#location masterlist

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Fics Named After Locations Masterlist

a plaque on the wall in singapore (ao3) - apeirophobia calum/ashton, harry/louis T, 5k

Summary: "What do you do?"

"Other people's boyfriends, apparently."

(In which Ashton has no fucks left to give, and Louis finds he still has a few.)

Or, Louis isn't sure if he's hitting his lowest point, but at least he's hitting something.

Bali (ao3) - Ashstars1998 michael/calum M, 4k

Summary: "Late night dip?" Michael jumped a little from the disruption of the silence.

"Yeah, the sunburn was just killing me and I thought hey? Why not a swim to relieve the pain?" Michael splashed the water around him giving Calum that toothy grin of his.

Chevy Malibu (ao3) - Lostideas calum/ashton M, 4k

Summary: Ashton’s name pops up from the top of his screen, a whatsapp message reading ‘outside’. Calum gets up, walks to his windows and peeks through the curtains. He can see Ashton’s chevy a bit further down the street, headlights turned off.

Calum carries his docs in his left hand as he sneaks out of his room.

or; Ashton picks Calum up in his car late at night sometimes. They scream into the void and love each other.

chicago thighs (ao3) - allmywill michael/ashton M, 904

Summary: Ashton loves getting gifts from fans. He usually expects notes, candy, and stuffed animals; not lacy black panties with matching garters and thigh-high socks.

Destination: Perth (ao3) - onlythevoid luke/ashton T, 34k

Summary: The stranger swung into the seat next to him and sighed contentedly. Luke stole a glance from under his hat. It was a boy with light-brown messy hair, reminiscent of surfers Luke saw on the beach in Brisbane - he had a t-shirt on and black jeans, and fade-tint round-frame sunglasses propped on his straight nose.

The stranger caught Luke’s eyes.

“Hey?” The stranger asked. Shouldn’t have looked at him, Luke thought. Too late.

The stranger had set his sunglasses on his head and was peering below Luke’s cap. “Dude. You look terrible. Are you okay?”

Oh, so the stranger was one of those guys. Too friendly and ever-inquisitive. Yes, Luke looked like shit; he’d been crying for an hour at a time, every few hours, and all he’d had to eat in the past two days was some wet broccoli at the hospital and a bag of chips he’d bought that morning in Brisbane, and there were bruises all up and down his right arm from a car crash he wished he’d died in.

Luke didn’t say any of that. He prayed his voice would be steady and said, “Yes. Thanks.”

The messy-haired boy did not seem convinced. After a pause, he offered, “My name’s Ashton, by the way.”

Hotel California (ao3) - persephone_evans michael/luke G, 5k

Summary: Ashton wakes up in the most expensive hotel he's ever been in. Only problem, he can't remember how he got there or how he paid for it. But when he meets Calum and gets introduced to Michael and Luke, he doesn't care anymore.

a hotel california au that i wrote in a fit of depression

LA is not for the weak (ao3) - gardener luke/ashton M, 34k

Summary: Anybody who has ever lived in LA can second that the vibe is off. So much goes down in Los Angeles every single day that there is no way you can know everything about this city. Negative energies have the tendency to spread much quicker than positive ones, and it shows. Having lived in Los Angeles for as little as a couple of months, perhaps even less, can change you for the rest of your life. Some people recover from LA, almost as if it were a flu, but some people can never seem to snap out of it. For those of the last category, even if they are on the other side of the world, they are still in LA. Or, really, LA is still in them.

After everything that has happened in the past couple of years, Luke Hemmings is not doing okay. Los Angeles has really started to take its toll on him, and the constant pressure of being in the public eye doesn't make it any easier.

Ocean Avenue (ao3) - CliffordAffliction calum/ashton M, 20k

Summary: Cashton adventures based off of the song Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard

The Sun Is Burning Down Los Angeles (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum M, 40k

Summary: Calum probably signed a form saying he wouldn’t fall in love with the lead singer of the band. And he really doesn’t want to. What a cliché. It’s just…people get famous for a reason. This guy got famous for all the reasons.

Calum moves to LA to work for 5SOS.

With a New York State of Mind (I Wanna Take My Heart to the End of the World) (ao3) - Lxverxofmxne G, 1k

Summary: 4 strangers, same destination. One road trip, 14 hours max. — “This is going to sound really weird, but do you wanna road trip with me?”

The men stared at Luke weirdly. He shrugged before continuing.

Woke Up In Japan (ao3) - Shipalltheships (Destielshipper100) luke/ashton, calum/michael, shawn/everyone M, 2k

Summary: Shawn calls Ashton asking if he and the rest of the band would want to hang out. The four men put a mischievous plan into place.

Woke Up in Japan (ao3) - hollyster luke/ashton E, 4k

Summary: in which Ashton and Luke go on a picnic date and end up having sex in the shower

[thecutestgrotto]

Can I request some city themed dividers please? 🩵🌺

Hey anon, I assumed you meant the skylines with all the tall buildings? If not lmk and thanks for the request! 🩵🌸

Cityscapes

[themculibrary]

Stony Sharing A Bed At Clint's Farmhouse Masterlist

As Subtle As An Earthquake (ao3) - heartsandmuses T, 1k

Summary: The rest of the Avengers try to set Steve and Tony up during their stay at Clint's farm.

If only the team could get their heads out of their asses long enough to see that the two are already going out.

Before the Storm (ao3) - pensversusswords T, 1k

Summary: In which they get assigned the same room at Clint's farm. Cuddling and feelings ensue.

Come All You Young Lads, and Lay Me Down (ao3) - laudatenium E, 5k

Summary: It wasn't easy, feeling like this for someone he was barely friends with.

But it wasn't like life had ever been kind to him.

Feeding the Fire (ao3) - ghostlands M, 5k

Summary: Look, there’s different types of crushes. Steve is no stranger to them. You get a crush on the barista because she makes your latte with a cute picture of a cat in the foam. You get a crush on the delivery guy because he drove all the way out in a storm with twenty boxes of takeout for the tower (he was also pretty cute). You get a crush on someone when they flawlessly fire off multiple, tiny missiles right against your shield.

Crushes are supposed to be fun and fleeting, gone as quick as they come.

Heat (ao3) - gracerene E, 1k

Summary: Steve and Tony share a bed and end up getting more than they'd bargained for.

Hysteria When You’re Near (ao3) - StarSpangledBucky E, 8k

Summary: Tony has been pining for Steve for a while, calling off his relationship with Pepper. After their first encounter with Ultron, they're at the farmhouse and Tony can't help but want Steve more. It isn't until night arrives when Natasha tells Steve to stop by Tony's room, where he finds the brunette in need of some comfort. Steve's right there with him. Feelings are confessed and comfort sex ensues. By morning, the team can finally relax when they see that the pining has been resolved.

Insomnia for Dummies (ao3) - miss_whimsy G, 739

Summary: Set during Avengers: Age of Ultron. Tony can't sleep. Steve can't sleep. They talk instead.

In the Early Dawn (ao3) - starspangledsprocket M, 3k

Summary: Steve and Tony have to share a bed. They use this as an opportunity to talk. Talking leads to more.

Love Shack (ao3) - owltype E, 3k

Summary: Steve and Tony have to share a room. They share feelings, then they share themselves.

Morning Wood (ao3) - avengersincamphalfbloodstardis E, 2k

Summary: Steve wakes up on Clint's farm, with his arms around Tony, and a problem in his pants.

Spend a night (ao3) - MystikSpiral E, 1k

Summary: Tony and Steve have to bunk together, both of them need a way to sleep.

Tony Stark is a Blanket Stealer (ao3) - Heartithateyou G, 532

Summary: Tony and Steve are forced to share a bed at Clint's farmhouse and Tony has never been good at sharing.

Wake Up, Lovebirds (ao3) - Sampika G, 898

Summary: “If they’re going to be staying here, some of them are going to have to double up,” Laura pointed out.

Clint let out a chuckle, already seeing the looks on the other Avengers’ faces. “That’s not going to sell.”

Or:

That time Steve and Tony had to share a bed.

Waves you bring (ao3) - babesrgrs M, 2k

Summary: Of course, it was Steve and Tony who had to bunk together.

What Happens at the Farmhouse (ao3) - Heartithateyou G, 1k

Summary: When Tony and Steve are forced to share a room at Clint's farmhouse, certain secrets come to light.

[baeshijima]

includes : mydei

readers' favourite - ♪　author's favourite - ◊

— MYDEI

scenarios

spoils of war ◊

as heir to the throne, you were more than prepared to face the consequences of losing a war. your duty will forever remain for as long as you breathe, and if that meant bearing the weight of countless sacrificed souls and carrying it with you for the rest of your life, or even being forced to watch your land burn before your eyes was the price you had to pay, then so be it.

the last consequence you could have ever expected and were the least prepared for, however, was an offer of marriage from the ruler of the victorious nation.

[wizardingworldlibrary]

Random Locations In Harry Potter (2) Masterlist

part one

12 Grimmauld Place (ao3) - TemieTem sirius/remus G, 3k

Summary: Ever since he could remember Sirius Orion Black was expected to uphold the traditions of his family, down to never celebrating Halloween. So imagine his surprise when one faithful year, someone knocks on 12 Grimmauld Place for the first time.

A Family Outing (ao3) - orphan_account G, 1k

Summary: It’s the summer before Hermione’s first year at Hogwarts and she’s gone to Diagon Alley with her parents to get her school supplies. There’s so much for her to see, so many things to do, and a whole new world to get used to.

A Moment Alone (ao3) - T3Tohru hermione/harry E, 9k

Summary: Hermione and Harry spend an evening in the library together.

A Narrow Encounter (ao3) - damadape hermione/harry T, 7k

Summary: In the Forest of Dean, Harry stumbles upon the sword of Gryffindor, lying deep at the bottom of the forest pool. Yet as the locket’s chain starts to slowly choke him, whom do those arms that are closing around his chest really belong to?

A Slight Gambit (ao3) - nightfalltwen hermione/draco T, 5k

Summary: Hermione comes to Draco in Azkaban prison in need of his help. Draco has one stipulation. He wants his freedom.

A very Marauder’s Nativity (ao3) - andwatchyoutolerateit sirius/remus, alice/frank G, 3k

Summary: Or, the students who stayed back at Hogwarts for Christmas decide to have their very own nativity play…

Back at the Burrow (ao3) - publishingprince hermione/ginny E, 3k

Summary: Hermione and Ginny find themselves alone in Ginny’s room.

Escaping Malfoy Manor (ao3) - linebos28 draco/harry N/R, 4

Summary: When things go a little differently in Malfoy Manor because Draco sees a way out, and he takes it.

Godric’s Hollow (ao3) - shadowofrazia N/R, 1k

Summary: Harry hates Godric’s Hollow and the memories it brings, but he doesn’t hate his parents, and that’s why he’s here.

Here’s a toast (ao3) - Anonymous Cho/Harry M, 1k

Summary: Harry goes to Hogsmeade. Stuff happens.

Hogsmeade (ao3) - Brief_and_Dreamy scorpius/albus M, 10k

Summary: On the first of every month, Scorpius asks Rose out. It’s been a tradition since their fourth year and Rose always says no. Albus thinks it’s hilarious. When Rose finally says yes in their sixth year, however, it stops being funny.

jump on my train, my little train of thought (ao3) - anonymous hermione/ron G, 3k

Summary: Rose takes her first steps into become a witch, starting with getting on the Hogwarts Express. Her feelings get in the way.

Lavender Scented Bubbles (fanfiction.net) - Beccax95 hermione/draco M, 4k

Summary: Deep in the stacks of the Library, Hermione and Draco explore a fantasy.

Memories on the Platform (fanfiction.net) - Iris Kane scorpius/albus T, 3k

Summary: A cute, fluffy Albus/Scorpius fic of each year on the platform before they start a new year at Hogwarts.

Reparations (ao3) -Lomanaaeren draco/harry T, 16k

Summary: A Harry who works in Gringotts to pay for his break-in. A Draco who works as an Auror and gets no respect from his peers. A mysterious ancient artifact. Flirting. What more do you need to know?

Scenes from the Hufflepuff Common Room (ao3) - Slumber G, 2k

Summary: One day Pomona Sprout put up a bulletin board. Then her students made it their own.

Snapshots from Grimmauld Place (ao3) - DarthKrande T, 8k

Summary: Sirius has been moved under house arrest after Pettigrew’s survival had been discovered. Now he has a dementor to take care of, a journalist to handle, and twelve years to catch up with.

The Chamber of Secrets (ao3) - Anoonie G, 4k

Summary: Someone stole Tom’s diary from Harry, the heir attacked Hermione, and took down none other than Draco Malfoy. Harry and Ron need to adventure into the Chamber of Secrets to save him and stop Tom.

The Common Room (ao3) - Hpfanted hermione/ron M, 49k

Summary: Scenes from the Gryffindor common room spanning from the Lavender fiasco up to post Battle of Hogwarts. Firstly Ron finds Hermione late one night in the common room, she’s in pain and he offers comfort. Chapter’s alternate repeat between Ron, Hermione and other’s POV. Exploring how these two can misunderstand each other but ultimately sort themselves out.

The Forest Adventure (ao3) - AnneAngel G, 4k

Summary: Bilbo Baggins gets lost in the forest, and accidentally ends up in the grounds around Hogwarts. The big question is: How this is possible?

[eardefenders]

Sherlock & Co Locations

Location, location, location. Are you like me and not a native Londoner? Are you also like me wondering how to visualize a place or, perhaps more importantly, how long does it take to get from 221B to the various locations and how much they're spending on tube fare?

Well then look no further! This is my masterpost with links to each location described in detail in each post made on those locations. Each post gives a bit about how far from 221B it's located (depending on travel method), how much it likely cost them to get there, photos of the location, and a bit of the location's history.

Every time we get a new locale I'll add a post and link it here. :) Lmk if I miss any and I'll add them. If you see a location and it has no link then either the link broke or I haven't made the post yet, but logged the location.

Cheers!

The Criterion Bar

221B Baker Street

Brixton

The Volunteer Pub & Restaurant

Regent's Park

Hampstead

Thor Bridge (Upney Ln)

Walthamstow (Morgue)

King George's Hospital

Barking/North Barking

Fortnum & Mason

Paddington Station

Hilton Green/Chatham

Berlin (John's Vacay Spot with The Boys)

Heathrow Airport

Hotel Cosmopolitan

Bailey's Street

Shoreditch

King's Road

Chelsey

44 Cross St., Croydon

Chiswick Flyover

The Fox (the swinger's pub)

Hanwell/Ealing/West London

Islington Tunnel

Eltham

Blackheath Common

"GAIL'S Bakery"

The Strand

'Saxe-Coburg Square'

Pinewood Studios

Embankment

Charing Cross

Opera House (?)

Barking Station

Walthamstow

Waterloo Bridge

Bank of England Museum

Camden Town

Living Room Club Cafe

'Gloria Scott' (Oil Rigs)

Ramack/Kosovo

St Dunstan

Little Venice

Satalfields

Brick Lane

Neal's Yard

South Kensington (Ice Rink)

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Greece Masterlist

got our love feeling like an island now (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: dan and phil on holiday on a greek island circa summer 2019

i fall for the same face every time (ao3) - zsunsetz

Summary: In every universe, in every lifetime, in every world, he promises that he will love him.

It’s cool, we’re just friends (ao3) - sierraadeux

Summary: A romantic getaway for two, a beautiful Greek island, the wedding of everyone’s dreams - what more could any couple want? Well, for Phil, maybe just for his date to not be his best friend.

or, the one where dan is an idiot, phil is an idiot, and the street cats of Santorini are incredibly cute.

May I Kiss You? (ao3) - Azure (Fancy_Ravenclaw)

Summary: After finishing university Phil Lester goes on holiday to Greece to celebrate with some friends. There they meet a group of Italian tourists, one of whom catches Phil's eye. Phil has ten days to win Daniel Howell's attention.

memories that remain (ao3) - Gal_tic

Summary: Dan and Phil meet on a beach in Greece at the age of seventeen. Two years later when they are nineteen, their paths are separated as they follow their individual dreams.

The course of true love never did run smooth...

Origins of the Phass Inflation Post (Dan and Phil in Greece) (ao3) - EverythingIsAsItWas

Summary: Dan and Phil rarely take vacations just for themselves, vacations in which they make no content, do not work, and simply enjoy each other's company. Going to Greece feels like the perfect opportunity for this, but Phil also thinks it's the perfect opportunity for a video... and Dan likes being a little shit.

our last summer (ao3) - Gal_tic

Summary: Dan and Phil meet on a beach in Greece. This is their story.

Pink + White (ao3) - 33lavender

Summary: 'Every time they went on holiday Dan couldn’t help but lament that they didn’t do it more. When they were away, he and Phil would create these grand plans, sometimes with their friends and sometimes with only the stars keeping them company, of all the places they’d like to visit just for the sole purpose of visiting them.'

Thank You, Love You, Baby (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Despite the long day, Dan and Phil are desperate to be together following their first two shows in Brighton, England. The couple celebrates with a load of Greek food and a sexy shower.

the slipperiest country (ao3) - PhancyPhandom

Summary: Dan and phil take a cute romantic getaway to Greece. Some pals come along too.

“That’s okay if you lock us out, I have dan to keep me warm.” Phil leant over the chairs and lazily pulled dan into his grip. He peppered kisses on his cheek.

“Babe, we better leave them to their own devices, Phil is drunk drunk.” Bryony giggled.

Through the intimate onslaught of phil, Dan looked up in bemusement.

“Right, and you aren’t?”

versace on the floor (ao3) - Gal_tic

Summary: Dan and Phil are in Greece, and can't get enough of each other. What happens when they get back to their room, and are quite relaxed from the warm, Greek air?

We Are Eternal (ao3) - GoodGollyMissYollie (Yollie183)

Summary: Fate tries - again and again - to give two soulmates their happy ending…

[randomanimaticse]

Five Nights at Freddy's Masterlists

Fnaf 1 Masterlist

Fnaf 2 Masterlist

Fnaf 3 Masterlist

Fnaf 4 Masterlist

Sister Location Masterlist

Freddy's Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator Masterlist

Security Breach Masterlist | Ruin Masterlist

[yuansie]

↷ ·˚ ༘ 💌 masterlists : ꒱

honkai star rail : archives on the nameless

genshin impact : records of the world of teyvat

tears of themis : the big data lab's archives

love & deepspace : myths of the world

twisted wonderland : tales of twisted wonderland

wuthering waves : the story of rover

final fantasy vii : shinra's reports

[dmitriene]

plink inspiration

simon riley rearranging your pussy while spreading your asscheeks, thrusting his lengthy, thick cock in your tight, constricting warmth as your gummy walls ripple, his palms holding onto your supple skin, sinking in, spreading your fat as his thumbs point on your asshole, the tight, gaping hole clenches in front of his lidded, darkened gaze.

his cock gliding slowly, pulling back until only his twitching, fat tip remains inside your gooey, spasming walls, before sheathing himself back to the hilt in one hard, powerful thrust, repeating it over and over again, knocking those chocked, slurred mewls right from your lungs, as you squeeze your legs, holding yourself up properly through the jolting.

accepting the burn from his muscular hips that hit repeatedly against your ass, skin raw from his blunt, sinking nails using you as a leverage, and the slap of skin against skin that resonates lewdly across the bedroom, before simon skims his calloused palms up your cheeks, groping at the round, bouncing globs, tugging them down roughly, almost scratching at your tender skin.

simon starts to ram into your squelching, sappy pussy, jackhammering against the small, spongy spot located deep in your spasming walls, aching pleasantly when his throbbing, leaking tip bumps into the spot, making you sputter out a chorus of loud moans, arching your back in a sweet curve, even through afraid he can slip into your pretty ass at any moment.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[screampied]

❝ IF I WAS A RICH GIRL . . ! ❞

ᡴꪫ sum. not only do you get your panties back but you get a handsome, suave sugar daddy as a gift. gojo takes you out on a date but the lavish, exquisite food isn’t what he’s exactly hungry for. hint: it’s between your legs. oh, and you.

wc. 6.6k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), semi public themes, toy usage, gojo is a nasty menace, cunnilıngus, implied multiple ōrgasms, praise kink, mentions of brēeding, impact play, size kink, degradation, edging, manhandling.

➤ sd!gojo masterlist

“s- ssssatoru,” you hiss. clenching onto your fork, you squeeze your thighs together underneath a velvet red table. it was as if every area of your nerves could barely hold themselves together as they’re continuously being interrupted. interrupted by the sheer vibrations juddering your legs apart. he’s sitting beside you, humming to himself as his eyes skim through the pricey menu. acting as if he doesn’t hear your sweet faint whines, he heard them alright. loud and clear. it’s been a while—ever since that day, you’d have been a fool to not call him from the business card he gave you. accepting his precious offer to be a sugar baby. his sugar baby. and now, you were on a date with him. not just any date though, a date where he brings along a cute new bluetooth vibrator he bought for you. it’s happy new home was located right between your pretty thighs. the setting was powered on level four and you were so so close.

this was bad . . this was really really bad, the immense pressure steadily continues to arise. the bzzzing of the toy rings through your ears to where it gets stuck in your head. everything felt slow, real real slow. the entire five-star restaurant alone was quite loud. blaring with a multitude of conversations from talkative fellow guests. the vibrator makes you whine out a tiny, shrilling squeak, and you squeeze onto his pants leg. “you’re smiling. i know you can hear m- me.”

“huhhh, oh no sweet thing. ‘s just my natural face,” and he’s got a coy grin. he was definitely smiling. “let’s try one more level,” and your legs were just about to give out the moment the buzzing intensifies. so embarrassing, you keep trying to look around, in utter hopes that no one was looking your way. it felt so good, orgasmic even. you’re on your last final hinges of pleasure before he tugs against your ripped fishnets. “hold it, girl,” he directs, planting a kiss against your neck. “don’t finish, at least wait until our food comes. let’s try usin' those manners tonight, yeahh?”

“satoru jus’ let me cum,” you whine, grabbing his wrist. you feel against his g-shock. the cold, metal material making your cute fingertips shiver a bit.

out of amusement— he hums, watching as you try to drag his hand down between your heated thighs.

seeing how desperate you were for more of his beloved touch was adorable. your expanding heat only grows and that’s when you then slouch back against the fat padded restaurant booth. the fabric of your panties felt sticky—almost adhesive like with how it sticks against your mess between your lacey undergarments. just voluntarily glued against your plushed thighs. the toy’s been wavering against your pretty clit for about a good ten minutes. the waiter took you and gojo’s order quite a while ago since then—and those long ten minutes since then felt like long ten hours. “fuck, ‘toru. can’t hold it, pleasepleaseplease.”

“hmmmm,” gojo kneads a thumb against your wrist. his touch alone made you throb more. his touch, you just wanted more of it each time. it was addictive, like a drug, like candy even.

you’re so close to your release that it’s right there. at the very tip of your tongue, you could almost taste it. saliva pours into your mouth as the the inevitable pressure gradually emerges.

as people in the restaurant continue to walk by, you have to try to not be so obvious. you were failing miserably though—anyone could peer a look at you and spot the lewd expressions stretched across your face.

by now, you weren’t really trying to hide it. you were about to make a mess at a public restaurant, and maybe the simple thought of that alone made you pulse with no shame. “aw, y’r squeezin’ my wrist so tight, baby. really wanna make a mess, do ya?” and he leans right up against your neck, giving you a soft kiss. hot breath collides against your collarbone as he gives you a kiss, one simple kiss and you’re just so feral. not a single thought embedded into your mind except you were about to make the biggest nest imaginable. right underneath this table— all thanks to the stupid toy, and stupid satoru gojo, your beloved new sugar daddy. you’re nodding, tiny babbles of whimpers spewing out from your lips before he strums his fingertips against the rotating vibrator. gojo feels against the outer part of it sticking out of you, and he just wants to pull it out, making you cum himself with his tongue. he’s dirty but at least he has some kind of decorum. kind of. “so fuckin’ hot. gettin’ off at a five star restaurant like this, was supposed to be a special night but you just had to be a messy girl today, huh.”

“y- yes, ‘toru, please,” and your breathing hitches the second his frigid cold lips make contact against your skin yet again. if it was anything that could make you so weak, it was gojo’s obscene, sloppy kisses. you craved them like you craved air. “hafta cum, let me finish please. wan’ it so bad.”

with a little teasing sigh he murmurs, “okay fine,” and once he gives you the go ahead, you finally let go. the deafening music reverberating throughout the diner harmonizes over your orgasm— it was a tiny squeal but still. it silenced your own release, but you were still quite loud. you’re slump backward, feeling him turn off the toy from his phone with a simple button and he chuckles. “baby you’re so fuckin’ dramatic,” and he drags a thumb against your now soaked entrance. you’re panting, tummy heaving and heaving as your quaking legs were all sprawled open underneath the table. pried open just for him. “such a wet girl. kinda just wanna get a little taste. my own appetizer before the mea—”

“chilled alaskan king crab legs, two complementary cups of ice and herb roasted chicken—?” a waiter cuts off gojo as he’s flirting with you. with a whip of a head turn, he glances up, a bit annoyed at being interrupted. the waiter with the ordered food in hand stares at the two of you, a short petite male with a eye twitching expression. he gulped, seeing the gojo satoru and decided not to question just why his hand was literally between your thighs. “um, sorry for the delay. here you go.”

“thank you,” gojo cheeses a fake smile—yet as he watches intently as the waiter hands you both the steaming hot plates of lavish cuisine. he pops the same finger that was toying with you right into his mouth. you gaze at gojo, so filthy..

again, no shame at all—a shameless man at best. briefly, he sucks against his finger, savoring the after honeyed taste before smirking. it was as if he preferred your taste rather than the food sitting right in front of him. curling his tongue against his finger, he gives the server a coy nod. “keep the change, man.”

the waiter was stunned to see gojo reaching in his suit, grabbing out a whopping tip amount of four hundred dollars in cash—he stammers, accepting it with a grateful sheepish smile. “ah, t- thank you. please do come again.”

as the server leaves, you’re left with your own body still panting from your most recent teeth shattering release. the food was sizzling, piping hot. with hooded, partly open eyes, you dig your nails into his slacks. “you’re s- so nasty, ‘toru,” and picturing the image of him licking his finger like that . . just a few seconds ago as if it was nothing, you’d lie a bit if you said it didn’t turn you on. at least a little bit anyway. he snickers, planting a kiss against your jawline as you struggle to catch your incoming irregular breaths. “my panties are all soaked now.”

“and. let’s be real—when are you not wet, princess,” he teases, grabbing a napkin to wipe the remnants of drool seeping from the outer corners of your mouth.

gojo’s eyes were so pretty, the more you stare into his elegant, ethereal pupils— the more you wanted him. wanted more of him. swallowing, he grabs the front of your hand before kissing it. the moment his lips press against your hand, you feel your tummy swarm up with butterflies. “and don’t pout. ‘m gonna take them right off ya anyways, c’mon. let’s finish eating. got a surprise for ya back at home.”

at gojo’s mansion, secluded from other buildings to disturb his peace—his surprise for you was nothing more than his tongue.

“i need you so bad, you don’t fuckin’ understand,” he groans, and he’s making sure to take his time with you. his sweet precious time,

you’re in the master bedroom— his bedroom where it was known for having your sweet moans reverberating and bouncing off the walls. as you’re laid on your back, you let off a soft whine once he’s trailing his tongue everywhere down your body. he starts slow, making his way back up to kiss you. strands of delicate snowy strands tickle against your forehead as his lips harshly crash onto yours. you moan, sliding your tongue against his and tasting the leftover taste of what tasted like sweet, sweet tequila. he was still in his suit and tie and you wanted nothing more than to have it off. your hands roam to yank on his tie and he gradually grinds his body against you. “yeah, that’s right. ouch my body, girl. all yours.”

he’s speaking between lewd wet kisses. his voice was deep—his rhythm against your body was so passionate that it was almost carnal. you taste a bit of mint on his tongue also, separate tongues continue to dance and fight against each other all the while he’s left you speechless.

breathless even,

every few seconds he’d have to come up for air, nibbling against your bottom lip coltishly. “don’t be shy,” he whispers, watching as you hesitate to feel against his body. he finds that characteristic about you cute, how you were still shy yet slowly warming up to him. “touch me,” he repeats, his voice a bit more raspy— a bit more needy. so you do, raising your hand and you slip it underneath his dress shirt. as the cottony piece of clothing glides against your skin, he’s still compressing his lips against yours before your fingers start to roam further . . .

as they wander down the older man’s body, you feel his exact build. he was absolutely ripped, even in his early thirties—he could have easily been mistaken as a frat boy. it was no surprise, gojo practically spent his life in the gym. his personal gym anyway. you couldn’t help but take a peak at his buff biceps—only imagining what’d it be like for him to put you in a teasing chokehold.

those arms, that jacked build . .

the more you ponder about him manhandling you, the more you’re so close to making yourself more drenched. as everything progresses, you moan again. his sensual grinding against you gets more quicker and quicker over time. his hardened bulging boner rubs off on you and an arm of yours slings around his broad neck. “mhm,” he groans, feeling the soft centers of your fingertips stroke its way down toward his forbidden happy trail.

it trails and trails,

so pretty, just a beloved white trail of curled hair running down just above the horizontal border of the rest of his pubic hair. it starts near his navel and slides its way further down. a vertical strip of hair that you could never get your hands off of. as you’re still kissing him deeply, teeth gnashing amongst each other before gojo ultimately ulls away.

“fuck, ‘m gonna cum jus’ from kissing you,” he lets off a throaty laugh, trying to hide his flustered state. you had him so weak. so weak but he’d never admit that. gojo brings his swollen, dripping lips towards your neck, then your collarbone, all until he goes just a bit lower. “look at this body,” he coos, pausing to take in your beauty right underneath him. “yeah, ‘m gonna take such good care of you, sweets. jus’ lie back ‘n let me love you.”

his words were as smooth as silk— the deep, resonating pitch in it bellows all around the thin walls of his bedroom. the seductively sly baritone of his voice alone makes you pulse. if it was anything gojo had, he had a way with his fucking words. gojo purses his lips, coating your tummy with a plethora of kisses. you struggle to stay still, your expensive dress he bought you a few days ago for this exact occasion now all wrinkled and creases.

but truthfully,

he didn’t care—besides, he’d always buy you another one. his favorite motto. 

as you’re lounged back, he makes you spread your legs. “mwah,” he purrs against your skin, lolling out his tongue just a bit to create a slime wet trail. it goes all the way down until he reaches near your cute navel . . then up to your half ripped panties. they weren’t ripped before the date, but they certainly were now. “you’re so sensitive today. barely did anythin' ‘n you’re squirmin’ from my touch.”

“s- satoru, please,” you whine out a pathetic breath. a hand then grips onto his tangled strands like velcro. tightly, you didn’t let go— at least not yet anyway. his hair was were messy, and that simple detail alone made him ten times more attractive. gojo’s hair as usual was a bit slicked back but still unkempt, especially now due to your gluing grip. fingers of yours massage its way through his scalp and he almost moans. with a pouty expression, you continue to speak. “you’ve been edging me all day. ‘s no fair.”

“thaaaat’s kind of rude,” he chaffs with his white brows contorting into a furrow. “was the toy not enough?” and with a shushed tone, he whistles against your clit— giving it a soft kiss, a thumb peeling down the center. “oh, right.. probably wasn’t, forgot how greedy this pussy is. ‘s my bad.”

your back arches, and you moan once he prods two long fingers inside of you—your warmth envelops around his digits easily before he pulls it out to give it a good three second whiff. “sweet,” gojo slyly says, licking against his fingers. “would have rather ate this instead,” and you moan, watching how his mouth was practically watering from your alluring taste. such a nasty man, the nastiest. gojo leans up to you, tapping against your chin. “ah ah, open that mouth baby, before i eat. don’t wanna hog, wanna make sure ya get a taste too.”

whimpering, you part your lips— sticking out your tongue before his lengthy slender fingers tug its way into your mouth.

immediately, you suck around them, lashes of yours fluttering from your blissful arousal. “m-mhm,” you slip out an inaudible gasp, feeling his free hand grab against your twitching cunt. gojo’s staring at you with the most smug expression before he pulls his digits out, sneaking a wet kiss right on your mouth. as you taste yourself, a messy cobweb string of spit departs from each mouth before he lies you back down. “fuck, hurry ‘toru.”

“now . . baby, don’t rush me,” he teases, and with your back laid against the squishy cushioned mattress, he finally digs in. your knees poke and extend outward and a sweet whine rips out rawly out of your throat. it’s almost guttural, he’s yanking out noises from you that you didn’t even know you could even produce.

once gojo starts— it’s never ending. 

he could eat you out for hours, despite how his jaw would tense and tighten. you’re moaning at the way he starts off with sloppy kisses before just straight up digging in. nose deep within seconds. it swipes against your folds in various circular motions. the rotation of his tongue was brutal— you’re whimpering, maintaining a rough grip against his hair and he chuckles. sucking deeply against your puffy slit. you throb in his mouth, and you’re already squelching. gojo groans, reaching a hand inside of his executive pants to stroke himself off.

your pleasure was his pleasure after all. he wanted to always make that clear.

gojo wasn’t lying about pointing out how hard you made him. a thumb of his runs down the vein that remains on his dick. with his eyes closed, he allows his tongue to wander through every part of your pussy. he knew just where to go. he knew the exact spots to make you scream and whine out for more.

with ease, he locates every orifice— he doesn’t miss anywhere, more so because he can’t afford to. 

gojo loves more than anything to make out with your cunt. his most favorite thing to do was to french kiss against it.

after each obscene mwah after mwah, he even allows his own saliva to help him out— despite how you were already a practical dripping faucet. careless, saturated kisses of his had you throbbing time and time again in his mouth. his head vigorously shakes back and forth, side to side as you’re practically shoving him forward. “eh—easy on the hair, pretty,” he jibes, concisely parting his lips away. gojo stares at his thumb that’s trying to insert its way in. he grows quiet, watching the scene in front of him. within long extended seconds, your pussy’s swallowing the single digit whole and you swear under your breath at how lengthy his fingers were . . even a simple thumb. gojo’s thumb stretched you out so good that you couldn’t even comprehend the feeling in words. not like you could comprehend anything anyway, you were already stupid. all from his tongue, his touch, everything. “god, such a wet girl. the nerve to be walkin’ around this soaked, ‘n she’s quite the talker today too..”

as he’s rambling with a thumb entering in and out of your cunt, he takes a moment to spit on it. it’s shimmery, he blows against it before letting off a flirty whistle. “yeah she fuckin’ is,” he praises your folds. “oooh, bet she’s gonna give me a nice squirt or two later,” and you moan once he brings his chatty lips back towards it. your pool of heat continues to grow before he lays his tongue flat. he was always a man to make a bit of a mess. your heartbeat starts to get so rapid that you heard it’s pulse right through your ears. the firm grip you have on his hair was tight. tangled crumped up fingers combing right through his hair— it makes him a bit hard. the feeling of you dragging him back and forth against his face. you could barely keep your legs open but you didn’t want him to stop. he’s practically slobbering over your pussy before he breaks away, giving you a smug grin. “like when i make out with her more than you?”

“f-fuck, ‘toru,” was all you could mutter out in shaky lips. as he’s relishing his meal between your thighs, gojo spanks your cunt twice. you’re so soaked that a few sloshing droplets hit against his skin. “ngh, you’re teasin’ me. ‘m gonna cum if you k-keep doin’ that.”

sucking passionately against your clit, his tongue flicks against the sensitive nub. that spots has you short circuiting. “nuh uh, good girls cum when they deserve it,” and the tempo of his suckling gets quicker by the mile. you’re about to break, unceremoniously grinding your hips against his mouth so much to where he chortles. as he laughs, hot breath of his fans against your pussy and it only makes you throb ten times more. 

straight convulsions, 

you’re feeling so many sensations languidly twitch against your body all at once that you could barely keep up. everything’s fuzzy so you felt like you were on cloud eight. cloud nine or whatever people call it— honestly, your mind was far too fried to even figure it out. gojo grunts, snapping you back to reality with a soft swat against your folds. “be honest with me, sweets,” gojo slicks his tongue out of your clingy walls, peppering a playful kiss against your soddened, moist folds. “do ya deserve to cum? do ya deserve to be my messy baby? tell me the truth.”

with a cute, exasperated sigh, you sob out a needy cry. “y- yesss, i’ve been good, ‘toru. been good all day,” and his sucking against your clit grows within speed. the very cartilage of his nose against his nose prods against your entrance and you feel like you’re floating. the tip of his nose was all soaked, all because of your cunt continuously scooting up against it. as he’s propped right up between your legs, a hand of his squeezes down on your right thigh before giving it a little bite. your legs, one of his favorite things to gently press his teeth into. as well as your neck, but your legs—they were just a force to be reckoned with. you were a force to be reckoned with. “satoruuuu.”

“sweetheaaaaart,” he mocks your cute dragging of your words, slurping every lewd amount of your primal arousal. you’re so cute, barely bring able to stay still so much to where he’s got to hold you in place. “but you were bein’ a bit of a brat earlier,” he hoarsely utters, rubbing his hard on against the edge of the bed. “teasin’ me, even tried ‘ta stroke me off while we were in the diner,” and with coy eyes, he gives you a cunning smirk. as you pout, he simpers. “aww yeahhh, remember that dontcha?”

continuing to rut your sloppy cunt against his face, he playfully nibbles against your clit — you whine, biting down on your lip before spreading a plump thumb against your folds like jelly.

“dunno if she should be messy just yet,” and he’s such a tease. as he speaks, his eyes avert towards your pussy, clearly wanting you to understand he was talking to her and not you. at least not right now. you could hear the playfulness underneath his tone. your heart’s racing— it’s so intense, your legs were quavering within his hold. struggling to maintain decent breaths, you end up finishing anyway. it hits you so abruptly that it’s rude, all kinds of nerves surge through you and your mouth pries itself open. the only thing escaping out of your sweet dry throat was a desperate, wailing whimper. gojo pauses, bringing a final kiss against your pussy before smearing a thumb against his lips. “the fuck.”

“s- sorry,” you pant, but truth be told—you weren’t. in fact, if he squinted just enough, he could see the little smile trying to stretch itself against your guilty, sheeny lips. you’d only last a few minutes with his tongue, featuring his long fingers, but still. 

first and foremost, your powerful orgasm had you feral, a cooling air suddenly sets down against your skin as your legs tremble before your pussy gets slapped with a mean smack. one turns into two, then three, then four . . 

“f- fuuuck, ‘toru,” you gasp, hearing the wet swats against your cunt. you’re still sensitive, your swollen folds all dampened with nothing but your slick, soaking arousal. so wet, so sloppily wet and only wet just for him.

“we talked ‘bout this, sweets,” gojo grumbles, giving your folds an almost disappointed kiss. “but ‘s like ya never listen, guess y’r pussy needs more training,” and as you’re trying to collect as much gasps of air as you can through your full lungs, he squeezes your cunt with his entire wrist. unzipping his slacks, he leans into you before pulling you into a kiss. the entire spacey room was dim lit, velvety shaded rose petals scattered everywhere onto the crinkled sheets. gojo knew how to set the mood. as he shoves a tongue down your throat, still getting a good grip of your cunt with his palm, he then makes you flop right onto your back. “mch,” he hastily pulls away, a tongue savoring your sweetened lip gloss that smothers itself against your twitching mouth. “can’t look at ya right now. face that way, yeah. face down ‘n ass up. jus’ like i taught ya, pretty.”

with unsteady hands sinking into the bed, you do as he says. a soft whine ferociously snatches out of you once a big hand of his caresses your left ass cheek. his touch, you were always so weak for it. ever since you first met the man, your first encounter which was about approximately almost two weeks ago. you started to get deeply attached, well, at least your body was . . 

as you arch forward, you feel a soft scratchy material plop against your back. gojo doesn’t waste time, tugging down his own brand of boxers with his last name stripped in bold letters near the stretchy hem. grunting, he springs his aroused dick out, aligning himself against your achy, drooling entrance. the feeling of material was just gojo throwing a few wads of cash near your back. “bratty but gorgeous,” he scoffs, feeling you wriggle your ass against him. oh, you were gonna be the death of him. the fifty dollar bills trail and slide down your spine— the view of it was so sexy, he wanted to savor this moment. you’re his favorite girl, he already knew it. a hand of his grips near your hip. “needy ‘lil thing. just gotta move that ass against me,” and as he’s speaking, he gifts your ass with another impolite spank. “ugh, pussy’s to die for.”

“s- satoru, fuck me,” your plea came out of your mouth in such a small tone. it was cute, your knees that dug into the mattress remain to grow shaky and wobbly before nearly giving out. the size difference amused him.

the delicious size of his fat cock was pure bliss. you don’t think you could ever get used to it. every time with him always felt like the first. with two clingy big hands glued to your waist, he’s easing his way in slowly. his fat tip ploddingly opens up the outer sloppy walls of your entrance and you’re so slick for him that you’re already coating gojo from the very base down. growing a bit frustrated that it seems like he’s taking forever, you creep a hand down between your thighs to touch yourself but he only spanks your wrist away.

“girl—please, let’s not touch my pussy today,” he warns slyly, catching your hand with quick reflexes.

you moan, feeling his girth expand throughout your walls. he’s just so fucking big, your mouth stretches itself open and a tiny squeak escapes. “so wet, mhm, listen to how sloppy you get for me,” and you end up falling face forward into the bed. with your ass still up in the air, he’s easily emitting such filthy moans from your throat. your pussy doesn’t take long to constrict around his hefty length. gojo always fits nice and snug inside, you wholeheartedly take him inside, drooling from how your cunt grips around him in such a secure way. just one thrust, a single thrust from gojo and you were already limp. “thereee we go, take it, pretty.”

“i-i’m gonna cum,” you whine, speaking in an almost breathy way. fat callused fingertips of his run down your spine, sending you various shivers before he spanks your bass again. the dollar bills that lay against your back start to fall right off of you from the quick paced movements. “s- sirrrr,” and with another smack, he corrects your sweet tone so you can rephrase and address him the right way. “i— i mean satoru, fuck you’re s’big. ‘m gonna cum again.”

“oh, don’t be dramatic sweetheart,” he purrs in a rich tone, feeling you already start to gape around him. your pussy flutters from his thick entrance, and once he starts up a pace you’re frantic for more. a hand of his wraps around the back of your throat like a necklace before the ruthless drilling eventually starts. the sticking cacophonous pap pap paps against each jerking limb paps was so loud. skin against skin, body against body, you felt your jaw tighten. he’s so precise and rigorous with his sharp hips that it gives you whiplash. you’re never prepared—even if you try to be. gojo knows how to hit every part of your cunt in such a way to make you squeal out in pleasure, in ecstasy. he’s got an upward curve that wanders all inside of your caved love areas. just a few thrusts and you were already salivating. “mhm,” he huffs, hearing the stickiness your cunt sings against his base. already, it’s a wet trail coating around his dick with each time he pulls out before back in. “don’t get lazy on me, pretty. i need to see a better arch. even i can do better than that.”

with a pout at his maddening cockiness, he spanks you again. you arch your back forward a bit more and he coos, “good fuckin’ girl,” and he grabs a nice chunk of your ass. burying your head into the crook of your elbow, it takes him barely any time at all to locate your forbidden g-spot.

once he hits it exactly, the sound that escapes from your lips was adorable—it was a little shriek, it sounded so beatific and harmonious it was as if he was listening to a song. a song he never wanted to end, your sweet voice. “goddamn,” he groans, feeling your ass thwack its way back against him in salacious rapture. oh, but despite that all, he knows you’re nothing but a tease. especially with your movements against him, happily moving your hips in sync with his. you’re fucking back against him and it makes him kiss his teeth. “maybe this ‘s what ya needed all along, wanted ‘ta spoil you today but all you wanted was dick, ‘s that right, sweet thing?”

“n- no,” you lie through your teeth, your own voice muffled with how you’re speaking inside of your elbow. your voice was shaky, trembling on every dragging syllable before the bed starts to get rickety. it creates sound with you both— making its own types of lewd harmonies. gojo’s weight pressing against you makes you throb, you were feeling all kinds of pleasure at once. whimpering once more at how he’s stuffing you full of thickset inches, you try to reach down to touch yourself. 

“don’t play with me,” he catches your wrist again, an almost snicker departing from his lips.

damn, so close.

holding onto your wrist, he notices you squeeze his hand, rubbing a thumb against his fingers. “aw, does the baby wanna hold my hand?” and as you struggle to nod, he gently pins your arm back.“you’re somethin’ e-else.”

his words start to cut off a bit as he’s keeping up a decent tempo—the frame of the king sized bed starts to get jittery. all from the weight and his sloppy hips rigorously pounding into you. the bed’s creaking, it’s almost deafening with how it screeches aloud from the massing pounds of hefty pressure crushing against it. “d-don’t stop, please,” and he’s just fucking you into his pillow. even the satiny rich sheets of his pillows smell like him. his signature musky scent of his gojo satoru cologne.

. . speaking of,

his pillows even have his last name bedazzled on them. literal cursive letters of ‘gojo’ written in blue. if you weren’t so fucked out, you’d roll your eyes. he’s so deep, a hand of his explores the entire curvature of your hips. your curves were one of his favorite parts of your body, he could touch you all day long if he really wanted. the loving warmth that body provided him had him wanting more—yearning for more, more of you. gojo always relishes in how you respond to just a few of his fingers of his dancing against your skin. you were so sensitive and it was a real sight to witness. one of his favorite sights. “fuck, ‘toru. right there, riiight there, fuck.”

as his hips become more sharper, he hits against that same spot that causes a short circuit in your brain. you’re gasping—holding your breath before whining, he’s so thorough. hands of yours slide underneath your barely unclamped bra, fondling against your jerking tits. “good girl, play with y’r nipples for me like that,” and he swats another discourteous spank against your ass. this time it’s harder, it stings for a second and you whimper out from the sudden contact. after he spanks it, he always caresses it, rubbing the soft palm of his hand to make the sudden sting subside. “y’r so fuckin’ hot, pussy’s gonna make me fall for y—”

and he stops his words right at that last bit. your heart flutters— or maybe that was just your pussy, but you were no idiot. you knew what he was gonna say. or maybe you were delusional and misheard what he was saying. 

gojo satoru was a filthy man, he steals out orgasm after orgasm out of you like it’s nothing. he was a little older, which meant that he was a bit more experienced.

quite a lot more than you by a long shot, he made you feel ways in where other men never could. couldn’t even come close. maybe that’s why you were so attracted, why you wanted more . . 

a well known businessman, but downright nasty in the sheets. he couldn’t help it, nor did he even really care. gojo had you wrapped around his rich finger, just like how you had him wrapped around yours. 

with him,

the passionate intimacy lasts for many many hours. timeless, numerous until your legs were sore, until you’re just being a cum dump for him. you’re pumped full until it’s leaking out of your cunt. so stuffed, with your panties still lazily pulled to the size, some remnants of his cum coats against it. he’s lost count of how many rounds it was— maybe four, five, or was it eight. 

all you knew was that your legs had been gave out. you were now flat on your back and he’s fucking you in missionary.

beloved, iconic missionary,

the perfect position to stare you right into your eyes. he grows a liking to grab your chin right when you’re about to cum, peeling your bottom lip down, only to then shove a tongue down your throat. speaking between breathy sentences, he groans—rocking his fit body against yours. “kiss me, baby, suck my tongue,” and as he’s swaying back and forth, washboard abs poking through his shirt, your legs lock around his slim waist. a hand of yours slides its way through his dress shirt and tux, feeling against his faint chest hair and washboard abs before you part your lips. you only then start to gradually suck against the tip of his tongue. his heart beats speedily, synchronizing with yours entirely. he’s dizzy, the static that your body produces against him makes his head throw back as he pulls away. glancing up at the ceiling, still presenting your cunt deep solid strokes—he knew you were gonna be a problem. 

his prettiest problem,

perhaps he wasn’t starting to think of you as just his sugar baby, maybe even something more . . but he buried that thought into the very back of his mind. all he really cared about was your pleasure. 

pulling away for a moment, still buried into your sopping wet cunt, he grips your chin. whispering in a weary tone, smiling at you, he sighs. “. . tell me,” and he gifts your wet lips a chaste kiss. “you wanna finish with me, pretty?”

“p- please,” you moan, your legs tightly locking around his waist, never letting go. everything was a mess— the entire room had a balmy aroma of love and passion. the both of you were sweating, beads of sweat coating each body. more so gojo, this was a mere work out for him. although, he was actually used to using his body on a daily, so physical activity never bothered him in the slightest. your stomach continues to seize from his fat length and he inches his mouth toward your neck again. his lips were so soft, gently sucking against your tender skin throughout each intimate moment.

viscous amounts of cum race down your thighs as if it’s some kind of lewd competition. as it’s slowly trickling down between your legs slowly, a hand of his slithers down your shaky limbs to feel it. to make sure it doesn’t go to waste, to make sure it doesn’t spill.

gojo satoru’s cum was priceless—quite literally probably. plugging it back in before you whine. “wanna cum with you, ‘toru.”

“can never say no to you, baby,” he hums, bringing another kiss to your lips. despite his raspy worn out tone—he’s still so gentle with your body in his hands. gojo’s zealous hips slow down a bit before his lips capture against yours again. a hand swiftly wraps around your throat, briskly oscillating back against your body before another hand grabs the headboard. you glance up, spitting the veins poke out through his sleeves that were peeling down. he’s giving you slow, sensual thrusts. “fuuuck . . me,” and his words were delayed by a few seconds. he’s mercilessly grinding against your heat so good to where it becomes sloppy. he’s so close again—he knows that feeling all too well. you didn’t know what to focus on. gojo’s length, the girth that keeps your walls sweetly captive, or his voice but it was all so appetizing. so . . flavorsome.

he couldn’t help but slow down his hips a bit. with a single hand, he reaches down to pull his leaky dick out right before he came. he shot into you already—dozens of times actually, but he felt like being a tease again.

“ugh,” he groans, feeling his base swollen itself up. as you finish on your own, your body transmitting into a shockwave of a wave of rapturing rhapsody he mimics you before a stringy amount of ropes splat right onto your folds. it’s so much, so viscous and goopy that paints the entrance of your cunt to where it’s as if your pussy was a mere canvas for him. “look at thaaaat,” and as he licks his lips, you’re shaking right underneath him. gojo leans in to kiss you and that’s when the bed suddenly jitters. it’s rumbling but he ignores it— bringing you into the nth kiss for the night. “atta girl.” he whispers between kisses.

as you’re leaning into his touch, your anklet erotically rubs down the muscles of his back in such a sensual way. with tongues tangling together in corresponding harmony, the expensive wood on the headboard suddenly breaks. it’s a ear-splitting noise, an almost creak. noticing the noise, you break away from his lips before sheepishly muttering. 

“did the bed just . . break?”

“perhaps,” gojo whispers, but he was totally unfazed. you had him pussy whipped, he didn’t even look tired.

pretty cerulean irises gaze into your all—so pretty that it almost could be mistaken for a solid pigment of green. a jade loving kind of green that you only see in jewels. his intense, needy stare longs into you for a few more seconds before he makes you flip over. you gasp, still feeling his cum ooze out of you from the inside. it was so feverishly warm, sweltering hot with bulks of his sticky seed. all that and you just wanted more, you didn’t care how greedy or needy you came across.

snickering, gojo picks up the money that’s scattered everywhere on the bed only to put them right back on your back where it belongs—

he then sticks a single fifty dollar bill between your lazily stuck-to-the-side panties before letting off a dry laugh.

“let’s not worry about that though. let’s worry ‘bout how ‘m gonna try ‘ta get you pregnant, tonight sweetheart. nowww, let’s practice that arch again one more time, my love. bend over just for me, yeah. atta fuckin’ girl.”

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Fics Named After Locations Masterlist

a plaque on the wall in singapore (ao3) - apeirophobia calum/ashton, harry/louis T, 5k

Summary: “What do you do?”

“Other people’s boyfriends, apparently.”

(In which Ashton has no fucks left to give, and Louis finds he still has a few.)

Or, Louis isn’t sure if he’s hitting his lowest point, but at least he’s hitting something.

Caught in Seattle (ao3) - cornflowerblue (daydadahlias), thesaltyspice calum/ashton, other(s) E, 82k (WIP)

Summary: or, the one where Calum is supposed to be sober but, somehow, he finds himself a new addiction in the form of a cowboy hat-wearing groupie

Destination: Perth (ao3) - onlythevoid luke/ashton T, 34k

Summary: The stranger swung into the seat next to him and sighed contentedly. Luke stole a glance from under his hat. It was a boy with light-brown messy hair, reminiscent of surfers Luke saw on the beach in Brisbane - he had a t-shirt on and black jeans, and fade-tint round-frame sunglasses propped on his straight nose.

The stranger caught Luke’s eyes.

“Hey?” The stranger asked. Shouldn’t have looked at him, Luke thought. Too late.

The stranger had set his sunglasses on his head and was peering below Luke’s cap. “Dude. You look terrible. Are you okay?”

Oh, so the stranger was one of those guys. Too friendly and ever-inquisitive. Yes, Luke looked like shit; he’d been crying for an hour at a time, every few hours, and all he’d had to eat in the past two days was some wet broccoli at the hospital and a bag of chips he’d bought that morning in Brisbane, and there were bruises all up and down his right arm from a car crash he wished he’d died in.

Luke didn’t say any of that. He prayed his voice would be steady and said, “Yes. Thanks.”

The messy-haired boy did not seem convinced. After a pause, he offered, “My name’s Ashton, by the way.”

Hotel California (ao3) - persephone_evans michael/luke G, 5k

Summary: Ashton wakes up in the most expensive hotel he’s ever been in. Only problem, he can’t remember how he got there or how he paid for it. But when he meets Calum and gets introduced to Michael and Luke, he doesn’t care anymore.

a hotel california au that i wrote in a fit of depression

LA is not for the weak (ao3) - gardener luke/ashton M, 34k

Summary: Anybody who has ever lived in LA can second that the vibe is off. So much goes down in Los Angeles every single day that there is no way you can know everything about this city. Negative energies have the tendency to spread much quicker than positive ones, and it shows. Having lived in Los Angeles for as little as a couple of months, perhaps even less, can change you for the rest of your life. Some people recover from LA, almost as if it were a flu, but some people can never seem to snap out of it. For those of the last category, even if they are on the other side of the world, they are still in LA. Or, really, LA is still in them.

After everything that has happened in the past couple of years, Luke Hemmings is not doing okay. Los Angeles has really started to take its toll on him, and the constant pressure of being in the public eye doesn't make it any easier.

The Sun Is Burning Down Los Angeles (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum M, 40k

Summary: Calum probably signed a form saying he wouldn’t fall in love with the lead singer of the band. And he really doesn’t want to. What a cliché. It’s just…people get famous for a reason. This guy got famous for all the reasons. 

Calum moves to LA to work for 5SOS.

walmart sonata (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds Luke/Calum M, 33k

Summary: Luke shakes his head. He doesn’t really understand Calum. What is this beautiful man doing being sweet and kind to him in the Walmart he works at several times a week? Luke’s life doesn’t include things like this. He just smiles at Calum slightly disbelievingly, it’s not like Calum will ever really see him perform. He’s just a hot stranger from his grocery store.

Wembley (ao3) - smol_whale michael/luke G, 2k

Summary: 5sos are playing a show at Wembley and Cal, Ash and Luke bet that Michael is going to hurt himself on stage.

With a New York State of Mind (I Wanna Take My Heart to the End of the World) (ao3) - Lxverxofmxne G, 1k

Summary: 4 strangers, same destination. One road trip, 14 hours max. — “This is going to sound really weird, but do you wanna road trip with me?”

The men stared at Luke weirdly. He shrugged before continuing.

Woke Up in Japan (ao3) - hollyster luke/ashton E, 4k

Summary: in which Ashton and Luke go on a picnic date and end up having sex in the shower

Woke Up In Japan (ao3) - Shipalltheships (Destielshipper100) luke/ashton, calum/michael, shawn/everyone M, 2k

Summary: Shawn calls Ashton asking if he and the rest of the band would want to hang out. The four men put a mischievous plan into place.

[thecutestgrotto]

We desperately need some classical theatre themed dividers my gorgeous pooks, please 😣 just the dark reds and golds and the dramatic curtains and URGDHHDHS so hot

Hey pookie! Fun fact no one asked for lol: I was a theatre kid in high school (theatre tech), those curtains are HEAVY and the stage gets insanely hot with the lights, we were constantly sweating while working on equipment or building sets, it honestly was hell for a bunch of teenagers. 😭🩵🌸

Classical Theatre

[themculibrary]

Brooklyn Masterlist

Adventures of the Christmas Cat (ao3) - SMDarling steve/bucky G, 4k

Summary: It's cold in Brooklyn when Steve Rogers rescues a very special cat from a tree.

The cat decides to return his kindness by finding the only thing Steve wants for Christmas - Bucky Barnes.

Chypre of a Bygone Era (ao3) - thatgaywizard steve/bucky E, 10k

Summary: Bucky looked down- looked honest to God embarrassed even, which made Steve’s pulse flutter. “Sorry I’m- ” Bucky said, and almost with disbelief in his voice, “I’m drunk.” As though he was impressed by this fact which he’d just remembered.

“It’s not the first time.”

“Sure ain’t.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve wanted to…”

Bucky realized Steve’s tone didn’t mean what he’d thought as he stared into his eyes. “...To what?”

“To kiss you.”

{A story in which Thor tries to get everyone drunk and Steve and Bucky stage an Irish Goodbye at an Avenger's shindig and elope into the New York evening together}

down in the brooklyn toil (ao3) - arabellagaleotti steve/bucky G, 1k

Summary: A story of what could have been.

If the Jacket Fits (ao3) - betheflame steve/tony M, 3k

Summary: Steve finds a stranger in a park having a panic attack and gives him his jacket to keep warm as he calms down.

Tony falls for the stranger who gave him his coat during a panic attack, but finding "Steve from Brooklyn" isn't exactly easy.

Good thing Tony is a stubborn weirdo.

Maple and Rose (ao3) - gogglor steve/tony G, 3k

Summary: Steve and Tony run into each other at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens, and that's not the only coincidence: both of them are there to commemorate their mothers.

Coming there they'd both intended to grieve alone, but maybe some company wouldn't be so bad after all.

Mine is the Shining Future (ao3) - brideofquiet steve/bucky E, 48k

Summary: He could have a life here, but what would it be? He could be a grocer; he could marry a girl who remembers hearing his name on the prayer list nearly every Sunday mass. He could fill sketchbooks in his spare time and stuff them into a trunk under his bed when he’s exhausted their pages, never to be seen again. He could live and die on Friary Street.

It would be a fine life, if a simple one. Something similar was enough for his mother. It should be enough for him, too. Is it?

In late summer of 1937, Steve Rogers immigrates to America.

new york is a hell of a town (and i'm brooklyn down) (ao3) - meiduisteve/tony T, 1k

Summary: Steve takes Tony home to meet Sarah and Joseph on a bright sultry weekend in August, the half-pint neighbourhood tucked away in eastern Brooklyn that Tony has heard stories about for five months now.

Oasis (ao3) - paperstorm steve/bucky E, 4k

Summary: “Is there a point to this conversation?”

“We should go, is the point.”

“To a queer bar,” Bucky says, flatly. The look on his face says he isn’t planning on giving it a second thought before turning Steve down.

One Year Later (ao3) - AugustEdelweiss steve/bucky G, 1k

Summary: Steve (and Bucky) grieving the loss of Sarah Rogers.

On The A Line (ao3) - wasureneba G, 1k

Summary: He goes to Brooklyn after. He knows it’s supposed to be an important place to him; he read that in the exhibit. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, two scrappy boys from Brooklyn.

He is no longer a scrappy boy from the streets of New York, that much he knows without having to read it.

Right Hook (ao3) - synony4life steve/bucky E, 25k

Summary: “I’m taking you down to Ivan’s Gym on Saturday,” Bucky says. He lifts his hand to shut Steve up as soon as he notices Steve is about to interrupt. “I’m not taking no for an answer here, Steve. You might be the stubborn one out of the pair of us, but I ain’t backing down on this. If you’re gonna fight, you’re at least gonna learn how to punch properly.”

“I can punch,” Steve counters.

Bucky levels him with a flat stare. He doesn’t need words to say; if you knew how to punch you wouldn’t be looking like that.

A 1940s fic wherein Bucky decides it's high time for Steve to learn how to throw a proper punch so he takes him to a boxing gym. Feelings ensue!

subways and soup kitchens (ao3) - crazywineaunt steve/bucky G, 1k

Summary: Steve sleeps past the last stop on the subway.

The Only Guy Steve Knows Who Lives In Brooklyn (ao3) - Beans (provetheworst) clint/natasha, minor steve/bucky T, 27k

Summary: Clint’s the only guy Steve knows who lives in Brooklyn, which is probably why the Winter Soldier starts hanging around his apartment. Clint has had worse houseguests, but even that doesn’t explain how he ends up on a thirty three hour flight to Madripoor trying to save the guy Captain America’s probably in love with from mad scientists.

The Steadfast Soldier (ao3) - danielosbourne steve/bucky E, 12k

Summary: Bucky returns to Brooklyn to help his sister navigate a family crisis.

The Sunday Paper (ao3) - runicsecret sam/bucky E, 1k

Summary: Sam has been developing some farsightedness with all the visor usage. What happens when he forgets to order contacts one time before a few week stay at his and Bucky's place in Brooklyn?

Thinking on the Bridge (ao3) - woamx G, 1k

Summary: Sometimes, Peter likes to swing about the city to clear his head. Other times, he likes to sit on the Brooklyn Bridge and think about life. Both of these things give Tony Stark a heart attack.

Two Seat Sofa, Hensta Light Brown (ao3) - Ilyone, whatthefoucault steve/bucky T, 6k

Summary: "So..." Steve hesitated to finish the question, "are we dating?"

(In which Steve and Bucky come home.)

We Could Make This Place Beautiful (ao3) - Paint_Stained_Heart steve/bucky G, 7k

Summary: No one knows what to do with these rising political tides, much less a testy one-armed veteran and a nervous returned Peace Corps Volunteer, lost in the thralls of Brooklyn, NY.

What Lies Within (ao3) - Steggy steve/peggy G, 7k

Summary: It's Christmas. Brooklyn is blanketed in snow, and as the brunette agent peers out the window, tea in hand, she ponders the day to come, the surprises in store, and most of all, the soldier asleep in her bed.

Winter in Brooklyn (ao3) - SuperSpookyAlienInvaders steve/bucky T, 1k

Summary: Winter in Brooklyn is cold, but blankets, tea, and full hearts are there to make sure the chill doesn't take root.

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 3 | masterlist

-

It’s not unusual for someone to mistake you for the baby’s mama.

How could someone not, at least for a moment? When you take the baby to the grocery store, older people gush over him babbling in his stroller, eager to shower him with compliments in baby-talk or tell you how much you resemble the little tyke. After hearing the same comment for the umpteenth time, you tire of correcting people by saying you’re the babysitter only to watch their face fall, somewhat mortified and feeling as though their comment should’ve been directed to the baby’s actual mother. Which isn’t you. 

It’s less typical for someone to mistake you for John’s wife, though that does happen from time to time.

You’ve become a fixture around the neighbourhood since John hired you at the beginning of the summer, and over the weeks, the other nannies and the stay-at-home moms have started to gradually warm up to you. Before long, you’re being invited on coffee runs and playdates with some of the other women, always careful to ask for John’s permission before bringing his baby into a stranger’s house.

“Just text me the address and their names,” he requests while you stand awkwardly in front of him, John sitting on the bed to finish buttoning up his shirt and fixing his watch around his wrist. You would’ve been fine standing on the other side of the door while he finished changing, but he insisted on inviting you in.

“I will,” you promise, nodding along with his words.

“And call me if you don’t feel comfortable. I’ll come get the two of you right away if you need me.”

You swallow. Nod again.

The first time you take the baby for a playdate with a couple of the moms from the park, one catches you in the act of texting John the address of the house as he requested. “Hubby wants to know where you are, huh?”

“Oh,” you choke out, face heating up. “He’s not—”

“Not a control freak, I know. They’re all like that.” Her smile is ebullient, rolling her eyes like you’re in on a joke together when you most assuredly are not. “Why don’t you share your location with him? Mine’s the same way. Here—I’ll show you how.”

She takes your phone and tap-taps something and suddenly you see it in the notifications of your conversation with John. If you bite your lip instead of correcting her assumption about the nature of your and John’s relationship, that’s for you and you alone to know. Your rationale is that any explanation will just make things tense; it’s not like you haven’t seen it happen before. 

It’s far more concerning when John doesn’t correct those assumptions. Particularly when you’re standing right next to him. 

Like at the local water park on a particularly hot weekend, wading in the kiddy pool with the baby nestled tight against your chest in his little swim trunks and floppy hat only for an employee to ask John if his wife would like something to drink. 

“Iced coffee, love?” John asks, taking your stupefied silence as a yes. “Nothing for me, mate. Cheers.” 

Your head spins like a top on that thought until a good while later. The server hands you a glass of iced coffee with condensation already dripping down the sides and John thanks him for you, taking the baby from you and pulling you to his side. You drink your coffee quietly with your thigh flush with his under the water, gripping the glass harder when his free hand squeezes around your waist, laughing at something another parent said to him.

It’s so over for you. There’s no coming back from this. 

The sight of someone of John’s size, a bulky, military man with arms of pure steel dusted with dark hairs, cradling a tiny, chubby baby with a thatch of similar dark hair on his head and big cheeks and roly poly arms unlocks something primal in you. An old, buried need. 

In the family changing room, you stand under an ice cold shower until it breaks the fever slowly consuming you. All you can do is hope it takes. 

In the evening, you sit out on the porch with John at the back of the house until the crickets swell with song, the moon a half-crescent in the sky. A cool breeze makes your shoulders lift a little, huddling into your body to keep warm. 

It’s hard to keep your eyes on the view in front of you and off the man sitting beside you when they want so badly to be running over him. He’s changed out of his work clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and an old threadbare shirt, the sage green fabric faded after years of being run through the washing machine. It clings to his biceps and the soft pudge of his stomach, a layer of fat over the hard muscle beneath. 

A cigarette dangles from his fingers, thick wrist perched on the arm of the adirondack chair. Every so often he lifts it to his lips for a puff, always breathing out in the opposite direction from you. Considerate of your health, at least, if not his own. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks before ashing his cigarette, and your bottom lip purses when you turn your head to look at him because you thought you were doing a good job suppressing your shivers. 

You stare at him, confused. He cocks an eyebrow at your questioning stare and deliberately glances down, waiting until you notice the way your nipples are protruding through your white tank top. You forgot that you’d taken your bra off earlier for a bit of relief and hadn’t yet had a chance to put it back on. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, crossing your arms to hide as much as possible, humiliation flooding through you. “I’m so sorry—that’s so—I-I’m so sorry.”

John makes a rough sound when he rises to his feet, knees cracking as he does. “S’alright, hun. Lemme get you something to put on.”

The screen door creaks when he goes back inside briefly to fetch something only to come back a few seconds later with a big, cotton sweater that reeks of him. It looks well loved, some remnant of his younger years, and even from a distance, you can smell the distinct smoky aroma clinging to the fabric. 

When he kneels in front of you, you nearly go cross-eyed at the realisation that even on his knees, he’s as tall as you. The bulk of his waist forces your legs to spread around him. 

“C’mon, arms up,” John commands, barely waiting until you’ve raised your arms above your head before helping guide your head and arms into the right holes. 

Dragging the sweater down the way he does forces it to rub over your nipples, sending a shock through you. If you had any less self-control, your teeth might actually chatter together. 

“There we go,” he says, fluffing out the sweater around your waist before resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, the gesture coming so naturally to him that you doubt he’s even noticed the placement of his hands. “Much better. That’ll warm you up.”

He isn't wrong. You’ve already worked up a sweat. 

Late night rain.

It comes down in buckets, a dark slate rapping hard against the window pane. A bolt of lightning flickers across the horizon off in the distance. White striations across an otherwise dark sky. About thirty seconds later, thunder rumbles. 

You peek from between the blinds, chewing your lip nervously. You’ve never driven in rain this bad, but with supper done and the dishes washed, there’s no excuse for you to stay any longer. Still, the rain comes down so heavily that despite your timidity, you briefly contemplate asking John if you can stay a little longer. At least until it lets up a bit; until your headlights won’t blind you reflecting off the puddles on the drive home. 

Someone else pulls the blinds further apart.

“There’s no way in hell you’re going out in that,” John says from behind you, practically growling his words. Daring you to contradict him. 

You glance over your shoulder to find him right there at your back, staring out the window. He’s so close that you can smell the red sauce on his flannel from dinner and make out the flecks of grey in his beard that are almost masked by the darker hairs. 

“It’s not…that bad…”

“Sweetheart, don’t piss me off,” he warns.

The blinds shuttle back together with a clatter when you finally let go of them. 

“I could—I could take the couch,” you offer. 

“Sweetheart,” John sighs, looking down at you meaningfully.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“I’m not gonna take the big, comfy bed and leave you with the couch.” When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “And don’t even try arguing. I won’t hear it.”

There’s not much you can say to dissuade him after that. The furrow of his brow lets you know he’s made up his mind; no ifs, ands, or buts. Besides, there’s a not-so-secret part of you that’s relieved that you don’t have to drive home in this weather. You’re an average driver on a good day. You don’t need your last moments before shuffling off this mortal coil to involve hydroplaning on the highway before ramming into the guardrail. 

John gives you a shirt of his to change into for after your shower, which you spend far too long in, scrubbing your body with his shower gel and quivering under the warm water. When you pull it on, you bring the collar up to your nose to smell. The same patent smoky scent, musky like ambergris and leather. Intoxicating. It makes the blood rush through your ear like a conch shell, the ocean swirling behind your eardrum. 

You hadn’t asked for underwear, content at first to keep on the same pair, but after your shower, you cringe at the thought of putting your day-old panties back on. Besides, his shirt is long enough to cover anything indecent. 

He sits on the edge of the bed when you come out, the concern on his brow melting away at the sight of you. 

“Practically a dress on you, isn’t it?” John says, voice a little wondrous. His eyes drag over you, tip to toe. 

You fiddle with the ends of it. “…Are you sure you want me to take the bed?” 

“Wouldn’t be fair. It’s yours for the night.” His lips quirk up at the corners when you frown. “Don’t worry about me—I’ve slept in worse places before.”

“Like where?” you ask dubiously.

“Tents. Abandoned buildings. Shacks. In the back of a moving van a few times. You wouldn’t believe half the places we used to make camp. Definitely no place for pretty girls like you.”

His condescending tone vaguely annoys you, but it’s hard to dig into your irritation when he thumbs the edge of the shirt you’re wearing and you realise that he’s just a few raised inches away from noticing that you don’t have any panties on. You should’ve just put your old ones back on, but it’s far too late now. 

You clear your throat instead. “We could…um…we could share.” 

You don’t know what possesses you to offer to share the bed, but the words are already gone, out of your mouth and in the air. John cocks an eyebrow.

“Unless you don’t want to,” you amend. 

“Don’t know about that, sweetheart,” he rasps. “…I snore like a bear.”

“That’s okay. I’m a pretty deep sleeper.”

John scrutinises you a bit longer, looking for any sign of hesitancy. You know he’d squash your offer in a second if he found any wariness in your gaze. 

“Alright,” he finally concedes, letting go of your shirt and slapping his thighs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up and can’t fall back asleep because of my snoring.”

After his shower, during which you lie on your side facing away from the bathroom door, stomach fraught with nerves as you consider the fact that he’s naked in the ensuite, you hear him come out and rummage around in the dresser for a change of clothes. You lie beside him with your stomach twisted in knots, your hands shoved under the pillow and staring resolutely at the wall. 

The appropriateness of sleeping in the same bed beside your boss isn't lost on you, but you're too far into this now.

The bed dips when he settles onto the other side, and the sudden absence of light when he switches the bedside lamp off nearly makes you cheep. 

He breathes heavily, you notice, particularly when he finally falls asleep. It’s a deep, rumbling sound—not entirely unlike a bear, though you can’t really confirm that for certain seeing as how you’ve never slept beside a bear before. 

Those are the thoughts that would signal the approach of sleep if you weren’t soon to be engulfed by it. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to a rough hand stroking your back leisurely. There’s a hard chest under you, your cheek propped up on a pillowy pec that rises and falls with his breaths. Sleep bobs around in you like a toulouse decanter. You struggle to keep an eye open, certain that there’s something you need to tend to, but then his hand slides down your back again to curve over your rump and sleep drags you back down. 

You wake up again to your breath wafting back into your mouth, your face shoved into the crook of a man’s neck. Humid, hot. You’re lipping at the skin of his neck, little tongue darting out to lap up a bead of sweat, salty on your tongue. 

Your cunt pulses against his leg, toes curling when John drags his hand up your thigh and hitches it higher up around his waist. 

“Baby?” he groans, his voice still rusty from sleep. The sound is a rough burr up your spine. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Couldn’ get comfy.”

“You hot?” he asks.

The denial on the tip of your tongue slips back down your throat when he plants his foot on the bed and draws his leg up, pressing the meat of his thigh into your throbbing sex. 

“Here, lemme help you—” he groans, reaching down to ruck up your shirt, dragging it up over your breasts and helping manoeuvre your arms out of the holes. It gets tossed off the bed onto the floor. 

Now your breasts are flat on his chest, smushed against his ribcage. It registers somewhere in the back of your head as inappropriate, but sleep pushes that thought away, focusing instead on the discomfort of moving around when you just want to settle back down and go back to bed. 

It must be the heat making you act this way. 

“Shit—sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, shifting under you. “M’hot too.”

He plants a hand on your ass and heaves you up his chest, giving him enough room to wiggle out of his boxers. It pushes your breasts right into his face, your nipples mere inches from his mouth. When his tongue pokes out to wet his upper lip, it nicks your pebbled nipple. 

A hard length presses against your butt when you’re slid back down, the tip wet when it catches against your skin. 

“Jus’ ignore it, sweetie,” John mumbles, petting a hand down your back. 

You lie like that for a while, splayed over his body. Want simmering just under your skin. Flustered and exhausted all at once, sleep-drained; not a drop of strength in your muscles. 

The heat is just—

Scorching. Dizzying. You feel featherbrained, slipping in and out of sleep, biting off the whimpers that threaten to crawl up your throat when John tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs to wrench them apart, spreading them around his hips again. 

Distantly, you remember that the man under you is at least twenty years your senior. Your employer at that. A man now palming your butt, sinking his fingers into the flesh and rumbling low in his throat. 

It’s wrong—flagrantly wrong. You know that you should say something, that you should get up and tell him that you’re going to sleep on the couch instead. But your tongue is too thick for your mouth. And your thoughts are a sticky paste. The pulse between your thighs empties out all the common sense from your head. 

His palms are slick on your skin. 

Your breathing grows shallow when a hard length suddenly pushes between your thighs as well. 

When the mushroomed head nudges at your opening, you flinch, heart thumping ferociously against your chest. 

“John—John—” you breathe, panicked. As if to warn him. As if he weren’t planting both feet on the bed and lifting his hips. 

As if it wasn’t his hands, warm on your waist, dragging you down onto the shaft spearing into you. 

Your blood is molten hot in your veins. Sticky hands and sticky fingers curl into his chest hair. Your head thumps against his pecs, too weak to hold it up, lipping at the damp skin of his chest. 

“It hurts—” you bleat, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

“I know, baby, I know,” John pants. He draws his hips back just to press forward again, deeper this time. Filling you up more than before. “I’m sorry, baby—I can’t, it’s just…too good. Shit.”

Resolve in tatters. Shattered like his willpower, like his determination not to fuck the girl twenty years his junior sleeping beside him in his bed. 

His hips pump up into yours, bouncing you in his lap. Each thrust plunging his cock deeper into your pussy. It’d be painful if you weren’t so wet, but you’re dripping, arousal making you leak around his shaft and slickening his way. 

Sleep still rattles around in your brain, but not even the fog of sleep can shake the ever intensifying realisation that you’re fucking your boss. No two ways around it—breasts naked against his hirsute chest; pussy wet and stuffed to the hilt with a big dick. Knocked senseless by it. 

The veins of his cock drag over the viscid walls of your cunt with every thrust. He must like the involuntary noises you make because he loses his rhythm when you cry out, growling out a string of unintelligible curses. His body feels bigger like this somehow, biceps and forearms bulging where they’re wrapped around your waist, hips forcing your legs to spread wide around him, the ache sinking deep into your muscle, into your bones.  

When you look up at him, his eyes are more hooded than usual, the blue of his irises so dark that they’re almost black. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts, big arms like steel bands around your waist, holding you tight to his chest so you have nowhere to run. “Jus’ let…jus’ let daddy come and—oh Christ, fuck, fuck…—jus’ lemme come and we’ll go back to bed, okay, sweetie?”

“I’m gonna…” you pant, trailing off when he gets a little rough, pumping harder up into you. The sound of your pussy squelching around his length makes your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open. 

“Yeah, yeah, you—you come too, baby. Jus’ need to take the edge off, both of us.”

You squeal when he reaches a hand down to dig his fingers into your butt cheek and it makes you tense up, walls tightening around his dick. One well-placed swat hard enough to make the flesh of your ass jiggle and you come, clenching up so tight that his next few thrusts are slowed by your spasming walls, forcing him to really cram his cock into your hole. 

“Christ, that’s cute,” John growls, his pupils blown out. 

It hurts to come that hard; makes your belly cramp up and everything. Whatever gibberish spills from your mouth gets lost in the aftermath. 

That’s when the temperature goes from hot to blistering. The muscles of his thighs tense, straining with his impending release. Even his grip around your waist gets tighter, his self-control steamrolled under his approaching climax, oblivious to the way you squeal and squirm when it threads the delicate needle of being too much. 

“Sorry, baby,” he apologises, voice treading gravel. “M’gonna mess your pussy up a bit—”

“Wait—wait—” you gasp, trying fruitlessly to lift yourself up, his arms keeping you pinned tight to his chest. “You’re gonna—John, you’re gonna come inside me—”

His hips thrust up hard at your words, one last rough pump that has him digging his heels into the mattress and clenching his jaw, the veins in his neck protruding. You feel it flood inside you, hot spurts of cum right up against your womb. He curses when he comes, eyelids sliding shut, lost in the sensation of emptying himself into you. 

A few last, punishing thrusts that make your teeth clack together. More heat spurting into you. A murmured oh fuck before his legs slide back down the bed, spreading out over the mattress. 

The blanket is somewhere at the foot of the bed, all scrunched up and nearly dangling off the edge. You only start to shiver when the sweat on your back finally begins to cool. 

When he pulls you off his cock, you whimper, a hot flash snaking through you. Oh Christ did he plug you up good. Stringy, viscous cum leaks from your hole, leaving a little puddle on his thigh when you slide off his chest and to the side a bit. 

“Oh baby,” he tuts softly, reaching between your legs to feel where you’re wet and a little swollen. “Sorry, sweetheart…wanna get cleaned up?”

“No…” you rasp, so dazed that you can’t even lift your cheek off his chest. 

Exhaustion has never ridden you this hard before, but considering the circumstances…—perhaps you’re lucky to be conscious at all, is all you mean. There’s not a chance of you having enough energy to do anything as rigorous as showering though. 

“Okay, baby. Little kiss?” John asks in a murmur, lifting your head up by your chin and swooping down for a kiss. Not even giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth is on yours. 

His lips glide slick against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he needs a good, deep kiss to ground him. A wet twisting of tongues; a thick finger stroking up your neck. He can’t stop touching you. Running a hand up your spine and curving it back down over your ass. Featherlight touches meant to calm you down. His kisses grow sticky, lingering; each one almost the last until he pulls you in for another. 

“Go back to sleep, okay?” John says, still speaking low enough to push you back under. He smooths his hand down your back again. 

You fall back asleep with a load in your belly and your head in a tizzy. The you of tomorrow is going to have a lot to contend with from the you of tonight.

[empresskylo]

of fucking course simon riley has your location on. he needs to make sure you're safe. likes to keeps tabs on you. he says he’s completely normal about it, but that is a lie--he obsessively checks it.

and he knows all your common locations: your apartment, your friend’s place, the grocery store, the target you like to go to. so when he sees you at a random address one evening, your little marker on the map not moving,--meaning you’re not just driving past--he raises a brow. he immediately texts you. and when you don’t respond, he’s calling you.

and when you don’t answer… he’s in his truck faster than he thought he could move, beelining it straight for your mysterious location.

and when he pulls up in front of someone’s house, watching as you walk out the front door, laughing at something the man trailing you says, he’s furious. he was worried you might have been hurt. in a sticky situation. but cheating on him didn’t even cross his mind.

he storms out of the truck and you look at him with a gasp. “simon? what’re you doing—?”

“who the fuck is that?” he demands, gesturing to the guy behind you.

“simon…” you say exasperated. “i told you yesterday I was meeting up with friends to plan her bachelorette party.”

his eyes soften slightly, but he’s still reaching for you, hands wrapping around your arms. “doesn’t answer my question.”

“this is her childhood friend.” he glares over your shoulder at him, like he doesn’t believe you. like he wants to kill him. “her gay childhood friend.” you add, hands on your hips, a little annoyed he’d embarrass you like this.

when he hauls you into his truck, he takes a few beats before he apologizes. “m’sorry, love. you weren’t answering your phone and when i saw you at some random—“ he stops mid-sentence as he glances over at you in the passenger seat, expecting you to be glaring at him, ready to tear him a new one. but much to his surprise, you’re taking your shirt off.

“what’re you doing?” he asks, his hands tightening on the wheel to stop from reaching over and touching you.

“that was the hottest thing you’ve ever done,” you whisper, a little embarrassed to admit it. but protective simon? the simon who was ready to beat a guy up just for making you laugh? yeah, that turned you on even if it shouldn’t.

he’s thankful it’s nighttime so no one driving past can see you topless in his truck. he’s also thankful the roads are rather empty this late on a weekday.

“wait till we get home, yeah?” he asks, his voice strained.

you shake your head. “simon, please,” you whine. “i can’t wait.”

he groans in his throat, knowing your place is only 5 more minutes away. he’s already hardening in his pants, and he’s tempted to pull over and drag you into the back seat. but he doesn’t. instead, he reaches his large hand and slides it over your thigh, his eyes on the road as he pushes your skirt up. and you bite your lip, holding back a moan as he rubs you over your underwear. “so fuckin’ wet,” he says astonished.

you buck your hips up and he almost laughs. you weren’t kidding, you really couldn’t wait. he slips his fingers past your panties and dips them into your heat and you grab the door of the car for support, shutting your eyes. he starts a steady pace, his fingers making obscene sounds as they fuck you. you groan and mewl and simon worries he might not make it home either.

it takes you just about a minute to climax, your heat pulsing rapidly around his two fingers, earning a growl from simon. “fuckin’ hell, love,” he breathes, amazed at how fast and hard you came. loving that it was all because of him.

he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex and he’s storming around to your side, trying to get you to put your shirt back on, desperate to get you inside. he hauls you over his shoulder, his hand resting on your skirt so no one accidentally gets a free show. “naughtily little thing,” he hums to himself. “can't wait to properly punish you.”

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