#its the bisexual lighting for me. its like they know | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

textmel8r · 4 months ago

Text

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( tenth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , profanity , prostitution , drug and alcohol abuse , smut , allusions to hypersexuality , bisexual! toji

୨୧˚ an; okay there is seriously something wrong with my ability to tag people, certain blog names don’t come up when i search them it’s pissing me offfff SO SORRY if you’re on the tag list and you didn’t get tagged😣

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

Thunderous bangs against his apartment’s front door rouse Toji from comatose. He wakes with a sharp inhale, eyes screwing shut because the sunlight that flooded through the bars of his dusty blinds singed his retinas. There’s a beat of silence, one that makes Toji believe his guest has walked off, and he cuddles back into the sofa with solid intentions of returning to dream state, however those plans go up in flames when more aggressive knocking chimes. The man groans, fingers clawing into the scrappy throw pillow his face is currently buried into.

“Fuck off!” Toji growls. His voice is muffled and crackling with excess exhaustion. He is so not in the mood for company right now.

“Fushiguro cut the shit, I’m not playing with you today.” Ugh, that voice. “Open the damn door, don’t make me bust it down.”

More pounding, and the rusty hinges creak from the pressure of it. Given no other choice, Toji peels himself off his crappy little couch and sits for a moment, dragging a heavy hand down his face. There’s a half empty can of Coke perched on the coffee table, amongst a plethora of other trash, and Toji snags it. It’s lost carbonation, totally flat and lukewarm, but it satiates his thirst good enough.

The knob twists, clinking against the lock impatiently. “Untwist your panties, I’m comin’,” He barks before muttering Jesus Christ under breath. It’s no surprise to see Shiu Kong when he draws open his door, standing erect with his arms crossed in irritation. Toji scowls, “what do you want?”

Shiu knocks shoulders to his when he grants himself entrance, much to Toji’s chagrin. “So you are alive?”

“Still kickin’, yeah.”

Shiu stands in the middle of the living room, flitting over the unkempt scene. It’s a mess, littered with crushed cans and hollowed take-out boxes and dirty laundry. Heavy glass bottles lined the floor near the sofa, some filled halfway with translucent, amberish liquid, some bone dry. “I see you been busy,” the man inquired, sarcastic as all Hell.

Toji sighs. “Yep.”

“You should crack a window or something, man. It reeks like the inside of a flask in here.”

“I’ll do that,” no he won’t, “what do you want?”

Shiu scoffs at his gall, but Toji wants him out of his place as soon as possible. He knows why his handler has come to visit, it’s most likely a work thing. Fuck work. Fuck Shiu for barging in and interrupting his afternoon nap. Fuck his apartment for being embarrassingly filthy.

“You’ve been ducking my calls. I don’t appreciate that.”

“Y’know, most people would take that as a sign to fuck off.”

“I’m not most people, though, am I?” He takes a seat on the couch. Toji doesn’t follow suit, choosing to stay leaned against the wall. “I’m technically your superior.”

“You think that title means jack to me?”

Shiu ignores the attitude; he’s used to taking shit from Toji for the better part of a decade now. “It should.” Silence cuts in, and he leans down to pluck one of the thick bottles off the floor by its neck. Liquor sloshes around in the constraint of glass, and Shiu holds it up to the light and skims the label. “This is cheap shit.”

Yeah, it was stupid cheap. Toji swiped it off the clearance rack at the gas station around the corner from his complex. They started tagging the alcohol, made it more difficult to steal, so he exclusively bought the least expensive liquor he could find. “Don’t gotta be smooth. Don’t gotta be much of anything, s’long as it fucks me up.” He didn’t drink rum on a Thursday at 3:42 pm for the taste.

Shiu hums, looking oddly unnerved. Still holding the bottle, he jerks it up in a slight gesture. “What’s the occasion?” Followed by an awkward chuckle. Toji itches the base of his scalp, pushing down his bed hair.

“Dunno.”

He was just sort of… regressing. Backsliding into the open arms of his beloved vices. Day drinking again, sloshing himself into liquor-induced unconsciousness that puts him to sleep for days. He starts hitting the casinos more frequently, tapping into poker games and betting away money he doesn’t have because the adrenaline of it all is orgasmic. Drugs have weaved themselves back into Toji’s routine as well; he’s been snorting the pricey shit that gets him numb in the face and leaves that nasty taste dripping in the back of his throat. Shit he hasn’t fucked with since his wife’s death.

Well, he supposes he’s always been like this. Clinging onto some sort of substance to distract himself from the pain of being alive in a Zenin’s body, no matter how damaging or problematic it may be. His childhood looms over him, even as a grown man, and it’s so terribly pathetic to still be hung up on shit that happened over two decades ago. But he apologetically is. Toji is a pathetic, woeful piece of shit who is forever haunted by memories.

Distractions. They weren’t always mutilating. Not all of them tore apart his body and soul. Sometimes, they were beautiful.

His tongue twitches in his mouth, aching to curl around a cigarette.

Shiu huffs, setting the bottle back down near his feet. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Toji nods curtly, licking at his dry lips. “I’m straight.”

“Right,” his handler responds slowly, entirely unconvinced. “You’ve been skimping out on your assignments. It’s fucking me over, Fushiguro.”

Toji hasn’t taken up a job in nearly three months. Not since the night he left your place and walked home in the pouring rain. It was funny—he hadn’t thought it was a bluff when you threatened to call the police. No, Toji expected his apartment complex to be swarmed with officers when he returned but… nothing besides crickets. That night was seared into his frontal lobe, every motion engraved and vivid behind his eyes. Still soaked to the bone, he melted into the couch and stared up at his water-damaged ceiling for hours before slumber pulled him into its embrace.

Toji hasn’t slept in his bed since.

“Oh, so that’s why you came to visit. Boss is cuttin’ your pay with me gone.” Toji smiles bitterly, then juts his lower lip out in a mock pout. “Aww, that must be so hard for you, I’m sorry. You can cry about it on the ride home in your fucking Bentley.”

“Hey asshole, this isn’t just a me thing. Your slacking affects both our paychecks.” Shiu rakes a hand through his gelled do, and Toji is acutely aware of the luxury watch glinting on his wrist. “I mean, shit, where have you even been getting your cash from lately? How have you been keepin’ the lights on in this shithole?”

That last question is a mystery to Toji, as well. Truth is, he hasn’t put a penny towards rent since he came back. Eviction was inevitable, he’d ride out the days he had left and then figure out what to do when he received his week’s notice. Only that pink slip of paper never appeared taped to his door. Surely, you weren’t still covering it… Not with the way you and him ended terms so roughly… But what the fuck else could it be? Toji wanted to ask you about it; wanted to use this entire situation as an excuse to contact you, but he couldn’t muster up the courage and resolve. Talking to you again sounded so fucking sweet, but so, so fucking painful.

Toji didn’t answer, and Shiu grimaced at his quietness. On the couch, Shiu shifted uncomfortably, leaning forward to rest his elbows over his thighs. “You’re not,” he struggles for a moment to find the words, squinted eyes drilling holes into Toji’s. “Tell me you ain’t whoring again.”

Sex was Toji’s grimiest form of escapism. He started fucking other people again.

Mostly women, with a few men sprinkled in between. Gender was irrelevant; genitalia didn’t matter much to him in the grand scheme of things, Toji only fucked casually for the sensation of a warm body to hold onto. Vying for satisfaction with a partner, competing for release; it became a damn near nightly procedure at this point. Scouring bars in the dark hours for any willing participant, then fucking one out in the filth of the public restroom. His sweaty back against the stall, or him seated on the lid of a toilet. It was gross, he was gross.

Again, Toji is silent, and it speaks volumes. “God, man.” Shiu holds his face, pinching his brow bone, maneuvering the muscles in his jaw. He doesn’t sound angry or annoyed, just disappointed, and it makes Toji feel unnaturally immature; like he were a child again, getting a scolding from the family’s housekeeper for accidentally knocking the vase at the center of his dining table over and shattering it on the ground. “That’s—you can’t be doing this again.”

“Yeah well I don’t exactly got the resume for a nine to five, now do I?” He was forever tainted by his past. No employer in the country would hire a man with four jail sentences, drug misdemeanors, battery charges, no education, no work experience… the list of Toji’s fuck ups could fill a dictionary front to back.

“You cannot go back to that.” Shiu looks pale in the face. I’m making him sick to his stomach.

“Money is money. Don’t hear you whining when you got me playing assassin for you, but God forbid I suck a coupla’ cocks for cash.” Toji pushes off the wall and stalks towards the tiny kitchenette on the far side of this cramped living space; this conversation is irritating him, he needs something to quell his cotton mouth. “Fix your morals, then we can talk.”

Shiu’s argument was mind numbingly idiotic. Comparing slaughter to sex for money, the absurdity nearly made Toji burst out laughing. Sex never killed anyone.

He’s rooting around in the fridge. It’s practically bare, housing nothing more than a few take out boxes and some lager, but that’s alright. Toji tears a can of beer from the plastic six-pack ring, and when he pops out from the refrigerator, Shiu stands there with his hip against the small counter. “You’re self-destructing.”

The can cracks open. Beer carbonation pops and hisses. “Am I?” Toji sniggers, tossing back a swig. Shiu’s eyes flit to the beverage, nose wrinkling. Toji catches on and nods to the kitchen sink. It’s full of dirty dishes. “Faucet’s fucked. Water’s full of lead. This is the only drink in the house and I’m thirsty, so hop off.”

“You’re self-destructing,” Shiu repeats once more, not matching Toji’s humorous lilt. “I’m serious, Fushiguro. You’re off.”

“What do you want me to say to that besides fuck you?”

It grows quiet again. The air is warm and thick and rife with apprehension; it presses on Toji’s chest like a sleeping cat. “So what?” Finally, Shiu speaks. “That’s it?”

He shakes his head contentedly. “That’s it.”

“You understand this is going to be Hell for me from now on. You’re the best hired gun on my roster, the boss is gonna have my ass if you quit.”

Toji takes a long sip of beer. “You’re tough. You can handle it.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Shiu breathes, but there’s no real malice behind his words. “If you’re really serious about quitting, then fine. Fucking fine, I’ll—” He groans, massaging his temple, “I’ll handle it. But I’m telling you, this is the best it gets for guys like us.”

The best it gets is killing men. Leaving wives widowed, leaving kids fatherless. “Can’t be.” Toji feels nauseous at the thought. “There’s gotta be more.” There has to be. It’s the only affirmation that stops him from knocking back the whole bottle of vicodin in his bathroom medicine cabinet and calling it a night.

“This is how the world works. This is us being punished for being shitty people.”

Toji doesn’t have anything to say to that. He refuses to acknowledge it.

Shiu rubs at his nape, pushing off the counter. “Look, I only dropped by to get on your ass for playing hooky, wasn’t exactly expecting… all of this. But, uh,” despite their expansive acquaintanceship with one another, they never really got a hang of the whole sentimental bit. Shiu tries for a moment, mouth opening and closing a few times as the words die on his tongue, before finally settling on a long exhale through the nostrils. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks, squaring his shoulders. “Just stay safe, would ya?”

Toji salutes lazily. “Aye aye.”

Shiu ducks his head in a wide nod. “Good, good. And uh, you got my number. So use it if you need to.”

Toji can tell that Shiu is trying to dole out formalities in the most unconventional way possible, so he helps him out by chuckling. “Get the fuck outta my house already.” Then, he drains the last few ounces from his can before crushing the aluminum in his fist, tossing the litter carelessly to the floor. He’ll get it later. Or not. Probably not.

“Yeah, okay.”

The hotel room is pitch black, not even the moonlight reaches through the window. Toji stumbles through the door first, dragging another person in by the waist. He kicks it shut with the heel of his boot. A woman—mid 20’s, pretty, about two heads shorter than Toji so he’s forced to crane his neck uncomfortably low when they kiss. Some random he found off an anonymous hookup app he downloaded, a consenting body three miles away for him to use. They coordinated a time and place—midnight at this shitty motel—which brings us to the present.

“Wait—” She struggles to speak in between wet kisses, patting Toji's bicep. “Wh—get the lights.”

He shakes his head. “Leave them off.”

Humidity stickied the air, clinging to his skin alongside sweat. He was coming down from something—some upper he popped hours prior to this—and because of that, a thin tremble rattled in his bones gliding through marrow. It’s so hot. He’s hot everywhere. It almost hurts, the heat.

She doesn’t put up much of an argument and takes his bruteness like a champ. Let’s him hoist her up and jerk her onto the stiff motel mattress, its blankets coughing a plume of dust into the atmosphere when their weights fell upon it. The scratchy comforter reeked of mildew and clawed back at the jagged callouses sitting in the divots of Toji’s weathered fingers when he grabbed handfuls of bedding.

He finds himself drafting comparisons in the moment, as he often did. Comparing his present to a better time; when he wasn’t slutting himself out to strangers for a fix of warmth or money, in this case the former. Your bed—God, no not tonight, he shouldn’t be devoting another night to you—smelled of a sweet concoction; your perfume, your laundry detergent, your shampoo, just you. There was no catching or pulling at his marred hands when he clawed at your bedsheets, no, the satin was gentle on his most rough parts.

“How do you want me?”

Toji blinked in succession, snapping back to cold reality. It was easy to lose himself in his delusions, muddying the lines between his dreamscape and actuality. Maybe the liquor finally seeped into his brain and this was neurosis’s way of knocking at the door. What a hilarious thing to think about. Toji slips a hand beneath her back and maneuvers the smaller body himself.

“Hands and knees.” He doesn’t want to look at her face.

Neither of them had even bothered to undress—this truly lacked all semblance of intimacy. Hands reach behind herself to inch suffocating denim down past the shelf of her ass, Toji thumbs down his own waistband just past the half-mast erection he sported. Everything felt robotic, it was a wonder he could even get hard in such a lifeless domain.

“You brought a con—”

“Yes,” he responds pointedly, eager for the talking to cease. He didn’t care to hear the whispers of a strange woman asking about whether or not he had protection on him. Of course, he had one. It goes quiet again. In the dark, dank air Toji kneels behind a wet, willing hole and yet all he can think of is you when he stroked himself to total hardness.

“Are you kidding me?” You gawked at him, disbelief evident in the obtuse look you gave him. He was splayed out on your kitchen tiles, ducked back beneath the sink, working at the drain pipe with a rubber-gripped wrench. His ass ached from sitting on hard floors for too long, back groaned under the pressure of being bent backwards, neck stiff and knotted thanks to the awkward tilt he was forced to wear, but seeing the awe scribbled on your face made the pain dull. “I had two handymen take a look, neither of them could find the issue. But you just knew exactly what to do.”

He had to laugh at the ridiculousness. “You’ve just got yourself a fucked supply line. Ain’t rocket science, I’ll get you right.” Toji slips out from the cupboard, looking up from the floor through pin straight bangs. Scratching a brow with his thumb nail, “you hired a couple of idiots.”

You retort in a groan, unable to thrum up a defense. “I’m the real idiot, I suppose. You think they were just trying to scam me or what?”

“Probably.” Back under the sink he goes, wedging the wrench around the circumference of the pipe. Toji’s forearm tenses with each crank of the tool, and he doesn’t stop until the bolt is fastened as tight as his strength can manage. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here.”

Though he can’t see your face at the moment, Toji hears your sheepish smile wrapping around each word. “My hero.” The sarcasm was eminent, tongue-in-cheek and you nudged his foot with your own. He kicks you back, heel to your bony ankle. “Hey!” You’re laughing now.

“Don’t get smart.” The drain pipe is secure, and he’s satisfied with his labor. Toji pulls himself to his feet, flicking the stainless steel lever on the sink’s tap with a knuckle. Crystal clear water flows out evenly from the faucet, collecting in a puddle at the basin, swirling down the drain. “Watch, look,” Toji points with his toe to the pipe under the cabinet, and he can’t quell the lofty smirk that tugs at scarred lips when there is no leakage. A successful repair; you look astonished for lack of a better word, and it gives the man a strange swell of pride hanging in his belly.

He did that. He was useful to you in a way he hadn’t been useful to anyone in a long while. He didn’t have to kill, didn’t have to fuck; fixing a leaky kitchen sink seemed beyond good enough for you. Foolish.

“I’m impressed.” You turn to him. “Thank you, Toji.”

You blathered on some more, speaking such things of how generous you planned on being in return. Something about money in exchange for the service, but Toji wasn’t really listening past your declaration of gratitude. It was just straightforward plumbing work of the most basic level, and yet you thanked him like he hung the stars in the sky.

“Sure. It was no problem.” And he smiled back.

That did it. He’s stiff, cock cradled in his fist with nothing less than a bruising grip. The condom was pre-lubricated and slick with odorless oil. Toji went through the practiced motions—hooking the ringed entrance over himself, pinching the tip of the condom, rolling it down to sheath every inch.

“Oh,” she gasped, lurching forward at the feeling of Toji’s head sliding up and down between her legs. Between her folds. She’s wet for him. Hips whined back into his groin with avidity. “Put it in.”

He slaps her with an open palm, connecting with an asscheek. She moans again and reaches back to paw at Toji’s navel with blunt nails. Free from any of that fancy acrylic stuff.

This time around was torturously similar to every other fuck he’s had in recent date. Everything is fast-paced and unforgiving, leaving not much room for anything else. Toji fucks to forget. He fucks to remember, too.

“Y/n,” he groans shamelessly. There’s a muffled reply, but it’s murky and muffled and unable to be understood because Toji had taken the humble liberty of holding his conquest’s face into the flat, fluffless pillow. He doesn’t care for a response, to be corrected or called a piece of shit for being so inconsiderate as to not remember her name. It was Mandy, he wants to say. Maybe Maddy? Who gives a fuck.

“That’s rude, you know.”

Toji pouts theatrically, forcing his bottom lip out in a way that has you playfully rolling your eyes. In his hand, a bundled ball of blanket that he’d stolen from you and hoarded to his side of the sofa. “Aww, I’m sorry.”

You sigh, throwing him a scathing glance. “No, you’re not.”

Movie night, or so you said. Sitting in the lonesome of your quiet penthouse just the two of you, watching some new finance documentary that just dropped on Netflix. It sounded absurdly boring to Toji, but you’d been keen on hyping it up all week long, offering him an invitation to view it together. Really, Toji couldn’t give a shit about a bunch of old guys talking crypto-bullshit for two hours straight—but it’s not like that’s what was really going to happen anyway. Toji had convinced himself this was all a ploy to snake your way into his pants at last. Naturally, he accepted your invitation.

“Just gonna have to sit closer then,” Toji posed gruffly, eyeing down the gap between your bodies on the couch. Sitting at opposite ends like a couple of children who still believed cooties was a prevalent issue. He nods toward you,“come on.”

“You’re terrible.” Despite that, you scoot closer, invading his bubble of personal space and snatching your half of the blanket back. Focused on the Netflix explore page, tongue poked out between two rows of teeth as you enter the title of the documentary into the search bar, you miss the way Toji observes you. Watching. Waiting.

And waiting.

For what? Who knows. Maybe Toji prepares himself for the inevitable moment when you slip a hand beneath the blanket and drift over to his thigh. Ready for that familiar squeeze at his crotch, the same tango so many other curious hands have danced in the past. But he’d let you proceed without any qualms. He’d encourage you.

“You’re bored, huh?” You chuckled halfheartedly midway through the film, pressing pause. Bored didn’t even begin to describe his pure disinterest.

Toji shrugs. “Maybe.” His arm rests on the back ledge of the couch, not quite around you, but so close that it might as well be. He shifts, touches his right thigh to your left one, and tilts his chin down. “Listening to a bunch of rich fucks whine about the stock market doesn’t exactly captivate me.”

Frowning, “that’s only surface level. The audience is supposed to infer—” Fake snoring cuts you off. Toji rolls his eyes shut, hanging his jaw to fake the most obnoxious slumber. His head lolls onto your shoulder. You don’t shy away from the physical contact. “You’re not funny.” He begs to differ, what with the way nasally snorts crack from your sinuses. The shoulder he presses his cheek to stutters with stifled dissipation.

“Stop movin’.” Toji nuzzles closer, facetiously dumping body weight against you if not for anything other than to hear the struggle squeeze at your throat when you wrestle to keep upright. “I’m comfy like this.”

“You’re never this affectionate.”

He’s not usually. But Toji’s hellbent on his premonitions. You want him. Everyone wants him. It’s been months of banter, months of getting spoiled by financial stability. You give him everything. You take nothing. His nose caresses the junction where shoulder and neck meet. Why won’t you just let him fucking give you something? You swallow hard. “Toji.”

“I constantly feel like I owe you. Like I got dues to pay.”

“Do I… make you feel that way?”

“All the fucking time.” It swelters beneath the blanket you share, and sweat starts to collect at the creases behind Toji’s knees. Bathing in the shared body heat, letting the convection hug his hips. He sighs, backtracking. “I know you got good intentions, ‘s what you keep telling me. And I like it, the way you reassure me. It’s… reassuring.” He titters into your neck, blinking slowly.

“Then why do you keep doing this?” A ginger hand graces the rear of his skull, not forcing him closer, but not tugging him away either. It just sits there, scritching as calm as your voice.

“Don’t know.”

This wasn’t the first time Toji succumbed to that shrill, little whisper in his head, the one that told him to spontaneously initiate closeness. It feels like common knowledge by now; to reciprocate in kind to any form of benevolence like a trained dog, because that was the expectation of him. To get on his knees and worship until bruises hammered into his joints and the hinges of his jaw grew sore from overuse. This transaction is familiar. It brings him a twisted sense of comfort, and you ripped it away. For better or for worse, Toji had yet to conclude.

“It’s like muscle memory.” That was the best way to describe it. Toji ached to give you the pleasure that felt long overdue in this affair. To offer some sort of repayment in the only way he knew how. Lips ghost over porcelain flesh—he’s never been so tempted in his life. Sex had always been the most exhausting and emotionally depleting aspect when he dealt with these kinds of unconventional financial relationships, but now as he unfurls his candied tongue and laves a stretch from collar to jawline, Toji has never wanted to be inside of someone more. Deft fingers were quick to pull him back by the scruff.

You studied Toji with unreadable eyes. He stares back, wiping excess saliva from his fatty lower lip with a thumb.

“I don’t want this for us,” you speak up finally, meandering eyes roaming around his facial features. You look at his lips, then his nose, then between his eyes. “Are you listening? I’ll write it on my fucking forehead if that’s what it takes for you to understand.”

“What if I want it?” Toji breathes.

You’re shaking your head. “You don’t.”

Who the fuck are you to decide what he does or doesn’t want? And how fucking dare you be right about it. Because in all this build up—the panting, the heat, the licking—Toji hadn’t so much as twitched down there. It’s like his mind and body were completely detached, separate entities trying to cohesively navigate through an avalanche of generational trauma. Trying and failing miserably. He palms himself to confirm his limp appendage.

“Fuck.” A bucket of ice water dumped over his head, washing away the illusion of lust and leaving behind reality in its wake. What the fuck am I doing? “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Toji doesn’t really understand what you’re apologizing for. You’ve got no need to feel sorry when he was the one who threw himself at you so abruptly. But he doesn’t ask, either. It felt eerily nice to be on the receiving end of an ‘I’m sorry.’

You still hold his nape. The film is long forgotten at this point, set on the backburner, and dimmed with the Are you still watching? notification blanketing the screen.

“Your movie.” Toji cocks his head, beckoning towards the gigantic television pinned to the wall all without tearing his eyes from yours. “Press play.”

This has the beginnings of a coy smirk straining your lips. “I thought it was boring you?”

He shrugs. “It’s not so bad.”

And so you resumed the documentary, if not for anything other than to dissolve the serious tension that palpated in the air. You didn’t force Toji to explain himself, you didn’t hound him for answers about his hypersexuality. You didn’t distance yourself, you didn’t act appalled when his thigh brushed yours again. You didn’t pity him, you didn’t treat him like a child. But you did stroke his neck. You continued to laugh with him. You let him fall asleep on you that night and didn’t wake him ‘till morning.

You let him trust.

His orgasm doesn’t have any anticipation. It crashes down on him all at once, splitting down the notches of his spine and sending bouts of electricity zapping down to his curled toes, still encased in thick, mud soaked boots. She cries below, contorting in the direction of the pleasure, but Toji holds her down while he fills the rubber.

It’s unsatisfying.

“Oh my fuck—” The woman pants on her come down, trembling around him. She clearly enjoyed herself, giggling stupidly into the pillow now sopping with drool and tears. Toji pulls out with little grace, sneering at the viscous mess of bodily fluids slicking up his navel. Proficient fingers work the sticky condom off, tying the end in a balloon knot.

It’s gross.

He folds, dropping onto the bed beside her. Sweat glues bangs to his forehead. His chest rises, then falls, then rises again with exertion. Sleep threatens to rear itself, weighing down his eyelids.

It’s tiring.

The body beside him stirs, rolling on her side. “How was it?”

“Good,” he lies through his teeth for the sake of sparing feelings. She smiles, feeling over his chest.

“It was good for me, too,” she tells him like he asked. “Really good. Oh, also my name’s Maria by the way, not Y/n.” Maria chuckles like it was just a silly mix up.

She drags him into mindless, post-sex banter. Rambling on about workplace drama, about her two pet cats and about her shity landlord. Mindless rattling that falls on Toji’s deaf ears; he’s disassociated, lying face-up on the terribly hard bed, fixated on the grime weighing down his lap. When an opening arises, Toji hauls himself up and claims the shower.

An intense wave of queasiness materializes in the centerpoint of Toji’s stomach when he closes himself in behind the bathroom door. The aftermath always felt this awful—bitter and lonely and degrading. Toji takes a moment to just be, perching on the lid of the toilet with his head in his hands, swallowing down sickness lest he subject Maria to a concert of his disgusting gags if he retches into the bowl.

When Toji stands to fiddle with the shower handle, he becomes hyper aware of the weight in his sweatpants. There’s an awkward sag in the fabric, bunching around the object that sits heavy in his front pocket. His cellphone—he never bothered to remove it. Giving a sniffle to the air, Toji fishes out the device and taps the screen with little interest.

Oh.

He looks away. Looks at the sink, then the wall, then the glass door of the shower cubicle. Then back at his screen. Back at the very real notification that sits there idly, begging to be clicked.

Toji’s heart races at a perilous speed, something lethal for an old man like himself. He can feel the beat rumble his insides, blending everything up like a bloody smoothie.

Yielding, he clicks.

likes and reblogs are appreciated !

tags . • @4imhry @sugurubabe @mastermasterlist1p1 @mikisspeak @fluttershyfangs @iluv-ace @xstom @bratbby333 @mizzfizz @sserafin @wo-ming-bai @maexc @r0semultiverse @r0ckst4rjk @aesukuni @taelattecookie @purple-obsidian @hqtoge @khaothick @saintkaylaa @ya9amicide @crayzyaarna @saiki-enthusiast @haesify @nyamocka @sixxze @lifesucksweswallow @darkstarlight82 @megumisdivinedogs @celestialol @yunho-leeknow @ghostfacefricker6969 @aizawa19 @lupicalbestwolf @nymphsdomain @makuzume @killerkinnie @haesify @svnkenlily @bimbobunnii @ssc7514 @megumisfoot @swoozleee

1K notes · View notes

vigil-antes · 3 months ago

Note

Do you like have any good comics recommendations or anything to do with the bat fam, I don't have many DC friends so idk where to start

hiii omg ive been WAITING for this. you didnt give me any kind of parameters for what kind of fics you want so im going to list some of those i like most. its going to be a long one so buckle up:

My DC Fic Best Pics:

Short & Sweet (Oneshots/Less than 10k words)

Send to All: Crack, the bats have a sex pollen release form

glucose guardian: Funny, Tim being the caped community's accidental sugar daddy

A Brief Interview: Sweet, Damian & Tim Ageswap

curiosity and the cat: Cute, Timbern Catlad AU

Dead Meme: Crack, Jason centric, Jason keeps referencing dead memes

Have I Told You About Minnie?: Sweet, Bruce&Steph

Multi Media Marketing Mistakes: Crack, Social Media AU

an inappropriate explosion: Funny, Superman calls Batman to reel in his unruly son (Red Hood)

though your eyes will need some time to adjust: so sweet GAH, Bruce&Steph

Girl what were YOU doing at the devil's sacrament?: Funny, Timbern after the disaster with the chaos cult

Tim Drake: Bisexual Awakener Extraordinaire: Funny, YJ experiencing the mandated Robin-Induced sexuality crisis

Brotherhood: Tim&Damian, Damian Time travels right into Jason's attack on Titans Tower

Priceless: Crack, Nightwing&The Bats messing with Bane

User SuperRob: TImBerKon. Need I say more?

The Mystery of the Superboy Shirts: TimKon, Tim keeps stealing Kon's SB Shirts

Thicker Than Water: Funny, Batbros slice of life-ish

Big Bird, Commence Attack!: Crack, Jason's revenge plan involves dressing up as Big Bird

World’s Saddest Breakfast Club: Sweet, Batkids Bonding

red chrome: Funny, Tim's health is concerning enough to stop Jason from attacking him in Titans Tower

Hot Dog, French Fries: Tim&Damian, Damian gets dosed with truth serum

#SoftRobin: Funny. Damian-centric Social Media AU

Hurry Up Don't Take So Long: Sweet, DamiJon through the years

Paris vs Gotham: Crack, Social Media AU Ladybug crossover (no ships)

Can I tempt you?: TimKon, Light angst, Sweet

Bedtime Stories (15-50k Words)

Baby Birds and Bat Caves: SO funny, genuinely one of the best fics ive read, Tim-Centric, Meta(?)/Cryptid Tim, inspired by Welcome to Nightvale

Gotham Knockoff: Tim-Centric, Alley Kid Tim pretends to be the Drakes' kid to get closer to the Bats

In This or Any Other Universe: Nightwing ends up in the The Batman (2022) Universe

Dangerous and Noble Things: Kid Tim gets kidnapped by the League of Shadows. No one realizes until, four years later, the Bats notices something wrong

In this Town We Call Home: Kid Tim attracts Batman's attention to get adopted

With Violet Light: Jason finds a ring of power and becomes a Star Sapphire

Little Birds’ Wings: Jason&Other Batkids, Jason comes back from the League to a drastically different Gotham

the pact of our youth: Reverse Robins Au, TimBerKon after Tim dies (and comes back different)

Pretty Boys and Identity Problems: Sweet, TimKon, To get away from his crush on Robin, Superboy gets entangled with Gotham pretty boy Tim Drake

let's get mischievous: TimBern, during the chaos cult ritual, Bernard gets possessed by Dyonisus

It Wouldn't Be Make Believe (If You Believed In Me): DamiJon fake dating AU where they don't know each other and meet while Robin is investigating a case in Metropolis (they're uni aged btw)

I’m Pretty Sure Tim Steals Clothes: An Elaboration In The Form Of A Long Fic: Cute, TimKon, Tim keeps stealing Kon's SB shirts

Into the Deep Dark Night: Tim-centric, Tim&Jason, Tim dies as a kid and loses a bit of his humanity

Alcatraz, But On Hardmode: Sweet, Tim-Centric, A YJ mission goes wrong and Tim has to rely on Jason to get him and his team out.

His Head is Bloody, but Unbowed: Jason-centric AU where he never stole the batmobile tires, but ends up meeting the Bats anyways after he saves Robin

A Good Place: Very soft, Damian&Bruce, Damian time travels to Batman's first year of activity.

Fairy Godbrother: Sweet, The batboys time travel to each others' pasts and help their brothers when they were younger

best laid plans: Tim&Jason, Tim finds Jason after he crawls out of his grave, bt they get goth taken by the league

Mystery Man: Cute, BirdFlash, The bats aren't known to the JL, Different first meeting

One Eternal Round: Super original, Bruce&Robins, My Hero Academia crossover where Aizawa, Midoriya, Kirishima, Todoroki and Bakugo remember their past lives as Gotham vigilantes

A Meditation on Railroading: Tim-Centric, Tim's dad leaves him stranded away from Gotham with no way back. Jason finds him and brings him home

the ship of theseus: Jason-Centric, Percy Jackson crossover, Jason and Percy are secretly twins

Why They Shouldn't Have Social Media: Crack, Social media AU

Cracked Foundation:Soft, Jason&Damian, They get stuck under a collapsed building together

Monolith: Bruce&The Batfamily, The birds aren't known to the JL, The JL meeting each member of the Batfam for the first time

Loading and Aspect Ratio: SO GOOOOOOD, Batfamily, The bats use wing prothesis but everyone think they're metas

Three’s a Crowd (But I’m Here if You Are): Cute, Funny, TimBerKon

A Softer Gotham: Steph&Bruce, Steph-Centric, Steph time travels to a time before Batman, becoming Gotham's first vigilante

greatest of ease: Dick-Centric, POV Outsider, Dick Grayson as seen in the eyes of the people surrounding him

Yesterday's Voices: Bruce&Batkids, Bruce's memory of the past five years gets erased leaving behind a softer man, one who doesn't remember Jason's death

show me yesterday, for i can’t find today: Jason-Centric, Jason&The Batfam, Robin!Jason and Red Hood switch places

Eat Your Heart Out, Social Life (50k+ words)

Vultures, Squirrels, and Other Flying Menaces: So good, AU where instead of becoming Robin, Tim hires Deathstroke to kill Joker, leading to the assassin adopting him and the other Batkids.

I’m alone here, I think: TimKon, Witch Tim, Tim is erased from everyone's memories and leaves Gotham. Kon finds him anyways.

You, Me, and the Humanity in Between: Soft and sweet, Bruce&His kids, Non-Human Batkids

cards on the table: Tim-Centric, Tim&Batfam, Tim's parents fake their death and leave Tim behind. He uses his stalking skills to become a fortuneteller scammer. Against his will, he ends up befriending the Waynes

Roasted: Funny, Cute, Dick-Centric, Talon AU, Dick&Batfam, Recovered Talon Dick opens a coffee shop that ends up becoming Rogue-Vigilante neutral grounds

Code Bat: Batfam, The bats aren't known, they have an emergency code to only be used in emergency case when revealing affiliation is inevitable (idk how to explain but its good trust me)

Minimum Height Requirement: SOFT, Bruce&His kids, Batfam, Batman doesn't let his kids become vigilantes before they turn eighteen

Running Headlong into My Arms: Soft, No Capes AU, even without Batman, Bruce finds his family

Liminal Space: Tim-Centric, Tim&Bruce, Tim&Batfam, Tim ends up in a softer and kinder version of his world

Robins and Other Flightless Birds: Bruce-Centric, Bruce&His kids, A Batman without kids is visited by another version of himself. He finds tha he, too, wants kids.

Laughter Lines: JayRoy, Soft, Jason helps raise Lian, before and after his death

Stars of the Forgotten: Bruce-Centric, Meta!Batkids, Bruce&His kids, on the search for a missing Barbara Gordon, Batman stumbles upon five metahuman kids in need of a home

Latchkey: Sweet, Tim-Centric, Robin!Jason, BatWatch!Tim, The Waynes get concerned with their lonely neighbor, Tim Drake

Ain't No Compass, Ain't No Map: Funny, Tim&Jason, Borderline abandoned Tim Drake gets taken in by Crime Lord Red Hood. CPS tries investigating, with little results

And that's it for today. If you're still here, thank you so much and seriously, some of these are so good, so read them, trust me!

Sorry i took so long to get back to you, i had to organize the mess in my AO3 bookmarks and compiling this took me ages.

Let me know what you all think, and if you ever want more!!!! (Yes i have more. It's a problem)

306 notes · View notes

synthshenanigans · 10 months ago

Text

I know this was from like two weeks ago but I keep thinking about this & everytime I start crying laughing because of how wrong this is

I’m convinced that Chonny Jash is the only straight man who is bisexual

#I MEAN THIS COMPLETELY LIGHT HEARTED THO #its just so insanely hilarious to me because he is neither straight nor bisexual #ik you just didn't know but how does it feel to be the funniest person to me #again i mean this all in the nicest way possible ofc #if anything he's like a pansexual in bisexual lighting #not bi but he rocks the colors tho

41 notes · View notes

fryingpan1234567 · 5 months ago

Text

aaaaaanyways. pride month at Camp Half Blood?

if you remember that one post from a while ago (general hc’s about chb), I did say I would do a fully pride post eventually

so without further ado, I present to all my lovely gay demigods:

PRIDE MONTH AT CHB🗣️🗣️

SO we’ve already discussed the decorations of some of the cabins, like Percy putting rainbow hippocampi scales all over the walls, the Demeter and Persephone cabins growing colorful flowers all over their roofs, the Hecate cabin and its Sentient Gay Door

I like to think the Iris cabin is just fully blasting rainbows all the time it looks like a Minecraft beacon

they play capture the flag every June with a pride flag that has the CHB logo on it

limited edition CHB pride merch😭

Mr. D defending trans campers by driving bigots slightly insane long enough to slap themselves and then go back to normal

Y’ALL KNOW ABOUT THE PRONOUN CORRECTION AIR HORNS? THAT’S THE ENTIRE APOLLO CABIN + LEO AND PERCY

Some ignorant prick about a transmasc camper: “Oh yeah she—“

Percy: *AIR HORN* “IT’S HE, BITCH”

Ignorant prick: “Okay Jesus I’m sorry”

A different ignorant prick: *makes some dumb joke about “always being able to tell” and receives at least seven different air horns from all the Apollo campers in the vicinity*

Leo’s been following this one really irritating chick around all day because she can’t figure out one of his sibling’s genders and blasting her in the face every time she fucks up their pronouns😭😭😭

anyways yeah I like to imagine there’s a demigod pride festival somewhere, maybe in New York

or no there’s demigods everywhere I bet they have parade floats all the time in lots of cities and the Mist conceals the “fireworks” which are actually just godly light shows

Apollo rocks up to camp in a rainbow crop top and a pink drink from Starbucks just to sing Born This Way in the middle of the day and then dip again

Aphrodite blessing random queer couples with finding perfect date setups “conveniently” in their paths

all the gods physically restraining Hera when she tries to go fuck with Jason while he’s on a date w Leo

Percy and Annabeth in matching shirts that say ✨BEST BI✨ with the Best Buy price tag logo in the middle

Nico got glitterbombed on June 1st the second he stepped out of his cabin by the entire Apollo cabin (and Jason) and is still finding sparkles in his hair a week later

Aphrodite kids are walking dictionaries of all the rainbow terms, somehow, and they also all know which days in June are for which awareness or pride or whatever flag

campers who transitioned over the school year and coming back to camp a different gender and their godly parent re-claims them as their true self

Percy “I can’t believe I used to think I was straight” Jackson educating some of the younger campers on bisexuality and how, no, you don’t always know right away

Annabeth “I had a crush on Thalia and Luke at the same time and it was horrible” Chase always reassuring the nervous kids that there’s nothing wrong with being queer (and that she’ll fight any homophobic family members they may have)

actually they kind of all do that

Some little kid: “Well……. I don’t wanna tell my stepdad, he might kick me out”

Percy, remembering that his dad kept Medusa’s head after it got sent to Olympus: “Give me your address, I have an idea”

Piper will verbally eviscerate anybody she catches being even remotely homophobic. I mean she will swipe phones out of her siblings’ hands to tell off some ignorant grandmother

Jason does NOT get into physical altercations outside of sparring and literal war, but the closest he ever got was after hearing someone call Nico a slur (Percy and Leo had to physically drag him away from the other guy)

William Solace has white cowboy boots. I Will Start Sobbing On The Spot

Percy and Jason wore matching skirts for the pride festival and it was great— these 6-foot-plus brick shithouses of heroes who have single-handedly won wars aggressively waving tiny pride flags at each other and dancing to IT GIRL on the quad

Cecil and Lou Ellen made these magic rainbow smoke bombs, crawled up on the roof of the Hermes cabin, and slingshotted them into the masses Just Because™️

(Will’s hair was blue and pink for weeks)

RAINBOW WAR PAINT FOR CAPTURE THE FLAG.

Clarisse fucking kicked someone into the lake because they made fun of one of her siblings’ dyed hair

Connor thought it would be funny to leave a mini pan flag on top of Mr. D’s Diet Coke stash, mostly as a harmless joke, but the next day he noticed Mr. D had tucked it into his horrible Hawaiian shirt pocket like a handkerchief😭

watching Love, Simon in the amphitheater for movie night and half the campers had to excuse themselves early for sobbing too hard

Malcolm and Annabeth reread Red White and Royal Blue every summer. They say they’re Henry and June, Connor is Alex, and Percy is Nora

(this is confirmed when the two of them start a foot fight in the dining pavilion with a Chipotle burrito)

Leo IMing Jo and Emmie to wish them a happy pride (and tell Georgina and Waystation I said hello)

Piper and Leo getting into a HEATED debate about whether Velma Dinkley is a lesbian or not

”YOU CANNOT LOOK AT HER OVERSIZED-SWEATER-OVER-MY-PROM-DRESS ASS AND TELL ME YOU THINK SHE’S TOTALLY STRAIGHT—“

”WHAT SHE AND SHAGGY HAD WAS REAL, BEAUTY QUEEN! HOT DOG WATER AIN’T GOT NOTHIN ON NORVILLE ROGERS—“

”LEO! HER NAME IS MARCIE! AND THEY ARE EACH OTHER’S W A L L P A P E R S .”

Jason, sitting in the middle of them, now deaf in both ears: Lupa give me strength

GUYS PLEASE SEND ME SPECIFIC SHIPS OR CHARACTERS TO WRITE PRIDE HC’S FOR I WOULD LOVE TO🙏🙏🙏🙏

458 notes · View notes

cinnamon-galaxies · 3 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐢𝐫 - Part 1

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairings: Alastor x female reader Summary: During a night out at a club with the hotel crew, you enjoy dancing and drinking with Angel while Alastor remains visibly uncomfortable in the lounge area. Seeking distraction from your conflicted feelings towards him, you connect with another woman, which quickly escalates into an embarrassing situation. This forces you to question not only your emotions but also the true nature of your complicated relationship with Alastor. Warnings/Tags: female reader, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, drunk reader, kissing, reader is bisexual and makes out with another woman, Alastor gets jealous, Alastor is bad at feelings so instead of communicating his jealousy he decides to taunt reader, second hand embarrassment Wordcount: 4.4k A/N: I can’t believe it – I’ve finally managed to write a new story! It has a second part that’s almost finished and will be posted at the end of the month. If you’d like to be tagged when it’s up, just let me know! Fun fact about this story: It includes lore about my OC Mara, as the circumstances under which the reader meets Selena are the same as those in which Mara encounters her best friend in my AU! Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

The club was packed with bodies and the colorful neon lights flickered in time with the relentless beat of electronic music. Loud chatter and the pounding bass around him formed an unbearable cacophony that made Alastor cringe inwardly. He despised the modern scene and its noise, the crowds and overall lack of refinement. It was far from his idea of a pleasant evening. Oh, how much he hated to be here. Stressed and feeling completely out of place, Alastor sat in the lounge area of one of Pentagram City's most notorious clubs, his grin strained, his ears perked up and a much too sweet cocktail in his hand. If it wasn’t for his gloves, the whitened knuckles from his heavy grip around the glass would’ve been apparent even from afar. He hadn’t intended to come here and would’ve preferred to stay at the hotel, settling himself in front of his fireplace with a good book and fine jazz in the background. Honestly, he would’ve even preferred to clean the entire hotel over being forced to spend his time in this establishment which felt as wrong as a walk through the Vee’s district. It was Angel Dust who had brought up the idea of this excursion, promising a wild night of fun and debauchery to blow off some steam. The other residents had barely hesitated, convinced by the idea of spending a night out together. To Alastor’s biggest disapproval, they had insisted on him to accompany them. Not that they would’ve had the power to convince him to leave the tranquility of the quiet hotel behind for such a cacophony of modern entertainment that could be the product of one of his nightmares – no. It was you who had convinced him in the end. You were just too persistent and persuasive, and he was just too taken with you to refuse after such big eyes begged him to join.

You, on the other side, enjoyed the evening. You were completely in your element, dressed up in a tight but elegant cocktail dress and exuding confidence as if you owned this place. Together with Angel Dust, you dominated the dance floor with fluid and inhibited movements, your arms held up in the air while you swung your hips to the rhythm of the music. You quickly became the center of attention, especially for Alastor who couldn’t help but watch you from his secluded spot, a mix of admiration and irritation flickering in his otherwise unreadable eyes. How he admired your confidence, your ability to let loose in such an uncomfortable and overstimulating place, reveling in the atmosphere with such vivid enthusiasm. Yet, the feelings he held for you were a secret, cautiously buried beneath the layers of his Radio Demon persona.

“Come on, Smiles, loosen up and have some fun,” Angel Dust suddenly interrupted his train of thoughts, and Alastor snapped his head in his direction, raising his eyebrows at the spider demon. When did he leave the dance floor? As Alastor glanced at him, he noticed a small tray with half a dozen shots in his hands. Angel must have left for the bar to get drinks for himself and the others. If he really thought he could convince Alastor to indulge in this kind of modern entertainment, he was delusional.

Without a word, Alastor rolled his eyes and waved him off, his gaze drifting back to you before he got aware that Angel Dust still stood beside him and turned his attention to the glass in his hand.

The spider demon let out a deep sigh. “Alright. Haven’t expected anything else,” he murmured and walked on, but not without placing one of the full shot glasses on the small table in front of Alastor and disappearing before Alastor could say something. He watched Angel Dust return to the dance floor, heading directly towards you. Then he stared at the shot glass and raised his eyebrow, clear liquor grinning back at him. With a sigh that was impossible to hear under the loud noise other people dared to call ‘music’, he took it in his hand and downed the substance in one gulp. A spicy burn seared in his throat, making him cough. At least the shot was tolerable…

You had the time of your afterlife. Increasingly intoxicated after downing one drink after another you danced in the crowd, hips swaying vividly to the music with such unrestrained joy you haven’t felt in a long time. It was a good idea to agree to Angel’s suggestion to go partying. You didn't know that you needed this until you had arrived and he dragged you to the bar almost immediately to get ready for a night of reckless debauchery. You haven’t left the dance floor since you’ve emptied your first longdrink and probably won’t within predictable time because Angel Dust served you with new drinks almost every quarter of an hour.

You watched your friend worm himself through the crowd, skillfully avoiding contact with any of the other guests, balancing the tray high above his head while he shielded himself from accidental punches with his second set of arms. When he arrived, he placed the tray on a high bar table not far from you. Still entranced by the music you danced your way over to him.

“Damn, you really want to mess me up, huh?”, you joked as you noticed the amount of shots he got and Angel shrugged his shoulders.

“Lil’ stock supply will prevent me from fighting myself over to the bar for at least another half an hour,” he responded, handing you a shot glass and taking one for himself.

A laugh escaped your throat and you praised him for his genius idea with a quick wink. “Then let’s hope no one will spike them when we look away.” With that, you raised your shot glass in a quick toast and downed the clear liquor with high anticipation, a cough escaping you as the spicy alcohol burned down your throat. Dry Ouzo. Tasty, but like fire in the stomach.

Angel chuckled at your reaction, clearly unaffected due to his regular club nights with Cherri.

“Hey man, thanks for the drinks!” a random stranger exclaimed over the music, boldly snatching two shots away and disappearing in the crowd as fast as he had appeared.

“And so the stock runs out,” Angel Dust deadpanned with an annoyed expression, staring with narrowed eyes in the direction the shot thief took their leave.

You snorted through your nose, erupting in wholehearted laughter at his reaction, and shrugged your shoulders. “Looks like you’ll have to return to the bar sooner than anticipated,” you mocked him with a smirk, patting one of his lower shoulder joints.

“Hmpf…” Without another word, Angel took another shot and downed it right after.

You and Angel Dust spend some time just standing at the bar table, chatting with raised voices and watching the other guests while you commented on their dancing styles or played a sheepish game of ‘fuck, marry, kill’ with random strangers you pointed out from the crowd.

After what was about an hour, you cleared your throat. “I need to go to the bathroom. After that, I’ll head to the bar and get myself a soda,” you informed Angel, and he nodded in acknowledgment. Pushing yourself up from the table, you navigated through the crowds, the effect of almost half a dozen shots clearly affecting your vision and balance. It wasn’t too debilitating because your body could handle large amounts of alcohol easily, but you still felt uncomfortable and needed some time to steady yourself and return to your senses. Some non-alcoholic drinks might work wonders to ease the symptoms. You're bound to face a brutal hangover tomorrow anyway.

After you returned from the bathrooms you walked over to the bar, ordering a simple soda from the barkeeper. You thanked him as he handed you your non-alcoholic drink and leaned with your back against the bar counter. As you took a few gulps, your gaze wandered around the club and a sigh escaped your throat. It was an awesome evening though different from what you expected. You actually had planned to take it easy and not indulge in such debauchery. But Angel had claimed you as soon as you entered the club, dragging you away from the group and lulling you to loosen up. It’s not that you weren’t eager to go clubbing. You actually liked to partake in such excursions and just forget about the daily stress for an evening full of fun and loud music. And this time, it seemed to be helpful to suppress certain matters of the heart as well…

Your gaze wandered to the lounge area where you found a certain deer demon sitting on a couch – the seats around him unoccupied because no one dared to sit close to him – and you could feel your heart sink. You were so confident when you convinced him to join your excursion and yet you didn’t dare to spare him a single glance ever since you entered this establishment. You had convinced him to join in a moment of boldness, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this could be an opportunity to bridge the gap between you. But instead you feared that you complicated things even further.

Alastor was an enigma and that was part of the allure that drew you in. His charm, his charisma, and the old-world chivalry he brought to every interaction caused you to melt every time he was near. He made your heart race with a single glance, his touch – so commanding yet delicate – set your skin on fire, sending thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He was a force of nature, fierce and unpredictable, with a soft spot only those he chose were privileged to see. And you were one of those people. Yet, you weren’t even sure if you meant anything to him because he held you at a respectable distance, initiating a game of push and pull between you that left you reeling.

Was it a mistake to bring him here? A part of you thought it was because you knew he never was one for Hell’s modern nightlife and seeing him sit there, a predator among prey with a strained grin plastered on his face and holding onto a drink in his hands, only highlighted the chasm between you two. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that you made things worse by dragging him into an environment where he seemed completely out of place, and where your feelings for him felt more unrequited than ever.

"Dizzy head?" A female voice disrupted your train of thoughts, and you raised your head to meet the kind face of a beautiful woman leaning against the bar counter. She held a long drink with a tiny paper umbrella in her hand, her lips curled into a soft smile. Her skin had a pale pinkish hue, almost ghostly under the club's dim yet colorful lights, while two horns peeked out from her thick raven hair.

"A little," you responded, pushing your daunting thoughts away, and took a sip from your soda. "But nothing to worry about. A few minutes of abstinence will do enough," you laughed lightly, trying to shake off the haze.

The woman laughed along and glanced thoughtfully at the drink in her hands. “I’ll probably do the same after this one.” She shrugged and then turned her gaze back to you. “I’m Selena,” she introduced herself with a bright smile.

“Y/N!” you returned much more joyfully than you felt.

“So, your first time here? I’m a regular guest here so I know all of the common faces.”

You took another sip from your soda. Maybe getting to know someone new would help you feel better. “I actually came here with a group of people. Friends and co-workers, you could say. Just a simple night out to get some distraction from the stress of maintaining the hotel,” you explained with a slight smile on your lips as your gaze quickly wandered around the club. You noticed some of your companions scattered across the establishment.

Selena tilted her head curiously, clearly intrigued. “The hotel? So, you’re working at that ‘Hazbin Hotel’?” she asked, and soon your casual small talk turned into an extensive conversation. You told her about your job and Charlie’s unusual belief in redemption that barely received any recognition, and Selena listened intently, her curiosity keeping the conversation alive with thoughtful questions. As you talked, a sense of relief washed over you. Slowly, you learned more about Selena, and before long, thoughts of Alastor faded from your mind entirely.

As the night wore on, you found yourself drawn back into the rhythm of shots and cocktails, and soon enough, Selena dragged you back to the pulsing dance floor. The flashing lights and thumping bass faded into the background as you moved in sync, the world reduced to just the two of you dancing and laughing like old friends. The chemistry between you was palpable. Selena mirrored your enthusiasm and joy with such ease that it felt like you had known each other for years. With every dance move and shared laughter, the bond between you deepened and you were certain that if the night continued on this smoothly and you both remembered each other the next morning, you had found a new friend.

The music – a popular pop song from the early 2000’s – filled the air, infusing the atmosphere with nostalgia and energy, and a sense of euphoria washed over you. You danced, drinks raised into the air while you held each other on the shoulders. Each move felt like a release, a moment of being liberated from all worries and constraints as the adrenaline rushed through your veins.

You exchanged meaningful glances with Selena, unable to ignore the magnetic pull you felt toward her. Was it merely the alcohol heightening your perceptions, or was it genuinely her captivating presence – her allure, infectious personality, and sharp wit – that drew you in? You didn’t know but your mutual attraction pulled you closer until you eventually slipped away, stumbling into a quiet hallway at the back of the club, away from the pounding music and the press of bodies. The alcohol clouded your vision, lowered your senses and your boundaries. And so, you found yourself caught in a passionate embrace with Selena. Your fingers played with her hair as you pressed yourself against her, using the proximity with that alluring woman to your own benefit to forget about the tight squeeze around your heart and all the inner turmoil you felt whenever you thought about him.

Meanwhile, Alastor still sat in his secluded spot, grateful that his presence was nervously avoided by the other guests. He appreciated not having to endure forced proximity with people – at least most of the time. One time during the evening, Charlie – ever the caring person – had seated herself next to him, expressing her worry about his obviously strained mood and claiming to feel guilty for not allowing him to stay at the hotel. How funny that the princess truly believed she was the reason he joined their little night out; as if she had any authority over him... To his surprise, Alastor had easily managed to brush her off by affirming he was alright all over again. A blatant lie, but preferable over enduring more of her neverending rambling. Of course, she reassured him several times that returning to the hotel would be okay, before she eventually left him alone. And Alastor would have already left hours ago if it wasn’t his primary concern to ensure your safety.

He felt a migraine coming on, an unpleasant throbbing in his temple caused by the stress this establishment was inflicting upon him. Rising from his seat, he decided to retreat from the main area to seek some respite from the oppressive atmosphere, instructing his shadow to remain vigilant. With his cane tapping against the floor with every step, he walked past the lounge area and the dancefloor, the crowd instinctively parting to make way for him like Moses parting the Red Sea. Thanks to his observant shadow, he already knew that the back of the club led to an outside area that offered a welcome relief from the sensory overload.

As he walked through the dimly lit hallway, the music became quieter, no longer assaulting his sensitive hearing, and instead, faint giggles reached his ears. He hesitated before rounding the corner and stopped dead in the tracks. There, in front of him, were you, pressed against a wall and your lips locked with another woman in a heated kiss. The scene was intimate, passionate, and entirely unexpected. Your body was entwined with her’s, your hands roaming through her hair while the woman held you in her embrace.

For a moment, Alastor simply watched, unable to avert his gaze. This revelation caught him completely off-guard and his heart twisted painfully in his chest, an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy and confusion warring inside him. He had known that you were fond of men but this revelation left him reeling. But no matter with whom you were with, seeing you in such an intimate manner with another person was a blow he hadn’t anticipated and that sent a surge of anger through his body. He clenched his fists, torn between storming away and interrupting you, the discomfort palpable in his features while he fought to regain his composure.

Sensing eyes on you, you broke the kiss and looked up. You startled immediately as your eyes fell on the red deer demon.

"Alastor!" you exclaimed in shock, instinctively pushing Selena away. She turned her head, her eyes widening immediately, her face paling in shock and fear as she recognized the figure standing before you both. "You– you’re the Radio Demon!" she stammered, her voice shaky.

You, still breathless from the kiss, clenched your jaws together, feeling just as uncomfortable as Alastor. His grin looked strained for a second but then he returned to his cold, unreadable expression, and your heart sank in your chest.

“Alastor… this isn’t what it looks like…” you muttered a cheap excuse while you felt the heat rising to your face, turning your already alcohol-induced cheeks to a burning red. Your lips curled into a nervous grin, driven by the rush of embarrassment coursing through your veins, mingled with a heavy, unidentifiable tangle of emotions. Out of all your companions, why did it have to be him who caught you in the middle of the act?

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile now sardonic while his gaze wandered back and forth between you and Selena. His voice carried a heavy static as he responded, “Oh, I think it is exactly what it looks like, my dear.”

You took in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t mean to–,” you tried to explain but Alastor cut you off with a dismissive wave of his clawed hand.

“Nonsense, my dear,” he laughed his discomfort off, pushing his jealousy aside, though the enhanced static on his voice betrayed his forced facade. “There’s no need to apologize. You’re free to do whatever you want. I am the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t mean to interrupt your…” He wiggled his fingers in a suggestive gesture that implied everything he wanted to say without having to utter a single word.

You giggled nervously, your heartbeat slowly calming, and glanced at Selena who appeared visibly intimidated by Alastor’s presence, her posture tense and her joyful expression replaced by a mortified grimace, which only made you feel more uneasy.

“I– I should go,” she eventually said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that lingered in the hallway and attempted to walk off.

“No, wait!” you tried to stop her, not wanting to be left alone with Alastor, but Selena just forced herself to tighten her lips into a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you later,” she retorted, interpreting your reaction as a worry to not see her again instead of the sheer plea to not be left alone. With that, she walked off, returning to the main part of the club and leaving you alone with Alastor.

You felt his lingering gaze burning into your side, the faint glow of his crimson eyes in the dim light of the hallway making him appear more dangerous than he was. Well, assuming that Alastor wasn’t dangerous would be utterly naive – he was literally an overlord and one of the most dangerous ones at that. However, he would never harm you, so in that sense, he was harmless.

“Enjoying yourself, I see,” Alastor eventually commented, his unreadable expression sharpened by a subtle flicker of disapproval in his eyes.

You still couldn't bring yourself to look at him and that comment only exacerbated your unease. Why did he have to be someone who found pleasure in keeping other people on edge? Could he at least not wallow in your discomfort now? It wasn’t as if you weren’t already suffering enough.

You sighed and bit your lip, swallowing the clod in your throat before you pulled yourself together to say something. “We were just… oh fuck me…” you mumbled those last words quietly to yourself, “Look, she’s a friend and we got a little too comfortable after drinking so much booze.” While you tried to explain the situation, you asked yourself why you even bothered. He couldn’t care less. You weren’t dating and probably not even friends. Damn, you didn’t even know what you were because everything was just too complicated between the both of you. There were pushes and pulls and every time you felt some tension crackling between you it dissipated again, leaving you clueless and completely confused by Alastor’s unpredictable behavior, his intermittent interest in you, and those random moments that allowed you a fleeting glimpse behind his facade. It was infuriating the least and most of all profoundly frustrating. If it wasn’t for him and your damned feelings for that man, you probably wouldn't even have found yourself in this predicament.

“Why are you even here?” you asked and eventually dared to look at him.

“I was seeking some quiet,” he replied, his voice softer now, the edge gone.

“And then you stumbled upon us and decided to watch?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, come on. I did not watch,” he dismissed your question with a nonchalant throw of his hand, rolling his eyes as if you just asked him the stupidest thing. “But your little rendezvous was attracting quite the attention, dear.”

You gritted your teeth and decided to push his borders a little. If he could make the situation awkward for you then you could certainly return the favor. Besides, you were still drunk and the alcohol lowered your inhibitions enough to go completely bold in front of him.

Narrowing your eyes you crossed your arms in front of your chest and relaxed back against the same wall you were just pressed against by Selena mere minutes ago. “Quite the attention or your attention, Alastor?” you asked, pretending to be more confident than you actually were.

Alastor’s grin grew more strained immediately and you could swear that one of his eyes twitched for a quick second before he regained his composure yet another time. Why was he so tense? Normally, Alastor would’ve just raised an eyebrow and walked past you without further interest. But instead he froze on spot, obviously unable to avert his gaze until you felt his eyes on you.

He didn’t respond, so your expression grew more smug as you decided to push him just a little bit further. Maybe you could use this situation to your advantage and finally get some answers… “Could it be that it bothered you to catch me with someone else?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, dear,” he dismissed your question with another throw of his hand, rolling his eyes yet again. “I was merely caught off-guard by seeing you engaging in such frivolities with another woman. I didn’t know you swung both ways.” He tilted his head and chuckled, the static filter on his voice distorting the sound almost unnervingly.

“Well, there’s a lot about me that you don’t know,” you retorted, your voice coming out sharper than expected.

One of Alastor’s ears twitched at your aggravated tone. “Is that so?” he asked.

“It is.” You deadpanned.

A moment of silence lingered between the two of you until Alastor broke it, “Well, the world is full of surprises, isn’t it? And you, my dear, seem to be full of surprises too.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”

“How about both?” He tilted his head once more, casually positioning his cane in front of him and leaning on it the way he usually did when he found himself intrigued by something. The tension that had gripped him so tightly vanished as if it had never been there at all. And there it was: the so-called push and pull that left you reeling for months.

You took a deep breath, growing annoyed by this conversation. “If you don’t care then why are you still here?”

“Curiosity, dear,” he responded casually.

“Curiosity?” You arched an eyebrow, not quite buying his answer.

“Indeed,” he affirmed.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” you deadpanned.

“And satisfaction brought it back,” he retorted, clearly enjoying the banter.

You groaned. Why did he have to do this to you…? “Well, if you’re satisfied now… you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be.” You pushed yourself off the wall, ready to return to the dance floor – but not without heading towards the bar beforehand and ordering the strongest booze you could get here.

You already set off, as Alastor’s voice called after you, “Running away, are we?”

You stopped in your tracks and closed your eyes, reminding yourself that you were in public and therefore couldn’t just hit his head against a brick. Or…? Well, actually you could. You were in Hell, anyway. But Alastor was much stronger than you, and if you were to attack him, it meant that you couldn't be certain he would no longer be harmless to you. “I am not running away. I just don't see any reason to stay here and be interrogated by you any longer.”

“Interrogated? My dear, I'm simply making conversation.”

“This ain’t a simple conversation if you’re prying into my personal life.” With that you straightened your back and headed back to the main room of the club, leaving Alastor alone in the hallway, completely unaware of the hurt expression on his face.

Part 2 will be out at the end of the month. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

214 notes · View notes

written-in-flowers · 4 months ago

Text

Her Mate: Demon!Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Incubi!Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, MINORS DNI

Word Count: 9k

Summary: Seonghwa's "unconventional" upbringing gave him a strong sense of self-control. Yet, whenever he is near you, he finds himself weakening at the sight of his "mate".

Tags: polyamorous relationship, open relationship, m/m/m/f relationship, light dom/dub themes, implied childhood trauma, implied underage sex, mentions of bisexual sex, incest, office sex, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), anal fingering, rimming, rimjob, vaginal fingering, rough oral sex, window sex, mind games (not on reader), implied dub-con (not with reader), foreplay, nipple play, breast play, tongue fucking (vaginal and anal), messy cum stuff, spitting, light spanking, self-lubrication, cum swallowing. Also, if you happen to know who Marquis de Sade is...um, yeah, he's mentioned too.

Pretty Lady Masterlist

Previously on Pretty Lady

Next >>

***

“And if I only could, I’d make a deal with God and I’d get him to swap our places. Be running up that road, be running up that hill, be running up that building with no problems…”

He found the song suitable for your voice. Seonghwa often thought you had the soprano range of the singer, which befit the genre and eras you loved so much. Of course, you could sing a bit higher but not by much. Yeosang begrudgingly admitted you had a nice singing voice, though could use improvement. Seonghwa disagreed. He enjoyed listening to you sing while you tended to your plants or danced around your room or dressed or undressed or any other time he caught you. You often became shy or awkward when you knew someone watched you, like the beautiful singing birds on the branches. So, whenever he caught wind of your voice, he quietly approached.

Seonghwa found you in your bedroom, headphones on and head nodding to the music while you worked. He noticed small bags of dirt and fertilizer beside your desk and on the other side bags of various seeds. He knew you sometimes grew plants in your bedroom, turning it into a smaller version of a greenhouse, but they’re usually stuck to the walls or floors. This one sat in a small pot. Seonghwa leaned against your bedpost, brushing his fingers over the peonies on the footboard, while he enjoyed your singing. It was similar to watching an animal in its natural habitat. You looked at ease, unguarded and peaceful. He liked you this way. The slave he’d known always remained quiet, obedient in doing what she was told. The Lady of Eden spoke her mind often and even bit back. Seonghwa wondered if that was the real you. He imagined the ambitious, clever woman who managed to break the glass ceiling into power with her looks alone. Just because you didn’t go to college didn’t mean you weren’t intelligent. A woman owning her own scamming company needed a brain.

“Oh come on, baby. Oh, come on, darling. Let me steal this moment from you now. Oh, come on angel. Come on, come on, darling. Let’s exchange the experience.”

“What are you up to, Kitten?” he asked, unable to call you anything else now.

You jumped at his voice, laughing softly from the small rush. “Gaia showed me how to make hybrid plants,” you told him, removing the headphones. “I’ve been giving it a shot.”

Ever since your family decided to train you themselves, your powers have grown exponentially. Your mother told him you’d taken to your training like a fish to water. She said you had a talent for regrowing and strengthening your “children”. He did note how the greenhouse plants thrived underneath your care, much more than they did with him. Rhea mentioned your stable control. Whenever she purposefully ticked a nerve, no doors blew open or plants shooting to strangle anyone. Seonghwa was glad for this. He’d worried he’d be replacing broken doors for all eternity.

“Come look,” you beckoned him over to your desk. When he reached you, he saw a tiny sprout in the plant. About the height of a pencil, it had arrowhead petals the color of opals with a center a blood red. The flower moved to “look” at him, and he heard it give the softest of coos. “I thought of making flowers that have gemstone colors,” you said. “I think they’d look beautiful. This one is supposed to be opals. I hope when it gets bigger, the petals shine like them too.”

“It’s gorgeous,” he said, putting an arm around your waist. “Is this the first one?”

“No,” you frowned. “The first two didn’t take or die right away. This one has lasted overnight, so I have high hopes for her.”

You cupped the top of the flower, running your thumb over a petal. He saw how lovingly you looked at your creations.

“Sometimes, I wish I was a plant,” he said without thinking.

“What?” you looked over at him, amused.

“Then perhaps you’d look at me the way you look at them,” he said, gazing over your face.

“I do,” you admitted, turning to him. “You’re just not looking at me when I do it. It kind of ruins the whole ‘looking-when-they’re-not-looking’ if you knew.”

You slid your hands up his chest to his shoulders. Briefly, he thought back to the first time he’d seen you. The glowing firelight behind you illuminated your features, and caught itself in your hair. You shook with fear, but that quickly dissipated when he licked your center. Not because you’d fallen in love with him, but because you saw you weren’t going to “die”. You understood the benefits of being a duke’s pet. Being a slave to one of Asmodeus’s heirs came with more pros than cons. However, as time went on, he hoped your feelings might have changed. Perhaps you no longer see him as your ‘Master’, whom you must obey and fear, but as a partner. A lover. A ‘mate’, as his mother had said. Gently, he caressed your cheek as he studied your face.

“Which you’re doing right now,” you giggled, breaking him free of his thoughts.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I…I get caught up in my thoughts, sometimes.”

“Well, what were you thinking about?”

“How my mother called you my ‘mate’ the other day.”

“She’d said that?”

“You weren’t in the room. She’d said, ‘I heard you have a mate. What’s it like biting from the same apple as your brothers, Seonghwa?’”

“Ugh, she’s the worst. What did you say?”

“That you’re more of a peach than an apple,” he smirked, pecking your lips, “And that sharing you with people I love doesn’t bother me at all.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I love my brothers. I love them more than what is considered appropriate,” he huffed a laugh, “So sharing you with them doesn’t bother me. I take it that it doesn’t bother you either?”

“Not one bit,” you grinned, arms around his middle. “I’m a lucky girl.”

“Very,” he said, hands going up and down your back. The sweet honeyed scent he loved threatened to overpower his senses. “Would you want to be?”

“Be lucky? Yeah.”

“No,” he chuckled, “Be my…Be my mate.”

“Like a girlfriend?”

“Sure.”

“I thought I was?” you looked up at him. “Did you think we weren’t?”

“I didn’t know what to think, if I am honest,” he admitted. “This all happened quite suddenly, and I haven’t had a moment to really think about it.”

“You? Mr. Brooding didn’t have time to mull over something for hours?” you teased, making him smile rather than scowl.

“I’ve been concerned with more important things lately,” he said. “Also, I…”

“Was scared that I wouldn’t feel the same way,” you finished for him.

“Yes,” he breathed bashfully.

“I do,” you said. “I can’t believe I do, but nobody has ever made me feel how you and the others do.” You played with the serpent stick pin on his tie. “The guys I dated before felt so shallow and meaningless. They left just as fast as they’d appeared. Most of them had wives or girlfriends too, whom they always chose over me, their ‘mistress’. I…” you stared at the golden pin, not wanting to meet his eyes as you spoke, “I meant nothing to them. I want to say they meant nothing to me, but that wasn’t always true. I did like some of them. But, I always knew it wouldn’t last. I had goals, and sometimes I gave up nice things for them. My life seems so hollow now that I look back at it. I had no one. Nobody stayed or wanted to stay.” He spotted tears glistening in your eyes and you turned away.

“You have me,” he said, gently lifting your chin. “I want to stay, and I want you to stay. I feared you might decide to live in Eden after all, and leave me. Thoughts of never seeing your face or hearing your singing made me feel empty.”

You smiled softly, tracing his sharp jaw down to his neck. “And I thought San was the romantic one.”

“I can be too,” he said, taking your hand to kiss your knuckles, “When the mood strikes me.”

“You remind me of those guys in those sappy dime-store novels,” you said.

“Dime-store novels?”

“You know, the little books they sell in the magazine section that have those dramatic, idealized covers? You remind me of them. There’s always these long love confessions and romance scenes that lead into steamy sex right afterwards. She’ll be a woman running away from something or have a traumatizing past; he’ll always be the small town farmer or the shopkeeper or a lumberjack with a stern face but heart of gold. They find each other through various circumstances-it changes all the time- and end up falling in love despite the odds.”

He chuckled at your description, supposing it might be true. “You mean bodice-ripper romances?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you shrugged. “The girl is always swooning and the guy has his shirt open, and he’s super muscular. You remind me of them a little bit.”

“That I’m muscular and always have my shirt open? Sounds more like San to be fair.”

You giggled, “Because you’re the sexy bookish guy who pretends he’s not interested in the protagonist when really he is.” He let your fingers hook around his lapel to bring him in for a kiss.

“Except I make my interest in you very known.”

He gave you a few brief kisses, wanting desperately to go further. Seonghwa knew the result of kissing you too deeply, and the temptation reached inside him the longer he stood in front of you.

“Don’t go,” you said, your lips against his. “Stay with me.”

“I have work to do.”

“Is it really that important?” you asked, hands going into his black curls. You gave him a few pecks, then said, “So important you’d leave me behind?” You placed his hand on your chest, urging him to fondle you. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do,” he said, giving it a gentle squeeze, “But unfortunately I do one of the most important jobs in Hell.” He gave you another kiss, controlling his lust for you. “You know I come back at lunch time.” He tugged at the bra strap exposed by your off-the-shoulder shirt, pulling it as far as it’d go. Seonghwa started a trail of kisses from your neck to where the strap stopped. “I never pass on a good dessert,” he said, pressing his lips to the top of your breast.

“I suppose waiting makes it better,” you huffed. “Should I wear your favorite when you come home?”

Seonghwa groaned softly, kissing up your neck. An image of you in his study, wearing a short pleated skirt, cropped top, and knee high socks filled his thoughts. But, responsibility came before pleasure.

“Yes,” he breathed, tempted to tug down your shirt and bra to kiss your nipples. “I’d love that.”

“I can put it on for you now,” you told him in his ear. “Would you like to watch me put it on?”

“I would if I could, Kitten,” he said, forcing himself away from temptation.

“Fine,” you frowned, fixing your shirt. “I’ll stay and wait for you to come back.”

Seonghwa, not wanting to leave you frowning, kissed you one more time as he slid his hand into your shorts. You weren’t wet, but he groaned at the heat on his fingers. You clutched his arm suddenly, stiffening at the hand slowly rubbing circles against your panties. Even if you’d started going around without them, you wore them for him. He liked it because pulling them off you felt more like unwrapping a present, your sweet sex being the gift.

“Jongho,” he called out, watching you slowly uncoil at his touch. He heard Jongho appear from nowhere.

“Yes, Master?”

Seonghwa knew the butler did everything he could not to notice what was happening. He smirked over at him, “Your mistress needs some attention, but sadly I must head to the office. Why don’t you lend her a hand?” He gently pulled down your shorts to reveal the soft, cotton panties underneath. “Where do you want it?”

“I want you right here,” you brought him to you, sitting on the desk while you pulled him between your legs. “Just a few licks at least? Your tongue is so much better.”

“You’ll have my tongue later,” he said, knuckles running up and down your slit. “For now, you can enjoy Jongho’s tongue. Don’t you like getting eaten out by him?”

“I love it,” you said, “But I want you, Master.”

“And you will have it,” he said more firmly, “Later.” He kissed your lips, then turned back around. “Jongho, come here.”

Jongho took his place in front of you. Seonghwa stood and watched as your most loyal servant kissed and fondled you. He knew he was a goner when you passionately kissed him, both your tongues sliding over lips and teeth like eels. Leaning against your bedpost once more, he observed as Jongho started sucking and kissing your nipples. His low groans matched yours as you withdrew him from his trousers. Only half hard, Seonghwa knew with a few more kisses and the right strokes, his cock would be throbbing madly. Soon, Jongho sank to his knees to kiss your center. You held onto the edge of your desk as he deepened it, sliding his tongue over your clothed sex and hands gripping your thighs. Your face scrunched up from pleasure, body shifting to grind to his face, you looked too good to pass up. He knew with a bit of persuasion, his brothers would’ve jumped at the chance, but Seonghwa didn’t.

“Would you like me to take them off, Mistress?” Jongho asked you, “Or simply move them aside?”

“Take them off,” you said, looking over at Seonghwa, “So our master can see your tongue on my clit.”

So he did. You lifted one leg onto the desk to give him a perfect view of your naked pussy. Seonghwa bit his inner cheek, knowing you’re doing everything in your power to bring him back over to you. Jongho stuck out his tongue and flicked it against your clitoris, languidly rolling it counter-clockwise. Seonghwa intently watched the servant tease your folds, wetting them with his tongue and your stickiness. He moved back over to you, but only to remove your shirt and tug down your bra. Seonghwa groped at one of them, pinching and teasing your nipple as Jongho licked your cunt.

“I don’t want him to put anything in you,” he instructed, licking his thumb to rub on your hard nipple. “He can only rub and lick your holes. He can touch and lick any of them, but his dick goes nowhere near them,” he said, looking down to see Jongho sucking your throbbing clit. “Do you know why, Kitten?”

“Because they’re your holes, Master,” you smiled, loving the dynamic between you, “And nobody fucks them but you.”

“That’s right. You’re such a good girl,” he said, moving to grope the other side, “I want you to come to my office at exactly eleven o’clock. There, you’re going to sit on my desk facing the windows, legs open, and patiently wait for me. If you’re not there and/or my holes aren’t presented for me when I get there, I’m going to punish you in my favorite way. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Repeat my order back to me.”

“You want me-me at your office at eleven o’clock, sitting on your desk facing the windows, and presenting your holes patiently. If I’m not there or your holes aren’t ready, you’ll punish me in your favorite way.”

“Good girl,” he gave you a soft kiss. “And, yes, wear my favorite outfit today. No panties. No bra. Just the top, the skirt and those knee-high socks I like.”

“May I-I cu-cum, sir?”

He considered it for a moment. It will be a while before he sees you, and it’d be wrong of him to leave it for so long. “Since you thought to ask, yes,” he nodded, “You may only cum twice. Any more and I punish you.”

Perhaps he was one of your bodice-ripper characters after all. Jongho sped up his lapping tongue, having you tense in his grasp. He’d kill a slew of men to stay by your side, admiring you as Jongho pleasured you over and over again. Suddenly, he reminded himself of another man he’d grown up with. He’d prefer not to think about him.

He kissed you one last time, a promise of ‘later’ on his lips before he left. The walk from your bedroom to the front door gave him a minute to shake you off him. The warm air outside blew your scent off his clothes, and dried the kisses left on his skin. Everything in him told him to go back inside and ravage you the way you deserved, but he’d learned a long time ago that promises and time make it much better.

‘You make your prey wait. You let them dangle by their wrists, keep the blindfold over their eyes, and let the fear stew inside. By the time you return, the sound of your footsteps amplifies all the senses. If you break them well enough, they’ll grow hard or wet at the thought of you.’

Seonghwa stepped into his carriage, hearing the driver crack a whip to get it moving. Unlike San and Hongjoong, Seonghwa did not grow up in the mountains and hills of southern Korea. He’d been born in a small hanok in a village before being taken away to be raised elsewhere. His mother’s “children'' did not only serve her from her homeland. They served in all corners of the world and came from all walks of life. From the beggar on the streets of London to an advisor to an Egyptian pharaoh, his mother had many followers. She decreed Seonghwa would be raised as nobility, considering he’d be a Duke of Lust when he came of age. She first sent him to the French countryside to live with a witch who’d served her well. Amaline was a Duchess by marriage, having gained her position through black magic and love potions. She told his mother she’d train and educate the boy but only until she birthed a child of her own. Judging by her husband’s crazed obsession with her and their nightly passions, this did not take very long.

At five-years-old, Seonghwa then stayed with a peasant couple in Paris. Dominique and Fabien Bacque owned a very popular bakery in the city, where they forced Seonghwa to work. They believed since his mother never came around, they could get away with treating him like scum. They forced him to go by a “proper” name that was easier to pronounce.

‘Announcing his lordship, Jean Baptiste Bacque, the filthiest, loathsome rat this side of France!’ Fabien often proclaimed in his dingy bakery, ale in his hand as he and his friends laughed.

Fabien did not laugh for long, however. When his mother arrived to see him, her fury flared at his condition. Her son, a child of the great demon prince Asmodeus, wore rags and was filthier than a street rat. Her son, a Lord of Hell and Duke of Lust, could not read or write. He recalled the vicious hounds his mother set upon the couple. Seonghwa still remembered their screams as the demonic hellhounds tore them to pieces before his eyes.

Seonghwa, twelve-years-old and still growing, went to live in Paris with a nobleman his mother knew well. While Donatien didn’t serve his mother, the Marquis de Sade served his father faithfully since his late teens. Donatien was not only a nobleman, Seonghwa learned, but a writer, political activist and libertine. If anyone was fit to care and educate her son, it was Donatien. This is when his name changed again.

‘Baptiste is such a common name. From now on, you are Jean Hercule Francois, the new Viscount de Sade.’

Still young and new to the world, Seonghwa took to his new position much faster than Hongjoong did later on. Donatien saw his eagerness to learn, his passion for poetry and music, and let him indulge in things like sword fighting, horse riding, croquet, astrology, botany and science. Seonghwa grew up alongside Donatien’s other children, forging close bonds through their lifetimes. It was when Seonghwa turned fourteen that Donatien took him away to the countryside. In a lavish retreat outside of Paris, Donatien told his protege that he’d be taking over his education from then on. Seonghwa thought he meant language, philosophy, literature, swordplay and etiquette. While he’d been half-way right, Donatien taught him more than just that.

“We’re here, my lord,” the driver said.

“Thank you.”

Seonghwa stepped out of the carriage and walked towards a tall building in the middle of a bustling intersection. On the fringes of the main gates, crowds of lost souls wandered in through the stone entrance, crossed a wide bridge, and right into the bowels of the tower. There, they’d be funneled into the long, winding halls of the lower cells where they’d be taken into rooms to be assessed. Seonghwa led a team of demons who had the same mind digging ability as him. Seonghwa reached the glass doors, withdrew his employee ID and swiped to gain entry. He bypassed coworkers on their way into work, making idle chatter in the elevators just to keep up appearances. But, his mind kept going back to his old mentor and guardian, Donatien.

He started with simple drawings and sharing the pornography he wrote. Donatien taught Seonghwa all about the human anatomy from erogenous zones to the various acts people can do to achieve pleasure. He often brought prostitutes to the estate to perform demonstrations. Donatien would lie with them while Seonghwa watched through a hole in the wall. He explained all the new thoughts, curiosities and sensations his adolescent brain took in. Soon, Seonghwa was sitting beside the bed as Donatien engaged in sexual acts with both men and women. Then, Seonghwa moved to the bed, where his teacher taught him how to pleasure his partners. Donatien hosted full on orgies in his home just for his “son” to experiment and indulge in all sorts of acts. If it weren’t for his demon blood, Seonghwa is sure he would’ve contracted a disease.

When Seonghwa was sixteen, Donatien showed him what he’d done with the servant girls he’d hired to attend to his son.

“Good morrow, Seonghwa,” an elderly demon said as he walked by the elevator. “A fine day for digging, huh? Lots of fresh prisoners down in the dungeons today!”

“As there are every minute of every day, Lord Byron,” said Seonghwa good naturedly. “How are things in your section?”

“Wonderful,” he smiled. “Absolutely wonderful. Our numbers have gone up since that terrible war ended. I forget which one, but it’s one of the larger ones. Yours?”

“We’ve kept good numbers. Nothing to boast of by all means, but my team does their best with what we’ve gotten.”

“You’ll come up soon, son. You’re very talented for such a young demon.”

Seonghwa and Lord Byron talked on their way to sections four and six of the office floors. The pair split up, and Seonghwa walked through a door into a long hallway.

Bondage. Sadism. Masochism. Using ropes, whips, chains, and canes to bring pain and pleasure to his partners became the primary focus of his teenage studies. They did not have the advanced sex toys of the modern age, but they had the basics. Seonghwa didn’t like the bloody, violent extremes Donatien took his partners to, but he enjoyed breaking them. Not only in body, but in the mind. He learned how to turn a servant girl from reluctant to desperate with more than slaps to the ass. He learned about his talent for mind digging during this time. It was easy to persuade and trick others when he knew their deepest, darkest desires. He often used it for personal gain or to have an advantage over a rival, but he enjoyed it most in his dungeon.

“Morning, Mr. Park,” said a young woman sitting at a desk beside his office door.

Seonghwa noticed how Mya’s tight button blouse and pencil skirt made her scarlet skin pop. Thin stockings covered her long legs, ending just beneath the hem of the skirt. Behind her thin rimmed glasses, bright orange eyes twinkled at him flirtatiously. A look to tantalize him. Seonghwa didn’t particularly care. Mya looked like every other succubus he’d met throughout his life. He honestly had trouble telling them apart sometimes.

“Morning,” he said. “Mya, I have an important meeting at eleven o’clock, and I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Of course, sir,” she typed out the order in her computer, “The person’s name?”

“YN,” he told her. “You’ll know her when you see her, trust me.”

“Shall I cancel your appointment with your brother then?”

“Yes, go ahead. Hongjoong will understand.”

Hongjoong would do the same thing if it were him, and he’d understand.

He remembered the day he’d come to get his little brother from his village in Korea. A scruffy boy with crimson hair hanging over defiant eyes, Hongjoong didn’t like the posh life Seonghwa lived for so long. He didn’t share the French people’s catholic views, he scowled at their abundance and wealth, and spat at their feet when they criticized him. Seonghwa did his best to educate and train his brother to be a gentleman, but Hongjoong was far from it. At fifteen, he was getting drunk and gambling with the scum of the city. He bedded whores of all kinds, and engrossed himself in depravity. Donatien took a liking to him right away and so did Seonghwa. He’d never known a boy to be so bold and brash; he’d never met someone who scowled at priests, spat at city guards, and laughed in the face of authority figures. It intrigued him. He’d started sharing his partners with Hongjoong, but it seemed his brother only desired one person.

“Put it in me, Hwa. I want us to be one,” he’d said, whining and squirming as Seonghwa jerked him off during a hunting trip.

When Donatien went to prison for his lewd, lascivious behavior, which was illegal at the time, it became only them. Seonghwa and Hongjoong disappeared into their own world in that retreat. They were two demons who’d found each other in an ever-changing world. Neither of them had ever met another demon before, but everything they felt came so naturally. Him admiring Hongjoong’s narrow, upturned nose and soft lips as he slept felt as natural as watching the clouds drift by. They didn’t hide their love. They didn’t care if the church and the law spoke against it. Hongjoong and him shared a bond that nobody else understood.

Seonghwa logged into his computer, where a photo came up on the screen. San. Sweet San who loved freely and often. In the picture, he sat lounging by a window laughing at a joke Hongjoong told. His smile lit up his face and squinted his eyes, a look that made people swoon. San came along much later with slicked back hair and a fancy suit. Unlike Hongjoong and Seonghwa who arrived in Hell when they came of age, San had died in the living world. He didn’t like mulling over the details, and he never pushed for details. All he knew was his brother died young and brutally. Fifteen, skinnier than a twig with lost puppy eyes, the pair brought him into their ancient home right away. Seonghwa trained him to be the proper gentleman Hongjoong refused to be. He’d decided while they might be Asmodeus’s sons, they would not be scoundrels. They would uphold the family name and image. Hongjoong struggled with that most days.

San, on the other hand, was a golden boy. Not only physically attractive, and kind-hearted, he proved to be an athlete as well. His skill with weaponry remained unmatched in Seonghwa’s eyes. He’d seen sixteen-year-old San take down a full grown demon with quick, fluid movements. Some people found it hard to believe San was Asmodeus’s son with his skills. The skinny boy who’d come to his doorstep bloody and weeping turned into a golden god. Seonghwa and Hongjoong found it harder and harder to ignore his physical beauty as he grew. They’d taken to watching him bathe through peepholes or finding excuses to get him naked in front of them. Seonghwa never admitted he’d bought the hot tub as another way to admire his sweet brother’s body.

“If you wanted to watch me jerk off, you could’ve just asked,” he’d said when he confronted them in the lounge one night.

The three of them became inseparable.

“Seonghwa,” the call came after three knocks on the door. An older demon with stark white hair and olive green skin stood in a tweed suit in the doorway. “How are you, old boy?”

“Wishing I’d stayed home,” he snorted with a laugh that the man joined.

“After seeing that lovely mate of yours, I don’t blame you,” he said. “Urik’s called a department meeting. He says it’s urgent.”

“I’ll be there.”

The man disappeared, and Seonghwa thought about what he’d said. ‘Mate’. He’d heard many people refer to you with the primitive term. He thought about what you’d both talked about, and it made him fonder of you.

He wished he’d given in to you.

****

“Minos dares to say we have been misplacing prisoners.”

“What does he mean by that? We are the ones who see into their misdeeds and only give suggestions.”

The meeting would never end. Seonghwa leaned back in the leather chair, eyes constantly glancing over to the clock on the wall. It’d be eleven in fifteen minutes. In fifteen minutes, he’d have you in his arms. In fifteen minutes, he’d be entirely consumed by you. But first, he must suffer the most boring part of his job: manager meetings.

This could’ve been an email.

“He believes we’re being too careless with our suggestions. He says a person who should’ve been sentenced to Wrath was instead sentenced to Pride.”

“Yes, because the prisoners carried out their misdeeds through their pride.”

He wondered if you’d cum at all. You must have. It’s been three hours since he left home. You’ve likely already used up your two free orgasms by now. Seonghwa liked imagining Jongho, drunk on your lips, pleasuring you as long as he physically could. He already knew you could go for hours with your heightened sexual appetite and stamina. Seonghwa thought of every time he laid with you and his brothers. With the natural lust of demons and the constant burning desire combined with your special kisses, the four of you made love almost nonstop. Once Seonghwa tasted one of you, he found it hard to stop.

“But he claims the wrath outweighs the pride.”

He couldn’t wait to taste you. He might take off the entire day just to have you to himself.

“Seonghwa, what do you make of these claims?”

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked up. At a long table in a conference room, Seonghwa sat with the heads of departments and his boss, a demon named Urik. The whole table turned when Urik addressed him. He must have appeared too in thought.

“That Minos is being his usual stubborn, complicated self,” he answered, grasping at an answer. “For thousands of years, he’s made claims that we’re not working to his standards. He sits in his chair, passes judgment, and acts as if it’s our fault if the prisoner is sent back. The man takes no responsibility for his own faults.”

“As I have said,” claimed another demon, Lucinda. “We cannot take him so seriously, Urik. His mind is going and his judgment wanes.”

Urik, broad and red, nodded with his hands clasped on the desk. “Regardless, Prince Belphegor has commanded all of us to undergo training courses-”

“-Training courses?” exclaimed Bazil, green and horned. “Uh-uh, I will not retake a bunch of baby courses because Minos has convinced the Prince of Sloth that we do not take our jobs seriously. I am extremely thorough with my digs, and give the most sensible, honest suggestions I can make.”

“Regardless, it is The Prince’s command and we must abide by it,” said Urik. He picked up a stack of binders that he handed to Lucinda. Seonghwa watched them be passed around the table. “These are the recommended courses. It details everything from basic training to advanced digging techniques. I want you to relay this order to your teams, and make sure they are done by the weekend.”

“You’re not serious?” asked an elderly, pot-bellied demon named Arthur. “My team has been working all week on a new batch of prisoners. They can’t be expected to put that aside to work on this.”

“They will have to find the time,” said Urik.

Seonghwa opened the binder to study the different courses. It’d be like Minos, Judge of Souls, to lay blame on the sin seers. He wondered who’d placed you. Personally, he would’ve sent you to Greed rather than Lust. A good chunk of your actions were fueled by a desire for more: more money, more power, and more respect. It could be argued that you enjoyed the feeling of triumph and superiority over the actual material rewards.

“Urik, you know how ridiculous this is,” said Lucinda.

He then thought of your behavior this morning. You’d ensnared him with your charms and pouting, and he almost gave into it. You loved how sex made you feel, and not only the physical reactions either. It makes you feel desirable. It gave you the power others tried having over you. He knew he was powerless against your charms. Seonghwa could still smell your essence in his nose, driving him back into those desires again. If you’d lived in his time, he’d never want anyone but you and Hongjoong ever again.

“I understand your frustration, but we cannot ignore a royal command,” said Urik. “I want all courses finished by Friday. You're dismissed.”

The group groaned and left the table. Seonghwa knew his own team wouldn't like the extra workload. They worked exclusively in the 4th and 5th sectors of Limbo, where souls are determined before being sent to Minos for final judgment. Seonghwa heard his department only existed because of Minos's constant deaths and rebirths. He pictured the aged god sitting upon a golden throne, nearly blind and half-mad. Members of his team already complained that he sent too many people back, and that he didn't know one day from the next. When Seonghwa tells them about Belphegor's command, they'll be upset for sure.

Walking through the busy office, Seonghwa went to the elevator and punched in his floor number. His mind floated back to you, and wondering what you might be doing. He liked the idea of Jongho still in your bed, the both of you pleasuring one another every way possible. However, realistically, you would’ve stopped by now. He hoped Jongho hadn’t tired you out too much. Seonghwa didn’t want you to perform if you didn’t feel up to doing it.

“The nerve of him, huh?” Lucinda entered the elevator after him, irritated. “I can't wait until the bastard croakes. Then Urik takes over while he’s gone.”

“It can't be long now,” said Seonghwa. His body buzzed with anticipation. In several minutes, he’ll be finding you on his desk wet and needy. He hoped, at least. “He already can't stand up.” Your pussy is so pretty when in the light, especially when wet.

“Too bad he doesn't have the cane yet. I'd have a laugh knocking it out from under him.” The two shared a half-hearted laugh, then she said, “I saw your mate the other day.”

“Huh?”

“Your mate,” she repeated. “The Princess Lilith’s granddaughter. She's an absolute gem. I ran into her at the hardware place buying more gardening supplies. She's such a delight. You must bring her to the office party this year.”

“I wouldn't dream of taking anyone else.”

There was that word again: ‘Mate’. It had him thinking about it again.

“But, I suppose you call her your ‘girlfriend’. All you young people use that word now.”

“It means the same thing,” they got off on the floor together. “They're interchangeable.”

“Barely,” she replied. “Girlfriend sounds so informal and distant. Mate,” she grinned fondly, “That one sounds much deeper.”

“I suppose.”

Lucinda had a point. He thought about it as they parted ways. The word ‘girlfriend’ implied some kind of distance between the both of you. ‘Mate’ carried a sense of closeness: it meant a deep connection that others couldn’t explain. He liked the idea of you possibly being “The One”. His father never expected him to marry, and his mother's opinion didn't matter at all. Yet, the idea of you with his last name did not sound so bad.

The tortured cries and pleas of the prisoners pulled him from his thoughts. Walking into a long hallway, he could hear his coworkers and their prisoners behind the doors. It became white noise at this point. He knew behind the steel doors, dozens of sinners fresh from the gates laid strapped to tables as a demon burrowed into their minds. Piece by piece, the demon pulled back the layers to see right into their soul. Seonghwa understood it to be an excruciating process to undergo. He’d seen it in the faces of those in his chair; he took in how they screamed and begged for mercy. He only laughed. Mercy? In Hell? Ridiculous.

The excitement fueled the arousal slowly rising inside him. Behind the door, he assumed, you’d be sitting on his desk with your legs apart for him. He turned the knob slowly and looked inside.

As he hoped, you sat propped up on your hands with your back to the door. By the way your feet were placed on the edge, he knew anyone who might be looking out the windows will see you splay out for them. You’d put on the outfit he requested, kindling his hardon. He closed and locked the door and walked over to you.

“There’s my sweet kitten,” he said, moving around the desk to you. “Oh, don’t you make a delicious sight?”

No panties, as requested, your smooth sex glistened in the sunlight coming from the wide windows. Without your bra, the shirt accentuated the natural curves of your breasts and the peaks of your nipples. You bit back your lip when he slid his hand from your knee to your inner thigh. He gave it a small squeeze as he stood in front of you. Seonghwa took a moment to caress and massage them in their bent position. You trembled each time his thumbs pressed to the sides of your sex before pulling back. His hands left your thighs for your sides, running up the dips of your waist to the bottoms of your breasts. He couldn’t stop himself from grazing your nipples through the shirt. He looked at your reactions while he lightly teased them.

Eyes heavy with need and lust, you bit your lower lip to keep your moans from coming out. He saw the way your body slightly twitched whenever he touched your lower stomach, moving dangerously close to the bent position of your body. He sailed up your arms, moving up your shoulders to your neck where he pulled you in for a gentle kiss. There, he licked and tugged at your bottom lip with great risk to his own stability. He unfolded you from your position, letting your legs hang from the desk as his arms went around you. Being this close to you, surrounded by your sweet scent and feeling your soft skin made him understand what Lucinda meant. A mate is a partner for life. A mate is someone who's just as much a part of you as you are of them. Seonghwa slid a hand up the nape of your neck, touching your scalp and giving the roots a tender tug to keep you in place. As much as he loved his brothers, he found himself falling deeper in love with you.

Neither of you said anything as he removed your top, putting it to the side and giving him access to your naked chest.

“Undress me,” he said between kisses. “I want to feel your skin on mine.”

You started with his tie, removing the expensive gold pin and putting it on the desk. Heat flared in the middle of your passionate kisses. Seonghwa wanted to throw you onto the desk and pound you into the wood. Yet, he controlled himself. Donatien taught him all about self-control and restraint. He learned never to hasten the act. Drawing it out and letting it slowly simmer over time added to the bliss of the orgasm later. Seonghwa exhaled deeply once you unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders as you explored his torso. Your hands ignited him. Your delicate fingers traced the lines of his abdomen, sliding up them to his broad chest where your thumbs brushed his nipples. He shut his eyes to savor your lips dotting his neck and chest. He took in the softness sucking on the base of his neck; it was enough to bring a bit of pain before licking. The center of his pants grew tighter and more restrictive as his cock hardened. The feeling of your bodies brushing his stoked that further. He groaned when you nipped your teeth at his nipple, causing him to bring you to kiss him again. This didn’t stop you from pinching it instead.

“How long?” he asked in a raspy breath, unable to stop kissing you.

“Not too long,” you answered.

“Did you cum at all?”

“Once. I wanted to save the other ones for you.”

He groaned after hearing this. Making a trail of kisses to your breasts, he took one nipple in his mouth. You started undoing his belt and the fly of his pants, whining at the slightest suggestion of his cock close to your hands. Your nipple hardly moved as his tongue flicked and rolled around it. The wrinkled areola tightened up to the pert tips, which he suckled softly before giving it a tender nibble. A low hum left him once you tugged down his pants, leaving his underwear on for the moment.

“What else did you two do?” he asked, switching sides to repeat the action.

“I licked and stroked him back,” you said, grabbing him through his underwear. “I used my strap on him.”

“You did?” the picture he created pushed his hand between your thighs.

“You said he couldn’t fuck my holes. You didn’t say I couldn’t fuck his.”

He chuckled through his teeth, giving your nipple another bite that made you jump. “Clever,” he groaned with one more suckle before gently laying you on the desk. “I bet he loved every second of it.”

“He did,” you said, straightening yourself on it. “Since he asked me to fuck him a few more times. I wish you’d been there too. Then you could’ve fucked me while I fucked him.”

“There’s always time for that,” he said, kissing down to the waistband of your skirt. “Right now, I want you to myself.”

He took a seat at the desk, and raised your skirt up to your stomach. Being close to your sex this way made him salivate. Your velvety folds showed small glimmers of your arousal, while your clit remained hard underneath its hood. Pulling at the top, Seonghwa stretched it upwards before giving it a gentle lick. You gripped at the bunched fabric of your skirt, ready for the waves of pleasure you’d soon be feeling. He loved knowing you anticipated it. He loved knowing how his tongue and fingers drove you over the edge over and over. It was like the prostitutes who used to come through his home: he’d be relentless and merciless when it came to that special place inside them. It made him feel powerful. It gave him control over them.

He kept your pussy in this position as he lapped at it at a measured pace. You whimpered and cried out each time he swirled his tongue around your clit, jerking when he zigzagged over it right after. He licked down to your entrance, where more fluids leaked out when he dipped his tongue into it. The rim of your entrance opened easily at the tip sticking inside, your bumpy ridged walls nearly pulling at it each time he pushed inwards. He couldn’t get enough of your sweet taste. He’d choose your pussy over the finest meal Cook could make for him anytime.

You cried out when his fingers replaced his tongue. He’d seen loads of pussy in his life, but none as nice as yours. Perhaps it’s because he loved you, so he admired yours the most. Maybe your pussy really is the best he’s ever seen. Either way, he lazily traced the swollen lips with his tongue, barely grazing the aching clit and entrance. He dipped his fingers to the second knuckle to hear you mutter a curse under your breath. Seonghwa grew harder the longer he played with your sex. He rolled his fingers side to side over the nub of your clit; he drooled onto it to slicken the soaked puffy lips. You started playing with your breasts, needing more pleasure on top of what he’d given you, and he didn’t stop you.

“You’re always so tight for me, Kitten,” he groaned when he slipped two fingers in sideways, watching your hole stretch to accommodate them. “Do you keep it that way for me?”

You nodded, “I don’t use toys or fingers when I touch myself. I only rub it so I keep your holes stay extra tight for you.”

He moaned internally when you said ‘your holes’ instead of ‘my holes’. The thought of owning you even without your collar made him harder. He fingered you slowly, watching his long fingers gleam with your juices. “How thoughtful,” he said, spitting on your clit again to spread it around. “All of my holes?” he asked, standing to push his wet fingers into your mouth. “Even your ass?” you only nodded while you sucked your juices from his fingers. “Let me see it then. Roll over for me.”

You stopped sucking fingers and shifted around until you were on your stomach. The anticipation made you grind into the edge of his desk, legs automatically spreading to give him more access to you. He dragged his hand up the backs of your thighs to then squeeze the bottom curves of your ass. When he gave one side a light tap, you twitched. Seonghwa continued doing this, keeping the slaps light and tender. He groped one cheek, seeing the fatty flesh knead like dough to his hand. Lifting and spreading them apart, he groaned seeing both entrances exposed to him now. Your ass hole, clenched closed and hairless, fluttered when he slipped his tongue from perineum to the crack of your bottom. You trembled, but forced yourself to remain still. His tongue circling the rim of your ass, the other went back to caressing your dripping sex. You moaned when both digits stroked against your taut walls.

“Did Jongho lick you here, Kitten?” he asked, sliding over the rim of your hole while pushing two fingers deep inside you.

“Ye-yes,” you whimpered.

“Did he fuck you here?”

“No.”

“Good girl,” he praised, flicking at it the way you enjoyed. He knew just the vulgarity of the act aroused you. “I’m putting a plug in you the next time I take you out,” he promised, stopping to watch your pussy stretch around his fingers. “Just so I can watch you squirm from it being up inside you while you sit. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” you said, “Yes, so much.”

He chuckled, “Dirty slut. You’d do just about anything, huh? There’s nothing off limits for you, is there?”

“Hardly.”

He gave your ass a light tap before sticking his tongue into your ass in time with his fingers. It was then he noticed it. Your ass grew just as wet as your pussy. He knew his servants’ backsides self-lubricated when stimulated, but yours never had. Perhaps it did and he didn’t notice with the lubricant and saliva applied beforehand. It tasted just as good. Seonghwa’s cock twitched against his stomach realizing that your body truly was made for fucking. You were a beautiful half-succubus with a gorgeous body that carried the endurance and stamina to keep up with the appetite of a full-blooded demon. It made him want you more.

“Master,” you breathed, clutching the edge of the desk as his fingers continued penetrating and circling your insides, “Please don’t stop. That feels so good.”

“I know it does,” he pushed both fingers in deep, watching your legs kick up as he wriggled his fingers in your pussy. “There’s nothing my kitten loves more than having both holes filled at the same time.” He kept pulling them in and out, listening to you become a whimpering mess in front of him. “It’s a shame I wasn’t blessed with two cocks,” he said, withdrawing them to go back to rubbing. “Then I can fuck these at the same time.” Still fingering your sex, he bent down to flick his tongue on your ass hole. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful, Kitten?” he asked, listening to you moan at his warm tongue. “Wouldn’t you like me having two dicks for you to play with?”

“God, yes. Oh fuck, that’d be a dream.”

“I happen to know people who do,” he sneered, standing up from his chair. “They’d love to meet you,” he slapped your ass again before finally pulling his dick out. He let it rest on your ass, groaning at the contact and how large he looked in comparison. “You’d have no problem taking both if you can take mine,” he said, spitting on his tip to rub it over your leaking hole.

The sudden touch made you twitch and kick a leg up. Sensitive too. He loved that about you. The image of you taking more than one always excited him. He slid his head down to your pussy, rubbing his throbbing tip on it in slow circles.

“Master,” you whined, “Put it inside me, please. I need it so bad, please.”

“Is that right?”

In all honesty, he tortured himself as much as he did you. As he sunk up to the head, he hissed through his teeth. Your heat tried pulling him further, with your hips pushing back into his before he held you in place.

“I asked you a question, Kitten,” he said, “Is that right?”

“Yes, it is.”

“How badly do you need it?” he withdrew to rub himself against your clit.

“Really, really, really bad.”

“Show me,” he said, removing his hands from your waist and lining himself up with you. He brushed the very tip of himself to you, “Show me how bad you’ve been wanting it.”

Your lack of hesitation amused him. Instant satisfaction came when you sunk your aching cunt onto his cock. His dick sliding in and out, filling and stretching you while you bounced against his hips became a mesmerizing sight. You kept your hands flat on the desk, legs further apart as you backed up against him as much as you could. Each time his tip reached your g-spot, he felt you grip him tighter. The tight sensation started in his balls, threatening to rise up to the base of his cock where his dick suddenly became sensitive. Pulling your buttocks apart, he spat onto your ass and started rubbing it. Slick, clear fluid lubricated your hole enough for him to slide two fingers inside. Neither pushing or pulling, he kept his fingers knuckle deep as a toy might. This had you grinding and rocking up to his balls, enjoying the whirl of sensations he created for you.

Soon enough, Seonghwa saw you clawing his desk and shuddering as your orgasm approached. This urged him to hold you by the hip and start thrusting with the same speed as before. The sound of his balls slapping your throbbing clit and your ass hitting his hips brought you right to the brink.

“May I cum, Ma-M-Master?” you whined.

“Yes, you may, Kitten.”

With a few more thrusts, your entire body stiffened at the climax. Thighs shaking, hips desperately meeting his own, your back arched as you moaned freely. He felt your pussy thickly coat him in your cum, making a sticky mess over his balls in the process. Seonghwa kept going even when your orgasm started subsiding.

“On your knees,” he ordered, taking in deep breaths as he pulled out. “I’m going to cum down your pretty throat.”

Immediately, you got into position and opened your mouth. Hands holding you by the hair, Seonghwa shoved himself inside your mouth. The back of your throat squeezed and hummed around his tip, causing him to hold you there for several seconds at a time. His orgasm finally arrived when you cupped and rubbed his ballsack. Your warm hand smearing your cum over each sensitive side had Seonghwa burying his dick deep. Spurts of thick cum squirted into your mouth, and you did your best to swallow them quickly. His dick became incredibly tender to your soft lips and tongue, twitching as each stroke brought out more cum for you to taste. When he pulled out, you spat what remained in your mouth back onto his tip to stroke him with it. He watched in amazement, panting as his body relaxed, as you licked and sucked every drop you could.

“I want you to keep sucking it,” he said, slapping his dick onto your tongue. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He sat back in his chair as you continued sucking his cock. Seonghwa’s first orgasm didn’t soften him at all. It would take a bit more than that to satisfy him. Since you barely took him out of your mouth, the combination of spit, cum and precum created a creamy substance that leaked around your lips. You used it to jerk him off in tandem with your mouth. He could tell you wanted him to give you more. He noticed the hand you’d put between your legs and it excited him.

“Does sucking me off turn you on, baby?” he asked, stuffing himself into your throat before you could answer. He chuckled softly when you nodded, bobbing your head up and down but never taking him out completely. “Enough to cum while you’re doing it?” he smiled at your eager moans, and realized how you lightly and rapidly brushed your clit. “I want you to do that for me,” he said, starting to guide your head on his dick, “I want my slut to cum while I’m fucking her mouth. I’d love that more than anything.”

Your obedience astounded him. He loved your duality. With Jongho, you’re a dominating mistress who keeps him on edge for hours. With him, you’re a submissive eager to serve. Seonghwa’s jaw fell, realizing you’d kept yourself on the edge of another orgasm the entire time. He saw it in quaking shoulders and high muffled moans. He held you in place again as he took control, eager to make you cum from oral alone. In a few more thrusts, you began trembling and moaning around his girth. Even through the gagging and choking, he knew your orgasm when he saw it. You wriggled around on the floor, unable to get a hold on yourself as you came on your hand. When you finished, Seonghwa pulled out and brought you onto his lap. By your hips, he started pushing into your tight walls once more.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he groaned, hearing the slick sounds of your cum mixing with his own inside you. “You’re such a good whore,” he said, not holding back with his thrusts. “A good whore that’s going to keep making me cum until I say so.”

“Because your dick is so good, Master,” you said in his ear, holding onto his shoulders until your nails dug into his skin. “It’s big and thick and-a-and you fuck me so good and for so long. Please, keep fucking me. Make my pussy your cocksleeve to-to use whene-ever you want.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he growled, getting closer to another orgasm, the oversensitivity starting to hit him down to his toes. “I will.”

“Do it. Do it, please.”

He wrapped his arms around you, smacking and grabbing your ass as you rode him in his chair. He teased and fingered your ass to his heart’s content before he felt his next climax approaching. You kept riding, not breaking or faltering, and moaned when more hot cum sprayed over your insides. Seonghwa’s head fell back as his body arched to the overwhelming sensations taking over. Every part of him became sensitive to the touch, adding and pushing his orgasm to a boiling point. Even as he started coming down, you kept going. It seemed neither of you could stop. Your bodies became too accustomed to the pleasure, and you found yourselves addicted to it.

But all good things must come to an end. After bringing each other to a third and final orgasm on the floor, Seonghwa pulled out and fell onto the carpet beside you. Neither of you spoke for a long while. Every muscle in his body softened into jelly, and he knew he’d be laying there far past his lunch time. Strangely enough, this was his favorite part. The content, euphoric feeling in a post-orgasm glow was better than any wine or drug he could take. It felt better when it happened to be with someone he loved.

“Come home with me,” you said hoarsely under a whisper. Too much talking often aggravates your itchy throat. “Please?”

“Will you be my mate?” he asked, ignoring your plea.

You didn’t answer right away, which brought on a pang of dread. He thought of what you said, and feared it might’ve been to lure him into sex with you. But then he felt your fingers slide between his as you spoke.

“Yes.”

The two of you wiped each other’s mouth with your discarded clothes, and shared a soft kiss. He’d found another mate to join his brothers, and he’d never let you go now.

***

A/N: awww some fluffy stuff after all the sad stuff <3 I really appreciate all the love you guys are giving this fic. It's really great. Like and reblog as always <3

#pirateeznet #ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #park seonghwa #park seonghwa smut #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x yn #seonghwa ateez #pretty lady series

384 notes · View notes

reidmarieprentiss · 4 months ago

Text

Second Chances and Serendipity

Summary: Y/N is Will's sister, she meets Spencer when Henry is born, but she is already seeing someone else.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Warnings: bisexual Y/N

Category: fluff

Word count: 4.1k

main masterlist

The antiseptic smell of the hospital filled the air as Y/N made her way through the maze of corridors to the maternity ward. Her excitement bubbled over; her brother Will and his girlfriend JJ were about to welcome their first child into the world. The anticipation was electric, and she could hardly contain her enthusiasm.

As she approached the reception desk, Y/N's eyes scanned the area for any familiar faces. Not seeing anyone she recognized, she stepped up to the desk and smiled at the receptionist.

"Hi, I’m here for Will LaMontagne and Jennifer Jareau. My name is Y/N," she said, her voice a mix of excitement and nerves. "Do you know where I can find them?"

Before the receptionist could respond, a tall, lanky man with tousled brown hair and glasses stepped forward. He had been sitting in the waiting area, absorbed in a thick book, but Y/N's question had caught his attention.

"Excuse me," he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "Did you say you're here for Will and JJ?"

Y/N turned to face him, her eyes widening slightly. "Yes, I'm Will's sister, Y/N."

The young man smiled, "I’m Spencer Reid, one of JJ's colleagues and friends. Nice to meet you."

Y/N smiled back, feeling a warmth in his presence. "Nice to meet you too, Spencer. This is such an exciting day."

"It really is," Spencer agreed, his smile growing. "Would you like to sit with me while we wait? I can fill you in on what's been happening."

"That sounds great," Y/N replied, grateful for the company.

They walked over to the waiting area and took seats next to each other. Spencer closed his book, giving Y/N his full attention.

"So, how's everything going so far?" Y/N asked, settling into her chair.

"JJ and Will are doing well. JJ went into labor a few hours ago, so it shouldn’t be too much longer now," Spencer explained.

"That's good to hear," Y/N said, a sigh of relief escaping her. "I can’t wait to meet my nephew."

Spencer smiled warmly. "He’s going to have a lot of love in his life, that’s for sure."

As they waited, the conversation between them flowed effortlessly. Y/N was fascinated by Spencer’s work with the BAU and his impressive intellect. They talked about everything from books and movies to their favorite childhood memories.

"You know," Spencer said, leaning in slightly, "it's not often I meet someone who can keep up with my random facts."

Y/N laughed, her eyes twinkling. "Well, you haven’t heard all of mine yet. Did you know that octopuses have three hearts?"

"Really?" Spencer's eyebrows shot up. "That’s fascinating! One heart pumps blood through its organs, and the other two pump it through the gills."

"Exactly!" Y/N beamed, enjoying their playful exchange.

Time seemed to stand still as they delved deeper into their conversation, sharing stories and jokes as if they had known each other for years. The connection between them was undeniable, a magnetic pull that neither could resist.

Eventually, the door to the waiting room opened, and a nurse stepped in, her smile broad. "Will and JJ would like to introduce you to baby Henry."

Spencer and Y/N stood up, both feeling a little reluctant to end their conversation but equally eager to meet the newest addition to the family.

They entered the room, where Will and JJ were beaming with pride, baby Henry cradled in JJ’s arms. But even amidst the joy and celebration, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for what she felt today with Spencer. The connection had been so strong, so immediate, that it felt almost surreal.

Will looked up, his face lighting up even more when he saw his sister. "Hey, Y/N! Did you and Spencer get a chance to meet?"

"Yes, we did," Y/N replied with a smile, glancing at Spencer who gave a small nod in agreement.

"Great," Will said, looking around. "So, where's Stephanie? I thought she was coming with you."

At the mention of her girlfriend, Y/N felt a slight tightening in her chest. She adored Stephanie, but today's encounter with Spencer had stirred unexpected feelings. "She couldn't make it," Y/N said, trying to keep her tone light. "She had to work late, but she sends her love and promises to visit soon."

Spencer's expression shifted almost imperceptibly, his smile faltering just a bit. He looked away, focusing on baby Henry, but Y/N noticed the change. The realization that she was already taken seemed to hit him harder than it should after one meeting.

"That's too bad," Will said, but he was quickly distracted by Henry's small movements. "Come on over, meet your nephew."

Y/N moved closer to the bed, her heart melting as she looked at the tiny baby in JJ's arms. "Oh, he's perfect," she whispered, gently touching Henry's hand.

JJ smiled up at her. "He’s stolen my heart already."

Spencer stood by the foot of the bed, his hands in his pockets. "He’s very lucky," he said softly.

Y/N glanced over at Spencer, feeling a mix of emotions. She couldn't deny the spark between them, but she also couldn't ignore her commitment to Stephanie. It was a confusing tangle of feelings that left her unsure of what to do next.

As the family cooed over Henry, Y/N found herself standing next to Spencer again. He seemed quieter now, more reserved, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of regret.

"I'm really glad we met today, Spencer," she said softly, hoping to bridge the sudden gap between them.

"Me too," he replied, his voice gentle but distant. "Congratulations on becoming an aunt. Henry's very lucky to have you in his life."

"Thank you," Y/N said, wishing she could find the right words to explain the confusion in her heart. But with Will and JJ so happy and Spencer standing just out of reach, it didn't seem like the right time.

They stayed in the room a while longer, sharing the joy of Henry's arrival. But the undercurrent of unresolved feelings between Y/N and Spencer lingered, a quiet reminder of the unexpected connection they'd shared and the complicated emotions that now accompanied it.

Over the next few years, Y/N and Spencer didn't have another chance to meet. Their paths never crossed again, but Y/N frequently heard stories about Spencer from JJ, Will, and the women of the BAU. Each tale only deepened her admiration for him, painting a picture of a man who was not only brilliant but also kind, compassionate, and remarkably dedicated.

"Spencer is something else," JJ would often say with a smile, recounting another of his incredible feats in solving a case or his sweet gestures towards his friends. "He’s always the first to lend a hand, and he’s so good with Henry. You should see them together."

Y/N would listen intently, her heart aching with each story. She couldn't shake the memory of their brief yet intense connection at the hospital. It was a feeling that lingered, haunting her thoughts and dreams.

Meanwhile, her relationship with Stephanie was becoming increasingly strained. They had grown apart over the years, their once strong bond now fraying at the edges. Stephanie was often busy with work, and their interactions became more perfunctory than affectionate. Despite this, they had gotten engaged, a decision that felt more like a logical step rather than a joyous celebration of their love.

Y/N often found herself lost in thought, wondering what her life would have been like if she had pursued a different path. The memories of Spencer, the way he made her feel so seen and understood in those few short hours, kept resurfacing.

One evening, as she sat alone in the living room, Y/N stared at the engagement ring on her finger, feeling a heavy weight in her chest. Stephanie was working late again, and the apartment felt eerily quiet. The silence gave her too much time to think, to reflect on her feelings and the growing disconnect between her and her fiancée.

She picked up her phone, scrolling through old messages and photos, and paused on a picture of Spencer from Henry's first birthday party that JJ had sent the lady’s group chat. They were both smiling, caught in a candid moment of laughter. She remembered how her heart had fluttered whenever she was near him.

Her mind wandered back to the stories JJ had shared recently. Spencer had rescued a kidnapped child, his quick thinking and bravery saving the day once again. She could hear JJ's voice, full of pride and admiration for her friend.

"He’s one of a kind," JJ had said, her eyes sparkling. "We’re all lucky to have him."

Later that evening, when Stephanie returned from work, Y/N took a deep breath and sat down with her on the couch. The conversation was long and emotional, filled with tears and difficult truths.

They both acknowledged the changes in their relationship and the love they once shared that had slowly faded.

In the end, they decided to take a break, giving themselves the space to reevaluate their relationship and their future. It was a painful decision, but one that felt right for both of them.

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the Rossi estate. It was the perfect evening for JJ and Will's backyard wedding, and the atmosphere was filled with love and celebration. Y/N arrived, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. She had looked forward to this day for months, not just to celebrate her brother and JJ but also for the possibility of seeing Spencer again.

As she wandered through the beautifully decorated garden, Y/N’s heart raced with anticipation. She exchanged pleasantries with other guests, her eyes occasionally scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who had been on her mind for so long.

Finally, near a cluster of trees adorned with twinkling fairy lights, she saw him. Spencer stood slightly apart from the crowd, adjusting his tie and looking as endearing as ever. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she felt like that same girl in the hospital waiting room, her heart fluttering uncontrollably.

Gathering her courage, she made her way towards him. Spencer looked up as she approached, his eyes widening in surprise before a warm smile spread across his face.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice soft with a hint of disbelief. “Hi.”

“Hi, Spencer,” Y/N replied, her smile matching his. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has,” he said, nervously tucking his hair behind his ears. “You look… you look amazing.”

Y/N felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

They both laughed, the awkwardness of the moment breaking the ice. The sound of music and laughter filled the air around them, but they seemed to be in a bubble of their own.

“So, how have you been?” Spencer asked, genuinely curious.

“I’ve been good, a lot has changed,” Y/N replied, thinking back to her recent breakup. “And you?”

“Busy with work, as usual,” Spencer said with a chuckle. “But it’s nice to take a break for something as special as this.”

“Absolutely,” Y/N agreed, feeling the old connection between them starting to resurface. “I’ve heard so much about you from JJ and Will. It’s like I’ve been keeping up with your life through them.”

Spencer’s smile turned a bit shy. “Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you too. JJ’s quite the storyteller.”

They both laughed again, the nervousness ebbing away as they fell into a familiar rhythm. The conversation flowed, filled with giggles and shared memories, despite the years that had passed since their first meeting.

Spencer glanced down at his feet, then back up at Y/N, his expression more serious. “You know, I’ve thought about you a lot over the years.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “I’ve thought about you too, Spencer.”

They shared a quiet moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Then, with a smile that was both nervous and excited, Spencer extended his hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

Y/N’s smile widened, her heart soaring. “I’d love to.”

They moved towards the makeshift dance floor, the music wrapping around them as they swayed together. The awkwardness melted away, replaced by a feeling of rightness, as if this was where they were always meant to be.

And as they danced under the twinkling lights, surrounded by the love and joy of JJ and Will’s wedding, Y/N felt a sense of happiness and hope that she hadn’t felt in a long time. The warmth of Spencer’s presence, the ease of their conversation, and the gentle rhythm of their dance all made the world outside disappear.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Spencer looked down at Y/N, his curiosity evident. “So, how’s Stephanie? I remember Will mentioning you two were engaged.”

Y/N felt a pang of guilt and hesitation. She had known this question would come up eventually, but it still caught her off guard. She took a deep breath, deciding to be honest. “Stephanie and I… well, we’re not together anymore.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, and he looked at her with concern. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s okay,” Y/N said softly, her gaze lowering for a moment. “We grew apart over the years. It became clear that we were more like friends than partners. We tried to make it work, but in the end, we realized it was best to part ways.”

Spencer nodded, his expression thoughtful. “That must have been difficult.”

“It was,” Y/N admitted, meeting his eyes again. “But it was the right decision. We both needed to move on and find our own paths.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad you were able to make that decision, even though it was hard. You deserve to be happy.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her at his words. “Thank you, Spencer. That means a lot.”

They continued to dance, the conversation flowing naturally once more. Y/N shared some of the challenges she had faced during the breakup and how she had focused on rediscovering herself. Spencer listened intently, offering support and understanding.

“You know,” Y/N said after a while, “hearing all those stories about you from JJ and the others… it always made me wonder what could have been if we had kept in touch.”

Spencer smiled, a hint of shyness in his eyes. “I’ve wondered the same thing. I thought about reaching out a few times, but I wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate.”

Y/N laughed softly. “Well, here we are now. Maybe it’s fate giving us another chance.”

“Maybe it is,” Spencer agreed, his smile growing. “I’d like to think so.”

As the song ended, they stopped dancing but remained close, neither wanting to break the connection they had rekindled. Spencer hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

“Y/N, would you like to go out for coffee sometime? I mean, to catch up and… see where things go?”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “I’d love that, Spencer.”

They exchanged numbers, their fingers brushing slightly as they did. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, stories, and the comforting presence of each other.

When the night finally came to an end, and it was time to say goodbye, Y/N felt a sense of anticipation she hadn’t felt in years. As she walked away from the Rossi estate, she couldn’t help but smile, knowing that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in her life—one filled with hope, possibility, and the promise of something truly special with Spencer.

Y/N arrived at the cozy little café, a smile already tugging at her lips as she spotted Spencer sitting at a corner table, looking around nervously. The warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, blending with the soft hum of conversation and the gentle clinking of cups and saucers.

As she approached, Spencer’s eyes lit up, and he stood to greet her. “Y/N, hi! It’s so good to see you.”

“Hi, Spencer,” she replied, her heart fluttering with excitement. “It’s great to see you too.”

They hugged briefly, the familiarity of his presence already bringing a sense of comfort. They both sat down, and Spencer pushed a menu towards her.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I thought we could decide together,” he said, his smile shy but warm.

“Perfect,” Y/N said, glancing at the menu. “Do you have a favorite here?”

Spencer nodded. “The lavender latte is really good, and their pastries are amazing. I usually go for the almond croissant.”

“Lavender latte sounds interesting,” Y/N said, her curiosity piqued. “Let’s go with that and two almond croissants?”

“Great choice,” Spencer agreed, signaling the waiter.

Once their order was placed, they settled into an easy conversation. There was a lightness to their interaction, a mutual understanding that they didn’t want to waste any more time. The years apart had only intensified their appreciation for each other’s company.

“So, what have you been up to since the wedding?” Spencer asked, his eyes twinkling with genuine interest.

Y/N smiled, leaning in slightly. “I’ve been focusing on my career and spending a lot of time with my family. I’ve also picked up a few hobbies, like painting. It’s been really therapeutic.”

“Painting? That’s wonderful,” Spencer said, his admiration clear. “I’d love to see your work sometime.”

“I’d love to show you,” Y/N replied, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. “What about you? Any interesting cases lately?”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. “Every case is interesting in its own way, but some are definitely more challenging than others. It keeps me on my toes.”

“I can imagine,” Y/N said, her tone playful. “You’re always the hero, aren’t you?”

Spencer’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. “I wouldn’t say that, but I do my best.”

Their drinks and pastries arrived, and they took a moment to savor the first sip. The lavender latte was fragrant and soothing, and the croissants were buttery and flaky, just as Spencer had promised.

“This is amazing,” Y/N said, closing her eyes for a moment to enjoy the taste.

“I’m glad you like

it,” Spencer replied, his smile widening. “I’ve thought about this a lot, you know. Just being able to talk to you.”

“Me too,” Y/N said softly, her eyes meeting his. “It feels like we’ve been given a second chance, and I don’t want to waste it.”

“Neither do I,” Spencer said, his voice earnest.

They continued to talk, their conversation punctuated with laughter and shared memories. The flirtation was natural and effortless, each playful comment bringing them closer.

“You have a way of making even the most complicated things sound fascinating,” Y/N said, her eyes sparkling. “I could listen to you talk all day.”

Spencer chuckled, a hint of shyness in his demeanor. “And you have a way of making me feel like the most interesting person in the room.”

“You are,” Y/N said, her tone sincere. “At least to me.”

They finished their coffee, but neither made a move to leave. The connection between them was undeniable, and they both knew they wanted more.

“Y/N,” Spencer said, reaching across the table to take her hand, “I’m really happy we’re here together. It feels right.”

“It does,” Y/N agreed, her fingers intertwining with his. “I’ve thought about this moment so many times, and now that it’s here, it’s even better than I imagined.”

“Me too,” Spencer said, his voice filled with emotion. “I don’t want to rush things, but I also don’t want to let go of this feeling. Can we see each other again soon?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N replied without hesitation.

Y/N and Spencer left the café, their hands still intertwined, and strolled down the charming, tree-lined street. The morning air was cool and refreshing, and the bright sun cast a romantic glow on the cobblestone path.

As they walked, Y/N couldn’t help but steal glances at Spencer. There was something about the way his eyes sparkled and his smile turned shy that made her heart race. She decided to push the conversation into more playful, flirtatious territory.

“So, Dr. Reid,” she said, her voice light and teasing, “do you always sweep women off their feet with your extensive knowledge of, well, everything?”

Spencer chuckled, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I don’t know about that. I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her smile mischievous. “Oh, come on. You’ve got to have a few tricks up your sleeve. I bet you’ve got all sorts of interesting facts to impress the ladies.”

Spencer laughed, a sound that sent a pleasant shiver down Y/N’s spine. “Well, I do know a lot of facts, but I’m not sure how impressive they are. For example, did you know that kissing burns 6.4 calories a minute?”

Y/N stopped walking, turning to face him with a playful grin. “Is that so? And how exactly did you come across that piece of information?”

Spencer’s smile turned a bit sheepish. “Let’s just say I read a lot.”

She took a step closer, their bodies almost touching. “That’s quite an interesting fact. Do you have any others related to kissing?”

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly, his eyes locked onto hers. “Well, there’s also the fact that kissing releases dopamine, which can make you feel happy and relaxed.”

Y/N tilted her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Sounds like a pretty compelling argument for kissing.”

The tension between them was palpable, a magnetic pull drawing them closer. Spencer reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch sending sparks through her skin.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice filled with a mix of desire and nervousness. “I’ve thought about kissing you since the day we met.”

Y/N’s heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. “I’ve thought about it too, Spencer.”

They stood there, inches apart, the world around them fading away. Spencer’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb gently stroking her skin. The anticipation was electric, every moment stretching out as they savored the closeness.

Finally, Spencer leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a tentative, tender kiss. It was soft at first, a gentle exploration, but the heat between them quickly intensified. Y/N responded eagerly, her hands slipping around his neck as she pressed herself against him.

Spencer’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened. Their lips moved in perfect sync, a dance of passion and longing that had been building for years. The world around them disappeared, leaving only the two of them, lost in the moment.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other’s. Spencer’s eyes were dark with desire, and Y/N could feel her own pulse pounding in her ears.

“That was…” Spencer began, his voice husky.

“Amazing,” Y/N finished for him, a satisfied smile spreading across her face.

Spencer laughed softly, his hands still holding her close. “Yeah, amazing.”

They resumed walking, their hands clasped tightly together. The playful banter continued, but now there was an added layer of intimacy and sexual tension. Every touch, every glance carried the promise of more, a tantalizing hint of what was to come.

As they reached the end of the street, Y/N turned to Spencer with a playful glint in her eye. “So, Dr. Reid, are there any other fascinating facts you’d like to share with me?”

Spencer grinned, leaning in to whisper in her ear, lips brushing against it sensually. “I have plenty more where those came from. But maybe I should save some for our next date?”

Y/N laughed nervously, her heart racing with sudden arousal. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

They shared another lingering kiss under the shade of a tree, the promise of future dates and shared moments hanging in the air between them. In that moment, Y/N knew she had found something truly special with Spencer, and she couldn’t wait to see where their journey would take them. Her ring finger was feeling a little too light nowadays anyway.

#spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #bau family #bau team #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #jennifer jareau #will lamontagne #criminal minds fluff #fluff

180 notes · View notes