#out-classed out-paced replaced

[secretly-a-catamount]

Eldrich Mutants isn’t an Ao3 tag, my disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined.

[skruffie]

man, I think I might end up being a for real optician

[radlegowaffle]

i think a lot about when someone told me the kanji for rain looks like youre looking out a window at rain (雨）

[dostoyevsky-official]

The Elite College Students Who Can’t Read Books

Nicholas Dames has taught Literature Humanities, Columbia University’s required great-books course, since 1998. He loves the job, but it has changed. Over the past decade, students have become overwhelmed by the reading. College kids have never read everything they’re assigned, of course, but this feels different. Dames’s students now seem bewildered by the thought of finishing multiple books a semester. His colleagues have noticed the same problem. Many students no longer arrive at college—even at highly selective, elite colleges—prepared to read books.

This development puzzled Dames until one day during the fall 2022 semester, when a first-year student came to his office hours to share how challenging she had found the early assignments. Lit Hum often requires students to read a book, sometimes a very long and dense one, in just a week or two. But the student told Dames that, at her public high school, she had never been required to read an entire book. She had been assigned excerpts, poetry, and news articles, but not a single book cover to cover.

[...] Twenty years ago, Dames’s classes had no problem engaging in sophisticated discussions of Pride and Prejudice one week and Crime and Punishment the next. Now his students tell him up front that the reading load feels impossible. It’s not just the frenetic pace; they struggle to attend to small details while keeping track of the overall plot.

No comprehensive data exist on this trend, but the majority of the 33 professors I spoke with relayed similar experiences. Many had discussed the change at faculty meetings and in conversations with fellow instructors. [...] Daniel Shore, the chair of Georgetown’s English department, told me that his students have trouble staying focused on even a sonnet.

Failing to complete a 14-line poem without succumbing to distraction suggests one familiar explanation for the decline in reading aptitude: smartphones. Teenagers are constantly tempted by their devices, which inhibits their preparation for the rigors of college coursework—then they get to college, and the distractions keep flowing. “It’s changed expectations about what’s worthy of attention,” Daniel Willingham, a psychologist at UVA, told me. “Being bored has become unnatural.” Reading books, even for pleasure, can’t compete with TikTok, Instagram, YouTube. In 1976, about 40 percent of high-school seniors said they had read at least six books for fun in the previous year, compared with 11.5 percent who hadn’t read any. By 2022, those percentages had flipped.

[...] Mike Szkolka, a teacher and an administrator who has spent almost two decades in Boston and New York schools, told me that excerpts have replaced books across grade levels. “There’s no testing skill that can be related to … Can you sit down and read Tolstoy? ” he said. And if a skill is not easily measured, instructors and district leaders have little incentive to teach it. [...] The pandemic, which scrambled syllabi and moved coursework online, accelerated the shift away from teaching complete works.

[...] But it’s not clear that instructors can foster a love of reading by thinning out the syllabus. Some experts I spoke with attributed the decline of book reading to a shift in values rather than in skill sets. Students can still read books, they argue—they’re just choosing not to. Students today are far more concerned about their job prospects than they were in the past. Every year, they tell Howley that, despite enjoying what they learned in Lit Hum, they plan to instead get a degree in something more useful for their career.

[...] For years, Dames has asked his first-years about their favorite book. In the past, they cited books such as Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre. Now, he says, almost half of them cite young-adult books. Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series seems to be a particular favorite.

[pathologicalreid]

xoxo | s.r.

in which your daughter goes to the BAU to hand out her extra Valentines

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: horrible tooth rotting fluff, chemist!reader and leah, the spencer reid dilf agenda, valentine's day, reader wears pink (it's FESTIVE) word count: 1.47k a/n: happy valentine's day my loves!!!!

You had just finished helping your daughter put her visitor badge over her head before she proudly approached the two agents manning the security desk.

She brandished two Valentine’s Day cards for them, grinning while they looked down at her in surprise. You watched them tentatively take the cardstock from your three-year-old while she teetered back and forth in her pink Mary Janes. They thanked her while you pulled your visitor badge on. “C’mon, Leah,” you said, holding your hand out for her to take, “Let’s go see Daddy.”

“Daddy!” She chirped, her pure, childhood joy causing people in the lobby to stare. Most people were already vaguely aware of who she was, and even if they weren’t, it’s difficult to be truly bothered by a kid wearing heart antennae. Adjusting her grip on her basket of Valentines, she led you to the elevator, practically dragging you through Quantico.

Her hand couldn’t quite reach the button in the elevator, accidentally hitting the number four while wavering on her tippy toes. “Here, lovey,” you said, reaching over her and pushing the number six for her.

Leah beamed up at you. “Thank you,” she whispered, lowering herself and standing next to you, tugging on your pink sweater in an attempt to get your attention—as if she had ever lost it. “You wanna Valentine?” Her voice was soft, as if you were exchanging state secrets in the elevator, sweetly leaning her head against your leg. She stumbled over the name of the holiday a bit, replacing the second ‘n’ with an ‘m.’

“I’ll get one after everyone else,” you reassured her, adjusting her headband and smiling at the way the hearts bobbled.

She nodded confidently, making faces at her reflection in the elevator doors as you continued your way up.

You held your breath as the doors opened, once again holding your hand out for her to take so you could enter the bullpen in an orderly fashion, but as soon as they were open, she had taken off, the door being held open for someone else, leaving a perfect gap for her to slip through. There was barely enough time for you to call, “Incoming,” before she ran directly into Luke.

Thanking Anderson for holding the door for you, you followed Leah into the bullpen at a much slower pace and locked eyes with your husband, sighing in relief at the fact that you’d made it with little stress.

Your daughter had already been rescued from a room full of tall people by Dave, who’d hoisted her onto someone’s desk, so they were nearly at eye level. “Happy Valentime’s, Dave,” she said excitedly, urgently rifling through her basket to find a treat that she deemed worthy of his receipt.

Rossi smiled at her, “Happy Valentine’s Day, kiddo. What have you got there?” You weren’t sure if he was faking interest for the sake of your toddler, but either way, you were grateful for the opportunity to sneak by them, approaching Spencer’s desk.

He powered off his computer monitor as you leaned on the edge of his desk. “Hey,” he greeted, leaning his head up so you could plant a quick kiss on his lips. “Did she have fun?”

You nodded, peeking over your shoulder to see Dave walking Leah around to hand out Valentines to the entire office. “We severely underestimated the number of parents who keep their kids home for Valentine’s Day,” you informed him. Leah’s daycare class had been nearly empty when you picked her up early.

“What does that mean for us?” He asked, placing his hand on your knee and giving it a squeeze.

Raising your eyebrows, you grinned impishly, “It means we’re bringing a lot of lollipops home with us.”

Spencer chuckled, eyes following Leah as she made her way to Emily’s office, jumping up the steps and giggling at the sound effects that Tara made when she landed. “How was your morning?” He asked nonchalantly, and since nothing Spencer ever did was nonchalant, you knew he was on a fishing expedition.

The corners of your mouth quirked up while he shuffled the papers on his desk, preparing to spend his lunch with you and Leah. “Oh, I dropped Leah off and then went to work. I only had one class to teach, Physical Chemistry, as you know. I had some time before I needed to be back at the daycare, so I decided to stop at home and found a large bouquet of red and pink roses on the kitchen counter. They didn’t belong there, so I tossed them in the trash before heading here.”

“You did not,” Spencer challenged, grinning up at you, pushing his tongue against his teeth like he did when he was holding in a laugh.

You laughed breathily, hiding your smile behind your hand until Spencer reached up and took your hand in his. “No,” you acquiesced, “But I have no idea where we’re going to put two dozen roses.”

He pretended to think about it for a moment. “How about the kitchen counter?”

Humming, you leaned down to kiss him again. “Works for me,” you murmured to him on your way back up. You turned your head to find your toddler, seeing that Penelope had made her way to the bullpen and was putting a red feather boa around Leah’s neck.

Listening in on their conversation, you frowned when you overheard Leah complaining that the boa wasn’t pink. “Leah,” Spencer called her name, having overheard the conversation himself. “What do you say to Aunt Penelope?”

The three-year-old spun around, stumbling a bit when she tried to come to a stop, before looking up at Garcia and jumping, “Thank you! Matches my butterfly ears!” She fumbled the word ‘butterfly’ a bit in all of her excitement—bubberfly.

Your husband looked at you, confused. “Butterfly ears?”

“Antennae, obviously,” you told him, shaking your head in faux disappointment that he didn’t understand what she was talking about.

He shook his head in disbelief. “Hey, princess, c’mere,” he said, waving over your daughter.

You waved to JJ and Emily as they joined the impromptu gathering, with everyone in the bullpen watching while Leah skipped over to her dad. “Hi, Daddy,” she greeted, lifting her arms for him to pick her up, which he did happily.

“Hi, baby. Happy Valentine’s Day,” he replied, sweeping a stray strand of hair from her forehead. He’d left before you got her dressed this morning, so he hadn’t been able to see her in her festive outfit, complete with a pink and red tutu.

Comfortably sitting in her father’s lap, she giggled when he tickled her side. “Happy Valentime’s Day, Daddy,” she managed to squeak out. Sighing when he finally gave her a break, she asked, “Lunch?”

You smiled softly, “Soon, lovey.” The three of you had planned to do lunch as a family, and Penelope had promised to take Leah for a sleepover so you could go out for dinner—you were nervous, and she was thrilled.

She kicked her feet contentedly, telling Spencer about the cards she had given away at the security desk in a hushed voice while you watched an exchange across the bullpen. Luke was leaning toward Tara, holding his lollipop in his hand, “What flavor did you get?”

Tara peered at him suspiciously. “Blue raspberry,” she replied.

“I’ll trade you a green apple,” he offered, extending his arm out for the swap.

Turning in her chair, Tara scoffed, setting her Valentine on her desk, “Not a chance.”

A small gasp to your side caught your attention. “No trades, Newbie!” Leah shouted from her perch.

Instead of turning on your daughter, Luke immediately pointed at Garcia, “You coached her!”

Penelope feigned offense, holding a hand to her chest and looking around the bullpen, “It is my duty as her godmother to warn her against certain people.”

“Meaning me?”

“If the shoe fits, Newbie,” Penelope replied, leaning against a vacant desk while she awaited Luke’s response.

He looked over at Leah now. “How did she even hear me?”

You shrugged. “She has freakishly good hearing; we’re thinking of having her tested.”

Spencer nudged you at your joke, smiling slightly, “She saw you.”

Sighing in defeat, Luke gave Leah an exaggerated pout, “I’m sorry I tried to make a trade. Can you forgive me?”

Leah nodded with a toothy smile. Luckily, she was three, and things were easy to get over. “Hey, do I get a Valentine?” Spencer asked, playing with the hearts on her headband.  

Humming, she shifted on his lap. “Mommy put all of the pink ones in a baggie for us.”

You flashed a grin back at your husband, pulled a Watermelon lollipop out of your purse, and handed it to him. “I’m very good at what I do.”

[kurooh]

WORLD CLASS SINNER ★ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso fucking you nasty.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, car sex, creampies, overstimulation, crying, spanking, slight public sex, mirror sex, spit, hair pulling, freaky shit, motorcycle sex, riding (multiple things), filming, squirting, cunnilingus. | 4.7K words

xoxo, juno. happy belated birthday to satoru <3

GOJO SATORU.

“for the record, i love you,” satoru pecks a kiss to your cheek and his lips smack, “it is december 7th and ‘m getting my gift early.”

“it is not early!” you protest, snatching the phone from him and wiggling over to the side so you can mount it on the tall dresser. the camera app is open, overlooking the bed and ready to record satoru’s birthday celebration this year. bits of dry frosting color the corners of his lips, serving as the evidence of the cake you made him yourself.

“uh, no need to move so much,” satoru exhales coolly, hands finding purchase on your hips, “you said we’d take it slow, didn’t ya?”

“that was then,” you purr, voice low and sultry, “and this is now. unless . . you actually want me to?”

he shakes his head immediately, cheeks flushing a rosy pink while he pouts his lips. satoru sneaks a glance downwards, diamond eyes feeling a little wet at the sight — you’re sitting on his cock, with your cunt squeezing just above the creamy ring at his base.

“i thought so, ‘toru,” you giggle, blowing a kiss in the direction of the camera. it’ll surely add to the excitement when he’s watching this by himself some time along — after all, nothing else can get him off. your hands splay out on his chest, nails grazing his skin lightly.

“anyway, i’ve just been thinking . . and you’ve been such a good boy this year. i ought to spoil you for your birthday, hm?”

“what did you just call me?” satoru sputters, biting back a laugh although his voice trembles. “did you just say—”

the words die on his tongue immediately. your expression twists into one of pure bliss as you start to rock your hips into him, setting up a decent pace that has you crying out in delight. of course, he has no choice but to join you, his head tipping back while his eyes trace your features. god, you feel good — so tight, so hot, and oh so perfect. but sex feels even better because he’s pleasing you; seeing you falling apart on his cock all because of him will always get him going.

“shit, baby,” satoru gasps, groaning loudly when your fingers tangle in his snowy hair, “faster, please.”

you nod frantically, lifting yourself up and slamming back down on his cock so hard it’s like you’re being split open in the best way possible. out of habit, your fingers wander to your clit, and he pushes them away the moment he sees.

“no, don’t,” he replaces your fingers with his own and lets his free hand settle at the small of your back for support, “let me do it, babe.”

“toru,” you whimper as he flicks the sensitive bud around, “y-you always make me feel so good.”

“‘course i do, sweetheart,” he grunts, starting to jerk his hips upward. each deep thrust pushes his cock into places only he can touch, and your mouth falls open, face crumbling. “here, jus’ arch your back a little—yeah, you got it.”

satoru’s voice wavers as he tells you what to do, setting up a new position and angle for him to fuck into you at. beads of sweat roll down his temples while his chest heaves in exertion, the best kind — he’s never truly gotten tired when he’s fucking you. not only does he have the stamina of a wild stallion, but really, how could he get tired when you’re looking like an angel above him, crying out his name in a voice that’s a harmony if he’s ever heard one.

“so fuckin’ beautiful,” satoru grits out, eyes regretfully squeezing shut for a moment, “god, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep squeezin’ like that.”

curses and sobs of euphoria fall from your lips. as the seconds pass, you’re only getting more intoxicated by the heat between you. misty tears make your eyes shine, and arousal pools deep in your stomach, growing more pronounced with each shove of his cock into your sweet spot. your legs are trembling on either side of him, and your tummy’s slightly more rounded than usual—satoru’s cock is in your guts.

he feels you start to tense up, notices a few stray tears falling down your cheeks. this is it. “l-look at me, baby,” satoru pleads, as if he’ll die without it, “look at me when you cum.”

it’s perfect — you look directly into his eyes, and the camera captures your orgasm perfectly. your cunt flutters and spasms around his cock, and you’re shaking so hard you fall on top of him, flinching away from his insistent fingers. it takes everything he has to hold the urge to cum back, but he manages to pull it off, not even spilling a drop.

“toru,” you mumble into his chest, shivering as he strokes away the sweat on your back, “why didnt you—?”

“savin’ it,” he breathes, teeth sinking into his lower lip in an attempt to try and ignore the way your walls are flexing around him. “hmph. as the birthday boy, i expect you to blow another candle for me.”

your head lifts immediately and you shoot him a glare, eyes narrowed in faux annoyance. “you did not just say that.”

“careful, careful,” he hisses, hands flying to your hips, “don’t wanna accidentally cum right now.”

“right, but you’ll never push me off,” you challenge him, playfully wiggling against his pelvis.

“that is not fair!” satoru whines, looking ridiculous with the dried blue frosting at the corners of his lips. “don’t torture me, pleaseee.”

GETO SUGURU.

“keep your eyes open, sweetheart.”

“‘m sorry, sugu, i just—”

his hand comes down hard against your ass, and the crack of the slap reverberates through the room. you shudder, blearily opening your eyes and looking into the mirror.

behind you, suguru’s flipping a bit of his dark hair over his shoulder and out of the way while holding onto your waist to keep you steady. you can see how pathetic you look in your reflection — drool freely slips from your mouth and you look completely dazed, all sweaty and tired while hearts spin in your eyes.

“hm, that’s more like it. want you to watch yourself, honey.”

you nod, eyes tracing the edges of your thighs and ridges of his abs in the reflection. suguru’s got you on your hands and knees, making you look fucked out and fucked up.

“s-sugu, i wanna touch my clit—it’s not enough.”

he raises a dark brow, eyes narrowing as you slip a hand between your thighs and find your clit with your fingers. now, he settles his hands at your hips, lifting you up slightly to pound into you at a new angle.

“alright. only if you don’t fall over, sweetheart.”

what a bastard. of course he has to set you up with an impossible condition like that — the new placement of his hands is the first sign of your literal downfall. suguru closely observes your reflection in the mirror before his own: you’re covered in bite marks and hickeys, with a sheen of sweat all over your body, which makes your skin look sticky. your tits swing, building momentum each time he slams into you.

beneath the sound of ass clapping, suguru can hear your pathetic, fucked out cries—this is the result of too many orgasms and being an annoying brat to him all day. his blood boils with both frustration and arousal when he recalls a particular memory, so he reaches forward, gathering your hair into one hand before pulling you backwards. messing around with your hair is something that holds a special place in his heart; he loves it whenever you touch his hair in any way, and the same goes for yours.

“takin’ it like such a slut,” suguru croons, his dark tresses falling into his face, “but i really can’t hear you that well. thought i made myself clear when i said i want the whole apartment building to hear how well i fuck you.”

“y-yeah, you did,” you gasp, back arching beautifully, “sugu, need you to touch my clit.”

he smiles wickedly. instead of allowing yourself to fall forward, you’ve decided to give up and steady yourself at the expense of rubbing your clit. suguru almost wants to give you a reward for that.

“not right now, honey,” he revels in the frustrated sob you let out, watching in the mirror as your face crumbles in some kind of distress. so dramatic, he thinks after mentally laughing. as if he’d leave you unsatisfied — how many times have you cum so far? “someone’s fucking greedy, hm? tell you what, sweetheart. cum without your clit ‘n i’ll eat your pussy up right after.”

it’s a good enough deal, and it only seems more enticing when he sticks his tongue out in the mirror, showing off the silver ball in the middle of it. his tongue piercing, and your favorite part of him eating you out.

“o-okay,” you agree tearfully, and he tugs you back by the hair so you’re facing him.

“tell me, tell the neighbors, who’s fucking you this good? answer me, honey.”

“you, suguru!” you moan loudly, feeling a surprising pressure building in your lower stomach, “i-it’s you, ‘s always you!”

suguru nods, letting go of your hair and slipping his hand beneath your chin rather gently. then he lifts your head and tips it back. “open that pretty mouth for me.”

you oblige immediately, going so far as to stick your tongue out for him. he spits right onto your tongue, and it tastes a little minty because of his chapstick and tea when you swallow. the gesture is an erotic expression of dominance and possession, and it’s one that has your cunt quivering around his cock. he lets you go, making eye contact with you through the mirror.

“oh, i feel you squeezing me,” he grunts, smacking your ass and groaning when your cunt automatically bears down harder. “looks like i’ll be devouring that sweet pussy of yours, honey.”

“hah, i need it,” mascara tracks darken your cheeks as fresh tears roll down, “t-think ‘m gonna cum, jus’ like you asked.”

“such a good girl for me,” he praises, egging you on by pressing his palm into your lower stomach, “my girl listens so well, doesn’t she? cum for me.”

the creaking of the bed grows louder as he pounds his cock into you harder, forcing a mixture of slick and cum to pour out from your used hole in glossy strings that stick to your thighs. he’s breathing heavily behind you, pressing into your tummy just right, and oh.

oh, you’re about to make a fucking mess.

a pitched sob tears from your throat when you cum on his cock, pussy gushing all over him and onto the bedsheets. sparkling droplets of cum race down your thighs and your entire body shakes on his cock, gripping him so tightly that neither of you can move.

“s-sugu, ‘m tired,” you gasp, stars flashing across your vision. “feeling kinda . . lightheaded.”

“you’ve gotta rest, sweetheart,” suguru laughs, and it rumbles out from the depths of his chest. he leans so far backwards his back cracks, and then he hands you an open bottle of water.

“what—what’s the record now?”

“ten in an hour,” he strokes your back with loving fingers, curling up beside you even though you’re upside down on the bed together. “let’s try to break it again in a couple hours.”

“how about tomorrow?” you suggest with a yawn.

“okay, okay. tomorrow night, my balls are shriveling up right now.”

“ew, sugu.” your nose crinkles and you scoot an inch away, too exhausted to move further.

“oh, stop it. it’s your fault anyways.”

NANAMI KENTO.

“kento—kennn,” you whine breathlessly, glossy lips parting to release a useless warning. “y-you’re gonna make me cum again, shit!”

“let me feel it, sweetheart,” kento croons, pressing his thumb particularly hard into your clit. the additional pressure has your head spinning too fast for you to even come up with a coherent thought as you orgasm with a drawn out whine on his cock for the nth time tonight. “that—that’s my good girl.”

beneath your bodies, the polished oak desk creaks dangerously, sounding far too tired for something that’s worth thousands. but kento doesn’t give one damn — he’d been stuck working overtime because of his shitty boss, who’d left him cooped up in his office, expecting his orders to be followed. the ultimatum was simple: do a ton of work or get fired.

kento had been so caught up he didn’t get the chance to call you, and the stress he’d been feeling began to ebb away once you stepped through his door with a bag of food from his favorite restaurant. one thing led to another, and soon enough the food had been abandoned somewhere and you ended up on the desk.

papers lazily drift off the desk’s surface while others are inevitably dampened by a mixture of wetness and spit, which leaks from your puffy cunt in thick trails down your skin. again and again, kento’s cock pushes even deeper, the blunt tip of it kissing your cervix rather roughly. meanwhile, his fingers toy with your swollen clit, drawing unrestrained cries from your lips while tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“ken, ‘s too much, i don’t think i can—”

“of course you can take more, angel,” kento huffs, firmly planting his hand beside your head for extra stability. the platinum of his watch glints in the light and his heavy breaths grow more ragged by the second, his chest heaving. sweaty strands of blond hair escape the gel’s hold, sticking to his slick forehead and making him look all the more ethereal above you. “i-i’m nowhere near finished with you.”

“oh god,” you whimper in realization, feeling that hot wave cresting in your tummy; it’s amplified by the rough rhythm of his cock and the attention he’s so generously lavishing your clit with. “g-god, ‘s coming . . ken, i think i’m gonna—”

a deep groan rushes out from him, all the way from the pits of his chest. hazel eyes squint as he watches your pussy push his cock out; it quivers momentarily before spraying cum all over his pelvis, and the sparkling droplets drip through his pubes, toward the shaft of his cock.

“did you just squirt, sweetheart?” kento asks curiously, heat rising to his cheeks and elsewhere.

“i think so,” you swallow nervously, too weak to sit up and look at the mess you’ve made all over him. “ken, i want you to cum inside me. stop holding it back.”

to be fair, this is probably the last time he’ll get the pleasure of fucking you on such an expensive desk. this despicable office he’s spent countless hours in is finally growing on him now that he’s got you in here like this — stripped naked and begging for his cum while making a mess of the shit all over his desk. and oh, he wishes he could see his boss’ face when he comes in demanding all of the finished work, only to be met with a sticky desk. the vision ignites an inferno in him and he guides his cock inside you, biting down on his lower lip when your greedy cunt swallows him.

“beg a little more for it, angel,” he chokes out, spreading your legs impossibly wider while drawing his hips back, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you. “need to know just how you want it.”

you gasp sharply, back arching off the desk and causing your tits to press into his clothed, sweaty chest. “i want you to fuck me like you mean it. t-then, fill me up. please.”

you can’t even say another word before kento’s holding your hips down and plowing into you with a sudden ferocity. if he’s lucky, he can get you to squirt again and maybe this time he can get a taste—yes, this is the thought he wants to cum to.

he shudders, “i love it—ugh, fuck—when you tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“give it to me,” you cry out, eyes fluttering shut while your legs wrap tightly around his waist, drawing him closer. “h-haven’t i earned it, ken?”

kento comes undone at your words, teeth clenching with a loud grunt as he finally spills inside you. your squeezing walls milk him for everything he has, absorbing each throb of his cock into their sticky softness. his mouth hangs open breathlessly, and he weakly pushes his hips forward before carefully landing on top of you.

wood splinters and snaps beneath you, and you both tumble to the floor atop a heap of the desk’s remains. “kento, what just happened—”

“it’s fine, honey. let’s rest for a moment before we leave.”

“you aren’t gonna clean it up? what about when you have to come in tomorrow?”

kento nuzzles his nose into your cheek with a blissful sigh. “thank you for making my last day at this job special. i’ll be quitting and moving to the other firm closer to the house.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“this is what ya wanted?” with a coy chuckle, toji flattens his tongue against your slit and licks a long, languid stripe upwards. he easily finds your clit, and swirls the sensitive bud around with the tip of his tongue.

“yeah, but not the teasing—” a breathy gasp pushes past your lips when he pushes two slick fingers inside you.

“heh heh. you’ll survive a little teasin’, dollface.”

he’s so flippant with his words, so nonchalant. but his fingers are anything but lazy or uncaring as he bullies them deeper into your cunt, curling them right against that sweet spongy spot inside you. with one leg over his shoulder and the other hanging off the edge of the backseat, you’re fully spread and at his mercy.

“come onnn, toji,” he rolls his eyes when he hears you whine, tonguing at the glossy slick that covers his fingers and the skin around your hole.

“you come on, princess. just wait a second, ‘kay?”

“but i’ve been waiting,” you huff, lower lip trembling in frustration as your fingers push through the dark tufts of his hair. you can’t help but breathe a little heavier, the building anticipation becoming suffocating in the small space of the car. “all night. since we left to go hang out with shiu.”

“don’t tell me that’s why you’ve been so handsy, doll. hmph, i had to pull over so ya wouldn’t make me crash the car.”

“i wasn’t even doing—”

“that much?” toji finishes your sentence for you, the corners of his lips quirking upwards when you look at him desperately. “weren’t ya trying to get in my pants while i was going sixty?”

before you can respond, toji interrupts your train of thought by spitting right onto your clit. the glossy glob trails down his fingers and becomes extra lube for him — he wraps his lips around your clit and starts to sporadically curl his fingers. heat sears its way across your face and your back arches off the backseat, eyes briefly scanning around to make sure the road’s still empty.

it’s dark out and difficult to tell, but what does it matter? there’s no need to focus on spotting other cars, you reason.

“ah, fuck!” the expletive leaves your lips in the form of a startled mewl, a delicious reaction to toji lightly nibbling at your clit with his teeth. the gesture is playful but it drives you wild and makes your head spin, thoughts turning into mush. “toji, that—that feels really good . . ”

impatient as ever, you push his head down, forcing his face into your pussy in a greedy attempt to get more.

“ah ah,” he snaps upwards, pulling free from your grip and moving on top of you easily. you’re nose to nose and he’s speaking directly over your lips, sharing your breath. “i get to eat this pussy my way. she’s all mine, don’t forget that.”

“f-fine,” you cede with a pout, which he kisses away, feeling proud of himself.

“be a good girl ‘n maybe you can ride my face. how’s that sound, doll?”

“it sounds good,” you squeeze your eyes shut when he finally returns to his old position between your thighs, two fingers stuffing your cunt while his tongue laps at your clit as though it’s the best ice cream ever. the temperature in the car seems to spike; your body’s growing hotter and hotter with each lick or curl of his fingers.

“greedy pussy wants some more, hm?”

“h-huh?” you ask dumbly, a little zoned out.

but toji doesn’t repeat himself. instead he shows you what he said by pushing a third finger into your already crowded hole, smirking in satisfaction when you suck him in despite your verbal protests of it being ‘too much’. toji��s big, every part of him, and you always take him even though you complain — what can he say?

“a-ah, so fuckin’ full,” you slur your words, rocking your hips into his fingers to make the stretch burn a little less. “tojiii, go slow.”

“again, girl,” he huffs, rolling his eyes dramatically, “don’t tell me what to do. ‘n you’ll be just fine, this pussy was made for me.”

there’s no point in arguing, so you just let your head lazily lean back against the door. you were supposed to look around for cars, especially police cars, and you’ve given up entirely, deciding to blame your inability to search on the foggy windows.

toji scissors his fingers in and out of you mercilessly, sucking your clit roughly and groaning to express his enjoyment. the wet squelches of your cunt make your cheeks burn hot; it’s just so filthy that you don’t even know how to react. on either side of his head, your thighs tremble, squeezing around him every now and then.

“mmm, you’re so fuckin’ sweet,” he smacks his lips loudly and devours your pussy in between each word, “shouldn’t have made you wait so goddamn long, dollface.”

“i told you,” is all you can utter, hips twisting wildly into his face, “jus’ like that, keep sucking my clit—fuck, yes. ‘m so close, gonna make me cum.”

“aw, i’m gonna make you cum?” he teases you, mocking your tone in a way that has shockwaves of excitement and anger shooting straight through your body. you can’t even find it in yourself to answer, and a sudden flash of red and blue has your eyes squeezing tightly shut.

“‘m cumming, ‘m c-cumming, toji!”

instead of using his tongue on your clit, toji decides to sit back and watch your cunt spasm. to prolong your orgasm and overstimulate you, he slaps your clit a few times, chuckling each time you jerk or nearly scream happily.

“hmph, ya ougtta taste yourself,” toji pulls his fingers out of you and shoves them into your mouth, feeling his cock swell in his pants as your tongue cleans his skin. it’s even better when you moan as you do so, thoroughly enjoying the taste of your cum. “how’s that, baby? if ya can sit up without any help, i’ll let you ride my face.”

a sharp knock on the window startles you, and the bright light of an officer’s flashlight shines in through the foggy glass. without wiping his face, toji reaches into the front seat and turns on the car, then rolls down the window. the light illuminates the glossy cum all over the lower half of his face, and yet he smiles widely.

“good evenin’, officer. what can i do for ya?”

KAMO CHOSO.

“keep it s-steady, baby,” despite his words, choso’s voice shakes, slightly muffled by his helmet. “gentle on the throttle—nghhh, fuck.”

one of his gloved hands is firmly holding onto your hip, gripping hard each time your cunt squeezes around his cock. the sky is now a dark curtain of nighttime, darkness speckled with stars above. in front of you, car lights flash occasionally out on the road. street signs are caught in the bright columns of the motorcycle’s headlights, greens and yellows glinting in the white glow.

you bounce your ass back on choso’s lap, nibbling at your lower lip and allowing a whimper to slip past your teeth. his cock is buried inside you, nestled deep in your hot, sticky walls and extremely sensitive. he lightly strokes his free fingers against your clit, but not too often that it’ll be a distraction—after all, you’re driving a motorcycle.

“there’s a light up ahead,” choso points out, heatwaves crashing over him despite the cool breeze.

“i see it, cho.”

the motorcycle slows as you apply the brake, and you smoothly stop at the light. instead of remaining bent forward, you sit back onto his lap, taking in the last few inches of his cock. choso startles beneath you with a gasping moan and rolls your clit between his fingers.

“cho,” you whimper breathlessly, leaning your head into his shoulder, “gimme a kiss.”

“okay,” he whispers, leaning in slowly. the helmets clash together, but he manages to peck his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. you whine when the light turns green, sitting forward to take off again. this time, your face burns as you steady your feet, and the position allows you to bounce back on his cock with newer efficiency.

“shit,” choso gasps, bucking his hips upwards to match your rhythm, “i—hah, you’re gonna make me cum, baby.”

it’s dangerous in so many ways, but you look over your shoulder at him and he sees the heat in your eyes. it’s almost like you’re daring him to bust a nut inside you while you drive his motorcycle—god, that’s exactly what you’re doing. normally, choso doesn’t enjoy playing truth or dare, but he’ll make an exception for his girl.

with one hand on your hip, he tugs you down onto his cock and jerks himself upwards to make it a little easier for you. tears prick at the corners of your eyes like they always do whenever you take his cock — he’s stretching you out and filling you up so perfectly that it’s impossible not to become overwhelmed.

“faster, baby—t-there’s nobody on the road, you can put s’more gas into it.”

so you do, watching the needle in the speedometer increase as the motorcycle gains speed. choso moans loudly, his face flushing dark red beneath his helmet while his eyes flutter shut for a moment. “g-gonna cum, baby, tell me i can, tell me i can—”

each word grows more urgent, and his voice begins to splinter and break as he begs you for permission. his fingers carelessly toy with your clit, thumb rubbing quick circles around the bud and enticing you to cum with him. you feel dizzy, seeing stars flash across your vision each time you bounce down on his cock, not to mention the additional stimulation on your clit. something hot burns in your stomach and seems to rush throughout every limb in a way that has your body and mind going numb momentarily.

“cum in me, choso,” you sob desperately, gripping the handlebars frantically, “cum with me, cum with—oh, fuck.”

your mouth falls open in shock as you have the most explosive orgasm you’ve ever had with him; your cunt flutters around his cock, drawing him deeper as if it’s the last time you’ll be together.

choso starts to babble thoughtlessly, praises and gasps falling from his lips like the words of a prayer. “yeah, ‘m cumming—ngh, i l-love you, god you’re jus’ so perfect.”

he finally spills inside you, spraying white hot cum so deep it’ll take hours to drip out. the motorcycle wavers, lurching forward toward the next set of lights. beneath the helmets, you’re both panting, coming down from your highs and trying to focus even though you’re feeling a euphoric numbness spread through your body. when his thumb nudges your clit, you jerk as though you’ve been electrocuted, whining from the sensitivity.

“are you okay?” he asks lowly, voice ragged while his hand massages at your side.

“y-yeah, i’m okay. i just—i need to do that again.”

choso laughs, causing you to do so as well. “maybe in a few more minutes. how ‘bout we change up the position so you’re on your back? if we do, i’ll be able to see that pretty face.”

[samulogy]

➵ 𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 !

⊹ ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ about ! skip the foreplay and get straight to fucking. or you’re just too needy for him so you take matters into your own hands.

⊹ ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ warnings ! minors, blank and ageless blogs please do not interact. 18+ content, obviously. f!reader, slight exhibitionism, riding, slight breath play, semi-public sex, quirk usage, creampie, sex as a coping mechanism or distraction, riding, n oral fixation.

⊹ ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ characters ! (canon timeskip) midoriya izuku, amajiki tamaki, takami keigo

⊹ ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ divine agnes ! just my thoughts before i go to bed, xoxo.

MIDORIYA IZUKU ‪‪❤︎‬ riding him during a zoom meeting. slight exhibitionism, riding, slight breath play.

“y/n,” he whispered, his voice strained. “we can’t— not now…”

of all the times you had to be stubborn, it just had to be when he’s in a meeting with the rest of the ua staff. he couldn’t even dwell long enough in his thoughts because you were already freeing him from his pants, your hand wrapping around him and stroking him slowly. the warmth of your hands, accompanied by the cold lubricant, made him let out a shaky breath, his head falling back against the chair as you aligned yourself on him.

“we have to be quiet,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his ear as you sink down onto him, taking him in completely. god, his tip could barely fit—but once you get past that, it’s all pleasure, not struggle.

izuku’s hands held your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he tried to stifle a groan. you bit your lip, your own breath hitching as you began to move, your hips rocking slowly against his. you could feel him trembling beneath you, his body tense as he fought to stay quiet.

on the screen, the meeting continued, the voices of his colleagues filling the room. for all it’s worth, izuku leaned in and told you, “hold your breath, doll.”

unconsciously, you did—

“yes, i do agree, principal nezu. i’ll look forward to that when classes return this monday.”

your hands braced against his shoulder—moments faltering for a second—but you continued when you heard izuku turn off his mic with a click! your own breathing was ragged as izuku picked up your pace for you, his strong hands guiding you up and down and up and down on his dick. the change of pace cleared all coherent thoughts that you were thinking of.

and the thought of getting caught really sounded . . .

“‘zuku— uhn! F- fuck, wait..!”

he tutted softly. “you’re not in the position to make requests, doll. you wanted this, no?” he smiled, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“then you’ll have to take everything i give you while I’m still in my meeting.”

AMAJIKI TAMAKI ❤︎‬ quickie during an important dinner. semi-public sex, quirk usage, creampie.

you’re about to collapse at this point. “tama— hah..! too much, too much,” you panted in his ear.

“you have to b-be quiet, hon,” tamaki tells you, though you could barely reply anything when one of his tentacle appendages suddenly occupied your mouth to keep the noise down. “fuck,” he whined quietly, head resting on your shoulder as he had you resting on the counter, his hips at the fastest pace he could muster. “h-have to be quick, or else someone might walk in, r-right?”

that, or those in your table might wonder where you two have gone.

you could only nod, helpless and pliant under your husband’s mercy.

“‘m close,” he tells you, “inside, hon?”

he has the courtesy to ask as if he wasn’t already planning to. it’s the thought that counts, maybe.

“h—nggh! tama,” you whine, all protests on your tongue are swallowed by him, the tentacle appendage replaced by tamaki’s tongue—tasting you as if he’s been starved for years.

“so—“ kiss “—fucking—“ kiss “—amazing, hon,” he pants in between kisses, feeling you clench around his dick just pushed tamaki over the edge—his hot spurts of cum filling your womb in a way that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

it was also an important thing to note that when tamaki comes, it’s a lot even if it comes in intervals. It’s a lot and hot against your fluttering walls. it’s ok, you were his to take anyway.

TAKAMI KEIGO ❤︎‬ sex as a coping mechanism or distraction, riding, oral fixation.

“dove,” he pants, “wait a moment— mmph!”

the moment keigo stepped inside, he didn’t have any grace period before your lips were on his. hands gripping his jacket, pulling him close. you had him pressed against the door, your body warm, your breath shaky against his mouth as you kissed him with need.

need to cope to not take another huff of another cigarette. he remembers now how he jokingly said that for every time you felt like smoking, you could kiss him instead.

keigo didn’t necessarily mean to kiss him ‘til he’s lightheaded—‘til he was sitting on the couch, you straddling him. you didn’t even wait before you were already sinking down into his cock, taking all the breath he has left as you kissed him again, your tongues intertwining just right that it had your nails digging at his shoulders.

quite frankly, keigo didn’t really mind.

“dove—fuck, don’t hurt yourself,” he murmurs, thrusting up to meet your pace. “shit, ‘m exhausted, you know this,” he tuts softly, earning a pitiful whine from you. “but i guess you can’t help it, yeah?”

you can’t even reply. not when keigo had you sucking on two of his digits, anything to keep your mouth occupied as he fucks into you. it doesn’t even take long for you to cum when one hand’s in your mouth and the other toying with your clit.

“atta girl,” he chuckled. “i guess we’re going to have to fill your mouth, too, huh? alright, alright, you win.”

[ohproserpine]

v. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and bloof, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder

"THAT SLAG!"

Velvette's piercing scream echoed through the meeting room, slicing through the air. Vox and Valentino jolted, turning their gazes toward the source of the disturbance.

"Good-for-nothing piece of shit twat assistant!" Velvette paced the room, her movements agitated and frantic as she angrily tapped away on her phone.

In a sudden surge of anger, she flung her device across the room, sending it flying above Valentino's head. A crash punctuated the air as it collided with a window, the impact shattering the glass into shards that rained down onto the floor.

"Velvette, darling," Vox raised an eyebrow, his voice calm as always, "What's got you so worked up?"

He took a sip of his coffee, the rich aroma wafting up from the steaming cup as he idly scrolled through his laptop. "Is it that showgirl situation again?"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Velvette rolled her eyes. "Of course, it is, you git! It's been literally the ONLY thing I've been banging on about this week!"

Valentino's sigh cut through the conversation as he adjusted his sunglasses. Holding his glittering firearm up to his face, he pressed rhinestones on it with tacky glue, unfazed by Velvette's anger.

"It's just some performer, babydoll. We can find a replacement."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Velvette seethed as she stormed toward them, her heels clicking loudly with each step. With a forceful slam of her hands against the table, it shifted forward, jolting the items on its surface. With a hiss of pain, Vox recoiled, his hand jerking back from the scalding coffee he had spilled on himself.

"The boutique opening is in three days! How on earth am I supposed to find a girl who's got the looks and a set of pipes in time?!" she exclaimed.

Valentino looked up from his bedazzling, a raised eyebrow visible above the rim of his sunglasses. "Have you tried one of my models? I got a lot of pretty little chicas who can charm the socks off anyone. No need to stress yourself out."

"Your models? Do you have any idea how much time and effort it's going to take for me to wrangle those little amateurs into something remotely resembling a professional performance?" Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Sod off!"

Valentino snarled in response but turned away with a huff, muttering under his breath, "Have it your way."

"If I may," Vox spoke, wiping his hand with a grumble, the sting of the burn still lingering. He tilted his head slightly, raising a single brow. "Have you tried scouting?"

"Have I tried scouting?" Velvette mocked, her hands waving around in frustration. "Of course I have! All I've come across are bloody singers around here, and they all look like they've been dragged through the dirt backwards!"

"Well, have you tried the back district?" he offered, tapping his claws on the long glass table. He watched as Velvette pulled out a pocket mirror from her purse, visibly cringing at his suggestion.

"Why in bloody hell would I go there?" Velvette grimaced as she re-applied her dark lipstick. "I'm not about to waste my time scouring the back district for some dime-a-dozen talent. I need someone who's got class, not gutter scraps."

"Well, there's this performer," Vox insisted, snapping his fingers. A screen materialized with a whiz, displaying a video of a figure in a sparkly silver dress singing and dancing. As the video drew to a close, the camera zoomed in, capturing a close-up of the woman's face. Her features were radiant, a smile gracing her lips as she gazed out at the audience.

Velvette snapped her mirror shut with a flick of her wrist, interest sparking in her eyes. She leaned in closer, studying the performer's features.

"Who's this?" she quipped.

"Dolly, at least that's what they call her," Vox hummed, sliding the screen over to Velvette. "She works at Mimzy's Lounge."

Velvette's expression darkened, strands of hair falling over her eyes as she took the screen in her hands, leaning down to view the image again. The glow of the projection illuminated her face, casting shadows that danced across her steely expression.

"Mimzy?" she uttered the name slowly, her lips dripping with venom. "That's the cunt who tore up my best showgirl!"

"Drama," Valentino chuckled, spinning his bedazzled gun around his fingers.

"Well, this Dolly girl is her biggest star, and she's been making quite a name for herself there," Vox drawled, gesturing toward the screen. With a tap of his claw on the screen, he zoomed in closer. "She's got the looks, the voice, and the stage presence you're looking for."

"And she's managed to shine even in the shadow of that cesspool," he added with a sardonic grin as he sipped from his coffee.

A flicker ignited in Velvette's eyes as she straightened. "Then it's settled. I'll pay her a visit."

"Sounds like you've got a plan brewing, my dear. Care for some company?" Vox spoke with a smirk playing on his lips.

Velvette shot him a knowing glance before a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. "Why not? I could use some of your charm."

.

"Cher? Dearest? It's time to get up," the radio atop your bedside table rumbled, your husband's voice crackling through the air.

Grunting in protest, you burrowed deeper into the warmth of your blankets, seeking refuge from the harsh bite of the morning. But Alastor's persistent calls refused to be ignored.

"Mon cœur? Cher? W̷A̴K̶E̴ ̶U̸P̷!̶" it blared, the words amplified by hissing static, demanding attention like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly peeled yourself away from the cocoon of comfort that had enveloped you. Sitting up, you felt the blanket slip from your shoulders, pooling around your hips. Memories of last night flooded in, and the remnants of Alastor's romantic gesture still adorned your room. The bouquet sat atop your dresser, with scattered white roses delicately strewn across your bed like whispers of affection.

Despite the tender atmosphere, a throbbing headache reminded you of an unwelcome guest that accompanied you into the morning—the hangover.

Dragging yourself to the side, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and sat for a moment, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to ease the discomfort. Then, pushing yourself to your feet, you padded across the room, the cool floorboards sending a shiver through your bare skin. You picked up the radio, its incessant blare akin to an annoying alarm clock, with Alastor's voice still grating on your nerves.

"Alright. Alright. I'm up, love," you grumbled, rubbing at your eyes which still felt thick with sleep.

The radio rumbled with delight at your response.

"Hellish morning to you, my dear!" Alastor's voice boomed through the speakers, his jovial tone slicing through the early morning gloom. Despite your grogginess, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the sound of his voice.

"Hellish morning to you too, darling," you returned, laced with affection.

"I trust you had a restful sleep?" Alastor questioned.

"As restful as one can get with a noisy radio blaring in their ear," you sighed, already feeling the weight of the day bearing down on you.

"Hah!" Alastor laughed, the sound making you roll your eyes. "But where ever would you be without my dulcet tones to serenade you awake?"

"Probably catching a few more precious minutes of sleep," you muttered, already regretting the start of another day. “You are insufferable, you know that?”

"Ah, but that's why you love me."

Back in his hotel room, Alastor chuckled to himself as he shrugged on his suit jacket. From his microphone, he caught the rustling of your clothes, followed by the gentle rush of running water.

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor summoned a gramophone, its boxy form materializing atop his dresser with a soft thud. Soon enough, the needle gently descended onto the spinning vinyl record, releasing a soft, nostalgic melody that filled the room.

I'll never smile again Until I smile at you I'll never laugh again What good would it do?

As Alastor began to sing along, his smooth voice seeping through the rusting speakers of the radio, you paused in the middle of washing your hair, caught off guard by the unexpected serenade.

"Stupid, stupid man," you muttered under your breath with a shake of your head. And yet, despite yourself, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, warmth creeping into your heart.

For tears would fill my eyes My heart would realize That our romance is through

Exiting the bath, you toweled yourself off and approached your wardrobe, humming softly as you selected your attire for the day. After scanning through the hangers, you settled on a vibrant red hooverette dress. With matching stockings and white heels, you completed the look, the final touch being a few roses plucked from the bouquet Alastor had given you, tucked behind your ear.

I'll never love again I'm so in love with you I'll never thrill again To somebody new

Dressed and ready to face the day, you returned to the radio, the soft strains of music and Alastor's voice still lingering in the air. As the final notes faded into silence, you stood for a moment, savoring the fleeting illusion of domestic bliss for a moment longer.

With a pang of sadness, you glanced at the clock, realizing that it was time to go.

"I have to head out now, darling," you spoke into the radio, feeling a tug at your heartstrings. "My shift starts in a while."

"Ah, until we meet again, mon cher," Alastor's voice replied warmly. "Do take care of yourself."

In response, you leaned down to press a kiss against the speakers, a gesture of your affection. The soft sound of the kiss was barely audible, but Alastor's ears perked up and caught the gentle touch against the metal surface. He chuckled softly, then, with a soft click, the radio fell silent.

As you slipped your purse over your shoulder, a thought crossed your mind—should you bring the radio along? The temptation to have Alastor's voice with you throughout the day was strong, but the risk of further damaging the precious device gave you pause. With a sigh, you decided against it, opting to leave it safely in your room, where it would patiently await your return.

Heading out of your room, the lounge was already buzzing with the hustle and bustle of customers and staff. Although no singer graced the stage yet, the speakers blasted with the familiar tunes of Hell’s Top 10 Hits.

"There you are!" Mimzy's voice cut through the lively atmosphere, her smile failing to reach her eyes as she bounded towards you.

"Mimzy," you greeted flatly, acknowledging her with a nod.

"How are ya doin', doll? Just the person I was looking for," she purred with a bat of her eyes. "Alright, listen, I've got a marvelous idea for a performance."

You sighed inwardly, bracing yourself for whatever scheme she had cooked up this time. Mimzy's requests were as extravagant as they were challenging, always pushing the boundaries to maintain her club's "reputation" and squeeze every last dime from these sinners' wallets.

"Let's hear it," you replied, mustering a polite smile.

"So, I was thinking," Mimzy began, tapping her finger along her chin, "how about a duet? A throwback to the good ole days, sharing the spotlight. It's bound to be a performance these wayward fools are going to talk about for ages!"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the relatively tame suggestion. The blonde wasn't exactly known for her subtlety or restraint when it came to showmanship. At most, a duet with Mimzy was sure to be a spectacle, for better or for worse.

"And when is this going to be held?" you grinned tensely, hands at your hips. There was bound to be a switch somewhere.

"When else? Prime time tonight!" Mimzy giggled as she threw up her hands with a flourish.

And there it was.

"Tonight?" Your eyes widened, shoulders squaring in shock. "Miss Ma'am, that's cutting it a bit close, don't you think?"

"Bushwa! We'll make it work," Mimzy replied dismissively, waving off your concerns with a flick of her hand. "And I've already got the perfect song in mind. It'll be a real humdinger, mark my words."

"Alright," you sighed, hoping for the best but bracing yourself for the chaos that was sure to follow. "Tonight it is."

"That's the spirit! Hell, why don't you take the morning off?" Mimzy grinned as she hurried off down the hallway to make preparations. "I'll see you tonight! Make sure to be here by sunset!"

Standing by the stairs as stiff as a pole, you watched her skip off with an unusually chipper air. It struck you as odd, but you pushed the thought aside, eager to have the morning to yourself. As you turned away, however, your head throbbed once more, the reminder of your hangover cutting through the moment.

"Looks like a ciggy is in order," you muttered to yourself, rubbing at your throbbing temples. Making your way outside, hoping to smoke away the edge of discomfort.

Trudging along the filthy backstreets, you did your best to avoid the muck and other questionable liquids that lined the roadside. The stench of decay hung heavy in the air, assaulting your senses with each step you took.

No one spared you a glance as you passed; the citizens of hell were absorbed in their own pursuits or concerns, and you blended into the backdrop of the grim landscape. 

Finally reaching a clearer stretch of street, you took a seat on one of the benches, the worn wood groaning under your weight. The city bustled around you, a mix of sounds and movements that seemed to blur together.

With a weary sigh, you reached into your bag in search of company—nicotine.

Fingers fumbling through the contents of your purse, you felt the familiar shape of the roll, and with a hum, pulled it out. However, as you continued to rummage through your belongings, a sinking realization settled in.

Your matchbox wasn't there.

Dropping your head into your hands with a scowl, you could feel the stress mounting within you, bubbling up like a simmering pot ready to boil over.

Wallowing in your misfortune, you failed to notice someone approaching you from behind. A sudden tap on your shoulder jolted you, and as you turned, you found yourself face to face with a tall and slender spider-like demon. His frame was practically drowning in a plush white fur coat, the color almost blending into his skin. It contrasted sharply with the sleekness of the black bodycon dress clinging onto his curves underneath.

"Need a light?" he asked casually as he held up a pink-colored lighter.

You eyed him skeptically for a moment.

In hell, kindness often came with a price. Whether it was a favor owed, a debt to be repaid, or simply a hidden agenda waiting to be revealed, nothing came for free. However, when your head throbbed again, you sighed and relented with a nod, accepting the offer despite your reservations.

Angel Dust ignited the lighter, the flame pirouetting gracefully and flickering in the wind. Drawing closer, you leaned in, offering the tip of your cigarette to the flame. With a gentle hiss, the tobacco caught fire, wisps of smoke curling into the air like ethereal dancers. As you took a deep, shaky inhale, the saccharine poison of the smoke flooded your lungs, leaving a bittersweet taste lingering on your tongue. Shutting your eyes, a sense of calm washed over you as you leaned back, letting yourself be carried away by the fleeting tranquility of the moment.

Remembering you had company, you grounded yourself and opened your eyes. "Thank you ever so much, dear. Can I have your name?" you asked, tilting your head up at him. The stranger moved to sit down next to you, the worn wood of the bench creaking under his weight.

"Angel Dust," he said, and your eyes shot wide open, lips forming an 'O' shape.

"The porn star?" you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"Didn't take you as the type to watch my shit, toots," Angel laughed heartily as his grin widened from ear to ear in response, his golden tooth gleaming at you like a wink.

"Well, I may not be your typical fan, but your name does tend to make its rounds in conversation," you chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. Taking a drag from your cigarette, you gestured with it casually. "I saw you in my husb—erm, the Radio Demon's commercial. Hazbin Hotel, was it?"

"Yeah, and don't worry, I know. Dolly, was it?" Angel Dust replied smoothly, his demeanor surprisingly nonchalant given the situation. Extending his hand for you to shake, he continued, "Nice to finally put a face to the name."

His confession caught you off guard, but you shook his hand firmly nonetheless. "How did you—did Alastor tell you about me? You two must be close."

Angel Dust hesitated, a grimace crossing his features. His crimson eyes darted away briefly, as if weighing his words carefully.

"Let's just say... word gets around in our circles," he replied vaguely, tugging his coat closer around himself.

"I don't know him that well, though," Angel Dust admitted with a shrug, his gaze drifting off momentarily. "Sometimes he can be a bit..."

"A pompous dick with a sadistic streak?" you suggested, exhaling smoke as you raised an eyebrow at Angel Dust, testing the waters.

Angel Dust laughed genuinely, throwing his head back. "Something along those lines, toots," he grinned, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Well, it's good to know I'm not the only one who sees it," you remarked, a wry smile playing on your lips.

"Believe me, ya ain't alone in that," he agreed. "So, ah—What brings ya out here? Aside from the obvious need for a blow."

"Just needed some fresh air," you admitted with a shrug. "Plus, I may have indulged a bit too much last night and woke up feeling like death warmed over."

"I hear ya," Angel Dust replied, nodding sympathetically as he raked his eyes over your worn-out form, noting the slump of your body and the dark circles under your eyes. You looked so different from the sparkly performer he had seen on stage days ago.

"Hey, I actually caught one of ya shows the other night," he piped up, attempting to shift the conversation to a lighter topic.

"Did you?" you cooed, surprise evident in your voice.

"Yeah," Angel nodded, stretching out on the bench, spreading both his arms across the back of the wood. "Gotta say, ya put on quite the show up there. I mean—ya had the crowd eating out of the palm of ya hand."

A faint smile crept onto your cheeks at his praise, a swell of pride rising within you.

"Well, thank you," you bowed your head in gratitude, momentarily forgetting your fatigue in the warmth of his words. "It means a lot coming from someone like you."

Angel Dust waved off your thanks with a casual flick of his hand, lips jutting out in a playful pout.

"Ah, c'mon. I call it like I see it," he grinned with a shrug. "N'trust me, I've seen my fair share of performances."

Lost in the easy flow of conversation, you surrendered to the comfort of the moment, finding solace in the presence of your spider companion. Hours passed, and before you knew it, the sun dipped below the horizon,  painting the park in hues of golden warmth.

A jarring ringtone shattered the moment, causing Angel Dust to glance down at his phone with a whistle. His brows furrowed as he scrolled through a flurry of notifications, irritation flashing across his features.

"As much as I'm enjoying our little chat, duty calls," he sighed, flicking away ash from his cigarette. "Can't keep the boss waiting."

You nodded in understanding, offering a wave as he rose from the bench. "No worries, Angel. Catch you later."

"Looking forward to it, dollface," he replied with a wink before sauntering off into the city streets, leaving you to enjoy the peace alone. After a few minutes of watching the sunset, you decided it was time to go. You stubbed out your cigarette and rose from the bench, making your way out.

As you approached the streets leading to the lounge, the neon lights of the city burst into life, casting vibrant reflections on the pavement. Climbing the stairs to the entrance, you were enveloped by the familiar sights and sounds of the establishment. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and cigarette smoke, mingling with the pulsating rhythm of the music from within.

Mimzy was nowhere to be seen, which came as a welcome relief. And with a last scan to ensure she wasn't lurking anywhere nearby, you made a beeline straight to your dressing room, eager to ready yourself for tonight's performance in peace without a certain blonde talking your ear off.

Taking a seat at the vanity, you began to prepare for the evening ahead, carefully applying your makeup and fixing your hair into place.

A sudden knock broke your routine, prompting you to rise from your seat and stride over to the door. With a quick twist of the knob, you swung it open, revealing an imp demon. White blotches adorned his skin, and he sported sunglasses perched high up on his nose. In his hands, he held up a box, his expression expectant as he waited for your reaction.

"May I help you?" you murmured, tilting your head at him, curiosity coloring your tone.

"Yeah. Are you Dolly?" the imp asked, his tone curt and impatient.

"Yes?" you replied, a brow raised.

"Great. This is for you, lady," he said, thrusting the box of jewelry toward you. "If you could just sign here so I can get the hell out of this shithole, that'd be great."

You accepted the box from the imp demon's outstretched hand, eyeing him warily as he thrust a pen and clipboard in your direction. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly took the pen and scrawled your signature on the dotted line, handing the clipboard back to him with a curt nod.

"Thanks," he muttered, barely sparing you a glance as he turned on his heel and hurried away, disappearing into the crowded hallway of the club.

Interest piqued, you turned your attention back to the box in your hands. With a gentle touch, you ran your fingers along the surface and lifted the lid of the box. Nestled amidst folds of satin lay a pearl necklace, the orbs gleaming as if moonlight itself was captured and trapped within. At its heart, a rose pendant bloomed, its petals of silver. 

Taken aback, you reached for the small card tucked within the box. Gently retrieving, you turned it around to see the words "From Al" penned gracefully in elegant script.

"Oh, you cheese…"

With a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you delicately lifted the necklace from its satin-lined cocoon, feeling the cool weight of the pearls in your palm. As you draped it around your neck, the pendant nestled against your collarbone.

Feeling as giddy as a teenager in love, you turned away from the vanity, your heart fluttering with excitement. With a skip in your step, you crossed the room to the wardrobe, fingers dancing over the array of neatly hung dresses.

Before your fingers could grasp onto a dress, a sudden deafening explosion tore through the air. The sound was thunderous, shaking the walls and causing the ground beneath your feet to tremble violently. The shockwave slammed into you with palpable force, knocking you off balance and sending you crashing to the floor amidst a cloud of dust and debris.

Alarm flashed across your features as your heart pounded in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through your veins like a raging river. With trembling hands, you pushed yourself up from the ground.

What in hell was that?

Staggering to your feet, you ran out into the lounge. As the dust settled, you could see the entrance of the lounge now reduced to a gaping maw, the doors blown open by the force of the explosion. The familiar sights and sounds of the club were replaced by a scene of utter devastation, with debris strewn haphazardly across the floor and smoke billowing out into the night air.

Two ominous figures cast dark shadows amidst the panicked frenzy of staff and customers.

Struggling to discern the figures amidst the chaos, you squinted, trying to make out the details. One of them was a slender demon, dressed immaculately, with cedar-brown skin and long, fiery red curls tied into neat pigtails.

A sinking feeling settled in your chest as you recognized her as one of Hell's infamous overlords. Your heart plummeted further as you caught sight of Mimzy, ensnared in Velvette's vice-like grip, fear twisting her features as she struggled against her captor.

But it was the presence of the figure behind Velvette that truly sent a shiver down your spine.

The TV Demon, Vox.

His gaze swept over the room with a detached coldness, as if the pandemonium were of little consequence. Suddenly, his icy eyes locked onto yours, freezing you in place.

"Mimzy, dear," Vox's voice buzzed with deceptive sweetness as he addressed the shaking blonde. "Why don't you go and have a little chat with your esteemed employee about our... conditions?"

Wide-eyed with fear, Mimzy frantically nodded, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Make it quick," Velvette scoffed, releasing her grip on Mimzy's throat. The blonde stumbled toward you, her movements shaky and unsteady.

"What is—" you started, but Mimzy cut you off, panic evident as she began to drag you backstage. Without a moment's hesitation, she pushed you into your dressing room, swiftly locking the door behind you.

"Mimzy, what in hell is going on out there?" you demanded, leaning down to her height and shaking her by the arms.

Mimzy's breaths came in ragged gasps as she leaned against the door, her eyes wide with terror. She struggled to find her words, her entire figure trembling as she tried to compose herself.

"It's Velvette," she finally managed to choke out.

"Why is she here? What does she want from us?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your tone as you searched Mimzy's face for answers. But her response only added to your unease.

"You need to go with them," Mimzy decided abruptly.

"Go with who? What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice turning breathless with disbelief.

"She's out for payback, see? And she won't stop until she gets it," Mimzy explained, her tone grave yet determined, like she had some ace up her sleeve. "I gotta level the playing field, doll. She wants a replacement, and she's chosen you."

"I can't just go along with this!" your voice rose to a shout as you began to shake her again, nails digging into the chiffon of her glove. "My contract with you ends in a year. If I go with them, I'll be their pawn for all of eternity!"

"I can't just risk Velvette destroying everything I've built!" Mimzy defended herself, her tone devoid of remorse. "Do you have any idea how much work it took for me to get this place running?!"

Anger surged within you, fueled by betrayal and fear. "What about me? What about Alastor?"

"Oh, him again!" Mimzy shook her arms away from your grip and pushed herself off the door. "You've been so obsessed with that radio fool, you've forgotten who's been with you since the very start! Ever since you got hitched to him, you stopped caring about a damn thing!"

"I cared! And I still bloody well care, Mimzy!" you shot back, your voice rising with anger. Your eyes blazed with fire, cracks beginning to form on your face as your demon form threatened to break free. "But you were an empty, hollow shell of a woman with naught in her head but money! You'd sell out anyone, even me, to get what you want!"

Mimzy recoiled slightly, her façade momentarily cracked by your words. "You-You think you're any better? Running off with your precious Alastor, pretending like he's the savior of your life. But I know you've heard his broadcasts. I know you've seen the news. He's no better than me, playing you like a puppet while hiding behind his façade of being a good man!"

Enraged, you lunged forward, tackling her against the wall. As fury consumed you, your form contorted and twisted, taking on a monstrous semblance. Your features morphed, sharpening into angular lines, while cracks spiderwebbed across your skin like shattered porcelain. Limbs stretched and warped, turning jagged and broken, resembling the joints of a marionette. Teeth elongated into razor-sharp fangs, and as you bared them in a snarl, your lips curled back in a grotesque mockery of a mouth. "Say that again! I fucking dare you!"

"I'll say it as many times as I damn well please!" Mimzy spat, her voice trembling as she locked eyes with your hollow gaze. "Until you get it through your fucking thick, cracked skull!"

The blonde's hand darted to a nearby object, seizing hold of a picture frame within reach. With sudden, fierce motion, she swung it, the weighty wood and glass connecting with your transformed flesh in a sickening thud.

"Mph—!" Biting your lip to stifle a scream, you staggered backward. Thick blood dripped from the wound, pooling on the floor and mingling with the cracks in your porcelain-like skin.

"You've got some nerve!" Mimzy's voice thundered as she stood over you, her pale face flushing crimson with anger. "You wanted that fame, and I made it happen. Now you don't?! Fuck! Some ungrateful brat you are! Willing to throw it all away for some man! Do you really think what he feels for you is love?!"

As Mimzy's tirade continued, her words cutting through the haze of pain and anger, a sense of disorientation washed over you. Her words struck a nerve, stirring up memories that you had long tried to suppress.

.

Rain poured down, drenching your hunched form. The world around you blurred into a chaotic whirlwind of colors and shapes, disorienting and suffocating. 

Beneath the fabric of your dress, your knees throbbed painfully, raw from the harsh scrape against unforgiving concrete. Your hands desperately fumbled in the darkness, searching for something to anchor yourself to. Then, finally, your fingertips brushed against the familiar texture of rusting metal.

With a ragged sigh of relief, you realized you had found the gate of your house. Summoning all your remaining strength, you clasped both hands around the cold, wet metal bars and attempted to pull yourself up.

Through the haze, you felt rough hands sneak around your waist, and as your vision cleared slightly, your husband's face emerged from the blur. His once impeccable suit now clung to him like a second skin, soaked through by the downpour. Strands of his usually neat hair stuck to his forehead, dampened and dripping onto his glasses. Cursing like a sailor under his breath, he scooped you up into his arms, expression turning tense as he felt the icy chill of your body against his own.

If you weren't moving he would have thought you a corpse.

"Cher?" Alastor's voice cut through the fog in your mind, but your response was sluggish, your gaze glassy and dilated. "Merde. Did you drag yourself here all alone?"

Without waiting for an answer, he moved, cradling you in his arms as he hurried back toward your house. Once inside, he wasted no time in laying you down on the sofa.

"Al," you finally spoke, whimpering softly as you raised a shaky hand towards him. Alastor immediately moved towards you, hushing your cries as he pressed a deep kiss on your lips.

Your husband moved to cradle your face in his rough hands, and what he saw shattered whatever fragments of his heart were still intact. Bruises and dried blood stained your body, your skin clammy and pale. Streaks of mascara carved paths down your tear-stained face, and your limbs twitched involuntarily. The taste of whiskey still lingered on your lips, and the fearful haze in your eyes mirrored the terror of a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

"Who did this to you?" he growled, his pupils dilating with anger as he knelt before you, gently slipping your torn stockings and muddy heels off your feet.

"Mimzy," you sobbed out, curling into yourself, the weight of it all feeling too heavy on your shoulders.

"I tried to quit. She didn't let me. The bar. She gave me a drink. More and more. I couldn't stop. I was just so upset." Your words were fragmented, broken by the wrenching sobs that shook your fragile form, vulnerability laid bare before him.

"Mon cœur," Alastor hushed, rubbing circles into your ankle with his thumb. "Calm down. Take your time."

You made an effort, though the first few attempts were shallow and rushed. Eventually, you managed to draw in a deep breath, releasing it in a rush before taking another. And another.

"That's it, my dear. Now, what happened?"

Summoning all your strength, you opened your mouth and began to recount the harrowing events of the night.

Earlier this evening, you had mustered up enough courage to hand in your resignation letter to Mimzy. However, her reaction was far from pleasant. An argument erupted, filled with less than savory words being thrown around like daggers.

Before you knew it, Mimzy's rage boiled over, and she tackled you, raining blows upon you with a fury that bordered on madness, beating you with an inch of your life. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

Her demeanor shifted drastically, morphing from a raging storm into a gentle breeze. With a sickening sweetness, she offered you a hand up, as if nothing had happened. Weak and disoriented, you allowed her to lead you to her private bar, where she poured drink after drink, urging you to indulge.

As per habit, you found yourself consuming the alcohol with reckless abandon, the burning liquid dulling the pain and blurring the edges of reality

Alastor's heart clenched at the anguish in your voice, his expression darkening with a mixture of concern and simmering anger. Slowly, he rose from his seat and lifted you onto his lap, cradling you gently in his arms.

Taking your hand in his, he leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur.

"Let me take care of everything, doll," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "She won't ever bother you again."

The tenderness in his voice caused your breath to hitch, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to fall into the reassurance of his presence. It offered a fleeting sense of security amidst everything surrounding you. Yet, slowly as the puzzles fell into pieces, a gnawing sense of dread clawed at your insides.

"Alastor, no," you whimpered, withdrawing your hands and pressing them against his chest, pushing him away with trembling fingers. "Please don't tell me it means what I think it does."

Your gaze pleaded with him, searching his eyes for any sign of reassurance, any glimmer of hope that what you feared was not true. However, your husband's smile remained unchanged—comforting yet chilling—as he pressed another kiss to the corner of your lips.

"I would kill for you," Alastor murmured against your skin, his thumb tracing the contours of your wedding ring. Bending down, he pressed a tender kiss against the golden band, sealing his vow with the promise of bloodshed, lips lingering against the cool metal. As he drew back, you found yourself ensnared by the intensity of his gaze, pools of brown reflecting a manic fervor.

"Please let me kill for you."

Tears blurred your vision as you bowed your head, the weight of his words sinking deep into your soul. You knew Alastor's devotion knew no bounds. Whether it meant causing pain, shedding blood, or delving into the darkest corners of his being, he would do it for you without a moment's hesitation.

A warmth trickled down your cheeks with each blink, tracing a path along your skin. Your eyes burned fiercely, tears cascading down your flushed cheeks and silently dripping from your chin like dewdrops. As you attempted to draw deep breaths, your body shook with a desperation to escape, though you couldn't quite grasp what it was you were fleeing from.

A ragged sound echoed through the room, grating against your senses. It took you a moment to register that the noise came from your own lungs, your breaths torn and jagged as they struggled to find a rhythm.

"Okay," you whispered, the weight of that single word heavy with the burden of guilt and a future tinged with blood.

There was a soft chuckle, accompanied by the gentle touch of a hand moving to caress your cheeks. "Good girl."

.

Snapping back to the present, you found yourself staring at Mimzy as she raged around the room, her fury unleashed on the surroundings, wrecking anything and everything in her path.

A man who kills for you. A man who dirties his hands for you. Is that not love?

A kick from her sent your vanity toppling over, causing bottles of your perfume and whiskey to crash from its surface. The glass shattered upon impact, releasing splintering sounds that pierced your ears. As the bottles broke, the air filled with the pungent scent of flora, mingling with the rich aroma of spilled whiskey.

It must be love.

With a hand trembling from adrenaline, you ran your fingers through your hair, the sticky feeling of blood staining your palm. Rising unsteadily to your feet, you turned to face Mimzy, strands of damp, bloodied hair falling over your cracked porcelain face.

"You ornery washed-up bitch," you rasped out in a laugh, voice breathless and laced with venom. "I should have left you to rot in that forest."

Mimzy froze, her wide eyes locked on you.

"What did you say to me?" she seethed, her voice trembling with anger as she extended her hand toward the shattered liquor glass and the spilled liquid, her fingers curling into fists.

With a flick of her wrist, the whiskey began to swirl and solidify, forming chains that snaked around your limbs, binding you in place. Your muscles tensed against the restraints as Mimzy manipulated you like a puppeteer. Slowly, you reverted back to your regular form, forced to your knees before her.

The blonde bent down, her grip firm on your face, nails digging deep into your skin as she pulled your head up to face her. "You're here because of me! Everything you've ever achieved was because of me! I made you a star, and this is how you repay me?!"

You recognized the anger in her tone, but beneath it lurked a deeper pain and desperation. The poor gal was fighting to reclaim control over a situation slipping through her grasp.

A sudden knock at the door startled Mimzy, causing her to tense. The door creaked open to reveal the imposing figure of Vox filling the doorway. As he entered the room, a wave of static filled the air, crackling and sending goosebumps cascading over your skin. His gaze swept over the scene, taking note of your restraints and bloodied head before settling on Mimzy.

"What is the meaning of this?" 

Under Vox's gaze, Mimzy's confident demeanor faltered, replaced by a nervous tremor in her voice. "I-I was just… settling some unfinished business, mistah," she stammered, attempting to regain her composure.

"You've just damaged the merchandise, sweetheart," Vox stated matter-of-factly, gesturing to you with a wave of his hand. "And we can't have that, now can we?"

With a casual snap of his fingers, the wires from the stage lights above writhed and twisted, tearing free from the ceiling with a deafening creak. They snaked through the air like serpents, wrapping around Mimzy's torso and dragging her away from you with a forceful yank.

With Mimzy taken care of, Vox then turned his attention to you.

"Dolly, was it?" he smiled, voice disarming. "I've got to say, I have always wanted to see you up close."

"You've seen me," you replied with a cold edge to your voice, slowly backing away and pressing yourself against the wall. "I'm here."

"Charmed," Vox smiled, his gaze heating as he drank you in, every detail of you like candy to his eyes. As Vox strode towards you, you instinctively curled into yourself, shrinking back deeper against the wall. He chuckled softly, noticing your reaction, and halted his advances. Instead, he took a seat on the cushion by your toppled vanity, glowing eyes locked onto you.

Pretty Dolly Heart.

Your lips were painted a vivid red, pouting slightly in a frown. Damp, glossy curls framed your face, shimmering in the light and tempting him to reach out and run his fingers through them. Rivulets of blood marred your temple, staining the delicate white flowers nestled into your hair.

The TV Demon was interested in you, and he wouldn't let go until he went home with you tonight, that much was clear.

"I have a deal in mind," Vox turned to Mimzy with a look in his eyes that screamed trouble. "Are you willing to trade your soul for hers?"

Your blood ran cold with fear.

"As Velvette and I are business partners, our souls contracts are intertwined. I'm sure there would be no issue if you signed the deal with me instead," he added with a chuckle, his eyes swirling with a dangerous allure.

Panic clawed at your insides, urging you to flee from the impending doom that loomed before you. But rooted to the spot by fear, you found yourself unable to move.

"Yes! A-Absolutely!" Mimzy's words shattered the heavy silence, her voice trembling with desperation as she nodded frantically. Her eyes remained nervously glued to the crackling electricity of the torn wires still wrapped around her, the fear in her gaze mirroring your own.

With a clap of his hands, Vox conjured a new contract and a strong burst of wind swept through the room, ruffling curtains and causing objects to tremble on their surfaces. Blue light flooded the walls, casting eerie shadows and filling the room with an ominous glow. The atmosphere crackled with electricity, every hair on your body standing on end as if charged with static energy.

A tablet materialized and floated before you, its screen pulsing with a faint, golden glow.

"Make her sign here, and it'll be done," Vox instructed, his voice carrying an air of finality as he handed Mimzy a stylus, tapping his clawed finger along the screen of his tablet.

With a trembling hand, Mimzy took the stylus and held it out for you, the strings of her magic wrapping around your limbs once again. You attempted to shout out, but Mimzy's magic stitched your lips shut, leaving you unable to utter a sound.

Helpless, you watched as your hand was forced to reach out and take the pen into your grasp, your fingers moving against your will as Mimzy guided them to sign the contract. With each stroke of the pen, a wave of despair washed over you, a muffled sob bubbling from your throat as your name appeared on the screen, sealing your fate.

Vox's grin widened, a glint of triumph dancing in his eyes as he held up your old paper contract with Mimzy, the words now rendered meaningless. With a swift motion, he tore it to shreds, the sound of paper ripping echoing through the tense silence of the room.

"Welcome to VoxTek, Dolly."

[fairlyabookie]

the things you do that got them head over heads (pt. 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

Jade - accompanying him on a hike

The evening skies, a perfect shade of violet and pink, heralded the time to hike. Classes, lengthy lectures completed with more homework, had finally concluded and so, with a simple trot over to the premises outside of campus, Jade’s club activities officially started. You wanted to tag along, wanting to get a change of pace outside of class - besides, you were getting burnt out from studying your butt off for exams. Being the gentleman that he was, Jade agreed to your wishes, allowing you to come along as you wished.

Matter of fact, he was quite excited when you approached him to go hiking with him. He had to withhold every urge he had to tell you the many routes he goes for his hiking activities. With a small smile, he offers his equipment and a journal of the flora he had encountered on his travels, another journal for the mushrooms - don’t ask.

Jade would gladly indulge your curiosities, already answering the questions you have in mind about the surrounding nature. He practically memorized each form of life from his hikes, saying a factoid or two and consulting his journal to point out his observations about it - he might’ve consumed one or two just to taste-test.. As he explained every detail of his travels, he caught a glimpse of your attentive gaze, a tender smile on your lips as you listened. His words faltered for a moment as he found himself lost in those beautiful eyes.

“Mm, were you saying something, Jade?” You perk an eyebrow. A quizzical look replaces Jade’s expression, his cheeks are colored a peony-pink. He turns around, clearing his throat to recover his demeanor. You totally didn’t see him staring. “I’m alright, [Reader]. Let’s continue on.” He offers an arm, fixing his gaze on the path ahead of you.

Silver - waking him up

Slumber lay upon Silver like a heavy blanket, a canopy of pleasant dreams flickering in his vision as a gentle wind tussles his locks. He opens his eyes, his vision alight with colors of spring, floral scents of blooming flowers drift along, as the heavy veil of sweet dreams lifts from Silver’s mind.

He sees the sky opening up to him, the beautiful blue sight for sore eyes. The lunch hour was the perfect time to nap, where he isn’t scolded by Sebek for showing poor decorum or Riddle for neglecting his club duties. A yawn escapes from his lips, the remnants of sleep lingering in his body. A chuckle startles him from his stupor. Of course, you were waiting for him to wake up.

As if on cue, the critters and birds surrounding the second year disperse, their departure an official conclusion to his daytime slumber. You stifle a chuckle, a childish thought passing your mind as you witness the exodus of animals taking their leave.

“Did you sleep well, Sleepyhead?” An affectionate smile cross your lips as you offer a hand for your classmate. It was hard not to ignore the thump on his chest as he pulls himself up. “It was very restful.” He replies simply, stretching out fatigued muscles and knots on his body.

Jamil - insisting him to rest up

Working was second nature to Jamil - the second he gets up from his bed, a million things come to mind. A break means nothing to him as soon as he proceeds with his routine, from waking Kalim up to preparing meals for the dorm - he had no time to commit to himself save for a meal or two. When you catch a busy Jamil in the middle of cleaning up, you have to force him to stop.

Jamil’s thoughts screech to a halt as you place yourself in front of Jamil, a firm grip on his hands. Your lips form a pout, one he saw too often from his little sister, but one that meant business to his apparent dilemma. Guess I’ll have to go through this before I do anything, the second year thinks to himself, bracing the inevitable as you take him to an empty seat by the common room.

From that point on, you placed a ban on Jamil not to enter the kitchen under any circumstance - that fed wonderfully to his paranoia. You were very adamant about this, even throwing glares his way to ensure that he didn’t move from his seat. A few moments later, you emerge from the kitchen, along with the residents, a meal palette befitting of a king and a couple of self-care supplies.

A stunned Jamil watches you tend to him, reclining his seat back where he sees you work your magic. The others, now in the absence of Jamil’s usual machinations, reigned in the kitchen - with Kalim in tow - as they set the dorm for a feast, even providing a portion for Jamil when you finish up with him. “You are to rest, Mr. Viper. An hour of rest shouldn’t bother you, no?” A teasing smile from you was enough to shut him up - did he have a weak spot for you already?* He says nothing, letting you work the treatment befitting of a king.

Kalim - inviting him to your very own party

Kalim had a penchant for parties, and boy, does he know how to throw one. His skills as a capable host would more or less impress those who came by; their expressions a blend of excitement, eagerness, and surprise when he shows them hospitality befitting of a king.

Of course, a party always meant a change of pace, somewhere one could unwind and relax, somewhere where they could detach themselves from reality. Alas, a party could last for so long and happen occasionally - too much would do terrible on the mind, and he certainly didn’t want to accidentally upset folks by doing more parties.

You, on the other hand, approached him with an invitation: an invitation to your humble home at Ramshackle Dorm for a small hang-out with friends. A simple hang-out, nothing bombastic, nothing too extravagant; a quaint get-together between friends, coupled with games, entertainment, and snacks for everyone.

To say he was touched was an understatement of his feelings when he came to your party. Here, he was bonding time with friends and just having a good time. Kalim reaches out to you with a hug, “Thank you, thank you, [Reader]!” You reciprocate the hug with a sweet smile. “It’s really no biggie, Kalim. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself here.”

author's note: I played with too many ideas with these concepts; spare sanity. joking aside, I hope you enjoyed these, and please feel free to share, like, and comment!

[aryadelvich]

Studying with Luigi

Here’s a story from this request

If you’re looking for more of my work here’s Updated Masterlist

Summary : Luigi has a secret crush on you. Both of you attending the same university. When you ask him for help with math, what starts as a simple study session quickly gets spicy !!

Warning : explicite content 🔞🔞

I don’t know why this song feels like Luigi in college.

Luigi stood in the university hall, leaning casually against a wall as his friends joked around. Though he appeared to be listening, his focus shifted the moment he saw you descending the staircase.

His gaze lingered longer than it should have, tracing the determined set of your jaw and the way you clutched a paper tightly in one hand. There was something different about you today—your usual cheerful demeanor had been replaced by a tense, distracted air.

Then your eyes met his.

Caught off guard, Luigi looked away quickly, his pulse quickening.

"Oh, look. It's Y/N," one of his friends said with a teasing grin, just loud enough for you to hear.

As if on cue, the group turned to look at you. Luigi let out a quiet sigh, his jaw tightening. He had noticed you from the very first day of class but hadn't said anything to his friends. And now, they were practically gawking.

You stopped mid-step, offering the group a polite smile. "Hi, guys."

Your gaze flickered briefly to Luigi, and this time, you greeted him with a smile that held just the faintest edge of teasing.

"Hi, Luigi," you said, your tone light.

His throat tightened, and his response came out awkwardly, barely audible. "H-hi Y/n"

You stepped closer, holding out the paper in your hand. "I need help with applied mathematics. You're taking it as a minor, right? And from what I hear, you're pretty good at it."

"Oh... yeah," Luigi stammered, unprepared for your directness.

Before he could offer a proper response, one of his friends cut in, raising a hand dramatically. "I can help you too, Y/N!"

"Yeah, me too," another added, clearly trying to impress you.

Luigi shot them both an annoyed glance. "Back off," he muttered, though his tone remained light enough to pass as joking.

You raised an eyebrow, amusement flashing in your eyes. “I’m gonna choose whoever scored the highest on the last test gets to tutor me."

The group fell into a brief silence, and then the scores started coming in.

"71."

"82."

"89."

"80."

Finally, Luigi spoke, his voice calm and steady. "95."

Your lips curved into a grin. "Well, looks like we have a winner. Luigi, you're my tutor."

The subtle pride in his expression didn't escape you, though he tried to play it cool.

"How about tomorrow at the library?" he offered.

You shook your head. "I need to study tonight—my retake is the day after tomorrow. Your place or mine?"

Luigi froze, your words echoing in his mind. Around him, his friends erupted into laughter, elbowing each other and exchanging smirks.

"M-my room... if that's okay with you," he managed, his voice suddenly tight.

"Perfect," you said with an easy smile. "I'll see you after class, then."

As you turned and walked off, Luigi stared after you, his thoughts racing.

"Dude, did you hear that? She literally said, 'Your place or mine.' That's your chance !" one of his friends teased, slapping him on the shoulder.

Luigi shoots them a sharp look. "Shut up. She just needs help, that's all."

"Sure, sure," another friend says, smirking knowingly.

But Luigi doesn't respond. He's too preoccupied with the thought of spending time with you alone. Ever since you entered his life, you've had a way of unsettling the calm, logical order he's used to.

[7 PM]

Luigi paced nervously in his room, adjusting the books and papers on his desk for what felt like the hundredth time. He smoothed the creases in his shirt, glanced at the clock, and took a steadying breath.

A soft knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He opened it to find you standing there, arms full of notes, a faint smile on your lips.

"Ready for an intense night of applied math?" you joke.

He steps aside to let you in, trying to mask his nervousness. "I hope you're prepared to work hard because I'm a tough teacher," he quips.

You laugh as you take a seat at his desk, spreading out your notes. Luigi watches you discreetly, wondering why your presence alone is enough to make his heart race. He pulled up a chair beside you. He sits next to you and opens a notebook filled with neatly organized notes. His subtle cologne lingers in the air, and you can't help but notice how focused he looks when he starts explaining.

"Alright, show me what's giving you trouble," he says, gesturing to your notes.

You flip to a particularly challenging problem. "This one. Honestly, equations like this make me want to quit. Differential equations are a nightmare."

Luigi chuckles softly. "They seem daunting, but once you understand the logic, it's not so bad. Let's break it down step by step."

He explains with patience, his calm voice guiding you through each line. As complicated as the topic is, his methodical approach makes everything click.

"Oh! I get it now!" you exclaim, your face lighting up. "Why didn't anyone explain it like this before? It's so obvious!"

He grins, clearly proud of your progress. "See? I told you it wasn't as hard as it looked."

You work together for a while, your confidence growing with each solved problem. At one point, as you reach for his notebook, your fingers brush against his. The brief touch makes you pause, and you notice him quickly look away, his ears turning red.

"Sorry," you murmur, pulling your hand back.

"It's... it's nothing," he replies, his voice quiet.

The atmosphere grows heavier as you both become more aware of the growing tension between you.

At one point, your hands brushed as you both reached for the same pen. You pulled back quickly, but not before your gaze met his. A flicker of something passed between you—brief, but undeniable. Luigi looked away again, clearing his throat.

Luigi leaned closer to point out an error in your notes, his shoulder brushing against yours. You froze, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was.

"Here," he murmured, his raspy voice lower now, almost intimate.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, taking in the slight crease in his brow as he concentrated. The sharp lines of his jaw, the faint curl of his hair—it all felt too distracting.

"Got it?" he asked, his tone snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Y-yeah," you stammered, focusing back on the paper.

But even as the night continued, the unspoken tension between you lingered, growing in the quiet spaces between words. Neither of you dared to name it, but it was there—electric and impossible to ignore.

A few minutes later, after tackling another problem, Luigi leans closer to explain a particular detail. His proximity sends a wave of nervous energy through you, but you fight to keep your focus. When his elbow accidentally brushes against the side of your chest, warmth spreads through your body, pooling low in your stomach. 

"Sorry," he murmurs, his voice tinged with embarrassment. 

"It's fine..." you reply softly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

But your concentration falters as your thoughts begin to wander. Your eyes trace the lines of his hands—large and strong, with long, deft fingers. Veins crisscross his forearms, disappearing into the back of his hands, and the way he grips the pen exudes a quiet confidence. His arms are muscular, his collarbone defined, hinting at the sculpted frame beneath his shirt. 

Your gaze dips lower, involuntarily lingering at his crotch for a moment too long. You can't help yourself. Luigi has always been a contradiction: introverted and composed, yet brimming with a quiet fire, a confidence you've never fully understood but can't help wanting to unravel. 

Your eyes shift back to his face, and you find yourself studying him anew. His profile is striking—an angular jawline, lips that seem almost too perfect, and a thick beard that he likely trims every day. His brows are bold, framing a gaze that is somehow both piercing and gentle. There's an elegance to his nose and a wildness to his untamed curls, as though he doesn't care enough to control them. 

You're not sure what's happening, what this magnetic pull between you means. And judging by the faint tension in his movements, neither does he. 

"Alright," Luigi says, his voice breaking through your reverie. "I'm going to give you an exercise now. It'll cover everything we've gone over so far. You'll work on it yourself while I keep an eye on your progress." 

"Okay," you reply, nodding eagerly, grasping at the distraction. 

He steps back, giving you space to focus. For a few minutes, you immerse yourself in the task, scribbling out equations and trying to channel all your thoughts into solving the problem. But then you feel him again—standing behind you, his presence throwing your concentration into disarray. Your mind strays to places it shouldn't, thoughts you can't control flaring to life. 

Luigi crouches down beside you, his arm resting on the back of your chair. The closeness feels almost deliberate, his movements steady yet unassuming, as if he's unaware of the way he's affecting you. 

"Look here," he instructs, his voice low and firm. 

He reaches for your pen, his fingers brushing against yours once again. The contact feels electric, sending a jolt through you. He corrects the mistake with a confident stroke, then places the pen back in your hand. 

Your eyes lift to meet his, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. The air between you feels charged, heavy with something unspoken yet impossible to ignore. You both break the gaze at the same time, awkward and unsure. The tension hangs there, undeniable yet unaddressed.

He leaned closer, his curly brown hair falling into his face as he pointed at a particularly confusing problem. "Okay," he said, his voice soft but confident, "tell me what the derivative of this function is."

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. Your eyes flickered to his face—his sharp jawline, the faint stubble, the way his lips curved into that patient smile. He caught your gaze and tilted his head, his brown eyes narrowing playfully.

"Focus," he teased, tapping the page with his pen.

"I... I don't remember," you admitted, flushing slightly under his scrutiny.

"Hmm." He clicked his tongue, feigning disappointment, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that made your stomach flutter. "Wrong answer. But don't worry, we'll get there."

He scooted closer, his thigh brushing against yours, and you felt a jolt of warmth shoot through your body. His voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial. "Let's break it down step by step. Think of it like building something from scratch—you start with the foundation, right?"

You nodded, though your attention was less on the math and more on the way his hand gestured animatedly as he explained. God, why does he have to be so damn attractive? His rolled-up sleeves revealed the veins running along his forearms, and you couldn't help but imagine how they'd feel under your fingertips.

"So, if f(x) equals 2x squared plus 3x minus 4," he continued, writing out the equation neatly, "what's the first step?"

Your mind went blank again, but this time it wasn't just because of the math. The proximity was getting to you—his woodsy cologne, the warmth radiating off his body, the way his leg pressed against yours. You shifted slightly, trying to focus, but it was impossible.

"Uh..." you stalled, glancing up at him.

His lips quirked into a knowing smirk. "Wrong again," he murmured, leaning in even closer. His breath ghosted over your ear as he whispered with his raspy voice, "You're not paying attention, are you?"

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "Maybe I need a different kind of lesson," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Luigi froze for a moment, his pen hovering mid-air. Then, slowly, he set it down and turned to face you fully. His expression was unreadable, but there was a heat in his gaze that sent shivers down your spine. "Oh?" he said, his voice low and velvety. "What kind of lesson did you have in mind?"

You hesitated for only a second before reaching out and placing a hand on his chest. His heartbeat thudded beneath your palm, steady and strong. "One where you show me exactly how much you know," you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your boldness.

His lips parted in surprise, but then his eyes darkened with something primal, something hungry. He leaned in, his nose brushing against yours. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

"Positive," you breathed, closing the distance between you.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if both of you were testing the waters. But then his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and everything changed. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you dizzy, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming you in a way that made your toes curl.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were hooded, his pupils blown wide with desire. "If I'm going to teach you anything," he murmured, his voice rough, "you're going to have to follow my rules."

You nodded, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "What are they?"

A wicked grin spread across his face. "Every time you get a question wrong," he said, trailing a finger down your arm, "I stop. No touching, no kissing, nothing. Until you get it right."

"And if I get it right?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His grin widened. "Then I'll reward you appropriately."

Before you could respond, he grabbed the textbook again and flipped to a new page. "Alright," he said, his tone suddenly serious, though his eyes still burned with mischief. "What's the integral of sine x?"

Your brain scrambled to recall the formula, but all you could think about was the way his thumb was tracing circles on your thigh. "I don't care."

He shook his head, clicking his tongue again. "Nope. Wrong." And just like that, he leaned back, his hands dropping away from you.

You groaned in frustration, but there was a thrill in the challenge, a fire igniting deep within you. "Fine. Try me again."

This time, when he asked another question, you forced yourself to focus, determined not to let him win so easily. And when you finally got the answer right, the look of pure satisfaction on his face was worth every second of torment.

"Good," he purred, pulling you back into his arms. His lips crashed against yours, his hands roaming your body with possessive intent. His touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you as he explored every inch of your skin.

But just as things were heating up, he pulled away again, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Next question," he said, his voice thick with arousal. "What's the limit as x approaches infinity of 1 over x?"

You bit your lip, your mind racing. "Zero?"

He smiled, slow and dangerous. "Correct."

And then his lips were on you again, his hands everywhere at once, until the only thing you could think about was him—his taste, his touch, the sound of his ragged breathing as he whispered your name.

But just as you reached for the hem of his shirt, he stopped you, his grip firm. "Wait," he said, his voice hoarse. "What's the area under the curve of y equals x squared from 0 to 2?"

You blinked, your brain struggling to catch up. "Uh... 8/3?"

He grinned, his hands sliding up your thighs. "Exactly right."

And then he kissed you again, harder this time, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you onto his lap. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other, desperate and wanting.

But before things could escalate further, he broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he stared into your eyes. "Last question," he said, his voice shaking with restraint. "What's the probability of us finishing this without any interruptions?"

You laughed breathlessly, your hands tangling in his hair. "Slim to none."

"That's what I thought," he growled, pressing his forehead against yours. "But I'm willing to take the risk if you are."

His hands slid up your thighs, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through your body. The air in the room was thick with tension, every breath you took filling your lungs with the scent of him—clean sweat, cologne, and something uniquely Luigi. His brown eyes locked onto yours, dark with desire, but still glinting with that playful intelligence that always seemed to disarm you. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "What's the derivative of e^(2x)?"

You froze for a moment, your mind struggling to focus on anything other than the way his fingers were now tracing circles on your inner thigh. Think, think. You bit your lip, trying to recall the formula. "Uh... 2e^(2x)?"

A slow, approving smile spread across his face. "Perfect," he murmured, his voice low and smooth like honey. His hand moved higher, his fingertips grazing the edge of your panties. You gasped, arching into his touch, but he paused, his smile turning teasing. "Next question. What's the integral of sin(x)? If you get it wrong, I stop."

"Luigi," you whined, squirming under his hold. His thumb pressed against the sensitive spot just above your knee, making it nearly impossible to concentrate. "That's not fair."

"All's fair in love and math," he teased, leaning back slightly to give you space to think. His confidence was infuriatingly attractive, and you couldn't help but laugh despite the ache pooling between your legs.

"The integral is -cos(x)," you said quickly, hoping to end the torture.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Brava," he said as he pulled you closer. His hands slid up your sides, lifting your shirt over your head before you could even process what was happening. The cool air of the room hit your skin, but his body heat chased away any chill. His lips found yours again, hungry and demanding, while his hands explored every curve of your torso.

Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. He chuckled against your mouth, letting you undo them one by one until his chest was finally bare. Your hands roamed over his abs, tracing the ridges and feeling the tightness of his muscles. He groaned softly, his hips pressing up into yours, and you could feel how hard he already was through his pants.

But before you could take things further, he pulled back again, his breathing ragged. "One more question," he said, his voice rough. "What's the limit as x approaches infinity of (3x^2 + 2)/(4x^2 - 1)?"

You groaned, dropping your forehead to his shoulder. "Are you serious right now?"

"Dead serious," he said, his fingers trailing down your spine, making you shiver. "Answer correctly, and I'll make sure you forget your own name."

You could barely think straight, but you forced yourself to focus. The answer came to you in a haze. "Three over four?"

His smile was wicked as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your neck. "Very good baby," he breathed, his hot breath sending goosebumps across your skin. "Now, let me show you how well I can reward good students."

In one swift motion, he stood, lifting you with him as if you weighed nothing. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and he carried you to his bed, laying you down gently before climbing over you. His kisses trailed down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When his lips closed around your nipple, you gasped, your back arching off the bed.

His hands worked quickly, pulling off the rest of your clothes until you were completely bare beneath him. His eyes drank in the sight of you, and the hunger in his gaze made your stomach twist with anticipation. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Before you could respond, his lips descended lower, kissing a path down your stomach until he reached your core. You tensed, your hands gripping the sheets as his tongue touched you for the first time. The sensation was electric, sending sparks through your entire body. He licked slowly, deliberately, driving you insane with the unhurried pace. Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he pressed two fingers inside you, curling them in a way that made you cry out.

"Luigi!" you moaned, your hips lifting off the bed as he worked you with his mouth and fingers. Every stroke, every lick felt like it was unraveling you piece by piece. You were close—so close—but then he stopped, looking up at you with that devilish smirk.

"What's the value of pi to five decimal places?" he asked, his voice steady despite the slickness on his chin.

"Are you fucking kidding me—" you started, but he cut you off with a pinch to your thigh.

"Answer correctly, and I'll finish what I started," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You clenched your fists, frustration and desperation warring within you. "3.14159," you spat out, glaring at him.

His grin widened, and he didn't waste another second. His tongue dove back in, and this time, he didn't stop until you were trembling beneath him, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You cried out his name, your voice breaking as pleasure consumed you.

When you finally came down, he kissed his way back up your body, his lips claiming yours in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only heightened the ache between your legs. His cock pressed against you, hot and heavy, and you reached between you to free him from his pants.

As soon as your hand wrapped around him, he sucked in a sharp breath, his hips jerking forward. "Y/n" he muttered, his voice strained. "You're going to kill me."

You stroked him slowly, savoring the way his eyelids fluttered and his breath hitched. But before you could tease him further, he grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head. "My turn," he growled, settling between your legs. The tip of his cock pressed against you, and you both groaned as he pushed inside, inch by inch.

It was almost too much—his size stretching you in the best way possible—but he gave you time to adjust, peppering your neck with soft kisses. When he finally bottomed out, he stilled, his forehead resting against yours. "Tell me this is okay," he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"Keep going" you replied, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Please, Luigi. Don't stop."

He didn't need to be told twice. His hips began to move, each thrust hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. His rhythm was relentless, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. You clung to him, nails digging into his back as you urged him on. His name spilled from your lips like a prayer, and each time he swallowed your cries with a kiss.

The coil in your stomach tightened again, your second orgasm building faster than you expected. "I'm close," you gasped, your legs shaking around him.

"Me too," he panted, his movements becoming erratic. "Where do you want me to—"

"Inside," you interrupted, the word coming out as a desperate plea. "Please."

He groaned, burying his face in your neck as his thrusts became harder, deeper. With one final push, you shattered, your climax tearing through you like a storm. He followed moments later, spilling himself inside you with a guttural moan. For a long moment, neither of you moved, too lost in the aftermath to care about anything else.

Finally, he rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so you were curled against his chest. His heartbeat was rapid under your ear, and his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. "Thank you," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You looked up at him, grinning despite your exhaustion. "For what? Being a genius at math?"

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "For trusting me." His expression turned thoughtful, and he tilted your chin up so you were looking directly into his eyes.

You stride confidently through the university hall, a triumphant smile lighting up your face. Spotting Luigi, you rush toward him and throw yourself into his arms without hesitation. 

"So, what did you got ?" he asks, barely able to contain his excitement. 

"Ninety-seven! Luigi, you're incredible!" you exclaim, wrapping your arms tightly around him. The curious stares from other students don't faze you in the slightest. 

"I'm proud of you, Y/N!" he says, his tone full of warmth and pride. 

"Well, I had the best tutor anyone could ask for," you reply with a teasing grin. 

Not far away, Luigi's group of friends watches the scene, their confusion evident as they exchange glances, silently trying to piece together what they're seeing. 

"How about we celebrate properly? Dinner's on me," Luigi suggests, his smile growing wider. 

"Absolutely!" 

Without thinking, you lean in and kiss his cheek, the gesture natural and full of gratitude. Luigi chuckles softly, his ears turning just a bit pink, but he doesn't pull away. The buzz of the hall seems to fade, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of joy.

GIRLS IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS ASK ME I WILL DO IT WITH PLEASURE !!!! FEEL FREE TO ASK !!!

[yuckiemouth]

Ugh I miss u sex with Riki bro like him coming home from tour I’m frustrated

“I Missed You So Much”

“did you think of me every-time you masturbated in your dorm?”

After their ‘WALK THE LINE’ tour, ENHYPEN finally got the chance to fly overseas to reunite with their friends and family. Although the experience was exhausting yet enjoyable for all seven members, they could finally relax—at least until they navigate through the throngs of enthusiastic fans and paparazzi. The pushing, shoving, screams, and tears were finally behind them as they settled into their first-class seats—something they could now afford, escaping the usual chaos of being followed even in the air. Riki sat at the very back by the window, headphones over his ears, resting his head on a neck pillow as he settled in for some much-needed rest. A soft ding interrupted his music. Riki glanced down, picking up his phone from his lap. A message from Y/N, his secret girlfriend back in Japan, lit up the screen. It read: “I can’t wait to see u ❤️.”

A warm smile spread across Riki's face as he read Y/N's sweet text. He quickly typed out a reply, "Me too, baby. Can't wait to hold you again." His thumbs hovered over the send button, but then he hesitated. Better not risk getting caught by the others, especially Jake who always seemed to snoop around his phone. Riki deleted the message and replaced it with a more innocent one: "Miss you already! See you soon!" Satisfied, he hit send before putting his phone away and sinking deeper into his seat, letting the gentle hum of the plane lull him towards sleep once more.

His phone dinged again and Riki’s 100% sure Jake would’ve twisted his head and asked “who’s texting you so much?”, but luckily he was slumped next to the seats beside him with his mouth agape. Riki chuckled before snapping a pic, preparing to use it for blackmail. He quickly checked Y/N’s message and it read: view picture. He dubiously viewed the picture and he inaudibly gasped. Y/N’s shirt was lifted with her perky titties in frame with the letters blocking her nipples like a tease. “I really need you.” Riki felt a stirring in his loins as he gazed at the provocative photo, his eyes lingering on Y/N's tantalizing cleavage. He bit his lip, trying to stifle a moan. Damn, she knew just how to make him ache for her. He couldn't wait to get his hands on those perfect tits again, to taste her skin and hear her breathy pleas for more.

With a smirk, Riki typed out a response, keeping his words light and playful to avoid arousing suspicion. "Mmm, I really do need you too, baby. But we have a few hours till we land. Why don't you play with yourself while thinking about me?" He attached another sultry selfie of himself lounging comfortably, his bulge barely concealed beneath his pants. "Get me hard for our reunion." Riki let out a low chuckle, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair in anticipation. His mind wandered to their last encounter, the way she'd writhed beneath him, crying out his name as he pounded into her tight little pussy. The memory alone was enough to make his cock twitch inside his pants. With a sigh, he decided to drift off with that thought.

.

.

.

As Riki approached Y/N's apartment building, a sense of relief washed over him. Being surrounded by his loving family had been wonderful, but there was no denying that he craved the intimacy and passion he shared with Y/N. He quickened his pace, his heart racing with anticipation as he climbed the stairs to her door. Taking a deep breath, Riki knocked softly, hoping she wouldn't keep him waiting. When the door swung open, he was greeted by Y/N's radiant smile, her eyes sparkling with adoration. Without a word, Riki pulled her into his arms, claiming her lips in a searing kiss filled with pent-up desire. He needed her, wanted her, and nothing else mattered in that moment. Riki shoved her back into the apartment with the wet kiss, pushing the door back close with a soft kick.

Riki's hands roamed over Y/N's curves as he backed her against the wall, breaking the kiss only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jawline and down the column of her throat. He nipped and sucked at her sensitive skin, leaving a path of love bites in his wake. "Missed you so fucking much," Riki growled against her ear, his voice husky with lust. He ground his hips against hers, the hardness of his arousal pressing insistently against her belly. "Need to be inside you, Y/N. Now." Without waiting for a response, Riki scooped her up into his strong arms, carrying her towards the bedroom as he devoured her mouth once more. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them lost in their desperate hunger for each other. Riki laid Y/N gently on the bed, his hands roaming her body as he kissed a fiery trail down her chest. He paused to worship her breasts, sucking and nibbling at her pert nipples until they pebbled under his attention. Y/N arched into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she gasped and whimpered with pleasure.

"Please, Riki," she panted, her hips bucking upwards in search of friction. "I'm so wet for you. Fill me up, baby." He grinned against her skin, his cock throbbing with need. He slid down her body, kissing and licking a path to her dripping core. "Oh, I plan to," he murmured, burying his face between her thighs and inhaling deeply. "Fuck, you smell incredible." He left one last kiss on her inner thigh before adjusting himself between her thighs.

His rigid erection brushing against her slick folds. He looked up at her, his dark eyes smoldering with raw desire. "Fuck, I’ve missed you, Y/N," he urged, his voice thick with lust. "Hmm, this wet pussy," Y/N's breath hitched, her gaze locked onto Riki's as she reached down to guide him to her entrance. "I want you to fuck me hard," she whispered, her voice trembling with need. "Make me scream your name until my throat is raw." Riki groaned, his control slipping at her bold demand. With a swift thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her, stretching her walls deliciously around his thickness. "Oh, fuck yes," his eyes rolled as he began thrusting into her tightness. Her mouth falls agape with desperate pleas escaping her short breath. “Uh huh, yeah, fuck me harder,” she nodded, encouraging him to go faster.

Riki gripped Y/N's hips tightly, pounding into her with reckless abandon as he chased his impending release. Her inner walls clenched around him, milking his cock with every thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin and their ragged breathing filled the room, creating a primal symphony of lust. "You're so damn tight," Riki grunted, sweat beading on his forehead as he drove deeper. "Take all of me, baby. Every inch." Y/N's cries grew louder, her nails digging into his arms as she teetered on the edge. "Riki! Oh god, Riki!" she wailed, her body tensing beneath him. With one final, brutal stroke, Riki felt Y/N convulse around him, her orgasm crashing over her in waves.

Riki's climax hit him like a freight train, his vision blurring as he spilled himself deep within Y/N's spasming heat. He collapsed on top of her, his heavy breaths mingling with hers as they both rode out the aftershocks. He rolled off her, pulling her close as they lay entwined in the aftermath of their passionate encounter. Riki pressed a soft kiss to her temple, feeling content and sated in a way that only Y/N could provide.

[faebled-stories]

Max Level: Pleasure Unlocked

Le Sserafim's Miyawaki Sakura x Male reader

AN: So... I may have been a tiny bit late to class today 😅. Why, you ask? Well... I was up all night re-watching Marry My Husband (totally worth it, btw). Anyway, fast forward to class, and I casually checked my phone, and—wait for it—WHAT?! Almost 300 likes for Ms. Kim Chaewon?! You guys are seriously amazing! 💖 This story was supposed to drop tomorrow, but because I love you all so much... here’s a little treat! 😘✨

P.S. Why is this lecture soooo long? Send help! 😂

Miyawaki Sakura, the eldest member of Le Sserafim, had found a new thrill—one that didn’t involve the stage lights or concert crowds. Live streaming had pulled her into its vibrant, fast-paced world of colorful pixels and instant connection. It wasn’t just a hobby anymore; it became her escape—a digital realm where she could unwind and be herself. Streaming offered her a space where she could share her love for video games in the most authentic way possible. Her laughter would echo through the headset, filling the room with the joy she found in navigating complex game worlds and strategizing with her audience. It was a welcome reprieve from the pressures of K-pop stardom, a place where she could exist without expectation.

But as Sakura’s love for streaming grew, so did the distance between her and Y/N. Y/N cherished their quiet evenings together—the ones filled with soft conversations, playful glances, and the warmth of shared intimacy. Now, those moments seemed to slip away, replaced by the blue glow of Sakura's monitor and the sounds of gaming filling the room. He found himself feeling increasingly sidelined, the comforting presence of his girlfriend diluted by the endless stream of fan interactions and in-game distractions. Every evening, as he sat in their apartment watching her stream, Y/N felt like a shadow in her life, forgotten behind the glow of her screen.

The silence after Sakura's gaming sessions hung in the air, heavy and unfamiliar, a stark contrast to the laughter that used to fill their nights. He would lie in bed, staring at the empty space beside him, wondering when their quiet, intimate nights had been swapped for late-night streams. The late-night absence became more palpable, the connection they once shared now buried beneath layers of bright pixels and fan interactions.

Frustrated and unsure of how to bridge the growing gap between them, Y/N turned to the one person who knew both of them best—Kwon Eunbi, Sakura's former leader and the matchmaker who had brought them together in the first place. Eunbi, always the voice of reason and support, listened with a thoughtful expression as Y/N poured out his concerns.

"I just don't know how to get her attention anymore," Y/N confessed, his voice tinged with frustration. "She used to light up when we were together, but now it feels like I'm competing with a screen."

Eunbi, ever the sage, leaned in with a twinkle in her eye, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Well, my dear, sometimes you just need to remind her of what she's missing," she said, her tone playful yet reassuring. "There's this little shop downtown. They have... items that might help reignite that spark you're worried about. A little mystery, a little surprise—that's the key."

Y/N blushed at the suggestion, but the idea intrigued him. Maybe Eunbi was right—maybe a little spontaneity was exactly what their relationship needed. "Okay noona," Y/N said with newfound determination. "Take me there. I'll do whatever it takes."

Eunbi grinned. "That's the spirit. Trust me, after this, she'll be more than eager to spend some time away from that screen, and if it doesn't work out... you have my number" the older girl winked before giving a slightly playful slap to Y/N’s behind

As soon as Eunbi led him into the little adult shop tucked away in a quiet side street downtown, Y/N’s nerves melted into curiosity. The shop was intimate, lined with rows of items that promised to stoke passion and bring lovers closer. Eunbi was more than willing to offer her guidance, clearly enjoying herself as she pointed out various products.

"Trust me," Eunbi had said with a wink, picking up a small bullet vibrator from one of the shelves. "This one is discreet but packs a punch, It's perfect for getting things started. She won’t see it coming." Y/N’s cheeks had flushed at the thought, but the image of Sakura’s surprised reaction made her smile. It was perfect for catching his girlfriend off guard.

As they continued browsing, Y/N’s eyes landed on a sleek, curved G-spot vibrating dildo that promised deeper, more intense sensations. He couldn’t help but imagine how Sakura might respond to its use—what that extra thrill might do to rekindle the heat between them. Eunbi happily skips over to Y/N with a box that he hasn't seen before, a rabbit ear vibrator "Y/N you have to get this, I’m telling you Sakura will melt and turn to putty in your hands, I have one myself and it's pretty amazing." Y/N looked at his noona with a skeptical look. Why is she so into this, is his precious noona actually not as innocent as she portrayed to the public?

Thinking about her words he can't deny that the idea of being the one to control Sakura’s pleasure sent a surge of excitement through him. He added it to his growing selection of items.

The final addition was a delicate set of pastel pink lingerie. His girlfriend's favorite color. lace-lined and revealing, something that he knew she would love, he remembered her saying she wanted something similar to this but was always ashamed and embarrassed to buy it

Y/N picked up the set knowing how much it would make his lover feel even sexier. He could already imagine the fabric clinging to his girlfriend's skin, the look in Sakura’s eyes when she sees it. There was no doubt that tonight, he would make sure all of Sakura’s attention was focused on him.

As the duo went to the counter the current cashier was about to take a break and out comes his replacement, someone who Y/N would not have expected to work here.

"Oh Eunbi unnie welcome back Oh! and Y/N oppa, what are you doing here?" the duck looking girl squealed. To say Y/N was shocked is an understatement. His girlfriend's former members, his friends, were all so familiar with this place.

"I was showing Y/N around the store, he needed my help" Responded the eldest. "Oppa is Sakura unnie giving you a hard time?" Yena responded, causing Y/N to shrink into himself in embarrassment. 

The girl started scanning the products one by one, her curious eyes glanced back and forth from y/n and each product he bought. "I didn't think Sakura unnie would be into this, I guess she's less of a prude than I thought" At this point Y/N just wanted to leave, he slightly hid behind his noona as she started placing her own products she wanted to buy. 

"I’ll pay for it Y/N I get a discount here, just pay me back after" Y/N nodded before Eunbi tapped her card and they both left with Yena waving to them, saying that they should visit her again.

With his purchases in hand, Y/N left the shop feeling embarrassed about the whole situation but he thought about the end goal and it made him feel more confident than ever. This was his chance to break through the monotony that had settled between them.

Later that evening, back in their shared apartment, Sakura was already in the midst of her nightly streaming routine. Her set up was in the living room, per Y/N's request after waking him up way too many times. It was bathed in the soft glow of the monitor, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across her face as she engaged with her audience. Y/N, his heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement, watched from the shadows, clutching the items he had bought earlier.

He knew exactly what to do.

Grabbing a piece of paper, Y/N quickly scribbled a note and held it up just out of view of the camera, flashing it at Sakura with a grin. The note read: "Since you're so into games, let's play one right now, this will be level one, don't make anything obvious, good luck."

Sakura blinked in confusion at first, her head tilting as she tried to make sense of the message. But when she looked up at Y/N’s playful expression a delicate smile spread across his lips, a knowing look in his eyes. Sakura then glanced down at her stream, her posture adjusting as if nothing had changed, she quickly muted her mic. “ Not now Y/N, I'm busy.” before turning it back on and saying her mic was glitching. But Y/N had spent too long planning this out, spent too much money to turn back now. 

Satisfied with the confusion, Y/N smiled back. The game was on.

Without another word, Y/N crouched and began crawling under the desk. Since her desk was longer than any normal person would normally have, It made the access to the prize easy for him as he just needed to go from the side, his movements smooth and deliberate, hidden from the camera’s view. Sakura’s attention was still on the screen, her voice cheerful as she interacted with her viewers, but Y/N knew it wouldn’t be long before his girlfriend’s focus would shift entirely. Beneath the desk, Y/N felt a rush of excitement as he prepared to introduce a new level of spontaneity into Sakura’s night.

The note had been the first step—a secret shared between them, a playful challenge that only the two of them would understand. What happened next was up to Y/N, and he was ready to make it unforgettable.

Y/N smirked as he slowly slid the small bullet vibrator out of its box, he wiped it with a wet wipe before lifting up the pink short skirt in front of him, He brought the toy up and pressed it against Sakura's panty-covered mound, watching with delight as the Japanese girl jolted slightly in her seat. Sakura tried her best to maintain focus on the video game, determinedly gripping her mouse and keyboard as she attempted to hide her reactions to the subtle vibrations. But Y/N could see right through her act - the way Sakura's thighs clenched together, the slight flush creeping across her cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as her breathing quickened.

To save face Sakura quickly slapped Y/N’s hand away from her wet pussy but Y/n quickly placed it back to its home.

The little vibrator buzzed away, its vibrations transmitted through the thin fabric barrier. Y/N could feel the heat radiating off of Sakura's core, could sense her wetness growing with each passing second. Sakura squirmed almost imperceptibly, fighting the urge to spread her legs further.

Sakura's game character died with a pitiful electronic squeal, breaking the spell. She blinked hard a few times, trying to regain her composure as she struggled to stay focused on the screen. Y/N chuckled quietly, pulling the vibrator away.

Rising up from his spot on the floor under the desk, Y/N made sure that he was holding eye contact with Sakura the whole way. Sakura's eyes widened as Y/N made a show of slowly swiping his fingers on the toy before rubbing them together and slowly pulling them apart a slick line of the idols juices were connecting Y/Ns fingers showing her that even though she's against it, her body doesn't lie. Y/N’s fingers were brought to his lips, eye contact still not breaking and in an exaggerated motion he licked her fingers clean. Sakura quickly glanced away, her face burning crimson now, but she couldn't keep her eyes from peeking back at Y/N. A shaky exhale escaped her lips.

Y/N just winked before reaching for a piece of paper that read Level 2 commencing before crawling back to her side of the desk, leaving Sakura even more flustered and distracted, though trying her best to play it cool. Y/N made a mental note - Sakura was even more responsive than expected. This was going to be fun indeed...

The next level involved the G-spot vibrating dildo, escalating the intensity. There was only one small thing blocking his way, deciding to deal with it he wrapped his fingers around her panties before giving it a quick and powerful tug completely ripping them. The sound loud enough to catch Sakura off guard. Shocked, the idol’s hand instinctively reached down, her fingertips brushing her now bare, wet pussy. She inhaled sharply, her body reacting to the sudden exposure, but she didn’t dare glance away from the screen.

Y/N teased her relentlessly, his fingers circling her entrance before finally pushing the toy into her slick cunt. He moved it slowly at first, letting her adjust to the sensation, feeling her muscles tighten around the intrusion. Sakura’s hand gripped her mouse tighter, her knuckles whitening as she fought to keep her composure. She nearly missed a key on her keyboard, her body betraying her as Y/N expertly played with her, pulling the toy out just as she neared the edge of release.

Her breath came in shallow, uneven pants. The subtle strain in her voice didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, who watched with a smirk, knowing just how close she was to losing control. Yet, he denied her the satisfaction of climax, bringing her to the edge again and again only to retreat, leaving her desperate and aching.

“Fuck,” Sakura muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible as she tried to focus on her stream. Her viewers, blissfully unaware of the torment unfolding beneath her desk, cheered her on in the game, oblivious to the real game being played just out of sight.

Y/N pulled the toy away once more, but this time, Sakura couldn't hold back her frustration. "Ahh, what the fuck" she whispered harshly, trying to control her reaction. She couldn’t look down to see what he was doing, not without giving herself away on camera. She tried to push through the absence, hoping Y/N would relent, but the moment stretched on.

And then, without warning, Y/N switched the vibrations onto its highest setting and plunged it back into her, the thick dildo buried deep inside her clenching cunt, the toy felt around and lived up to its name, pressing on that spot she loved.

"AHHHH!" Sakura’s cry pierced the quiet of the room, her pussy convulsing around the toy as an intense orgasm overtook her. She barely had time to mute her mic, her thighs trembling and squeezing together, her stomach contracting as wave after wave of electric pleasure crashed over her. Her body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alight with sensation

Her game character spun wildly on screen, her mouse jerking out of control as her body seized up. Her viewers, concerned but unsuspecting, quickly flooded the chat with messages.

"Are you okay? What happened?" one asked.

"You just screamed like you saw a ghost, lol," commented another, oblivious to the real reason behind her outburst.

Sakura’s cheeks burned with humiliation. They had heard her, but thankfully they couldn’t know the truth—how their sweet, innocent idol was secretly being driven to the brink of madness by her boyfriend under the desk. With a shaky breath, she forced a laugh. "Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I thought I saw a bug under the desk," she lied, her voice higher than usual, the embarrassment clear. "You know how I get when it comes to bugs!"

Her viewers, still clueless, accepted the explanation, laughing along with her as they playfully scolded her for getting so worked up over something so trivial. But Sakura’s mind was far from the stream now. The aftershocks of her orgasm still rippled through her, and she bit her lip hard, willing her body to calm down. The irony wasn’t lost on her—here she was, playing the role of their wholesome crush while secretly being ravaged by Y/N just out of sight.

Satisfied for the moment, Y/N leaned in and gave her sensitive pussy a slow, teasing lick, sending another shiver through her body. Her thighs trembled, clenching around his head as his tongue worked its magic. She didn’t want to admit how much she missed this—missed him—but the pleasure coursing through her veins made it impossible to deny. He left a final lingering kiss against her soaked lips before pulling away, leaving her panting and desperate for more.

As Y/N stood, he reached for the final toy in his collection, pulling the rabbit-ear vibrator from his bag. His fingers traced the packaging—Rabbit Ear Toy: Maximum Clitoral Stimulation—and a grin spread across his face. The playful sparkle in his eyes revealed his mischievous intent, recalling how Eunbi had enthusiastically recommended this particular device. With a small chuckle, he knew this would be the perfect grand finale to their secret, unspoken game.

Y/N scribbled a quick note—Level three, good luck—and slid it over to Sakura. Her gaze flicked to him, and their eyes met briefly. A silent exchange of both anticipation and trepidation passed between them. The tension hung thick in the air, a blend of excitement and nerves that only heightened the moment. Sakura’s cheeks flushed as her fingers hovered over the keyboard, pretending to remain focused on the game, but her attention was split, knowing what was coming next.

As Y/N shifted back into his familiar spot under the desk, his breath hitched in anticipation. It had become his little domain, a place where he could send Sakura into oblivion without her viewers being any the wiser. He carefully unwrapped the vibrator—an egg-shaped toy, compact but powerful. The soft, flexible rabbit ears promised an intensity that could tip her over the edge with just the right pressure. His hands, steady and deliberate, moved between her legs, teasing her for a moment. The toy slipped between her folds, refusing to cooperate at first, but Y/N’s persistence paid off. He finally nestled it perfectly in place, the rabbit ears snugly embracing her clit.

For a second, he paused. The anticipation in the room grew thick as Sakura shifted in her chair, her breaths shallow. The tension between them felt electric. Y/N knew what this small delay would do to her—he was prolonging the inevitable, letting her body crave the release that was just out of reach. Then, with a press of the button, the vibrator buzzed to life.

The effect was immediate. A surge of pleasure ripped through Sakura’s body, her muscles tensing as the toy began its relentless rhythm. She bit down hard on her lower lip, trying desperately not to give herself away. The overwhelming sensation sent waves of heat cascading from her core, and her hands trembled as they hovered over her mouse and keyboard, trying to maintain some semblance of control. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts, her body writhing ever so slightly, desperate to remain still for the camera.

Her chat lit up with messages of encouragement. Her viewers had no clue the real battle she was fighting—the one between maintaining her composure and succumbing to the pleasure that was quickly unraveling her. The boss fight on screen grew more intense, each phase of the battle requiring her utmost focus, but her concentration wavered with every flick of the vibrator against her clit. It was nearly impossible to think, let alone execute precise game mechanics, as the rabbit ears worked her over with merciless efficiency.

Sakura whispered to herself, “Y-You’ve got this, Sakura!” Her voice was strained, too high-pitched to mask her struggle, but she plastered on a wide smile for her audience. Her hands shook violently now as they moved across the keyboard, trying to keep up with the rapid pace of the game. Her pulse raced in sync with the toy, the pleasure mounting to unbearable levels.

The boss’s health bar ticked down in sync with her endurance, her every keystroke becoming sloppier, more frantic. As the final blow landed and the boss collapsed in defeat, Sakura could no longer hold back. Her body convulsed as the climax hit her like a tidal wave. A guttural shout escaped her lips as she slammed her hands down on the desk, her voice cracking with a blend of triumph and carnal release.

“YESSSS!!” she screamed, her eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving with the force of the orgasm that ripped through her. Her muscles clenched, and her toes curled as the vibrator continued its assault, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until she was utterly spent.

Her viewers erupted into cheers, congratulating her on the hard-earned victory. Oblivious to the real reason behind her breathlessness and the flush on her face, they celebrated her skill and persistence. The screen flashed with messages of admiration, and Sakura forced herself to sit up, her body trembling with the aftershocks.

“Whew… that was intense!” she gasped, wiping away the sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her hand reached for her water glass, her fingers still trembling slightly as she took a long, much-needed drink. “Thanks for cheering me on, guys,” she added with a weak laugh, masking the exhaustion coursing through her.

As Sakura leaned back in her chair, Scrolling through other games to hopefully find a good one to end the night, Y/N, who had been patiently watching her recovery, wasn’t quite done yet. A devilish grin played on his lips as he leaned forward, his finger hovering over the vibrator’s controls. Without warning, he cranked the toy up to its highest setting.

The sudden jolt of the vibrator sent Sakura reeling. Her body stiffened, eyes widening in shock as the intensity of the stimulation threatened to unravel her all over again. Her breath hitched in her throat as her muscles tensed, gripping the arms of her chair to ground herself. Y/N’s laughter echoed softly from beneath the desk, watching her fight the new wave of pleasure with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction.

Sakura, the ever-composed streamer, found herself on the precipice of a new kind of experience. The powerful vibrations of the new toy sent shivers through her body, a primal force that ignited a wildfire of anticipation within her. Her body responded with a raw, undeniable intensity, the moisture building until it seeped through her folds, dripping off the chair and leaving a glistening trail on the floor. The sweet scent of candles that once permeated the room was quickly overtaken by the pungent aroma of her arousal, a testament to the burgeoning passion that consumed her.

As the pleasure reached its crescendo, a surge of instinct took over. With lightning-fast reflexes, Sakura muted her microphone and switched off her camera, craving the sanctuary of privacy for the intimate storm that was about to break. The online world faded away, and she surrendered completely to the throes of ecstasy.

The timing was impeccable. As Sakura neared her peak, Y/N, her boyfriend, seized the moment. He seamlessly combined the pleasure of the vibrator with the intimacy of his mouth, diving forward with a ravenous hunger. His tongue explored the depths of her, savoring her taste and fueling the fire that burned within her. Each flick and swirl of his tongue sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through her body, pushing her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.

The combined sensations were too much for her to bear, and with an animalistic moan escaped Sakura's lips, a guttural sound intertwined with a scream that seemed to rise from the very core of her being. "UGH FUCK YEEESSSS Y/N!" Her voice was a raw expression of unrestrained pleasure. She grasped his hair, her body convulsing in a wave of ecstasy. Her legs lifted and wrapped around him pulling his face impossibly close to her core, her muscles contracting and relaxing with each tremor, the old gaming chair squeaking in protest with every movement. Her cheeks flushed a vibrant hue, a visible marker of her heightened state as she rode the wave of her orgasm with unbridled abandon, her breasts heaving with each ragged breath. Sakura climaxed with a force that left her breathless and trembling. Y/N continued his ministrations, prolonging her orgasm until she felt every ounce of pleasure.

For Y/N, the experience was both exhilarating and intensely intimate. He couldn't see anything; his vision was blocked by Sakura's body. Each subtle movement sent shivers down his spine—her soft skin felt warm and alive against him, her thighs encasing his head in a passionate vice that was as constricting as it was pleasurable. it was just the two of them, enveloped in a cocoon of heat and desire.

This was a Sakura he rarely saw, one that lay hidden behind the carefully curated persona of her online streams. In those moments, she had shed the facade of the cheerful, bubbly entertainer and revealed a side of herself that was raw and unfiltered. It was the Sakura from before her streaming career, the girl who had always been playful and spontaneous, exuding an authentic vulnerability that left him breathless. Her laughter echoed in the confines of his mind as he realized how seldom he’d had the chance to witness this intimate version of her.

The chaos of streaming and the demands of her audience faded into the background, replaced by a potent chemistry that crackled between them. His own heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drum echoing the urgency of the moment, while his breath hitched at the raw display of passion and surrender before him. Every heartbeat was a reminder of how deeply and irrevocably he craved this connection.

This moment carved a permanent mark on him, etching itself into his memory like a secret tattoo. It was a reminder of the beautiful, complex dynamics that fueled their relationship—beyond the streaming lights and scripted interactions lay a blend of affection, longing, and a hint of danger. Their souls intertwined in this rare instance, revealing as much about their hearts as it did about their desires. The very essence of their bond lay anchored in these fleeting but fervent exchanges, making each encounter a treasure and a risk he was willing to embrace.

Sakura's breath came in ragged gasps as she slowly released her hold on Y/N, her legs trembling, weak from the intense stimulation. The room seemed to amplify all her senses, the cooling sensation of sweat mingling with her skin a stark contrast to the recent heat. Her legs, barely able to support her, struggled to find their footing as she fought to regain her composure. The assistant to her pleasure, the formidable toy that had helped push her to the edge of chaotic bliss, lay on the floor, a glistening reminder of the storm that had just passed. Its surface, coated in her essence, served as a tangible testament to her unleashed passion.

Realizing that her momentary loss of control had severed her connection with her viewers, Sakura quickly attempted to regain her composure. Her cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. But before she could complete the act of resuming, Y/N’s steady hand came to rest against her thigh, gently halting her fidgeting. Kneeling between her legs, his tall frame allowing him to almost come face to face with her, their eyes meeting in a moment that felt both electric and profoundly intimate.

Sakura's mind swirled with a haze of emotions, a flicker of melancholy washing over her like a soft tide. She missed these moments—the brief interludes where they could shed their roles and embrace a deeper connection, where laughter and genuine emotion melded seamlessly into something more. Each stolen glance, every shared laugh had been a thread weaving them closer, and yet, amidst the chaos of their lives, she felt those threads fraying, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.

In that heavy silence, Y/N reached for her, his fingers warm as they gently cupped the back of her head. There was no need for words; his eyes spoke volumes, conveying understanding and longing in a single gaze. Then, with a tenderness that sent shivers down her spine, he leaned in and sealed their lips together in a passionate kiss. The flavors of her arousal mingled with saliva—a delicious, intoxicating symphony that danced on their tongues, each movement igniting a fire deep within her core.

Sakura was momentarily consumed by the warmth of his embrace, every worry dissolving into the sweet elixir of their connection. But as the kiss lingered, her heart raced at the thought of what lay beyond this moment. Still lost in the afterglow, Sakura whimpered softly when Y/N finally pulled away, his lips brushing against hers gently as they parted. His gaze held her captive, a silent promise lingering in the space between them, but it only deepened her desire, leaving her craving more.

This was the testament to their bond—a connection that blossomed amidst the chaos of her storm, a lingering whisper of hope amid uncertainty. She knew she couldn’t let this slip through her fingers again, not when they had ventured into a territory that felt so beautifully raw and undeniably real.

But as the seasoned entertainer she was, she corrected her streaming gadget, turning her webcam back on and adjusting her microphone. Her face, still flushed from her recent exertion and her lips swollen, was now contorted into an apologetic smile as she addressed her audience, hiding the true reason behind her sudden departure by blaming it on unpredictable internet issues.

"Sorry about that, guys," she panted, her voice slightly uneven with the remnants of her peak. "We had a little technical glitch," she continued, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous hint that was not quite caught by her virtual audience.

The chat, a flurry of messages, was filled with questions and mild irritation. Her viewers were curious, their previous excitement now shifted to suspicion and a growing sense of doubt . They wondered what had caused such a sudden disruption. Yet, despite their curiosity, they respected her privacy, unwilling to push for explanations that she was not willing to give until she was ready. In their minds, the truth of her interruptions could often be their most decadent fantasies, creating an air of mystique and allure around her that kept them coming back for more. Sakura, a master of her craft, knew how to keep her audience hooked, turning even a glitch into a potential performance enhancement, as her viewers' imaginations filled in the blanks left by their sudden disconnection.

Y/N, with an air of mystery swirling about him, gracefully emerged from under the desk, his presence suddenly filling the room with an electric energy. As if appearing from the shadows, he moved with a fluidity that captivated Sakura, drawing her gaze irresistibly. From his vantage point behind the monitor, Y/N's eyes met Sakura's, a hint of mischief dancing in their depths.

His movements were deliberate, with a rhythm that matched the beating of Sakura's heart, as if he were conducting an intimate dance where only the two of them could hear the music. The fact that he planned this whole thing gave Sakura a warm feeling. The remnants of their shared passion became a declaration of love, a promise of intimacy, and a reaffirmation of their bond.

Satisfied with his thorough work, Y/N offered Sakura a look, his eyes darting back and forth from Sakura and a bag that was placed just to the side. A secretive smile playing upon his lips. It was a silent challenge, an invitation for Sakura to join him in their next adventure. Turning away, he walked calmly towards the bedroom.

As he cleaned the toys and meticulously arranged them in their new resting place, the nightstand, Y/N took the time to appreciate the small details of their shared space. The nightstand, once merely a piece of furniture with no purpose, now held a whole new meaning, a symbol of their intimate connection.

Sakura remained seated, her breath catching in her throat as Y/N disappeared into the shadows of the bedroom. The atmosphere lingered with a charged energy, the room still humming from the intensity of their shared moment. Sakura’s mind raced, replaying the image of Y/N’s mischievous smile, his teasing, deliberate movements, and the unspoken promise that hung in the air like a secret waiting to be unraveled.

For a moment, Sakura sat frozen, the temptation pulling her forward. She felt a surge of warmth radiate through her, a tug towards the bedroom where Y/N awaited, his presence as enticing as ever. The weight of their connection, unspoken but deeply understood, anchored her as she ended the stream and rose from her seat.

Sakura’s eyes fell to the bag on the floor, under the coffee table, its presence both familiar and intriguing. She had seen Y/n walk in with it  earlier but hadn’t given it much thought in the midst of her stream. Now, as the evening light dimmed into twilight and the apartment grew quieter, curiosity took over. Slowly, she bent down, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric of the bag as she picked it up. It was a simple gesture, yet it sent a ripple of anticipation through her. 

Peeling back the wrapping, her breath caught when her eyes landed on the contents. A stunning set of lingerie lay folded neatly inside, the color immediately striking her—her favorite color. The rich, silky fabric shimmered slightly in the low light, delicate lace tracing intricate patterns along its edges. She lifted it out of the bag, feeling the cool smoothness of the material slip between her fingers. The fabric felt luxurious, softer than she imagined, and as she held it up, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Y/N had remembered.

In the whirlwind of their lives, it wasn’t often that someone paid attention to the small details, but Y/N always had a way of doing just that. Not just any lingerie, but a set that spoke to her tastes, a color that made her feel powerful, beautiful, sexy. The care and thoughtfulness behind it warmed her from the inside, the kind of warmth that settled deep, in the quiet places of the heart.

Sakura didn't waste time, a surge of excitement bubbling up inside her. Without even heading to the bathroom, she began to undress right there in the middle of the living room. Her body was sore, every muscle aching from the games “levels”, but the thrill of the moment outweighed the discomfort. She moved slowly, peeling away the layers of her clothing, and as each piece fell to the floor, she felt lighter. Her breath hitched when the cool air of the room brushed against her bare skin.

Pulling the lingerie up over her legs, she marveled at how perfectly it fit, as if it had been crafted just for her. The lace clung to her curves in all the right places, accentuating her figure in a way that made her feel both strong and undeniably feminine. She caught a glimpse of herself in the nearby mirror and paused for a moment. The reflection staring back at her was striking—she looked lovely and powerful. The fatigue that had settled into her bones seemed to dissipate, replaced by an invigorating energy, one that thrummed beneath her skin like a quiet storm ready to break.

Her gaze shifted from the mirror to the slightly ajar bedroom door, and that’s when she felt it. The pull. It was almost magnetic, an invisible force drawing her toward Y/N. There had always been something between them ever since they met, something more than words or physical attraction. It was an unspoken connection, a shared intimacy that went beyond the surface of things. Y/N had a way of turning even the smallest gestures into something profound. A simple gift of lingerie wasn’t just a gift; it was a conversation, an invitation, a reminder of the bond they shared.

Sakura’s heart raced as she stood at the threshold of the bedroom, her hand resting lightly on the doorframe. From where she stood, she could see Y/N’s silhouette bathed in the soft, golden glow of the bedside lamp. The room itself was dim, quiet, filled with the gentle hum of the night outside. Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, focused. There was a look in his gaze—one that she knew well. Mischief, affection, desire, all wrapped into one.

Her breath caught again, but this time it wasn’t the cold air or the tightness of the lingerie. It was the way Y/N looked at her. As if she were the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment. As if the night was theirs and theirs alone.

Without breaking eye contact, Sakura stepped inside the room, her bare feet soundless against the wooden floor. The door clicked shut behind her, the soft sound echoing in the quiet. It was as if the outside world ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them in the cocoon of their own making. The air between them was thick with anticipation, with the unspoken promise of what was to come.

Y/N didn’t move, didn’t say a word. His gaze traveled over her slowly, taking in the sight of her standing before him in the delicate lace and silk he had chosen. The corner of his mouth lifted in a small, appreciative smile, but there was something deeper in his eyes—a smoldering intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

She moved closer, the space between them shrinking with every step. Her own breathing had become shallow, her pulse quickening in response to the heat building between them. It wasn’t just about the physical desire; it was the emotional weight of everything they had shared, everything they had been through together, all condensed into this one, intimate moment.

Sakura reached the edge of the bed, standing just before him, her body illuminated by the soft, golden light. Y/N reached out, his hand gently grazing her thigh, his fingers brushing over the delicate lace. His touch was light, teasing, sending a shiver up her spine. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation, the feeling of his skin against hers.

He had given her so much today, endless pleasures each one more intense than the last. But now, as she stood before him, she knew the time had come, it was his turn. She smiled, slow and teasing, as her fingers toyed with the straps of the lingerie. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear, her voice a soft whisper filled with promise.

"You’ve given me so many gifts today baby. Now it’s your turn to unwrap your present." 

She gave him multiple kisses from his neck to his cheek, ending with a needy one on his lips.

“Since you're so into games, let's play one right now,” her words mimicking those that started this whole thing.

The night had just begun, filled with endless possibilities Sakura's situation mirrored her favorite games. She had failed multiple times but knew that this was a fresh start, an extra life, With a smile she positioned herself face to face with his crotch and pulled down Y/N's pants exposing his member, she gave the tip a quick kiss and lick, before reminding him that singing was not the only thing her mouth was used for.

Miyawaki Sakura was back on level one.

[greengoblinswifey]

can we get a fic where Luigi is stressed after a long day in his college classes and his gf gives him a blow job to help him relax? 👀 in excruciating detail puhleeeeze 😩

Helping Luigi out after a stressful day of classes.

Luigi sighed as he dropped his bag onto the couch, like he was trying to let go of the weight of the day. His dark, curly hair was slightly messy, a sure sign that he had been running his fingers through it in frustration, and his thick brows were still furrowed as he exhaled sharply.

You leaned against the doorway, watching him. “Long day?”

“Brutal. My professors are insane, my group project is a disaster, no one’s pulling their weight, and I swear if I have to listen to one more pointless lecture—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “You don’t wanna hear all that.”

You pushed off the doorframe, making your way over to him. “I don’t mind listening,” you murmured, placing your hands on his shoulders. “But, I can think of a much better way to help you relax.”

“Oh?” he said, his dark eyes flickering to yours, curiosity sparking beneath his exhaustion.

Your fingers went down his chest, smoothing over his pecs then his abs. “Mhm,” you hummed, tilting your head slightly as you gave him a coy smile. “You work so hard, baby. You deserve a little something.”

His breath hitched just slightly, and you could feel his muscles tense beneath your touch. “What exactly are you suggesting?” he asked, his voice going lower, raspier.

You smirked, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before letting your hands slide lower. “Why don’t you just sit back and relax,” you whispered. “Let me take care of you, baby.”

Luigi swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared at you. Your hands went even lower, slipping into his boxers and taking ahold of his hard, thick cock. No matter how many times you had it in your palm, you just couldn’t get enough. m

You grinned, nudging him back until he sank onto the couch before sinking gracefully to your knees between his legs.

His head fell back against the cushions, a deep, contented moan slipping past his lips. One of his hands found its way into your curls. “You’re amazing,” he murmured.

He was so big in your hand, his vein prominent and pre cum leaking from the pink, mushroom tip. With your gaze doe eyed and needy, you stuck your ass out and slowly took his cock in your mouth. You hummed as he stretched your lips, vibrations spreading throughout his body. “Fuck,” he moaned, already getting lost in the pleasure.

You took him deeper, swirling your tongue as you did and using your hands to caress his balls that were heavy with cum until the tip hit the back of your throat.

Luigi’s hands went to the cushions, gripping as if grounding himself. “You’re such a good fucking cock sucker. Keep going,” he groaned.

Teasingly, you removed him from your mouth, running your lips along the shaft then replacing it with your tongue. You were a sloppy mess, salvia and pre cum dripping down your chin, eyes dazed and lust blown. “Mm, I love how you taste,” you praised, before taking him down your throat.

As you bobbed your head at a steady pace, his fingers tangled in your curls firmly but gently, thrusting up into your mouth. Your cheeks hollowed, and you ran your hands along his thigh caressing him. “God, this fucking mouth. You’re such a good girl helping me relax.”

He pulled you by your hair off him with a pop, a trail of saliva connecting you. He took himself in his free hand, slapping his cock against your cheek and your lips. “So pretty, baby,” he cooed. “My good little cock sucker.”

He dragged the shaft across your lips then lodged it between them, sliding back and forth as his moans grew louder.

“Holy shit. Open wide, baby. My dick needs to be back down that throat.”

You did as you were told and took him right back, your movements increasing, precise and deliberate. His hips bucked, balls tightening as your mouth was on the verge of tipping him over the edge.

He met your mouth with thrusts, each making you gag as your tongue slid across his throbbing length. “You’re really helping me relax, sweetheart. I wanna cum down your throat so bad.”

His resolve snapped as his hand guided you all the way down onto him until your nose touched his pelvis. You felt his control waver, his head tilting back as a deep, guttural sound escaped him. His fingers were tighter in your curls, pulling you up and down his long, thick shaft fast, as the sound of gagging and spit filled the room like you were nothing but a throat for him to use.

“God, you’re incredible,” he groaned, his voice breaking into praises as his grip tightened. “My perfect fucking girl.”

You slapped his dick on your tongue before taking him in once more, the throbbing unmistakeable. “C-cum in my mouth,” you begged him, your voice desperate and shaking. He relented with a deep moan, his praise spilling out.

“You’re so, so perfect, baby. Take my cum,” he gasped, as ropes of his hot load shot down your throat.

You swallowed every drop and looked up at him, ass in the air with lust blown eyes, sticking your tongue out to show that nothing had gone to waste.

Luigi’s head fell back against the couch, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. His fingers were still tangled in your curls, holding onto you like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

You smirked up at him, pressing one last kiss to his tip before shifting up to settle between his legs. He reached for you, pulling you into his lap and capturing your lips in a slow kiss. His fingers brushed over your cheek, as he deepened it, his tongue sliding against yours as he tasted himself in a way that had you melting into him.

When he finally pulled back, he let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “You’re unreal, amore,” he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “The best girlfriend anyone could ever ask for.”

Before you could respond, he dipped his head down, pressing a series of soft, grateful kisses along your jaw. “Thank you for this,” he whispered against your skin. “For taking care of me.”

You hummed, running your fingers through his thick curls, watching as his eyes fluttered shut at your touch. “Of course, baby,” you murmured. “You deserve to relax.”

Luigi exhaled deeply, his body sinking against yours. You guided him to lie back, letting him rest his head against your tits as your fingers combed through his curls in slow, soothing strokes. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close, his body completely at ease now.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Lu.”

[titania-sleeps]

Woman nutting in man is the only way. We should be like the seahorses. Only then will we reach nirvana

First Rut (Sub!Omega!Yandere x Alpha!Reader)

truly wise words, anon. i would have to heavily agree with you and thus,,, presenting,,, your first rut w adonis where you fuck him crazy and he enjoys it

one Adonis fic down, one more to go!

more works featuring Adonis: Adonis Introduction, Adonis Rides You, Adonis First Heat

warning: nsfw, dom reader, omegaverse, horny af manwhore omega, blowjob, kinda public sex, reader has dick (GN), minors DNI pls

Fuck. The time has come, hasn't it.

You close your eyes and lean against the hallway as the bustling crowd of students passes you. Dragging yourself by the feet, you trudge your way to hide under the staircase. The dingy area is just enough to curb the strongest of your desires, but there is still a gnawing feeling in you that needs to bite, tear, and consume.

It's only two in the afternoon, but you fetch your phone and send a quick text. Turning your phone off, you slide down the wall, not caring as the rugged edges of the wall snag against your neat uniform.

No more than five minutes pass when you hear quickening steps come your way. A sharp turn around the corner and a form that you're very familiar with emerges from the shadows. With a pretty blush on his face and his eyes wide like a doe, Adonis stands there nervously.

"You, uh, called for me," he breathes, his hands clutching the fraying edges of his sweater.

The sweet scent of roses and lemons attacks your senses, and your nails dig into your palm until it's bleeding. Why did you call him over again?

He seems to notice your state of struggle, so he runs to you, his hand on your shoulder as he brings his forehead to touch yours. It's your responsibility to contain yourself, but it's his mistake to get so close to you. Your hand sneaks around and wraps itself around the nape of his neck, bringing him closer.

"I'm burning," you whisper into his pink-tipped ears. His face erupts into a bright red and he stammers that he'll help you, that you can use him to calm down.

You push him away roughly, locking your arms to your side. You're breathing heavily, your vision growing hazy. You look up and he looks hurt, a worried frown on his usually bright countenance.

"Sorry... I"—God, he looks so cute—"didn't mean to...." Your weak apology brings out an immediate sigh of relief from Adonis. He kneels next to you, his hand placed over yours.

You groan, sending him a particularly piercing gaze. Your gaze burns into him, and you're holding yourself back with everything that you have. He stiffens in response, but his hand remains on yours.

"Class ends in an hour," he begins, his eyes flitting about anxiously, "so if you, um, need help..."

His offer hangs in the air, his clammy hand still laying gently over your own.

You don't need to think. You don't hesitate, because if you do, you might end up regretting what you're about to do. Instead, you submit to your instincts and you drag him down with you, your partner in crime.

Your mouth is on his in an instant, your teeth biting into his bottom lip. His lips part from his gasp, and you slip your tongue in, your free hand trailing under his shirt. Your nail scratches his toned stomach, and he moans into your kiss. You drag your nail down at a lazy pace, and your hand meets the tip of his bulge, straining against his pants.

He detaches from you, panic floating in his eyes. "W-wait, we're still at school—" You grab him by the tie, shutting him up with another messy kiss. He's protesting but you flip him so that he's the one against the wall, your hand placed next to his head on the wall.

"Be a good boy," you mumble in between kisses to his jaw and neck. His protests sputter out, replaced by quiet moans and tiny gasps. He's clutching the collar of your shirt tightly, but he doesn't push you away.

You lick the side of his neck, pressing a kiss onto it. "Very good," you praise. You hear him whisper a shy thank you, and you reward him with a kiss to his collarbone.

Your continued kisses have him gasping for more, but you stop abruptly. He whines, begging for you to keep going, but you have a better idea.

Only a second passes when his face is suddenly met with your cock, hard and red. You grin as his eyes widen like saucers, the blatant lust blossoming on his countenance. He's immediately subdued by the scent of it, his mouth opening subconsciously.

"Suck."

A single word is all he needs.

Adonis starts at your tip, lips brushing gently against you. Inspired by you, perhaps, he stamps small kisses down your entire length. Then he drags his tongue from your base, trailing along the underside of your cock, stopping only when he reaches the tip again. Opening his mouth, he takes you in.

You're melting into the warmth of his mouth, his tongue swirling around your sensitive spots, in a manner that is so intimately familiar with you. His dick is still bulging in his pants, begging to be released.

When he opens his eyes to gaze upon your form, his glance is hazy. He pushes his head down your length, your cock hitting the back of his throat. Adonis grimaces and he flinches, but he remains there, letting his throat do the work. He's gagging on you, and you're so close, but you grab him by his hair and pull your dick out.

"Why?" he whines, mouth opening instinctively, ready to take you in again.

You don't respond, and instead, you lift him up. Surprised, he wraps his arms around you.

"What are you doing—" His lips are met with yours again, and you slip his pants off with a quick flick of your fingers. He gasps into your kiss, but his arms around your neck tighten as he brings you even closer to him.

Adonis's cock leaks precum, dripping onto your shirt. Ignoring it, you push him against the wall, holding him up with one arm and using the other to align your cock to his hole. He moans softly, your tip grazing against his opening. Without warning, you slip your whole length in. It goes in without much resistance, and he's grabbing onto you desperately, face buried in the crevice of your neck.

You thrust up into him roughly, both your arms bracing him against the wall. His legs and arms wrap around your torso tightly as he moans into your neck.

"Fuck, you're so tight around me," you mutter. You shove as much of your cock into him as you can, angling it so it hits his prostate. His insides tighten, embracing your length in waves of convulsions.

"Ah ♡... [Y/N] ♡...!" He calls out your name, body quivering as you fuck up into him with reckless abandon. Every thrust is met with a wet moan and a little bit more of his precum trickling out. He's clinging onto you for dear life, a shaky grin dancing on his lips as his tongue hangs loosely.

You breathe into his neck, dragging your tongue along his neck. Your teeth graze his skin, leaving a burning trail of need on its way. He shudders, choked moans escaping from his throat as his eyes roll up in pleasure. You groan, feeling him spasm around your dick as both you and Adonis approach your limits.

"Bite me ♡," he whimpers into your ear, his breath hot. Your hips stutter, thrown off-guard by his plea; a flame unquelled in you roaring into its full life as your guarded desire is aided by the gas he spills.

But you reel yourself back, deciding to fuck him to oblivion so that he forgets. You can't bite him now; he'll be chained to you forever. And more importantly, you can't imagine doing that to the one person who seems to trust you above all else.

So instead, you lick his neck and give to him small, reassuring kisses. If he wishes for you to bite him in the future, you don't think you'll be able to hold yourself back. For the time being, though, you calm the knot that is forming at the base of your cock and thrust wildly into Adonis. Tears stream down his face as he moans your name over and over again; he speaks only your name and you are all that he sees.

"Please," he begs, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck, "please, please, b-bite me, I can't handle it anymore! ♡"

You bite your tongue, stopping yourself. "Be quiet," you whisper to him, increasing the pace. He obeys surprisingly well, swallowing and muffling his noises.

However, he isn't able to hold it in for long.

"I-I'm close, I wanna cum with you, I want you to mark me! ♡" he exclaims, kissing the corner of your lips. His hands scratch against your back, leaving marks to remind you of this day. Adonis's insides clench, and you shove it deep inside of him, head spinning as you release your thick seed into him.

"Bite me now, please, bite me right now!" he cries, face bright red and dick equally as red.

You don't listen to him and he has no choice but to cum at that very moment, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure of being filled. He wiggles in your grasp, nails digging into your back as his dick shoots out white ropes of cum.

His breathing comes out in quivering gasps, but he finds the strength to send you a reassuring smile anyway. He clings onto you, allowing you to lower him onto his feet slowly. Very kind of him, indeed, yet you're still aching for a bit more.

"Uh, do you want to... come over tonight?" Adonis asks, a pretty flush on his face. "Of course, if you don't want to, that's okay too, I know you're busy and—"

You lean in, caging him with one arm. He blushes, closing his eyes. Chuckling, you give him a flick to his forehead.

"Yeah, I'll be there tonight."

He opens his eyes, palm on his forehead, his pants still on the floor. A lovestruck grin is plastered ever-so lovingly on his lips.

not my best work. it only goes up from here?

-> masterlist

[wholoveseggs]

Stains {Part One}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part One

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} One spilled coffee, one ruined suit, and one infuriating man you can’t seem to avoid...

♡♡ Uh oh I wrote another series! Inspired by the many requests I get for another enemies to lovers fic ~ This is essentially a highly caffeinated version of Misbehavior ~xoxo ♡♡

3.7k words - Warnings: slow burn, enemies-to-lovers, eventual smut (duh), Elijah being Elijah about his suits, reader with a sharp tongue and a penchant for swearing, so so so much antagonistic banter, class dynamics, Elijah being a control freak (it’s his kink) && the tragic loss of a cappuccino...

{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}

@starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore @theotherworld97

@origshipfan @cocoabliss @eternalnoble

It was one of those mornings where everything felt hazy, like your body was running on autopilot while your brain lagged behind. You were going through the motions, getting ready for work, but it all felt distant.  

Finally, as you stood in line at the local café, you began to wake up fully. Glancing at your phone, you checked the time. You were cutting it close, but if you hurried, you could still make it.  

When it was your turn, you stepped up to the counter and ordered your usual. While waiting, you observed the morning rush: people in business suits, jeans, or workout gear shuffled in and out, the chaos oddly comforting. You tried to keep your irritation in check as a few impatient customers jostled their way ahead of you.  

At last, you grabbed your cappuccino and headed out the door, your eyes flicking to the clock on your phone again. Damn, you were going to be late.  

You picked up your pace, speed-walking down the sidewalk. Cursing under your breath, you glanced back down at your phone… just as you collided with someone.  

Hot liquid splashed everywhere, soaking through your shirt and bra. You hissed in pain, looking up to find the man you'd crashed into. His suit jacket and dress shirt were also drenched in coffee.  

He glared at you, his dark eyes murderous. He didn't say a word as he yanked off his jacket and attempted to blot at the stain, which only seemed to spread.  

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” you blurted, fumbling to pull out your wallet. “Here, let me pay for your dry cleaning. I’m really sorry.”  

You went to pull out some cash, but he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Dry cleaning? No. You will pay for a replacement," he said with cold disdain.  

His attitude pissed you off. He was just as much at fault as you were, yet he had this entitled, pretentious air about him that made your blood boil.  

“It’s just coffee. It’ll come out with the right cleaner,” you said, trying to keep the bite out of your voice.  

“It’s a custom-tailored vintage Italian wool suit. Do you have any idea how much it costs?” he asked, his jaw ticking as he glared at you.  

“Well, maybe you should pay more attention to where you’re walking if you’re going to parade around in such expensive clothes,” you snapped, your temper slipping.  

“Are you seriously standing there, telling me this is my fault?” he asked, his eyebrows rising in disbelief.  

“Yup. Because it is,” you shot back, crossing your arms as you met his icy gaze. “I’m not about to buy you a thousand-dollar suit when dry cleaning can fix it.”  

“A thousand?” he repeated, laughing, and to your surprise, the sound was annoyingly pleasant. “This is a Brioni, not some off-the-rack garbage from Nordstrom. And I expect full payment. Interest included.”  

“Oh, fuck off,” you snapped, throwing up your hands in frustration. Turning on your heel, you stomped away, your blood still boiling.  

You had no idea what a Brioni was, and frankly, you didn’t care. He wasn’t going to bully you into paying for a ridiculously overpriced suit. You couldn’t even afford the cheap ones. And besides, what was he going to do? He didn’t even know who you were.  

You didn’t hear his footsteps behind you, but suddenly, he was in front of you, blocking your path.  

“I’m not done talking to you,” he said, his tone cutting through the air like ice.  

“Yeah, well, I’m done talking to you. Get the hell out of my way,” you snapped, trying to sidestep him.  

His hand shot out, grabbing your arm and holding you in place. You were about to slap him when his free hand darted into your pocket, pulling out your wallet.  

“Hey! What the fuck?” you yelled, trying to snatch it back.  

Ignoring you, he opened it and rifled through your cards and cash with infuriating calmness. He pulled out your driver’s license, glancing at it, and you could have sworn he smirked.  

“So, Miss L/N, I’ll be in touch. And perhaps you should pay attention to where you’re walking. You never know who you might bump into,” he said, his voice full of smug amusement as he slipped your wallet back into your pocket.  

Before you could respond, he turned and strode off down the street, leaving you standing there, fuming.  

You sat at your desk, staring blankly at the screen, willing yourself not to think about the events from earlier. But no matter how hard you tried, your mind kept circling back. You couldn’t believe his fucking audacity.

The way he’d just grabbed your wallet out of your pocket… like it was nothing, and then had the nerve to smirk at you. The memory made your blood boil all over again. You were livid.

It was obvious he was wealthy, the kind of man who was used to getting whatever he wanted. But you weren’t about to be bullied by some rich asshole. You couldn't stand people like him, entitled, out of touch assholes.

But… lord, was he hot.

Your thoughts betrayed you, conjuring up his sharp cheekbones, chiseled jaw, and those dark brown eyes that seemed to smolder even when he was furious. He exuded danger. The kind that drew you in, whether you wanted it to or not.

For a moment, your mind wandered, imagining what it would feel like to run your hands through his hair, tugging at it as he…

No. No.

You shook your head, physically trying to jolt yourself back to reality. You weren’t about to let your thoughts go there. He didn’t deserve a second more of your time.

After work, you were exhausted, and all you wanted was to curl up on the couch and watch something mindless. As you walked down the hall to your apartment, the sight of an envelope sticking out of the door made you frown.

You approached it slowly, pulling it from the door and turning it over.

The handwriting on the front was neat and tidy. The letter itself was a single piece of paper, folded in half. Your name was scrawled on the front.

Hesitating, you unlocked the door and walked into your apartment. It was small, barely enough space for you, but it was the only place you could afford.

Closing the door behind you, you opened the letter.

Miss L/N, I trust you found this note where I left it. Please see the enclosed invoice for the cost of replacing my suit. If I do not receive a response within five business days, I will have no choice but to involve my lawyers. Sincerely, Elijah Mikaelson

There was a paper inside, folded in half. Pulling it out, you found the bill:

Invoice: Total cost of suit and emotional damages: $20,325.00

What the fuck?

The number at the bottom made you want to vomit. How the fuck could a suit cost that much?

There was no way in hell you could come up with that kind of money. If he tried to sue you there was no way you would be able to pay it.

Fuck. Fuck.

You stared down at the invoice, panic starting to build. His phone number was listed at the top, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you dialed the number, your heart hammering in your chest.

After two rings, a deep, infuriatingly familiar voice answered.

"Miss L/N, I was beginning to wonder if you'd gotten my note," he said, sounding amused.

"You can't be serious. That suit cannot cost that much," you snapped, trying and failing to keep the fear out of your voice.

"As a matter of fact, it can. You should feel lucky I'm not asking for more, considering the insult to my character. Or do I need to remind you of how you behaved?" he asked, his tone dripping with arrogance.

"How much emotional damage could a spilled cup of coffee possibly cause?" you scoffed, unable to stop yourself. "I'm not paying that. No way."

"Well, unfortunately, the suit is ruined. My dry cleaner tried his best, but it was simply too late," he said, his words clipped and precise. "Now, we can settle this between us. Or I can call my lawyer, and the two of us can hash out a deal in court."

"What the hell do you want from me?" you asked, unable to keep the anger and hurt out of your voice. "You think I have a couple grand lying around? I can't even afford my rent, much less a suit that's worth more than I'll make in the next year!"

"Then I suggest you get a better job," he replied, his tone dismissive. "I have no interest in playing games with you. Either pay what you owe, or face the consequences."

"Go fuck yourself," you hissed, hanging up and slamming the phone down on the table.

He couldn't be serious. There was no way. He was a sadist, clearly. Just an entitled, privileged prick, and you had no doubt he would go through with his threat.

Your phone started to ring, and you glared at it, tempted to ignore it. But you knew that would only make things worse.

With a sigh, you picked up the phone, answering it and pressing it to your ear. "What?"

"Well, that was rude," he said, his voice cold.

"Yeah, well, so is threatening me," you shot back.

"You're being unreasonable," he said, his tone infuriatingly calm. "We can settle this like adults. If you can't afford the suit, perhaps there's another way we can work out our differences."

"If you're trying to blackmail me into having sex with you, fuck off. I'm not a hooker," you snapped.

He laughed, and the sound made you shiver, even as it enraged you. "Hardly darling, I don't pay for sex,"

"Then what the fuck do you want?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

"An apology," he said, and there was something dangerous in his voice, a hint of a threat.

"Fine," you said, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry. Now, leave me the hell alone."

"No, I want an apology in person, perhaps over dinner. After all, we never had a chance to get properly acquainted," he said, his voice smooth.

"That wasn't part of the deal," you hissed. "You said an apology, not a date."

"Are you trying to negotiate terms with me?" he asked, his tone amused. "Because I'm not sure that's wise. After all, if we go to court, I'll win. I have excellent lawyers."

"Are you seriously going to sue me over a stupid suit?" you asked, the anger in your voice fading, replaced by fear.

"That depends. Are you going to refuse my request?" he asked, his voice soft, yet firm.

You hesitated, weighing your options. On one hand, you could try to stand up to him. But there was no doubt in your mind that you would lose a court battle… you did damage his suit after all.

"Fine," you said, the word leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

"Excellent. I'll pick you up tomorrow at seven," he said, sounding satisfied.

Before you could respond, the line went dead.

You stared at your phone, furious. This wasn’t an apology; it was a trap. But what choice did you have? You’d give him his stupid apology…and then, hopefully, you’d never have to see him again.

At first you decided you were just going to wear a sweatshirt and leggings. Let him deal with it. You weren’t about to put the effort in. But a small voice inside told you that it would only make things worse. Besides, if there was any chance this would be the last time you had to see him, maybe you should look good. Show him that you weren't some charity case.

With a sigh, you put on the nicest dress you had, a simple black shift. You spent some time doing your hair and makeup, and as you stared at yourself in the mirror, you felt a flicker of pride.

You could do this.

As you finished getting ready, you wondered if he was going to show up in another ridiculously expensive suit. Probably. It seemed like his entire identity was tied up in his clothing. A small, diabolical part of you considered ruining another one of his suits, just to spite him. But you dismissed the idea. It wasn't worth the cost.

Just as you finished slipping on your heels, the buzzer rang. Grabbing your purse, you headed down the stairs, taking a deep breath as you pulled open the front door.

There, waiting for you, was Elijah, looking infuriatingly handsome. He wasn't dressed in a suit this time, in fact what he was wearing was much less formal, and a lot sexier. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans, and a dark blue shirt, the top two buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Was he aware of how ridiculously hot he was? Of course he knew... A man with all that wealth and confidence wouldn't have a doubt in his mind that women would fall at his feet.

"Hello, darling," he said, a hint of a smirk on his lips as he gazed down at you. "You look lovely."

"Don't," you said, holding up a finger and glaring at him. "I'm not your 'darling' and you don't get to call me that."

He chuckled, the sound making your skin prickle with heat. "Very well, shall we?"

He offered you his arm, and against your better judgement, you took it, allowing him to lead you to his car. You were surprised when he opened the passenger side door for you, but didn't comment, sliding into the seat.

"I expected you to be wearing another suit," you commented, trying to keep the bitterness out of your voice. "After all, they're such a large part of your personality."

He looked over at you, his gaze moving down your body, taking in the curves of your breasts and hips, lingering on your legs.

"And I wasn't expecting a dress, but here we are," he said, his eyes meeting yours, the challenge in them clear.

"You're insufferable," you muttered, turning to look out the window, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"I could say the same about you," he replied, his tone amused. "Though, I will admit, I admire your spirit."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" you asked, your brows furrowing.

"Yes, it is," he said, keeping his gaze on the road.

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"A little restaurant not far from here," he said, not elaborating further.

You were tempted to ask him more, but you didn't want to seem overly interested. You were still trying to figure out his motives, but you didn't want him to think he was winning.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence, and soon, he was pulling into a parking spot. He came around to open the door for you, and you ignored his hand, standing on your own.

You followed him into the restaurant, a quaint, homey place with dim lighting and candles on the tables. The waiter seated you, handing each of you a menu and taking your drink orders.

When he walked away, you turned your attention back to Elijah, studying his face in the low light. His features were strong, defined, and there was something oddly compelling about his eyes, the way they seemed to see right through you.

"So, what's your story?" you asked, breaking the silence. "What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a philanthropist," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "I invest in various causes, and also provide grants to those in need."

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "Of course you are,"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" he asked, a slight edge to his voice.

"You just scream old money, the kind of guy who's never had to work a day in his life, never had to struggle," you said, not bothering to mask the disdain in your voice.

He arched an eyebrow, his lips twitching up into a half-smile. "You're quite judgmental, aren't you?"

"Says the man who's trying to extort money from me," you retorted, your temper flaring.

"Sweetheart, you don't know anything about me or my struggles," he said, his tone deceptively calm. "I think it's best if you keep your opinions to yourself."

You glared at him, your jaw clenching. You wanted to fire back, tell him he was wrong, but a small, logical part of you warned against it.

"Fine," you muttered, crossing your arms. "I'm sorry...again."

"Apology accepted," he said, his expression smug.

Before you could respond, the waiter returned with your drinks.

"Are you two ready to order?" he asked, giving you both a polite smile.

"Yes, I'll have the steak," Elijah said, handing the menu back. "And she will have the pasta."

Your eyes narrowed at him. "No, actually, I'd like the salad,"

"Nonsense," he said, dismissing your objection with a wave of his hand. "Trust me, you'll like the pasta better."

The waiter nodded and collected your menus, leaving you alone once again.

"Did I say I wanted pasta?" you asked, irritated by his high-handedness.

"It's delicious, you'll see," he said, ignoring your question.

"So, is this how it's going to be all night? You making decisions for me, and me being pissed about it?" you asked, trying and failing to keep the frustration out of your voice.

He let out a soft chuckle, his dark eyes meeting yours. "Probably, yes."

You shook your head, biting back a scathing retort. Clearly, he enjoyed being an asshole. And you were determined not to give him the satisfaction of provoking you.

He was watching you closely, a smug smile on his lips. "So what do you do for work?"

"I'm a planning coordinator at a nonprofit," you said, your voice tight.

"That's interesting, what is the organization?" he asked, seeming genuinely curious.

"It's an outreach program for the homeless, I manage all the paperwork and the grant applications, that kind of stuff," you said, shrugging.

"How noble," he murmured, his gaze assessing.

You weren't sure if he was being sincere or not, and the comment rubbed you the wrong way.

"It's just a job," you muttered, not wanting to admit that it was something that mattered deeply to you.

"That makes you very little money, apparently," he said, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

"Well, not everyone can be a rich philanthropist," you shot back, your temper flaring.

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Fair point."

"Why are you really doing this?" you asked, unable to hold back the question.

"Doing what?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Blackmailing me into going on a date with you," you said, narrowing your eyes.

"You seem to have a lot of misconceptions about me," he said, his tone amused. "For starters, this isn't a date. It's an apology dinner."

You snorted, shaking your head. "Yeah, right. I've already apologized multiple times. Why did you really want to meet me?"

"You intrigue me," he said, his expression unreadable.

You were about to respond when the waiter returned, placing your meals in front of you.

"Here you go, enjoy," the waiter said, giving you a quick smile before heading off to another table.

You stared down at the pasta, it looked absolutely delicious, but you weren't about to admit that. You took a tentative bite, trying to hide your enjoyment, but it was no use. The pasta was amazing.

"Told you," he said, a knowing smile on his face.

"I'm not admitting anything," you muttered, taking another bite.

"Of course not," he said, his tone laced with amusement.

As you ate, you stole glances at him, trying to figure him out. He was a puzzle, that much was certain. But there was something dangerous lurking beneath the surface, a darkness that set your nerves on edge.

You were halfway through the meal when he spoke again.

"So, tell me more about yourself," he said, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

"What do you want to know?" you asked, keeping your voice casual.

"Anything," he replied, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You considered his question for a moment before responding. "I work, I go home, that's pretty much it."

He gave you a look, one that said he wasn't satisfied with your answer. "That's all? There must be more to you than that."

"Nope," you said, popping the 'p' for emphasis.

"I see," he said, his expression giving nothing away.

"What about you? I know you're a rich asshole who is obsessed with their clothing and extorts money from innocent people, but other than that, not much," you said, a hint of a smile on your lips.

"You think you have me all figured out, don't you?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

"Pretty much, yeah," you said, shrugging.

He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "What would you say if I told you that I'm an ancient vampire who runs this city with my equally powerful and ruthless family?"

You couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, so you are crazy. Good to know."

He didn't respond, simply staring at you, his expression deadly serious.

You shook your head, finishing the last few bites of your meal. "Come on, really? Vampires? Don't insult my intelligence."

He smirked and shrugged, leaning back in his chair, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Fine, don't believe me."

The waiter returned with the check, and before you could object, Elijah paid, adding a generous tip.

"Ready to go?" he asked, standing and offering you his arm.

You wanted to refuse, to insist on paying for yourself, but the rational part of you knew that it would be futile. Besides, maybe he'd finally leave you alone after this.

"Sure," you muttered, taking his arm.

As he led you out of the restaurant, you couldn't help but notice how good he smelled, and how firm his muscles were under your hand. You hated yourself for it, but he was undeniably attractive.

"Are you done terrorizing me?" you asked, as you made your way towards the car. “Is my debt to you cleared?”

He chuckled, opening the passenger door and waiting for you to get in before responding. "The debt? Yes. Terrorizing you? Not even close.”

{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}

[slitherinky]

Masterlist | About me | Requests

The Magic of Forgiveness

Setting: soft!Theodore Nott x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut and fluff, MDNI, fingering, oral sex (fem and male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie & Theo being more nice than he should

Summary: On a frosty Christmas Eve, Theodore Nott’s distant demeanor towards you unravels as he finally confesses the truth behind his distance: his overwhelming feelings for you. The tension melts away as he offers not only a heartfelt apology but also a special gift...

3117 Words

Please be aware of the warnings before proceeding. If you are underage, sensitive to depictions of violence, or intense explicit content, it is do not to read further. This story is purely fictional and does not reflect or endorse such behavior in real life. Any attempt to replicate the actions described in this story in real life is strongly discouraged. Harry Potter and the Wizarding World is a trademark of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall glittered with floating snowflakes, their icy shimmer mirroring the wintry magic that seemed to overtake every corner of Hogwarts as Christmas drew near. The castle, cloaked in frost and decorated with festive garlands, felt like a living fairytale. Students bustled through the hallways, their laughter mingling with soft hum of Christmas carols. 

You found yourself walking through the long, drafty corridors of Hogwarts, surrounded by the lively chatter of your friends. The scent of winter followed you as your boots clicked softly against the stone floors. It wasn’t long before your small group reached the familiar classroom door, which led to your last class of the day. 

You threw your books onto one of the tables with an audible thump. Taking your seat, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Just one more period, then you could hurry back to your common room and get changed. After that, it was nothing but a relaxing night with friends until the feasts tomorrow. 

The minutes ticked by at a snail’s pace. Professor Binns was droning about yet another goblin rebellion. The rhythmic monotony of his lecture, coupled with the soft scratching of quills and the occasional whispered exchange between students, created an almost trance-like atmosphere. You found your gaze wandering to the frost-covered windows, your quill tapping absentmindedly on your parchment as your thoughts drifted far from the lesson at hand.

As you reached for your inkpot, a folded piece of parchment appeared on your desk. You blinked, certain it hadn’t been there a moment ago. Glancing around, you noticed nothing suspicious — no one looking your way, no hint of a culprit. Curious, you unfolded it, your heart skipping as you read the delicate handwriting.

Meet me tonight by the Christmas tree in the courtyard.

The note was unsigned, and your mind raced. Was this some sort of prank? Or something more… genuine? Your fingers grazed the edge of the parchment, tracing the loops of the handwriting as if they could give you a clue. It didn’t look like anyone’s you immediately recognized, and yet, there was something familiar about it.

For the rest of the lesson, you couldn’t focus. Who had sent the note? And why?

As you packed up your things at the end of class, your eyes darted toward the front, where Theodore Nott sat, his sharp profile illuminated by the pale winter light. You couldn’t help but remember a time when the two of you had been inseparable, sharing your deepest secrets during late-night conversations in the common room. But somewhere along the way, things had shifted. He’d grown distant, his easy smiles replaced by guarded glances. Now, he seemed as disinterested in you, as you had been in the lesson.

The evening couldn’t come fast enough. As you slipped out of the common room and made your way to the courtyard, the air was crisp and tinged with the scent of pine. The massive Christmas tree stood in the center, adorned with twinkling fairy lights and glittering ornaments. Your breath formed clouds in the chilly air as you hesitated, half-wondering if this was all a mistake.

“You came.”

The voice startled you, low and soft. You turned to find Theodore Nott standing behind the tree, his hands tucked into the pockets and his face half buried in his green and silver scarf.

“It was you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, stepping closer. "Yeah. It’s me. Look, I know I’ve been… distant. And I’m sorry."

You blinked, unsure of how to respond. "Theo, why?"

He hesitated, his breath visible in the cold air. "I… I didn’t know how to face you anymore. It’s not an excuse, but I was scared. You mean more to me than anyone else, and I thought… if I kept my distance, maybe it would hurt less if something went wrong."

He fell silent, and for a long moment, you simply stared, your thoughts whirling. His words had knocked the breath from your lungs, leaving you feeling like you were suspended in time. 

"Theo," you said at last, "what are you talking about?"

He let out a frustrated sigh, as if he’d already said too much. 

"I have feelings for you y/n. Ever since we were first years. I thought we were just friends, but I want you to be more," He paused. "I thought you would have left me if I had told you."

His confession hit you like a wave, and for a moment, all the confusion and frustration of the past months melted away. 

"You’re an idiot," you said, still in shock of what he had just said.

"I know. But I’m here now. And I want to make it up to you."

Before you could reply, he gestured toward the castle. "Come with me. I… I want to show you something."

Curious, you followed him as he led you through the snow-covered grounds and into the dungeons. The familiar green glow of the Slytherin common room greeted you as Theo ushered you inside. The space was quiet, as most of the students had left after the last lesson to go home for the holidays.

"Wait here," he said, disappearing for a moment. When he returned, he held a small box and motioned for you to join him by the window. Snow had begun to fall outside, the flakes dancing against the dark sky. He opened the box to reveal a delicate silver necklace with a polished emerald dangling.

"Merry Christmas," he murmured, his eyes meeting yours.

You took the necklace, your fingers brushing his. "Theo, it’s beautiful."

He smiled softly. "Not as beautiful as you."

The words hung in the air, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned closer. His lips met yours, warm and soft, as the snow fell gently outside the window. In that moment, all the distance, all the questions, faded away, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the promise of something new.

As you pulled back, your chest felt fluttery and your lips tingled with the memory of his touch. 

"I- I think that’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever had."

"I’m glad," he murmured, taking a step closer, "but I can make it even better, if you let me."

Without thinking, you reached for him, and he met you halfway. Your lips were still tender from the previous kiss, but as they brushed together, they seemed to spark with new energy. This time, his lips moved more insistently, his tongue seeking yours out. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the heady taste of each other. His teeth grazed your lower lip, and you felt the kiss deep in your stomach.

"Theo," you moaned. The sound seemed to encourage him, his arms wrapping tighter around you as his mouth trailed down your throat. His breath ghosted across your skin, raising goosebumps.

The sight of his teeth biting your lip made you moan, and suddenly you felt hungry for more. More of what had been hidden from you for so long. More of what you wanted from him at this very moment. Your tongue swirled with his, tasting him. Your mouth was so hot and wet from his saliva. 

“You’re blushing,” he said, pulling slowly away from the kiss. His voice was low and teasing.

Your cheeks burned even more at his words, and you crossed your arms in a feeble attempt to look composed. 

“I am not,” you shot back, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you.

The faintest smirk tugged at his lips as he straightened and took a step closer, closing the distance between you. His hand reached up, brushing gently against your cheek, and your breath hitched at the contact.

“You’re a terrible liar, Love.” he murmured, his thumb grazing your jawline.

Before you could formulate a reply, Theodore moved again, this time slipping one arm behind your back and the other under your knees. In one smooth motion, he lifted you off the windowsill.

“Theo!” you exclaimed, instinctively clutching at his shoulders. “What are you doing?”

His smirk deepened, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “You looked like you were about to collapse. Can’t have you fainting after one kiss, now can we?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the warmth of his arms around you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the heat rising to your face made it hard to string words together. “I wasn’t going to collapse,” you muttered, but your voice was softer now, more uncertain.

“Sure you weren’t,” he said, clearly unconvinced as he carried you through the common room.

The space was quiet, the usual chatter and footsteps absent. The remaining Slytherins were long asleep, leaving only the two of you under the dim, flickering green light.

When Theodore reached his dorm, he nudged the door open with his foot and stepped inside. His room was tidy, almost minimalistic, with a faint scent of cedarwood and parchment lying in the air.

He lowered you onto his bed with care, his hands lingering just a moment longer than they needed to before he straightened. But instead of stepping away, he sat down beside you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight.

“There,” he said softly, his tone lighter now. “Safe and sound.”

You pushed yourself up slightly, your gaze flickering between his face and the faint pattern of shadows on the wall. 

“You really didn’t have to carry me,” you said, though your voice lacked the sharpness you’d intended.

“Maybe not," He took a deep breath, "But I wanted to. I want to adequately apologize for my behavior the last months. May I?" He asked, leaning forward. 

Your heart began pounding in your chest.

“Yes,” you replied.

His mouth met yours, this time without hesitation. He pushed you against the pillows. His hands roamed your body, his lips making their way down to your thighs. He was seeking your consent, and you found yourself wanting to give it, to give him every part of you.

You trembled at the sensation, his lips and tongue sending shivers up your leg. His fingers kneaded into your thigh, pressing gently into your muscle. You could feel his eyes on you, watching your reactions.

“Do you like that?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Mhm,” you repeated while nodding, not trusting yourself to say anything more.

Theodore’s fingers tightened around your thighs, his thumbs trailing across the seam of your trousers. Your head tipped back at the touch, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Open your eyes,” he murmured. “I want you to see me. See how much I love this. See what I’m giving you.”

His thumbs brushed higher, grazing against your pussy. You felt your breath catch, your thighs quivering. He kissed the inside of your thigh, his tongue tracing delicate circles on your skin. The sensation made you quiver, your legs falling open for him. He hummed his approval and teased your slit with his fingers, drawing slow circles around your clit. 

“Theo,” you moaned, your hips twitching.

He kissed his way up your thigh, nipping at the crease before gently pulling at your pants and underwear. You lifted your hips for him, allowing him to slide them off. The cool air tickled against your skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of his mouth.

When his lips closed around your clit, you gasped, your whole body clenching. He groaned at the sound, his fingers joining his mouth as he rubbed you in slow, deliberate motions. Your head rolled back, and you could feel your legs trembling, your toes curling against the mattress. 

“Feel good?” He asked between kisses.

“Yes,” you gasped. "god yes."

He growled softly and slid one finger inside of you. “How about now?”

Your hips arched at the intrusion, your body clenching around him. 

His tongue swirled against your clit as he fingered you, his strokes slow and deep. Your pussy clenched around him, your vision blurring. You were close to the edge, your breath quickening with every stroke of his tongue, every movement of his fingers. 

“Theo, I’m-“ you gasped, but couldn’t finish before your orgasm overtook you. Your back arched, and you cried out, the feeling ripping through you. You felt like you were falling apart, the sensations too powerful to bear. 

Theodore withdrew his fingers and licked them clean. 

"You taste delicious," he moaned. "Like sweet cream and vanilla." 

He kissed you deeply, allowing you to taste your pussy on his tongue.

You laughed, the sound weak. Your body was still buzzing from his touch, the memory of it still echoing in your senses. 

"You're a bastard," you said, but there was no heat behind your words.

Theodore smirked, his eyes glinting. "So I've been told." He leaned back, his gaze sliding down your body.

You noticed then that he was still dressed. His robes had slipped down in the heat of the moment, revealing a tantalizing slice of his collarbone. The sight sparked an ache in your stomach, and you suddenly, desperately wanted to see him — really see him. 

“Take off your clothes,” you ordered, your voice low and commanding.

He blinked, his eyes wide. “Really?”

You nodded, your pulse thrumming. "I want everything of you Theo."

Without a word, he reached up and began to unbutton his shirt. He undressed slowly, deliberately, each movement almost agonizing in its slowness. When the last button was undone, he shrugged the garment off and let it fall to the floor.

Your breath caught at the sight of him — his chest was broad, his abs tight and defined. He looked even better than you’d imagined, his body lean and toned. A trail of dark hair dusted his chest, trailing lower to disappear beneath his trousers. 

Your fingers twitched with the urge to touch him, but you didn’t move. You wanted to savor this, to commit every detail of him to memory.

With a smirk, Theodore reached down and began to undo his trousers. They slid down his hips, revealing a pair of dark boxers and a bulge that left no doubt as to his arousal. You swallowed, your mouth dry at the thought of his cock inside you. 

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmured, glancing up at you.

You nodded wordlessly. “Yes.”

He slipped out of his boxers, his cock springing free. It was long and thick, the head flushed red with arousal. He stroked himself slowly, his fist moving in long, lazy motions.

“Come here, Love,” he murmured.

You obeyed, reaching out to take his cock in your hands. Your palms were warm against him, the skin hot and velvet-soft. You stroked him, your hands moving in tandem with his. His head tipped back at your touch, a groan escaping his throat.

“Fuck y/n,” he rasped, his voice low.

You moved down, your tongue swiping across his tip. He was hot against your lips, salty and musky. You licked him slowly, tasting him thoroughly as you worked your way down his shaft. His fingers tangled in your hair, his breath coming in short, quick gasps. 

You took him between your lips and sucked, moving slowly as you took him deeper. His fingers tightened in your hair, guiding you as you bobbed on his cock. Your tongue slid down his length, swiping at the tender skin. He let out a loud moan at the sensation, his hips jerking. 

Suddenly he pulled your head back. 

"Get naked for me, Love." he growled. "I want to see your body."

You obeyed, stripping the garment off and tossing it away. The room was warm, but a shiver ran down your spine as his eyes traveled your body. 

He ran his fingers over the necklace he had just gifted you, trailing down over your small, pebbled nipples. You let out a soft gasp. "You're perfect," he groaned. "Lay back on the bed."

You did as he asked, sliding back on your elbows and spreading your legs for him. His eyes ran down you, his breathing speeding up. He gripped his cock in one hand, trailing the hand through your legs. You gasped, arching up into the touch. He felt so fucking good against you.

Theo let out a soft moan, pushing inside of you. The feeling was overwhelming.  He stretched you out, his thickness rubbing against your inner walls. You let out a small cry at the intrusion. He paused, looking up at you. 

"Are you okay?" he rasped.

"Fuck, yes," you moaned while nodding.

He pushed deeper inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust before pulling back and thrusting slowly inside of you again. Your whole body lit up with pleasure at the feeling of him moving in and out of you. His hips were quick, his strokes deep and strong. You could hear the slap of his skin against yours and the wet sounds of him fucking you. 

"I will never let you down again," he moaned. "I promise."

His thrusts sped up as he fucked you, pushing deeper inside of you. He pulled your thighs wider apart, groaning as he watched himself disappear inside of you. 

"Look at how pretty you look taking my cock," he gasped.

You met his eyes, the connection making you burn up with desire. His gaze ran over your body, taking in every detail. 

He pulled you up to him, your legs wrapping around him as he sat on the edge of the bed. He pounded into you, thrusting in deep and strong strokes. His hands ran down your back to grip your ass, lifting you up and down on his cock. You felt like he was holding you together, like you would fall apart if he let go of you. 

He brought his mouth to yours, kissing you passionately as he fucked you. You felt overwhelmed by his touch. He was consuming you. Your whole world was centered on him and his touch.

"I'm going to come," you cried out.

He grunted, his pace quickening. You felt his cock twitch inside of you as your pussy clenched, your orgasm waving through you both. He filled you with his come, your pussy clenching around him for more. Your chest heaved as you gasped for breath, your vision blurring as pleasure overtook you. 

When your body relaxed, he leaned down and kissed you. "Merry Christmas, Love." 

You smiled at him, pulling his face to yours. 

"It sure is." You kissed him again, softer this time. "Thank you."

He pressed a last kiss to your forehead before he almost inaudibly whispered in your ear

"I love you."

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