#please help my thoughts are all just these two

[melanchoire]

hi! can i request a top student karina who helps y/n to get a good grades and became obsessed with her (friendly rivalry plot 🤩). y/n realized she couldn't survive school without her and starts doing what karina wants (to please her 💗), that eventually lead to her bedroom.. can you also add up that the y/n loves boobs like yk she would beg karina to let her suck her and please also add that karina is into face sitting mwehehe.

this seems a lot sorry... THANK YOU ANYWAY!!

i missed writing for rina so much 💔 anyway i still have a couple of aespa stuff in my drafts (aeri stans get ready 🎇🎉🎊)

cw: cunnilingus, face–sitting, thigh riding, titsucking.

karina being a senior at your school who becomes your tutor due to your less than ideal grades 💔 having to meet her every school day at the library starts to make you realize that slacking off in class and taking lazy and messy notes for the sake of joking around and talking with your friends was a very bad idea

you knew something about her, not too much, but you had seen her a couple of times in the school hallways or among the crowds of people at school events. you thought she would be a bit stuck up like some of the other girls in her class given the looks they tend to give younger students, but she wasn’t completely giving off that vibe, and you could tell when she looked up from her phone upon entering the library and dropped the straw of her milkshake from between her lips. “oh hey! you made it. i thought you weren’t coming.” and she approaches you smiling, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek and maintaining a charismatic and friendly attitude

“it’s good to see you here. your teacher told me about your low grades and asked me to help you study and prepare for the upcoming exams so you can pass her subject. i hope you’re okay with that." but you can’t pay much attention to her words because your eyes are on her because she is so much more beautiful up close 😵‍💫 this was definitely the motivation you needed to finally pay attention to your studies

her sharp and pronounced features, the way her silky hair waves gracefully when she walks and a small breeze hits her face, how her uniform accentuates her body, the slight movement of her hips and her confidence when she walks makes you stare at her like an idiot every time you see her. karina even greets you when she sees you in the hallways, no matter if you are with your friends or she is with her group, when she passes by you, she gives you a small nod and a smile, but if she sees you from afar, it’s a wink and a wave of her hand 🫠 you don’t know how she would react if she knew that sometimes you wander around the school on purpose just to find her or memorizing the route she takes to her classroom or during break time

but karina is just as obsessed as you are! of course she notices the look that your eyes have when you see her, but she always maintains a relaxed attitude, holding back a smirk as she sees how you think you’re being subtle with your gaze when it’s traveling all over her body…

and thanks to karina’s help you manage to go from being the lazy student who is always talking in class to the student who participates in class and does all their homework so they can use the extra class time to complete some other assignment in another subject or study for the exams they got

little by little, the study dates begin to become more… intimate. karina always used to sit next to you while she explained the exercises, placing the notebook between the two of you and looking at you every time she explained a new concept to make sure you were following her lead and understood what he was talking about. now, she was more… closer. continuing to sit next to you but much closer to you, her chest practically at your side and always remembering to make sure to press her breasts against your shoulder, enjoying when you turn your face to the side to look at her as she explains, getting nervous about having her face so close to yours and noticing how your gaze falls directly to her lips

a hand resting on your knee as she explains the formulas and different ways to solve an equation, climbing dangerously up your thigh until it reaches under your skirt. “now we will do a little practice. i’ve already written the results of the equations. you just have to do the math, and if you get the same result as me, it means it’s correct.” as if she wasn’t currently caressing your clit through your panties with her fingertips 🥰 “if you do this well, we can stop studying here and do something more… fun.” and you’ve never been so motivated to do a task before!

karina pushing your panties aside so her fingers could caress your folds… you were thankful that there was no one in the library at this hour, because otherwise, you wouldn’t be having this! or that’s what you think, because if it were up to karina, she would fuck you on the table even with the library full of people 😊

and when you finally finish completing the exercises, you think that she will give you what you want so much, but no! she focuses on correcting the exercises you solved, taking all her time and taking extra time to provoke you ☹️

but a promise is a promise, so karina drags you to her bedroom!

although karina won’t give it to you easily 😣 making you kneel in front of her and beg her to touch you, but not before confessing how much you want to fuck her for a long time and tell her all the twisted ideas that are in that silly little head of yours :( karina enjoys being mean because it’s very easy to break you and make you act like a dumb

making you sit on her lap and ride her thigh while she lets you play with her tits 😵‍💫 pushing your face into her chest with a grip on your hair, grinning as you watch as the more you suck on her tits the more desperate your hips move against her thigh

“so that was it... do you always put effort into your studies when it comes to me because you want to fuck me, (y/n)? all you do is think about me playing with this body when you study?”

“riding my thigh like a dog humping a leg… you're pathetic, (y/n).”

letting karina ride your face because it’s your way of thanking her for helping you improve your grades and be a better student 🫶🏻 she loves to see your vulnerable expression and your eyes looking at her from between her thighs, enjoying it more when you whine against her pussy as she pushes her hips harder against your face just to tease you 🥴 and she is so sweet that she also allows you to touch yourself while you devour her, letting you sneak a hand under your skirt and play with your throbbing clit while she uses you for her own pleasure

[witherby]

If the last fic takes place before the Batfam knew about Conners existence, I just wanna see Mouse explain to them that a Superman cosplayer saved them lol

I love that. "Yeah some cosplayer saved my life. 10/10 would let him do it again."

Littlest Wayne: Information Gathering

Masterlist is Here!

"You and Superman need to come straight to the Cave when you return to Earth."

"I miss you, too, babe," Hal smirks, gliding just above the ground on a planet he and Clark are guarding for a major diplomatic conference. "Tryna get the debrief out of the way so we can get me out of by boxer briefs right after?"

"Mouse was in a hostage situation in Metropolis today that was too overcast for them to get out of."

Hal's good mood plummets. He almost shouts for Clark to get his ass over to him so they can immediately head back.

"Are they —"

"Alive, and relatively unharmed considering the severity of the event."

"What does relatively mean in this context, B?" Hal snaps. "Relatively unharmed by vigilante standards or by civilian standards? Are they in the hospital?"

"Some bad bruising to the temple and a low-grade burn on the right arm. They're safe."

Bruce's calm tone and steady cadence helps relax Hal. His shoulders un-tense and he lets out a sigh.

"Alright. But there's more to it, otherwise you wouldn't have contacted me."

Bruce hums in that quiet way he does when he's pleased by Hal's deductive reasoning. It makes him smile and miss him that much more, and he's only been gone two days.

"They were rescued by a new Meta. Called himself Superman."

"Look at you, crackin' jokes on an official League line. Never thought I'd see the day!"

"..."

"You're not joking. There's a second Superman flying around?"

"A Superboy, by the looks of it. He's the real deal — the flight, the strength, and the suit all points to another Kryptonian. This will make three, after Supergirl."

Hal furrows his brow. He lets his feet hit the ground and starts to pace, kicking up little bits of purple dirt. This planet is ridiculously fragile. It's part of the reason he and Clark are protecting it during these peace talks.

"Is it a baby? Don't remember either Kara or Lois looking pregnant."

"A teenager. Around Mouse's age, by the looks of him, and very inexperienced from what scattered footage I can find of the event."

"Which makes no sense. There's something up if he's a teen but still can't use his powers right. Supes told us he could hone his almost perfectly before he was old enough to drive a car. A new scheme by Luthor or Waller, maybe?"

"I knew I married you for a reason."

"Keep praising me like that and there won't be time for a debrief when I get home."

Bruce hums again. His considering sound. The Green Lantern suit feels very constricting, all of a sudden.

"You don't need to rush your mission to get back. There is one more thing you need to know prior to return, however."

"I'm all ears."

"Mouse described the Superboy as... handsome."

Hal falls to his hands and knees, kicking up a small cloud of purple dust.

"No, no, nooo! They're just a baby!"

"Well. They're seventeen."

"Well I say they're too young for romance! Yesterday they were afraid of Cooties!!"

"Time flies. It's inevitable."

"We're gonna wrap these peace talks up tonight."

Bruce sounds amused on the other end of the line, like he hasn't just crushed Hal's entire world three sentences ago.

"You aren't due back for another week."

"We're wrapping it up tonight!"

"Okay. Agent A will know to set your plate tomorrow."

"Can he make some of those mini quiches? I'm gonna need comfort food to get over this."

"I'll pass the request along."

"And can you wear the see-through robe you were given after you shot that Dior commercial?"

"...if you slick back your hair, yes."

Hal grins. He's still not happy about his youngest kid growing up so fast, but this is a nice consolation prize.

--

True to his word, Hal and Clark get the peace talks concluded by nightfall and head back to Earth. Clark is given the general run-down of what happened on the way, and his curiosity and insistence on getting answers lets Hal know it'll be a long night. He's gonna slick his hair back anyway. He misses his husband, dammit.

You sit at the meeting table in the Bat Cave, feet propped on top exactly like Jason does it, with your hands stuffed in the pockets of your hoodie. You stare groggily at Hal and Clark as they fly in from their trip, shuffling to your feet to give them both sleepy hugs.

"Welcome back," you yawn. "Dad said you have questions?"

"Hey, Mousey," Hal grins, ruffling your hair. You grumble and wave his hand away, then grumble louder when Clark does the exact same thing. "Just got some follow-up questions about the field trip, then we'll let you get back to bed."

You go back to your seat and slump into it, rubbing your eyes. "Kay."

"Did the boy you met tell you his name?" Clark asks, sitting to your right. There's a dossier sitting on the table that he flips open, glancing over the information Bruce collected with Tim's help. He frowns at a still image pulled from his interview on TV.

"Just called himself Superman," you explain. "He had a version of your suit on. It looked legit. I'm guessing he's not your son, based on the way you're looking at the file."

"He is not. Did he seem to be acting maliciously or under someone's control? Was he flesh and blood or robotic?" Clark asks. "Did he hurt anyone? Did he try to hurt you?"

"No," you say, "he was warm. He's flesh and blood and definitely saved us from that fire. In fact he seemed...uh.."

You wave your hand around vaguely and pick over the best way to phrase this.

"Okay! There's a boy at school named Rory. He transferred to Gotham Academy this year after being homeschooled."

"Mousey," Hal speaks up, "I know you're tired, but we kinda gotta stay on track —"

"I am!" You insist. "I am, I swear. Look, it was obvious Rory was homeschooled because he didn't know how to, like, socialize properly? He asked a lot of questions that feel like common-sense if you're used to going to public schools and talking to people outside your family. The Superman cosplayer kind of acted like that."

"Cosplayer?" Clark mouths at Hal, who waves him off.

"So you think he's never been out there doing any hero stuff before that day?"

You shrug and nod. "I think he's never been out at all before that day. He reminded me a lot of Rory on his first day of school."

"But he didn't hurt you?" Hal asks.

"I promise, he didn't. He spoke to me like twice and then brought me to the EMTs to get looked at. Then Jason showed up and brought me home after making sure the school knew I wouldn't be taking the bus back from Metropolis."

"Last question," Clark promises, recapturing your attention. "Can you find him right now? With your shadows?"

"Uh, I can try."

Your gaze becomes a little distant. The shadows cast from one of the overhead lights shifts and dissolves into the ground, zipping out of the cave. Hal and Clark wait silently as you work, feeling for the presence of the boy that saved you just a day before.

"... M e t r o p o l i s..." You mutter, voice taking on that faint, echoing quality it does whenever you speak through the darkness. "...A r o o m...c o n c i o u s...k n o w s I s e e..."

"Come back, Mouse," Hal says, urgent. You take a moment to get your bearings, yawning and rubbing your face. "He knows you used your power to find him?"

You nod. "He saw my shadow move in the corner of his room. Guys, it's so bare and dark. He's got a cot, an alarm clock, and one blanket in there. It looks like some room you'd stick a sick person in to quarantine them."

"Where in Metropolis is he? That doesn't sound like the Solitary Confinement cells in the prison."

"It's not a jail. It looked like a lab, I think?"

"Lex Luthor," Hal and Clark state at the same time. Clark stands up, drawing you into another gentle hug, then heads for the exit.

"Thank you for your help, Mouse! Sleep well."

"Bye, uncle Clark. Have a good night," you call after him. When Hal stands, you rise with him, stretching. "Can I go to bed, now?"

"Yeah, hon," Hal nods, pressing his hand to your back and guiding you to the stairs. "We'll head up together. I'll tell your dad what we learned when he comes back from patrol."

"Kay," you mumble, climbing the steps with another wide yawn. "M'sleeping in tomorrow. Being up at two am sucks."

Hal chuckles. "Yeah, it does. We'll put your breakfast in some Tupperware for when you get up, then."

Once the two of you climb through the grandfather clock and reenter the manor proper, you give Hal one more goodnight hug, then excuse yourself to go to bed. Your eyes are closed as you shuffle into your room and nudge the door closed behind you, navigating the space from memory. It's not until you start climbing back into bed that you feel a dip in it that shouldn't be there.

The dip of another person's weight.

You snap your eyes open and you inhale to scream. A hand presses itself to your mouth, and you find yourself staring at those brilliant blues from yesterday.

"Waitwaitwait-" the boy gasps, whisper-shouting. "Please!!"

You push his hand off and he lifts them both up in placation, floating off the bed and several feet away from you.

"What do you want!?" You whisper-yell back. "Why are you in my room!? That's creepy!"

He grimaces, knees curling towards his chest. In the low light, you can see color painting his cheeks.

"I wanted to come see you," he murmurs.

"Why?"

"I don't know your name."

You're completely flummoxed. You shake your head and shrug.

"Do you need to?" You ask.

The boy floats a little closer, his gaze intense. He looks at you like...he looks at you like you're the most important thing in the world right now. It makes your stomach swoop.

"Yes," he says, completely sincere. "I'm...I can't...there's this..."

His brow furrows. He's exceptionally easy to read, like he's never known how to be anything except fully, authentically himself. It's a welcome change in a family of vigilante detectives with emotional intimacy issues. It'll help you know if he's trying to deceive you, too.

Quietly, you give him your name. His eyes snap to yours and he repeats it, lips shaping the vowels and consonants with an unusual reverence. You can feel your own face getting a little warm.

"I'm...Conner," the boy says. His eyes dart to your mouth. You oblige.

"Hi, Conner," you mutter. His whole body un-tenses, looking like a puppet with his strings cut as he almost dangles in the air.

"Can I —" Conner cuts himself off. He drifts closer to you. You shift back, feeling cornered from where you kneel in your bed. "Ah. I wanted... I don't know how to say..."

Exhausted and confused, you gesture at him to hurry it up a little. You know you should probably alert someone that the new Meta boy is literally floating four feet away from you right now, but you know he isn't here to cause harm.

"It's late," you speak up. "Can you try a little harder to get the point across so I can sleep?"

"Yes," Conner says quickly, obediently. "Call for me."

You blink heavily. Your mind feels like sludge. "Elaborate."

"When you need something," he specifies. "If you're in danger, or lonely, or just...or just want to. Please. Call for me and I'll come to you."

"Why?" You yawn. It's getting harder to stay conscious. You let your body fall over until you collide with the pillows, eyes slipping closed. "Why me?"

Conner floats above you, reaching down to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with more reverence than is appropriate for having barely met. His fingers brush against the bruise on your temple, featherlight.

"Because it's you," he says, as your consciousness fades. "Something in my heart is yours... I hope that's okay."

You hum, managing a barely discernible "kay," in your last seconds of awareness before sleep pulls you under.

In your subconscious mind, you register warmth wrap around you for a moment, and then you're alone with nothing but a cracked window as evidence anyone had ever been there.

[shikaizer]

PAIGENEXTDOOR. p.b x reader

summary : PART II you dislike your roomate because you think she hates you, so you go with the flow of thoughts and hatred towards each other, until she had enough of you and took all the anger she has been feeling towards you.

warning : degration, bitchy paige, hate sex, paige is a bastard.

paige was your roomate. a fucking one of a kind, although you knew how famous she was you payed no mind to it. you cant help but wonder, why she was always rude to you, assuming the personality she would show to her fans, it was the opposite for you.

but would you blame her? your full on annoying, the way your voice would rise and how loud you would laugh, and whenever she would come back home to see the living room messy full of snacks and delight while you layed lazily watching tv, and whenever the two of you are in the kitchen and you would give her dirty side eyes.

you tried to shake off the hate the both of you are sharing but she was just so fucking prideful, she would tell you to leave her alone, and she doesnt want to deal with you, even though your just initiating a conversation.

Not until she had enough, that night she was really stressed because she just lost a game and you weren't helping, you kept shouting and laughing at everything your friend is telling you.

you flinched when you hear the outside of your door being slammed then swinging open agressively paige walking in like she owns the room.

"what the hell?" you whispered to yourself bringing the speaker of your phone closer to your lips "hey jenna i'll talk to you later" you hang up your phone and set your phone done glaring up at her

"what the fuck is your problem?" you spat and she slammed the door shut walking closer to your bed looking down at you "your my problem." she scoffed and you stood up to prove to yourself that you are not intimidated by her and the way she was looking down at you, but your still looking up at her

"your mouth is so fucking loud you know? i wanna slap your mouth right now." she spat leaning her face down to your level

"do you ever shut the hell up?" she asked again making you roll her eyes, you cant even defend yourself because literally all she was saying is true.

"yes? so what?" you raised your eyebrows cocking your head to the side and she scoffed amuse a smirk growing on her lips

"so what? say that shit again i dare you." you threw your head back shaking your head, you know arguing with her will lead to nothing and it was useless.

"what do you want paige?" you sighed giving up as you placed both hands on the side of your waist

She hesistated for a second and spoke up again. "take off your clothes." she uttured and you were stunned hesistating for a second trying to process what she just said

"what?" you furrowed your eyebrows asking again even though what she said was clear.

"take them off." she growled walking closer to you the back of your knee hitting the bed making you sit, she looked at you up and down wetting her lips "please." she added and stared deeply at your eyes.

you start to tug on the hem of your shirt bringing them over to your head, scooting yourself forward to your bed as your left with your bra and shorts, she placed a leg on your side feeling the weight of her body adding up in the matress as she pushed you down.

her hands crept behind you unhooking your bra with ease and you smirked looking up at her "you usually do this?" the smirk on your mouth left when she glared down at you "just shut, the fuck up." she moved her knee to your core moving them and you moaned bucking your hips closer.

"fuck yeah.." you threw your head back and she continued, she disregarded her hoodie leaving her in her sports bra, you traced your fingers on her abs.

"love the sight?" she asked and you nodded

"how long have you been wanting to fuck me?" you bit your lip and she gave you an amused smirk "whenever your loud, wanna see if laughing is the only thing your loud at." you rolled your eyes and she slid down your shorts with your panty putting them on the floor

she then lifted one leg up placing them on her shoulder, she leaned down and kissed you roughly her fingers starting to rub slow motions on your clit making you whince thru the kiss.

you bucked your hips more and she pushed you down deeper into the matress the kiss beggining to be sloppier.

"shit.." you sighed when she pulled away and her fingers slid inside, squeezing your eyes shut, your arms wrapping around her shoulder pulling her closer

the wetness inside you helped her begin to be faster reach down deep in. "shit yes!" you moaned loudly nails digging her skin making her whince

"feels good?" she leaned down whispering to your ear as she thrusted deeper your back arching, you slammed your hand on your mouth and she was quick to remove it on your mouth.

"wanna hear you so bad..." she confessed and you start to kiss her neck lower the sound your making

"mmm..sorry" you smirked thru her neck and her hands starts to grip on your head

"gonna...cum.." you breath out and she nodded fastening her pace, you felt your stomach knotting and quickly came once she curled her fingers, she cursed under her breath when she felt you relaxing as you have came on her fingers, she sucked on them and sat up putting back her hoodie.

"what...?" you furrowed your eyebrows expecting her to stay and cuddled with you.

"this never happend." she muttured and you furrowed your eyebrows when she stood up leaving your room not even turning to take a glance to your way.

[tbaluver]

S/O With ADHD- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader requested: by a couple anonnies ♥︎ a/n: hihi my lovelies! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i just want to mention a disclaimer about this. while i do have adhd, everybody experiences things differently so what might be common for me, can be completely different to another person! these symptoms presented here are only what i’ve experienced and what my friends have experienced and what people have requested! do not refer to this to diagnose yourself. if you suspect you might have adhd, please refer to a professional! there will be a part two to this because theres more to add but anyways enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He didn’t fully grasp the idea when you tried to explain your adhd to him, your thoughts would jump from one thing to another and he tried to keep up. He would do his own research to understand better what you were going through. He would notice the little things, the way you would say you 're going to do something but never actually start or how tasks seem to take you forever to finish.

No worries about being late or rushing to go on dates or hangouts with him, there’s no set start time. Often times the dates and hangouts are flexible. He’ll wait until you’re ready as long as he gets to spend time with you and eat yummy food together, he’s happy

Indulges and learns your hyper fixations and your current obsessions. He’ll learn more about them on his own time so he can talk more about them with you

If you’re okay with it, he’ll join you whenever you need to rest and watch your comfort shows whenever you’re feeling drained or overstimulated. He’ll make the atmosphere in the room feel more cozy either by giving you space, adjusting the lighting and closing the curtains, tucking you in your blankets, so you can recharge

Praises your smallest victories even if it was just cleaning your room or finishing a simple task in under an hour without thinking or worrying about it. He knows that even the simplest tasks can feel overwhelming so when you manage to do something without thinking or bed rotting before doing something, he’s genuinely proud of you.

Zayne:

He would truly listen when you go off on a tangent of your hyperfixations, letting you ramble about them without interrupting you. Even if you branch off too many topics that you swear relates to the main topic, eventually forgetting what the point was, he patiently brings you back to the main point.

“..wait what was I talking about?”

“you were talking about how ___ and __”

He’s very organized, constantly tidying and rearranging things for you without needing to be asked. He doesn’t mind it at all. He organizes in a way that he knows would help you but if you ever forget where something is, he’s quick to help you. lost your keys? by the dining room table. your jacket? in the laundry basket. your phone? you’re holding it

Tries to keep his explanations short and easier to understand. He’ll give you just enough without getting lost in any unnecessary details

When he’s not around, he helps you by texting you on specific times to check up on you or to help shift your focus

Separate calm activities alone but together with him. You could be doing your own thing while he reads his book(s) or finishes up any medical reports

Calculates how long it usually takes you to get ready, so he’ll plan dates with reservation an hour or two ahead of time, sometimes maybe even more depending on the date, just to avoid overwhelming you. He’s always patient and understanding, sometimes he’ll help you get ready to take the weight off your shoulders

Rafayel:

In the beginning, he’ll notice you can run late to things but once you explain that it’s because of your adhd, he’ll be more understanding. Still, he can’t help but tease you just a little but he means well. He’ll just plan more hangouts that don’t require any set start time, just as long as you two are together at the end

Yap sessions with him take up an ungodly amount of hours. You both branch off to different topics, each one you both swear is just as important as the last, so the conversation goes in different directions. It takes forever to circle back to the original point.

He loves hearing about your hyper fixations. You can tell him everything, every little fact and he’ll ask you a million questions, indulging in your passion for it as well.

Loves to spend time with you but he is mindful and lets you have the space to unwind whenever you might feel overstimulated or just need to recharge

Shows so much encouragement whenever you show your creative and passionate side. He’ll recognize and appreciate the things you’re good at, even if you’re not able to see it in yourself

It’s canon that he sends you separate messages instead of big blocks of texts but its not because that’s how he feels more comfortable texting but also because he knows that long paragraphs can feel overwhelming. He doesn’t want you to miss anything or feel pressured to read through a lot at once

Sylus:

Lets you hold his hand whenever you want, no need to ask. He knows how much you fidget and he loves how you rub circles on the back of his hand, melting under your touch. If it helps you feel better, then go ahead. He’d even buy you rings to fidget with, ones that maybe match and also just so you can have something to twist and twirl when he’s not around

He adores listening to your obsessions and your hyper fixations, letting you ramble your latest interests or the new trinkets you’ve added to your collection. He’ll even surprise you with little trinkets he remembers from past conversations, knowing they would make you smile

Enjoys spending time with you even if you were focused on your own thing, whether it was hobby related or just unwinding in your own way while he’s also doing his own thing.

When you need help focusing and he’s not around, he’ll reach out at a certain time to check in and help refocus your attention

Doesn’t really send you paragraph lengths of text messages but sends you shorter messages so it doesn’t feel as overwhelming. He’ll mostly send voice messages that are short and the right length so it doesn’t let your mind drift away

Online shopping with him can help so you can control yourself from impulse buying so many things. He doesn’t mind you buying the entire world with his card but sometimes he has to stop you from buying things you absolutely don’t need

Caleb:

It’s easy for tasks to slip through or become overwhelming. You might start one thing but your mind jumps to something else and it takes a while before you can get back to what you were originally doing. Caleb would help by breaking down your chores one at a time or with more manageable steps or most of the time he’ll step in and take care of things for you so you don’t feel burdened.

If anything important was coming up the day after, he’ll leave little sticky notes for you all over the house, each one with a tiny apple doodles. They’ll be on your mirror, bedroom door, anywhere else he knows you’ll see them

Ever since you were a kid, he’ll still help you go over any of your works or anything you were unsure about when you feel like you missed any details. He’ll make sure you don’t miss anything

Never judgemental at all if you cut him off mid-sentence. He understands that you need to get your thoughts out quickly before they slip away so he lets you speak freely without worry

Sometimes you might forget to reply to a message or forget to come back to the conversation, so he’ll send a follow up message like, “whaddya think pipsqueak? :o” or he’ll send you a post to bring you back to the convo

If you’re struggling to focus on something, instead of pushing you to keep going, he’ll encourage you to take a break. He’ll help you ease back into it whether it’s breaking things down further or offering some encouragement

[galaxywannabe]

Listen I know I promised a Bucky fic and it's COMING I SWEAR but I need to get this Joaquín headcanon out of my brain because it's been bouncing around in there for like a week and I can't make it stop.

Imagine Joaquín and reader who constantly call each other babygirl.

At first it started out as a complete joke.

You walk into the Captain America office one day to visit him for lunch with a big ass grin on your face, strutting right up to his station.

"Hi babygirl, whatchu doin?"

His brow crinkles with bewildered amusement, a huff of a laugh escaping his lips as he stands to wrap his arms around you.

"Babygirl?"

You shrug, nonchalant, but there's a mischievous glint in your eyes. You'd been cooking up that greeting the whole drive over here, eager to see his reaction to the new petname.

"What? You call me that all the time, I thought I'd try it out on you. What do we think, does it fit?" You tease.

He can't even pretend not to be completely enamored by everything you do, his amusement unmistakable as he gets a grin on his face to match yours.

"Babygirl, huh? Yeah, no, I think it works. I think it's cool, it's manly for sure." He tries to look serious as he nods his agreement, but he can't pull it off with his megawatt smile.

-

It was just a stupid one-off joke to get a reaction out of him, but you can't help teasing him with it later on when you're at home in your shared apartment.

He pops his head into the bedroom where you're reading a book, looking slightly flustered as he rushes to get dressed for guys' night with about 5 minutes to spare.

"Babygirl, have you seen my watch?"

You smirk fondly at his disheveled appearance, button-down only half buttoned, wallet and keys hastily shoved into the back pockets of his jeans.

"I don't know, babygirl, have you checked the charger?" You sass, your brows raised expectantly.

He freezes for a moment, buffering a little at the rather obvious suggestion, and then his face breaks out into a grateful smile.

"Totally. I totally already checked there. Thanks, babygirl." He winks, dashing out of your room to grab his apple watch and - you're hoping - button the rest of his shirt.

-

From then on, it's just...a thing. An inside joke between the two of you. And honestly it doesn't take long before it's such a force of habit, you guys forget that it's weird for you to call your boyfriend 'babygirl'.

A few weeks later Sam is over at your place. Joaquín and him are sitting on the couch in front of some sports game you pretend to vaguely understand, chatting and exchanging stories. You're nearby, listening but trying not to intrude on the bonding moment. Your man calls over his shoulder, his eyes not quite able to leave the action on screen long enough to look at you.

"Babygirl, can you grab me another beer, please?"

You roll your eyes fondly. The man usually dotes on you hand and foot, but when it's game time, you don't mind taking a turn so he can keep watching balls go through hoops or whatever. You grab his requested beverage and walk it over, holding it out with a teasing smirk.

"This one's free, but you gotta pay for the next one, babygirl."

Joaquín just chuckles at your antics, accepting the cold beer with a grin.

"Man, the bartender here's really strict..."

That first time he hears you say it, Sam pauses for a second, confused, but brushes it off pretty easily. Maybe he'd misheard you. Torres didn't react, after all, and he definitely would have if you'd said what Sam thought you said...right?

But maybe an hour or so later, you do it again, and Sam knows it's not a fluke. You've been yawning heavily for the past several minutes, and it's pretty obvious you're fading fast from the way you jolt upright in surprise when Joaquín yells at a referee on the TV screen.

You sigh, finally admitting defeat. "Alright, I'm sorry boys, I think I've gotta call it an early night. You'll just have to let me know who won tomorrow."

You walk over to Sam first, and he stands to let you give him a hug. "Sam, so great seeing you as always. You're always welcome here to drink my beers and entertain my boyfriend."

He laughs at that, and you turn to said boyfriend next, leaning down to kiss his cheek with a sleepy smile.

"Will you please clean up out here when you guys are done?"

Joaquín nods, distracted by the screen but taking a moment to meet your eyes to indicate he's heard you. "Yeah, babygirl, 'course I will. Sleep tight, we'll try not to be too loud out here."

You snort, rolling your eyes. He can 'try' all he likes, your man doesn't stand a chance at maintaining a normal volume if his team starts to lose. You glance at the score on the screen, relieved to see they're up by a few points.

"Alright, I'll hold you to that. Goodnight, babygirl, I love you."

There's no mistaking the way he makes direct eye contact with you as you say it, or the way he smiles adoringly as he responds.

"I love you too, babe."

Sam's brain screeches to a halt, and he stares at you like you're two dogs who suddenly got up and started dancing the flamenco.

"Waitwaitwaitwaitwait. Hold up. Did you just call him 'babygirl'? Twice? And he let you?!"

It takes a second for you to even register what he's so worked up about, but when you do a Cheshire grin spreads across your face. You pause, exaggeratedly tapping your chin as you recall the past couple of hours.

"Hmm...yep. Sure did. Wow, only twice? That's honestly pretty tame for us, sometimes I feel like it's every other word out of our mouths," you chuckle, thoroughly enjoying both Sam's reaction and the brand new shade of red your boyfriend is turning.

Sam's mouth opens and closes a few times, bewildered by your nonchalance, the way you act like this is something normal couples do every day. Then he turns on Joaquín, shifting on the couch to face him better with an imploring gaze.

"Torres, man, you let your girl call you babygirl? That's her nickname for you, really?"

Joaquín looks like he'd rather be anywhere else right now, and if it wasn't so goddamn funny you would almost feel bad for him. Sam's his mentor, practically an older sibling to him, and he's always trying to impress the guy or emulate him in some way. But there is not one single thing that's cool about letting your girlfriend call you 'babygirl', and you can see the horror in poor Joaquín's eyes as he realizes that fact. He's never gonna live this down, and for a moment you even wonder if he'll try and deny it.

But your heart skips a beat when, after a moment of awkward silence, Joaquín just rubs the back of his neck and grins sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders like 'what are ya gonna do?'

"Uh...yeah, it is. It started out as a joke, but then it just kinda stuck, and now I honestly don't even notice when she says it, it's so normal" he admits, bright red but honest.

And goddamn if your heart doesn't grow three sizes that day. Cause your boyfriend just admitted in front of his hero that he lets you call him 'babygirl,' and he's definitely embarrassed, but he's trying not to be ashamed of it for your sake. Your grin melts to a soft, adoring smile as you look up at him, reaching for his hand and squeezing it encouragingly.

"You tell him, babygirl."

-

AHHH okay I'm so sorry I don't know WHY I couldn't get this idea out of my head thank you for humoring me. I wrote this on my phone in like half an hour so I know it's pretty sloppy and I know it's very dumb but for some reason it was one of the first thoughts I had after seeing the movie 😭

[bizarrelovetriangel]

missing you.

mdni. 18+ only. not for the kids, pls look away. male masturbation. panty sniffing. pillow humping. pervy caleb. caleb and reader/mc are in a relationship.

hello i'm joining caleb-the-panty-sniffer club and this is my contribution. please enjoy.

inspired by these arts: x, x, x

You were out of town for hunters business, and Caleb volunteered to check up on your house. While he's at it, might as well do some cleaning too.

But he gets a little distracted.

Last week, during your video call, you mentioned to Caleb that your team has been requested to go to a certain city that's been having Wanderer problems. The mission is estimated to last for about five to seven days, and you expressed concern about your newest plants that require to be watered at least every two to three days, which might die without your care.

So of course, Caleb is there to take away your worries. He promised to go to Linkon City in the middle of the week to make sure your plants get the nutrients they need.

Now here he is, inside your apartment's living room, putting away the objects that you'd left scattered all over the place. He imagined you putting things in your luggage at the very last minute before leaving for your trip. You've always done that when you were younger, and it seems old habits die hard.

Back when you were little, once you finish shoving plushies in your bag, deeming them to be absolutely necessary, you'd come to him so he can help you close the zippers.

This time, you didn't forget to take your plushies either. The Sunny Apple that he won with you at the claw machine was gone, which means it's probably keeping you company right now. The thought of you cuddling with the grumpy-looking apple puts a smile on his face.

After watering your plants, Caleb moved on to cleaning the kitchen. Your place isn't really messy; there are just several objects that were out of place, so there's not much work for him.

The last area that he took care of was the bedroom, where he will be sleeping for the rest of the week. The moment he entered your room, he was consumed by the smell of your signature perfume. If he were to close his eyes, it would feel as if you were there.

The scent also made him feel lonely. It's been days since he last saw you, as both of your jobs robbed you of each other's physical presence. Fortunately, once you return from your hunting trip, you two get to spend a few days together, so he's looking forward to it.

Caleb studied the collage of personal pictures you have on the wall, not too far from your nightstand. A lot of them are you and him from various age, a couple are of you and Zayne, plus a recent one with Caleb between you and the doctor.

There are also photographs of you with your coworkers, including the silver-haired guy that you're often partnered with. In all the group pictures, he's always, always next to you.

He's the one that's seeing all the cute expressions you're making right now.

Caleb shakes the jealous thoughts out of his head and lies down on your bed. It's the afternoon, just around the time for the sun to set. He's not sleepy at all, but the warmth and softness of your bed, combined with your fragrant scent, is just so alluring, his body was obligated to sink into it.

"Hmm? What's this?"

Caleb's left hand got a hold of something that you'd forgotten to either put in your luggage or put in the dirty laundry.

Something soft.

Something red.

His fingers grasped the material and held it above his face so he could see what it is.

"Ah...."

His face instantly feels warm at the sight of your underwear. Red panties.

He had seen you wear this before. He also remembers, quite vividly, him sliding it off your legs before pressing his lips and tongue at your core like a starving predator.

He rememebered how you felt. How you tasted.

His mouth watered.

His cock hardened.

His fingers twitched as he lowered his hand towards his face. Caleb closed his eyes and pressed the panty against his nose.

"Fuck..."

His other hand rose to his chest as heat from his rushing blood spread across his body, down to his stomach, through his hips, and pooled between his thighs.

His mind replayed the memory of you resting your back against the bed's headboard, your fingers tangled through his hair while his face is buried between your thighs.

Caleb rubbed his cock over his gray sweatpants, thinking of the face you make as his tongue drives you on edge.

He took another whiff of the red underwear and stained his own boxers as he become even more aroused.

His hips thrusted up as he stroke himself faster, pretending it was your hand that was touching him.

He pictured your mouth around his cock, cheeks flushed, eyes filled with lust as they flicker back to his, making sure he was feeling good. Your eyes would get teary when he'd lose restraints and put himself deeper in your mouth.

A groan comes out between his lips. He pulled down his sweatpants and boxers, smearing his pre-cum all over his aching cock before running his hand up and down, slowly, just like how you like to start and finish.

He needed you, so bad. But you weren't there.

He was surrounded by your scent.

He was on your bed.

Licking his lips, Caleb turned over and buried his face on one of your pillows.

He grinds his cock on your bedsheet, imagining that you were underneath him, crying out his name with pleasure with your honeyed voice that he'll never get tired of hearing even in the after life.

"N- not enough.... it's not enough..." He was pumping his cock while humping your bed, yet he was only getting harder.

It feels like he was going to burst but couldn't.

Caleb threw off his shirt as the sweat from all his movement and body heat made his clothes uncomfortably stuck to his skin.

Despite his tensed body, his hold on your underwear was gentle, as if it was your actual body.

He sniffed the red panty once again before moving it down to his lips. His tongue ran over the crotch, and his cock throbbed. He could almost taste you, as if you were actually there.

He whispered your name with desperation, right hand grasping the bedsheet, needing to feel you against him.

Letting out a ragged breath, he took another pillow and placed it under his hips. Caleb closed his eyes and a moan escapes his lips at the friction.

He immediately set a brutal pace, rutting against your pillow while his closed eyes sees your figure, taking him in deep and tight. You're scratching his back and mewling against his ear as he pounds into you so hard that the world is shaking.

Sweat causes his body to glisten while your bed quakes from all of his movements.

He didn't - or rather, couldn't, silence his moans as the red fabric was wrapped around his cock. He ran it up and down before spreading it over the pillow and grinding against it.

It wasn't you, but it still felt heavenly.

"Fuck. fuck.... so good..."

He was close.

Faster. Harder.

Caleb increased his speed on humping your bed, feeling his body tightening up.

Ring ring ring.

"W- what?!"

He jumped at the sound of his own phone ringing. Someone was calling him. More importantly, it was the special ringtone for you.

Luckily, it wasn't a video call. He'd usually prefer a video call so he can see your lovely face, no matter the time of the day, but today.... might not be a good idea.

"F-fuck." He was absolutely not in the right state to talk to you clearly.

Decline?

No, he couldn't.

He could never.

"Heya, pip-squeak," he breathes out slowly, carefully, as if his heart isn't racing. "Missed me already?" he asks playfully, as if he wasn't the one that was fucking your panties right now.

"Yeah, I do. I have to hold my bags by myself because Caleb isn't around."

"So nice to hear that you're thinking about me." He grins, while his hips continued to move with caution so you wouldn't detect any of the lewd noises he was making.

"Well, yeah.... I do miss you, Caleb." you replied softly, setting the jokes aside. "I'm so far away from Linkon. It's so different here, and it just feels lonely. I guess I'm just feeling homesick..."

You're feeling homesick and you're thinking of him. It's just like when he goes to Skyhaven. He was always thinking of you. The one that he comes home to.

"Caleb..."

The way you said his name caused his stomach to flutter, and his cock to twitch.

Fuck.

Your voice.

"Caleb."

"Mhmmmm..."

With your panty wrapped around his cock, he thrusted deeply into the pillow as if was you. Over and over and over again.

"Caleb..."

He's so close.

Faster.

Deeper.

"Caleb?"

The bed was shaking and screeching from how hard he was going. He'd forgotten about everything.

"Hnnngg,,,"

"Caleb!"

Not a second after you called out his name, Caleb reached his climax. The panty was shoved in his mouth to muffle out the whimpers that fell from his drooling mouth.

He came hard, all over your pillow and spilled onto the bedsheet, some in his hips and stomach.

"Caleb?"

His eyes opened widely as if he'd just woken up from a trance. "Yes, honey?"

"Are you okay? Did you hear what I said? Are you busy?"

He gulped. "I'm good, pip-squeak. I'm already at your place, just... cleaning up, so that it's all nice and pretty when you get back in two days. You should hurry back or else your plants might die from missing you too much."

"Just my plants? You don't miss me?"

On, you have no idea.

"Hmph. I guess I won't give you any of the souvenirs I bought for you."

You are so cute and so precious.

He wants to kiss you so badly.

"Why don't you come home so you can see out how badly I need you..... next to me..." he adds the last part quickly.

Caleb could practically hear you smile at the other line, causing the ends of his own lips to curl up with joy, eyes brightening as he thinks of your face.

"I'm coming home soon. Wait for me, Caleb."

"I'll wait for as long as you need me."

Once the call ended, Caleb sighs loudly and slumps on the bed, wincing at the wet mess he made.

Now he has even more cleaning up to do.

///////

You paused as you entered your bedroom after enjoying the brunch that Caleb cooked for you upon your arrival at your sweet home.

"You changed my bedsheets?"

"It was starting to get a little dusty. You're welcome."

[vibelladonna]

❛ 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒 𝓍 𝑔𝓃! 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Crowe has been working himself into the ground dealing with the never-ending mountain of student council paperwork, ridiculous club requests, and—worst of all—the ever-demanding student council president. 

You've begged him, time and time again, to get an assistant, but of course, he refuses. Something about ‘not trusting anyone’ and ‘preferring to suffer in silence’ like some kind of tragic protagonist. So, naturally, you took matters into your own hands. if Crowe won’t take care of himself? Well, you’ll just have to do it for him.

Even if it means driving him absolutely insane in the process.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: this was a request from anon! so, of course, my dumbass turned it into a full-blown story. MIND YOU, I’VE BEEN STRUGGLING WITH THIS FOR THREE WEEKS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT THE ENDING. And it's not really poof read as I just annoyed looking at it but i haven’t written crowe in a minute, so here we are.

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: overworked student council vp!crowe, chaotic & teasing assistant!reader, fem body!reader, reader takes no shit, boss/assistant relationship, playful banter, teasing, mutual pining, secret relationship, possessive behavior, possessive crowe, sassy reader, fluff and smut, slow burn (kinda), soft dom!crowe, playful sub!reader, and mutual obsession  

Sooooooo……

What’s an assistant? you should already know

Well, an assistant can be a person who helps someone else—or a device, or a product designed to make life easier. Something you’d been telling Jericho Ichabod—sorry, Crowe, Prince Charming himself—that he desperately needed.  

The campus was alive with its usual midday bustle. From noon to around two, the student center became a chaotic mess of movement and noise. 

The hallways were clogged with students threading through the crowd, half-zipped backpacks slung over shoulders, their conversations weaving together into a dull roar.  The on-campus market beeped and whirred as it spat out overpriced snacks, and groups of friends hovered near the food court, laughing, talking, and shoving each other playfully before heading to their next class.  

None of it really registered with you.  

While the rest of the student body thrived in the high-energy atmosphere, instead, you moved at a different pace—faster and more worried.

Your thoughts were elsewhere as Crowe had been on your mind since the moment Geo had texted you while you were in the middle of your classes. ‘He's stuck with more student council crap,’ as Geo had so eloquently put it.  

That wasn’t surprising. 

Crowe had a habit of stretching himself too thin, juggling responsibilities like it was some kind of sport. But what bothered you wasn’t just the workload—it was that, for all his charm and effortless control, he never let anyone see when it got to him.

You’d planned to meet him for lunch today, a rare breather in the middle of his overbooked schedule, but now you weren’t even sure if he’d bother to eat.  

Annoying.  

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you made your way upstairs toward the student council room. It was tucked away in a quieter part of the building, hidden beside the upper-level seating area where students went to eat lunch away from the main chaos. You’d come straight here after class—your day was already done, but his, knowing him, was far from over.  

And if he thought he could brush this off like everything else? 

Yeah, no. Not happening.

The second you reached the door, the noise from the hallway seemed to dull, like the chaos of the outside world just couldn’t quite reach this space. The air felt heavier here, still in a way that made you hesitate. Even the fluorescent lights above barely made a sound, their low hum swallowed by the quiet. It was almost eerie—like stepping into a place that existed just slightly out of sync with the rest of reality.   

Through the small window on the other door, you spotted him.  

Crowe was hunched over his desk, his shoulders drawn tight with the kind of tension that looked like it had settled there hours ago. His head was bent low, nearly buried in a mountain of papers that had practically taken over his entire workspace.

 It wasn’t just a mess—it was a battlefield of assignments, reports, and hastily scribbled sticky notes, some half-crumpled, others barely hanging on. His usual easygoing energy was nowhere in sight. Instead, there was only this heavy, rigid focus that clung to him like a weight.   

His fingers drummed against the desk in a steady, repetitive rhythm—soft, but insistent. You’d seen him do it before, a nervous habit, a tell he probably wasn’t even aware of. The sight of him like this, so unlike himself, made something sink in your chest.

The usual spark in his eyes—the one filled with humor, mischief, that unmistakable Crowe charm—was nowhere to be found. 

Instead, he just looked… drained.  

You hovered in the doorway, unsure whether to step inside or leave him be. Before you could decide, the sound of approaching footsteps pulled you from your thoughts.  

Turning your head, you spotted Geo strolling down the hall, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket. His expression was that signature mix of exasperation and indifference he always seemed to wear, like he was perpetually caught between amusement and suffering.

As he reached you, he let out a deep sigh—whether it was for dramatic effect or genuine exhaustion, it was impossible to tell. 

“He’s been at it since, like, forever,” Geo muttered, jerking his chin toward the window without breaking his stride. His boots scuffed lightly against the floor as he came to a stop beside you, one shoulder propped lazily against the doorframe. 

The bad lighting light from inside the office cast long shadows across his face, but the slight furrow in his brow was still obvious. “Pretty sure he hasn’t even looked up once. Council’s been dumping a mountain of work on him lately.”  

You followed his gaze to the desk across the room. Crowe sat hunched over a chaotic spread of papers, ink stains dotting his fingers as he scribbled something with near-frantic precision.

Again, the lighting itself was casting sharp angles against the exhaustion clinging to him. His normally neat braid was barely form together—stray strands falling into his face, but he didn’t seem to notice.  

Your frown deepened. “He hasn’t even taken a break?”  

Geo let out a short, exasperated scoff, shaking his head. “Please. When does Jericho ever ask for help? He’s as stubborn as a damn mule when it comes to work—worse, even. Dude acts like taking a breather is some kind of mortal sin.” He tilted his head toward the office, his voice dipping into something dangerously close to concern, though he tried to keep it casual. “I mean, just look at him. He’s running on fumes. Won’t be long before he passes out face-first into those papers.”  

Something twisted uncomfortably in your chest as you studied Crowe. He was always the composed one, the one who had everything under control—even when he didn’t.

But right now? Right now, he just looked... weighed down. Buried under the sheer amount of responsibility he refused to share with anyone else.  

Geo nudged you lightly with his elbow, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You should probably go snap him out of it before he actually fuses with that desk,” he said, tone dry but not unkind. “Just... don’t expect him to admit he needs it.”  

You inhaled quietly before stepping forward, your footsteps barely making a sound on the polished floor. Crowe didn’t react, too absorbed in whatever he was working on. Up close, the signs of his exhaustion were even clearer—dark circles under his deep blue eyes, tension carved into his shoulders, the pencil awkwardly tucked behind his ear like some absentminded afterthought.  

You lingered just long enough to take it all in before leaning down and knocking your knuckles lightly against the wooden desk. “Knock, knock,” you said, keeping your tone light. “It’s me—your lunch date-slash-concerned friend, here to drag you out of your impending paper-induced demise.”  

For the first time in what felt like hours, Crowe blinked and finally looked up. His eyes, wide and unfocused for a split second, darted around in mild panic before recognition settled in, dulling the shock. He blinked sluggishly, like he was dragging himself out of some deep, paper-induced trance, before exhaling through his nose and shifting his gaze back to the disaster zone that was his desk.  

“Oh. Hey,” he mumbled, voice scratchy from what was probably hours of silence. “Didn’t see you there.”  

“Yeah, no kidding. You were about five more minutes away from fusing with these papers.” You crossed your arms, tilting your head as you gave him a once-over. His posture was stiff, shoulders hunched in that telltale way that screamed exhaustion, and the dark circles under his eyes looked even worse up close. “Are you even taking a break? Or let me guess—‘I’m fine, I’ll finish soon,’ right?”  

He mustered up something that might’ve been a smile in another life, but now it just looked strained, like his face wasn’t quite up to the task. “I’m fine,” he said—right on cue. “I’m just trying to catch up. There’s a lot to do... I’ll finish soon.”  

You gave him a flat, unimpressed stare. “Geo ratted you out,” you informed him, watching as his eye twitched just slightly. “Says you’ve been glued to this desk all morning. So unless you’ve suddenly figured out how to cram ten hours of work into two, I’m calling total BS.”  

Crowe opened his mouth, either to deny or argue—probably both—but you were already moving, plopping yourself onto the edge of his desk without waiting for an invitation. Papers crinkled beneath you, but honestly? He had too many to begin with.   

“Alright,” you announced, clapping your hands together. “New plan. I’m your assistant now. Consider me officially hired.”  

His brows furrowed, somewhere between confused and mildly alarmed. “What?”  

“You heard me.” You grinned, reaching for the nearest folder. “If you won’t take a break, I’m gonna help you power through this so you can. Think of me as your unpaid intern—but better-looking and way more fun to be around.”

Crowe thrust out a hand like a human stop sign, his usual smooth-talking charm dimming under the weight of sheer, soul-crushing exhaustion. “I don’t need an assistant,” he grumbled, voice teetering on the edge of a breakdown. “And definitely not one who thinks ‘alphabetical order’ is a conspiracy theory.”  

You scoffed, waving him off like an irritating fly. “Oh, come on. Filing is just alphabet soup but with extra steps. Besides, it’s either this, or I start making the most obnoxious noises known to mankind until you surrender and flee this room.”  

Crowe stared at you. Hard. You could practically see the internal debate waging behind his tired eyes. He wanted to fight back, to assert some semblance of authority in his own workspace, but let’s be real—he didn’t have the energy for that. 

After what felt like an eternity of silent suffering, he let out a long, suffering sigh, the kind that screamed, ‘I have officially given up on life.’ He dragged a hand down his face. “Fine,” he muttered in defeat. “But don’t touch anything important unless I told you.”  

“Relax,” you chirped, already rifling through a stack of papers with the confidence of someone who absolutely should not be trusted with paperwork. “I’ve got this. What’s the worst that could happen?”  

The worst did happen.  

Many times in fact.

You just didn’t realize it until it was too late.

By the time two weeks had passed, it was like you had unknowingly signed a blood pact with Crowe—minus the actual blood, but definitely with the same level of inescapable obligation. Somehow, without fully realizing how it happened, you had been roped into the prestigious yet completely unpaid role of Crowe’s unofficial official assistant.

Like clockwork, as soon as your classes wrapped up for the day, there you were—reporting for duty like some poor soul enlisted in a student council boot camp, minus the combat training but with twice the paperwork.  

And the workload? 

Oh, it was something else. 

You couldn't make this up if you tried. The sheer volume of tasks dumped on Crowe was enough to make you question whether the entire campus had collectively mistaken him for their personal secretary.

Student club events? His problem. Fraternity and sorority requests? Yup, tossed onto his ever-growing pile. Small-time guest speakers, whose only real compensation was probably free coffee and a handshake? Also somehow his responsibility.  

At one point, you found yourself holding a stack of papers detailing plans for a campus-wide "stress-relief yoga night," and you very nearly asked if Crowe had been secretly elected mayor of the university while you weren’t looking.  

And, because you were clearly a genius with absolutely no impulse control, you had, at some point, volunteered to help him with all of it.

Cleaning up his disaster of a desk? You were on it. Sprinting across campus to drop off forms like some kind of academic carrier pigeon? Already flapping your metaphorical wings. Sitting through excruciating planning meetings for student events? 

Sure, why not? It’s not like watching Crowe argue with five sorority reps over whether they could hold a ‘glow-in-the-dark karaoke night’ in the ‘library’ was a fever dream you ever expected to have—but here you were, living it.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out that Crowe wasn’t just overburdened—he was the burden. A walking, talking monument to suffering.  

“Hey, uh, question,” you said one afternoon, dumping yet another stack of papers onto his already paper-laden desk. You weren’t even sure if there was a desk under there anymore, or if Crowe just sat upon a sacred altar of unfinished paperwork. “How many of these events actually needto go through the student council? Like, for real?”  

“All of them,” Crowe said flatly, not even sparing you a glance as he scribbled furiously on some poor soul’s event approval form.  

“No, no, I mean…” You leaned in, lowering your voice as if you were about to drop some grand revelation. “How many actually need to go through you?”  

Crowe finally paused, pen hovering mid-signature as he slowly—painfully slowly—lifted his gaze to meet yours. His expression was the physical embodiment of ‘I will throw you out of this room myself.’  

“All of them,” he repeated, but this time, slower. Like that somehow made it less absurd.  

Sometime later, while you were valiantly battling yet another stack of event proposals—seriously, why were there so many bake sales?—you dramatically collapsed into the chair across from him.  

“So, uh,” you drawled, tossing a paper into the abyss that was Crowe’s inbox, “is this a student council or a circus? Be honest.”  

Crowe didn’t even look up. Didn’t even hesitate.  

“Yes.”

What.

Anyway, somehow, even with all the chaos, you managed to find a rhythm in it all. Cleaning Crowe’s desk became second nature—so much so that you started questioning if you had become some kind of sentient maid. You even unearthed what could only be described as a historical artifact: a half-eaten sandwich wedged between two stacks of papers. Given its fossilized state, you figured it was either from last semester or from the founding days of the school itself.  

Running errands across campus turned into an unintentional workout program. Who needed a gym membership when you were speed-walking between buildings, dodging rogue club recruiters, and carrying stacks of paperwork heavier than your will to live?  

And attending meetings? That became your personal form of entertainment. You even started timing how long it would take before someone made an absolutely insane request—your record was three minutes. The last champion was some guy from the Gardening Club who tried to get funding for a “therapeutic koi pond.” In the middle of the cafeteria.  

Today, though, you and Crowe were actually making progress, discussing the upcoming club events without any major disturbances. A miracle, honestly.  

Then the door slammed open.  

What waltzed was him—the student council president, looking like he had just stepped off a runway and onto your last nerve. He was an upperclassman with the kind of aura that screamed, ‘I was born better than you, and I will remind you every chance I get.’ 

“Ichabod,” he drawled as if merely saying Crowe’s name was a task beneath him. Then, with all the grace of a medieval tax collector, he dumped another towering stack of paperwork onto Crowe’s desk, causing several precariously balanced forms to slide to the floor. “More approvals. Get them done.”  

Crowe had been hunched over, pen in hand, scribbling out what seemed like his last remaining shred of hope. But as soon as the president stormed in, dropping the latest avalanche of paperwork onto the desk, he froze. His hand hovered in the air for a moment—was he about to launch his pen at the door, or was he just letting the despair wash over him? 

You couldn’t tell, but you knew Crowe had just about hit his limit. He closed his eyes briefly. Was he praying? Meditating? Or was he visualizing the sweet, sweet release of just escaping this nightmare by launching himself through the window?

It was hard to say.

You, on the other hand, were getting mildly entertained by the absurdity of the situation. "Wow," you said, blinking at the fresh chaos that had just descended upon the desk. "I didn’t know you were accepting job applications for ‘Official Paperwork Mule.’"

The president—who had somehow magically entered the room without making a sound, like some kind of overpriced ninja—turned his icy gaze on you. He looked you up and down with all the disdain of someone who had just stepped in a puddle of something they’d prefer not to identify, his eyes narrowing like you’d just insulted his firstborn. "Oh, you're still here?" His voice dripped with condescension. "How quaint."

You couldn’t help but grin. You had been waiting for this. "Yep. Unlike the funding you approved for that haunted house event last week." You paused for effect, casually flipping through the pile of forms as if you weren’t even phased. "I suggest you get to it quick, though, before I let the officials know about your… interesting decisions."

Crowe made a noise. It was an odd noise—something between a strangled laugh and a desperate cough. He tried to cover it up, but the damage was done.

The president, however, either completely oblivious or choosing not to dignify your retort with a response, turned back to Crowe with the practiced air of someone who thought his very presence should be worshipped. "This needs to be finished today."

“Of course it does,” Crowe muttered under his breath, already sinking into the depths of his inevitable paperwork doom. You could practically hear the weight of his soul dragging itself down further into the abyss.

The president gave a tight, self-satisfied smile, like he’d just handed down some sort of royal decree, and turned on his heel to exit the room. His steps were as calculated and ridiculous as his whole existence. You couldn’t help but notice his outfit—tailored suit, perfectly polished shoes, and the kind of cologne that probably cost more than your tuition. 

It was almost as if he thought his appearance alone could somehow make him better than everyone else in the room. It was adorable.

He was halfway out the door when you casually called after him, "Hey, by the way—are you wearing that suit to go rescue puppies or attend a high-society funeral?"

The president paused, looking over his shoulder at you with an expression that could’ve been carved into marble. He said nothing, but his eyes briefly flashed with the kind of ‘I’ll ruin you’ look that only the truly entitled could master. 

You, however, weren’t even remotely phased.

"Yeah, I thought so," you added, pushing another pile of forms onto Crowe’s desk. "You’ve got the whole ‘I’m better than everyone’ look down, but next time, maybe try not looking like you belong in a museum." 

Crowe groaned as the door slammed shut, leaving the two of you alone with the mountain of paperwork once more. You sighed, nudging a piece of paper that had somehow escaped the clutches of the abyss. "So… koi pond in the cafeteria is looking less ridiculous by the minute, huh?" 

Crowe didn’t answer.

He was too busy looking like he might spontaneously combust from exhaustion, or maybe just give up on life entirely. You considered offering him a donut or a bucket of coffee, but really, at this point, nothing was going to save him.

“Crowe? You good?” you asked, leaning in closer. His entire posture screamed ‘I’m about to faceplant into this paperwork and never wake up’. You wondered if he was trying to figure out how to escape into the sweet oblivion of the nearest nap corner or if he was plotting his own demise. At this point, it could go either way.

“I’m... fine,” he muttered, but the way his hand slid across the desk in slow motion, like he was having a mental breakdown in real-time, told you everything you needed to know.  

“You sure? You look like you’re one coffee away from crying on a stack of forms."

Crowe groaned, a sound so filled with despair it could’ve been the opening line to a sad indie movie. “I just want to finish one thing today, ‘just one thing,’ without someone handing me more stupid paperwork. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Probably,” you said, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “But, hey, that’s what you signed up for, right? Like, what was your grand plan here? To turn the student council into your own personal administrative hell?”

Crowe shot you a glance that was somewhere between ‘I could kill you’ and ‘Please, for the love of all that’s holy, be quiet.’ You could practically see the little clock in his head ticking down, counting how much longer he could withstand his own existence before he collapsed in the pile of paperwork like some sort of sad, overworked martyr.  

"At least give me a minute to process the chaos." His voice had that exhausted, cracked tone that made you wonder if he’d been functioning on three hours of sleep for the past week.  

You took pity on him. "Alright, alright," you said, grabbing the latest stack of event forms and flipping through them. "Let’s at least start brainstorming for these. I’m guessing half of these are doomed from the start.”

Crowe’s response was a wordless nod, his head still resting on his hand as if that would somehow reboot his brain. It looked like he might pass out at any moment, but somehow, he managed to pull himself back together. Barely.  

"Alright, what's the first one?" you asked, leaning over to get a better look at the next form.  

Crowe’s finger shakily pointed to it. "‘Classical music night... on the roof... with fog machines.’"

You blinked. "I… I don’t even know what to say to that. What, are we trying to summon ghosts now?"

Crowe groaned again. "It’s a real proposal. They want it approved for next week."

"Okay," you said, rubbing your temples. "I think we’re officially past the point of saving this year’s student council. This is just a slow-motion train wreck."

Crowe was too exhausted to even form a proper sentence, his mind clearly whirling through a mental tally of disasters. You could practically see the gears grinding in his head—he was done. It wasn’t clear whether he was about to drop dead or have a full-on emotional meltdown, but either way, the path to recovery was nothing but more paperwork, endless meetings, and a growing sense of doom.

"Here," you said, tossing him a coffee cup with a little too much flair. "You need this more than I do."

Crowe didn’t say a word, just took the cup and stared blankly at his desk. You half expected him to fall asleep standing up, but then he took a long, defeated sip like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. For a moment, you swore you saw him look almost… human again. Though still on the edge of total collapse.  

“Only… five more hours of this shit,” he muttered, voice raw and tired. His words hung in the air like a bad omen, but the way he said it was almost like he was trying to will it into something less awful.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. 

You leaned against the desk—looking over a few documents that Crowe just signed, watching him as he rubbed his temples like he was trying to massage the chaos out of his brain. Then, he took a deep breath and dragged himself to his feet, his movements slow and heavy as if each step took effort.

You stood there, waiting for him to make the move, knowing he was about to drag you both back into the hell that was his office. 

You followed him out to the coffee area just outside Crowe’s office, the place practically empty except for the hum of a few vending machines in the corner. Most people were in class, living their lives while you and Crowe were stuck in this chaotic little bubble of misery together. But honestly, you didn’t mind. Being stuck with Crowe wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

In fact, you might even go so far as to say you kind of liked it—chaos and all. It was weird, but after all the hours spent with him, this was just your rhythm. He was like a broken record, and you were along for the ride. 

Crowe leaned against the the desk beside you, staring out at the empty room, looking just about as done as any human could be without literally face-planting. “Let’s just…” He paused, running a hand through his unbraided hair as if he were trying to shake the tiredness out of his bones. “Finish this,” he muttered, but there was no real conviction behind the words. 

It was more like he was just going through the motions, a man trying to survive one last round of office hell before he collapsed into a pile of paperwork rubble.

You shrugged, leaning a little closer to him, not caring much about the empty room around you. "Yeah, sure. Let’s just get through this so you can collapse into your desk in peace."

Crowe didn’t laugh, but you saw the corner of his lips twitch. It was the closest thing to a smile you’d get today, and that was enough for you. He took another sip of coffee, staring at the distant empty chairs like they were mocking him. Honestly, the whole situation was ridiculous, but if you had to be stuck in this hellish paperwork vortex, you couldn’t think of anyone better to be stuck with.

Despite the avalanche of paperwork, the never-ending meetings, and the constant chaos that seemed to follow Crowe everywhere, there were small, quiet moments when his gratitude actually managed to slip through the cracks.

It wasn’t loud or obvious—no heartfelt speeches or dramatic declarations of appreciation. No, it was more like a fleeting shadow, there one moment and gone the next, but it still spoke volumes.  

It was one of those afternoons when you were buried under yet another mountain of event proposals, flipping through them with all the enthusiasm of a sloth on a caffeine crash. Your eyes had glazed over, the words on the pages blending together into an unintelligible mess of overly ambitious plans and unreasonable requests.

You were pretty sure you could start a new career as a professional paperweight at this point, considering how often you were parked next to Crowe’s desk. But hey, someonehad to keep the chaos in check, right?  

Instead of fighting for your own desk—because, honestly, that would’ve been a lost cause given the sheer size of Crowe’s desk, which could’ve fit a small army and their gear—you'd just claimed a corner of it. You’d made it your own little nook, the edge of his mountain of papers your personal workspace. 

Sure, it was a little unconventional, but considering Crowe's desk practically looked like the inside of an office supply store exploded on it, it made sense. Plus, it was way more fun to pretend you were part of the madness instead of standing on the sidelines.  

So there you were, half-buried in a fresh pile of event forms that had been hastily shoved into your hands the second you walked into the room, flipping through them with the kind of mindless speed that comes from hours of sheer boredom. 

You didn’t even look up, thinking it was just another stray form that had somehow wandered into your orbit. But then you heard it—a soft clink. And when you glanced over, there it was: a steaming cup of tea, perfectly brewed and a small snack, sitting on the edge of his desk as though it had always been meant to be there. 

Crowe didn’t say anything. He didn’t even speak to you.

He just silently placed it down, then you felt his hand on top of your head, planting what felt like kiss on top. Afterwards, he gave you a brief, exhausted glance, and went back to his own paperwork like nothing had happened. As if that tiny, thoughtful gesture wasn’t quietly shifting the entire atmosphere of the room. It was his way of saying, ‘I see you’—without actually saying a word. 

Then there were the rare occasions when you handed him something that, frankly, could have been labeled as a ‘miracle’—like a perfectly organized event schedule, where the scattered mess of dates and details had somehow been magically turned into something resembling order. His eyes would flicker to it for just a second before he’d mutter a quiet, almost begrudging “thanks.” 

The words were always there, but they came out like he was fighting them every step of the way as if the concept of gratitude wasn’t quite his thing. Still, the small nod that followed—something barely noticeable, but unmistakably there—told you everything you needed to know.  

Those little moments were a rarity, but when they happened, they felt like an entire month’s worth of appreciation crammed into a second. No fanfare, no grand speeches—just Crowe, the overworked, underappreciated student council lifeline, showing his gratitude in the most subtle ways possible.

It was like he didn’t know how to say it out loud, but his actions spoke louder than any words could. 

It wasn’t much. But it was enough to keep you going.  

That, and the sheer comedy gold of watching Crowe try—and fail—every time a club proposed something so ridiculous it could’ve been pulled straight from a fever dream. Like the latest masterpiece—a ‘puppies and pizza’ day in the science building. The look on his face when he read that? Priceless. 

It was like watching someone go from a hopeful puppy to a full-on terrified deer caught in headlights. Half of him expected to ask if it was some kind of prank. It wasn’t.

But today?

Today’s mark a day of early freedom 

One of those rare, blessed afternoons where Crowe managed to finish his work before sunset. That alone was enough to make you believe in higher powers—like the universe had decided to give Crowe a break for once. And honestly, you were enjoying it too. 

Crowe seemed... different. Less like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and more like he was just a dude who'd had a good day for once. His hair was actually neat—an anomaly that deserved to be framed and hung in a museum—and his outfit looked like it had been picked out by someone who didn’t live off caffeine and stress. His usual tense, I’m-one-email-away-from-a-breakdown stance was gone, replaced by a more relaxed posture. 

And the best part? That trademark smirk of his wasn’t the usual ‘I’m-exhausted-but-I’ll-pretend-I’m-cool’ look. It was... real. Like he actually meant it. You had to blink a couple of times to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. 

"You know," he started, hands stuffed in his pockets, walking a little lighter than usual. He glanced over at you, his face not quite as guarded as usual, like he was letting his walls down just a little. "You've been a such lifesaver."

You raised an eyebrow, figuring he was about to make some sarcastic remark. But instead, he hesitated for a second, exhaled, and with a tiny shake of his head and a soft half-smile, he added, "I don't think I would've survived without you."

Okay, that? That was huge.

For Crowe, the guy who acted like he had the entire universe under control at all times, admitting that he needed help was like watching a robot suddenly develop emotions. You could tell he meant it, too, judging by the way he looked at you. There was no sarcasm, no defensive wall—just a genuinely appreciative look. And yeah, maybe it made your heart do a weird little skip. 

You coughed to cover up your smile, not wanting to get too sappy about it, but there was no denying the warmth spreading through you. 

"I need to wrap up a few things before I can lock up the student council room," he said, voice steady and calm. "After that... we came to meet at my place?”

You couldn’t help it. Your lips twitched into a grin, arms crossed, watching him with an amused glint in your eye. "Wow, Crowe, are you suggesting a private date?"

The reaction was instant.  

His eyes widened, and for the first time, you swore you saw the faintest hint of color dusting his cheeks—a slightly deeper shade against his usual warm brown complexion. Just for a second before his usual playful demeanor slid back into place. He let out a half-laugh, half-grumble. "It’s not a date," he muttered, though you could tell he was trying not to smile. "Just... you know. A thing."

"Uh-huh. Sure, a thing," you teased, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I mean, if ‘things’ include pizza and not having to talk about student council for once, I’ll consider it.” 

He rolled his eyes, but that little real smirk was back again. "You’re impossible."

"Yeah, but you love it," you shot back with a grin.

Crowe let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head at himself. “You’re such a tease.” 

You tilted your head, your smirk widening. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  

His deadpan stare told you he definitely knew exactly what you were doing. You could practically hear the thoughts running through his mind: I know you’re trying to distract me with that nonsense, but it’s not going to work.

But instead of entertaining your antics, he let out a long exhale, like the weight of the world had just landed on his shoulders, and straightened up. His hands moved quickly to gather the last of his papers, that familiar rhythm of someone who’d been in a constant state of ‘paperwork battle’ for way too long.  

"I’ll be done in a bit,” he muttered, glancing at the clock, looking like he was calculating the exact time when he could finally escape the clutches of his responsibilities. “Shouldn’t take long. Just… come to my place, please.”  

The way he said it was almost a plea, like he was clinging to the last shred of hope that you would save him from his own self-imposed chaos. There was something in the way his voice dropped, that quiet vulnerability that even Crowe couldn’t hide when he was completely overwhelmed. 

He didn’t ask for help. Ever. 

But right now, it seemed like he couldn’t bear to be alone with all that paperwork for even another minute. 

Without even thinking, you stepped forward, about to throw out some joke or tease him, but before you could, his hand shot out, fingers lightly brushing against yours, like he was desperately reaching for something, anything to ground him.  

You froze, blinking at the unexpected contact. Crowe’s hand lingered there for a moment, not quite holding yours, but not pulling away either. His gaze met yours for just a second—there was something there, a flicker of something deeper than just the usual exhausted annoyance.

“I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, his voice a little quieter, a little more raw than you were used to hearing.

Your heart skipped a beat, and it took everything in you to resist the urge to give him the classic ‘it’s fine, we’re cool’ smile. But you could see it—he was yearning for just a little bit of peace, a little bit of support. 

Maybe more than he’d ever admit.

So, you squeezed his hand, just a little, before giving him a half-smirk. "Don't worry, Crowe. You’ll survive. Just don't expect me to help every time you feel like a nervous wreck." You smiled, slowly walking away. “I’ll gonna go change. See you later.” 

His lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything else, only shaking his head as he returned to his work. You turned on your heel, heading out of the student center with an extra pep in your step. Whether he meant it as a date or not, he still invited you over.  

And that was definitely something to work with.  

With that, you made a break for it, finally escaping the chaos of the student council room. You decided to take the scenic route back to your apartment—aka a detour to your place to freshen up a little. Nothing too extravagant, just a little something to feel less like a walking disaster.  

You slipped into your long-flare yoga pants, because, let's be honest, they were basically good thin material and nobody could judge you for that. You paired them with a long tank top and layered it with a cropped graphic tee that you’d definitely cut at the shoulder yourself for that ‘I woke up like this’ off-the-shoulder look. 

Sure, it looked like you couldn’t be bothered to try, but you weren’t heading to a red carpet event—just to Crowe’s place to eat dinner. Who needed to look cute when you were about to inhale your body weight in food, right?  

You kept your hairstyle in check, though—that was the one thing you weren't willing to sacrifice. A little effort to at least pretend you had it together. And the earrings? Oh, the earrings were a must. They hung from your ears like delicate little reminders that you were, in fact, capable of caring about something.

Maybe not your best outfit, but its’s something.  

Before heading back out, you made a pit stop in the kitchen to grab a small blueberry cheesecake from your favorite bakery. The one where the guy behind the counter always slid an extra smile your way whenever you came in, like he was secretly rooting for you to get that slice of dessert joy. 

You grabbed it like a pro, but this wasn’t just any cheesecake. Oh, no. This was the kind of cheesecake that required ID verification because they had to make sure you were worthy of its glory.  

It was rich, creamy, and topped with a glossy layer of blueberry wine reduction that probably had magical properties. Or at least, that’s what you liked to tell yourself. You figured the extra indulgence might help Crowe decompress a little, so, like a good friend, you were willing to go the extra mile.  

“Maybe it’ll help Crowe unwind,” you mumbled to yourself, adjusting the strap of your bag before heading out. “Not that he’d admit to it. He probably thinks ‘relaxing’ is a dirty word.”  

You snorted at the thought. Crowe would probably rather eat a salad than admit he was anything less than an overworked machine. But hey, everyone deserves a little luxury now and then, right? Even if that luxury was blueberry cheesecake and a very reluctant attempt at unwinding.

The walk to Crowe’s place was mercifully short, tucked just on the edge of campus. The air was crisp, carrying the lingering chill of the evening, and the faint glow of his windows stood out against the dimming sky.

It was a modest place—large, practical, the kind of space that was meant for luxury rather than convenience. But the moment you spotted the faint flicker of movement inside, a shuffle of shadow passing by the window, you knew he was home.  

You hesitated for just a second before knocking.  

Part of you hoped—no, expected—that when he answered the door, he’d look at least a little more relaxed than he had earlier. Maybe the stiffness in his shoulders would be gone. Maybe he’d be in something softer, a hoodie instead of that ever-present button-up. Maybe—dare you dream—he’d actually be smiling.  

But when the door swung open, it was immediately clear that reality had other plans.  

Crowe stood in the doorway, his hair once again was an absolute wreck—not the effortless kind of messy that turned heads, but the kind that screamed, ‘I’ve run my hands through it too many times out of frustration.’ A furrow was etched deep between his brows, and his usual sharp posture was stiff like he was physically bracing against the weight of his responsibilities.

And—oh, fantastic—a folder was tucked under his arm, looking as though it had permanently fused to him at this point.  

You exhaled through your nose. Of course.

Yet, despite the exhaustion written all over him, something in his expression softened when he registered it was you at the door. The tightness in his shoulders didn’t fully disappear, but there was the faintest tug of a smile at the corners of his lips—tired but real.  

“What’s with the face?” you asked dryly, raising an eyebrow as he stepped aside, silently motioning you in.  

“I’m fine,” he replied automatically, the words so robotic and rehearsed that you almost laughed.  

“Right. And I’m the student council president,” you deadpanned, stepping inside and crossing your arms. “You look like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. Again.”  

“Funny thing about the student council president,” Crowe muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he shut the door behind you. “It turns out he can, and will, dump work on me at all hours. Apparently, I’m not allowed to have a life outside any paperwork.”  

Crowe allowed you inside, leading you up the sleek, polished staircase to his bedroom. As he pushed open the door, you were immediately struck by how effortlessly luxurious it felt—like stepping into a five-star suite rather than your living space.  

The room was spacious, barely lit by the warm glow of a single overhead light and a tall, modern floor lamp near his desk. The walls were painted a deep, muted blue, the color rich yet understated. But it was the bed that truly caught your attention—elaborate and inviting, draped in dark blue satin sheets that gleamed subtly under the soft lighting.

The bedding was pristine and neatly arranged with thick pillows and a comforter that looked like it belonged in a high-end catalog rather than a broke college student apartment.  

And yet, despite the undeniable elegance of the space, the desk against the far wall told a completely different story.  

Stacked with an obscene number of papers, open binders, and what you were pretty sure was the same coffee cup from this morning, his desk looked like a war zone of responsibilities. A sleek laptop sat open, its screen casting a faint glow over the scattered documents, and a small, gold-rimmed clock ticked quietly beside a stack of folders. 

The faint scent of ink and paper lingered in the air, mixing with the rich undertones of expensive cologne and the barely-there scent of cedarwood. The place had the distinct feel of someone who had been trapped inside for far too long—like a space meant for relaxation had been forcibly converted into an office.  

And honestly? That pissed you off a little.

You turned back to him with an unimpressed look, arms crossed as he carelessly tossed his folder onto the desk. “You invited me to hang out, and now you’re telling me I’m supposed to just sit here while you work?”  

“I’ll multitask,” he said with a faint smirk, already lowering himself into the sleek, leather chair at his desk like that settled the matter.  

You let out an exaggerated sigh, setting your bag down on the small couch tucked into the corner of the room. Of course, even his couch was high-end—dark velvet with a few neatly arranged cushions, barely touched, like it was there for decoration rather than actual use.  

“Unbelievable,” you muttered. “What a great person you are. Let me guess, next you’re going to ask me to fetch you coffee?”  

Crowe didn’t look up, but you caught the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “If you’re offering.”  

You rolled your eyes before reaching into your bag and pulling out the carefully packed cheesecake you had brought. With deliberate flair, you set it on the small wooden table near the couch, ensuring the movement was just noticeable enough to break Crowe’s focus.  

And to your satisfaction, it worked.  

From his place at the desk, Crowe’s eyes flicked up, momentarily distracted from the mountain of papers in front of him. His gaze landed on the dessert, his brow raising slightly. “Is that… blueberry cheesecake?” 

You shot him a smug grin. “It is. And not just any cheesecake—blueberry wine-glazed cheesecake. Only the best.” 

Crowe’s lips twitched, almost forming a real smile, but as his gaze flicked back to the cheesecake, hesitation crept into his expression. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Wait… you said wine-glazed?”  

You raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was going. “Yeah? It’s just a glaze, Crowe. It’s not like I’m trying to get you drunk off dessert.”  

He exhaled, glancing between you and the cheesecake as if debating whether he should risk it. “Still…” His fingers tapped idly against the arm of his chair. “…I don’t know if I should.”  

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face before throwing him an exasperated look. “Crowe. It’s cheesecake. Not a bottle of aged whiskey.”  

His eyes narrowed slightly, but the reluctant amusement in them told you he wasn’t completely opposed. He just wanted to be difficult.  

“You’re seriously overthinking this,” you added, crossing your arms. “One bite won’t turn you into a lawless delinquent, I promise. It’s just something to help you relax for once.”  

Crowe exhaled slowly, glancing at the dessert once more before shaking his head with a smirk. “Sorry but no, I need to work—because if I suddenly start making reckless decisions, it’s your fault.”  

“Oh, please.” With a scoff, you pushed yourself up from the plush velvet couch, smoothing your hands over the soft fabric before stretching lazily. “I’ll be right back.” Crowe barely acknowledged your movement, too focused on whatever tedious task he was drowning in.  

Perfect.  

You slipped out of his bedroom, padding down the sleek hallway and down the grand staircase that led to the main floor. The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint ticking of an ornate grandfather clock positioned near the entrance. Of course, he had something so unnecessarily extravagant in his house. You shook your head, making your way toward the kitchen.  

And, unsurprisingly, even his kitchen looked like it belonged in some high-end interior design magazine—black marble countertops, dark mahogany cabinets, and sleek, modern appliances that gleamed under the warm glow of overhead lighting. The air carried the faintest scent of coffee, no doubt from whatever caffeine-fueled disaster had taken place earlier that morning.  

You pulled open a drawer, rummaging through its neatly arranged contents until you found the gold forks—because, of course, even his utensils were unnecessarily fancy, polished to a pristine shine. You hesitated for a second, eyeing the wine bottle in your other hand. You could technically be a menace and grab another fork just for him, despite his earlier protests, just to see if he’d cave.  

A slow smirk curled at your lips as you picked up another fork and then made your way back upstairs.  

By the time you reentered Crowe’s bedroom, he was exactly as you left him—hunched over his desk, a hand buried in his long brown tousled hair, muttering something under his breath as he scribbled furiously onto a page. His laptop cast a faint glow across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, and the way his brows furrowed with quiet frustration.  

You shook your head in fond exasperation, setting the forks onto the small wooden table—top of a paper towel near the couch with deliberate flair. The sound of metal forks against wood was just loud enough to pull his attention away from whatever crisis was currently occupying his mind.  

His gaze flickered to you, then to the newly placed items, and finally, to the bottle of wine you were already uncorking with far too much enthusiasm.  “You don’t take ‘no cake for me’ seriously, do you?” he asked dryly, watching as you handed him a fork, which he took. You raised an eyebrow, swirling the liquid slowly before taking a deliberate sip. “Oh, I heard you,” you mused. “I just chose to ignore it.”  

Crowe exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly, but there was no real irritation in his expression—if anything, the corners of his lips twitched upward, like he was fighting off a smile.  

You handed him a fork, gesturing toward the cheesecake. “Now, be a good boy and eat before I start burning your paperwork.”  

That earned you a full, amused huff of laughter. “You wouldn’t.”  

“Oh, I would,” you said smugly, already reaching for the nearest document with mischief glinting in your eyes.  

And just like that, for the first time that evening, Crowe finally relented. With a quiet sigh of defeat, he grabbed his fork, cutting into the cheesecake with a small shake of his head.  

“Happy now?” he muttered, bringing a bite to his lips.  

You grinned, raising your fork in victory. “Ecstatic.”  

Later on, You ended up sitting in Crowe’s bed, which, honestly, wasn’t part of the original plan. You’d offered—very generously, might you add—to just sit on the floor, but Crowe wasn’t having it. And of course, that turned into a whole thing. A full-blown back-and-forth argument that went nowhere because, shocker, Crowe won.

So now here you were, cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through your phone while eating cheesecake like it was just another day.

Meanwhile, Crowe was buried in paperwork, signing off on whatever ridiculous event proposals students had cooked up this time.

Between the scribbling of his pen and the occasional tap of your phone screen, the two of you fell into an easy rhythm of conversation—nothing deep, just the usual random nonsense that somehow never failed to keep things interesting. 

You could say literally the most out-of-pocket thing, and Crowe would have an opinion on it. 

“You think pigeons ever feel bad about stealing people’s food?” 

“No. They’re menaces.” 

“What about geese?” 

“Demons in feathered form.” 

It went on like that for a while, but then, out of nowhere, Crowe, still focused on his paperwork, casually muttered, “If you end up drunk, you can stay here.” 

You blinked, glancing up from your phone. “Huh?” 

“I have hangover pills for situations like these,” he added as if that was just normal information to throw out there. 

You squinted at him, completely lost as last time you checked—he didn’t drink. “Crowe, sir, what the hell do you have those for?” 

He didn’t even hesitate. “They’re normally for my mother.” 

Oh. 

…Well damn. That changed the vibe.  

You suddenly found a very interesting spot on the wall to look at, your brain screaming at you to not ask any follow-up questions. Just let it slide, move on, talk about geese again— 

“…How come?” Damn it.

Crowe paused mid-signature, his pen hovering over the paper for a second too long. He didn’t immediately answer, which only made the air feel heavier. You shifted a little on his bed, suddenly regretting asking. But at the same time, you had to know. 

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, setting his pen down and leaning back slightly. “She’s a businesswoman,” he said simply like that explained everything.  

It kind of did.  

You nodded slowly. “Ah. So… business meetings, long nights, expensive wine, and regrettable choices?”  

“Basically,” he said, rubbing his temple. “She doesn’t get wasted often, but when she does, it’s always a mess. It’s better to just have something on hand so she doesn’t call me at two in the morning complaining about a headache and demanding I fix it.” 

You raised an eyebrow, resting your chin in your hand. “So what I’m hearing is… you’re the designated babysitter for your mom when she goes too hard on the fancy liquor.” 

Crowe gave you a flat look. “I wouldn’t call it that.”  

“But I would.” You grinned, taking another bite of your cheesecake. “Imagine that. Big, serious Crowe, the man who runs student council like a military operation, reduced to fetching electrolyte drinks and aspirin for his drunk mom.”  

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly like he was reevaluating all his life choices. “You are so lucky I tolerate you.”  

“Tolerate? Please. You’d be bored out of your mind without me.”  

Crowe rolled his eyes, but you didn’t miss the way the corner of his lips almost twitched up. Almost. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”  

You smirked, then gestured toward his desk. “Speaking of you tolerating me, when are you actually gonna stop working? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve been signing papers for the last hour and I’m starting to think you might be stuck in an endless loop.”  

“I’ll be done when I’m done,” he muttered, flipping to the next page.  

You squinted at him. “Liar. You never finish. The work just keeps coming.”  

Crowe didn’t deny it. He just let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple again. You could tell he was exhausted but too damn stubborn to stop.  

So, naturally, you had to push a little.  

“Y’know,” you started, setting your plate aside and stretching out on his bed dramatically, “I’m not a heavy drinker. I won’t get drunk.”

Crowe quickly said, “That’s what you said last time.”

“Blame Britt, she needed someone to take shots with at that club.” You sighed, “But If I look drunk, there’s a chance I might be pretending.” You mentioned. “Why,” Crowe asked. “…I’ll be able to get the tender loving care of a certain man.”

Crowe somewhat blushed, then added. “And If I’m the one who gets drunk, will you look after me? Or will you let me fend for myself?”

“Ehhh, that depends. What kind of drunk are you?” You gave Crowe a pointed look, lazily kicking your legs back and forth. “’Cause remember when Britt got wasted after we passed our exams and threw up in the car?” You grimaced at the memory. “Still sorry about that, by the way.”

Crowe, who had been signing something, paused and flicked his eyes up at you. “There are different types of drunk?”

You snorted. “Uh, yeah. There are levels to this, Crowe.” You started counting on your fingers. “Tipsy, somewhat affectionate—y’know, the giggly, slightly dumb but still functioning stage. Then there’s a buzz, which is what I usually am. A nice little warm feeling, maybe a little too honest, but still got control.”

Crowe raised an eyebrow. “And then?”

“Oh, it just gets worse from there.” You grinned. “There’s sloshed, where your words start slurring, and you start thinking you can dance when, in reality, you cannot.” You pointed at him. “Britt was sloshed. Then there’s blacked out, which—self-explanatory. Bad decisions are made. Regret is guaranteed.”

Crowe hummed, going back to his papers. “Lovely.”

“Oh, we’re not done,” you continued, thoroughly enjoying this. “Then you got aggressive drunks—you know, the ones who suddenly wanna fight everyone, including their own reflection. Confident drunks, which are honestly my favorite ‘cause they act like they own the place and think they’re hot shit. Sad drunks—kinda self-explanatory. They cry about their ex, their childhood, or how the bartender didn’t smile at them enough.”

Crowe sighed like he already regretted indulging this conversation. “And?”

“The two everyone really looks out for are lightweights and heavyweights.” You leaned forward a little, smirking. “I used to be somewhere in the middle, but, uh… college happened. And Britt happened. So now I’m lowkey more of a heavyweight.”

Crowe set his pen down and gave you that look. The one that was half disappointed professor, half exasperated parent. “Really.”

You shrugged. “What can I say? I build tolerance fast.”

Crowe pinched the bridge of his nose. “That is not something to be proud of.”

You waved him off. “Anyway, what about you? Heavyweight or lightweight?” You already knew the answer, but you wanted to hear him say it.

Crowe let out a slow breath, glancing at you like he was debating whether to humor you or just ignore you entirely. Then, with a sigh, he muttered, “I have work to do.”

You gasped dramatically. “Avoiding the question? That means you’re a lightweight, doesn’t it?”

He didn’t respond.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, grinning. “Crowe, do you get tipsy off one drink? Is that why you don’t go out? Are you—”

He gave you a look. A very pointed, very shut up before I actually throw you out look.

You just cackled. “Yeah, alright. Go back to work, lightweight.”

Soon after, it didn’t take long for Crowe to start feeling something—not that he’d ever admit it. You had finished your slice—even had another one without issue, enjoying every bite while Crowe had been more hesitant, taking small, slow bites as if waiting for some dramatic effect to kick in. And, to your delight, it did.   

He shifted in his chair, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off the odd sensation creeping up on him. His usually sharp gaze had softened just a bit, and though he kept his expression neutral, you didn’t miss the way his fingers drummed against the desk a little too loosely or the way he exhaled through his nose, slower than usual.  

You smirked. “Feeling okay over there?” 

Crowe shot you a flat look, but there was something off about it—like his focus wasn’t entirely there. “I’m fine.” You tilted your head, scrutinizing him. His dark brown skin had taken on a noticeable flush, heat blooming over his cheekbones and creeping down his neck.

 You knew that look.  

“Oh my god,” you gasped, leaning forward with barely contained laughter. “You’re lightweight, aren’t you?” Crowe blinked, frowning slightly before scoffing. “No.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated. “It’s just warm in here.”  

You bit your lip, trying to stifle your amusement. “Crowe, this is embarrassing. I ate the same cheesecake on my third slice, and I feel fine.” He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening for a second before he muttered, “You have an unfair advantage.”  

You grinned. “No wonder you avoid alcohol like the plague. You can’t hold your liquor.” Crowe furrowed his brows at your mocking tone, his face turning into a bit of a pout.

"I can hold my liquor," he grumbled, though the faint tinge in his face betrayed his words. He shifted in his seat slightly, crossing his arms defensively. "I just don't see the appeal of losing my inhibitions and making a fool of myself. Unlike some people."

Your expression turned into a smirk, tone still just as condescending.

"Ah, the classic excuse." Your gaze remained fixed on him with a hint of judgment. "Inhibitions are what make us human, you know. Or perhaps you fear the idea of letting go and having a little fun."

Crowe bristled at your words, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

"I'm not afraid of having fun," he retorted, his voice betraying a hint of defensiveness. "I simply prefer to maintain control over my actions. I see no need for losing myself to something as shallow as alcohol."

He let out a scoff. 

"Besides, true fun can be had without the need for impairment."

You let out a short, derisive laugh. "Ah, yes. The need to control everything around you, even your fun. How incredibly dull of you." She leaned closer, her expression a mix of mockery and superiority.

"But tell me, Princess, do you ever truly feel alive, or is your life merely an endless cycle of monotony and self-imposed discipline?"

"Oh, please." Crowe rolled his eyes at your mockery. "Just because I don't partake in mind-numbing substances doesn't mean my life lacks excitement. I simply find joy in more meaningful pursuits." He crossed his arms, his expression hardening. "Unlike some, I don't rely on alcohol or other substances to feel alive. My life is filled with purpose and discipline, and I take pride in that."

You tilted your head, the smirk still dancing on your lips.

"Purpose and discipline…?” she drawled. "I bet you take pride in your ability to follow routines like a well-trained dog, too."

“Excuse me?” Crowe frowned, his voice sharp as he watched you lean closer, sensing the shift in the air.

You didn’t back down. “Jericho,” you said, using his real name with a seriousness that seemed to catch him off guard. “I’ve been your assistant for the past two weeks now, and I’m starting to notice something. You let the student council—and even the president—treat you like a dog, and I see the expression on your face every time. Pure irritation.” 

You shifted and hopped onto his desk, sitting beside him, your legs casually swinging back and forth as you watched him try to suppress his usual annoyance. 

Crowe’s frown deepened, his hand tightening on the paperwork as he visibly tried to keep his composure. You could almost see the gears grinding behind his eyes, a mix of irritation and something else, something less guarded. 

"I’m aware of the circumstances," he said, voice tight but still trying to assert some control, "and I can handle the student council just fine. I… I’m fine with it. Really." He trailed off, and his words faltered. You could tell he was trying to convince himself more than you. The bravado was fading as his frustration bled into something more vulnerable, something he didn’t want to admit out loud.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in just a little closer. “Oh, I don’t doubt that you can handle things, Jericho. But here’s the thing—you’ve been avoiding something for a while. And it’s not just the paperwork.”

He didn’t meet your gaze, his eyes flicking away as he shifted uneasily in his chair. He didn’t like where this conversation was going, that much was obvious.

“Look, I get it. You’re used to doing everything by yourself, keeping things together, and letting everyone walk all over you if it means getting things done. But that doesn’t mean you have to take it. And it definitely doesn’t mean you’re okay with it,” you said, leaning forward, voice low but firm. You saw the way he struggled to keep his walls up, the cracks widening. 

“I appreciate your concern,” he muttered, barely audible, “but I can handle everything. I really don’t mind being treated like a dog.”

Your smirk faltered just a bit, and a hint of seriousness crept into your tone. “Hm, now I know you’re not the buzzed type…” you murmured, thoughtfully. “You say you don’t mind… but I can sense there’s more to it than just handling things. You’re avoiding my gaze for a reason, after all.”

Crowe didn’t respond right away, his eyes avoiding yours, but the tension in the air was palpable. You could feel his discomfort growing, but there was something else, too—a sense of reluctance mixed with a desire for something else, something you both knew he wasn’t willing to admit yet.

You sighed heavily, making sure to add some extra dramatic flair before stepping closer. His desk, though structured, had a certain worn-in look, the wood slightly dulled from constant use, with scattered notes and open folders sprawled across its surface. The lamp at the corner cast long, soft shadows, adding a golden warmth to the otherwise sterile, paper-filled workspace.  

You crouched beside his chair and gestured toward his feet. “Move.” 

Crowe blinked down at you, finally breaking his focus. His brows furrowed. “What—?”  

You didn’t give him a chance to retreat into his shell. Instead, you were now kneeling down in front of him, slipping under the desk with the kind of confidence that said ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ “I’m going to see if you’ll actually let me help,” you said, your voice light but insistent, “because right now? You think you don’t need anything from anyone. But I’m betting you’ll let me assist you. And I’m going to find out just how much you really don’t mind.”  

The air between you shifted, thick with unspoken tension, as Crowe’s jaw tightened. You could almost see the internal battle raging within him—the need to keep control, to not rely on anyone, fighting against the small, desperate part of him that did need help, that did want something different. Something softer, something less exhausting.

“Stop acting like you can do everything by yourself, Jericho," you said gently, yet firmly. “Let me help. Please.”

His eyes flicked down to where you were kneeling in front of him, his throat working as if he were trying to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. You didn’t move, letting the silence stretch just long enough for him to feel the weight of your presence. You were here, offering, and this time, you weren’t going to back off.

“I’m not going to bite, I promise.” You smiled, though it was a soft, knowing grin—one that suggested you could see right through the mask he wore.

For a moment, he said nothing, just staring at you like you’d asked him to do the impossible. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, His deep blue eyes flickered with something unreadable—something between exasperation and tiredness.  

Then, finally, his shoulders and arms sagged, just a little, and he let out a quiet, resigned sigh. “Fine. Okay. You win. Help me, then.”

Still kneeling on the floor, you tilted your head slightly, your eyes locked onto his with a mischievous glint that told him you weren’t backing down anytime soon. You let your gaze linger a little longer than necessary, unwavering and unblinking, before slowly shifting closer, inching just enough to make your presence impossible to ignore.

You could feel the tension building between you two, a palpable electricity in the air, and you were loving every second of it.

“Y’know, as your assistant,” you began, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm, “all I’ve done is watch you mistreat me, running errands, picking up the slack... I mean, I barely get a ‘thank you’ for anything.” You leaned in just a little more, making sure he could feel the weight of your words.

It was a total lie, of course. He doesn’t actually mistreat you, but you loved getting under his skin, watching the way he reacted to your teasing. The slight furrow of his brow, the tension that flickered in his jaw—he was trying so hard not to take the bait.

Before he could respond, you lightly placed a hand on his thigh, just above the knee, your fingers barely grazing his skin. You could practically feel the sharp intake of breath he took, his body going rigid under your touch.

“You really should show your assistant some gratitude,” you added, your voice low, almost a whisper. “Or... maybe I’ll start taking advantage of the fact that I know exactly how much you don’t want help.”  

His eyes flickered to your hand, then back up to your face, but he didn’t move. His lips pressed into a thin line, clearly debating whether to stay stoic or snap at you. But you could tell that you were getting to him—just a little. 

You were testing him. And so far? You were winning.

You felt it instantly—the way his muscles tensed beneath the fabric of his pants, his entire body going rigid for just a fraction of a second. His smirk, always so confident, faltered—just barely. Instead, he regarded you with something sharper now, something closer to curiosity than irritation. “Oh?” he mused, his voice dipping into a lower register, sending a slow ripple of heat down your spine.  

"I don't treat you badly," he protested, though his voice had an edge to it—strained, like he was trying very hard not to focus on the placement of your hand. “I always make sure to take care of you, even when I’m busy…”  

You chuckled slyly, inching closer so that you were practically hovering over him now. Your fingers traced absentmindedly along his thigh, feather-light but deliberate, as you tilted your head and gave him a teasing, knowing look.  

"Oh, Crowe," you crooned, drawing out his name, savoring the way his jaw clenched in response. “That’s not enough. And you don’t reward me ‘nearly’ enough."  

His breath hitched for the smallest moment, but he recovered quickly, exhaling sharply through his nose. Almost a laugh—almost. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, something restrained, but the corners of his lips twitched upward in spite of himself.  

"Rewards, huh?" he murmured, the words slow, measured. He leaned back slightly in his chair, though his gaze never left yours, locked in a silent battle of wills.

You could feel the weight of his stare, the way his fingers tightened slightly around the papers he had been holding—forgotten now, unimportant. 

You had his attention. Completely.

"And what exactly do you think you deserve as a reward, huh?" Crowe asked, tilting his head slightly, his tone deceptively casual, but his body language betraying him. You paused, considering his question, letting the moment between you.

What could you ask for?

What did you want from him?

Your fingers, still resting on his thigh, tapped once—thoughtful, teasing. "Well," you mused, lips curling at the edges as you leaned in just a fraction closer. "That depends. Are you finally done with work?"

Crowe exhaled sharply, the sound unmistakable as he shook his head—a familiar gesture that meant he was about to endure something he definitely wasn’t looking forward to. You could see the frustration in the way his shoulders slumped slightly as if bracing for the inevitable storm that was coming his way. But before he could even open his mouth to express his exasperation—

His phone rang.

Shit maybe you don’t have his attention like you thought 

You didn’t need to check the screen to know who was calling. The ringtone had become so ingrained in your memory, it was practically a soundtrack to your time spent in the student council room. You could’ve recognized it in the dead of night, half-asleep and groggy.

But you still raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “Who is it?”

“The student President…” Crowe muttered, barely a glance at the phone before he visibly grimaced.

Without skipping a beat, you leaned over his thigh and nudged him, giving him that determined look that meant ‘this was happening whether he liked it or not.’ “Pick it up.”

He shot you a look of disbelief. “What now?”

“Yes. Pick it up.”

Crowe hesitated for just a second, clearly torn between his usual aversion to the student council President’s calls and the sense of duty that always seemed to take over.

You could practically feel the battle within him: to pick up and face whatever nonsense was about to unfold or to pretend he hadn’t heard it ringing and hoped it went away. But, of course, he didn’t choose the latter. 

With an exaggerated sigh, Crowe picked up the phone, his fingers brushing over the screen like it was a ticking bomb. 

Above you, Crowe cleared his throat, the sound sharp and professional—the tone he always used when he was in full ‘I-have-to-do-this’ mode. It was crisp and controlled, but there was a thin thread of tension that clung to the edges of his voice, betraying the fact that he was anything but relaxed.

“President,” Crowe greeted, his voice polite but tight, like he was holding back the urge to snap. "Didn’t realize you were gonna call so late."

You could practically feel the irritation dripping off him, but he kept it buried under that forced professional tone. If the student council president had any clue how much Crowe was dreading this call, they sure weren’t showing it. Crowe shifted in his seat, like he was bracing for whatever nonsense the student council president was about to throw his way.

You almost felt bad for him—almost—but let’s be real, he was the one who willingly signed up for this madness.

Still, you had a feeling this call was gonna drag on a lot longer than either of you wanted. Your heart was hammering as you pressed your head flat against Crowe’s lap, barely breathing, just waiting—again for this stupid call to be over.

Every inch of you was aware of how close you were, and it was making it hard to focus on anything else. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but it was way too hard when Crowe’s leg was right there, brushing against you. 

On the other end, the student president’s voice—sharp and already full of annoyance—came through loud and clear. "It’s about the upcoming budget meeting. You didn’t submit the finalized report yet."

Crowe let out an exaggerated sigh from above, and you could feel the shift in his chair like it was trying to rattle your very bones. You clenched your jaw, trying not to squirm as you felt the brush of his knee against your shoulder. It definitely felt deliberate, like he was trying to mess with you, making it impossible for you to get comfortable. 

You swallowed down the discomfort and forced yourself to stay still, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you react. 

"It’s almost done," Crowe said, smooth as butter, his voice way too casual for how much of a lie it was. "I was just in the middle of… reviewing it."

Such a liar. You rolled your eyes internally. 

"Good," the student president replied, clearly distracted by whatever papers they were rifling through. “I need it by tonight. No excuses.”

Your stomach dropped. You held your breath, teetering on the edge of panic as Crowe leaned forward, his lower body inching closer to yours. He reached for something on his desk, and suddenly, the space between you felt way too small. 

Like, way too small. It was suffocating, but you didn’t move. 

You couldn’t. 

…Right?

“Noted,” Crowe said, his voice only slightly strained. You could hear the tension in it, though, and it made your pulse spike. 

The student president sighed on the other end of the phone call, oblivious to the chaos unfolding in Crowe’s office. “I don’t know how you manage all this paperwork, Ichabod. You’d think with your assistant, things would be more efficient.”

You nearly choked. Excuse me?

Crowe let out an amused huff, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, well. Sometimes, they can be a handful.” 

Your eye twitched. Oh, he did not just say that. That smug little—oh, he was so not getting away with this. 

From under the desk, you moved quickly, your fingers darting to his pants. You undid the buttons with practiced ease, then unzipped them, pulling them down to his thighs. And then—oh. 

Oh~

The first thing you saw was the massive tent in his briefs, and you almost choked on your own saliva. How was he even walking like that?

“Hey—what are you—what are you doing—?” Crowe hissed, his voice low and frantic. You glanced up at him, and the look on his face was priceless. His jaw was tight, his dark blue eyes wide, and there was this desperate, pleading expression that screamed, ‘Don’t you dare.’ 

But oh, you dared. 

You brought a hand to him hesitantly, your fingers brushing over the fabric of his briefs. The second you started palming him, Crowe let out this low, shaky sigh that he barely managed to stifle. How the hell was he already this hard? And why did that make your stomach flip in the best way possible?

You could feel him twitch under your touch, and you bit your lip to keep from grinning. This was payback, plain and simple. He wanted to call you a ‘handful’? 

Fine. You’d show him exactly what that meant.

Crowe’s voice was strained as he tried to keep his composure on the phone. “Yes. I’ll—uh—make sure to follow up on that.” 

You smirked, your fingers slipping under the waistband of his briefs. Crowe’s breath hitched, and he shot you a look that was equal parts warning and begging. But you weren’t about to stop now. Not when he was squirming like this, not when you had him right where you wanted him.

“Crowe?” the student president’s voice crackled through the phone. “Are you still there?”

“Y-yes,” Crowe stammered, his voice tight. “Just—uh—just dealing with something. Urgently.”

You stifled a laugh, your hand wrapping around him fully now. Crowe’s head tipped back slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He was trying so hard to keep it together, but you could see the cracks forming. His free hand gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white, and you could feel the way his body tensed under your touch.

Crowe was trying to focus. 

Keyword: trying. 

But you were making it impossible.

You had one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, your fingers teasing the sensitive skin there, while your other hand cupped his balls, gently massaging them in a way that made his leg twitch under the desk. You kissed the tip of him, soft and teasing, and when you glanced up at him, his jaw was clenched so tight you thought it might crack.

“Yes, President,” Crowe said, his voice strained but impressively steady. “I’ll make sure the budget report is finalized by—” He cut off with a sharp inhale as you dragged your tongue along the length of him, slow and deliberate. His free hand slammed down on the desk, and you could see his fingers trembling.

You smirked, your lips curling around him as you took him deeper, your tongue flicking against the underside of his cock. Crowe’s breath hitched, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to cover the sound. “Apologies,” he said, his voice tight. “Just—uh—just a bit of a cough.”

You almost laughed at that, but you were too busy enjoying the way his thighs tensed under your hands. You pulled back, letting him slip from your mouth with a soft pop, and then—because you were feeling extra mean—you slapped his cock against your cheek a couple of times, the sound muffled but still way too loud in the quiet space.

Crowe’s eyes snapped down to you, wide and panicked, and you gave him your best innocent look before leaning in to lick a slow stripe up his length. His hand shot out, tangling in your hair, but he didn’t push you away. No, he just held on, his grip tightening as you took him into your mouth again, deeper this time.

“Ichabod?” the student president’s voice came through the phone, sharp and impatient. “Are you even listening?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Crowe managed, though his voice was definitely higher-pitched than usual. “Just—uh—just reviewing the numbers.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making his hips jerk involuntarily. He bit down on his lip to stifle a groan, but you could still hear it, low and desperate. You pulled back again, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and innocent.

“You’re doing so good,” you mouthed, your voice silent but your meaning crystal clear. Crowe’s face flushed a deep red, and he quickly looked away, his jaw tightening as he tried—and failed—to focus on the phone call. His free hand, the one not clutching the phone, gripped the edge of his desk so hard you thought the wood might splinter.

You didn’t let up.

Instead, you ducked your head again, taking him deeper this time, your throat relaxing around him as you swallowed him down. Crowe’s hand tangled in your hair, his fingers tightening almost reflexively, and you could feel the way his body tensed, the way he fought to keep his hips still. 

He was a losing battle, and you knew it. 

You could feel the subtle shift in his muscles, the way his control was slipping with every flick of your tongue, every slow, deliberate movement of your lips.

“President,” Crowe said, his voice strained, “I think we might need to—ah—to reschedule this call.”

You smirked around him, your tongue flicking against that sensitive spot just under the head of his cock. Crowe’s breath hitched, and he let out a shaky exhale that he barely managed to stifle. You could feel the way his thighs trembled under your hands, the way his entire body was teetering on the edge.

“Reschedule?” the president snapped, his tone incredulous. “Ichabod, this is important. We don’t have time for—”

But Crowe wasn’t listening anymore.

His hips bucked forward involuntarily, his cock hitting the back of your throat, and you could feel the way his body shuddered, the way he lost control for just a second. 

It was all you needed. 

You hummed softly, the vibration making him twitch in your mouth, and you could feel the way his resolve was crumbling. His hand in your hair tightened, pulling just enough to make your scalp tingle, and you could hear the way his breathing grew ragged, uneven.

“I—uh—apologize, sir,” Crowe managed to choke out, his voice tight and unsteady. “Something… urgent has come up.”

You didn’t let him finish. 

Instead, you pulled back slightly, just enough to swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock before taking him deep again, your throat working around him. Crowe’s head tipped back, a low groan escaping his lips before he could stop it, and you could feel the way his body was trembling, the way he was barely holding it together.

The student president was still talking, his voice sharp and impatient, but Crowe wasn’t hearing a word of it. His focus was entirely on you, on the way your mouth felt around him, on the way you were driving him absolutely insane. His hips bucked again, this time more deliberately, and you could feel the way his control was slipping, the way he was losing himself in the sensation.

“I’ll—ah—call you back,” Crowe said abruptly, his voice rough and strained. He didn’t even wait for a response before he ended the call, tossing the phone onto his desk with a clatter.

The second the call was over, his hand in your hair tightened, and he pulled you off him just enough to look down at you, his eyes dark and blazing with need. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he growled, his voice low and rough.

You just smirked up at him, your lips still wrapped around him, and then you took him deep again, your throat relaxing as you swallowed him down. Crowe’s breath came out in a harsh exhale, and his hips jerked forward, his control completely gone now.

“Fuck,” Crowe muttered, his voice rough and strained, his hand tightening in your hair as he thrust into your mouth. His movements were desperate, almost frantic, like he was losing control and couldn’t stop himself.

You could feel the way his body trembled, the way his thighs tensed under your hands, and you knew he was teetering on the edge. 

You kept your pace steady, your lips wrapped tight around him, your tongue working against him in ways that made his breath hitch and his grip on your hair tighten almost painfully.

"Here I—"

Crowe didn’t get to finish his words.

His hips stuttered, his cock pulsing in your mouth as he came with a low, guttural groan. You swallowed half of it, the taste warm and salty, before pulling back just enough to let the rest spill across your lower face. A few streaks of white painted your chin and the corner of your mouth, and you looked up at him, your eyes never leaving his.

“I’m so sorry,” Crowe said, his voice hoarse, his chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His hand loosened in your hair, his fingers brushing gently against your scalp as if to soothe the sting. But you just smirked, your tongue darting out to catch the cum at the edge of your face.

“It’s all good,” you said, your voice low and teasing, as you licked the last traces of him away. The way his eyes darkened at the sight, the way his jaw tightened like he was fighting the urge to pull you back in, only made your smirk widen.

When he finally stilled, his body limp and spent, you pulled back slowly, a satisfied smirk on your lips. Crowe slumped back in his chair, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing. He looked completely wrecked—his hair disheveled, his shirt rumpled and half-unbuttoned, his face still flushed with the aftermath of his release. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the faint tremble in his forearms.

“You’re lucky we didn’t get caught,” Crowe muttered, his voice low and gruff as he leaned back in his chair. He was trying to sound stern, but the way his eyes lingered on you—dark and hungry—gave him away. “Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if the student president had figured out what you were doing under my desk?”

You just shrugged, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, a sly grin spreading across your face. “At least I had your back, so he didn’t really hear anything. Besides, he sounded more pissed that you hung up on him than anything else.”

Crowe groaned, running a hand over his face like he was trying to wipe away the memory of the entire ordeal. But you could see the corner of his mouth twitch like he was fighting a smile. “You’re such a menace,” he said, though there was no real heat behind his words. His voice was soft, almost fond, and the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the room that mattered—made your stomach flip.

You stood, leaning against his desk, your grin widening. “You love it,” you shot back, your voice dripping with playful defiance. 

Crowe let out a low laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. “I really do,” he admitted, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. 

You couldn’t help but notice how flushed Crowe’s face was, the deep red hue spreading across his cheeks and down his neck.

Was it from the way you’d just had him unraveling under your touch?

Or maybe it was the spiked cheesecake that you convinced him to indulge in earlier, the alcohol warming his veins and loosening his usual tight control. Honestly, it could’ve been both, and the thought made a smug little smile tug at your lips. 

Either way, you wanted him to relax, to let go of whatever tension was still coiled in his body.

“Do you need the hangover pills from your bathroom?” you asked, your voice soft but teasing as you tilted your head, studying him. You were half-turned toward the door, ready to fetch them if he said yes, but Crowe shook his head almost immediately.

“No,” he said, his voice rough, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I don’t need pills. I just need you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded, and before you could respond—before you could even process what he’d said—he reached for you. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist with a firmness that sent a shiver up your spine.

In one swift motion, he was on his feet, pulling you toward him with a force that made you stumble. You let out a surprised laugh, but it was cut short as you collided with his chest, his other arm snaking around your waist to steady you.

And then his lips were on yours, crashing into you with a hunger that left you breathless. The kiss was deep, demanding, almost possessive, and you melted into it without hesitation. His tongue slid against yours, and you could still taste him on your lips—a faint, lingering reminder of what you’d just done to him. It seemed to drive him wilder, his grip on you tightening as if he was afraid you’d pull away.

His hands roamed over your body like he needed to touch every inch of you, to remind himself that you were real, that you were his. One hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he cradled your head, holding you in place like he never wanted to let you go. The other hand stayed firmly on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin through the fabric of your clothes, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you.

You could feel the heat of him through his clothes, the way his body thrummed with restless energy like he was still riding the high of what had just happened. His chest rose and fell against yours, his breathing ragged, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart where your hand rested against him. 

It was intoxicating, the way he wanted you, the way he needed you, and you kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands sliding into his long, soft brown hair. His hair was silky between your fingers, and you tugged gently, earning a low groan from him that vibrated against your lips. 

The sound sent a thrill through you, and you deepened the kiss, your tongue sliding against his as you poured every ounce of your own desire into it. Crowe’s grip on you tightened, his body pressing into yours like he was trying to fuse the two of you together, and you could feel the evidence of his want pressing against your hip, hard and insistent.

The kiss was everything—hot, desperate, and full of unspoken promises. 

It was a collision of need and longing, a silent conversation that neither of you could put into words. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that left you breathless, his hands gripping you like you might disappear if he let go.

And when he finally broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath came in short, uneven gasps. You could see it in his eyes—the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were his entire world.

Crowe laughed, the sound low and warm, and then he was kissing you again, softer this time but no less hungry. You let yourself get lost in him, your body leaning back until the edge of his desk stopped you from moving any further. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, his body pressing you firmly against the desk.

One hand braced on the surface beside you, trapping you in place, while the other stayed on your waist, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

When he finally released you, you could see the redness of his face, the flush spreading from his cheeks down to his neck. It was almost enough to make you laugh, and you couldn’t resist tapping your finger lightly on his nose. He blinked, taken aback by the playful gesture, and then a slow, mischievous smile spread across his face.

“It’s time to reward beloved assistant,” he said, his voice low and rough, before kissing you again. This time, it was fiercer, more demanding, and you barely had time to react before he was roughly pushing all the papers off his desk with one sweeping motion.

The sound of them scattering to the floor barely registered as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on the now-clear desk. His hands stayed on your thighs, his grip firm as he leaned over you, trapping you once again.

Crowe’s breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling as he hovered over you, his eyes dark with want. He was about to kiss you again, but you stopped him, placing a hand on his chest to hold him back.

“Crowe, you’re still drunk,” you said, your voice soft but firm. You cupped his face in your hands, your fingertips brushing over the soft skin of his cheeks. His eyes, usually so sharp and focused, were now clouded with a mix of desire and something deeper, something raw and vulnerable. “One slice of spiked cheesecake is all it takes for you to be someone else?” you teased, your fingertips grazing over his soft, parted lips.

As much as you adored Crowe, you didn’t want to take advantage of him in this state. He was always so composed, so in control, and seeing him like this—unraveled and needy—was both intoxicating and a little unsettling. 

Crowe’s breath hitched as he leaned into your touch, his lips pressing a kiss to your palm. “I wonder if you fed me that cake on purpose, you to take a break.” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “Did you want to see me like this?”

You almost laughed. 

Yeah, maybe you did. 

But you wouldn’t tell him that to his face.

“Who could’ve guessed a small amount of alcohol would get you this drunk?” you said instead, looking down as his hands traveled up your thighs, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His touch was electric, and you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping.

“I never allowed myself touch alcohol,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands stopped at your waist, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. “But for you, I broke that rule.”

“Crowe…” you mumbled, your arms wrapping around his neck as you tried to steady yourself. His proximity, his touch, the way he looked at you—it was all too much, and yet not enough.

“You said you wanted a reward,” he said, his eyes pleading as he leaned his head down into the crook of your shoulder. “Fuck, you’re so warm. You smell like you, and I can’t imagine anything more beautiful than the stars in the sky.”

Confident, may you add, needy drunk definitely.

You felt your breath catch as his lips brushed against your neck, his kisses soft and lingering. His hands moved back to your thighs, sliding up to your waist, and then under your shirt again, his fingers exploring the plush curve of your hips. Everywhere he touched, it felt like he was leaving a mark, branding you as his.

“You’ve been such a wonderful assistant,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. “As your so-called boss, let me reward you, starlight.” His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help the windchime laugh that escaped you, muffled against his chest. It made his heart flip-flop like a fish in the cavern of his ribs. 

“Crowe, please…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“If you want me, you can have me,” he said, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “In whichever way you want.”

In whichever way you want?

That was a dangerous offer, especially from someone like him. And you knew you’d take him up on it, again and again and again. But not like this. Not when he was drunk, his inhibitions lowered, his control slipping. 

You sighed, gently pushing against his chest to create some distance.“Jericho, you’re really drunk,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “I’ll get the hangover pills.”

But before you could slide off the desk, Crowe grabbed your arms, pulling you back onto the surface with a force that surprised you. “Are you trying to escape?” he asked, his voice tinged with frustration. “You keep saying I’m drunk. So, must I always stay sober?” He rested his head on your chest, his breath warm against your skin. “Because of you, everything is spiraling out of control. How can you pretend you’re not affected?”

Your eyes flickered away for a moment, your hand resting on his chest as you thought about his words. It was hard to say no to him, especially when he looked at you like that, when his touch set your skin on fire. But you didn’t want to push him into something he might regret later.

“Jericho…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible. You were torn, your resolve wavering under the weight of his need and your own desire. 

Fuck it. 

You were a little tipsy too.

Just a bit better at hiding it than him.

You kiss him with a softness that he thinks must come naturally to you, a tenderness that makes his chest ache in the best way. Crowe adores it, even as he feels a twinge of guilt for the way he wants to devour it, to take that softness and turn it into something wild and untamed. 

But for now, he lets himself sink into it, his lips moving against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm that quickly deepens. Lips give way to tongue, and then to teeth, his mouth nipping at your lower lip in a way that makes you gasp softly, your fingers tightening in his hair.

His hands know your skin like they’ve mapped it a thousand times before, and yet every touch feels new, electric. They’re everywhere at once, hot and aching as they slide under your clothes, exploring the curves of your body with a reverence that makes your breath hitch.

One hand slips up to your breast, cupping it gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric of your top. The sensation is enough to make you arch into him, a gasp escaping your lips that he swallows down with another kiss.

Crowe takes his time with your layered tops—first the crop top, then the tank top—peeling them off you carefully, like he’s unveiling something sacred. His gaze never leaves you, his eyes dark and hungry as he drinks in the sight of you. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and then he’s leaning in, his mouth finding the spot right above your sternum, where he can feel the rapid flutter of your heartbeat beneath his lip as he removes your bra.

“So beautiful,” he mumbles into your skin, his voice low and rough with desire. His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in slow, deliberate circles.

“The brightest star in my life,” he adds, his voice barely above a whisper, like he’s confessing something he’s held onto for too long. He tilts his head, capturing one nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it as his hand slides under your back, fingers pressing into the dip of your spine. 

You arch into him instinctively, a soft moan escaping your lips as he takes his time, lavishing attention on your body despite the way his cock throbs painfully in his boxers—once again a bulge as pants were still unbutton. “Such a pretty star,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot. “So hot to the touch.”

His hands move to your hips, gripping you firmly as he lifts you by your ass, pulling your flared yoga pants down and off in one smooth motion. His eyes follow every movement, every inch of exposed skin, and you’re grateful for the dim lighting of the standing lamp near his desk.

It casts a warm glow over you, highlighting the curves of your body as you sit on top of his desk, completely at his mercy. His gaze is intense, almost reverent, as he takes you in, his hands sliding up your thighs with a touch that’s both possessive and tender. 

“Stay still, dearest,” he murmurs, his voice a low command that sends a shiver down your spine. His hands continue their exploration, fingers lacing through yours as they move over your hips, down to the waistband of your panties. He hooks his fingers into the fabric, pulling them down slowly, leaving you completely bare in front of him. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his breath coming a little faster now.

But of course, you can’t let him have all the fun.

“No,” you say suddenly, your voice firm but playful, pushing Crowe away with your foot on his lower chest, slowly rubbing.

Crowe freezes, his head snapping up to look at you, his cheeks still flushed with desire. “No?” he asks, his voice tinged with surprise and a hint of amusement.

“Isn’t this my reward for being your assistant?” you ask, tilting your head as you give him a sly smile. “Shouldn’t I have a say in how this goes?”

His eyes widen for a moment, and then a smirk plays on his lips, his expression shifting from surprise to ‘of course, whatever you say.’

“My apologies, dearest,” he says, his voice soft but laced with teasing. “How selfish of me. Of course, it’s only fair that you have a say in this.” He steps closer, his hands resting on either side of you on the desk as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “So, what is it that you desire, my sweet star? You have my full attention. Just tell me what you want.”

There was one or maybe two things.

You were sprawled back on Crowe’s desk, the cool surface pressing into your skin as your legs fell open for him. 

The edge of the desk dug into your lower back, but the discomfort was a distant thought—completely overshadowed by the way Crowe was looking at you. His deep blue eyes were dark with hunger, his gaze raking over your body like he wanted to memorize every inch of you. His long brown hair was undone,messy, falling into his face as he leaned over you, and you couldn’t help but reach up to brush a strand away. He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before letting it go, his lips curving into a smirk that made your stomach flip.

His hands slid up your thighs, his grip firm but not rough, like he was savoring the feel of you. He pushed your legs wider, settling himself between them, and you shivered as his fingers traced patterns on your skin, teasing and deliberate. His touch was electric, sending little shocks of pleasure through you, and you bit your lip to keep from begging him to hurry up.

But Crowe wasn’t one to rush. He took his time, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh, his lips soft and warm against your sensitive skin. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair as he kissed his way up, his breath hot and uneven. Each kiss was slow, and deliberate, like he was mapping out every inch of you, and by the time he reached where you needed him most, you were already trembling.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, the words sending a thrill through you. And then his tongue flicked against clit, and you let out a strangled cry, your fingers tightening in his hair. He didn���t hold back, his mouth working you over with a skill that had you seeing stars, your hips lifting off the desk as you tried to get closer, to feel more.

But just as you were about to tip over the edge, he pulled back, leaving you gasping and desperate. You whined, your hands tugging at his hair, but he only chuckled, the sound dark and full of promise. “Not yet,” he said, his voice dripping with mischief. “You missed the best part.”

You groaned, your head falling back against the desk as you tried to catch your breath. Crowe straightened, you can heard him unbuttoning his shirt, then pulled down his boxers along with his pants.

Soon you felt his hands sliding up to grip your hips, and you could feel the heat of him as he positioned his cock at your entrance—which he slap his cock against your pussy, enough to make you jump little bit as you tried to mentally prepare yourself.

Crowe laugh softly, holding you, "Don’t worry," He started before opening your pussy with two fingers, "Just relax, right?"

That little cheeky asshole

Suddenly, he pushed in slowly, inch by agonizing inch, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. He felt so good, stretching you, filling you completely, and when he finally bottomed out, you both let out a shaky breath.

“Fuck,” Crowe muttered, his head dropping forward as he tried to steady himself. His hands tightened on your hips, his thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that was almost soothing. “You feel so fucking incredible.”

You could only nod, your hands sliding up his arms to grip his shoulders as he started to move. His pace was slow at first, almost torturous, each thrust deep and deliberate. But then he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Just you.”

Crowe groaned, his pace quickening as he gave you exactly what you asked for—a rhythm that had you seeing stars. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he kissed you, deep and hungry.

His hands slid under your thighs, lifting your legs higher as he thrust into you, each movement deep and deliberate. You could feel the tension building in your body, your nails digging into his back—enough to almost leave marks as you tried to hold on.

And then, just as you were about to lose yourself completely, his phone rang.

The sound was jarring, pulling you both out of the moment, and Crowe let out a frustrated groan, stop completely. “Shit,” he muttered, glancing at the phone where it sat on the desk beside your head. He reached for it, his movements jerky and impatient, but when he saw the name on the screen—Student Council President—he hesitated.

“Answer it,” you moaned, your voice breathless and teasing. Your eyes met his, and you could see the conflict in his gaze—the way he wanted to ignore the call but knew he probably shouldn’t. “You know I can’t,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure. 

But you didn’t care. 

You reached for the phone, your fingers brushing against his as you answered the call and handed it to him. “You’re just going to hang up? What if it’s something important?” you teased, your voice dripping with playful innocence.

Crowe shot you a look that was equal parts ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to me’ and ‘I’m so into you it’s ridiculous.’ He sighed, running a hand through his hair before reluctantly bringing the phone to his ear, standing up straight. “What?” he snapped, his voice sharp and impatient, like he was already done with this conversation before it even started.

The student council president’s voice crackled through the phone, loud and unmistakably pissed. “Ichabod! What the hell was that earlier? You can’t just hang up on me like that! Do you have any idea how unprofessional—” 

Then, out of nowhere. With a playful annoyed sigh, your body to move, slamming yourself hard against Crowe.

He had to bite his lip to keep from moaning into the phone, however, your warm pussy clenching around cock—deep inside you, so warm, so fucking wet and bare— he wonders if he stretching you out in all of the right places.

You could feel the way his body tensed, the way he was trying to keep his voice steady while you were doing your absolute best to ruin him. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Unprofessional. Got it. Can we move on?”

“Move on?!” the student president screeched, his voice so loud you were pretty sure the neighbors could hear it. “You hung up on me in the middle of a very important discussion! Do you know how much paperwork I have to deal with because of you?!”

You couldn’t help it—you smirked, your fingers digging into Crowe’s arms as you rocked against him. He shot you a glare, but it was half-hearted at best, and you could see the way his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Look,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure, “I’ll… uh… I’ll get you the forms tomorrow, okay? Can we just—ah—drop this for now?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could practically hear the president’s brain short-circuiting. “Are you… are you breathing weirdly? What’s wrong with you?”

Crowe’s eyes widened, and for a split second, he looked genuinely panicked—like a deer caught in headlights. His grip on your hips tightened, his body freezing as the president’s voice blared through the phone, sharp and accusatory.

But then, just as quickly as the panic had set in, it was gone. His expression shifted, an unfamiliar mask of cool composure sliding back into place. 

His voice dropped into that low, dangerous tone he used when he was about to shut someone down, the one that sent shivers down your spine even when it wasn’t directed at you.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he said, his voice smooth and steady, though you could feel the way his body tensed beneath you. “I’m just… busy. Very busy. So if you’ll excuse me—”

“Busy doing what?!” the president yelled, their voice reaching a pitch that could probably shatter glass. “You’re supposed to be working, not—what are you even doing right now?!”

Crowe’s lips twitched, and you could see the exact moment the mischief sparked in his eyes. He looked down at you, his gaze dark and heated, and then he smirked. 

Uh oh. 

“Jericho—” you started, your voice a warning, but he cut you off with a deep, hungry kiss. His lips crashed against yours, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your head spin. The kiss was demanding, almost possessive, and you couldn’t help but melt into it, your hands tangling in his hair as he muffled your sounds. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with desire, his breathing ragged, and he gave you a wicked grin that made your stomach flip.

“Trust me,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I need you to be loud for this.”

Before you could respond, he turned his attention back to the phone, his smirk widening as he brought it to his ear. “What am I doing?” he repeated, his tone dripping with faux innocence. “Oh, you know. Just… multitasking.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, and then the president’s voice came through, louder and more incredulous than before. “Multitasking?! What does that even mean?!”

Crowe’s grin turned downright devilish, and you could feel the way his body vibrated with suppressed laughter. “This,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, and then he thrust deep inside you, hitting that spot that made your vision blur and your breath catch. 

You couldn’t help it—you moaned, loud and unrestrained, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure shot through you like a lightning bolt.

“Jericho!” you cried out, your voice breaking on his name, and he smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he turned his attention back to the phone.

“You hear that?” he said, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “I’m busy fucking at the moment. Raw and deep. Something you’ll never get with those ugly-ass clothes of yours.”

Your eyes widened in shock, your mouth falling open as you stared at him. 

Did he really just say that? 

To the student council president? 

Your Crowe??

But before you could say anything, Crowe hung up and tossed the phone onto the desk, the device skidding across the surface before coming to a stop near the edge. “Jericho!” you hissed, your voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You did not just say that!” 

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and then he was kissing you again, his hands roaming over your body like he couldn’t get enough of you. “What?” he said, pulling back just enough to grin at you. 

“It’s true, plus you wanted this,” Crowe murmured, his voice low and rough, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned down to capture your nipple between his teeth. He bit down gently, just enough to make you gasp, before soothing the sting with his tongue, sucking and teasing until you were squirming beneath him.

His deep blue eyes locked onto yours, “There’s something undeniably addictive about stepping out of line,” he admitted, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “Maybe getting drunk was worth it. Especially fucking you at the end.”

You laughed breathlessly, the sound catching in your throat as he thrust into you again, his cock hitting that deep, sensitive spot that made your toes curl. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he fucked you with a relentless intensity that left you breathless. 

Every movement was deliberate, every stroke designed to drive you closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building in your body, your legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer, desperate for more. “Crowe,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as you tried to hold on. “I’m close—”

“Come for me,” he growled, his voice low and commanding, and it was all you needed to tip over the edge. Your body trembled as pleasure washed over you in waves, your walls clenching around his cock as you fell apart. Crowe didn’t let up, continuing ramming his hips into yours as he chased his own release, his breath hot against your neck as he let out a low, guttural groan.

When he finally came, it was with a force that left you both shaking. His hips stuttered, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled himself deep, his body collapsing against yours as he rode out the waves of pleasure. His breath was ragged, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath, and you could feel the way his heart raced against your chest.

For a moment, neither of you moved. 

The room was quiet, save for the soft, uneven rhythm of your breathing, the sound of your hearts still racing in sync. Crowe’s body was warm and heavy against yours, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. You could feel the way his fingers absently traced patterns on your skin, his touch gentle and lingering like he was memorizing every inch of you.

And then he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, and the look he gave you—God, it made your chest ache. His gaze was dark, full of something raw and unguarded, a mix of affection and possessiveness that made your stomach flip. It was the kind of look that made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were his entire world.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his voice rough but tender, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“But what a way to go, right?” you teased, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, feeling the way his muscles shifted under your touch.

Crowe laughed, the sound low and warm, and then he was kissing you again, his lips soft and lingering. It wasn’t the hungry, desperate kiss from before—this was something slower, sweeter, like he was savoring the taste of you. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for ages,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Besides, my assistant wanted attention, and as the boss, I’m happy to provide.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. “You’re such an idiot,” you said, your voice fond.

“Maybe,” he said, his lips brushing against yours in a way that made your breath hitch. “But I’m your idiot.”

And then he was kissing you again, his hands roaming over your body like he couldn’t get enough of you. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine as he traced every curve, every dip like he was trying to commit you to memory. “Forever yours,” he murmured against your lips, the words so soft they were almost lost in the space between you.

You laughed as you kissed him back, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. “So, what are you going to do now that you’ve probably been fired from the student council?” you asked, your tone light and teasing.

Crowe shrugged, a smirk spreading across his face. 

“Whatever my new boss tells me to do,” he said, his lips brushing against your palm as he kissed it. His eyes met yours, and the look he gave you was pure mischief. “And right now, you’re telling me to stay right here.” You grinned, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him in for another kiss. 

Good answer, assistant.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes (silverfox)

Note: Friday at last and my house guest is away for a couple days.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky plants his feet as the bike comes to a stop. You look up at the duplex and your insides get all swirly. You're home and still giddy. You've made up your mind. It's now or never.

He shuts off the engine and waits for you to get off first. You hang onto his shoulder for balance as you hop down. He gets off without much effort and heaves a dark sigh. He hesitates and you do too.

"That was awesome, Bucky," you shimmy. 

"Mm," he drones and flinches, moving toward the saddle bag. He unbuckles it and takes out the cookies. "Don't forget these."

You take them reluctantly and he hauls out his bag of groceries. He wraps one arm around it and lets the flap fall open. He faces you as you clutch the box to your chest. Don't let him do it. He can't send you away now.

"Hey, you want... want to try some? I could make us some tea."

His eyes dart to the side then he looks down at the bag. He fidgets and shifts on his feet. He looks at you and his forehead lines. He deflates just a little as you watch him with rounded, hopeful eyes.

"Sure, I should get the yogurt in the fridge though so why don't you come in?" He relents.

You could fist pump and jump in glee. You don't. You're not that lame. You bounce and smile.

"Oh, yay," you grin, "so you got everything set up?"

"Hm, not much. Still got a few things to grab," he grits.

You walk up the steps beside him and stand aside, waiting for him to unlock the door. He keeps the screen door open with his elbow then pauses before he pushes open the inner one. He sniffs.

"Go on, girl," he waves inside.

Huh, what happened to doll?

You enter as if you've discovered some ancient crypt full of treasures meant for the after world. There's a couch and a coffee table, a floor lamp behind the former. The area rug is the only piece of decor to give it any warmth. You try not to be too obvious as you take account of the barren space.

"I might got some tea," he says as he gentle touches your back and slips by. You savour the tingle along your spine.

You take off your boots before you break the threshold of the front room. You tiptoe in as you hear him in the kitchen. He sighs as cupboards open and close.

"It doesn't have to be tea," you call to him. You near the table and examine the motorcycle magazine, a sheet of paper tucked under the cover.

"Good, all I got is beer," he says. 

"Mmm," you turn as he comes close with the bottles.

"Coasters," he says.

"Oh, uh, right," you set the box next to the magazine and take two of the cork coasters from the stack. You place them down and he swiftly clanks the bottles into place.

"I know it's not much but uh, get comfortable," he says.

You pluck up a bottle and sit on the couch. You taste the malty beer. It's not bad. He paces around and nears the window. You watch his back.

You lean forward to set down the bottle and tear the seal on the box. You flip the top and pick out two cookies. You get up and approach him. You stop beside him.

"Try one," you offer.

He exhales and accepts it with a thanks. You nibble and he crunches into his. It's a bit dry by sweet.

You're nervous. You've never been this close in your life. Now you have the prime opportunity. You're in his space. You finish the cookie and smack your lips.

"Dry," you chuckle, "need to wash it down."

"Me too," he says.

He follows you as you go to grab your beer. You drink and sit. He does the same, stiffly, as he takes his beer and swigs. Your eyes stick to him. You watch his throat and the way his chest stretches the fabric of his shirt. You set the beer back on the cork and sidle closer. You're fuzzy all over.

You put your hand on his knee. He flinches and lowers the bottle. He looks at your hand and reaches to set down the beer. His other hand covers yours and he peels it off.

"Look, doll," he squeezes and clears his throat, gently laying your hand in your own lap. "There's things you don't know about me. I think you better just finish and go."

"Bucky, I... it's okay. Whatever it is."

"I'm too old for ya," he puffs. "You're young. Don't do this."

His eyes bore into yours. You pout.

"I might be young but I can make my own choices. So why don't you tell me so I can?"

His cheek twitches, "girl--"

"Please. Don't I deserve to know?"

"I don't know what you're thinking, girl. Alright? Look at us. I'm... I gotta twice your age. And you're... you're too sweet for your own good."

"Tell me," you reach for him again, petting the denim on his thigh. "I won't go until you do. Or you can drag me out."

His eyes flicker and he looks at the window behind you. His jaw squares and he shakes his head. He slaps his hand over yours again but doesn't move it away.

"I'm a criminal. I just got out and I'm tryna rebuild, but I'm not changed. Alright? You understand me," he snarls. "I'm a bad man. I hurt people. Too late for me to change that."

You search his face, "but... you haven't hurt me. And you did your time."

"Girl, don't be foolish."

"No, Bucky, you told me and I don't care. I don't care what you are. I know that you feel this too," you move closer. "Don't you?"

He turns his head and stares at the wall. You squeeze his thigh and get up on your knees. You trail your touch up to his belt and he grunts, stopping you with his thick fingers around your wrist.

"Bucky, please," you beg. "It's just us. Nothing else."

"Girl--" he pleads.

"You're not too old, you're not too bad," you slip free of his grasp and tickle up his shirt, "you're perfect for me, baby."

You bring your hand to his jaw and flutter your fingers along his beard. He shudders and you raise yourself on your knees. You lean in and press your lips to his. He grabs your upper arm but doesn't push you away. He growls as you open your mouth and slide your tongue along his lips.

His hand slides away from your arm and to your back, crawling to the back of your neck. You brace his shoulder and swing your leg across him, straddling his lap as you deepen the kiss. He groans as you hook an arm around his neck and snare him. You rock him slightly as you breathe into him, tilting your pelvis against him. 

He grips your hip with his other hand and parts from your mouth. His eyes are cloudy as he gazes up at you. The tension is his cheek pulses.

"Doll," he shakes his head, "one last chance..."

"I got condoms," you say as you sit back and reach to your cross body bag, still resting against your side.

He shivers and slackens against the couch. "You're too much."

"I know what I want," you assure him.

He stares at you and his lashes flick, He grabs the strap of your cross body bag and unhooks it from around you. He puts it on the cushion and gulps. He frames your face with his hands, his thumbs rubbing your cheekbones. He sighs. 

You reach up to curl your fingers under the straps of your tanks top and drag them down your arms. You feel him beneath you. He's hard already. You're soaking through your panties, not that there's much to them.

You push down the sheath of your top to your waist. He inhales sharply and you reach back, your chest bulging as you tug at the band of your bra. You unhook it and quickly drop it down to your wrists. Your tits pop free and jiggle as you toss your bra.

He blinks at your chest. He just sits there, paralysed. You giggle and grab his hands, putting them on your tits, making him squeeze them. He purrs and rolls his hips.

"Doll, you're... you're..." He gropes you then slips his hands down to lift your tits. He leans forward and nuzzles your flesh, pushing your chest around his face as he snarls. You got him. There's no going back.

You arch your back and cling to his head, urging him on. He nips and teethes at you, tracing your nipple with his thumb before popping it between his lips. He hums and swirls his tongue around the hard bud. It must have been a while for him, having been in jail. That sends another thrill through you.

You twine your fingers into his hair and grazes his scalp with your nails. He snarls as he continues to bounce your tits, squeezing and pawing. You never cared much for the extra weight, but now that he's drowning in them, you can't complain.

You lip your hand down between your bodies and feel along the front of his jeans. He groans and wriggles against your touch. He's rock-hard. He hisses as he pulls away and drops back against the couch heavily.

"Doll," he tenses up.

You giggle and tug at the bottom of his shirt. You push it up his stomach and over his broad chest. You mess his hair as you swoop it past his head and drop it over the back of the couch.

Now it's your turn. You flatten your hands across his pecs and moan. He growls and you drag your nails lightly down his skin, the soft hair contrasting against hard muscle. His stomach is cushier but not in a bad way.

"Baby, you got me struggling," he groans and rubs your thighs, his pelvis tilting desperately.

"Me too," you breathe.

You linger at the top of his jeans then back off of him carefully. His eyes widen. You see fear in him. You grin and turn to wiggle your ass as him. You hook your fingers inside your leggings and bend as you push them down. Your thong rides up between your cheeks. He hums as the couch springs whine beneath him.

You shiver as your nerves flurry in your chest. This is it. So close. You're throbbing. You can see the slickness in your leggings as you step out of them.

"How... why do you want me, doll? You're... you're gorgeous," he rasps.

You stand and face him again. You shake your chest at him and he brings his fist up to bite his knuckle. You feel powerful.

You slink closer to him and touch the front of your bejeweled thong, a little heart on black. "Can I keep these on?"

"Yes," he croaks and clears his throat, "yes, doll."

You grin and grab your bag. You unzip the front pocket and slide free the strip of condoms. It unfurls and you laugh. "Oops... think we'll need them all?"

He startles you as he swipes up the end and tears one off, "we'll see."

You drop the rest beside your bag and blink at him. You sense something different. He tears open his pants and raises himself off the cushion as he shoves the denim down. His dick bobs above the elastic of his briefs, the head swollen and weeping. You get even wetter as you see the veins bulging under the skin.

He rips the wrapper with his teeth. He trembles as he presses the rubber to his tip and you near him, wavering as you weigh the moment. This is your last day a virgin. You take a silent breath and lean forward to grab his shoulders. He quakes and moans as he slides the condom down his length.

You bring yourself over his lap, hovering above him as he grips himself. He frames your hip and hisses, "doll, please, please, I need you on me. I need--"

You reach down and wrap your fingers above his. He lets go and gasps. You angle his tip along your cunt and push your panties aside. You stare down at him. Your eyes cling to his and you bite your lip.

You dip down carefully. As you open around him, you grunt. You sink your nails into his trap and your eyes speckle with tears. Oh, it hurts more than you expect.

He taps your hip, "stop," he snarls.

You bat your lashes but obey, "I can take it--"

"Come on," he feels along your side. He loops his arm around you and in an instant, he has your back to the cushion. He slips out of you. 

He fishes out your bag from beneath you and sweeps it onto the floor. He knees on the other end of the couch and urges you further up. You drag yourself until your head is against the armrest. 

He bends between your knees and kneads your thighs, his eyes on your cunt. He licks his lips before he plunges in. You yipe in surprise as he laps at you, his beard tickling your lips as he pushes your legs wider.

He flicks his tongue around and across your clit. You spasm and clasp onto his hair as the sensations stir within like flames. Your thighs clench and your spine stiffen. You pout and gulp loudly as he toys with you, suckling and swiping as you squirm.

He growls into you and traces a finger along your ass up to your entrance. He spreads the wetness there before he delves inside. He pushes his finger in bit by bit then draws it back out. He adds another and urges inside even deeper.

His tongue teases you to the edge as he pushes in and out of your cunt. He hums and drinks you up, spreading his tongue as wide as he can to taste all over you. He seals his lips once more around your clit and the pressure pinpoints, pulsing faster and faster until your muscles release.

There's a sudden surge and a hot flow coursing from you, dripping down his fingers. You convulse and whimper as you wash away with your orgasm.

He kisses your cunt before he sits up. You watch him, bleary-eyed, and he wipes the glisten from his beard with a hum. He inhales so his chest puffs out and he cracks his neck.

"If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right," he growls.

[worksby-d]

Give Me More Than Just Some Butterflies

Pairing: Steve Rogers x grad student!Reader

Summary: You begin to learn the shy Steve Rogers from your art class isn't so shy with you. Read the setup for these two here 🫶

Warnings: Age gap, unprotected sex I fear, 18+

Word count: ~700

Your chest rises and falls as you take in and let out slow, steady breaths. You’re sprawled out on your bed with Steve beside you, still half on top of you. His flushed, damp skin presses against yours. 

You can’t help but let out a quiet laugh, thinking to yourself thank God you let him take you out first if this was the return. 

But his first thoughts are somewhere else. When he finally speaks up, his voice is low and rough as he lifts his head to look down at you. 

“Was that okay?”

You slowly blink up at him, not immediately following what he’s asking.

“What?”

He drops his forehead against your shoulder and breathes out a small laugh. His hand on your hip squeezes gently. 

“It’s been a while,” he admits. “I feel like I got a little carried away.”

“Oh,” you giggle, but stop yourself not wanting it to seem like you’re laughing at him. He was a little rough, sure, but it was good. “No, I liked it.”

His look of relief is cute. He leans closer to you again, brushing his lips against yours. “Yeah?”

You nod and complete the kiss. “Yeah.”

His response comes in the form of trailing slow kisses along your jaw and down your neck. 

His deliberate movements coax a gasp out of you. “Steve–”

He smiles against your skin. “Hm?”

You feel the bed shift as he moves – His leg that’s resting between your own nudges against your thigh, guiding you to spread your legs and make room for him between them again. 

As you follow his lead, you can feel a faint ache that’s setting in from how thoroughly he fucked you the first time, but it’s not enough to impede your desire for it again. 

You tilt your head, giving him better access to your neck and collarbone. Your hand slips between your bodies to find him hard again. He lets out a deep groan when your fingers wrap around him, stroking gently. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he mutters. 

“Think you can handle one more round, old man?” You tease, referencing the first night you talked.

“See, I knew you were thinking about my age,” he scoffs. 

He rolls his hips, pressing his cock against your wet pussy. He gives you a second before thrusting into you in one deep stroke. A cocky smirk appears on his face hearing your loud moan and he lifts his head to watch a look of pleasure take over you. 

His name falls from your lips again, this time as a whimper. 

He groans, feeling your fingertips dig into his sides as you hold onto him. “God, you feel so good.”

He moves torturously slow at first, making sure you feel every inch of his cock dragging in and out of your tight cunt. He holds a hand against your waist as he sets a steady pace. 

Writhing beneath him, you arch your back, trying to feel him even deeper. “Please,” you beg. 

“Please what?” He asks in a teasing tone. 

“Fuck me, please.”

“What do you think I’m doing, sweetheart?”

Asshole.

“Harder,” you plead. 

He hums, acting like he’s thinking about it, and he ultimately decides to oblige. His lips meet yours again for a deep kiss as he snaps his hips forward, harder this time. 

As his movements become more intense, the room fills with the obscene sounds of his hips meeting yours and heavy breaths from both of you. 

“That’s it,” he grunts. “Just like that. Good girl.”

It doesn’t take long for you to feel like you’re right on the edge of coming for him again. You whine as the overstimulation begins to set it. 

“Steve– I’m–”

“I know,” he pants, fucking you even harder. “Let go for me.”

That’s all you need. Pleasure crashes over you in waves as you cry out his name. 

Your climax spurs his own. His hips stutter and his movements come to an abrupt halt as he spills inside you.

Silence takes over as you both focus on catching your breath again. 

It’s a chuckle from Steve that pulls you out of your blissful daze. 

“I think the question should be whether you can keep up with me,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

Through heavy breaths, you let out a laugh. “No fucking kidding.”

Tag list: @patzammit @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @astheskycries @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @turtoix @harrysthiccthighss @mrspeacem1nusone @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @xoxabs88xox @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21 @mrsgweasley @pandaxnienke @brandycranby @pursuedbyamemoryy

[edward-munson]

outrageous lingerie | E.M.

Summary: You buy an exceptional underwear and your friends are making a deal for your own benefit.

Warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), oral (m receiving), masturbation (m receiving), vibrator playing

Word count: 2.9k

"Oh, you're totally going to wear this at the camping!" Robin squealed cheerfully while you were sitting on Nancy's bed as she finished packing her bag.

"No, I'm definitely not wearing this!" You rebut her idea and look at Nancy, who holds an amused smile on her face "Nancy Wheeler..."

"What?" She lifts her hands in surrender, holding back her wish to laugh "I mean, it should be fun. Come on, let's make a deal. If you do this, we'll give you two hundred"

"Woah, wait" Robin chimes in "I admit I'm pretty curious and excited to see how this works, but I am not gonna pay that much just for her to wear vibrating panties!"

You glare at her for being too loud and she shrinks back to sitting on the bed. And as this conversation wasn't embarrassing enough, Eddie seemed to have heard your commotion as he passed by Mike's bedroom. He halted in his tracks, walking backwards, stopping right in front of her door. You all snap your heads towards the curly haired man, who's mischievously grinning.

"Vibrating panties?" He asks and you throw them both a death stare "I'm in. How much are we talking about?"

"We" You interrupt "Are not doing anything"

"Please! I mean, the worst thing that can happen is for you to come in your pants" Robin stands next to you, snaking an arm around your shoulders "And you're making money out of it"

Eddie eagerly crosses his arms behind his back, still smiling at you as you roll your eyes in annoyance "Can I do it?"

"No"

"Please?" He begs.

"No"

"Then why did you even buy it?" Nancy asks, wriggling her eyebrows. She knew why you were willing to bring the piece of fabric to the camping. She was the one you went for help.

"Yeah, honey. Why not make good use of it since you spent your sweet money on that?" Eddie tries to convince you, but he's only making it rather worse.

"First of all, you were not supposed to hear this conversation. It's a girl talk" You shove your pointer finger on his chest and he snorts at you "And second, I wanted to do an experiment. I only asked Nancy if she had ever done it, but Robin is nosy as it is"

Your friend scoffs and pouts playfully "I am your best friend, you should've talked to me!"

"You're still a virgin, Buckley, no offense" You watch as she blushes and flips you off. "Okay, we're done with the conversation"

"How about we make it 50 each?" Eddie pressed.

Both girls shared a glance and agreed to his terms.

"Hey, this is not consensual. It's my underwear, you can't just force me to wear it!"

"It's good money, sweetie. We promise we won't tell Jonathan and Steve" Nancy goes back to finishing her bag.

"Yeah, because that wouldn't be the worst thing to ever happen"

"How would you even wear that out in the woods with all of us there anyway?" Eddie questions, confused with your idea.

"Nancy was going to help me and control the remote. Now, can we drop the conversation?"

But they didn't. Because now Eddie was curious why you picked Nancy to do that, when he could be the one just for the fun. But you bombed him with a pile of pillows, while he still mocked you and your idea. They still thought it would be a good idea if he did it and wouldn't shut up about it. Until you arrived at the far forest out of Hawkins. The place was peaceful and perfect for the moment, considering it wasn't cold nor was it hot. There was a wooden table by the lake, and there was enough space for your tent. You and Robin were sharing a tent, while Jonathan and Nancy would be sleeping together, but Eddie wanted to sleep in his own tent, leaving Steve out.

The entire day, while you were all enjoying the warm lake swimming and playing chicken, Eddie couldn't stop looking at you. He was being a dork and joking, yes, but he wasn't stupid. He couldn't stop thinking how it would happen if you wore the panties, and what you would look like wearing them. And it wasn't helping that you were wearing a nice matching bikini set, the bottom of it only being supported by the tied straps on the side.

You and Eddie were pretty close, intimate enough to make jokes of the kind, and even giving each other advice about sex life. Not that you actually needed them, and it's also not like you knew everything, but he was more inexperienced than you. He hadn't slept with many girls before. Even though it might look like he's a nerdy virgin, he definitely knows how to practice the art of being a tease. He knows you like his tattoo, he always makes sure to leave them showing whenever he wears a t-shirt, or when he's shirtless, like today. He lies on the floor above a spreaded sheet, leaning against his elbows as he gets sunbathed.

You try to avoid looking at the way his body hair trails down his stomach, reaching the waistband of his swim shorts. You love the way his abs contract when he leans back and his biceps become more prominent. And the realization that he's going to be the one in charge of the remote for the toy is giving you a headache. You tried not to make it too obvious that something was going on, because as soon as you put it on after taking a shower, it's when the show begins.

"Okay, so" He shoots you a smile, but you don't see it as comforting in any way "I'll give you the signal when Robin finishes her shower. We sit down and make our plates. You're done eating, I'll start"

Eddie says it with such an amused look, it's frightening you. You know what you signed up for. Not exactly signed up for it, but you're starting to regret buying it.

He's expectantly waiting for you to finally leave the community bathroom, clasping the remote in the pocket of his jeans as he helps Jonathan cook the sausages. Steve and Nancy are setting the table while Robin is the last to shower. You're stalling for time as you crouch in front of your bag, getting up the courage to finally go outside and sit with them at the table.

The toy is already resting against your cunt, you're wearing a skirt, and it feels completely strange. It's not an uncomfortable sensation, but it's not pleasant either. And the fact you have never tried it before seems to be another reason for you to rip it off. But the money. Think of the money. You take a deep breath and leave your tent, seeing Robin getting to her seat. You sit beside her and watch Eddie sitting across from you. He seems unfazed, holding the cutlery with both hands as it makes you feel relieved. You serve yourself and start eating.

One smooth movement and Eddie pushes the button for the first pattern. There are, like, 11 of them. In a subtle movement, your legs squeeze shut and you snap your head at him for a second. He's still eating his dinner like nothing really happened, both hands on sight. You look to your side, Robin clearly distracted talking to Steve about whatever. Fine, that wasn't bad, you could take it.

Not one minute later, he pushes the button to the fifth pattern that sends rhythmic waves of vibration. This one pushes you a little off to the edge of your seat, and it doesn't stop. When you look up at him, he's not looking back. But he's holding a smirk on his face when he eats a small piece of his omelet. Your knees start to falter when he changes the setting and the pace increases to something you can't exactly control.

There's a small faint buzz under the table, but the parallel conversation and the low music overcome the sound of it. You try to avoid giving it your attention and turn to Nancy, who's talking with Eddie naturally. And when Steve mentions your name about your last trip to Chicago, there's a jolt vibration cursing through your folds in a painful way and you almost buckle your hips.

"We got lost after we left the zoo and it took us almost one hour to find the others. And Dustin almost started crying to you, remember?" He asks in the midst of a chuckle and you force a laugh out.

You're going to fucking kill Eddie. He was not supposed to be doing this before you were finished eating. You swing one leg on top of the other to prevent the toy from continuing buzzing, but it's no use.

"He was so scared we wouldn't find them. And he gave Jonathan the biggest hug I've ev–" Your voice cracks all of a sudden and you glare at Eddie, who's seemingly enjoying your struggle. "God, I think it was a bug"

He snorts. Robin knows the reason behind your abruptness, but she's more discreet than he is. Steve resumes the conversation, not even noticing the way you sit uncomfortable. You can't stop shuffling on your seat, while Eddie keeps changing the patterns to whatever he wants. It doesn't get any better when you stop focusing on the conversations, feeling the waves of vibration tingling against your pussy. It becomes insufferable when you notice him glancing at you with a glint in his brown doe eyes, his head resting against his hand while the other hand stays under the table and he watches you.

You send him a knowing look and he smiles widely, pushing the button again and the same jolt wave hits your bundle of nerves. You squeal unwittingly and buckle upwards, the toy playing over your clit starts making you feel in complete shock from the sudden pleasure you're feeling. Your friends all look at you with creased brows and you send them a forced smile.

"Oh my God" You wince with the new patterned wave and force yourself up "I think this sausage is making me sick!"

You feel the lame excuse weighing over your shoulders when you leave the table, running out to the bathroom, screaming like there was really something wrong with the sausage. You lean over the sink, hands gripping the edge with shaking fingertips. Eddie doesn't really bother to turn it off even when you're not on the table, because the toy works from a good range and you hate it.

He stands by the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest and the same dirty smile on his face. You can see the remote against his palm and huff. "Can you give me a fucking break?"

"No can do, sweetie"

You shove him by the shoulders, walking past him as you round the community bathroom. There's a slight distance between the trees you're standing against and the table by the lake. They can't see or hear you.

"Where the hell are you going?" He asks as he follows behind, trying to catch up on you.

"To get my revenge"

"What-" You startle him as your hand flies down to his crotch and he stumbles back "The fuck are you doing?"

You slightly squeeze his bulge and Eddie lifts his head from his growing arousal to you, but he can only see your lopsided smile as a response.

"Okay, you wanna play that game?" He changes the pattern and the vibration sends you to a frenzy, your legs squeezing shut immediately.

"Eddie, please-"

"Yes, sweetheart?" His voice is almost a nagging, honeyed tone that he makes sure to use when you're this vulnerable.

"Eddie, I swear to God!" Your hands fumble with his belt, grazing the skin of his happy trail. He looks down at your fingers that quickly unzip his jeans and lower them.

He keeps pressing the buttons, changing the pace of the waves. You're in a mixture of pleasure and pain. The high and low of the toy makes you squirm.

"What the hell are you trying to do, sweetheart?" Eddie's voice drops an octave when you pull his boxer down and finally grip his cock tightly.

"Revenge" You respond with eyes locked on him. He immediately throws his head back and groans when you stroke him, but you freeze your movements and he snaps his eyes open. "See? Not so good when I do that, right?"

He wraps his hands around your fist and pulls you down to the grass with him, making you fall flat on his chest as he keeps his gaze at you. It only takes a second for you to forget the vibrator between your legs before you buckle your hips again. Your face is contorted and Eddie seems dumbfounded when he notices you're giving in to the game. He slowly holds your hand and slides it down to his aching cock again.

"Just... don't stop, okay?" He asks, uncertain. But you nod and start pumping him, using your thumb to collect his wetness, spreading the precum along his shaft. "Fuck, that's good sweetie"

He forgets the remote for a moment, relishing on your gentle fingers wrapping him up and down. His hips thrust upwards against your hand, losing his line of reasoning as he throbs into your hand. You rip him off his daze with a low moan, spreading your legs apart as you roll your hips against nothing.

Eddie presses another button and the vibration against your clit quickens, making you lightheaded, feeling your heart pounding against your chest. He's still fucking your hand absentmindedly, cursing through his teeth. You're both a mess of groans and whimpers, not even giving a shit about your friends.

"Eddie-" You feel the wetness of your pussy dripping down your ass, the fabric is soaking and you can't seem to be bothered about it.

"Ye- Yes, sweetie" He grunts when you squeeze his tip and stroke him up and down, rubbing your thumb over and back on the head of his cock "Oh fuck"

He hits the back of his head against the tree and changes the pattern in response to your movement. While you twist your hand around his length, you feel the jolt wave hit your swollen nub and it makes your arms become wobbly. You watch as he slowly starts to crumble down when you run your fingertips softly against his frenulum, flicking it from side to side.

Eddie knows he pushed the last pattern, meaning the jolt is three times more powerful and, thereafter, you're going to cum pretty soon. But he's in a shocked state when you suddenly dive your head down his slick cock, your mouth wrapping around his girth and your tongue savoring his taste. His hand rushes to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

You're in a blissful stupor of lust and you don't care. You and Eddie have been too close for like forever, and you don't think this would ruin your friendship. You feel too comfortable and safe and it's obvious how attractive he is. You bob your head up and down, sliding your mouth to the base of his cock, your throat almost swallowing his tip.

"Sweetheart, I'm gonna-" He hisses when you hollow your cheeks. And when he throbs inside your mouth, you feel your own apex building up in a twisting knot in your stomach. You only pull back to breathe and heave his name.

His hands are still tangled in your head, pulling you back only a few inches just so see him fucking your mouth. His eyes drift to your parted legs, your rolling hips and your glistening pussy that sparkles with the moonlight. Eddie hears you whimpering against his cock and praises you. He watches your belly contort and takes a sharp inhale when he sees you're finally coming. Your hips halt and you start to convulse under him, your legs immediately closing as you still cum in your panties.

You roll your tongue on the tip of his cock and suck him off, draining the life out of his body. It feels like there's something about to snap inside of him when you unconsciously push the panties to the side after your orgasm and you leave your glistening pussy exposed for him to see you. It's the uphold he needs to finally come undone. He spurts inside of your mouth, he forgets the remote was still clasped in his hand. That's the reason why you pulled the fabric to the side. You take all of him, using your tongue to overstimulate him and bring him to the edge of hysteria.

You pull back and lick your lips with his dick still on your hand, and you look up at him with hazy eyes. He's smiling at you lazily, his curls are messy and he feels the blood rushing through his veins as his head pounds.

"Shit, that was so... incredible" He pants. You help him pull his jeans up and he leans against the grass.

You're still exchanging glances. The staring doesn't make you blush, it makes you feel... eager. It makes you want to cling to him. He feels a shift between you two. You didn't seem to notice your skirt had ridden up. Neither had you seen your how wet and exposed your pussy was, but the sexual tension was still in the air and Eddie didn't give you time to recollect yourself when he caught you and latched his lips against yours.

Your first reaction was to cradle his face with both hands, his tongue sliding against yours in a feverish, but quick kiss. He slithered one hand down your waist and pulled your skirt down, squeezing your ass "We're not done yet, sweetheart. Can you meet me here later?"

You only nod, speechless at his sudden action towards you. He helps you up and you walk down the path leading to the tents, where you grab your bag and follow to the bathroom, finally getting rid of the soaked panties. Your legs are still shaking when you change it to a new underwear and clean yourself. You feel the headrush taking over you at the thought of meeting Eddie later.

He most definitely wasn't thinking when he gave the idea. He didn't know how it would end up and now, as he sits next to Jonathan while they smoked a joint, he can't stop thinking about fucking you senseless in your tight little skirt under the moonlight.

You're not even sure how your friends are going to react when they hear how the story turned out.

@kellyxo1 @sammybrrr @zafetycar @andvys @hellfire--cult @skeltnwrites @stevie-petey @ghost-proofbaby

[astarioffsimpmain]

Hello my dearest!

Please can I have a public love confession from Gale? 🥰

Hi my love!! You absolutely can!

Post-battle adrenaline emotions, my beloved.

Warning: Canon-conforming violence

"You're not allowed to die!"

You heard Gale's voice as you went down with a cry. The shadow-cursed ghoul had managed to cross the threshold of your Spirit Guardians spell and slashed its claws through your torso. Your breaths came in strangled sounding gurgles as you lay on the ground beneath it, awaiting its final blow. But just as you closed your eyes and sent a prayer to Ilmater, the creature was engulfed in flames and succumbed.

You hoped to see a familiar purple robe next; if Gale's face was the last thing you ever saw on this plane, you could embrace the afterlife with peace. But it was not the wizard who reached you first. It was Shadowheart, kneeling over you, uncorked bottle in hand. "Drink, fast!" she said, and you had no mind to argue. The liquid was sour on your tongue - peach and lemon, battling for dominance; a potion of greater healing. So the cleric had kept one stashed away somewhere. You smiled, even as your nose scrunched up at the flavor.

'Th-tha-" You tried to whisper a thanks, but all that came out were gargles, and Shadowheart stopped you.

"Don't speak. Let the potion take effect properly or you won't make it through this." You nodded and fell silent, feeling your muscles twitch and ache as they stitched back together. The feeling was wildly uncomfortable, but welcome all the same. Moments later, you felt head against your cheek, and your eyes snapped open, locking with golden-brown ones - laced with concern. You attempted a small smile, wanting to show him you'd be alright, but his expression didn't change. He looked to Shadow.

"Did you reach her in time?"

Shadowheart nodded, and the wizard's shoulders slumped in relief. He looked back at you, a glimmer of something new in his eyes. This time, when you smiled at him, he returned it - if with more than a bit of worry still laced in it, and before you could process what was happening, he was leaning down close to you. You thought he wanted to say something to you alone, but when his soft lips met your own, your heart stopped in your chest. "I couldn't bear to lose you," he whispered against your mouth and you melted into him, a shaky hand rising to meet the back of his neck to hold him in place.

"Can you two save the heartfelt confessions until we're back at camp? And possibly alone?" Shadowheart interjected, and you stole a glance at her. She wore a soft smile on her face, and when she caught you looking, she chuckled. "It's about time," she added gently, helping you sit up properly. You felt your face flush and shared a flustered look with Gale, whose own cheeks were now dusted a light pink.

"We'll speak more about it tonight, yes?" he said quietly, and you nodded.

"Speaking may not be all we do," you replied cheekily and his face turned redder.

"Rhyester's eyes, you'll be the death of me," he muttered, running a hand over his face.

~

fin

Tagging, Darlings: @knightofmight01 @fanon-and-canon @just-a-refrigerator @micropoe10 @worfs-glorious-hair @serenaoffaerun @nerissa-dekarios @optimisticgrey

[chrystal-ink]

Shadow x GN reader

Hot Shower

NSFW Minors do not interact

Content warning: Smut, reader has a vagina, vaginal fingering, hand job, penis in vagina sex, sex standing up, overstimulation, kinky-ass shit with the showerhead (i don't know how else to describe it lol) Note: please do not repeat any of these actions without proper safety measures use a non-slip mat or you will likely end up in the hospital.

you heaved a sigh as the hot water rushed down your back melting some of the stress away. it had been a hard day and you needed to wash it off before you could continue with your evening.

the pulsing mode on the showerhead hit your back lightly massaging the tension out of your shoulders.

as you were getting ready to rinse off and cook dinner you heard the front door open. Shadow must have come home.

"Y/N?" he called out.

"I'm up here" you called down "Just taking a quick Shower I'll be down in a minute."

before you knew it you heard the door to the bathroom open and shut.

"No need I need to clean myself off too" Shadow said taking off his gloves and stepping into the shower behind you.

he wrapped you in an embrace clearly exhausted after a long day.

You could tell he just got back from a mission his scent enlightening your senses.

"How was your day my love?"

"Exhausting, my boss keeps getting after my ass about the most minute details." you responded

"I'm sorry about that love, is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just existing helps honestly... and maybe a back rub"

shadow gave a low chuckle his sultry voice echoing throughout the room "I'm on it my love" he placed his hands on your shoulders and began gently massaging them.

you hummed in pleasure as he made his way down your back.

as he was massaging you he couldn't help but admire the way you looked, your bear back glistened as the water cascaded down making your fur look glossy, almost glasslike. beads of water stuck to your hair and ears like beautiful fragile pearls. the scent of your soap invaded his nose comforting him and drawing him closer into you. and then your beautiful humming soft and comforting, he wanted to hear you more and hear you shout his name in pleasure.

you had a stressful day after all, it was his duty as your boyfriend to help you relive some of that stress. and if he needed to use his body to do it than so be it.

"You missed a spot my love mind if I help you get it? and you can keep telling me about your day."

"sure dear" you responded a smile evident in your tone.

you began spilling about how your boss was annoying and venting about one specific co-worker who was a constant thorn in your side. all the while shadow detached the shower head from it holder bringing the pulsing water down closer to your back. he lowered the nozzle lower and lower down.

"and don't even get me started on Brenda she can be such a- such a" your breath hitched as you felt a warm pulsing sensation against your folds. looking down you saw that Shadow had moved the shower head between your legs the pulsing water tickling your folds drawing you into a state of arousal.

"Sorry love just want to make sure you're all clean, please tell me more about Brenda."

"Who?" you asked your mind growing foggy with pleasure

Shadow gave a low hum of approval "Good just what I wanted to hear."

Keeping the showerhead in place he moved one of his hands up to your chest grabbing a breast he gently massaged it bringing a moan to your lips.

your pussy clenched hoping to grab onto something but much to your dismay the water could not satisfy you, not the way that he could.

"Shadow mmm please I need smmore friction"

Shadow enjoyed the way your words slurred when you were getting pleasure, so he obliged removing the showerhead he put it back in it's place the water once again beginning to flow off the two of you.

he reached his hand around you teasing your entrance with the gentle brush of his fingers.

Of course he was teasing you now. you thought to yourself well two can play at that game.

reaching back your hand grabbed hold of his crotch his penis not quite out of it's hiding place yet just his tip poking out of his fur. which was all you needed to bring him to his knees.

swiping your thumb along the end shadow let out a yelp. you giggled as you repeated the action a low growl escaping shadow's lips.

with every small movement you made you coaxed his cock out until it sat heavy in your hand.

"still feel like teasing me love?" you asked playfully.

Shadow pressed a finger against your clit forcing a gasp to escape your lips.

"Always." he responded inserting one finger into you.

You squeezed on his cock forcing a moan to escape his lips.

"that's too bad"

you began slowly stroking his length the two of you moaning in tandem as he pressed his single digit against you he inserted his second and third finger as a plea for you to speed up which you accepted.

Shadow pressed against you walls with an urgent force it seams your actions had motivated him to please you correctly after all. you moaned as his fingers pressed against your sweet spot the pressure beginning to build up in your abdomen

you could tell Shadow was close too a whimper falling from his lips a silent request to let him cum inside you. you let go of his cock just as the tension in your abdomen broke cum mixed with the water dribbled down your leg.

before you could recover shadow turned you around and gently pushed you into the wall behind you knocking down shampoo bottles and soap in the process.

he plunged his lips into yours. His hips bucking against you begging for entrance his hand grabbing your waist promising to keep you steady you lifted you leg up wrapping it around his waist allowing a clear opening for Shadow's cock.

not wasting a second he inserted himself into you thrusting wildly against you screams escaped your throat, you hadn't had time to come down from your orgasm yet and the way Shadow was going at it was bringing you close to the edge once again.

Your fingers clawed against his back clinging to him for balance. Your actions only encouraging him to go faster once again building up the familiar tension in your core.

Your vision blurred as your mind grew foggy. your walls closing around him. fluids spilling out of your pussy as he pushed deeper and deeper into you, his cock creating a sweet pressure between your hips.

In a moment Shadow became all that you knew his cock became your lifeline with each thrust your walls grew tighter, his lips against yours was the only thing you wanted to taste for the rest of your life.

You were ready to snap once again. you called out for your lover wanting his permission.

"Go ahead my love I'm almost done."

You screamed his name as you orgasmed a few more thrusts from him and he spilled into you his cock slipped out with ease as all the fluids dripped out of you.

Shadow held you up as your knees went week too cock drunk to stand or do much of anything else. he cleaned you off and shut down the water.

he carried you to bed not bothering with putting you in your clothes. once you were tucked in he went to get you a snack and some water to help build up your strength again.

"Wait where are you going?" you whined reaching out for him.

"I'm just getting you some supplies to help you build up your strength."

"aww you always take such good care of me"

Shadow smiled at you before kissing you between your ears. "I always will"

[starrdream]

Unsatisfied apology

Anakin Skywalker x f!reader summary: Anakin wants to make up... includes: not really smut but it's talked about and implied, whiny Anakin, make up sex, fast finishing, no orgasm

Your ex has fucked just about any girl that would let him in hopes of getting over you. As if your friends reminding you constantly wasn’t enough, anyone passing by his room could hear clearly. News flash, it didn’t help him one bit.

Though, the rumor that he still wasn’t over you did feed your ego.

One night, you were mindlessly revising for some tests you had later that week when a knock disturbed you. 

“Baby, please open the door. I need to talk to you.” The whiny yet familiar voice still made your heart skip a beat. Or two.

He must be drunk. You thought.

“What?” You huff as you open the door. Not only were you met with a completely sober Anakin, you were met with a crying one too.

Tears streaked down his rosy cheeks, eyes puffy and red. Who knows how long he was crying for.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, voice laced with concern.

“Can we talk?” He sniffles.

“Yeah” You blurted out before you could even think twice.

Opening the door further, you let him in. Ankin takes a seat on your bed and waits for you to join him.

The second you sat down he started ranting about everything.

“Baby I missed you so much…”

“I fucked up really bad, I know.”

“You’re all I ever think about.”

“I’ll never be over you.”

“I’ve been awful since the day we broke up.”

“No other girl compares to you..”

“Please..Give me another chance, my love.”

He pleaded and whined, all while still sobbing. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t considering it. Just one look at those blue eyes was enough to tear down any kind of resistance you’ve built over time.

“Please baby.” He begged. “Nobody is as good to me as you are. I’m so sorry” He whined, staring at you through teary eyes.

“I don’t know Ani..” You sighed, shoulders slumping.

“But you’re thinking about it.” He straightened up, a hint of excitement in his voice. “Please” He breaks off into a sob. “Let me make it up to you.”

With that, he pushes you down on the bed gently, climbing on top of you.

“Ani-” You try to protest, placing your hand on his upper arm. Unfortunately your voice comes out as a desperate whimper more than anything else, only urging him on.

“I’m so sorry for how I treated you baby” He mumbles, slipping your shirt off. He continues mumbling incoherent words that are interrupted by sobs and hiccups as he undresses you.

“Please say you forgive me..” He stares right into your eyes as he palms himself through his pants before slipping them down to free his rock hard cock.

God knows how long that was there.

“O-okay, I forgive you” You mumble, trying not to laugh at how childish he looks.

“You’re just saying that.” He pouts, sobbing again.

The next 5, 6 minutes of your life were the most confusing ones ever. 

Anakin is borderline desperate and his movements are jerky and uncoordinated. He's ground against your thigh like a puppy for at least 3 minutes before finally pushing his erection into your warmth.

He is good in bed, but this? If you didn’t know any better you could’ve easily brushed him off as a virgin.

He's whining and whimpering with every shallow thrust, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs.

Obviously, he did NOT make you finish before he did. He didn’t make you finish at all. The second he spilled inside of you, he collapsed on top of you while breathing heavily.

Upon realizing you were still very much unsatisfied he cried again.

"I'm sorry..I'm so sorry baby. I'm sorry.." He kept mumbling over and over for another 5 minutes through his soft cries.

Shoulders shaking, face going numb as he cuddled you. The tight hold he had on you while crying loosened overtime as he fell asleep.

[shikaizer]

DIRTY PLEASURE. 001

ᯓ Paige Bueckers x Reader x Caitlin Clark

KINDLY CHECK THIS OUT FOR THE PARTS, SUMMARY AND WARNING > SERIES MASTERLIST

"oh trust me, shes a whore. she must have fucked half of the girls in this class." aliyah whispered to you and scoffed

"there's no way.. i dont think shes the type to do that.." you sighed eyebrows raising

"bro, can you tell miss curious over here how fucked caitlin is?" aliyah nudged the girl beside her and she looked over at the two of you

"caitlin? about what?" she asked frowning, removing her earphones

"why so curious about her all the sudden?" she asked again the two of your eyes met

"well both of them are currently talking, but i kept telling her that shes was gonna fuck with her." aliyah rolled her eyes leaning her back to her seat

"ugh yeah, i mean my sister have told me about her, shes kinda fucked" she chuckled you cant help but feel stressed, you kinda liked caitlin, you really do, but you dont really know if it was just a small crush or if you just idolize her.

"yoo.i remember when she fucking slapped caitlin dude that was awesome!" aliyah exclaimed, you cant help but look down overthinking

this past few weeks, you and caitlin have been sharing some few messages, it was either her texting you first to see if you have finished a certain class, something about the latest lesson your prof have discussed, or when a work was given. and it suddenly came to the point where she would invite you to her to party whenever her game has finished, and sometimes would check on you, if you have eaten, and if your still up, this would cause the both of you to talk about some certain things that interests you.

until....

when your conversation have suddenly shifted to flowers to comfort, caitlin had other comfort in her mind. focusing on the thoughts of having a friendly conversation had made you think it was okay to talk about some vulgar thing.

caitlin : well i eat pussies whenever im stressed, lol.

reader : what?

caitlin : nothing

reader : does that feel good?

caitlin : eating pussy orrrr???

reader : yeah that

caitlin : want to know?

your cheeks heated up and you hesistated to type then a three dot started bouncing that made your stomach feel like its knotting

caitlin : do you??

reader : stop fucking around dude, im not believing your ass

your reply was not something you meant, you gave an small hint that you wanted her to prove that she was fucking serious

caitlin : you dont want to?

caitlin : im down whenever

reader : fuck off caitlin

you just rolled your eyes, realizing she must be joking around, but you mentally slapped your self for even thinking, MAYBE, maybe, she was actually serious, because actually, you really find her so damn atttactive, her body, her face, the way she plays basketball you can't even imagine the way she would handle you to bed. the way she flexes her muscles, and the way she would stare at you. it was all too hypnotizing to bare

"how about paige?" you asked looking up at the both of them to be met with a frowning face

"shes literally the same." aliyah chuckled and nudged the girl beside her laughing

"hey hey look at this, my friend send me this one like months ago." the girl beside aliyah reached out for her phone, scrolling down then setting the phone infront of you, it was a convo.

paige : aw come on. please?

bella : ugh, i already send you one

paige : please i really need a goodluck charm

bella : and im still mad at you.

paige : is this about sheila? i already told you i was just playing with her

bella : okay? biting her neck was playing?

paige : you dont bite your friends?

bella : no! especially not in the fucking neck!

paige : whatever, look just send it to me pretty girl, please?

bella : ugh fine.

bella : [attachment sent]

paige : fuckkk

paige : yummy as always

bella : yeah whatevs

bella : um

bella : hello?

bella : great leaving me on seen again.

your eyes furrowed thru the messages your heart beating fast, you are confused as hell. so confused and hopeless

"what the hell..." you muttured to your self and looked at her in disbelief

"so shes that type of person..." you muttured, and thought about caitlin, but she was just playing around with you right? so it was a whatever

"oh honey shes worse" she swiped and revealed another conversation and you leaned down again "this was like a few days after"

thursday 12:26

bella : great, leaving me on seen again.

today

paige : hey

paige : are you ignoring me?

paige : saw you in that skirt, looks tasty

bella : the hell do you want?

paige : woah okay what a way to say hello

bella : fuck you

paige : the hell did i do?

bella : fuck you! i literally saw you making out with someone, you even had the balls to look me in the eyes while doing that

paige : you saw that?

bella : i hate you, never talk to me again you dumb shit

paige : but we aint in a relationship tho?

bella : yeah okay, what did i expect from a person like you! all pussies and cunts huh? all that ya'll care for!

paige : damn okay

you have blocked this person

you leaned up fixing your posture and she pulled her phone back

"woah" you raised your eyebrows in disbelief, you really cant believe it

paige was somehow, the type who would text you alot more opposite than the one you just saw infront of your eyes, its so bad to the point you wanted to believe its fake.

paige : hey, saw you at the court today you looked lost, sorry i didn't get to help you geno was literally screaming at my face, did you find your way

reader : hey! its all good, thanks for the thought

paige : no worries, i really wanted to approach you earlier.

reader: noo its fine really

paige : im glad, just tell me if you need anything, will help.

but you know, you really cant judge because your just few weeks here.

. . .

SERIES MASTERLIST .

[hittmeandtellmeyouremine]

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙣𝙚 | 𝙣𝙤, 𝙞'𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨

pairing: bsf!rafe cameron x bear!reader

summary: with finals week finally over, you’re ready to enjoy summer, with rafe there to keep you company. as the day goes on, though, the feeling that's been looming starts to make its way to the surface.

warnings: swearing and suggestive content.

word count: 3.2k words

song: swim good - frank ocean

chapter one → socials chapter one →

©hittmeandtellmeyouremine | this is my only account across all social media platforms. please do not translate, copy, or repost any of my writing.

you felt the stress that had been looming over you for the past few weeks finally leave your body. it was finals week for college students, you included. this was your last final and your grade rode on this test.

you had been stressing about it all week, buried in your notes. you had gotten an A in every other class while this one was sitting at a B+. you vowed to make this final your bitch, you had to.

you woke up a few hours earlier to get in some extra hours of studying. you made sure to have a decent enough breakfast and some of an energy drink to really wake you up. one last test and then summer was all yours.

rafe drove you onto the mainland to take your test, your personal chauffeur. the whole drive there he reassured you that you were stressing way too much about this test, you had it in the bag. school was never really rafe's thing, he barely skimmed through college. but he knew how much it meant to you, sometimes he worried it meant too much.

it meant so much that he hadn't even seen you this past week because you were studying so much. he only saw you briefly when he brought you over food in an attempt to see you. that lasted all of twenty minutes before you kicked him out to get back to your studying.

this was part of the reason why he offered to drive you to and from your test, though he would've done it regardless.

you and rafe were close, super close. he was your best friend. back in middle school you and sarah had became friends, good friends. that somehow bled into rafe's life. the more you came around, the more time you spent with rafe. sarah started to do her own thing and where she started to fall short, rafe excelled. your relationship with him quickly became stronger than yours with sarah.

you became his favorite person and he became yours.

you pushed past the doors of the building, turning your phone back on and watching the previously silenced notifications load.

you looked up to see rafe leaning against his truck. you hadn't really paid much attention to him before your final, studying even on the way there. rafe kept telling you that you were gonna burn yourself out. you told him to shut up so you could focus. he shut up after that.

rafe cameron. he leaned back against his truck, arms crossed over his chest. he had on a white tee, black cargo pants, and black and white high top converse. that outfit was basically his uniform at this point. graphic or plain tee, cargos, and converse or sambas. oh, and a backwards hat, occasionally. he had one on today. you loved when he wore it backwards, having soft spot for when he did.

he stretched his arms, his shirt lifting up and letting you get a peek at his abs. it didn't help that his biceps looked like they were ready to bust out of the seams of his shirt any minute now. sometimes you thought he did this type of shit on purpose, he had to.

"you're not slick, you know" you said, rolling your eyes as you approached him.

"hello to you too, baby" he smirked, pushing off the truck and closing the distance between you two.

baby.

you don't remember when exactly that started but you know it was over the past year. you also remember your stomach doing a flip when it did. you didn't protest, so it just continued.

"how was it?" he asked.

"i got a 96" you confessed, a smile forming on your face.

"atta baby, i knew you had it in you" he smiled down at you.

"something like that" you mumbled, moving past him.

he chuckled but opened the passenger side door for you.

"what was that?" he smirked, watching you climb into the truck and toss your bag into the backseat.

"you heard me" you answered, he leaned against the door.

"such a smartass"

"you love it"

"mmm something like that" he teased.

"touché" you said, sucking your teeth.

he laughed, closing the door and walking around the drivers side.

you liked to joke around and call rafe your personal chauffeur because he basically was. did you have your license? yes. did he still drive you everywhere? also yes.

rafe liked to joke around and say it was because he didn't trust you on the road. you couldn't necessarily deny that claim, it was a valid reason. you cared more about blasting music and living your music video fantasy than paying attention to the road. that or you were a complete bundle of anxiety behind the wheel. there was no in between.

he let you drive his truck one time. you barely made it out of the cameron's driveway before he called it quits.

he's always driven ever since.

you guys had quite the drive back to the outer banks. in celebration of your accomplishment rafe let you blast whatever girl music you wanted to.

a frown formed on your face when the music paused and you saw topper's name pop up on the screen.

"give me a second" rafe said, pressing the "accept" button on his steering wheel.

"rafe cameron" topper dragged out.

"what's up, top?" rafe answered.

"where you at, you home?"

he was fishing for something.

"nah, i'm driving back to obx right now"

"so you're gonna be back in time for the party tonight?"

there it was. you looked over at rafe in confusion.

"yeah man, i gotchu" rafe confirmed.

"you bringing y/n with you?"

no.

"yeah, she's coming"

the hell you were. your eyes bulged out at rafe.

"no i'm not" you interrupted.

"oh, hi bear"

"hi topper" you focused your attention back at rafe, "you never said anything about a party, rafe"

"i tried to but you were busy studying. we're going, it's basically the summer kick off" he said, glancing over at you briefly before his eyes returned back to the road.

"you're 22, aren't you a little too old for summer kick offs???" you commented.

"okay, first of all, watch your mouth" he scoffed.

"don't tell me what to do" you scoffed right back, "i'm not going to a summer kick off. my summer doesn't start until the girls get here and that's tomorrow"

"okay, well my summer starts today and i want you there with me"

"your summer is all the time, you already graduated" you reminded.

"alright, yep. topper, we'll be there later" he said before reaching over and hanging up.

you honestly forgot topper was even on the phone, hearing all your bickering. your music resumed, not that you cared.

"rafe, i'm serious. i wanted to wait until they got here" you said, your tone approaching one that could be categorized as whiny.

"baby, i know you are but we'll only be there for a little while. plus, once your friends get here i'm gonna have to share you with them" he grimaced at the last part.

you debated it in your head.

your best friends we're finally coming back from college. anora, lina, parker and you together again. it was one of the parts of summer you were most excited for.

your group was literally inseparable in highschool. well, until you guys separated. lina went off to start her modeling career in new york, parker went to a fashion school in chicago, and nora was still close by but a decent drive. you actually both went to the same college but she stayed on campus while you didn't. with her spending the majority of her time on the mainland, you only saw her once a week if you were lucky.

you were dying to have them all at arms length again.

nora was packing up her stuff today and would be back tonight. fortunately parker and lina both flew in tomorrow. rafe knew this by heart because when he did actually hear from you this week, it was all you would talk about.

he was happy you were happy. it was bittersweet for him though because other than the weekly outing when he brought you to see nora, he had you all to himself for the last few months. and everyone knew rafe was not one for sharing.

rafe quickly realized how attached he had gotten, a long time ago. he spent more time with you than he did with anyone else. sometimes he even thought he spent more time with you than he did himself.

you wanted to go shopping? rafe let you drag him along. you wanted something sweet at 1 in the morning? rafe would take you in a heart beat (and pay). you were sat at your desk doing your assignments? rafe would lay in your bed and scroll on his phone until you were done. rafe was going golfing with the guys? he would drag you along to sit in the golf cart. rafe had some business deal where he needed to go somewhere further out? you were in the passenger seat of his range rover.

you two were inseparable.

he would never admit it to you but he was having a hard time processing the fact that that was going to change. he knew he shouldn't have been upset. these were your best friends and he did get along with them, despite the banter. but god did he like having you to himself.

"text nora, see if she's gonna be back in time and we can pick her up on the way there" he said, it was an olive branch to get you to agree.

he looked over at you to solidify his suggestion.

"topper's been asking about her anyway" he mumbled.

nora had a... thing with topper, if you could say that. he took her out on a few dates and decided she was the love of his life. she thought it was sweet, a little much but sweet. plus he had money and bought her things whenever she had the time to respond. not that she needed it, nora was an independent woman who had her shit together. but it was nice that he did anyways.

rafe was just glad topper had finally stopped bitching and moaning about his sister.

"okay, fine" you mumbled, opening up your messages with nora.

"that's my girl" rafe cooed, one of his hands going to your thigh. his thumb rubbed small, approving circles on it.

my girl.

another thing that you can't remember origin of but you knew you liked it. loved it, even.

you pretty much spent the rest of your car ride texting nora. it took the smallest bit of convincing but she was quick to agree. while you were occupied with that rafe took the opportunity to play his own music, rap seeping through the speakers.

when you finally looked back up from your phone you guys were already heading back into the outer banks, passing the 'welcome' sign.

"are we going to mine or yours?" you asked, looking over at him.

it was part of your routine. you always ended up at one of your houses. it was just a matter of who's.

you saw his jaw clench slightly, it was so faint that no one else would be able to tell. but you did.

"yours" he answered, "my dad's home today and i don't really feel like dealing with his shit right now"

his hand squeezed your thigh slightly before his thumb rubbed over the spot in a soothing manner.

"mkay"

"i need to get gas" he mumbled, turning into one of the town's gas stations.

his hand withdrew from your thigh as he turned the car off. he looked over at you for a moment. his blue eyes ran over your face, your eyes glued back to your phone as you typed away. your group chat with the girls was blowing up with speculation and a side of interrogation after the recent instagram posts. his hand reached over and gently grabbed ahold of your face to get you to look over at him.

"you want somethin'?" his thumb gently brushed against your cheek.

your stomach did another little flip.

"i'm thirsty" you nodded.

"yeah, from all that fighting me you did" he smirked, making you roll your eyes.

he got out of the truck, going to close the door behind him.

"i didn't even tell you what i wanted" you called after him.

"you don't need to, i already know" he answered as he walked into the gas station, waving you off.

he was right, he did know what you wanted. he handed you the bottle before he went to pump the gas. even if he hadn't handed you the right one, he bought a bag full of others for you later. he knew you like the back of his hand.

"what time is the party?" you asked when he got back in, driving to your place.

"kelce said it starts at nine, figured we'd get there around like ten?"

you nodded, mentally calculating when you would have to start getting ready.

as if he could read your mind, "start getting ready around eight, baby"

a smile crept onto your face as you looked over at him.

"i know you" he reassured, glancing over at you.

the rest of the ride to your house was filled with you singing along to whatever song rafe let you blast which just so opened to be a frank ocean song. windows down, wind in your hair, and the biggest smile on your face. rafe watched you, something he could quite pin stirred inside him.

you and rafe spent the rest of the afternoon in your bed, watching whatever show you had convinced him to watch. he wasn't really one for watching tv, he'd rather play video games or quite literally anything else. you were the opposite though, you loved a good show. and rafe would do anything to make you happy.

after ordering a pizza for you two to eat, he went home around seven to change.

the minute he left you felt... hollow almost. cold, even. it was a strange feeling you tried your best to ignore.

you filled the next hour with an everything shower and every pop princess you could think of. somewhere in the midst of your break between showering and actually getting ready you had switch over to your chill playlist. you switched over to your crash out playlist again as you started to get ready.

halfway through the process, in the midst of picking out your outfit and starting on your hair, nora texted you. you paused everything you were doing and sunk to the bathroom floor to respond.

your heart dropped when you read the message of her cancelling. she still hadn't finished packing and was gonna get in later than she expected. you understood, plus she was gonna drive you guys to get parker and lina tomorrow so she was gonna need her sleep.

but it changed the plan you fought to agree to earlier and you were too deep into it to cancel now.

you spent so long sitting there trying to mentally recover from the change of plans that you hadn't realized how late it had gotten until rafe texted you to let you know he was on his way.

that woke you right up and you began flying around your room to get ready. you rushed in so many things at once that you were practically on autopilot. you were snapped out of your trance once the doorbell rang.

you bare feet padded down the stairs of your house, rushing to open the door for him.

"hi, sorry. i'm almost ready. i just need to finish my hair and then we can go, i swear" you rambled, stepping to the side to allow him the space he needed to come inside.

it took rafe a second to catch up to what you were saying, his eyes too focused on what he was seeing to properly hear. the little black skirt you had on showed perfect off the thighs he had been struggling to keep his hands off of lately. then your top.

your fucking top.

it was one of those tops that looked like two pieces of fabric that tied in the front. you had been talking about them for the past few weeks, he remembered. calling them a "summer staple".

a flyaway top. yeah, that was it.

it showed off your cleavage perfectly. rafe had seen you in a bikini plenty of times, sure. a sports bra, a crop top, whatever. but this was different. he silently thanked god that you bought so many for the summer.

you were so frantic you didn't realized his gawking before turning and going back up towards your room. his pants felt slightly tighter than they were a minute ago. he swallowed and closed the door behind him before following you up.

you're still rambling when he follows you into your bedroom, leaning against the doorway of your bathroom. he watched as you stood at the sink counter, doing your hair. you hadn't given him enough time earlier to consider the jewelry you were wearing. you just got better and better.

"wait what?" he asked, his ears catching up to his brain.

"nora's not coming. she texted me saying that she was gonna get in late tonight and she wasn't up for it. i mean i get it, we have that drive tomorrow to get parker and lina but you know i hate when people cancel plans last minute" you explained, frowning.

rafe saw the anxiety set in quickly. he forced his eyes to tear away from your exposed skin. especially the tiny, cursive tattoo that was engraved on your side, making a slight appearance . god, wished it spelled out his name instead of what it really said.

"you look pretty" he said, you paused.

"thank you"

"i mean it, you're killing me" he said, eyes catching yours through the reflection of the mirror.

"rafe"

"i'm serious" he said, moving to stand behind you. his hands found their way to your hips. "if i was an insecure asshole, i'd tell you to go change"

your eyes stayed locked on his, finding it impossible to look away. not that you wanted to.

"but i'm not" he finished.

you were saved by the bell when his phone started to ring. he stepped back, taking the device out of his pocket and answering kelce's call. he still was close behind you as you finished up the last few touches.

he didn't do much to conceal his conversation which made it easy for you to make out most, if not all, of kelce's comments. one in particular you wanted to hang up and frame on the walls of your brain.

"you bringing your girl?"

"yeah, why wouldn't i be?"

the lines between your friendship and something more had been getting blurred for a while now, you both knew it, you both felt it. neither of you would come out and say anything about it though.

it didn't mean anything.

he finishes up his call with kelce as you finish getting ready.

you look pretty as ever. he almost regrets even inviting you, knowing guys would be eye fucking you the whole night. the good thing about being in the obx was that that's was all they would do, look. they knew better and if they didn't, they would sure learn better.

-

a/n: the first chapter ahhhh. what did you guys think??? i was fighting demons honestly not to make something happen right then and there. the parasite in me really, really wanted to but the writer in me said to make you guys wait a while longer. go read the social media chapter that ties into this because i think it's the funniest thing i've written!

chapter one → socials chapter one

masterlist

tag list: @princesspeaxhh

either comment or send me an ask to be added to the tag list!

[nonotnolan]

No Regrets

My roommate's body keeps looking at me like I'm supposed to be making the first move. It was weird enough when my roommate and his girlfriend swapped bodies for the weekend, but the unspoken tension was starting to become unbearable. "Seriously, Tiffany, you're starting to creep me out. Don't you and Daniel have plans for tonight?"

She just smiled at me. "No plans. I'm still deciding how I want to spend my evening. Daniel, though... he's taking my body out clubbing tonight. He wants to see how many free drinks he can score, and I think he's also planning to get laid." Gross. I knew better than to say anything out loud, but my face must have given me away. "Don't be such a prude, Jeff. You know we have an open relationship."

I tugged at my collar. "I know, Tiff, I'm sorry. I just... body swaps that cross the gender line still make me uncomfortable. It feels wrong, somehow. And, I mean, technically they are illegal."

"Oh please, get over yourself," she said, tossing herself onto his bed. "Swaps over 12 hours are also illegal, but that didn't stop you from hiring someone to take your Calc exam two weeks ago. You need to learn how to relax. Not everything you were told on Sundays is true, you know. Some things aren't actually all that bad. You're only clutching your pearls because society told you that swapping genders was bad. What harm is there, as long as both people consent?"

I wanted to argue, but I knew Tiffany was absolutely correct. There wasn't anything wrong with the two of them swapping bodies outside of society telling us that men and women could only swap with other men and other women. Which... given the way that their open relationship also defied societal expectations, I suppose it wasn't too much of a surprise that the two of them thought so little about swapping like this. "You're right, and I'm sorry. I... I'm trying, really. You've heard how conservative my childhood was. It's a lot to unlearn."

"Well, maybe it's time to start unlearning," she said, beckoning me closer. "You want to know the real reason I'm still here? It's because of you, stud. I'm here to see you." Did Tiffany just call me a stud? She had to be mocking me, but I could feel myself blushing all the same.

Tiffany started to unbutton my shirt, brushing her fingers along my exposed chest as she did so. I could feel myself growing erect. Were we... were we really doing this? They were in an open relationship, after all, it wasn't like he was helping Tiffany cheat on his roommate. With his roommate? God, Swappers made things confusing.

"I've seen the way you look at Daniel," she said, rubbing a hand across the stubble on my chin. "I love the man, but he's too straight and too clueless to pick up on those stares. And honestly, I can't help but think that you're too sheltered to realize you're even doing it half the time."

"I... thought I was hiding it better," I said, trying to steady my emotions. Her fingers started to tease my nipples, leaving me squirming with raw pleasure. "I still don't know if I'm bisexual, or gay, or just... Mormon. But I didn't think it mattered. He's already in a relationship with you. What I want isn't important."

"He's in an open relationship," she said, staring at me like I was a hunk of meat to be devoured. "He's also not here right now. I'm in control of this body right now, and I want to fuck you senseless. If that's what you want too, well..." Tiffany slipped her hand inside my waistband, giving my manhood a firm squeeze that had me gasping for breath. "Tonight's a perfect night to let loose. No regrets."

I couldn't hold back anymore. I leaned in for a quick kiss, which Tiffany returned with tongue. The two of us stripped down as fast as we could, though I made certain not to let her pull me onto the bed with her. "Not on Daniel's bed," I said, dragging her over to my part of the bedroom. "His sheets reek of frat boy sweat, and I doubt he has any lube."

"I, uhh... you're alright with being on top, right?" I asked, as I handed her the bottle of lube from my nightstand. It occurred to me that we hadn't actually talked through any plans, set boundaries, or anything like that. "The way you phrased it, I'm assuming that's what you meant, I just--"

"Stop. Thinking." Seeing Daniel's face looming over me, with a look of pure lust on his face, it was everything I never knew I needed. I started rolling over onto my knees before she yelled at me. "Not like that, stay on your back. I want to see your face as I fuck you senseless."

Tiffany spent the entire time telling me exactly what to do, and it was everything I could have ever wanted. She got me lubed, eased me onto her massive manhood, and railed me like there was no tomorrow. My chest was coated in strands of my own cum, while Daniel's cum slowly leaked out of my ass. I'd never had a no-hands orgasm before, but holy hell I could not believe how amazing that felt.

"I can't believe we just did that," I said, trying to catch my breath. She responded by scooping up some of the jizz off of my torso and putting it into her mouth. She was making an entire production out of licking it off of her finger, and I could feel myself getting hard again. "So, uhh... you... you'll be in Daniel's body for the entire evening?"

"If that's your way of asking me if I'd like to fuck you again? The answer is yes," she said, giving me a wink. "Even better, we might be able to make this a weekly thing," she added, standing up to grab some towels. "I don't think I'll have to fight too hard to convince Daniel to swap. What sort of straight man doesn't enjoy having boobs?"

God, I was falling for her so hard. What had I gotten myself into? Life was going to be a long, awkward hell once my roommate was back in his own body. And yet... I had to admit, I had no regrets.