WANT. FUCK ME HARD, PLEASE," she answers. You pin her against the mirror. "Put your tongue out," you tell her, making Anna lick the mirror as she makes it foggy with her breath. You lift one of her legs, grabbing it as you kiss her and intensify the speed of your thrusts. "YES, FUCK ME, DADDY," she screams before your kisses muffle her screams. Anna clings to the mirror. "FUCK ME HARD, DADDY, I'M YOUR DIRTY FUCKING WHORE, YES, DADDY, YES, DADDY, PLEASE DON'T STOP," she begs.

"OH YEAH, RUB THAT CLIT FOR ME, DADDY. OH YEAH, PUT THAT FINGER IN MY ASS," Anna begs as you use one of your hands to finger her pussy while shoving that thumb on your other hand up her asshole. "DON'T STOP, DADDY, GIVE EVERY INCH OF THAT COCK TO ME, YES," she keeps begging as her body shakes with your rough pounding. You passionately kiss her, giving her ass some good spanking too. "Look at that pretty face," you say as you watch her getting obliterated in front of the mirror.

"Tell me what you are," you ask Anna. "I'M DADDY'S LITTLE WHORE," she promptly answers. "Use my little pussy until you cum, daddy," she begs. "Please, Daddy, cum all over my face," she continues to beg. You pull out and tell Anna to kiss her reflection in the mirror. "Kiss that fucking whore," you say to her, stroking your cock as you prepare to unload in her pretty face.

"I'm gonna cum on both these whores," you tell Anna, referring to her reflection. "Yes, please, cum for me, daddy," she begs. You unload right between her face and the mirror, covering both of them up as your cum paints a cat's whisker on Anna's face. "Clean it up," you tell her, Anna licking every last drop of cum that fell onto the mirror like the good girl she is. "Your face looks even prettier with my cum all over it," you tell her.

"Thank you, Daddy; it looks like I was a good girl to deserve this much cum," Anna says as she sucks your cock one last time and. "Are you satisfied now, Daddy?" she asks. "Yes," you answer her. "You love my little pussy, don't you?" she asks again, grabbing your cum from her face and swallowing it down. "Yes, the best pussy I've ever had in years," you tell her.

"Well, you can have me anytime you want," Anna says as she prepares to get back home. She had already gotten her clothes ready and grabbed your gifts and was ready to leave until you heard a voice coming from downstairs.

"Dad, I'm back home."

"Fuck, my daughter has arrived. I have to hide you, Anna."

[barnesmutt]

tease him

perv boss!bucky x perv employee!reader ᥫ᭡.

fic warnings: smut, nsfw content, groping, no protection, slight power dynamic, mentions of y/n, p in v, f!reader, not proofread.

kinda part 2 to the blurb, didn’t know what direction to take it

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀

your mind had been elsewhere, especially today, 3 days ago around lunchtime everyone was over-poured with work, you had already finished yours for the day, thus-far trying to help others, your coworker had asked you kindly to make coffee in the lunchroom, slightly rushing you had knocked a container of creamer over, increasingly frustrated your breath picked up before your boss, james, walked up behind you. pressing his pelvis against the back of you, grabbing the creamer and cleaning it up. “i’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”

back to the present, today was practically the dead opposite, only half the workers really needed to come in, it was a quiet day and your mind was racking the entire time, especially being near bucky, his cologne only sending you straight back to the other day.

you wondered if he did it on purpose, jutted his hips against you in the middle of the day, just to throw you off. maybe he thought-

a snap of fingers in your face draws you out of trance. “hey? are you listening to me?” he groans at you, pinching his brows together. “i’ve been talking about our plan for 10 minutes, what planet are you on?”

“i-i’m sorry sir, i just didn’t get alot of sleep and-“

“sure you didn’t.”

slightly startled when you look up, he’s refusing to break eye contact, his breath heavy.

“stay late tonight, come to my office before you head out.”

that night, around 9pm, your heart racing as your last coworker says bye, grabbing her bags and leaving, you glance around, the lamp still on in buckys office, blaring thru the curtains. before you can even knock he cracks the door, waving you in desperately.

the second you’re inside his hands are around your hips tightly, staring down at you intensely.

“you gonna tell me why you’ve actually been walking around like you’re drugged, y/n?”

“I don’t k-“

“stop. don’t lie to me.”

“I just haven’t been getting rest, y’know stress and all sir..”

“it isn’t cause you felt how fucking hard i am for you?”

the silence instantly drags on, he should’ve known your throat would go dry.

“come on, baby, you’re always so good for me, don’t lose it now, is that why? you can tell me.”

despite your better judgment, and the fear of him firing you. (which he would never do anyways, not to his best girl as he calls you.) you nod, too nervous to look up at him.

“good, you know how hard it is to hold back when i see you? you weren’t wearing a bra that day.”

“i- huh?” you stiffle out, completely oblivious.

“yeah baby, running around helping everyone, could see your fucking tits thru that blouse all day.

so,, it was on purpose, he was doing it to fuck with you.

you’re bent over his desk, papers and pens scattered across the floor, a broken mug.

he’s fucking into you, raw on top of it, your skirt ridden up and your panties around your ankles.

he slaps your ass with one hand while speeding up, the other groping your chest. groaning loud enough you can tell he’s been dying to be inside of you.

“you’re the biggest fucking tease ever, think i can’t tell when you pout your fucking chest forward, i can see when you stare at my bulge baby, not even fucking trying to hide it.”

oh he was so right, you were just as sick, you even stole one of his ties before when everyone went home for the day, excusing “it’s okay, i can close up” just to press it against your face while fingering yourself.

on the other hand, currently he’s fucking losing it at every noise you make, rubbing your clit till you cum on him, which doesn’t take long before you breakdown. whining to himself anytime you twitch, sweat pooling on his forehead as his hand pushes you down roughly, spilling inside of you.

“ohhh fuckkk me baby you’re so good-“ he whines out shakily, panting in your ear and wrapping his arms around your stomach to keep you held up.

that night he ends up driving you back to his house, collapsing in bed with you after making you tea, contently falling asleep on him, trying to forget you literally just had sex with your boss.

—————

i need to recreate secretary (2002) with him..

also i hate this and wanna cry convince me it’s good before i lose it

[sydwritess]

Heaven Above

Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Summary: Charles gets asked to do an interview about him, and also his late father, giving a grave amount of detail about his late father. When the cameras aren't on him, he goes through a hard time, but you are there to support him for it.

First Person POV

Charles father had passed away in 2017 from a long term illness. Charles had seemed to be doing better with it, but obviously it still lives in the back of his mind.

His fathers death date had been coming up, and usually the boys would go out and celebrate at his favorite restaurant, honoring him in his favor. Charles often talked about his dad, and how that motivated him to compete in Formula One.

I was in my apartment, watching TV when all the sudden my phone buzzed on the table next to me. I look at it to see Charles was calling me.

"Hey, what's up?" I ask him.

"Nothing much. Do you think I can come over?" He asked. His tone sad.

"Yeah of course. Is everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah. I'll see you in a bit." He said, and then hung up. I didn't assume much because I knew it was close to June 20th, so of course he was going to feel a bit down. I continued watching TV, sprawled on the couch when I heard a knock on the door. I go tup to go open it, seeing Charles standing there.

"Hey, come in." I said. He nodded and walked in.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"I need to talk to you about something." He said, sitting down at the dinning table.

"Okay." I said slowly. Walking over to him. "What about?" I ask.

"I was at work today, getting all my meetings wrapped up, and one of the Netflix producers came up to me." He said.

"Okay." I said.

"He asked me if I would be comfortable talking about my father for this next episode, they are about to do." He said slowly.

"Okay. I mean that's good, but how do you feel about that?" I ask, grabbing his hand.

"I don't know. Nervous?" He questioned himself.

"Did you accept his offer?" I asked.

"No." He said, looking down. "I didn't know what to think at the time."

"That's understandable. Do you feel like your ready to do it?"

"I don't know. I don't know if I could sit through it that whole time."

"Do you think they would let you take a break if you needed to?"

"Probably. They have for other people." He said.

"Okay, you can start there. Or do you not even know if you want to."

"I feel like I do. I don't think I could get through it all in one sitting."

"I'm sure they'd make an exception. I mean, I don't think they are heartless people, you know?" I said. He nodded. We sat there in silence, hand in hand while he thought about it.

"I think I'll do it." He said, standing up. "I'm going to call them." He said.

"Okay, I'm here." I smiled, letting go of my hand as we went into the spare bedroom to call them. He was talking for a while with the person until he came out of the room.

"They said I can do it tomorrow." He said, sitting back down.

"That's great." I smiled.

Me and Charles woke up early that morning, making sure he was ready for the interview.

"Do you want me to drive?" I ask.

"No I'm good." He said, picking up his keys, dropping them instantly, trying to pick them up with his shaky hands. I picked them up for him.

"I think I better drive." I said.

"Yeah." He said quietly. We made our way down to the lobby and out to the car. We got in and I started driving to the circuit.

"Surprised you know how to drive this." He said.

"I've gotten many lessons when I was a kid." I said laughing. We eventually reached the parking lot of the circuit and got out.

"Damn, never seen it this empty." He said, looking around the parking lot.

"I know." I said surprised. A couple of racers and CEO's were here. We walked to the entrance, swiping his work card, letting us into the paddock. We made our way over to the room that said "Netflix" On the door and went in.

"Charles, y/n. Glad your here." A man said. "Timothy, pleasure to meet you." The man said, shaking my hand.

"Hi." I said shortly.

"Right, let's get you situated, yeah?" Timothy said. Charles nodded and sat in the chair in the middle of the room, lights around him to make him appear better. I sat in the corner watching him, making sure I was out of the way.

"Okay, Season 7, Episode 5, your call." Timothy said, snapping the producer board.

"Everything I do in my life is all for one thing. To become a world champion." He paused. "I wake up in the morning and think about this. I go to sleep in evening, I think about this. But other then that, it's my home race. Monaco." He said, the producer put his hand up, telling Charles to stop silently. The other camera crew started rolling some clips of some races, and Charles with his friends.

The producer put his hand down, signaling he could talk again.

"If this is the year, then I've got to take the opportunity. But obviously, considering what happened in the past." He said. Timothy put his hand back up. "Then, it's... it's quite difficult." He finished.

"Let's just say that in the past... Monaco hasn't been successful to me." He paused. "I really don't believe in bad luck or curse. But even though I don't believe in it, I hate hearing it." He said. Some more clips ran through of Charles, different Monaco races.

"Even if there is no curse. It's a lot of pressure. You ask yourself questions. What can I improve? And it might look impossible, but I need to make this dream come true." He said. More clips ran through again. Some even of his friends talking about him.

"I could hear the engines while I was going to school, and I just. I just didn't listen to anything. I just wanted to go and see Formula 1 cars driving around. I was obviously dreaming to be part of that race one day." He said.

"To win Monaco means so much for my whole family. My father was so passionate about racing. For us, the holidays were going to the karting track." He said smiling.

"My father, was super supportive. Whenever he was seeing something that I wasn't doing right, he was very honest with me in a very loving way."

"And that was super important, to always be honest. Unfortunately, he became unwell. We learnt that he would, not making it, that there was like two, three weeks maybe left. I was in F2 at that time, and it was obviously the last step before F1. It was very difficult for me to accept him leaving, not... not, not seeing me and, and him realize that dream." He said. "So one day I had lied, and... and told him that I had signed the F1 contract. And I remember how incredibly happy he was. However, very quickly, I felt so bad for lying to him." He said.

"My mom was like 'Charles, you shouldn't do that, and lie to dad like this.'"

"I think about my father a lot. I just have to manage my state of mind." He paused. "In Alfa Romeo, I remember him saying very often that I should be nicer with myself. Now were reunited in Ferrari. Quali is probably the moment of the weekend where the tension is the highest." Charles continues talking more about the Monaco race, the crew showing some clips while he is talking to the camera, then it shows the clip of Charles winning Monaco.

"I did not only realize my dream, but my fathers dream. He's probably celebrating it from above. It makes it so, so special that I just let all the emotions run out." He said. The camera finally stopped rolling, the crew started doing last minute necessities before shutting everything.

"That was amazing Charles. Thank you. We will be in touch soon." Timothy said. Charles shook his hand and we both walked out of the room together. We were walking down the long hallway out to the car. Our hands intertwined. It was silent. The only thing heard were out footsteps.

"What'd you think?" He asked quietly.

"You were great. How did you feel?" I asked.

"Alright. A bit shocked I didn't quit." He said, looking down at the ground.

"Honestly me to." I said. The car ride was quiet. We reached my apartment in a quick time. We walked through the door, I had set the car keys down, and walked into the apartment more.

"You want anything to eat?" I asked.

"No, I'm alright." He said quietly. Still lingering by the door. I walk over to him silently and hug him. He hugged back.

"It's like you always know what I need." He whispered.

"I know what it's like. To loose someone close to you. But you don't need to go through it alone." I said quietly.

"I know. Mon Amour. I guess it is hard." He said.

"We can get through it together. That's all we can do is push forward." I said pulling away from him. "I'm not saying you have to forget him. But I think he would be happy to know that you are living your best life. Like you said, he's always looking down on you." I said. I saw his eyes fill with tears.

"That's what hurts the most. He isn't here with me now." He said. His tears now falling.

"I get that. But trust me, like you said, he'd be so happy for you." I said wiping his tears away gently. "He is happy for you." I corrected. He pulled me in for another hug and we stayed like that for a moment or two.

"Thank you. I honestly don't know what I would do if you weren't here." He said, his voice just above a whisper.

"You know I always am. You know you can always tell me how your feeling. It's normal to express your feelings. I'll always listen." I said. I felt him nod slowly. His tears still soaking into my shirt. We stayed hugging for a while. Just being there for him was all he needed in this moment. And that's what I gave him.

Okay, did I tear up making this? Maybe? Did I rewatch the whole episode, typing word for word? Also maybe. But hey, I wanted to give y'all the best writing pieces I can so it's okay! Comment to be added to the tag list!

[itzahazbinwriter]

Too Hot in New Orleans

(Human!Alastor x f!Reader)

CW: GRAPHIC SMUT. Alastor being a tease, referenced death, referenced violence

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (one day I'll have a pretty banner thingy like other people do) - THIS IS AN 18+ STORY

(CRAZY thank you to my girl @degen-fics for betaing this for me and making sure i didn't use the same words/phrase 50+ times <33)

If you enjoy this, want to talk about this besides on Tumblr, or just want to - maybe come join the VoxTech discord server where I'm feral as fuck. And also there are some other amazing artists, writers, and fans! https://discord.gg/e6GXYCwqtu

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Hot. It was just too hot. Every inch of you dripped sweat in the unrelenting summer New Orleans heat. The thought of even the littlest of clothing made you too warm. Even your slip had been peeled away in a desperate attempt to cool down. You laid on the cooler wooden floors of your home, a silk robe discarded nearby. There was nothing on this planet that could move you from this only mildly cooler spot. 

As if summoned by the very thought, there was a knock at your door. You groaned, hoping they'd go away. Opening the door would mean more heat and you couldn’t handle even just the idea of that. You closed your eyes, just wanting to be cool. Please go away, you pleaded with them silently. But some things were not to be. 

After a moment, there was a pause in the knocking and you imagined they'd be listening at the door to hear if anyone was home. Thankfully, your bare form was tucked out of sight from the door. It'd be a scandal if anyone could see you lying naked in the parlor of your home. No proper young lady would dare! 

The knocking resumed and you groaned again. Wasn't it obvious that no one was home or didn't want to answer the door? You startled when you heard a familiar voice call out your name. Alastor... good gracious, how could you have forgotten about your plans? Quickly, you sat up, calling out, "Be right there!"

Standing, you quickly draped your robe around your form before answering the door. You opened it and instantly greeted Alastor, your smile matching his own. Before he could say anything, his smile faltered.

“Hello, Alastor! I--” You started to speak before you saw his cheeks start to turn pink as his eyes darted down your form then quickly back to your face. 

"Perhaps I should come back some other time since you are.... Ahem… indisposed." He averted his eyes, something he never did, favoring eye contact. You glanced down and let out a soft startled noise akin to a squeak. The silky robe you put on was falling off one shoulder and open down to your navel, showing one of your bare breasts to the famous radio host. 

"Al, I am.... oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Gasping, you clutched the silk robe closed so as to not expose yourself any more. Your cheeks burned as you fumbled over another apology, tears stinging at the corner of your eyes out of sheer horror. 

There was a long moment of silence that scared you more than anything. “Cher..." Alastor's voice was lower, more gravelly than you'd ever heard before, notably without his usual radio perfect transatlantic accent. A moment passed, as if he was trying to decide what to do next. 

You watched him with wide eyes, feeling your skin prickle under the scrutiny. Was this the end of your pseudo-friendship with him? You opened your mouth to speak but never got the chance. He pushed forward into your home, making you stumble back. The front door shutting behind him sent a chill down your spine. It felt so… final, but you had no idea what to expect.

For a moment, the only sound between the two of you was shaking breathing and eerie silence. Then, Alastor leaned forward, one hand softly cupping the left side of your face as he delicately pressed his lips to yours. You let out a small gasp before pressing your lips against his, scared but too enthralled to draw back. He pulled back for a moment, eyes seeming to search yours for something. You didn’t know what he looked for, but you nodded before he closed the tiny gap between the two of you. 

The second kiss sent another unexpected chill down your spine. Kissing Alastor felt so dream-like; never had he expressed interest beyond friendship with you. The faint early attraction you had to him never fully faded, but you were content enough with the situation. For him to now kiss you like this, react like this… it was a fantasy come true. You couldn’t believe this was real, but if you were dreaming, you never wanted to wake up as you moved your lips against his. 

Carefully, Alastor placed a hand on your hip and closed the gap between you, pressing against you lightly to make you step backwards into your home. You let him guide you as the two of you continued to kiss, too distracted to care where Alastor took you as long as the kissing didn’t stop. 

It didn’t take long for your knees to press against the couch and you eased yourself down, finally breaking the kiss and his hold on you. Breathing hard, you stared up at the smiling man hovering, hesitating over you. “Do you want this?” His voice was barely above a whisper. Despite it all, he was still a gentleman. 

Instead of answering verbally, you reached out and fisted the fabric of his shirt, having abandoned his usual suit in the unforgiving heat. He used one hand to hold your wrist before you could try to pull him down on top of you. “I need your words, cher. I… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop once we…” His voice trailed off, leaving you a little breathless at the implication of you making him lose his careful control, making him crack from his perfected radio persona simply by showing him your body. 

“Alastor,” his name sounded like a prayer from your lips as you tugged his shirt despite his grip on you, “I want this. I need this.” Something behind the radio host’s eyes seemed to change and it sent a spark of desire through you as he let go of your wrist, leaned down and closed the distance again, biting your bottom lip before kissing you. 

You released your grip on his shirt as he closed the gap between you. Instead, you slide your hand over his shoulder and the nape of his neck, his hands wrapping around your waist. Thick brown curls tangled around your fingers as you tugged lightly. Alastor growls into the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip. Breaking the kiss, he pulled back long enough for you to get a good look at him. His eyes were wild, but stern. “Don’t tug, darling. I’ll have to tie you up otherwise.” Oh. That sent some thrill straight through your body. Your heart raced as you stared at him, mouth open and chest heaving. “Oh cher, you look good enough to eat.”

Alastor leaned back down again, kissing you even deeper than before, using his tongue to push past your lips. It felt like he was going to consume you, and you wanted nothing else. You arched your back to press your upper body to his; the silk of your robe teasing your nipples into hardness, sending an electric pulse to your loins. He swallowed your moan before sliding his hands down your back, gliding over the silk robe, to angle your hips against his. Arching into him, you moaned again when you felt firmness against your inner thigh. He broke the kiss and pulled back enough to stare into your eyes, and you whimpered. Another smile tugged at his lips, before he licked his lips. “I’m going to savor you…” He promised in a whisper before pulling away slightly. “But not on your couch, cher.” 

Alastor stood, pulling his arms from behind you. His eyes scanned over you and you could only imagine the picture you painted, panting and staring at him with your robe barely covering you anymore. Despite the heat, you shivered and bit your bottom lip, tearing open the tender flesh. Blood started to spill from your lip and his eyes focused on it with a sharp, thrilling intensity. Shakily, you took in a deep breath and felt the silk robe start to slide down your shoulder again as you started to sit up from the couch. “Alastor…” It was hard to recognize your own voice, low, gravely and breathy. 

He extended his hand to help you up. As you grabbed his hand, it felt like he was on fire, just like you. It took barely a tug of his hand for you to be pressed against him completely again, barely balanced on your feet. Quickly, he pressed his lips to yours again, tongue swiping at the blood from your lip. A wave of arousal crashed through your body again as you pulled away, hand still in his, and pulling him towards the stairs. His lips were stained a faint red as you stared at him. 

To you, there was nothing in the world but you and Alastor. Not even the oppressive New Orleans heat could compare to the desire burning in your heart and loins. You led him through your home, up the stairs, and to your bedroom, glancing behind you every few steps to make sure this wasn’t a fever dream. He followed, grin still in place. 

As soon as the two of you reached the bedroom, Alastor closed the door behind himself. “Darling, I simply must taste you.” You gasped as he spun you to face him, the light silk of your robe flying open. His eyes trailed over your skin, slowly moving from your lips to your neck, down to your exposed breasts and tightened 

nipples, tracing over your soft stomach and down to your most private area. Nervous, you bit down on your bottom lip and tried to move your arms in front of your body. Him being fully clothed… it felt surreal to be bare in a way no one but perhaps your mother had ever seen. Having forgotten you held one of his hands in your own, it startled you 

when he pulled the arm away from you. “No, cher. Let me see you. Let me worship you.” His voice was barely above a whisper. ���Please, my darling…” Hearing the proud man beg for you, your knees nearly gave out beneath you. You moved your arms out of the way and released his hand to shrug the robe completely off, breathing hard. 

“Alastor…” His name felt like a prayer falling from his lips. “Alastor, please…” you begged him breathlessly. He didn’t hesitate to close the gap between your bodies. One hand reached up to cup your cheek as he kissed you again. You felt the soft cotton of his shirt brush against your skin, teasing you even more. Shifting your legs, you could feel moisture between your thighs - the moisture that previously only came when you touched yourself. 

Alastor’s other hand drifted to your waist and pulled you completely against him, chest to chest, hip to hip. You shuddered at the feeling of him straining against his pants, opening your mouth to let his tongue move against yours again. His hand moved from your bare waist, up your side with the softest of touch so goosebumps formed, slowing down along the sides of your breasts. He pulled away to stare into your eyes, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re lovely, far too lovely for this lowly sinner… but I will cherish you as you’ve never been cherished before. Is that alright, my love?” 

You didn’t have a chance to answer before he reclaimed your lips for a passionate kiss then moved his lips down to your neck. He pressed delicate kisses to the column of your neck, moving down with each one. “Alastor, please… I, I don’t know if I can stand much longer.” You barely recognized your voice, breathy and desperate as it was. He pulled away from his kisses, grinning as both of his hands moved to your hips, gripping the fat of them tightly. 

“Of course, cher. I’ll take care of your every need.” He lifted you with ease and moved in such a way for your legs to be wrapped around him. The very core of your being pressed into the hardness in his pants and you let out a breathy whimper. “Oh, you make the best noises. I wonder what others I can get from you.” 

There was no way he didn’t feel your wetness seeping into his trousers and the thought made you blush and try to hide your face in his neck. He chuckled before he took a step forward and then leaned down. “Let go, darling,” he ordered once you felt the softness of your neatly made bed against your back. 

You obliged and fell back onto the bed, sprawled out so he could see every single inch of your body. His stare felt like electricity running through your body before he slid onto his knees. He hovered over your naked form, looking intensely at you as your flushed chest heaved. “Do you still want me, cher?” The whisper felt heavy in the moment and you knew he’d stop if you asked, but that was the furthest thing from your mind. 

“Yes, Alastor, please.” You reached up, lightly tugging him down on top of you, him having to brace himself with his arms to not fall completely on you - it was one of the few times he seemed just as off balance by this as you. Your lips met again. Intoxicating was the only way to describe his kisses - every move made you warm like whiskey, just as addictive on the tongue. He obliged you a few kisses before starting to kiss down your neck, each spot tingling for a moment after every time he pressed his lips against your skin.

Once he reached your collarbone, he switched from soft kisses to playful bites. His teeth scraped lightly against your bone and you shivered at the intense feeling. “Al…” He hummed in response before switching back to kisses as he kissed down the center of your chest, trailing towards your breasts but stopping for a moment as he reached the skin in between them. His eyes darted up to meet yours before he moved to begin kissing and nipping at the mound of your breasts. An animal-like whine escaped the back of your throat at the sensation of his mouth on you; the whine turned into a keening noise as he slipped his tongue over your nipple before dragging it into his mouth. He started to suck lightly against your breast, making your back arch towards him. His hand slid behind your back, your nipple hard between his lips as he held you close.

A light graze of his teeth against your nipple made you moan louder than you ever imagined. You felt him grin against your breast before he sucked a little harder. Your hands clawed at his clothed back, needing desperately to touch him, to let him know how good he made you feel. His chuckle against your back made your nipple 

vibrate, sending another sharp flash of arousal to pool in the bottom of your stomach, maybe even leak out of you with how you were spread out underneath Alastor. After a few more moments of sucking, he pulled away; a string of drool stayed connected between your nipple and his mouth as he moved to the other breast to give it the same attention. His hand on your back flexed, nails starting to press into your skin and trailing down in claw marks down your spine. Instead of pain, the pressure made you whimper again. “Alastor, Alastor, please.” You chanted his name, desperately wanting him to do more; whatever that was. 

The clawing down your spine stopped right at the small of your back and he pulled away from your nipple with a tiny last lick as he looked at you. You could only imagine with mild horror how you must look. Completely bare to a man that was fully dressed, not even one courting you as your breasts heaved after having your nipples teased even further. 

“Beautiful, cher. Simply beautiful.” He praised as he slowly drew back to kneeling on the bed, pulling his arm from behind your back. You smiled at the compliment before watching with rapt attention as his hands came up to his neck before he started to untie his bow tie. Letting out a shaky breath, you watched as his nimble fingers moved. He 

started to unbutton his shirt once the tie was tossed to the side. It was a sin, what you were doing. But as the first button came undone, as you saw more of his chest, the less you thought of heaven and hell. No, your eyes stayed on him, flicking up to his face to see him watching you with hazy eyes.

Before popping the second button on his shirt, he stopped. His smile turned mischievous as he instead took a small step back from the bed before falling to his knees. The change in angle made you gasp as you moved to stare down your body to see Alastor staring at your bare sex. Instinctually, you tried to close your legs but strong hands grabbing your knees kept you bare to him. “Now, now, cher. I did want to taste you…” He trailed off as he used his grip on your knees to pull you to the edge of the bed, bringing your sex only inches away from his face. You let out a gasp at how close he was as he moved his eyes to meet yours. “I just know you’ll be the sweetest thing I’ll ever taste.” He cheekily winked at you before leaning closer, still smiling. 

Your head fell back against your blankets when you felt his breath against your bare skin. His hands slid from your knees up the front of your legs until he grasped your hips again. A whimper escaped you and he chuckled before pressing a tender kiss to the inside of your left thigh, your right thigh, then just above your wet slit. It felt like forever and an instant all at once as he slowly licked his way into your slit. His low groan seemed to reverberate against your skin; your back arched at the intense sensation. 

Alastor took no time licking further into you, lapping at the wetness that he caused. Immediately, you had no thoughts in your head besides a chant of his name. The only thing you could look at was the white ceiling as you made noises you didn’t think anyone was capable of making. His tongue moved against your lower regions, dipping in and out of you and his hands slid from your hips down to your thighs, gripping the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. The idea of him leaving marks on you, a physical reminder of the intense pleasure he was giving you… You moaned loudly again and he paused in his tongue motion to look up at you. 

“Eyes on me, cher.” He commanded and you obeyed without question, propping yourself up so you can watch him devour you. His grin widened before he moved back in. But instead of going directly back to your slit, he licked his way a little further up until it felt like live electricity was running through you. You desperately tried to keep your eyes on him, whispering his name at how ethereal he was making you feel. “Ah, there she is…” He focused all of his attention on the nerve, sucking it into his mouth and pressing his tongue against you. 

“AL!” You screamed his name, eyes clenched shut . He didn’t pull away, instead choosing to continue lavishing attention on the sensitive nerve ending. After a moment, he stopped sucking and instead just gave it the tiniest licks. It completely escaped your notice that one hand slid away from its resting place on your thigh and moved in between your legs. The lightest bit of pressure from his fingertip against the entrance to your body made you whimper his name again. “Al… Alastor, Alastor… please…” 

“Shhh, darling,” he cooed in between licks. “I have to prepare you. You don’t want me to hurt you, do you?” The questions made you shudder, arousal overwhelming you. A moan came from the back of your throat as his tongue pressed against your clitoris and the tip of his finger started to enter you. You clenched your muscles as Alastor continued to push his finger in and out of you while his tongue worked against the sensitive spot. It felt like time stopped as he slowly licked and fingered the place that was only meant for your future husband, but all you wanted was Alastor. Nothing but Alastor. Slowly, you felt a second finger join the first, stinging at first but slowly he worked you open. He started moving faster than before; the squelching sound obscenely loud besides your panting breath. “Al… Al…” It felt like the only thing you could say was his name. 

Slowly, he pulled his mouth away and you saw the way your slickness coated all around his mouth, shining obscenely in the daylight. If your mother wasn’t already dead, you’d send her straight to the grave with how you were acting. You whimpered as he gave you one of his charismatic grins and then pressed a sweet kiss on your thigh. “You’re doing so well, darling,” he praised you easily before curling his fingers against a certain spot inside you. Spots danced in front of your eyes at the intense feeling, your whole body tensing up at each touch. He hit again and again, making sure to keep his eyes locked on you as he gave you ecstasy. “Do you want another finger, sweetheart? Can I prepare you to take my cock?” The only response you could manage was a long whine of his name as his fingers found that spot again and pressed, holding there until it felt like you were about to lose your mind. He pressed a kiss to your lower stomach, just above where his fingers were working in and out of you, as a third finger joined the first two. 

The stretch hurt more than you thought - it’d been so good until now. You tried to pull away but Alastor’s other hand moved to your stomach and pinned you there as he moved in and out of you. “I…I…” You struggled to get the words out as he kept you in place with his hand and his eyes. 

“Does it hurt, mon cher?” Amusement tinged his voice. “Poor thing… what if I just…” His words trailed off as he pressed the spongy spot again, making your back arch. The pain faded as he continued to move his fingers inside you. “There she is… my pretty little thing… such a darling, taking me so well.” Hearing his praise made you roll your hips against his hand. “Oh? Does she want more?” 

You didn’t finish nodding before he slowly pulled his three fingers out of you. Your throat went dry when he licked his fingers to clean your wetness from his skin. “You really are delicious, cher.” He stood again to his full, towering height and you felt so bare and vulnerable as his eyes raked over every visible inch of your skin. “But to really savor you… I’m going to have to ruin you.” It sounded like a promise and you nodded in agreement, reaching for him. 

But, Alastor didn’t let you reach him before he started unbuttoning his shirt. His dexterous fingers moved quickly, button after button falling open and baring his skin to you. Scars marred his skin, light indentions against his darker skin, and you made yourself watch the man’s hands as they dropped to his trousers. “C…can I?” You finally managed to speak, biting at your bottom lip. “I… I want to… you know.” Raising a hand to your lips, you hoped he knew what you wanted without you having to say the scandalous words. His fingers never stopped moving as he took off his belt, carefully setting it off to the side, though leaving his shirt open and fluttering around his chest.

“No need, cher. I much rather have all of you.” He gave you a charming grin and wink as he slowed down but still started to unbutton his trousers. Your mouth went dry as he pushed the pants and underwear down to the floor, revealing himself to you as intimately as he was seeing you. Head swimming a little, you wondered how he’d… fit inside you. He looked much larger than three fingers and that was painful at first. “Don’t panic, darling. I’ll take good care of you,” he promised, drawing your eyes from his narrow hips up to his face. “Now be a good girl and move so you’re completely on the bed.” 

There was a pause before you complied, moving to lay across the bed properly as it felt like there were a thousand butterflies in your stomach. You glanced quickly at the vanity that showed you how flushed you were, how debauched you look. A chuckle drew your attention back to Alastor as he moved closer to you. His warmth radiated from his skin as he climbed onto the bed next to you before positioning himself almost on top of you. The silky skin of his cock brushed across your thigh as he moved, drawing a breathy noise out of the back of his throat, one of the few noises he’d let slip during the whole time. 

The two of you met eyes and you felt like you couldn’t look away; he must have cast a spell on you to make you feel like this, to make you want him this badly. Alastor leaned down to kiss you again, his teeth grazing your tender lip. Not wanting to be an inactive participant any longer, you wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. His tongue pressed against yours as you felt him adjust on the bed before you felt something brush against the bundle of nerves he’d found before. It took you a moment to realize that it was his… He greedily swallowed whatever mewling noise you made before prodding the tip against your entrance. “Relax for me, my love. It’ll hurt less.” 

Alastor distracted you with another tender kiss as he rolled his hips forward, using one hand to guide himself. His tip caught on the edge of your entrance before sliding in. The pain struck like lightning. “H…hurts…” you whimpered and he tensed for a moment before stopping moving. Closing your eyes tightly, you wanted to move away from him but his weight kept you on the bed. 

“I promise, cher, it gets better, just relax.” He shushed you, pecking you between each word he whispered against your lips. “I’ll make you feel so good… just…” His hips moved forward, pushing him further into you. Your body stretched around him, clenching against the intrusion. He hissed out your name as he stilled his hips again, moving the hand from his cock to hold onto your waist. 

The touch made you open your eyes again, taking in the wild expression of the man on top of you. Alastor’s eyes looked predatory as he gave you a smile with a shaky exhale. “Just a little more,” he promised before moving his hips more. You felt his hips press against yours and you never felt so full and whole, even with the pain of stretching around him. “You’re mine now, cher,” he promised in the stillness of your room. “I’ll never let you go now.” The possessiveness made you shiver and he hissed at the feeling. 

Another moment passed before he looked deep in your eyes, looking for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it as he started to move his hips back. The movement made you whine a little, the pain fading a little as he moved out. You could tell Alastor was starting to lose control because he wouldn’t stop talking - babbling, really, about everything he was feeling. “You’re so tight, so perfect for me…” Overwhelmed at the praise, you captured his lips in a kiss, desperate to find the pleasure he promised. 

As soon as it was just the tip of his member inside you, he started to push forward again, a little faster than before. The air seemed to be pushed from your lungs as the pain returned, though not as sharply as before. Alastor shifted his hips slightly to the left and the tip pressed against the spongy spot he’d previously found with his fingers. It felt like fireworks were going off in your head as pleasure shot through you. Was it possible to feel this good without him inside you? You doubted it and never wanted to try. Moaning, you moved your hips against his, wanting more. A choked laugh escaped him as you wiggled underneath him. “Shhh, cher, I’ll give you everything you want and more.” He promised, pressing his forehead against yours and exhaling as he pushed back into you sharply, hitting that spot and stretching your hole against the base of his cock. “Do you trust me?” You didn’t even need to think before nodding. His ever present smile turned a little sharper, a little more dangerous. It sent a thrill through you, knowing this man was all yours. 

Moving his hands, he intertwined his fingers with yours gently. He guided your hands above your head, all the while slowly fucking himself into you with a ferocity that should have sent you running but it was too late; he ruined you, just like he promised. “Keep your hands here,” he ordered before pulling his hands away. The backs of his hands trailed down your arms, along the sides of your breasts before pausing to squeeze them and flick at both nipples at the same time. He punctuated the movement with another hard thrust that was almost too deep, a touch of pain coming back but the pleasure never fully ebbed away. 

Your hands twitched as you tried to keep them where Alastor told you as his hands moved down from your breasts, tickling along the soft roundness of your stomach before clutching at your hips with bruising force. He nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing kisses to the soft, tender skin; you could only imagine the number of marks he was leaving on you. A tiny groan escaped you as he thrust his hips into you again, moving faster. Pressure was building inside you and you were only vaguely aware of what was happening to you. It never felt like this with the few innocent touches you’d ever given yourself. “Al… Al, please…” You didn’t know what you were pleading for; all you knew is that you wanted - needed more from the radio personality turned your lover.

“You want more?” Alastor spoke mostly into your neck before biting down a little harder than before. You cried out his name as he started to suck and lick at the tender spot. “I’ll give you everything I have and more, cher.” Your heart fluttered at the promise and you could almost imagine being married to him, having him take you like this every night. Whimpering, you arched your back and moved your hips against his as he moved faster and faster within you. He hit that magic spot within you with each thrust and you felt your everything tightening as you seemed to near a peak, closer and closer to tipping over from the sensations he was stirring inside you. 

Alastor squeezed tighter on your hips and hissed into your neck. “You’re so soft, so good for me, my darling. You squeeze me so well, making me want to give you a baby.” A gasp escaped you before you could stop it, quickly thinking of you being round with a child, his child, and him giving you as many babies as you wanted. “Is that what my girl wants?” 

You couldn’t stop yourself from whining what someone could only assume was a yes. He grunted and with a sharp thrust, it felt like a dam within you broke. Your whole body trembled at the overwhelming pleasure, fireworks shooting behind your eyelids. It only took a few more strokes of his hips before you felt Alastor collapse gently on top of you, face still buried in your neck. 

Several moments passed as you laid on your bed, drenched in sweat and trying to catch your breath under your lover. He pulled back and pressed a small kiss to your forehead, following one on your nose then lips, more chaste than any other you’d shared in the afternoon. You moved your arms down from where you’d been holding them to brush a hand over his sweaty hair, laughing lightly as you realized he’d never taken off his glasses, leaving them askew on his face. 

Slowly, Alastor pulled out of you and you blushed as he stared at where you’d been joined. You could feel his seed spilling out of you, making you blush as you tried to cover yourself. “It’s a little late for that, darling,” he cooed as he moved off the bed. With him standing in front of you, you took a moment to admire him as you sat up. “I hope it was… satisfactory for you?” The formality of the question made you laugh louder than perhaps you should before nodding. 

“You’re wonderful, Alastor,” you assured him as you slid to the edge of the bed. He offered you his hand and you took it, standing next to him, feeling the slick of his release beginning to slide down the inside of your thighs. “I’ll run us a cool bath. We should be able to cool down.” Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss to Alastor’s cheek before going to the bathroom to run the two of you a bath.

----

It hurt. When you realized that Alastor left while you were in the bathroom, daydreaming of a future that would never be. The news broke a few days later - Alastor, famed radio host and darling of New Orleans was the Bayou Butcher. Rumors said he died while cannibalizing his latest victim. You threw the paper away as quickly as you could, avoiding the radio entirely. That day… he could have killed you as easily as he fell into your bed. And then he vanished into the afterlife before you could even ask him why.

[sinsxo]

03. the price of silence.

navigation. profile. masterlist. part 1. part 2.

synopsis. not wanting anyone else to see you at your lowest again, you avoided that place, hoping that he kept his silence. who knew the price of silence could be paid off with just yoghurt gummies?

cw. emotional vulnerability, mild physical injury, playful banter, cussing.

wc. 1.5k words, not proofread.

“i don’t want anyone to know, making tomorrow more difficult.” —run, dosii.

spring break passed with you cooped up in your room, buried in textbooks and silence. you ate late, long after everyone else had gone to bed. not because you wanted peace, but because facing the table again felt unbearable.

you hadn’t gone back to the convenience store. not once. not after what happened. you told yourself it was because you didn’t need anything. but deep down, you were afraid. of being seen again like that, of someone else catching you mid-breakdown. not everyone would stay quiet the way he did.

at school, nothing had changed since the last school year. rin passed by you in the hallway as if both of you had never had that exchange, and you were thankful for it. no glances. no smirks. no words. seems like he hadn’t told anyone since you hadn’t heard anyone mention a single word about you crying at a convenience store.

and maybe that counted for something. because a week into the new term, you found itoshi rin at the same convenience store again. this time, you both were fighting over the last pack of yoghurt gummies.

“itoshi rin,” you said flatly, still holding the edge of the packaging.

he didn’t flinch. “i reached it first.”

“you sure about that?”

“positive. and besides—” his gaze flicked to you. “you owe me.”

you sighed, reluctantly letting go. “you looked like you needed it more anyway.”

he didn’t argue. just dropped it on the counter — right on top of your snacks.

“ring this up too,” he said casually.

you blinked. “you’re paying?”

“no,” he said, monotone. “you are.”

you stared at him.

“i said that you owe me,” he added.

“that’s not how it works. i already gave up the yoghurt gummies,” you grumbled, dragging out the words as you paid anyway. “you’re such an asshole.”

“but a silent one,” he said as you both left the store. “so technically, you earned something from it, no?”

“whatever,” you muttered, clearly annoyed. “we’re even now, right? no more debts or whatever.”

he shrugged, annoyingly nonchalant. “i guess.”

he turned the corner first, walking off without a second glance. and you watched him disappear into the distance before walking off in the other direction.

it was supposed to be over — a weird coincidence, paid off with a pack of gummies and silence. but the next day at school, rin nodded at you. he acknowledged you.

just once. barely perceptible. you hoped that you were overthinking it.

a subtle tilt of his head when you passed each other in the hallway. it was unnecessary and out of character. he was the one people bowed to, not the other way around.

and it stayed in your mind longer than you liked.

weird.

you didn’t realise how distracted you were until you found yourself walking the long way past the school’s field, which was not the fastest route to the library, and didn’t even notice the loud thunk of cleats against a ball.

you heard someone shout, “watch out!”

but it was too late.

the ball smacked into your shoulder with a solid thud, knocking your bag off and nearly making you stumble. the sting bloomed instantly, your breath hitching in annoyance more than pain.

“shit, sorry!”

a pair of voices — hurried and panicked — echoed across the field. a couple of second-years scrambled towards you, both still wearing their pinnies from practice.

you crouched to grab your bag, barely looking at them.

“are you okay?” one asked, his expression apologetic.

“what the hell does it look like?” you snapped, shooting them a glare sharp enough to cut. “do you kick balls at everyone who walks past?”

“no! we were aiming for each other, it was just— uh, wind?” one offered, shrinking back.

“don’t give me excuses,” you muttered, dusting off your uniform. “why do you play football if you can’t aim?”

they looked properly chastised, eyes wide, unsure whether to apologise again or back away.

you didn’t wait to find out. and when you turned to leave, you saw him.

itoshi rin was standing a few feet behind them, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with unreadable eyes. he wasn’t part of it — his hands were clean, his posture relaxed. he didn’t even pretend to look sorry.

your eyes met for a second.

he blinked.

and you scoffed and walked off.

typical.

you didn’t know what you expected. maybe for him to say something? perhaps for him to check on you, even briefly? no, you both didn’t have that kind of relationship.

and you weren’t someone people checked in on anyway.

your shoulder ached — a dull, annoying throb that flared every time you moved too suddenly. it wasn’t unbearable, just irritating enough to throw off your focus. and after two hours of trying to study through the throbbing pain, you finally gave up, stuffing your notes into your bag with a frustrated sigh.

you stepped out of the library into the cool evening air, passing by the field again on your way out of the school grounds. it was quieter now — the echo of shouting and whistles had long faded. the floodlights buzzed softly overhead, illuminating a mostly empty field.

the sky had already begun to darken, painted in muted shades of blue and orange, but there was still someone out there under the buzz of the floodlights.

itoshi rin. again.

he was alone, juggling the ball lazily, as if waiting for something. or someone.

he looked up the second you appeared — almost like he’d been watching for you — and without a word, he picked up his water bottle and duffel bag from the side. by the time you were halfway past the field, he was already walking towards you.

“what?” you asked warily, eyeing his packed-up gear. “…were you waiting?”

“yeah,” he replied flatly. “you took forever.”

“yeah? well, i was trying to salvage a study session. kind of hard with a sore shoulder, thanks to your idiot teammates. how the hell did they even manage to kick it over the fence?”

he raised a brow, unconcerned. “well, they did kick really hard for people who can’t aim to save their lives.”

you blinked. “and you’re not even gonna defend them?”

“why would i? like you said, they suck at aiming. terrible accuracy. who do you think scores the goals for this team?”

you snorted despite yourself. “wow. you’re awfully full of yourself.”

“it’s called being honest,” he said, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

you rolled your eyes and adjusted your bag on your shoulder with a wince.

“you should ice that,” he said quietly, falling into step beside you as you walked toward the school gates.

“it’ll heal on its own.”

he didn’t answer, just walked next to you in silence for a few moments, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

then, quietly, “you didn’t have to brush it off earlier. if it hurt, you could’ve had them take you to the infirmary.”

“well, too late,” you muttered. “i wasn’t going to cry again. especially in front of a crowd.”

you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, expecting some smart remark.

but all he said was, “you’re worse than the rumours.”

“the hell does that mean?”

he glanced at you. “i don’t think people know what to make of you. they say you’re cold, stuck-up. but really, you’re just…”

you raised a brow. “just what?”

“meaner. more stubborn. and too honest,” he said bluntly. “but you’re just… you. they seem to misunderstand you, huh?”

“…are you trying to insult me or flatter me?”

“it definitely wasn’t a compliment.”

“asshole.”

he didn’t argue. just kept walking beside you, steps steady, matching your pace without making it obvious.

you didn’t talk the rest of the way, but neither of you turned to leave, even when your roads were supposed to split. instead, he reached into his bag and pulled something out — the same packet of yoghurt gummies you’d almost argued over yesterday. unopened.

“here,” he said, holding it out to you without looking directly at you.

you blinked. “…huh? that’s yours.”

“you paid for it anyway,” he replied casually, a hint of amusement tugging at his tone. “so technically, it’s yours.”

your eye twitched. “seriously?”

he shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “take it. compensation for your shoulder.”

you stared at him, unsure whether to be irritated or just… confused. “…you waited two hours just to return snacks?”

“wasn’t planning on it,” he said. “just figured you’d be heading home around now.”

“what a stalker.”

“i’m not, you’re just predictable.”

you clicked your tongue and snatched the packet from his hand. “whatever.”

“you looked like you needed it more,” he added as he turned to walk off.

“…i don’t need your pity,” you muttered under your breath, recognising the familiar sentence.

“wasn’t pity,” he said without turning back. “just didn’t want to owe you.”

“liar.”

he didn’t deny it. just kept walking, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“thanks… again,” you mumbled once his back was turned — too quiet for him to hear, or maybe just loud enough.

and for the first time, you didn’t feel like strangers anymore.

taglist. @yuukiririix @rohfulike @bestboileeknow @mihyas-dieehefrau @lilahlil @bruisedchickensoup @vvs-mew @kuronarnze @mixolya @lovingmayday @saekisserfr @appl3-orchard @fiestvr @n0tbelle @scoosh4you @tartardisalmone @luvynii

back to. masterlist. proceed to. part 4.

© all written works are created and owned by @sinsxo. do not plagiarise, modify, repost or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances.

all images, aside from the dividers, do not belong to me. credit belongs to their original creators on pinterest & xhs.

[snnowwpheenix]

Tokyo Revengers men might react to finding out their s/o is pregnant

Mikey (Manjiro Sano)

At first, Mikey is completely silent. His eyes widen, and he just stares for a moment. You almost worry he didn’t hear you. Then, with an uncharacteristically soft voice:

“I’m gonna be… a dad?” He pulls you into his arms and holds you like you’re the most fragile thing in the world. There’s a hint of fear in his eyes—he’s lost so many people already, and the thought of having something so precious scares him. But then he smiles, genuine and glowing. “This time, I’m not losing anyone. Not you, not our baby.”

Draken (Ken Ryuguji)

Draken pauses mid-sentence when you tell him. He sets down his tools (probably working on a bike), walks over, and cups your face gently.

“You serious?” When you nod, he pulls you into a deep hug, his forehead resting on yours. “I’ll do everything to protect you both. I promise.” Draken is calm but overwhelmed inside. He starts planning immediately—crib, diapers, safety locks—everything. Total dad mode unlocked.

Takemichi Hanagaki

Takemichi panics.

“W-Wait, you’re pregnant?! Like—now?! Already?!” He paces the room, nearly trips, stutters, and his voice cracks. But then it sinks in. He looks at you with teary eyes. “I’m going to be a father?” Then, he just breaks down crying—happy tears. “I’ll be better. I’ll do it right. I’ll protect this family.”

Chifuyu Matsuno

Chifuyu grins like a golden retriever.

“No way! Seriously?! That’s awesome!!” He’s instantly full of plans. Baby names? He’s got lists. Clothes? He’s online shopping. He makes a playlist of songs for the baby. “I’ve never had a family like that. But we’ll give them one. A real one.”

Baji Keisuke

Baji spits out his drink.

“HUH?!” He’s shocked for all of two minutes before recovering and pulling you into a kiss. “Damn… I’m gonna be a dad, huh?” He rubs your stomach awkwardly at first, then more confidently. “They’re gonna be badass. Just like their mom.” And just like that, he’s in—100%, no fear, no hesitation.

Mitsuya Takashi

Mitsuya already had dad energy, but this news melts him. He smiles gently and pulls you close.

“This is the best news I’ve ever heard.” He’s practical, making you prenatal clothes, checking vitamins, researching parenting books. “Let’s do this together, okay? We’re a team.” He’s calm, dependable, and absolutely glowing with pride.

Hakkai Shiba

Hakkai is shocked, eyes wide, nearly choking on air.

“Y-You’re pregnant…? Like, with my kid?!” He stumbles over words but blushes furiously. Once it sinks in, he starts crying quietly, overwhelmed by emotion. “I never thought I’d have this. Thank you… for choosing me.” From that moment on, he’s protective, doting, and would drop anything for you and the baby.

Taiju Shiba

At first, Taiju goes dead silent. You can’t read his expression.

“You’re sure?” When you confirm it, his jaw clenches—but not in anger. In emotion. He walks over, slowly kneels, and rests his forehead on your stomach. “I don’t deserve this… but I’ll protect you both with everything I have.” He softens only for you and the child. Any hint of his past violence fades—he becomes a silent, watchful guardian.

Hanma Shuji

Hanma laughs. Not mockingly—genuine disbelief.

“I knocked you up? Well damn.” He leans back, looking up like it’s a joke, but then stares at your belly for a long time. “Guess I’ve got a reason not to die now, huh?” He doesn’t know how to be a dad. But he tries in his own chaotic way. Protective, surprisingly attentive, and now talks to your bump like it’s already an accomplice.

Kisaki Tetta

Kisaki freezes. He’s silent for longer than you’d like, calculating everything. But then, something shifts.

“This changes everything.” He cups your cheek gently. “You and our child will be the start of my legacy. I’ll make the world safer—for them.” It’s both sweet and terrifying. He becomes even more driven. But with you and the baby, he shows a gentleness he hides from the world.

[lizardho]

When I came out, I was SO scared I was gonna get disowned. I wrote a letter to my parents, sent it to their emails, put a physical copy on the counter, and left the house for a few hours to give them time. In that time I tried coffee for the first time, which was a dreadful idea, and got all jittery. I kept waiting for a text or something but nothing happened.

After a few hours, I didn’t hear back from them so I went home. My parents were home and had stacked a bunch of groceries on top of the letter without opening it. They said “hi” and I said “hi” and went down stairs to the basement. I held my dog and panicked about what to do. My sister, who knew that I had written them a letter of great importance, told me they hadn’t read it yet. She also told me she could ask them to do so. I consented to this and stayed in the basement. A few minutes later my dad knocked on the door and poked his soft smooth little nerd head in and said “hey buddy” and I started crying so hard I almost vomited. He came over and gave me a BIG hug and said that it was gonna be OK, he was OK with this, he knew it must have been hard but he was here for me. He told me he and my mom had already talked years before they had me about how if they had to pick between their faith and their child they’d pick their child. It was a very sweet moment. I came out to my mom later that evening and we were both bawling the whole time.

The day after I came out to my parents, I came out to my brother @inbabylontheywept at a Mexican restaurant and he took it like a champ. That evening my mom took me for a walk and looked almost angry - she said she wanted to make sure that I didn’t use being a woman as an excuse to not go to grad school. I told her I wouldn’t and she instantly looked relieved and happier.

My dad, on the other hand, seemed to struggle with it. He kept asking me if I had a boyfriend, and I told him I did not. He kept asking me if I wanted to go clothes shopping with him and I did not. He kept asking me if I would let him go to some of my shows, and I had NO idea what he was talking about.

Finally, 6 months after coming out, of awkward misgendering and questions that didn’t make sense from my dad, he excitedly pokes his soft smooth little nerd head into my bedroom again and says “I found a movie about Your People.” My people. I was absolutely bewildered, but he was so excited and I knew he had been trying SO hard so I watched it with him. It was The Birdcage, and it was amazing. It also was revelatory in that I finally realized why my initially-supportive father seemed to be having such a hard time with my pronouns and stuff - he didn’t know what the difference between trans and doing drag was. After the movie he again asked if I would invite him to one of my shows, and I said, “Hey dad, you know how about half the world is women?” And he said “yeah,” and I said “Well, see, I’m on that half now. I’m not doing drag.” And it was like a switch flipped in his brain. He was like “omg that’s so easy? I was so confused about what to call you when?”

Anyway, my parents are charming and my family has been so kind and patient with me, I like sharing the stories of my little wins with them.

[ode2rin]

new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)

You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior. 

And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.

Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.

Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.

Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself. 

He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.

The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any. 

There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.

“Are we… alright?” he drawled.

What the fuck. He did not just sound like that. 

He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.

Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.

“Okay, Rin.”

That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.

“Are you mad at me?” 

“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?

“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.

You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)

“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”

“You so are!” 

“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”

There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.

“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”

“Not to you, it’s not!”

A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting. 

Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”

“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.

With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.” 

“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.

“I’m not childish.”

“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”

Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.

“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind. 

“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.

The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit. 

They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.

He was now something more, something special.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.

It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for. 

Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you. 

It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim. 

You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.

Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”

“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.

note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.

[magicdustsworld]

Zayne has standards.

He really does.

And those standards include not thirsting after his very beautiful wife every time she has the audacity to exist in a damn sundress.

But here he is.

You are sprawled out on the couch, using a cushion as a recliner while you scroll through your phone with a practiced ease that should have been illegal. You are wearing that sundress again—the same one he bought you and the same one that made him lose his mind the first time you walked out of your bedroom wearing that. The soft yellow clings to your bust and torso, before flaring from the waist down. A slit runs down from your knee to the hem—giving him a tantalizing view of your legs as you cross them over one another. The neckline dips low; although keeping your modesty concealed, the sweetheart shape leaves no stone unturned—promising the allure behind the veil.

There you are resting on the sofa like some celestial being descended from heaven; taking away his breath and self control—fighting and failing hard to resist the temptation.

And the worst part of it all? You aren't even trying to seduce him.

You are just there.

Radiant.

Effortless.

Dangerous.

As ever.

Zayne leans on the doorway, arms folded over hios chest and jaw set in a thin line as if that would the heat from crawling up his neck.

As if sensing his gaze, you speak without making the effort to look up, "Anything wrong?"

"It's too cold for you to be wearing something like... that.

"Huh?" Finally, you grace him the look he was so desperately begging for. (Not that you'll ever know about it). You make some clicks on your phone before turning the device towards him, "See! It's 70 degrees. It's warm enough."

In response, your husband just glares at the screen like it has personally offended him. It has. Then, he mumbles something incoherent under his breath; along the lines of 'You have a knack for getting knocked out cold' and 'How much it'd help him you if you only sprout some wisdom and put on a cardigan.'

He rotates on his heels, strolling towards the kitchen—at this point only some chilled water would help him—and hoping you haven't caught onto his monologue. But you did. You always do and when you finally register his words in your mind, a slow grin curls down your lips.

So that is it, huh?

No sooner has Zayne reached the refrigerator, he feels the warmth of your figure behind him. He fixes you with a questioning gaze, one of his eyebrows raising, as he fishes out a bottle of water from it.

Leaning against the counter, your perpetual smirk depends and that's the cue for your husband to know that you are upto no good.

"You okay, darling?" You ask, voice low and turning towards a teasing edge. Stepping closer, you place your hand on his forearm—the muscles tensing almost instantly under your touch. Perfect. "You look a little... warm."

Zayne clears his throat, "I am fine."

"Mhm, hmm, you sure?" you ask, leaning in—absolutely revelling on the effect you are having on him.

"Of course," he swallows, stepping back but you only step closer; not letting him or anyone shorten the proximity. You wouldn’t even let it happen, no matter what occurs. "Why would you even think otherwise?"

"Heh!" You snort, amusement floating in the sound. "Because what if I say you keep looking at me like I am dessert and you are starving?"

"Then I'll say you're delusional."

"Oh?" This time, you raise an eyebrow. Then, wedging your voice to a tone lower—transcending it to something sultry and wicked. "Then you wouldn’t be affected if I kiss you right now?"

His shoulder jerks back, eyes widening as a warmth spreads all over his cheek and burns down to his neck. "You wouldn’t dare—"

But you do.

You kiss him.

Standing on your tip-toes, your eyelids flutter shut as your soft lips pressed against his chapped one. The slow motion of the movement gave him all the time in the world to memorize each nook and cranny of your expression before you engulfed him into a sincere affection. Sacred in the act. Reverent in its nature.

After being happily married to the calm and composed Dr. Zayne—one of the best surgeons in the Akso hospital and the youngest winner of the starcather award—for two years; you'd wonder surprise kisses like this would be considered a routine now. And although they are, Zayne's reaction to them every time hasn't had a single itch of change. You still remember how he had reacted when you had kissed him unexpectedly for the first time. It had been under a snow cuddled christmas tree in the heart of Linkon city and as cliche as it was, it was the fruit of your hard earned resolve after yearning for him for literal years.

Even that time, his hands and feet had fallen victim to paralysis as well. Heart beating in his chest at a rapid rate and he stood there like a statue, barely moving his lips against yours—just like now. Only when did you begin to pull away, did he finally take the lead.

His hand wraps around your waist, pulling you close whilst the other cradles your jaw. Angling your face to the side, he parts his lips—pressing them on yours with a fervent hunger. His tongue prods over your lips and you open your mouth, welcoming him into the salacious exchange. The fabric of his shirt, bunches inside your fist prompting you to pull him closer. He relents, lips meeting with yours with sheer desire and affection. Despite the carnal nature of his mouth on yours, you couldn't deny the wafting purity in the air. The way Zayne handled you with so much affection and zeal—never rushing you, matching his tempo to yours because it isn't just him indulging in this wanton connection. There's you and Zayne is nothing but vigilant when it comes to you; as if you are a fragile thing and any stitch of recklessness would shatter you. Something he'd never let happen as long as he lives.

When he let's you go, both of you are breathless. Inhaling the mingling air in abrupt, short pants; a flush spread over your skin.

Then, "Still fine?" You whisper, gripping the fabric of his shirt tighter. The smug smile back with full force.

Zayne, still dazed and doomed, "You are... evil."

But even as he says that, his hold on your waist tightens just ever so slightly. Because, even if the end of the story concludes you as evil, he'll be gratified to know that you're his evil.

P.S. if y'all are wondering why does every Lnds drabble of mine consist husband!LI then it's because I'd husband them up in a breath if they were real ;-; jdhdjhdjhs hope you liked it

Zayne is my main btw <3 do tell me yours!

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.6k

summary: gojo sees you in lingerie for the first time. 

contains: f!reader, suggestive almost nsfw (they make out… maybe a bit steamy), 18+ just in case, reader is in lingerie, shy feelings!! gojo down bad!!

a/n: i hc that the first time gojo sees you in lingerie, it’s like seeing you walk down the aisle—he’s a bit sappy like that! i also think that he’d love seeing his lover in pink! idk! it’s just the vibes! (col reader would look cute in pink too i think hehe complements the personality!); takes place later on, around col #4 (wip)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 3.5b. —will i ever bring you peace? <- you are here -> +04b (extra). if you're ready (let me) + 04. these traces of love, they outline you

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

There are few things in life that have earned Gojo’s double take: 

A sign for a newly-opened gelato shop with ‘exclusive flavors for the first 30 customers!’ written in fine print; Megumi, back in middle school, being confessed to with a sweetly handcrafted box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day; a small cut, right at the tip of his nose from that time you sparred with him and he let you get too close (or so he says). 

And now you. 

In something pink—

—that if he backtracks just a bit, steps one foot behind the other to glance again at the space left open by the bedroom door, and squints—

He’s certain, 200% sure. 

It’s lingerie. 

He blinks once, twice, rubs at his eyes even as his mind attempts to catch up to whatever it is–you–he just saw. This must be what wires feel when they short circuit. 

You know he’s home, right? You have to, you just told him to rinse the dishes after snacking.

And he was in the middle of doing that—walking across your apartment from couch to kitchen, stopping only to do a double take at the sight of pink in his periphery, at you, once he looked again, clearly. 

Or were you doing this on purpose? Did you want him to see you? 

He gulps, warmth spreading from the tips of his ears down to his neck, lingering. 

There’s only one way to find out, really. 

He walks down the hallway leading to the bedroom, keeping his footsteps light so as to not startle you.

If he’s being honest right now, his mind is full to the point of feeling empty—too many thoughts swirling around the fact that behind this very door, he’s about to find you in pink lingerie. 

And when he takes a deep breath, fingertips pushing on wood very slightly as he calls out, “Bab—“

“S’toru!” you squeal from the other side, panicked as you instantly push it back closed.

So you didn’t do it on purpose. 

“Sorry, give me a minute!” you call out, and he can hear your footsteps from the other side, frantically walking around for what he can assume is you looking for something to cover yourself with. 

But he doesn’t want that. 

Not when he already has the visual of you, pretty in what he suspects is pink lace.

Not when the way you said ‘S’toru’ sounded so much like ‘‘Toru’, your ‘‘Toru’, the way you usually say it pressed against bed sheets, under him, expression blissed out from—

Do you have any idea what that does to him? 

“Are you wearing lingerie?” 

You freeze. Gojo can tell from the other side of the door, and you think, damn it, because he isn’t supposed to know you bought a set, much less see you in it. Not yet. 

You could try to lie, but Gojo always sees through you, through every change in inflection, the way your eyebrow twitches before speaking. 

“Can I come in?” he asks softly, almost hesitantly. 

How can you possibly resist him when he speaks to you like this? Asking permission as if this space you live in isn’t as much his?

You sigh, flustered at being caught this way, “Can you close your eyes first?” 

He follows, laying one hand over his eyes for good measure before knocking on the door. You open it slowly, wood creaking as he steps inside. 

You feel a little naked right now despite how he isn’t even looking your way, opting to face the side opposite from where you’re standing. It’s on purpose, you know, he can tell where you are—Six Eyes and all. 

There’s a smile that he’s hiding, biting his lower lip to stop it from showing. His toes are wiggling from the excitement coursing through him.

You know Gojo will like you in anything; in fact, he’s made it very clear that he prefers you in nothing—but still. Your stomach feels queasy and you can’t get rid of how nervous you’re feeling. 

And you guess, it’s really just because this was meant to be a surprise for him—the design you’ve chosen, how it looks on your body, how it looks to him, especially. You’d ordered the lingerie set months in advance to leave a lot of time for returns, whether it turned out ill-fitting or just unflattering.

You didn’t expect him to catch a glimpse of it now, months before his birthday, before you were even ready. 

“I’m waiting…” he teases, voice sing-song in that way he usually does to annoy you. It always makes you smile though, and it’s an odd form of comforting with how it dulls your jitters right now, just a little bit.

“Okay, you can look.” 

As soon as he turns, you squeeze your eyes shut, hands on your sides as you fiddle with your fingernails. Seeing, knowing his reaction in real time is still nervewracking, regardless of every reassurance you tell yourself—because, what if this is the off-chance that you’re wrong, and he doesn’t like it? 

Or worse: what if he has to pretend he likes it?

You frown a bit—it doesn’t help at all that Gojo isn’t saying anything.

But—

How can he, when there are no words, no adjectives, no possible descriptions to articulate what he’s seeing—what he’s feeling?

If he didn’t die then, in every instance he’s brushed with death: by Toji’s hands, locked up inside that box, in that final moment with Sukuna, nearly halved—

He thinks he might have just died right now. 

Because this? You? In lingerie as pink as all he’s feeling—his cheeks, his nose, flushing down his neck, maybe even his chest if it were exposed. 

It’s heaven. 

You’re a sight. 

While Gojo has certainly seen you in much less, and done with you things much more than just stand with you like this, he’s never seen you in lingerie.

And you’re so pretty. Sexy. All his, he can’t believe it.   

He’s noticing all the little details on it–on you–its shade, almost salmon with a bit of baby pink; its material: sheer net as the base for everything—it’s practically see-through save for the delicate floral lace running across the bra cups and panty front.

The set itself is nice, sure, but he knows he only likes it this much because it’s on you. And he knows he’ll always like anything on you. 

The heat in his stomach is building, spreading, to the single part of him that—

“Is it that bad?” you scrunch your nose, eyes still closed. He looks at you confused, before he realizes: he hasn’t said anything.

He chuckles and you open your eyes, pouting. 

And God, he wishes you didn’t do that. That look on your face—what it does to him.

“I ordered it in advance for your birthday,” you start, pout deepening as you ramble on, “it was supposed to be a surprise, but if you don’t like it, I can still–” 

That’s enough. 

He can’t believe that you actually think he doesn’t like it. 

Gojo steps into your space, close enough to grab you by the waist as his other hand reaches up to slot itself in the area between your ear and your jawline, tilting your head up slightly as he leans in to kiss you. 

It’s rushed at first, almost desperate—hungry, the way he releases his breath only to take you in; your lips, soft in the way he knows them to be, his hand on your waist squeezing. Your fingertips trail to his cheek, almost cupping as his kisses turn deeper, more languid, lips moving against yours slowly, savoring. 

Gojo is a fast learner, and he shows it best in the way he kisses you, as if he’s memorized every way to build that familiar heat within you. You lay your other hand against his chest, gripping at the fabric of his t-shirt as he pulls you closer. 

You bite his lip and suck, just a little bit, the way he likes it, and he moans, lowly, vibrations rippling through your mouth as he holds you steady. He’s hard already; you can feel it pressing against your lower belly. 

And you realize, as a small laugh tears itself away from you, how ridiculous it was for you to even worry. 

You break the kiss, leaning your forehead against his as you keep your noses touching. It’s impossible to tell how Gojo looks, but you have a hunch with how he’s breathing so heavily; the skies in his eyes must be darker, almost gray, turned on by desire—the same one settling deep in your stomach, aching, needy. 

“It’s perfect,” he whispers, lips grazing yours. He traces hearts by your shoulder, something born out of the many times you’ve lain in bed together, playing with the strap of your bra before pulling, a short snap! as he lets go. 

“You like it?” you whisper back, a lilt in your tone, teasing. Your fingers come up to trace his lips and he holds them in place, nipping. 

“Mhm,” he grins, smoothing his hand over the lace details on your bra, his thumb rubbing, “so pretty.” 

He leans in again, a small peck, before asking, “Does this mean I can get my gift now?” 

You laugh, hitting his chest, “It’s not your birthday yet!” 

“Yeah, but what is time anyway?” 

And you know, with the way he’s trailing kisses down your neck, licking and sucking—you’re going to have to find another thing to surprise him with on his birthday. 

.

Later that evening, with your head lying right on his chest, you remember. 

“Oh yeah, the set also came with one of those belt things. Garter, I think? But I wasn’t sure if you’d be into–” 

You’ve never seen Gojo get up from bed faster.

thank you notes: for that anon that asked about whether col reader wears lingerie! + @stellamancer @soumies @crysugu for validating me that pink is in fact col reader's colour ᰔ i also just luv u guys 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[peachylynnie]

gift exchange

word count: 2.4k

synopsis: in which you get sick on christmas, and sylus is there to make it better.

contains: sylus x mc!reader (not dating but sylus is down bad), christmas themes, a singular reference to his myth, a singular reference to grassland romance, mentions and consumption of food, suggestive themes, cursing, angst, and fluff.

a/n: i got sick. again. on christmas too. you know what that means. sylus time! on a related note, i hope everyone had a wonderful christmas. my rafayel fic is gonna upload soon as well. enjoy! reblogs and comments always welcome! do NOT copy or translate my work. sylus does NOT endorse plagiarism.

you curse as you rip open a hot chocolate packet. "sick on christmas," you grumble as you pour the contents into a mug. "how the fuck is that even possible."

of course, anyone can get sick at any time. it's inevitable. but, seriously? of all the days the pain in your throat and ears could have appeared, it just HAD to be on fucking christmas day. sure, it's not like you had any plans. normally you would celebrate with grandma and caleb by feasting on countless dishes and singing christmas songs from an old karaoke machine caleb swears isn't broken. but they're not around anymore.

you sigh miserably as you trudge over to the water dispenser for hot water, not wanting to think about your lost family. as you press the button for hot water, you lean against the dispenser, trying to figure out what you're going to do for the rest of the day. you were planning on visiting the market to make a nice dinner or perhaps order takeout at your favorite restaurant. but those are no longer viable options since your throat is killing you and your ears are incessantly burning. maybe you can order delivery? but that means you're going to have to clean up afterward, and you did NOT want to clean anything at the moment, especially with the state you're in.

shaking your head, you bring your mug back to the kitchen counter and search for a spoon.

"water for hot chocolate? i'm disappointed, sweetie."

you jump, an "oh, fuck!" leaving your mouth. sylus had materialized in front of you, a plastic bag in his left hand and a present box in his right. not like you noticed though. you were too startled by his sudden appearance. "what the fuck, sylus?! can't you knock?!"

"no," he deadpans, placing the bag and box on the kitchen counter. his fingers make quick work of untying the double knot on the bag. "besides," he spares you a glance. "i don't think someone who uses water to make their hot chocolate deserves a knock."

you roll your eyes. of course he fixates on that and doesn't explain why he's in your crappy apartment slandering you instead of downing at LEAST three glasses of wine in his luxurious penthouse on christmas day too. "well, screw me for being lazy, i guess," you mumble, crossing your arms.

"don't tempt me."

"huh?"

"what?"

you shoot him a look before grabbing your mug and heading to the other side of the kitchen counter. sitting on your squeaky high chair, you ask, "why are you here, sylus?"

he takes out a styrofoam container and opens its lid. immediately, the comforting smell of miso greets you. as sylus opens a cabinet to retrieve a pot (you don't question how he knows where to find it), you try to look at what else is in the plastic bag. tilting your upper body, you notice another container and hope it has some rice inside. what you don't notice is sylus' breath hitching when he turns back to you after pouring the miso soup into the pot and turning on the stove.

you were wearing a nice, loose top in your favorite color. except, its neck portion was completely cut off, leaving your collarbone and shoulders deliciously exposed. and because you were leaning on your side to take a look at what he had brought you (he loves when you're curious about anything involving him), the sleeve was slowly yet surely sliding down your arm, threatening to show a cup of your bra.

sylus instantly turns back to the stove, even though the miso soup shows no signs of boiling. rubbing a hand over his face, he shakes his head. no, he's not here to ogle at you (the top looks really good on you, and fuck, did your bra cup your breasts really nicely). he's here to take care of you. earlier, mephisto alerted him you were taking some cough drops. and knowing you, you probably didn't have any food on hand to sustain you through your sickness, given his last (secret) visit to your apartment to stock your (empty) fridge. taking a deep breath, sylus returns to the kitchen counter, reaching for the other container. he notices your inquisitive eyes.

"i'm here because it's christmas." he opens the container, and to your delight, it's omurice. marveling at how fluffy the omelette looks and how savory the fried rice appears, you almost miss his answer.

"huh?" you frown. "you're here because it's christmas?"

"is that not what i just said?" sylus jests as he plates the omurice and places it in your microwave.

"well," you start carefully. "shouldn't you have better things to do? like take luke and kieran shopping or pop open another bottle of wine because woo! christmas!"

the silver-haired man shakes his head with a chuckle, propping his hands on the kitchen counter. you try not to focus on his exposed forearms too much. forget the omurice and miso soup; you'll take his arms instead.

"first of all, luke and kieran are busy—"

"on christmas?!"

"yes, sweetie, on christmas." he raises a brow at you for interrupting. you drag your sleeve back up sheepishly.

"second of all, what makes you think i haven't already indulged in a bottle of wine today?" he tilts his head and crosses his arms, gazing at you with a hint of amusement in his ruby eyes.

you pout and look away. "fair point, i guess."

enjoying your cute reaction, sylus returns his attention to the stove. pleased to find the miso soup boiling, he turns off the stove and takes out a bowl from your cabinet (again, how does he know where to find that?). using a ladle to pour into the bowl, he hums a little tune. you try not to snicker at how terrible he sounds. after sliding a bowl of soup and a plate of omurice to you, sylus plants his elbows on the counter and rests his chin on a palm, allowing him a perfect view of his beloved (though you don't know you're his beloved yet; luke and kieran called him a loser before getting their asses handed to them).

"uh," you look at sylus, then at the food, and then sylus again. "you're not going to eat?"

he shakes his head. "i already ate before coming here."

hesitantly, you pick up your utensils. "you know you technically haven't answered my question, right?"

"i'll tell you once you finish." sylus responds immediately. it's almost as if he knew what you were going to say.

no longer wanting to torture your stomach, you cut into the omurice and take a bite. "mmm!" you cover your mouth as you chew. the softness of the egg, the savoriness of the fried rice—oh, you're in heaven. "this tastes really good, sylus!" you take a sip of the miso soup as well. not only does the warm broth soothe your throat, but the spice that comes with it clears up your sinuses, ceasing the burn in your ears.

the man in front of you can't help but smile at the sight. you, in your most vulnerable, beautiful state, enjoying his cooking. he could die a happy man here. and it wouldn't be the first time his cause of death is you. not that he minds or anything.

"thank you, sylus." you take a few more bites before swallowing. "seriously, i needed this."

"i know, sweetie," he says gently. "i know."

you glare at him, but not with as much malice as you used to. "did mephisto snitch on me or something?"

sylus lets out a laugh before grabbing the present box and joining you on the other side of the counter. "he simply saw a poor little hunter in need of some saving."

"since when does being sick mean needing saving?" you mutter as you set your utensils down, having finished the meal. you make a mental note to ask where he got the food. you're definitely going to visit wherever this exquisite meal came from (the man sitting next to you would die if he knew you wanted to visit his place).

sylus hands you the present box, causing your eyes to widen as you finally process its existence. "merry christmas, sweetie."

instead of accepting it, you jump out of your seat and dash to your room, though not without yelling a "wait here!" your heart beats rapidly as you open your closet door, your eyes landing on a small box wrapped in glossy black paper. yes, you were planning on spending christmas alone. yes, you were planning on giving this to sylus as nonchalantly as possible AFTER christmas (as much as he infuriates you, you still wanted to gift him something. why? you're not sure). and yet, here you are, holding the gift to your chest as you sprint back to the kitchen. "here," you pant as you thrust your gift into his lap. "merry christmas, sylus."

now it's his turn to be surprised. peering at what you just put in his lap, sylus can't help but blush profusely. you gifted him something. you actually gifted him something. you went out of your way to buy something for him. you thought of him. sylus brings a hand to his mouth, his fingers gripping the sides of his face hard. oh, you're too much. it's taking him everything to not crash himself into you and hold you tightly with his arms, to press himself so deeply into you until there is no chance in heaven or hell you could be separated from him.

"sylus?" you snap him out of his thoughts. "you okay?"

he blinks. "ah." releasing his face from his grip, sylus looks at you with a composed smile. "i'm alright, sweetie. thank you for the gift," he says as he starts unwrapping.

"it's not much," you say shyly. "thank you for your gift too. i'll open it after you finish opening yours."

sylus nods as he opens the box. his lips part when he finds what lies inside. a pair of black gloves, thermal lined with genuine fleece and adorned with adjustable straps. but most importantly, embroidery by your hands. he could recognize your handiwork anywhere thanks to your previous adventure in the grasslands. the white dove delicately sewn into the wrist of the right glove and the initials of his name intricately engraved into the wrist of the left. the man can't help but smile for the umpteenth time tonight. you really were something else.

"i noticed you wear fingerless gloves whenever you ride your motorcycle," you start as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt. "as stylish as they are, mr. sylus," you tease. "i think it's better to have gloves that keep you warm during late-night joyrides, especially now since it's winter." finding the courage to grin at him, you conclude your explanation with, "merry christmas, sylus."

sylus swears he sees an angel sitting next to him. how could you not be an angel? with the way you're smiling at him right now? and the amount of thought you put into this gift? (he's trying not to obsess over the fact that you observe him whenever he rides his motorcycle.) the head of onychinus has never believed in angels. but now, he does. thanks to you.

"thank you, sweetie," he tries to say as calmly as possible. "i will cherish them." when he attempts to put the gloves on, you stop him.

"wait, you don't need to put them on yet! you're going to get hot."

"it's fine," sylus assures as he secures the straps. "i want to."

"okay," you flush, happy that he likes the gift. "let me open yours now."

you wonder why his box is so heavy as your fingers rip off the tape. a gasp escapes your mouth as the wrapping paper falls to the ground. "sylus," you tremble. "i can't accept this."

a record player. a sleek, gorgeous record player with an obsidian platter, supported by a mahogany base and a crystal case. you stroke the tonearm, dragging your index finger all the way to the headshell and relishing in the cool feeling the metal provides. "sylus…" you trail off.

"there's more, sweetie." he murmurs. out of thin air, sylus materializes several vinyls with his evol. your eyes widen, recognizing the images that lie at the center of each disc.

"oh my god, sylus!" your favorite band, he got you vinyl records of each album from your favorite band. they've never even had vinyl records before. holy fucking shit. "sylus!" you chant excitedly, leaping into him as you wrap your arms around his neck. "sylus! you shouldn't have! oh my god!"

you jump up and down eagerly, leaving the man stunned in his chair. his arms are outstretched, unsure what to do for the first time ever. you freeze, realizing the position you are in. "oh uh," you quickly retract from him, a red hue forming on your cheeks. "sorry about that." you go to sit back down in your chair, but sylus doesn't let you. he pulls you back to him with an arm around your waist and a hand at the back of your head. standing at full height, the head of onychinus hugs you tightly, so tightly it's as if he never wants to let you go. you hesitate before returning the hug, questioning the man's motives. but he doesn't say or do anything. just stands embracing you. realizing he bears no ill will, you pat his back playfully. "you know i'm sick, right?"

his grip doesn't loosen. "yes, i know."

"you're going to get sick, sylus," you tease, trying to pull away. as much as you appreciate his warmth, the last thing you want is for him to get sick. just the thought of it strikes fear in your heart. you're not sure why. "come on, let go."

sylus sighs before untangling his arms and sitting back down. he'll give in for now. besides, he wouldn't trade that elated look on your face when he revealed the records for anything in the world. he supposes he can enjoy such a view some more.

you giggle excitedly as you examine the vinyl records. "oh, should i play this one first? oh, what about this one? no way! you got this one too?!"

as always, you don't catch the woozy, lovesick smile that appears on sylus' face as he folds his arms and leans back to admire you. if this is what christmas with you is going to look like in the future, sylus desperately hopes you'll spend every christmas with him from now on. but, just to be sure, because nothing is guaranteed in the future, he follows your example and says for the second time of the night, "merry christmas, sweetie."

[sturnwh0re]

— blurb of chris giving an attitude adjustment —

chris’ hips rutted harshly into yours that was for sure to leave a mark if kept up, and it dared to knock your knees down that were the only support your ass had to keep it up. Chris’ right hand was planted right above ur ass as he had you right where he wanted, doggy.

“so much for that attitude you were having huh? Now ya getting dumb fucked stupid kid.”

you were letting out incoherent babbles and whimpers as your hands gripped to his sheets for more support. You were already upcoming your 3rd orgasm of the night, and chris wasnt planning on stopping until that attitude was wiped from you.

“C-chris— pl.. fuck.. please..”

You didn’t even know what you were begging for, for him to keep jamming his tip into that gummy spot that made your body twitch, or for him to stop. Fuck, you knew you didn’t want it to stop. Your legs that were holding your hips up were becoming unstable from the relentless abuse on your cervix, creating a domino effect now affecting your legs.

Your knees had been dug into the bed god forbid it would leave a mark. Your throbbing knees started to slide down making chris’ cock slip from your swollen pussy. He instantly groaned and put your knees back up.

“Nope, don’t do that. We still gotta fix that ‘tude.”

He wasn’t careless, so instead he put his hands on either sides of your hips holding them up for him. Once he had you steady again he pushed between your folds again. You moaned as he perfectly filled your empty hole once more. He had paused thrusting for a second; which made you groan impatiently. You pushed your hips back for some sort of friction.

“Please.. just please don’t stop..! I’m—“

Your words instantly got cut off by chris switching angles, and as soon as his length dipped into your tight pussy he hit that soft spot of nerves. Once his tip kissed it, your back arched again; which made you let out the loudest noise you’ve made all night. You looked behind you to see chris smirking with amusement.

“That’s the spot pretty bird, that’s the damn spot.”

His hips slammed hard into those nerves over and over again, each time it filled you with this euphoric feeling. You felt that same knot start to build in your lower abdomen, the same one you felt earlier from your previous orgasms. You started to pant and your vision was replaced with blurry imaginary stars, before chris’ repeated thrusts cleared all thoughts from your brain.

“Oh— oh fu-fuck.. chris- chris im so close!”

You started to meet his hips in the middle you both were heavily breathing and sexual noises filled the room. The skin to skin, the wet noises, and just chris and his noises started to all infiltrate your mind; slowly getting you closer and closer. Randomized noises and squeals were getting fucked out of you continuously. Chris’ grunts and groans started to get louder as his pace started to quicken, if that was even possible.

“Yeah- yeah me too, fuck..”

Before you both knew it, you both came. Chris was pushed balls deep with his tip smashed against ur cervix. He immediately filled you as he felt you clench and release around him. He tried to nudge even further inside of you to pulse his cum as deep as it could go; even though it was physically impossible for him to go any deeper. A ring of white started to form at his base in a snap.

“That’s my fucking girl, shit.”

small ropes of cum were still shooting inside of you. Your sweaty face was laid against the bed, lids heavy, and lower half absolutely fucked out. Reality slightly snapped back into you as chris pulled out. You looked back and right as his cum was about to spill from you, he plugged ur hole with his thumb.

“chris..”

You whined, unable to release his cum. He chuckled and gripped ur ass with the other free hand he had. God. Just looking back at him in that black tank with his messy hair and stupid fucking smile, sandwiched by his stubble and goaty was enough to rile you up all over again.

“What? I want ‘chu to be filled with cum, not no fuckin’ attitude.”

AN: sorry for the blurb & not a full blown fic; honestly I’m losing love for writing those long ass fan fictions and I might spend more time making good blurbs for you angels to get off to. & yeah, it’s a shitty blurb; let a girl fucking slowly get started up on writing again!!

go to my profile & give me suggestions sweets 🪄

[cursedyuri]

WILL YOU SHUFFLE ME, SPREAD ME APART?

summary: in the slums of zaun, you’ve carved out a life for yourself which not many would envy. you spend your nights in the arms of strangers, trading coin for hasty touches and labored breaths. and since such a line of work isn’t always enough to keep yourself fed and clothed, you have a second service to offer: fortune telling. 

or... two times vi comes knocking, and a third time you let her in.

18+ only! smut below. cw for fingering (r! receiving), cunnilingus, mentions of sex work, brief mentions of blood. 7k words.

The heels of your boots click against damp cobblestone, wet thumps echoing through the dingy alleyway leading to Babette’s brothel. It’s a particularly humid night, even despite the chill in the air - the humidity makes it worse, you think. It feels like the cold is seeping into the very marrow of your bones. 

You pull your cloth coat tighter over your torso, thankful when you rap on the brothel’s wooden door and are allowed in almost instantly. One step through the threshold, and the biting cold melts like early-spring snow. The air is thick here, too, but warm and smoky. Tobacco stings sweet in your nose, a cocktail of too-strong perfumes mixing with ribbons of incense that linger suspended midair. It’s an intoxicating kind of smell, one that makes weak women and weaker men feel more inclined to spend their hard-earned coin on a night with a stranger. 

Part of you is hoping none will choose you tonight. It’s not that you’re opposed to it - gods know you’d be in the wrong line of work if you were. Rather, you’ve got plans to eat the meager dinner you’ve purchased for yourself, sip some red wine, and rifle through your cards for answers about what’s been going on topside lately. You’ve heard murmurs of an attack, rebellion… You’re not exactly sure what to believe, so as you often do, you look to the cards for clarity. 

The deck sits idly by a thicket of half-burnt herbs on your desk, stacked precariously where you’d last used them. You shed your coat and hang it on a brass hook by the desk, then slide into the seat in front of it. Still thawing, you sink into the velvet cushion and reach into your knapsack for the paper-wrapped sandwich inside, also procuring an unmarked bottle of wine from beside it. You’re wiping an iron goblet clean with the fabric of your tiered skirt when a familiar voice calls your name from the doorway. It’s one of the other workers here, Nina. She’s been here just about as long as you.

“You might hate me,” she says, a preface that makes your lips turn downward in a frown. 

You grunt, uncorking your wine and pouring a hearty serving into your goblet. By the sounds of it, you’ll need the liquid courage. “I just sat down, you know.”

Nina’s delicate brows pull together; maybe she’s feeling apologetic, or maybe she’s just laying it on thick so you’ll take a job before you’ve even had dinner. 

“I thought so, but… I think you’ll like her, peach.” She pauses for a beat. “And if you take her, I may have some chocolate I’d consider parting with.”

“Bribery,” you say, a grin pulling at your lips as you roll your eyes at Nina’s offer. “But fine. Send her in.”

“Will do, peach,” Nina practically squeals, disappearing from your doorway just as quickly as she’d come. 

Cursing under your breath, you take a swig of wine and turn to the tarnished mirror behind your desk, examining yourself. By some stroke of luck, you’d had the sense to put on a layer of makeup before you’d gone out earlier. Blemishes are covered, your eyes are rimmed with kohl, and a smear of rouge emphasizes the pouty shape of your lips. That’s all you ever need, paired with the eye-catching swell of your breasts against the low-cut linen of your blouse. This will be easy enough.

You’ve drained half the wine in your cup by the time your client knocks at the open door. You turn your head to greet her and, before you can get a word out, the door slams closed with a heavy thud. At first, you gawk at the client because of her notable entrance - but then, you gawk because Nina was right. You like her.

This girl looks like the undercity chewed her up, spit her out, then chewed her up again. She’s all sharp edges and leather and lipstick, black makeup smeared from her eyes to her cheeks. Her hair’s black, too, though you can see patches of red exposed from an uneven dye job and a few heavy-handed washes. She’s certainly achieved the menacing look she’s sought out, and though it’s a mighty contrast to her pale complexion and piercing blue eyes, it somehow works for her - she’s the kind of girl you wouldn’t mind getting dirty for. 

“Good evening,” you say, because it’s all you can seem to think of to break the silence. “Would you like a drink?”

The client surveys you up and down with those icy blue eyes, working her jaw. She nods. “What do you have?”

“Wine, whiskey, gin,” you tell her, gesturing to the makeshift bar cart beside a loveseat at the entrance of your suite. Different colored liquors fill antique, mismatched bottles at different levels. The client glances over at them, steps up to the cart and surveys that, too. Then she turns to you, gestures to your goblet.

“I’ll have what you’re having.” 

You nod. “Wine it is, then. Have a seat, I’ll bring it to you.” 

She obliges, lowering herself onto the plum fabric of the loveseat. Her legs are spread just so - enough to make it obvious that this woman is used to taking up space, and unafraid of what that kind of confidence might imply. Your eyes linger on her parted knees, but not long enough to get caught. After you fill up a goblet for her and refill your own, you glide across the room to hand her the drink. She accepts it with a nod of thanks, her fingertips brushing against yours in the process. You take a seat beside her.

“What’s your name?” You regard her behind fluttering lashes, sipping from your freshly filled goblet. The wine is sweet on your tongue, bitter around the edges. You can already feel it loosening your muscles, relaxing your inhibitions. Piquing your curiosity, even. 

The client takes a swig from her own drink and says, “Vi.” 

Vi. Her name is tattooed on her cheekbone, you muse, gaze sweeping over her face once again. There’s a silver hoop pierced through her nose, a scar etched into her upper lip. A healing bruise on her left jaw catches your eye, blooming faint shades of purple, yellow, and green. You’re afflicted with an urge to reach out and touch it - to touch her. But when she catches your gaze with those steely eyes of hers, you’re frozen. Like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar, your cheeks flush hot. Vi seems amused by your appraisal, cracks a smile that looks somehow natural on her war-torn face. 

She cuts through the tension like a spearhead, one hand reaching forward to readjust the sleeve of your blouse, which had fallen down your shoulder. Her fingertips are cold and calloused, but the touch fills you with uncharacteristic warmth. “What’s your name?” 

You tell her and she repeats it, that sultry voice curling around every syllable of your name as if she were tasting it. 

However intoxicating Vi’s voice might be, it dawns on you again what she’s doing here. She’d paid for your time, paid to sip your wine and touch you with those split-knuckled hands of hers. You have the sense to wonder why - a woman like Vi should have no trouble warming her bed for free, yet here she is.

“Well, Vi,” you say, pausing briefly for another sip of wine, “how do you want me?”

If your straightforwardness bothers her, she doesn’t show it. She brushes dark locks of her out of her eye-line, seemingly considering your answer. Then: “I heard you tell fortunes.”

You quirk a brow at her. “I—yes. Is that what you want?”

Something flashes in her eyes. “Among other things.”

“It’s extra for that,” you clarify. “The fortune-telling, I mean.”

“I have enough.”

And that settles it. You uncross your legs, stand up and move to retrieve your deck of cards from the desk. There’s a table in front of the loveseat where Vi still sits, and that’s where you lay out an ornate silk cloth to spread the cards upon. You gather the thicket of herbs from your desk, too, along with a match. Vi watches you set fire to the sprigs, a stream of smoke billowing upwards and filling the air with a sweet, earthy scent. 

“What questions do you have?” You ask, settling down upon a floor pillow on the opposite side of the table from Vi. After you set down your goblet of wine, you pick up the deck and begin to shuffle; the fluttering sounds of cards fills the silence before Vi can answer.

“Do I need to ask questions?”

“No, I guess not,” you respond, shoulders shrugging. “I can just see what the cards say about you.”

Vi nods her assent, tossing her head back to finish what’s left of her wine. One by one, cards fly out from the deck as you shuffle, some upright, some inverted. When you’ve circulated through the deck once or twice with no other cards presenting themselves, you stop. 

“Five of cups,” you read aloud. The card’s illustration depicts a figure in a black cloak, turned away, three emptied cups at her feet. Behind her are two upright cups, unnoticed. “Loss. Mourning.”

Vi inhales sharply through her nose, and when you look up at her, she’s white-knuckled with her hand around the stem of her now-empty goblet. You lift your brows in a wordless question - should you continue? 

She nods.

“Something didn’t work out as you’d planned it, and you’re too stubborn to let go. Instead, you lament the loss and let it hold you hostage.” 

There’s a sound like Vi humming, a quiet acknowledgement of your words as you move to the next card. 

“Four of wands, reversed - this tells me you’ve been separated from loved ones. This is what didn’t work out as planned, maybe?” 

When you look at Vi this time, she’s leaning forward in her seat, forearms braced against her strong thighs. 

“Maybe,” she echoes. “What else is there?”

You show her the next card, another inverted one. The illustration depicts a man in ornate clothing, a flower plucked between his fingers as he prances confidently towards the edge of a cliff. “The fool, reversed.” 

“That’s me?” Vi asks. “The fool?” 

“Hm, not always. But with the other cards… You are the fool, Vi, I’m sorry to say it.” You hope she catches the tinge of playfulness in your tone, serious as the reading feels. Heavy as the tension feels.

“Well,” she starts, “the cards don’t lie, I guess.”

You hum in agreement. “The fool, reversed this way, tells me that you’re reckless. Lacking caution, you’ve opened yourself up to betrayal.” 

“Fuck’s sake.” Vi laughs without humor, tries to drink the last crimson drops of the wine in her goblet. “Can I get some more?”

You move to get up and fetch her the bottle, but she waves a hand to dismiss you. She’s up and across the room in a flash, refilling her cup and taking a swig before she’s even made it back to the loveseat. 

“But…” You hold up her final card - judgement. The art depicts an angel blaring into a trumpet from the heavens, the humans below rejoicing. Her eyes assessing the card, Vi looks to you for an explanation.

“Judgement tells us that renewal and transformation is possible,” you finish

“Renewal, transformation... Right. What’s the catch?”

Smart woman, you think. There’s always a catch. 

“You have to be willing to let go of what’s held you stagnant. Accept what’s behind you and focus on what’s ahead, because wallowing in misfortune does you no good.”

That seems to resonate, because Vi’s expression turns shadowy, thoughtful. She drinks again, her lips nearly purple from the wine. You take a moment to drink from your own cup, ready to ask Vi if she wants you to undress yourself, or if she’s the kind of client who wants to do it for you. 

Instead, you’re stunned into silence when she polishes off her drink, slams the cup down onto the table, and stands. Her jaw is locked again, tense. 

“Vi?” Your brows lift in question. 

“Thank you,” she says. She moves towards the door, then stops when she seems to remember something. One bandaged hand digs into her jacket pocket, emerging with a handful of coin. She places it on the nearest surface, a small table with a lamp glowing atop it, and only glances back towards you before she vanishes out the door. 

There’s a draft in the room, suddenly. You curl into bed, pull the covers over your goosebump-afflicted skin, and think.

The days following Vi’s visit dawn bleak and cold as ever. Nina asks about your client the following morning, and you let her bask in the satisfaction that you had liked her, but you politely break the news that she’d been nothing particularly special - a white lie to keep the questions at bay. You’re not one to run your mouth; besides, rumors spread through Babette’s brothel like wildfire. 

Some of the latest rumors? There’s a man with magical abilities lurking in the shadows of Zaun, with a touch that heals the sick. There’s a blue-haired revolutionary forming a significant following in the undercity, those of whom claim she’ll free them from Piltover’s brutality. You’re not sure what to believe, but there must be some truth to the rumors, because your cards sense something afoot: the tower, ten of swords, ace of cups. 

Still, business continues as usual. Degenerates and saints alike seek your company, and you need the money to survive, so your bed is always warm. 

Because you’ve had dozens of clients over the years who visit and never return, you don’t expect to see Vi again. Still, your mind keeps returning to her - you wonder why she’d stormed out so suddenly, why she’d paid you for sex without laying a finger on you. The curiosity lingers in the back of your mind, but you counter it with reality: she’d probably chickened out. Heard something too striking in her reading and couldn’t follow through, but decided to pay for your time anyway. At most, it was a kind gesture. 

So why can’t you stop thinking about her? 

Weeks pass, and your routine continues. Tonight’s another late night, and you’re relaxing after several clients in a row. You’d bathed in water treated with salts and oils, the scents still clinging to your skin as you rub salve into your aching muscles. The last few clients had been rough - twisting your limbs, working you into positions that tested your flexibility and endurance as they used their tongues, fingers, and other appendages to chase their pleasure through your body. None of them had made you come, though, so in the momentary solitude of the bath, you’d slipped your hand between your legs until your release pulsated through your tired frame. Now, you’re feeling pleasantly warm and at ease, perfumed and ready if there may be a late-night visitor. You’d be grateful for the extra money, if you’re being honest.

When there’s a steady knock at the door, you saunter over to answer it in nothing but your lingerie, lacy black and surprisingly comfortable. Who knows? They might pay extra for such ease of access - and a nice presentation. 

The flirty smile on your lips disappears when you realize who’s on the other side of the door. 

“Gods—Vi?” You try not to express your shock, schooling your features to the best of your ability. Vi, however, turns a pretty shade of pink when she takes in the sight of you: tits pushed together and decorated in delicate lace, the soft hair over your sex barely obscured with thin fabric. Your thighs are plush and glowy with moisture, hips hugged beautifully by the high-waisted panties that match your elaborate bra. 

Vi’s throat bobs with a hard swallow. “I’m… Sorry to interrupt.”

“You weren’t interrupting,” you assure her, opening the door all the way to allow her entry. You try to ignore the way her gaze first moves to the empty bed, something like relief washing over her features before she turns back to you. The door shuts with a soft click. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I thought you were a client.”

After wrapping yourself in the first robe you find by your bedside, you move to the bar cart to pour Vi a drink. She scoffs, an almost-laugh that’s low and soft. “Well, I am a client.”

As the wine sloshes into her goblet, you fix her with an admonishing look. “A client looking for sex, Vi.” 

That shuts her up. Her cheeks are still pink, you notice, as you take in her appearance: most of the dye has faded out of her hair, leaving it a patchy canvas of black, maroon, and fuschia. She’s still sporting a cut and a bruise here and there, but more wounds are covered with bandages than last time. Notably, she’s not drenched in black paint, though there is a ring of liner around her eyes. 

“Thanks,” Vi says when you hand her a cup of wine. She shoots back a mouthful and moves to the loveseat, lowering herself into the same spot as last time.

“So?” You arch a brow at her. “Here for another reading, I take it?”

She nods. “Yeah, sweetheart. If that’s okay.”

“I thought I scared you away last time,” you reply with a smirk. There’s a hint of truth to the statement, though, teasing as you might be - you hadn’t expected to see her back so soon, if at all. 

“Oh, you did,” she admits. “But things have changed, and now… I’m curious what you have to say. I could use some advice.”

“Your wish is my command.” 

Just as it was last time, Vi’s attention is honed in on you. You shuffle the cards with expert precision, and she watches the way your hands dance over the deck, fingers grazing the careful illustrations of each card with easy familiarity. This time, five cards leap from the deck: seven of cups, the chariot, eight of wands, four of wands, eight of pentacles. It’s a story unfolding beneath your fingertips, all the more interesting when you think back to Vi’s last reading.

“You’ve made progress,” you tell her. “But the hard work isn’t over. You’re prone to wishful thinking, which is a good thing, sometimes, because your determination is a powerful force.” 

Glancing up at Vi, you offer her an encouraging smile. “When you fight, I get the sense that you almost always win.”

Vi snorts, wiping a burgundy smear of wine from her mouth with the back of her hand. “That’s what the cards say?”

“Not exactly, but, well… I’ve gathered some things for myself.” You hold up the chariot card. “This one tells me you need an ironclad will to move forward. One I don’t doubt you have.”

Is it just your imagination, or does Vi turn pink again?

“And these,” you say, holding up the two cards from the wand suit, “show me fire. Creation, destruction, volatility. You’re dealing with something that can be useful or detrimental, depending on how you proceed.”

Vi’s eyes are alight, not unlike the fire you’ve just discussed. What you wouldn’t give to know how her life aligns with these cards - what fire is she playing with? What challenges is she facing?

“And the last one?” Vi’s voice cuts through your internal musings as she gestures to the final card on the table. You pick it up and show it to her - the eight of pentacles, depicting a man hard at work, hammer in hand.

“It’s very much in line with the others,” you explain. “Diligence, focus, hard work.”

She hums, nodding. “Got it. So, any chance there's a card that’ll tell me what I should do?”

Her tone drips with sarcasm, but you can tell there’s a glimmer of sincerity in the question - and in those pale blue eyes, swirling with emotion. 

You press your lips into a firm line, setting the eight of pentacles card down. “I wish I could tell you exactly what you want to hear, Vi,” you say honestly. “But that’s not how the cards work.”

“Yeah,” Vi responds, voice bitter around the edges; somber. “I figured as much. Thank you, uh, for the reading.”

In the silence that follows, you imagine a braver version of yourself: one that isn’t too hesitant to ask questions. One that would feel comfortable offering a listening ear to this riot of a woman, whose scars and bruises tell you just as much as the cards you’ve splayed out for her. You wonder where she goes after she leaves here, if that home holds a family, friends, a lover. But all you can do is wonder. You don’t go sniffing for information - like the brothel dweller you are, information finds you. And if it doesn’t, perhaps it’s better to wonder.

Vi rises from the loveseat, readjusting one of the tattered blankets strewn across its surface. She finishes the remainder of her wine and, gently, sets it on the table. 

She says, “I’ve gotta go.”

Her hand dips into her jacket pocket and emerges with far too much coin, which she sets out on the table for you.

“That’s too much,” you counter with a furrowed brow. “We didn’t—you only had your cards read.”

You reach forward to collect the extra cash, ready to push it back into Vi’s palm, but she backs away with her hands in her pockets. 

“Nah, sweetheart,” she replies, ambling towards the door and prying it open. “Keep the change.”

The next time you see Vi, her knuckles are bleeding. 

It’s been weeks, maybe even months, and you’re surprised to find her at your door again, much less in her current state: battered and bruised, her knuckles raw and red. Her shoulders sag, that proud, confident air about her entirely deflated. She’s a shell of the woman you’d first met months ago; all that brazen confidence she’d once had has burnt down to dying embers. 

When she looks at you, her eyes are forlorn, watery. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Oh, Vi…” You open the door further, ushering her in with a gentle hand at the small of her back. 

Inside, you pour her a drink - water, this time - and instruct her to lie down on the bed, draping a thin blanket over her frame. 

“You’re hurt,” you say pointedly, gesturing to her bleeding knuckles. “Can I help?”

Vi’s expression doesn’t change; her eyes are distant, her skin so pale it’s almost grey. But she nods her assent, so you get to work - you swipe a wet cloth over her knuckles to clear away the blood, then cautiously apply a salve to her wounds. Through it all, Vi hardly even winces, a fact that doesn’t exactly surprise you. Even now, with her brazen confidence stripped away to the bone, she’s tougher than most. It’s an attribute that runs through her to the core. 

“Don’t you want to ask what happened?” Vi asks, suddenly. Her voice is raw, and to avoid looking her in the eye, you focus on wrapping her knuckles with layers of soft gauze. “Wanna know how I fucked up this time?”

You frown. “I’m not one to pry.”

There’s a long, pregnant pause before Vi speaks again. “That’s what’s different about you,” she says. “Everyone else just… Wants something from me.”

Brows knitting together, you fix Vi with a look that you hope reads less as pitying and more as understanding. You’re certainly familiar with catering to other’s desires over your own; it’s been this way for longer than you can remember. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, genuinely. Finished dressing her wounds, you let go of her hands, still kneeling at the side of the bed. You stand up with the intention of refilling Vi’s water, but as you reach for the cup, she catches your wrist in one bandaged hand. 

“All those times I saw you,” she starts, “when I had you read my cards… You never asked about my life.”

You nod, wrist burning from her touch. 

“Why? You never wondered?”

“It’s not my job to wonder.” You swallow. “Just to give people what they want.”

Vi’s gaze is intense, holding you in a trance. You’re frozen there, standing at the side of the bed, entirely in her grasp. “But do you ever get what you want?”

Do you?

You’d been working for Babette for years, longer than most - and before that, even as a child, you’d always understood that bending to the will of others is the easiest way to move through life. You can slip through the cracks that way, get enough coin or food or clothing to live another day. You wanted that, you suppose. To live. 

But you’re not sure that’s what Vi’s talking about.

“I have enough,” you say. “There’s not much I want.”

Vi nods. “But there’s something.” 

You smooth your free hand over hers, and she lets go of your wrist. “I’ll get you some water.”

As you refill her cup, you feel her eyes on you, and your mind races. Why does she care about what you want? You’re a stranger to her, a fortune teller living on scraps in an undercity brothel. First, she’d paid you for sex she’d never had, and now she’s in your bed, asking you questions you barely had the wherewithal to ask yourself. Gods, this woman is something else. You wish you could read her mind - crack open that beautiful skull of hers, sift through her thoughts, learn what had led her to you not once, not twice, but three times. You wish you could know everything about her, read her like your favorite book with its pages dog-eared, its cover well-worn.

Maybe that’s what you want, after all.

Returning to the bedside, you hand Vi her cup and stand by as she takes a long drink, then sets it on the nightstand. Her hair has grown a few inches since the first time you’d met her, you muse, and you like it this way - long locks of pink-crimson fall in jagged layers just past her shoulders, her bangs framing her face nicely. You wonder what it would feel like to reach out and run your fingers through that hair, to brush it free of knots, to hold the back of her head in your palm. 

“It’s late,” Vi says, interrupting your train of thought. “I should go - you should get some rest.”

She peels back the blanket you’d settled over her, sitting up. You hesitate, then reach forward to touch her forearm. “You can stay, I don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you up,” Vi says, “or… Keep away any business.”

Something in your chest tightens. “You won’t.”

“I shouldn’t—”

“I want you to stay,” you interrupt. “You need rest, too.”

Vi’s mouth hangs open for a moment, stormy blue eyes assessing you. Then, she settles back into bed, pulling the blanket up over her chest again. There’s a long pause, only the muffled sounds of laughter and salacious moans from other rooms filling the silence. You’re debating setting yourself up on the loveseat when Vi murmurs a quiet hey to capture your attention, then pats the space beside her in bed.

There are candles still burning on desks and tables and dressers throughout the room, lamps shining in shades of yellow and orange. You’ll lie down for only a moment, you tell yourself, long enough for Vi to doze off. Then you’d turn off the lights, blow out the candles, maybe sneak off to find a client looking for a fortune teller. You sense that Vi needs someone beside her for now, though, so you climb into bed, wrapping your frame in a velvety purple blanket. 

Once you’ve settled in next to her, Vi turns on her side to face you. Her lips, rosebud pink, are chapped, and you watch her moisten them with a swipe of her tongue.

“Thank you,” she says, voice hushed. “For letting me stay here.”

I didn’t know where else to go.

You turn over to face her, too, the corners of your lips pulling upwards. “Of course. I’m glad you’re okay, Vi.”

There’s a softness in Vi’s expression, now - one that you hadn’t seen before. The tough facade has melted away, as has the hurt, the pain. All that’s left is her rounded, wide eyes, her relaxed jaw, the curve of her lips. You catch yourself staring too long, and when you look up again, Vi’s already watching you.

She raises a bandaged hand to your face, where it hovers an inch away. Her expression asks for permission, and when you lean into her touch, Vi’s hand cups your cheek with a gentleness you’d never think her capable of. Not with those scars, not with the cuts and bruises that have become a permanent fixture on her skin. Her thumb skates over your cheekbone, and the touch feels electric.

“You’re beautiful, you know.”

Your breath hitches; you hope she doesn’t notice.

“I’m sure you hear that a lot,” Vi adds. And it’s true, you do. 

You hesitate. Then: “Not from anyone who matters.” 

Vi smiles - it’s a soft kind of smile, one that you wish you could take a photo of, frame it and hang it on the wall to return to when you need a reminder of the warmth in this moment. Her hand leaves your cheek and travels down to your arm, then finding your hand beneath the blankets. Your eyes feel heavy, suddenly - so must hers, because she doesn’t speak again. You fall asleep next to her, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing, her hand warm and heavy in yours.

When you wake up again, the room is a dark, inky blue. 

You sit upright, back straight, memories of the night before slowly filtering into your mind. Half-expecting an empty space where Vi had once been, you glance to the side, finding her sleeping figure curled under the blankets. Chest tightening, you look down at her in the black dark, eyes straining. 

Her eyes open, lashes fluttering, and you gasp.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Did I wake you up?”

“I’m a light sleeper,” she murmurs back to you. One of her arms snakes around your waist, encouraging you to lie back, and you oblige. You’re closer than you were when you fell asleep, Vi’s steady breaths tickling at your shoulder. 

You’re suddenly very aware of her skin on yours; your shirt has ridden up your stomach in your sleep, and Vi’s arm, wrapped around you, burns against you. Your stomach is warm with something delicious, something dangerous.

It doesn’t help when Vi pulls you closer, palm opening against the flesh of your hip. You’re frozen for a moment, wondering if she’s still sleeping, somehow. 

“Vi?”

“Hm?” You feel her draw back, as if waiting for you to turn over, so you do. Eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, you peer up at her. 

“I think I know what I want.” 

Vi’s quiet, her gaze steady on you. You’re about to take it back, whisper never mind and turn to sleep again, when she brings her hand back up to your cheek, cupping it in her hand the same way she had the night before. 

“Tell me,” she whispers in the dark.

“I…” You hesitate. “I want you to touch me.”

There’s a long pause, Vi’s eyes flickering over your face, analyzing your expression. Your body is tense with anticipation, and when she finally, finally leans in to press her lips to yours, the tension seeps out of every muscle.

Like everything about her, Vi’s kiss is different - her touch is different. She holds your face as her lips move against yours, soft and wet and sweet, thumb stroking the soft skin of your cheek as her tongue traces the part of your lips. You open your mouth for her, let her lick into you to deepen the kiss. 

It’s been a long, long time since you’ve been kissed like this. You’ve grown accustomed to hasty, messy kisses, foul breath and rough touches, far too many clients eager to skip past the kissing and get to the fucking. But Vi tastes like heaven as she takes her time with you, tongue soft as it pushes against yours. Every kiss leaves you aching for more, the warmth in your lower belly growing hotter with each smack of your lips against Vi’s. You pull back, catching your breath, and Vi peers at you with bleary eyes. 

“You okay?” She asks, thumb still stroking at your cheek. You nod and pull her in for another kiss, drawing a soft moan from the bottom of her throat - one that goes straight to your cunt. 

You’re not sure how long you continue like that, trapped in a heated kiss, bodies moving closer with every languid sigh and pleading moan. But eventually, the layers of clothing between you is a burden you can no longer bear. You pull back to work your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor before Vi tugs you close for another searing kiss. Your hands slip beneath the thin fabric of her tank, and she shivers, a full-body chill that makes you flush impossibly hotter. Once her shirt is discarded, too, Vi gently pushes you to lie flat on your back, climbing over you in nothing but a thin pair of shorts. You realize through the haze of lust clouding your mind that she must’ve woken up before you - she’d turned the lights off, taken off the stiff pair of pants she’d arrived in the night before. 

Hovering over you in the dark, Vi’s an absolute dream. Tattoos decorate her pale complexion, inked into her arms, her shoulders, her neck - you’d already noticed that she’s heavily inked, but it’s more striking when she’s half-naked like this. You don’t have much time to look, though, because Vi leans over to tuck her face into your neck, warm lips latching to the sensitive skin and littering kisses in an imprecise path. You keen high in your throat, leaning the opposite way to grant her more access, your hands finding purchase on her narrow hips. When you dig your nails into her skin, hissing as she parts her lips over your neck and sucks, her hips buck forward, grinding her thinly-clothed heat over your pelvis. You nearly see stars.

There’s always been a cold draft in your room, in the brothel, and in Zaun as a whole. But here, now, you’re on fire. You lift your hips and push Vi down against your pelvis again, encouraging her to find that friction again, and she emits a muffled moan against your neck when she does. It’s heavenly, that sound - you want to hear it again and again and again, until it’s forever etched into your memory. 

“Gods, Vi,” you gasp, her teeth scraping against your neck. She works her way further south, leaving kisses and bites in her wake, until she reaches the peaks of your breasts.

“You’re so pretty, fuck,” she murmurs, dazed. Both hands cup your tits and squeeze, her thumbs playing with the buds of your nipples until they’ve hardened from her touch. She then leans over to take one nipple into her mouth, moaning around the flesh as if she’d been dying for this. Her tongue draws wet circles over the sensitive bud, her cheeks hollowing out when she sucks at it until you’re gasping and writhing. You need her further down, where your cunt throbs and gushes in anticipation, but she takes her time with your other tit before she even considers undressing you further. 

Still straddling your waist, Vi sits up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She flashes you a wicked smile, eyes twinkling, and lifts her hips to reach for the waistband of your shorts.

“This okay, pretty girl?” 

You nod, biting your lip. Pretty girl.

Vi rolls your shorts down your thighs, pulls them off with ease and sets them to the side. Your panties are next - a simple, cotton pair that wasn’t anything flashy - and she tosses those to the edge of the bed, too distracted by the sight of your naked body to care much about where they landed. 

Typically, you weren’t shy about your body. In your line of work, you couldn’t be shy - you had to know your features and work them to your benefit. But with Vi eyeing you like you’re a meal and she’s a woman starved, your stomach flutters with excitement and, somewhere, a glimmer of insecurity. The need to impress her. 

And gods, does she seem impressed. She curses under her breath, her rough hands smoothing over the curves of your body, squeezing your hips and your thighs and your ass, licking her lips like she’s parched. You realize, as she settles her hands on your knees and works them apart for you, that she’d taken off her bandages, too. The thought evaporates as quickly as it had come, though, because now Vi’s settling between your spread legs, peppering kisses along the inside of your thigh.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” she tells you between kisses. “You gonna let me eat you out, sweetheart?”

The question sends another cascade of butterflies through your stomach. You take in a deep breath, enjoying the sight of Vi between your legs, looking up at you with pleading eyes. You might die if she doesn’t make you come soon.

A whispered “please” from your lips is all Vi needs - her mouth is on you in a moment, tongue splitting through your folds, warm and firm and wet. She licks at you languidly, takes her time spreading your arousal from your hole up to your clit. You’re drenched, you just know it, and Vi moans as if to confirm your suspicions, lapping up your wetness with every flick of her tongue. Just like she’d taken her time with her mouth on your tits, she takes her time with your cunt, sucking on the swollen bead of your clit until you’re whining her name between sharp breaths. It’s all you can manage to say, your hand tangled in her scarlet locks of hair, tugging at her scalp each time she circles your clit with her tongue. After she’s worked you up enough, you’re suddenly so empty - you need more, and you tell her as much, chest heaving.

“Vi, I need—fuck, I need your fingers,” you cry out.

She answers with a gratified hum, and the vibrations have your eyes rolling back into your skull.

Just as you’d asked, though, Vi swipes a finger through your wetness; there’s hardly any resistance when she sinks the digit into your entrance, groaning again at the feeling of your walls around her. 

“So wet for me,” she comments, grinning. “This what you needed?”

You nod, face twisting with pleasure. Vi just chuckles under her breath, working her fingers up to a steady pace. Once she has you moaning again, all high-pitched and needy, she latches her mouth back onto your clit, and you’re gone. You come hard, clamping down on Vi’s fingers and tossing your head back, eyes squeezed shut through every wave of pleasure - it’s only once you’ve come to that you finally open your eyes again, gazing down at Vi starry-eyed.

“Can I be honest, sweetheart?” She sits up on her heels, licking her lips. “That was hot.”

“You think so?” You ask, reaching out for her. She moves closer and kisses you, lets you taste yourself on her lips. 

You pull back only to murmur, under your breath, “I’m not done with you, Vi.”

You’ve had sex with plenty of women in your lifetime, but few have made a real effort to make you come - and none have done it so fast. You’re determined to return the favor. So, with a pointed glance, you instruct Vi to lie back on the pillows, plucking one from behind her to set under her hips.

Vi had called you beautiful, but she’s utterly divine. All sharp edges and lean muscle, she’s a vision, and you’re almost convinced you’re dreaming as your hands smooth over the tattoos inked into her arms. You imagine yourself tracing each of those tattoos with your mouth, sucking bruises into the dark ink - but you’d do that later. Right now, all you want is to bury your face in the patch of red hair between her legs, lose yourself in the taste of her arousal.

Vi’s vocal, you conclude, because as you prod your tongue inside of her, nose bumping against her clit, she won’t shut up. 

“That’s it, fuck, you’re so good,” Vi moans, sitting up enough to allow her to watch as you lap at her pink cunt. An endless chorus of praises and curses leave her lips, punctuated with wanton moans. She’s needy, too - before long, she’s gripping a fistful of your hair and directing you with it, tugging you closer, to the side, to the other side, as she grinds her cunt down against your mouth. You revel in the way she’s using you, pleased when her stomach tenses and your name spills from her lips, warning you of her impending orgasm. She rides it out on your face, and when you finally pull back, you’re wet with her from nose to chin. 

“You’re way too good at that,” Vi tells you when you crawl up beside her, rubbing the wetness off your nose. 

“You’re just as good,” you respond. You move to lie down beside Vi, but when you see her frown, you arch a brow at her.

“Hm?”

“Sweetheart,” she coos, “I’m not done with you.”

She pulls you into her lap, lets you straddle the toned muscle of her pelvis. And after you’ve ground your pussy against her until you’re shaking with another release, she’s still not done. It’s a long night.

At the table in the corner of your bedroom, your deck of tarot cards lies spread face-down. There’s one card upright, though: two of cups.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Please please please bless me with more baby daddy Jason. I’m so obsessed with it 😭 just thought about if he caught you staring a little too long at him being a good father he would make fun of how sexy you find him and how you still want him

Oh, how this has lifted my mood after getting covid during the holiday season🙏I can totally see him getting cocky like that, too. Just imagine this man letting out a near-silent scoff as he catches your gaze wandering across his muscles as he picks up your daughter

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd Part 2

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who doesn't actually bother you too much after that night you spent together. To your surprise, he doesn't expect much of anything in return. That moment simply turned into an unacknowledged secret that only the two of you would ever know about.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who still tries to show up to every little preschool function or birthday party your daughter has, despite the unspoken tension between you two. Despite what that little voice in your mind was screaming to do, you actually started inviting him to those kind of things. Typically, he would've just shown up unannounced.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who starts acting like your boyfriend or husband at parent-teacher conferences. On the rare occasion that the both of you show up to discuss your daughter with her teachers, they assume that you're together as a couple. Jason, ever the sly bastard, doesn't correct them.

You don't, either.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who actually starts playing into the role as soon as your 'relationship' gets brought up in public. If you happen to be sitting close enough, he'll grab your hand and start tracing invisible circles onto the back of it with his thumb. If you're really close, Jason will absolutely go as far as to sling an arm around your shoulders.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who is the biggest topic around the other single mothers at your daughter's daycare or preschool. Almost every time he makes an appearance, somebody asks for his number or tries to make small talk. He giggles like an idiot every time you have to scold him for giving them all the rejection hotline number.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who, when he does get asked about relationships by other women at your daughter's childcare facilities, will say that you're together in a committed relationship with no hesitation. He isn't really sure why he does it, either. It only really came about after you two slept together a few months ago.

To be fair, you do call Jason your boyfriend when a creepy guy asks you out.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who starts hanging out with you casually when he gets the chance. You've ripped him a new one a few too many times when telling him to keep out of excessive danger. What better way to spend his off time now that he doesn't do huge missions than being with his two favorite girls?

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who somehow manages to blend right back into your life when he puts vigilante work to the side a little. He's there to pick up your daughter from day care or playdates when you need him to. He's cooking dinner for you and the little one on a rough day before you even have to ask.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who knows exactly how you feel about him. He sees the way your eyes linger as he stands in your kitchen cooking or how your gaze drifts to his biceps as he picks up your daughter to bring her to bed. "Eyes are up here, sweetness," is what he teases every time he catches your stares.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who is knocking on your door mere minutes after you've texted or called him having a breakdown when your daughter is at a sleepover. He doesn't even care what you're crying about, you're scooped up into his arms instantly. "Shhh... I have you," is one of the constant reassurances he mutters into your hair, "I'm right here. You're not alone."

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who has you practically sitting on his lap as he holds you, his calloused hands rubbing up and down your back in a soothing motion. You don't even remember when the slipped under the hem of your (his old) shirt to rub gently at your bare skin.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who listens to you talk, no matter how stupid or silly your problems seem whe compared to his own. He knows better than to give advice other than when you ask for it, so he simplu holds you and listens. "I know, I know..." Is all he coos into your slightly mussed hair as his hands rub and massage your skin.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who waits until you're done speaking to move or say anything. "Look, baby..." You hate how much you still love the petname, "I know it's tough. Trust me, I know." You hate how you love him. "But I'm here, alright? I... I'm sorry I have a tendency to walk out on both of you, but... I'm here now. I'm here as whatever you need me to be. If you need me to stay for you and her, I will. If you need me to leave, I'll go without another thought."

"If you want to forget about what happened the other night, then we'll both forget about it. If you don't want to..." You didn't let him finish, instead capturing his slightly parted lips with your own.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who only pulls away when you do, the pupils of his beautiful green eyes dilated as he looks down at you in his lap. His hands never cease their movement caressing the fat and muscles of your back as he lets out a soft huff of amusement. "You're absolutely crazy getting involved with me voluntarily, doll face." Even as he tries to play it off, you can hear the affection and fondness in his voice.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who takes his time with you instead of rutting into you like an uncaged animal. His hands are slow as they roam across your body, relearning every single one of your curves and crevices like it's the first time he's seen your naked body. Each motion is filled with such care and adoration that you question why you ever split up, even if just for a moment.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who takes every single ounce of your stress away without trying. It doesn't matter that he's only slept with you once or twice in the past couple of years, he's drawing out every single orgasm he can from your pretty little pussy.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who says the nastiest things when hooking up with you. He absolutely gets off on the thought of getting you pregnant again, but he knows better after thinking about the situation the two of you are in. "You're fucking milking me for all I've got, ma," he grunts out as he pounds you relentlessly from behind, his large hands almost dwarfing your hips as he holds them for leverage, "I'm gonna fill this pussy up all over again. You'd like that, huh? You want another little me running around this joint?"

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who, surprisingly, stays the morning after. It isn't picture perfect- nothing ever is- but it's still... Calm. Peaceful. Home. Like something you've never gotten with him before. The pair of you are still completely in the nude, your bodies tangled beneath the mess of sheets. But as your eyes flutter open with the first rays of morning light, the sight of Jason with small clumps of black and white hair stuck to his forehead from the previous night feels right.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who starts sticking around for a few days at a time after that. You're not sure just how it happened, but your daughter certainly loves it. She missed her daddy being around more often instead of being told that he was 'on a work trip' when it wasn't safe for Jason to see her.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who doesn't miss a beat when your sweet, innocent daughter asks if he's staying this time and if mommy will stay too. "Of course I am, baby girl," Jason, of course, makes direct eye contact with you as he says this before lifting the toddler into his lap. "Promise?" A smile. An actual, genuine smile that only she can get from him. "Promise."

How could you possibly say no to that?

Masterlist

[nochepsicodelica]

It's two in the morning and you're knocking on your own front door after a night out with your friends. Your mind has been occupied by static, not allowing you to remember that you have a key to let yourself in, so you stand there alone, waiting to be let in. You plant your hand on the wall to keep yourself balanced, looking left and right to see if anybody or any car is looking at you as they pass by.

Just as you're about to knock, again, the door opens and you flinch, your other hand flying to the wall to remain steady on your feet. You look up at your man with warped vision, blinking a little to try and clear your view of him. You can't contain your laughter when you see the stern look on Toji's face, his green eyes laced with concern you can't process in this state.

"What the fuck..." Toji mutters, to himself. What kind of friends would just drop you off without making sure that you get inside your house, safely? It's late. Who knows how long you had been standing there before you knocked. Anyone could have snatched you away.

Toji will catch you. You know he'll catch you if you just lean forward into him, like a backwards trust fall, so you set the plan in motion. You drag your feet and move your hands along the wall until you're in the safe zone, and then you just fall forward.

"Woah, hey." He's quick to hold you up against him, to prevent you from sliding down his body and to the floor. "Hey, you good? Talk to me. Can you walk?" Toji doesn't receive much of a response from you. Just quiet little giggles and incoherent mumbles. He sighs and picks you up, draping you over his shoulder. The door is shut and locked, before he makes his way to the bedroom. The light is already on, because he was awake the entire time, awaiting your arrival. Toji sets you down on the bed and briefly sits on the edge, by your feet.

"You didn't answer my calls, and I texted you like twenty times." He lifts your feet and takes their place, before setting them down on his lap so that you are comfortable. His fingers make haste of undoing the buckles on your high heels and he sets the shoes down, placing them under the bed.

You simply hum in response, not entirely sure of how you got to the room. The light is so bright and it's irritating your eyes, making it hard for you to hold them open.

"Told you to let me know if you needed me to pick you up, dummy." Toji wraps his hands around one of your ankles, his fingers kneading with little pressure, incase the area is tender.

"N-Nooo, i'm... here. Here," you babble.

It's so frustrating to be unable to get a full explanation out of you, right now. Your responses are borderline illogical and it's not doing Toji any good. He feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest. He can't calm down, after he spent the last few hours wondering why you stopped responding to him and why you weren't answering his calls. To open the door and instantly get a whiff of your night out was enraging, not because you got extremely intoxicated, but because there was no one looking out for you by the end of your time out.

Toji understands that there is no point in digging into this, now. You can't even walk or see straight, so he settles for making simple conversation that you can easily digest.

"Did your phone die or something?"

You shake your head, side to side, and his blood boils all over again. This was supposed to be an easy conversation, but he was just so damn worried. His entire body is tense with concern.

"Fuck." He sighs, nodding slightly at your response. "Yeah, okay."

A few seconds of silence go by and Toji thinks you may have fallen asleep, but then you speak up, out of nowhere, again.

"Took lots of pictures..." you mumble, eyes closed as you dig into your pocket for your phone. Once it's in your hand, you toss it on the bed for Toji to grab. He puts your massage on hold and picks up your phone, unlocking it and going to your photo gallery, where immediately, he sees previews of the pictures of you and those so called "friends" who abandoned you on your doorstep. The only reason he cares for those group photos is because you're smiling widely, seemingly laughing, and overall looking extremely happy in every one of them, but as much as he loves the look on your face in those, he loves the pictures you took of yourself and the ones your friends took of you, more. Some you had already sent to him, others he hadn't seen until then, so he sent those pictures to himself.

Toji turns your phone off and sets it aside, before grabbing ahold of your other ankle and repeating the same treatment that he did for the first one.

"There was... ugh..." you sweep away some strands of hair that almost went into your mouth. "A man. I dropped my phone and he- and he got too close behind me when I bent down to pick it up." You nod, with your eyes as wide as they can be in this state, like you're trying to prove that you aren't lying by looking him straight in his eyes.

"That's fucking disgusting, mama." Toji's eyebrows furrow, discomfort written all over his face with this new information you revealed. He squeezes your ankle a little tighter, his mind beginning to cloud with thoughts of never letting you go out without him again, but before he even thinks of spilling these thoughts to you, he asks you the most important questions.

"Are you okay? Did he touch you?"

"Mm-mm, no." You shake your head as quickly as you can without getting dizzy. "Saw his legs behind my legs and I got up and gave him this look..." You furrow your brows and lid your eyes, a gaze that doesn't seem intimidating or warning enough, now, after so many drinks. Your face quickly relaxes after and you roll your eyes with a tired sigh. "Yup, that was the face I made and then I walked away," you say, your attitude more upbeat.

"Did he leave you alone?" Toji asks, hoping nothing more happened. If there is more, he'll have you describe this man to the best of your ability, and he will hunt him down until he can positively assure that he's no longer part of the world's population.

"Yeahhh, don't know where he went." You hum like you're trying to remember, as if you even have that knowledge. You walked away and didn't turn back around, something that finally concludes your brief inability to recall. "Think he got lost." You giggle.

"Good. I'm glad," Toji says. You hum in agreement, and your eyes fall shut, gracing you with two seconds of sleep before your head nods and you wake up, again. Your bashful smile evolves into a short laugh, one that has Toji smiling at how precious you are. "You tired, mama?"

You nod and blink slowly in response, fighting the urge to shut your eyes for longer. Your lips curl into a lazy smile, when Toji presses a kiss to your ankle, before he moves your feet and sets them on the bed so he can get up.

"Let's get you ready for bed, then."

[randompiecesofwriting]

Coffee Snob (pt 3)

Summary: Robby removes readers stitches, she brings food to the Pitt as a thank you much to his coworkers glee

Pairing: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Nothing really just another super fluffy one as things start to get more serious!

Author’s Note: I had absolutely no idea this would grow to be this many parts when I wrote the first one but I am so over the moon with the reception I’ve gotten from the first two parts so I wrote this one too! I’m having so much fun with these two and I’m planning already one more part I think so look out for that! As always please please please let me know what you think! I incessantly reread every comment and reblog with cute tags or extra words they’re my favorite things seriously you all are the best!

Part 1 Part 2

Phone, wallet, keys, phone, wallet, keys.

This was the mantra that resonated through your head as you paced back and forth through your apartment, grabbing anything you could think of to throw into your bag.

Chapstick, hair tie, charger, it all got thrown in.

A book even for while you were waiting, though this had to be a new one since you discovered Robby was keeping the one you were currently reading hostage in his apartment prompting you to now possess a “Robby’s apartment” book and a “your apartment” book. A needlessly complicated system that somehow still worked.

You patted down your pockets making sure that at the very least the essentials were still on you.

Phone, wallet, keys.

With one last look you slipped on your shoes.

Phone, wallet, keys.

Grabbing the door handle you gave the room one last look before turning it.

Phone, wallet, keys

Phone- Robby?

Swinging open your apartment door you came face to face with the familiar physician, warm brown eyes blown open in surprise, fist slightly raised as if to knock on your door.

For a brief moment all the two of you could do was simply stare at one another, the shock starting to ware off as he slowly dropped his arm and the corner of your lips quirked up in a small smile “hey neighbor”

“Hey” he answered softly, another silent beat passing before his eyes snapped to the bag on your shoulder, and the shoes on your feet “headed out?”

“Yeah” you nodded, waving your arm in the air in front of you “finally time to get these out”

He smiled back at that, nodding his head softly “we’re on the same page then, I was just coming to get you”

You furrowed your brow slightly at that, tilting your head to one side in a silent question, had he planned to come walk with you to the clinic?

Seeming to misunderstand your question he shoved his hands into his pockets as he spoke and gestured vaguely down the hall with his head “Yeah I grabbed a removal kit before I left today, come on I’ll get it set up”

Only then did his meaning hit you. He thought you were coming to get him to remove them. “Oh no that’s okay I’m on my way to urgent care”

His smile dropped instantly, eyes scanning over you briefly “why are you going to urgent care? Is everything okay?”

You chuckled softly at his concern, waving him off as you stepped into the hallway and shut your door behind you “yeah I’m fine, just need to get them removed, no biggie”

He seemed almost taken aback by your answer, a frown growing on his face as he brought his arms up to cross over his chest “I can take them out for you”

“Aren’t you supposed to be back on shift in a few hours” You asked with a laugh, the statement being a little hyperbolic but the sentiment behind it all the same “go rest I’ll be fine at urgent care”

His frown only deepened at that, arms tightening in front of him “so you’re just going to let anyone go at you with a blade?”

“Go at me with a blade” you couldn’t help but laugh at his phrasing, smile only dimming slightly as his serious façade still didn’t crack “that’s a bit dramatic don’t you think? Besides I’m fairly certain they all have medical degrees”

“And you know who else does?” He countered quickly “me. They guy right down the hall. Who doesn’t have a wait time and will not charge you”

“Who’s off the clock” You could feel yourself start to get defensive under his disapproving gaze, not realizing how serious he would take this, desperate to make him understand where you were coming from “this stuff is trivial I just didn’t want to bother you with it but if you don’t mind-“

“Of course I don’t mind” he cut you off, his tone almost disbelieving as if the statement itself were absurd “I told you to bother me with things like this”

“You told me to bother you next time I was at the Pitt” Again you were on the defensive “then it was about bothering you with work things while you were at work. You’re off the clock now I don’t want to make you do more work stuff when you don’t have to”

An almost scoff escaped him but the tension held in his stance seemed to fade slightly, brows no longer furrowed quite so severely in frustration “I meant bother me when you’re hurt. Unless it warrants a 911 call come to me” he paused briefly, almost seeming to contemplate his next words before he spoke “I want you to come to me”

You eyed him almost skeptically, watching his face intently, looking for any hint of mistruth “I just feel bad making you work in your free time”

With a dramatic groan he ran a hand through his hair at your words, giving the short strands a quick ruffle before speaking again “you don’t let me take out those stitches and from now on I won’t eat anything you make”

A surprised laugh escaped you at that, your own arms coming to cross over your chest as you mirrored Robby’s posture “what?”

He grinned maliciously at that, nodding slightly as he spoke “I just feel bad making you work in your free time”

You rolled your eyes as your words were thrown back at you “now you’re just being ridiculous”

“Correct” he answered immediately starting to grow smug “this line of logic is ridiculous”

“It’s different” you shot back “I like cooking for you”

He only raised a brow in response, shooting you a pointed look, practically daring you to connect the dots yourself “you’re telling me you enjoy removing stitches in your free time”

He rolled his eyes at that, debating something in his head for a second before speaking, his voice slightly gruffer than before “I like making sure you’re okay in my free time”

You froze on the spot at his words, chest aching slightly as you felt your face start to flush, something Robby seemed to notice as his tone grew smug once more.

“something you did for me just a few days ago when I was sick”

You narrowed your eyes back at him in response, Robby’s expression telling you he knew he had backed you into a corner with that one “I’m making you dinner to make up for it”

He only grinned at that, taking a small step back to allow you room to continue down the hall towards his apartment “you promise?”

Mostly feigning a look of frustration you slipped past him towards his door with a small huff “smug doesn’t suit you Robinavitch”

Robby only laughed in response.

-

This was ridiculous you weren’t nervous to meet Robby’s friends.

That was something people who were dating would do. Something people who were invested would do. Certainly not something a simple neighbor would do.

Maybe if you just thought of them as coworkers that would help.

For better or for worse you couldn’t really dwell on your feelings about the situation, the bags your arms were weighed down with kept you from being able to debate actually going into the hospital for too long.

So fueled more by a desire to rest your aching muscles than anything else you forced your way to the ER of PTMH for the second time in about a week, already regretting the move as a familiar wave of bodies greeted you upon entry.

Before you could talk yourself out of it you made your way to the front desk, bypassing the line of waiting people and flagging one of the nurses who was off to the side doing paperwork.

“You’re going to have to wait in line” she barely spared you a glance as her pen flew across the page.

“No I’m here to see Dr. Michael Robinavitch” You tried to put as much confidence into your voice as you had when you had practiced this interaction earlier.

The move, however, did not have the desired effect as still the nurse’s gaze only came up to quickly sweep you for injuries before returning to her paperwork “As I said you’re going to have to wait your turn in line, a doctor will be by to see you shortly”

“No I-“ you tried to wrack your brain for a way to properly convey that you weren’t a patient, coming up mostly blank leaving you with only one option, one that left you with a too-high-to-be-comfortable chance of completely embarrassing yourself in the process “I’m blue tumbler girl?”

The woman behind the desk froze on the spot, pen hovering just over the surface of the paper as her wide eyes shot up to connect with yours. Your words even had the woman currently dealing with the line snapping to attention, the two woman sharing a silent glance at one another before gaping openly at you.

You tried hard not to squirm under their attention, knowing you were failing miserably in the process and instead deciding to steam-roll ahead “I just wanted to-“ you started to lift the bags in your arm to show them when you were cut off by a loud buzz from the door behind you.

“You can go ahead through that door we’ll let him know you’re here” one of them directed you with a polite smile.

“No that’s okay you don’t have to-“ you tried to protest but the two were already huddled together from behind their desk, rapid fire whispers bouncing back and forth between the two women, both of whom sported expressions you knew would spell trouble for Robby later.

Relieved to at least have their attention off of you, you pushed your way through the door and walked through the hallways back to where you remembered the nurses station to be, coming face to face with the exact person you had been hoping to see.

Dana’s face lit up with a warm smile the minute her eyes connected with yours, dismissing the woman she was talking to quickly and making her way across the room to you, not hesitating to grab one of the heavy bags you were clearly struggling with as she engulfed you in a one-armed hug “hey kid what brings you to the Pitt?”

“Dana” you sighed in relief as you hugged her back “I just wanted to thank you guys for taking care of me last week. I brought food if that’s okay?”

“Of course that’s okay” she waved off your concern without a thought, a steady hand placed on your back to lead you to one of the side rooms as she did so “come on I’ll show you to the break room”

“good I just wasn’t sure if I would just be in the way or if no one would end up wanting it” you gladly followed her lead into the small room, placing the bag you held onto the table.

“please with these animals it’ll be gone in twenty minutes” she shook you off again, working to start removing trays from the bags and set them out for easy access “plus Jianna’s? Better be careful or you’ll spoil them, this couldn’t have been cheap”

“ahhh I-“ you trailed off a bit, suddenly bashful beneath the older woman’s gaze as you helped her “I head chef there so you could say they sort of owe me”

She whistled loudly at that making you chuckle and squirm slightly as she gave you an appraising once over. Eager to turn the attention elsewhere you reached into the bag and plucked one of the drinks from the carrier within.

“Speaking of I came straight from work so no pour over coffee for you today but we do have a kick-ass espresso machine there so…latte?”

Her eyes gleamed as she eagerly took the to-go cup from you and popped the top off, sticking her nose close to the surface and humming softly as she took a deep sniff of its contents. A quick sip later and she was putting the lid back on and bringing up a hand to your cheek, cradling your face in it as she appraised you with a lopsided smirk “I think I’ll keep you”

You laughed through the breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding as you swatted her hand away “there’s one in there for Javadi too if she wants it. Tell her I said thank you again when you see her”

“You got it kid” she winked at you as she took a deep sip of her drink, heading back out towards the door “I’ll go find Robby and let him know you’re here”

“Oh no you don’t have to” again you were stuck trying to persuade people not to bother Robby during his shift.

And again you were being completely ignored for it “nah kid you’re not slipping away from this one”

“Please I don’t want to be a bother I really just came by to drop off some food”

“Think of it as helping me out then” she countered, resting one hip on the door as she spoke “I don’t want to have to deal with a grumpy Dr.Robby if he knew you’d been here and I hadn’t told him”

You deflated slightly at the argument, knowing you weren’t going to win this one, desperately trying not to put too much weight into her words “Yeah okay I’ll be here”

“That’s the spirit” she chuckled back at you as she pushed the door open and disappeared through it.

You were alone for barely two minutes before the door to the room was harshly pushed open and a familiar looking doctor was storming in.

“Hey what’s wrong are you okay?” Robby flew into the room in a rush, barely giving you time to breathe before he was reaching for your arm and bringing the injury up to his eyes to examine it “was it the cut? Did something happen?”

You were laughing before you could think to form proper words, pulling your arm from the man’s grasp without a second thought “Robby you literally took the stitches out for me last night what could’ve possibly happened in the hours it’s been since then”

“A lot for the record” he glared at you, despite everything the corners of his mouth perking up slightly in amusement “but you know it’s not usually healthy people who come into the Pitt”

“I just wanted to bring you guys some food” you forced some extra exasperation into your tone in hopes of hearing him chuckle as you gestured to the half un-packed bags on the table “It was just supposed to be a quick thank you I didn’t mean to bother-“

You cut yourself off at his look, could see the way he was gearing himself up to tell you once again that you weren’t a bother for coming to see him in the ER, something you felt you could push back on since the circumstances surrounding this trip to the Pitt were drastically different than the ones before.

But hoping to spare yourself the lecture you’ve already received you simply corrected yourself “-interrupt. I didn’t mean to interrupt your busy schedule”

The smirk on his face at your correction was much too smug for your liking but you let him have it anyways, a part of you always happy to let him revel in anything that had him smiling.

Reaching into the bag closest to you, you dug amongst the boxes for a brief moment before finding the one you were looking for, pulling it out and pushing it into his hands with a soft “here”

He looked down at the meal appreciatively, raising a single eyebrow at you in silent question.

“Remember that recipe I told you the other day I was working on? I think I’ve got it nailed down so I wanted to have you try it” you desperately tried to downplay the importance of it, the intimacy of Robby being the first person other than yourself to try a new recipe of yours, silently praying he wouldn’t pick up on how much his opinion of it meant to you.

“Ahhh so you needed guinea pigs”

You snorted at his response, relief surging through you at the joke “Guinea pig singular. Rest of the crew gets regular menu items. I wasn’t going to subject them to untested material”

He grinned at you in response as a soft huff escaped him “just me then that gets the risk of inedible food”

“Perks of being my favorite doctor” the words slipped out of you before you could think twice, a brief panic at being too forward surging through you before you leaned into a joke to deflect the sincerity “don’t tell Dana I said that though”

He chuckled at that with a soft shake of his head, the pink tint coloring his cheeks telling you the deflection didn’t land completely “she’s a nurse so you can argue the semantics of the epithet if need be”

“Good I’m not sure if I’m terrified of her or in love with her”

“Yeah she has that effect on people”

A silence fell over the two of you at that that for the first time with him it felt tense, but thankfully not uncomfortable, neither of you doing anything more than staring at one another before you acknowledged that one of you needed to break it. You nodded to the door behind him “I should head out, gotta start my prep here soon, but you’ll let me know what you think of that yeah?”

“Yeah” he nodded in the affirmative, a soft and dare you say found smile on his lips as he moved out of your way from the door “I take me duty as guinea pig very seriously”

“good it’s always such a hassle to find a new one” you found yourself lingering in the doorway, hesitant to leave just yet “oh and there’s a mocha in the bag for Javadi if she wants it as a thank you for stitching me up”

“You’re going to spoil my staff with all this specialty coffee” despite the comment you could see the appreciation in his eye, the complete lack of heat behind the jab.

You shrugged nonchalantly “gotta win them over, maybe one day I’ll graduate from blue tumbler girl to just coffee girl”

He laughed back at that, his head ducking slightly as he did so, crossing his arms over his chest in the process.

You took a brief second to relish the sound, giving him one last look before nodding and pushing the door open with your hip, resigning yourself with going back to work when your name being called halted you in your tracks, your gaze snapping back into the break room to meet his “Thank you. For the food I mean”

You couldn’t have bit back the grin on your face if you had tried “Anytime Michael”

-

“Whoa what’s all this? You order us food Robby?” Langdon asked, never once questioning if the food was even meant for him, hands already digging into the bag to pull out a box, handing it to Perlah on his left without a thought.

“No I didn’t Y/N my uh-“ he faltered suddenly, the words dying on his lips as he struggled for what to classify you as “Y/N brought it in for us, a thank you for stitching her up”

His tone had the two freezing before him, devious smirks passed wordless between them already making Robby roll his eyes before any words could be said, Perlah piping in eagerly with news “Front desk said blue tumbler brought in bags from Jianna’s”

“So blue tumbler’s name is Y/N” Langdon smirked at Robby who was doing his best to tamp down his exasperation, knowing it would only spur them on further.

“I still don’t understand why the blue tumbler was that big of a deal” still the annoyance dripped from his words as he muttered them

“Robby you came into work smiling”

“Humming even” Perlah pipped in, eyes already back on the bag of food as she dug through it.

“Humming” Langdon repeated with wide eyes and a wicked grin.

“Thought Abbot was going to have a stroke trying to process what he was seeing”

“And holding a coffee tumbler that was definitely not your own in a death grip” Langdon was looking much too smug for his liking at the observation.

With a deep sigh Robby rubbed tired hands deep into his eyes “I spend way too much time with you people”

“Dana said the coffee you had in there was good shit too. Way better than the stuff you normally drink” Perlah steamrolled ahead as if he had never spoken, finally choosing one of the take-out boxes and extracting it from the bag.

“Dana’s been drinking from a new green tumbler here lately” Langdon pointed out “plus she walked out of here with a cup that looked an awful lot like this one” he said as he extracted a to-go cup from the bag he had been looking in.

Robby almost regretted having to speak up about it now, knowing it was exactly what they were fishing for, running an anxious hand through the hair at the back of his neck as he did so “don’t, that’s a mocha for Javadi”

“How come Dana and Javadi get coffee from blue tumbler lady” Langdon pitched his voice to sound almost petulant, completely ignoring the glare Robby sent his way.

“She’s not supplying the whole floor with coffee”

“Would you look at that he’s already possessive over her” Langdon was downright giddy at Robby’s reaction, eyes cutting down to meet Perlah’s “think Abbot’s heard about that yet”

Robby groaned dramatically and swiped his box off the table as he made his way out the door before the other two could say anything further, muttering under his breath as he left the breakroom “why is he everyone’s go to”

Part 4