#rare and elusive photo

[ambyandony]

Using the scraps from my Fugo cosplay for my school project

[bleaksqueak]

I needed to take a ref photo for the pages I was setting up and looked halfway decent (you know, instead of Swamp Creature), so whew.

see, I draw myself exactly how I look.

[archivalwrite]

some victor sketches

[demonic0angel]

Animal AU (click for clarity)

CW: blood and creepy stuff in the description

If I have to color Dani one more time, I’m going to riot 😭

Notes below: (very long and detailed)

+ Jazz is a melanistic gray wolf, Danny is an albino mule deer, Dan is a king cobra, Dani is a peregrine falcon. Some of these ideas are taken from my dp royal court ideas.

I associate Jazz with wolves and canines. She is very loyal and protective, which I think would be best associated with canines. I usually give her the largest animals possible (because of her height), and gray wolves are the largest of all wolves. She is melanistic due to the fact that I like her color palette of black and turquoise. It also gives her a special connection to Danny that I do on purpose where they are black and white.

Dan is associated with cold blooded animals in my mind, cold in demeanor, vicious, and slippery. He is a king cobra because king cobras are the largest of all venomous snakes. They are also not true cobras, which adds a nice connection to Dan as being the most different out of all of the halfas. Surprisingly, king cobras are rather friendly to humans, which might be because of how smart they are.

I associate Dani with fast and speedy animals, so I often give her the fastest animals I can find lmao. Peregrine falcons are the fastest birds in the world, due to their diving speeds. I like how Dani is considered a bird because she is very free-spirited and flighty in my mind. I love it because I think she’d be really independent and would love the sky. Peregrine falcons also mostly eat birds, just like how king cobras eat other snakes, so that’s pretty cool too.

Danny is both kingly and creepy, which describes deer very well. Mule deer are very common in the US, and you might recognize them due to the fact that the Great Prince of the Forest (in Bambi) is inspired by a mule deer. Deer are fascinating creatures because there have been many, many folklores and myths about them, but none can compare to the real facts. Deer are very heavily affected by diseases such as chronic wasting disease, which can cause very strange behaviors. They get up after death, they walk off after being shot at or run over, they kill themselves repeatedly, they eat other animals, and they walk on their hind legs. All in all, while deer are very majestic and beautiful, they are also very, very freaky. There is a sense of poetry in how they’re hunted, which also applies to Danny. I think deer describes him very well :)

+ Meanwhile, the Batkids are a wild assortment of animals. Dick is a white throated needletail, Jason is an argali sheep, Cass is a black footed cat, Tim is a red fox, Stephanie is a dingo, Duke is an African lion, and Damian is a domestic cat (specifically a tuxedo cat).

Dick was always meant to be a bird. However, I wanted him to be fast, but not a bird of prey (which are usually the top 5 fastest birds). So I chose a white throated needletail for him, who are believed to be the fastest (while flying straight). They’re very elusive and photos are rare :( they are, however, very round and cute, and they even have a patch of shiny blue feathers on their wings, as well as v-shaped white spots, similar to his Nightwing suit!

Jason is an argali sheep because I associate him with lambs and rams. Mostly because sheep and lambs are associated with God and religious sacrifices (*cough cough* Jason dying), as well as innocence, docility, and obedience. Jason, as Red Hood, defies the meaning and memories of his past life as Robin, so I like the idea of him being a “black sheep” and defying those expectations of him as well. Argali sheep are known to have beautiful horns, are a species of wild sheep that live in mountains, and are also the largest of wild sheep.

Cass is a black footed cat because I feel like she’s very feline in demeanor, and black footed cats are one of the best hunters in the animal kingdom, with an over 60% chance of having a successful kill. (I think African wild dogs are the highest with 75-85%. It’s hard in the animal kingdom.) I also think it’s very cute of her to be so small but so deadly.

Tim is a red fox because of his cleverness and smarts. Red foxes are common in America and are usually hunted because people thought that foxes killed their livestock and dug up corpses. Tim is either really loved or really hated, so I feel like a red fox both symbolizes his irl status and his intelligence in the comics.

Stephanie is a dingo for no particular reason. However, they are social creatures and loved due to the fact that they have a history with humans. They’re golden colored and Stephanie gave off the vibes of an Australian, I literally cannot explain myself.

Duke is a lion for the same reasons: none in particular. However, lions are noble and considered very powerful. In my drawing of him, he is still a young adult, so his mane isn’t fully grown yet :3 he is 100% a normal lion tho!

Damian is a domestic cat for a few reasons. He is meant to be cute while the others are considerably scarier. There would also be a sense of irony bc I imagine that Talia is a big cat like a tiger or panther. However, cats are known as good hunters for a reason, and they have good instincts and can be just as loyal as dogs. As such, I think that he would be a regular kitty :3 other choices included him being a leopard cub, but it would be more funny if he was so small while everyone else is so big.

+ Something something, the two people who have had their deaths impact them the most and are often considered their parents’ greatest failures are prey animals that are usually hunted for sport….

+ Other small relationships between animal forms: the assassins are small cat forms. Dan being an animal not from the Americas, which also symbolizes him being out of place in the timeline. The Phantom family are purposefully made very different but also connected, examples being: a predator, a prey, a flying animal, and a cold blooded animal, etc. The Batfam being more random/less connected than the Phantom family due to their different backgrounds/lack of blood relation.

+ Their animal forms are also hint at the couples that I like, which is most obvious with Jason and Jazz lmaoooo. However, it is also a little noticeable in Tim and Dani (bird and fox), and definitely a little more obvious in Dan and Dick (snake and bird; please refer to my first piece of work with them tee hee). Danny’s is vague because I’m a multi-shipper with him, so he’s prey while most of everyone else are predator animals 💀

+ There are a few ideas in this (not counting the Pet AU): 1) Danny, Jazz, Dan, and Dani become companions and helpers to the Batfam, able to transform when necessary but also like spending time in their animal forms. In exchange, the Batfam help them with whatever problems they have and also give them sanctuary, 2) A regular animal-characteristics AU where everyone (or most of everyone, if humans exist) are some sort of animal hybrid creatures in the regular modern world, 3) The same as idea 2 but more Warrior Cats-esque where they’re way more animalistic, form packs, and live in less urban settings.

+ Yes, in his more humanoid form, Dan would have his legs replaced with a snake’s tail. I can’t decide between Dick and Dani having wings attached to their backs, or them having wings that connect to their arms.

+ Extras: Sam is a thoroughbred horse, Tucker is an American alligator, Valerie is a wolverine, and Wes is a swan. Bruce is a giant golden crowned flying fox, Alfred is an emperor penguin, and Barbara is a pony (but tbh, I’m open to suggestions).

[amnhnyc]

No, you can’t pet that dog. ✋ Introducing the bush dog (Speothos venaticus)! This rare canid is so elusive that it was once known only from fossils and thought to be long extinct. It inhabits parts of South America from Panama to northern Argentina, where it can be found in packs of up to 12 individuals. With partially webbed feet, this critter is a skilled swimmer and spends much of its time around water. It hunts for a variety of rodents including agoutis, pacas, and capybaras.

Photo: Tambako The Jaguar, CC BY-ND 2.0, flickr

[joosthead]

skin || j.k. x f!reader

WARNING #1: explicit real person fiction ahead, dni if below 18. dni if anti-rpf

WARNING #2: explicit rpf/real person fiction content ahead. read at your own risk. dni if anti rpf, dni or read ahead if you simply don’t like rpf lol

₊˚⊹⋆ joost wants to make a song.

₊˚⊹⋆ for @spentandpent’s contest 😅🩷 (2 months late)

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader. notfamous!reader. normal au a.k.a. reader has an office job and attends university. reader is not dutch

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 10.3k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (established relationship, consensual audio recording during sex, f!receiving oral, mirror, ruined orgasm, overstimulation, squirting, vibrator, multiple orgasms, unprotected piv, slight breeding kink, creampie), kind of really porny i can't lie. pwp. crying both out of (momentary) sadness and because cumming 🩷 reader🤝being total crybabies🤝juno

WARNING #3: rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it. do not repost this on any other platform, screenshots or text alike. do not click ahead if you don’t want to read rpf. do not interact if you are below 18. how to block tags/words on tumblr.

₊˚⊹⋆ track(s) of the fic: “skin” by mac miller, “p power” by gunna

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: vibrator. go big or go home right 🩷 as always @howisjoostfanfictionforfree my partner in filth 🩷 @spentandpent for infecting me w the overstim brainworms 🩷 and lovely @xiaoflan for listening to me complain about this fic ! 😆🩷 i love and appreciate you all 🩷 the art for the header is by one of my amazing best friends <3

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni, anti rpf dni. 4th and final warning!

“Are you ready, mijn schat?” Joost asks in a soft voice, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. 

“Ready as I'll ever be, Joosti.” 

One of his nicest microphones is set up on your bedside table, wires crossing every which way, his laptop on the ground and hooked up to it.

This was an idea that came about spontaneously, as most things regarding Joost come about; on the train home together, sharing his wired earphones with each other and listening to your playlist of liked songs when Skin by Mac Miller came on. His ears perked up and his eyes brightened at the first few seconds, and you knew you were in for it. 

There’s a woman in the first few seconds—she sounds like she’s having a positively great time, mewling softly, panting in a way that sounds almost like you when Joost is fucking you good. This was on your playlist?!?! You couldn’t fathom a situation where you’d listen to this in public, but here you were, hearing it all as you watched Joost and his mouth drop open a bit. 

Your cheeks warmed and he poked you in the side—“Oh my god,” he said, taking your hand and shaking it. “You know what this means, right?” You shook your head no though you knew the answer—”Our turn!!!!!” He said it so loud that an old lady beside you gave him a dirty look, and he just smiled at her. “Can we? Can we?” 

“Joost.” 

“I just want to hear what it’s like—if I made a song and your beautiful voice was in the background like this or you were my little producer tag.” 

“Very creative,” you laughed, sarcastic. Secretly…you two aren’t exactly public about your relationship. He would post about your anniversaries, your birthday, Valentine’s Day, your vacations; they know you exist, and that he has a long-term girlfriend, but you were so private you were almost elusive. “You want my moan in the back of your song?” 

Something so…obvious under his belt. Something so loud. It was unlike you, and you knew it would never be released, at least not in the raw form he’d likely want it to be in, but it was still something. Something that made your stomach turn in that way that felt good and not scary, even with how rarely you were in the public eye.

You existed in the backgrounds of Joost, Appie, Alanis, Stuntje’s Instagram stories; you existed as a tag of a username, a pixelated and blurred out face in Joost’s photo dumps to protect your privacy. You exist out of the spotlight, in the background, not as the beat of his song, but you figure—it is only a matter of time until you join him in the sun. 

“Who better than you? I want you everywhere, schat. Your moan will become my trademark,” he reasons, and as always—master of persuasion, at least with you. “One time. And it’ll just be between us, okay? Or mostly for me, I love hearing you.” 

You decided in a quick second that you’d do it—all Joost has ever done is protect you, and even with your easily overthinking mind, this sounds fun as all hell to the little devil in your mind that wants everyone to know that he’s yours, you're his. No one else’s. Being possessive doesn’t come naturally in any other part of your life other than Joost. 

“Okay,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder, holding his hand in yours. “Let’s do it, Joosti.” 

“Wahhh—I love you!!!” Joost exclaimed, pressing a kiss to your forehead and going back to happily looking out the window. 

“Mijn meisje,” he says softly, and it makes your stomach turn, the smooth glide of his voice as you lie back onto your pillows. You imagine how it’ll sound in the mp3 file. “Thank you for doing this for me.” 

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, shaking your head. “We would’ve had sex anyway—why not make something of it?” 

“It’s a big deal to me.” 

You nod, “I can imagine.” Joost fiddles with a dial on the side of the microphone, presses a button somewhere else, tidies the wires. “What do you think it’ll sound like?” 

Joost snickers a little to himself before starting— “Agh! Joost! Fuck me harder!” he whines, high pitched and teasing. “Urgh, Joosti, you’re so huge inside of me!” 

“I do not fucking sound like that,” you laugh, slapping him on the shoulder to his barking laughter. “Schat, you’re so tight, I think I’ll cum in three seconds!” 

“Hey!” Joost says, laughing as he leans to you for a kiss. “Okay, it might be the truth but I think it’ll sound good. As long as it’s you, we should win a Dutch Grammy for this.”

Outside the window, it’s rainy; the roof is pelted with the droplets of water of an autumn in Amsterdam, loud and incessant and comforting. Your room in this old house is humid with the moisture, but you’re sure it’s mostly just the two of you and your warmth making it feel so stuffy. 

“We haven’t even made it yet and you want a Grammy?” 

“Why not? I know we’ll get one, don't doubt us,” he grins, slinking off the bed and crouching in front of his computer. Joost’s customary wired earphones are plugged into it and he places a bud in his ear. “Mic check, 1, 2, 3,” he says, Joost Klein style, the sound waves appearing on the screen. “This issssss me and my baby’s recording session number one—“

“Number 1? The only one, Joost.” 

“Okay, okay. Recording 1 of 1. Our ears only.” Pausing a little, Joost gets that expression on his face that lets you know he’s about to say something strange and he does: “Do you think we can make ASMR mouth sounds from this? Dutch kissing ASMR or something?”

“I think we can make more than mouth sounds when it comes down to it.” 

Joost laughs, lifting his computer and placing it on the corner of the table behind the mic; gets up close to it, whispering and tapping on the wood of your bedside table like the people in the ASMR videos you both watch at his behest before bed, “Explain to them what we are going to do, schat,” you laugh and he shushes you, “This is very serious work, we have to be quiet, shhhh.” 

“Uhm…” you say quietly, stifling back a snicker as you get close to the mic from the side. “We’re going to record us fucking—“

“Bad word, schat,” Joost whispers, shaking his head at you disappointedly, “Think about the advertisers.” 

Tapping on the metal body of the microphone, you roll your eyes and start again, “We’re going to have s-word—“

“That’s better.”

“And record the sound from it so Joosti can put it in a song,” you whisper and he nods, mouthing, “Good job!” and giving a thumbs up before he brushes aside your hair to put the other half of his wired earphones in your ear. 

Immediately, you’re met with the sounds of your shared soft breathing and Joost’s hollow tippy taps on the base of the mic. When he goes quiet, the pitter patter of the raindrops upon your roof are loud enough to hear clearly. “I turned up the sensitivity so we don’t have to move it around while we’re recording,” he says, and you nod. 

“I can hear that.” Every single sound and movement you make for the coming hours will be captured on this little waveform. Your voice echoes back to you in your ears, and you scrunch up your face. “I hate my voice.”

“I love your voice, mijn schat,” he says, getting on the bed in front of you. “Sounds even better when you’re saying my name.” Smiling at him, you settle back against your pillows in your prettiest pajama set, a camisole and a pair of loose shorts, both printed with small blue flowers all over. Joost takes the ribbed fabric of your shorts between his fingers, tickling your thigh, “This one is my favorite one.” 

“Every one is your favorite one,” you counter as you open your legs for Joost to sit between.

“As long as you are wearing it, schat—of course,” Joost says, sighing wistfully as he takes the earphones out from both your ears and drapes them on the nightstand. “Are you sure you don’t want to film? You’re so pretty.” 

You roll your eyes as he laughs—it was definitely a topic of conversation after the fact, recording video of it like you have a few times before, just isolating the sound after. You argued that the sound from a real microphone would be better, and he argued, “Why not both?” 

You shut it down, telling him that your room would just become your own personal porn studio if he did both and would never go back to normal, and he died of laughter as the old lady on the train gave you a shocked look and moved away.

No filming. At least not today. 

“Do you want your song, or do you want a video?” 

“That is an extremely hard decision, baby.” 

“Make it before I make it for you.” 

“I want my song,” Joost says, simply and finally, and you nod. 

“You’ll get your song.” 

Joost lies down on top of you and the weight is comfortable as he holds himself up with one hand and cups your face in the other. 

He hasn’t shaved in a few days, his stubble scratchy against your chin as he comes forward and kisses you, soft lips against yours, his body warm and heavy and already grinding his crotch against your center as he slides his hand up your side, bringing up the hem of your camisole. 

You’re hyperfocusing on all the sounds; you’re both quieter than normal, just the smack of your lips against each others, the licking of his tongue into your mouth; the sound of fabric against fabric as he grinds his hips into yours and groans, half-hard already; the shifting of Joost lifting your tank top and exposing your tits to his dilating blue eyes, getting back up off you on his knees. 

Joost runs his knuckles down the curve of your breast and over to the other, making your nipples pebble in the already cooling air, your muscles jumping and leaping with how sensitive you are. “How cute,” he murmurs, and your cheeks burn. There’s something different about him today—if you think about it, if you were a music artist and your girlfriend let you record audio of how good the sex is, you’d be cocky too. 

The confidence looks good on him, a small smirk on his lips as you gaze up at him through your eyelashes and take off your shirt completely, tossing it to the side and lying back again. 

Joost tugs on your shorts and you shimmy them down as he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, the sensation tying a knot in your stomach with want for him. “Why aren’t you taking off your clothes?” you ask, tilting your head to the side as he lies atop you again. 

“Just want to try something,” he says, placing a kiss between your breasts before he moves over to your nipple, taking it in his mouth and kneading the other breast in his hand. 

Grazing it lightly with his teeth, you let out a small hiss at the sensation before he closes his lips around it and sucks; your mouth drops open watching him as he does it, intent and content with his place on you. You just got him back after a month and a half away in Berlin working on music nonstop—you have an inkling that you both feel like this is where he belongs.

For a while, you both lie there as he mindlessly suckles at your tits, as you play with his hair and pretend like there isn’t a pool in your panties waiting to be addressed further than this—you don’t want to rush him. “Art can’t be rushed,” or whatever he says when he’s too busy editing visuals or tweaking his tracks in progress. 

Stifling back a sigh, you tug at the short hair on the nape of his neck, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak of your nipple. A tiny little mewl lets itself out of your mouth as he laps at it. Pulling back with a pop, nipping at the skin next to it—“Dude…” he starts. “You’re being… so quiet. Is someone a little shy, schat?” Joost grins, kissing you. 

You furrow your brows. You are but you’re not going to get called out by the most outgoing person you know like this. “No, I’m not.” 

“I think you are, you haven’t said a word.” 

“I’m not,” you insist, smiling once you realize that you have the perfect comeback. “You’re just not doing enough to make me say anything.” 

Joost’s entire face changes, falling completely flat with his eyes narrowed at you and you grin. “Oh, I haven’t done enough? Is that what you said, lieverd?” 

“I don’t wanna say it’s not enough. But definitely not enough to give you your Dutch Grammy award-winning sound bite. The pace you're moving, we’ll get a participation trophy at best.” 

“I’m not doing enough—I am lying on your tummy letting you berate me while I suck your boobs, don’t think I forgot about the last month!!!” he exclaims, voice rough and accusatory and silly, smile so wide as he jabs his finger in your face. “Don’t think I forgot!!!” 

“You’re still on that?” you laugh, squishing his cheeks, getting his hair out of his eyes. 

“Duh,” he grumbles. “It’s half the reason why I wanted to do this.” 

“Forgive me, then.” 

There’s been no time for you to call or Facetime him in this past month; only texting and one-sided voice messages from Joost pleading for you to send him a voice memo back but you’ve refused, either willingly or unwillingly. You’ve been so tired, your voice and energy all going to talking to clients and people in real life that you just couldn’t muster the strength to send him back any after a long day—Joost couldn’t call for long either, too occupied with the final touches on the album. 

He asked you one night, sleepy voice rasping about how he just wanted to hear you, and he sounded so hot—you texted back that you couldn’t sound sexy and all he said was that he didn’t care if you sounded sexy. He just wanted you. 

Still, you couldn’t let it happen.

Joost whined all the way up until his train home got to the station; all the way home in the car as you drove him and asked about his work; all the way up to now, pouting with his prickly chin on your bare chest and his arms wrapped around your waist. 

“If that isn’t enough, how far can I go to get my audio clip, then?” Joost asks. 

The both of you are competitive as can be with each other. 

So long ago, you bet him he couldn’t make you cum just from internal stimulation alone—he proved you wrong and then some. He bet you last year (and every year before that you’ve been together) that he could last all of November not cumming—you manage to prove him wrong anywhere from 2-5 days before his birthday on the 10th. Everything is a competition, everything is a game for you two, that’s what makes the relationship so fun. 

If you give Joost an inch, he’ll take a mile, and you know that better than anyone. 

“As far as you think it takes, Joosti.” 

Wordlessly, he gets up off from you and sits on the side of the bed facing the wall, in front of the mirror that’s there now—obtained at a swap meet somewhere in the city and hauled back by you both; standing against your wall, the top rounded in an arch, used mostly for outfit checks and Joost to try on a million different clothing pieces before he decides on things he wears all the time. 

“Sit between my legs, baby.” 

“Why should I do that for you?” 

“Because I want you to do it for me,” he says, looking back at you and patting his lap. “Here. Sit down or none of this will happen.” 

Usually, Joost is never so commanding—he’d rather ask you, sweetly and nicely to please do something for him. There isn’t a demanding bone in his body. And yet…

You take the seat between his legs and look at yourself as he hooks his fingers in the white and lacy waistband of your panties and pulls them down your thighs, down your calves. His lips ghost over the nape of your neck as he watches you in the mirror—Joost is always intense, always strong-willed, but it’s as if he’s come back a changed man.

“I want you to watch me do enough.” 

He hooks his hand under your right knee; you let him bring your leg up and drape it over his, spread wider than you’re used to. The same is done to the other leg; if you tried to close them, you’d be unable to. 

“I’ll get those sounds out of you if it kills me, lieverd.”

The cotton of his shorts, Tears as always; your shared necklaces resting on the chest hair that pokes out of the neckline of his wifebeater—they rub against your backside as you adjust your position on him, Joost’s warm and clothed body making your naked skin feel piping hot. 

He places his hands on your inner thighs, squeezing lightly. There is the feel; of his rough fingertips gliding against your silky skin, dancing across the jumpy nerves of the junction between your leg and the beginnings of the most sensitive parts of you.

“Do you know how hard it was for me not to hear your voice for so long, lieverd?” 

With his gentle hands, Joost spreads you open, exposing the most private part of you to both of your eyes, his chin hooked on your shoulder and looking down directly at it. You almost shrink into yourself, bringing you closer to his chest against your back, rising and falling steadily. In contrast, your breathing is so erratic, you feel as if your lungs might tire. 

The microphone will pick up your labored breathing, as much as you’re trying not to make a single sound; the mirror reflects your furrowed brow back at you as he dips his fingers inside, light and gentle, bringing the wetness back up to circle your clit slowly. 

“Mooi,” Joost murmurs, gazing intensely down at your form in his hands, putty in and between his fingers. “Look at you, hm?” 

You’ve done this so many times—watched as he’s fucked you, in the mirror or when you watch your bodies meeting, over and over again when he fucks into you, cock reaching your deepest parts. But today is something different, you can’t tell why, but it brings hot heat to your chest and cheeks, to see it so clearly. 

You can’t deny it—it’s you in that mirror, it’s you with your legs spread for him, it’s you. 

It’s Joost behind you, a mess of blonde hair, no glasses on today, his rough chin against your shoulder as he pets you slowly. 1982 exposing you, 1983 doing the rest of the work. 

“Als een mooie bloem, mijn lief,” he murmurs, two fingers spreading your lips, another rubbing your clit so gingerly you want to swear at him to go faster, harder, but you know he’ll just do the opposite of your wishes in this mood he’s in. 

“A flower?” you breathe out, and Joost smiles at you in the reflection. Still though, you know your words aren’t what he wants at the moment. 

“Pretty flower,” he says, and the smile is gone. 

The sound—the sound of his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit, the wetness from your pussy all he needs to do so, not spit or lube or anything else. Just the slickness of the back and forth of his hands on you. 

The rain beats down on your roof, louder now, the backdrop for those filthy sounds coming from you. “You’re still so quiet, I think the mic will capture the rain more than you,” he mumbles into your neck, kissing and nipping at it. ”The quieter you are, the longer we have to do this.” 

“Is that really an issue?” you say, labored through the consistent circles of your clit. You turn away, looking at the side of his face—“Ah, my god,” you whisper, moaning softly as he brings his hand up to your nipple, rolling it between his fingers and kneading your breast. 

“Not really, but I question how much you can take.” 

“I can take a lot, you know that.” 

“If you can take a lot—why are you looking away?” 

He moves your chin gently so you're looking at yourself in the mirror again, and he’s looking at you so intently, pupils so blown out you'd almost think his irises were black. You look down at your pussy to avoid how burning his gaze is; watch as he pets at your entrance, and slides his two middle fingers inside, the stretch warm and all you’ve needed the past several minutes. 

Still you hold it back, chomping down on your bottom lip not to let any sound close to a real moan out—you’ve made the rules for yourself: not loud enough to be usable, the least amount of sounds possible, and the biggest one, proving to be the hardest as he continues…don’t say “Joost.” 

When Joost starts curling his fingers inside of you, pace slow as ever and he grinds the heel of his hand against your clit—you have to stifle a whimper, both at the sound, and the appearance of it, his fingers disappeared inside of you. “You’re really going to do this, lieverd?”

“I never said I’d make getting your song easy.” 

“I like a challenge.” Joost gives you a kiss to your temple and you smile even as he ceases his fingers moving.  “That's why you’re my girlfriend.” 

“Hey,” you giggle, and then stop giggling when he moves his fingers faster and it makes a truly blushworthy squelching noise come from inside you. He does it again—why would he stop, seeing the way your face screws up in pleasure in the mirror at the pads of his fingers on your g-spot? 

For some reason, you expected him to be nice about it, let you have a little break—but two can play this game, you know that well. 

Your wetness is louder than even the rain, his rhythm making the sound almost incessant. “Do you think we could make that the beat?” he thinks out loud and you give him a bewildered expression.

“You…no. One day I’ll understand your thought processes.”

“What do you mean? You already do.” 

You never realized how loud it could be to do any of this. Can people hear you so clearly all the time? Your neighbours, your roommates, strangers. 

The countless times you’ve fucked in backstage dressing rooms, club bathrooms, the backyard—this is what it sounds like? There is no mistaking it. On the audio recording, it’ll be even clearer. Your voice, high pitched and breathy. Joost’s voice, deep and low and rumbling against your neck. 

“How many people do you think, schat? How many have heard us?…I think they would like it, how it sounds when I’m inside you.” You shake your head, heat rushing to your cheeks and the tension in your chest rising at the same time at his words. 

“You're so wet, my baby, and this is only the beginning—what about when you cum? How loud do you think you are then? What will my fans think when they hear this, hm?” 

“Jo—mmm, fuck,” you sigh, stopping yourself from saying his name. 

This shame and arousal growing inside of you—they’re like two sides of the same coin for you, and they accompany that tightening in your stomach, so close to cumming. The impish and petulant devil on your shoulder tells you not to do it so quickly, not to let Joost get what he wants after you agreed so eagerly to this entire thing.  

You screw your face up, thinking of… paperwork and saying bye to Joost at the airport and sad kittens in animal shelters—you have never actively avoided an orgasm in your life, but this is working quite well, and it seems to be obvious. 

“Schat, are you serious right now?” You open your eyes to see yourself and Joost behind you, his lips a straight line, no amusement to be found on his normally jovial face. “What are you doing?” 

“Being a challenge, I thought you knew,” you say, voice more wavering than strong—your eyebrows furrow, a sheen of sweat on your forehead as Joost continues crooking his fingers right into your g-spot. Almost immediately, you lose your focus on keeping your climax away, melting into the pleasure of his thick fingers fucking you open. 

“Say my name, baby, that’s all I want from you.” 

“No,” you say softly, turning your head and resting it back on his shoulder—he knows what you want, and he can’t resist you. “Please?”

Joost looks at you, blue eyes so warm you almost think he’ll give you what you’re asking—a kiss, his lips on yours, but he only gets so close that your noses brush, that all you can do is breathe into his mouth and hope he gets closer. 

You try to adjust yourself, but he holds you in place with his forearms, still thrusting his fingers inside of you, your face contorting in pleasure with every single move he makes closer and closer to your face, tipping you right over the edge, right where your climax is and then—

Nothing. 

As quickly as he moved them, Joost takes his fingers out of you, resting them wet on your thigh as you tense with what you thought was going to be an orgasm, a tidal wave of bliss flowing through you. In reality, the waves subside quicker than usual without him fucking you through it, and the sensation is ruined—almost completely.

Pathetically, you let out a whimper, can’t even let out the moan or the gasp of his name he wants so badly, that’s how miserable it feels. Joost’s never done that with you before—he’s always gotten you to the peak and rode down with you through it, kissing and licking and petting you through it and even past that point, mischievous and pushing your buttons when you swear at him to give you a break from all the bliss. 

“Joost,” you pout, eyebrows furrowed and mouth downturned. “Fuck you.” 

“Fuck me? You weren’t doing what I wanted, schat, why should you get a good one out of that?” Joost scoffs, and though he doesn’t seem too serious, breathing heavily against your back with you, you can’t help but feel like you did something so wrong. “You’re playing too much.”

It makes sense now—he asked you for one thing—one thing. 

Wasn’t much to ask, either. Microphone and equipment straight from his yet to be unpacked suitcase. Joost’s one reprieve from album mode until he’d take the train back for him and Tantu to do a final once over on every single track. This stage in the process takes weeks, sometimes even months—pushing too many buttons on the control panel, their soundboards and computers and plans all prodded and poked and pushed to the limit until the project is the amalgamation of their creative vision and perfection.

This time, you pushed too many buttons; through all of this, you’ve forgotten that Joost has been at home less than 24 hours, that the train ride from Berlin to Amsterdam was 6 hours long with no stops, no wi-fi, no you to soothe his worries, only album preparations far past his self-imposed deadlines and his own thoughts. 

You’re both workaholics—it’s why you get along so well, but it means that you know better than anyone that the last thing you’d want to be after so long is annoyed, and annoyed on purpose at that. 

When he’s as petulant as you’ve been so far, you know that you can get annoyed as well, asking him to just—stop. And he does, but you couldn’t do that for him. Joost has gotten frustrated with you before, sure, it happens enough that you’re not so affected by it anymore. 

But he’s never been so frustrated before that he’s ruined your orgasm. For some reason, the expression on Joost’s face, the heat of the moment, the dull pulse between your legs at both your immense need for him and the emptiness you feel at such a clipped climax has you emotional and overanalyzing the last half hour, every bratty quip of yours, every response from him. 

“I’m really sorry, I know you had a long few days, I shouldn’t have—” Water lines your eyes, and you try to blink it away when you ask in a weak voice, “Are you mad at me?” You feel terrible. Embarrassed. 

Joost meets your eyes in the mirror, eyes widening in surprise at your emotions strung so tight; you break, a tear running down your cheek which you quickly wipe away because you feel like you're making a big deal out of things and it’s just—aghhh!!!!

“No, my baby, of course not,” he smiles, face sympathetic, lips pouting at his baby being so emotional. Such a reaction would usually make you roll your eyes at him, but he’s so sweet, you have to nuzzle closer to him. “Come here,” he says, wrapping his arms around you and letting you curl up in his lap. “You’re so cute, mijn schat,” he coos, giving you a wet kiss on the cheek as he hugs you tight. 

Joost is so kind to you, it makes you feel a bit silly—not in a bad way, just one where you’d never think you’d be sitting on his lap, naked, being comforted about having your orgasm ruined by him. Almost five years of this kindness, you’re not sure you’ll ever be used to it. 

“I just got a little frustrated that’s all, none of it was serious, okay? I thought it would be a little fun for us to try something new like that, but I should’ve talked about it with you before—I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, wiping your eyes a little. “Just don’t look so serious next time, I really thought you were angry.” 

“I got too in the moment, I guess.” Joost moves your hair aside and kisses you on the lips, tender and sweet. “I’ll make up for it, I promise you.” 

With that, you nod, letting him kiss you, letting him suck your lower lip in his mouth and then lick into yours, touch so devastatingly slow it almost makes you whine again with anticipation. Joost places a gentle hand over your throat, giving it a small squeeze, and he laughs when you moan, quiet and stifled into his mouth at the pressure. “You know, you’re very pretty when you’re desperate,” he says softly when he pulls away, and your cheeks burn. 

“I could say the same about you, Joosti.” He noses at the side of your face, and you melt at the feeling of his skin on yours. “Am I not pretty all the time?” you tease, and he rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t start, schatje. Gorgeous, beautiful angel—is that what you want me to say? Lie down and hold your legs back.” 

Quickly, you get off of him and lie back down on the bed on your mountain of pillows, and he takes his place sitting between your legs, wet fingers running through your folds as he takes a look at you, all of you. “Aren’t you pretty?” 

He takes your left hand, kisses your palm then your fingers, then he places it firmly on the back of your left knee. He does the same for your right side, then lies in between your open legs, staring, examining. One finger down your slit, collecting your wetness on the tip—Joost leaves a bite on the meat of your ass, trailing kisses all the way until he kisses over your entrance, over your clit. 

You breathe heavily with anticipation, but still, you find it in you to tease. “Doing a lot of silent things for an audio recording, Joosti.” 

“Not silent—all of it is important, every second.” He shakes his head to 

“Defeats the whole purpose of the audio? Doesn't it?” You smile, flexing your ankles, feeling your muscles stretch as Joost teases your clit with his index finger, makes you open your legs wider. “The whole point is to record how good you make me feel, right?” 

“You want to be silent so badly for me, you want to play around so much—why are you calling me out for it? That I want us to have fun?” Joost rolls his eyes, but then smiles at you, trying to soothe the burn. “I like when you play,” he murmurs, then spits on your pussy, making you full body shiver when you do. “Play even more, let’s make this recording go hours.”

“And I’ll cum all I want?” 

“Careful what you wish for.” Joost rubs the spit over your bud, spreading you with two fingers and petting at it with another. “Als een prinses, schatje. Spoiled.” 

“Spoiled,” you mock, and he shakes his head at you, grinning. 

You probably shouldn’t rile Joost up so much—it’s too late for you to save yourself when he dives in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard. The spit and silky softness of his tongue make you keen, how good it feels to have him on you, his lips sucking so much, so good, so wet. 

The slide of Joost’s finger inside of you surprises you, how gently he pets against your spot internally as he laps at your pussy; you sigh, having to close your mouth on purpose to not make any sound. He sucks your clit between his lips, tightening, loosening, several seconds passing as he continues the pattern, making you groan with the feeling of him eating you out so well. It’s too much; you cry out when it hits what feels like 10 minutes with his tongue on you, but is really only 20 seconds at most. 

Too much, so good—bucking your hips up, you squirm, futile against his strong hands holding you down by the backs of your knees folded almost to your chest as he drinks you in, the wet sound of his mouth smacking against you so humiliatingly wonderful you could cry. How are you supposed to stay silent now? 

“I’ll never get enough of this, lieverd,” he says before diving back in, lips wrapped around your clit as you moan out at the suction, whining as you hold onto his arms for support, because pushing against him is no use—either way, who are you kidding? The last thing you want is for him to stop, especially after that first “orgasm”. Completely breathless, you stop trying, tired hips back on the damp bed sheets. 

“Good girl, baby,” Joost praises at your defeat, your finally being subdued. The nickname makes you shudder, arousal pooling deep in your stomach, and you squeeze at his arms for some sort of comfort in response. 

Joost nips at the thin and sensitive skin of your inner thigh and it makes you yelp, then he comes back and licks through you again, fucking his tongue inside of you. 

There’s no sense of organization or pattern anymore with what he’s trying to do—he’s lost it. He’s lost it. 

Your climax hits you like a freight train, your stomach and thigh muscles spasming, any control you had—lost. “Mmmf…fuck!” you exclaim, throwing your head back on your pillows as Joost keeps sucking your clit through your orgasm, white on the edges of your vision at how intense he’s doing it. “Ugh… shit!” you cry, panting out when he keeps going.

“It’s only a matter of time until you give me what I want, schatje,” he says in a quiet, sing-song voice, then attaches himself back to you. Your clit is practically numb with pleasure now, and yet, the waves are rolling through you, erratic and wonderfully uncomfortable. 

You laugh out, tears at the edges of your eyes at how intense your nerves feel, how fried they are—“Joost, enough!” and he lets up off you. He sits back up and pouts at you, lips and cheeks wet with your arousal. 

“‘Jooooooost!!!’” He laments, cursing at the sky in jest, and you laugh at how dramatic he is. “The line is ‘Joost!!’ Lieverd! Joost!!!” he says his own name in a weird, breathy moan that you’re half sure really will make it to a final draft of a song of his. 

Holding yourself up, legs open and so wet between them, you purse your lips for a kiss, which Joost gives you. “You said we can make the recording go hours—I’m sure I’ll say it one of these times.” 

“Okay, I’m glad I say the recording can go long—I will need a minute.” As Joost pulls back, you tilt your head to the side; he sounds… strange. Embarrassed, almost, and his cheeks are pink, and he can’t look you in the eye anymore, completely different from your ravenous and intimidating boyfriend from 45 minutes ago.  “I think I came in my pants.” 

“You’re kidding,” you scoff, throwing your head back and laughing.

Joost gets back up off the bed, stands. “Do I look like I'm kidding?” he says, pointing down to the wet spot on his crotch—he must’ve ground against the bed too much, how cute. 

“You haven’t done that since we started dating,” you laugh, watching as he strips off his shorts and his underwear looks just as bad. 

“Well, I did it again. Your fault. This sucks.” Joost shimmies down his boxers, picking them up and throwing them in the hamper; it hangs on the rim, he’s already soft, and he looks at you so dejectedly, then at the ground. You start to say ‘aww’ —he’s so cute and pathetic this way, but he wags a finger at you, saying,  “Do not say ‘aww’ at my dick, you’re annoying,” and it makes you laugh harder until he’s laughing too, climbing on the bed and kissing you sweetly, pulling back only to take off his shirt and then immediately come back to you. 

Laying atop you, he wraps his lips around your nipple, pulling at it gently with his teeth as you wince in the pain and the pleasure. Joost lays his tongue flat against it, laps at it, switches to the other one. 

“I just love you,” he sighs, latching onto you again immediately after, and it makes you smile—insatiable, truly. 

A few moments of this—letting Joost lave over your skin, the stiff peaks of your breasts, sucking hickeys into the meat of them—and he’s ready to sit back against the headboard together. 

Your legs are open and his hand is between them in an instant, running his fingers along your skin. It feels strangely electric…not his fingers on you, but his arm against yours, the side of his sweat-sheened body against your hip, what it feels like to see “Thanks for today” on his collarbone and your name and lipstick mark tattooed on the other side of his neck forever. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by Joost’s voice—“Why aren’t you saying my name, hm?” he says, gazing at your lips, his nose brushing against yours. You press a chaste kiss to his chin as he circles your clit, spreading your wetness around with his fingers. “It’s mean. It is sinister, what you’re doing.” 

“You’re gonna have to work for it, I’m serious.” 

“I will work overtime, I’ll be just like you,” he smirks, and shuts you up when he attaches his lips to yours, slips his middle fingers inside of you, grinds the heel of his hand on your clit as you gasp into his mouth, let him move down and suck at your jaw, your pulse point. 

The concentration it takes not to lose it makes your eyebrows knit together. He murmurs, “Do you hear that, my love? Do you hear how wet I make you?” says it into your open and mewling mouth, the sound of it all—the squelch of your wetness at the behest of his fingers fucking your pussy. You’re beholden to him, and he enjoys it so much. The person you are at work and in life; normally so collected, preferring the comfortable quiet of your life together, now so bold to let him do this. 

“Wat een mooi geluid, mijn meisje. You have me under your spell—what will happen when everyone hears this? Your siren song, hm? Is that what you want? Everyone to know how good I make you feel?” 

The surprise on everyone’s faces that you could sound like this, all because of Joost—goofy, grinning, laughing Joost. Serious as ever about coaxing these sounds out of you as he kisses you slowly, tongue so languid on yours, tempting you, seducing you into giving him what he wants. 

You’re almost delirious, the bubbling of laughter rising in your body as you grip onto his arm, so big, three of Joost’s thick fingers nestled inside of you and curling against your spot, stroking it with no abandon. You’re stretched thin around him, squirming and twitching with the rising peak coming to a head in your body. 

He doesn’t even thrust his middle fingers in and out of you; only keeps them there, deep and to the knuckle inside of your pussy as he curls his fingers inside of you again and again, petting and petting and petting at the most sensitive part inside of you. At the same time, he circles your clit with his thumb—you could almost pass out with how good it feels, how hot you are in this room, rain beating on your roof, his mouth on yours and receiving every single moan and breath you put out. 

The only thing absent is a crackling fire and a bottle of wine to fit the mood, but you can’t really complain. 

“Happy?” he asks, smiling. 

“Joost,” you choke out, eyebrows furrowing as you gaze at him, then close your eyes, touching your forehead to his, clutching his bicep, the challenge to yourself not to say his name all but forgotten. 

“Yeah, baby?” Joost grins—in the pursuit of his craft, your boyfriend has turned evil. 

“I feel like…” you start, face screwed in pleasure, words stolen from you by his curling fingers, confused at this feeling inside of you you’ve never felt before. “I just feel…” 

“What is it, baby?” Joost teases, fucking into you, devilish. “Can you tell me? Can you use your words, like I’ve been asking you to?” 

“I’m gonna…” 

Burning hot and building up and up and up inside of you, in your stomach, in your chest, your tired thighs tensing the knot in your stomach tightens and tightens and tightens until it snaps, hard and fast; you don’t even realize the curses and almost chanting of his name tumbling out of your mouth as you look down and see—

Clear liquid runs down from your pussy, down your ass as you groan out, a punched out moan tumbling from your lips. The wet squelch around his still moving fingers even louder now—oh my god? There’s wetness beneath you now, a small laugh of disbelief coming from Joost as you gush all over his fingers and hand and writhe with your powerful climax, the bed under you wet, the comforter wet, everything wet, and all because of Joost. 

You whine and he nods, smiling at you. “Schatje…I didn’t think it would work…”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, half laughing and half embarrassed at the mess you’ve made, panting and completely out of breath. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?! Mijn schat, that’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, I think.” He takes his fingers out of you with a sound that makes you cringe, and holds his hand in the air, fingertips dripping with your wetness, shiny and slick. You had no idea you could even do that, let alone feel whatever white hot pleasure was ripping through you while you did, and you laugh at his amazement with your hands over your mouth. 

“We’ll have to change the sheets again,” you pout once you realize—you just changed them yesterday before he got here, and the other set of sheets is dirty. Ughhhhh. 

“I’ll wash the other sheets—I would change them a million times over if it meant you doing that again.”

“We’ll run out of sheets before that happens, Joost.” He hates changing the sheets, but he’s so desperate for it, obviously. 

“I’ll make new ones,” Joost says proudly, then kisses you. “Please don’t worry about the bed. I’ll take care of it, and to be honest, I would like you to mess it up even more.” Kiss on your lips. Your worries have melted away with it. “You were so good to me, yet I still didn’t get my song. Tell me, why is that, mijn schat? You want me to torture you for longer?” he says softly, kissing you on the lips. 

“It’s not torture,” you breathe out and Joost laughs. “I said your name, what more do you want from me?” 

“It’s not torture? Is that right?” he asks, and you nod, coming up to kiss him again,  “I want to be inside you, lieverd, that’s what I want.” 

Only now do you notice that he’s hard again—the same hand he used to finger you wrapped around his cock, your wetness his lubrication alongside the precum drooling from his tip. “That’s what you’ll get, then,” you say, sweet and smiling and so ready for it even after Joost has had his way with you for what feels like hours now. 

It’s your wetness that’s darkened Joost’s arm hair and the hair on his stomach; your wetness facilitating his sharp sighs as he pleasures himself to the sight of you, the thought of you, the sound of you. 

Beaming, Joost turns away to the side. “If it isn’t obvious to you, the audience,” he says into the microphone in a silly voice. “This is the first time I’ve made her squirt, and she still wants me so bad!! What the fuck!! I am sooo so lucky!!! What amazing sight, wow. Shoutout lieverd, for real!!” Your laugh is sure to be captured in the background, your small “Shoutout Joosti!” too. Joost turns back to you—”My one in a trillion, baby,” a kiss to your lips, your body being laid on the damp sheets again and your legs opening in response. 

“mijn_schatje_loml_voor_altijd_TANTUPLSDONOTLISTEN.mp3” has been running for 1 hour, 33 minutes, 8 seconds, 3 milliseconds—feels like so much longer. Joost lies between your legs again on his stomach, his cheek on your thigh, his calves in the air swinging and happy and him batting his eyelashes at you “innocently.” “Dickhead,” you laugh, knowing he wants to put his tongue on you again, and he laughs too. 

“Your favourite one, though, right?” 

“Yes, my favourite one.” You roll your eyes at his giggles but smile nonetheless at him. “I want you inside me, Joosti, don’t make me wait, please.” 

Joost holds up a finger—“One criticism—”

“Already?!” you exclaim. “What is it?” 

Joost gets up off of you and goes to the dresser to the side of your bed. You tilt your head in confusion—there isn’t much in there he could need for the rest of this, but he seems to be determined. “I think it’s the cutest thing when you call me Joosti and I never want you to stop doing that,” he starts, rummaging through the drawer. “But I think for the sake of the song, or your part in it, it would be better if you just said ‘Joost.’ Can you do that?” 

“I can do that, Joost,” you tease, your perfectionist musician of a boyfriend coming out in full force. 

“Good, good, schat. Now can you say it while I’m using this on you?” 

Joost turns around holding…Ole Reliable, the name you both call a taupe vibrating wand that was your best friend before you two started dating, is your best friend when he’s gone for longer than a month or two and your fingers aren’t enough when you two are FaceTiming…to Joost’s absolute displeasure. When he’s home, it hides in your underwear drawer—but trust, he knows where it is. 

“Be serious, Joost,” you laugh in disbelief. There’s no way that Ole Reliable will be part of this with how much lighthearted vitriol Joost has treated it in the past, calling it his “mortal enemy,” his “biggest competition.” This isn’t real. 

“It takes you like, 3 hours to cum after I’ve made you cum so many times, this will help,” he shrugs, and he’s right. You’re so overstimulated at this point that he’d have to fuck you for longer to get you over the edge, but the vibrator is a bit overkill—it’s powerful, and you’ve made your own legs shake with it countless times, with or without Joost. 

“I think I’ll end up…squirting—ew, I hate that word—even more if you use it.”

“It’s not so bad of a word, mijn schat. And either way—bed is already dirty. Why not go all out so we don’t have to clean up again?” 

Joost makes a good point, and you know he’ll want to see more of your newfound ability later on—minimizing the cleanup later sounds good, so you lie back, open your legs, run your fingers through your wet folds as his eyes widen at your eagerness. “Let’s go all out,” you giggle and he flops on top of you, exclaiming, “Yayyyyy!!!” 

It’s slow, the way he hooks your legs over his thighs, long presses the button of the vibrator, presses it again once so it turns on completely, and then recoils in surprise when he presses the largest button again and again. “Whaaattt the fuck, I didn’t know there were so many patterns in it. That is crazy. You use this?! What is ‘thumping feature.’ There are so many buttons. What…” Joost looks at it in wonder, the vibrations sure to be going through his entire forearm—that thing is strong, and you know it. 

“There are only 2 buttons, Joost.”

“That is a lot to me.”

Cycling it back to the lowest, most tame setting, he places the head on your clit, gentle; you hiss at the waves coming through you, even at the lowest rate it could possibly go. “Do you like that, baby?” he asks, voice low, other hand coming down to slip a finger in your pussy. “You look like you love it.” 

Nodding, Joost takes your hand and wraps it around the handle of the wand, and you hold it against yourself as he jerks his cock between your legs, enveloping the warm head of it in your entrance. It slips in so nice—you’ve been ready for it for hours now, you'd be surprised if it didn’t just slide in. Your eyes roll back, the back of your head hitting the wire frame of your bed, the vibrations coursing through you and his big cock parting your slit. 

“Oh, fuckkk, schat,” Joost moans as he sinks into your soaking wet pussy. “So fucking wet, baby, you feel so good.” 

Breathless, you nod, as Joost glides right in; he’s thick, but you're so wet. Three orgasms and counting for you, it’s so easy now. Angling the vibrator, you move it so you can see it all—how messy it is when he pulls his hips back to adjust how he’s thrusting into you, his pubes and happy trail wet with your juices, the hair on his thighs wet as well. What a mess you’ve made. 

“Oh my god—“ he says, rolling his neck back in pleasure once he finally bottoms out inside of you, the wand pressed against his pelvis just as much as it’s pressed against yours.  Joost bites his lip, shaking his head. Not so much of a mortal enemy, after all, is it? “How do I compete with this thing…” 

“This thing could never be you, Joost,” you breathe, and it’s true. So tired, so happy, you’re a little emotional about it for some reason. 

How he holds you so warm and safe and tight, always, never a question on if he wants and loves you—he always does and always will. In bed together like this, sheltered from the rain in your home together, your cats scratching at the door and a whole life ahead of you; on the train giggling with each other about the middle-aged and elderly side-eyeing his barking and boisterous laughter; in club bathrooms and snow covered curbs and swimming pools in your backyard and the couch downstairs. 

The rest of the world should be envious about what you have, who you hold. Joost, this house, that audio recording, and you, forever. 

“Hehe!” Joost leans over to the microphone and gloats into it, “Me—1! Vibrator—zeroooo! Hahahahah!” 

You laugh—and this, forever. You could never trade this in. 

Pulling Joost in, you kiss him sweet and slow, little thrusts of him inside of you as he moans into your mouth incessantly, every breath of his a whimper, it must feel so good—buried balls deep in your pussy, vibrator against your clit and pressed against the few centimeters of shaft that can’t fit in you when he begins thrusting inside of you sloppily, the hollow clap of his hips against you filthy as you moan out his name against the humming backdrop of the toy you're using together. 

Every nerve in your body winds itself tight around the coil in your stomach as he fucks into you, a smooth and steady rhythm that makes you lose yourself, trying to wrap yourself around him, wanting to devour him whole, wanting to make it so it’s just you and him and no one else in the world, no one outside these walls, no one else. With Joost breathing into your mouth, his sweaty bangs tickling your forehead, the taste of his tongue on yours—there might as well be no one on this earth except you and him. 

“I can't do it, Joost, it’s too much,” you whine as he keeps driving into you—god, you want it so badly, but three and a half orgasms later and you’re entirely spent, letting him do all the work as you moan loudly, no control over yourself or your body. The vibrator is pressed flush against your clit and gets you to the precipice faster than you’d like right now. 

“You can do it, baby,” he coos, and you know there’s no way to get out of this. Either way, you wouldn’t want to, legs wrapped around him, the buzzing of the vibrator such music to your ears, the feeling of his cock driving into you and Joost, a warm and heavy and perfect weight atop you. As you claw at his shoulders, his back, he holds you open with his strong hands, your squirming no match for his strength with every deep seat of his cock inside of you. “I know you can, you can do it.” 

When he says it, you believe it; you have to bite and suck at his neck in order to focus on keeping it together long enough for him to cum, apologizing to Lola in your head at your treatment of her, how she’ll be blooming purple and red by the time the sun rises tomorrow. Joost ruts into you, pressing the vibrator hard to your clit and it’s so…it’s so much, the mattress squeaks with how spirited his hips are against you, loud slaps of skin against skin and your name, his name, intertwined on this wavelength, on this track for everyone to hear. 

“Joost…fuck, Joost!” you cry out again and again, tears coming to your eyes with how hard and fast your orgasm rips through you, repeating Joost’s name like a prayer, an oath, gushing around him and too fucked out to kiss back properly when he licks into your mouth, grounding you back to this bed even as you sob out in pleasure, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at how amazing he’s making you feel. “I love you,” you breathe, blissed and fucked out tears streaming down your cheeks at how good it feels, all open and airy. 

“Why are you all sappy, baby? ‘Cause I’m fucking you so well?” Joost teases, pressing wet kisses to your tear stained cheeks, your mouth bitten red with his nips, his kisses all throughout this. 

“Yes, I love you, Joost,” you sniffle, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him closer even if it means the vibrator gets pushed even harder against your aching clit. 

He laughs, continuing his feverish thrusting as he finally gives you the kiss you want. “I love you too, mijn hart.” 

You don’t notice him fumbling around on the side table as he kisses you, bringing the wired earphone from the nightstand back to your ear, your eyes widening in surprise. 

“Do you hear that, mijn schat?” The feedback, his voice, doubled and almost echoing as you hear it in real life and it plays out in your ears, delayed. You have to try and dampen the rest of your senses to focus on what you’re hearing. The slopping of his hips against your ass, the low pitched vibrations of the wand, his voice. 

Joost’s voice that distracts you until you’re snapped out of it by him pulling out, stroking his cock and panting heavily, cheeks and chest and neck pink with exertion, skin shining with sweat. “What are you doing?” you mumble. 

“You’ve already done so much, schat,” Joost breathes, and you shake your head, looking up at him through wet eyelashes. 

“Finish what we started, I want it all.” 

Obediently, Joost nods, inching himself back inside you again; it sounds so wet in your ears, the microphone capturing every gritty detail, every squelch of yours and his. 

“Schat, I wanna…fuck, I wanna cum inside you so bad,” he whines, erratic thrusting with every word, losing it again, losing the practiced, methodical musician that you know so well. Even with his whining, his voice is deep, needy, chanting your name like you moaned his. “Wanna…fuck, I wanna fuck it in you ‘til it takes, I want everyone to hear it, see it, know you’re mine…mine, mine, mine…”

“Yeah, baby?” you smile, his cheek laid against your tits as he grinds against you, then goes back for long, deep strokes inside of you. Joost groans so loud against your skin, spit and sweat on the softness of your breasts; so overwhelmed, he takes your nipple in his mouth and sucks, nipping at you through his own orgasm, stuttering his hips into your pussy.

Warm ribbons of Joost’s cum paint your insides and fill you up so well, your moans finally joining his as he comes down from his high, moaning and sobbing out your name, lieverd, schat, collapsing on your chest and heaving for his breath again as you catch yours once more, satisfied with your recording together. 

“That a good enough song for you, Joost?” you smile, eyes already closing with the bliss of such a good recording session together. 

“Dutch Grammy worthy, mijn meisje,” Joost breathes, and you laugh as he reaches to the side and shuts his laptop, ending your recording. “How about another recording session later?” 

—

A month later and you’re carrying a paper bag of takeout from a few blocks down, earphones blasting a new demo from Joost and Tantu, using the spare key under Tantu’s doormat to get into his apartment from the cold. You set down the bag on the counter of his tiny kitchen, place the key back under the doormat, get three bowls together to split the takeout between, get utensils and glasses of water and what have you before you enter the bedroom studio. 

The takeout fights you tooth and nail; cheap food spilling everywhere, oil and sauce and vegetables on the counter and the rims of the bowls that you have to wipe up with the one (1. ONE!) paper towel left on the roll in the kitchen. Is this what happens when Ruby isn’t in town and they’re in album mode? You figure it must.  

You manage to wrestle it all together precariously, using every square centimeter of the one paper towel you have in your arsenal before picking up all three bowls—two of them nestled in your left arm, one of them held in your right hand. 

The door to the bedroom is closed shut—your arms are full, and you spend a few moments fussing about how to get in without having to go back into the kitchen and set down the food, but you hear Tantu and Joost’s muffled voices through the door. 

“Oh my god, I shouldn’t have skipped ahead—“

“You should've never played it, Tantu!”

“Well, you shouldn’t have kept it on your desktop for anyone to see! With my name on it!” 

You tilt your head in confusion, and then knock on the door with your foot; in an instant, Tantu opens it for you, and you hear, loud and clear: “I wanna fuck it in you ‘til it takes, I w—” before Joost slams the laptop shut and says, “Baby, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I—”

2 fics in a few weeks!! lfg!!! i hope you enjoyed!! <3 thank you so much for reading! likes, comments, reblogs always so so appreciated <3 : ) they keep me writing!! askbox anon on hereeee - juno

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DP x DC prompt. ~“Unstable connection”~ Dead on main.

Part 13. Hungry Ghost Festival 2

or Unplanned Criminal Lord’s Vacation with uncle John.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

Part 8. Part 9. New: Part 9.1. Part 9.2. Part 9.3.

Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Meme break №1. Part 13.

~~~~

Jason looked at the phone screen and didn’t believe Danny has really decided to entrust his safety in the haunted lair to one drunk and unrequited Phantom.

He had enough. Jason jumped up and grabbed his helmet off the table.

‘Where do you think you’re going? Patrol’s coming soon.’ Tim took his eyes off the documents.

‘None of your business.’ Red Hood quickly found keys to a jet and ran for an exit. ‘Cass, while I’m gone, you’re in charge of the alley.’

~~~~

Demons, spirits, and ghosts swung around as if in a dance. And Danny, whom Jason easily spotted entering The Gambler’s Den, did not seem foreign at this festival of death. The red light gently illuminated his pale skin, which almost fused with color of his white kimono. The flowing fabric made his silhouette as blurry and elusive as most visitors.

One second without looking at the boy, and he was in the opposite corner, where the crowd were much smaller. VIP zone? Otherworldly creatures, deserving special treatment, were rarely friendly to humans. And Jason was tense about it for a moment. But after noticing waving with enthusiasm teenager, a man in white clothes rushed to respond to the gesture and a ghost with an eye patch sitting in the chair nodded to him, ringing with silver earrings.

Jason let his guard down a bit.

Another man in the black robe was not distracted by Danny. He threw the bones and glanced at them in disappointment. Then ghoul banged the table with fist. He rose, grabbed from a nearby bowl a mantou and bit. The next second his face was distorted by awareness and disgust.

He abruptly removed the triangle-shaped headband from Danny’s head and spat out a bite into it. Then ghoul fell to a floor. Well, nice carpets have softened it.

Jason shook his head, trying not to laugh at the strange situation.

At the same time, Danny boldly stepped over the fallen player and sat in a chair in front of the ghost in black and red clothes. The man began to demonstrate a technique of throwing bones, with continuous ringing after moving of his hands. Danny seemed passionate about this.

Constantine, who did not come with the Red Hood voluntarily, decides for the first time in the evening to speak out.

‘That’s weird.’ Constantine said with an intonation that spoke of his distrust of the situation.

‘What is it now?’ Jason took his eyes off the object of interest.

Fenton must be watched for his safety. Why did the warlock distract him? Jason completely distrusted Danny’s promise not to use his body parts as a bet.

‘His clothes.’ Constantine looked at the boy with discomfort. ‘Boy, are you sure your lover is alive?’

‘Don’t be rude. He looks great,’ said Jason ‘Maybe Danny wanted to dress up in a traditional costume.  And it's not polite to ask people if they are alive. He’s always pale in all the photos. ’

 Jason didn’t think costume selection was such a big deal.

‘No.’ Warlock shook his head ‘Kimono is Japanese national costume, not Chinese at all. And it’s on the left side which means your boyf..’ 

Unfamiliar to Jason spirit came up and patted Danny on the shoulder. The spirit and the boy bowed to each other.

‘I see.’ The puzzled expression on the warlock’s face is gone. ‘Your lover has interesting friends, Hood.’

 ‘Who is this guy? Explanation. Now.’ Jason barked irritably. Why did he always have to pull every word out of John?

‘Nurarihyon. Don’t be so nervous, he’s not dangerous to people. I just realized your boy here after a walk with Hyakki Yakko. Which explains the clothes.’ Сonstantine exhaled cigarette smoke and continued. ‘Your love doesn’t waste any time. In one evening, he met three ghost kings.’

‘Hyakki Yakko?’ Jason asked a lot calmer.

‘The night parade of one hundred demons when all of the yōkai, oni, ghosts parade through the streets.’ John shrugged his shoulders and shook the ashes off the cigarette into the nearest ashtray. It was also red and black. Warlock winced. ‘But your boyfriend feels like a fish in the water. Whoever his protector is, he is respected enough here. Let the guy have a drink and have some fun, he’ll be fine.’

‘God. Danny’s like a sheep in wolf’s clothing’ Jason sighed anxiously. ‘His parents are ghost hunters but he’s here as a plus one for Phantom, a ghost from Amity Park.’

‘More like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.’ Constantine muttered to himself. But when he saw a silver butterfly nearby, he decided that revealing other people’s secrets was not his problem. ‘I know who the Phantom is. Everyone has heard about Pariah Dark.’

Jason has not heard about him, but decided to keep quiet so as not to make a fool of himself. He will ask Danny about it.

Constantine took a brandy from the bartender. Then he took a big sip and looked at Jason. ‘You know, I always thought Little Red Riding Hood was incredibly stupid to let a wolf eat herself.’

‘What’s this about, Constantine?’ Hood rolled his eyes under the helmet.

And immediately he was glad that John did not see it. In the end, he helped him a lot not to scare Danny. Without the old man’s comments, he could have easily carried the boy away from the local ghosts on his shoulder like a caveman.

Jay didn’t want to spoil a first impression of a face-to-face meeting because of a kidnapping. Although, looking at how comfortable Fenton was among the nonhuman creatures, Jason doubted that Danny would have been screaming and panicking. But he wouldn’t be happy about being distracted from the fun. Hood shook his head in disappointment.

‘Nothing important.’ John brushed the silver butterfly off his shoulder. ‘You know, I’m in debt to the owner, so..If you don’t need my favors anymore, I’m leaving.’

‘Wait. Help me find Phantom.’ Сrime lord stopped him. ‘I need to make sure he doesn’t leave Danny here alone.’

John turned and looked at him as if he were terminally ill. ‘Phantom is in this room now. Only an idiot would have missed him.’ John spoke slowly and clearly, raising one eyebrow. ‘A conference of four kings. No joke. Stop poking around and messing up international relations, kid.’

Jason looked around the room again. ‘I don’t see him.’

‘Because you’re an idiot, kid’ John patted Jay on the shoulder and left. ‘Good luck explaining to Batman why you stole his jet.’

‘Heck.’

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

50 Shades of Red || Chapter 3

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

summary: Kate is excited and there's a photoshoot. And lots of gay pining and panicking. Mostly on Wanda's end.

content warnings: Vision being a weirdo

word count: 4.5k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Kate is elated. 

She’s almost too excited. Wanda finds it suspicious, and narrows her eyes as her roommate starts speaking quickly, her voice high and her words stumbling against each other in her haste to speak. 

“What was she doing in town? Wait, never mind I don’t really care. She totally came to see you!” Her excited voice blares through the speakers on Wanda’s phone. 

Wanda is in the stock room while Carol is in charge of the front of the store, attempting to count inventory while her mind replays every second of Ms. Romanoff’s visit an hour ago. She had shot off a quick text to Kate, asking if she’d like a personal photoshoot with the CEO, and her roommate had immediately called her, burning with questions. 

“I mean, no fucking way it was just a coincidence that she happened to stop by the only store in town that you work in. You don’t think that was on purpose?”

“She said she was visiting some department for research,” Wanda says, setting the pen down on her clipboard as Kate clucks her tongue on the other end of the line. She didn’t know why her heart sank slightly at the thought, cursing her excitement at the prospect of Ms. Romanoff purposely coming into town to see her. 

“Oh, that’s right. She’s giving the renewable energy research facility a 3 million dollar grant.” Kate’s voice cracks over the speaker slightly, and Wanda feels her eyes go wide. 

“How do you know that?”

“Dude, my job is literally chief editor for the University newspaper, keep up.”

“Oh,” Wanda shakes her head. That makes sense. She must be really out of it, distracted by Ms. Romanoff’s impromptu shopping trip. She changes the subject. “So do you want the photos of her then?”

Kate’s high-pitched screech sounds out, and Wanda jerks the phone away from her ear as the sound reverberates in her eardrum. She winces, making out the words Kate is yelling. 

“Of fucking course I want the photos. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Wands!! Ms. Romanoff never lets anyone take photos of her, and this would be a private photoshoot. We could have hundreds of personalized photos of her, do you know how rare that is?”

“Okay, okay,” Wanda laughs, hearing Kate’s harsh breathing sound out as she catches her breath. “We just have to figure out who is going to take them, and where.”

“Where do you think Ms. Romanoff would want to do the photoshoot? Like, will she judge us if it’s in some warehouse?” Kate asks, her voice starting to get more high-pitched. 

Wanda knows what that means. Her roommate is overthinking, and her hands are probably shaking as her mind runs a mile a minute. 

“We can ask her about a location, since she’s staying in the area.” Wanda’s voice is soft, and she hears Kate’s breathing calm slightly. It’s a start. 

“How would we ask her?”

“Well,” Wanda starts, hesitating slightly. She hears Kate moving around, probably busying herself with cleaning to release some anxiety over the situation. “I can just… text her and ask?”

“She gave you her number?” Kate’s voice is incredulous and bordering on hysterical. “The most elusive, most desired, hottest, eligible single woman in Seattle gave you her fucking number?”

“Um… yes.”

“Oh my god, Wanda. She’s totally into you, anybody can see it.”

“Kate, no,” Wanda protests, “She was just trying to be nice.”

As she says the words, Wanda knows that they’re false. Ms. Romanoff being nice? To some random girl who tripped through her multi-million dollar quartz doorway? Absolutely not. There had to be a reason why she was giving Wanda so much attention. Her heart stutters, filling with happiness at the thought. 

“We can ask Vision to take the photos, he’d do just about anything for you.” Kate’s voice grounds her to the present moment. 

Wanda feels her body shudder. She didn’t really have anything against the tall, nerdy blonde. He was nice, and in a few of her classes with her. But, he would always stand too close to her or would find any excuse he could to talk with her. His interest in her was noticeable and no matter how many times Wanda had hinted at her sexuality, he just didn’t seem to understand her disinterest in him. 

Honestly, she was one creepy, lingering look away from making a giant banner with the words, ‘I’m a lesbian!’ painted across it in pink glitter. 

Still, she had to admit that he was talented with a camera. 

“Fine, I’ll call him. I think you should call Ms. Romanoff. After all, it’s your article.”

“No way, you’re the one she wants.”

Wanda blinked at that, letting the thought warm her for a moment. Then, she shook her head. “You’re being ridiculous, I barely know her.”

“Out of the two of us, you’re the one who’s met her. And you’re the one she’s purposely sought out, so you’re calling her. Don’t argue with me on this.” Kate’s voice is firm, the click of her hanging up the phone surprising Wanda.

Slipping her phone into her pocket, Wanda pulled out the business card Ms. Romanoff had given her. Her eyes traced over the curves of the woman’s name, memorizing the phone number on the back as she felt herself start to smile. God, she felt almost giddy. It felt like she was back in high school, with a crush on a cheerleader who’d smiled at her in the hallways. 

“So, how do you know her?” Carol’s voice sounded out, her tone suggesting that she was attempting to be nonchalant. It wasn’t working very well. 

Wanda jumped, her heart rate spiking as she guiltily slipped the business card back into her pocket. Turning, she saw Carol setting down a box before the woman turned to her with curious eyes. She didn’t have to ask who Carol was referring to. 

“I had to interview her for Kate’s newspaper,” Wanda says, and her casual tone sounds just as forced as Carol’s. “She was sick so I went for her.”

“Impressive,” Carol muses, lingering in the doorway. “I can’t believe Natasha Romanoff was in my store. Valkyrie is going to be insanely jealous.”

She smiles widely at the thought, before seeming to remember where she was. “Listen, a few customers came in, so I could really use your help out there.”

“Right,” Wanda says, picking up her inventory clipboard. “I’ll be out soon, give me two minutes.”

She can practically feel the burning weight of Ms. Romanoff’s card in her pocket, and takes a deep breath. Maybe she can recite some poetry in her head to get rid of the ever-present replays of their meeting from earlier that day. Looking at the clock, Wanda despairs slightly. 

Only three more hours of her shift, then she can go home and study without thinking about the redhead at all. Not even a little bit.

—

“Wanda, you know my style,” Vision’s voice crackles slightly over the speaker, a whining sort of quality to his tone. Kate rolls her eyes from where she’s listening in on the conversation. “I only shoot places, not people.”

“Oh my god dude,” Kate says, ripping the phone from Wanda’s hands. She gladly lets her roommate take control of the situation, her stomach churning with every word that Visions speaks. “If you don’t do this for us, the newspaper won’t cover the opening of your show. Do you understand now?” 

There's a beat, a moment of silence that stretches too long to be comfortable. Vision speaks, “Fine. Send me the details once you have them and I’ll be there.”

“Awesome, we’ll see you tomorrow,” Kate says, and hangs up the phone before Vision can say anything else. “Your turn, call Ms. Romanoff.”

Wanda blinks, still processing the conversation with Vision. 

“What, now?”

“Yes, now. If I don’t sit here with you, you’ll never call. I know what you’re like with making phone calls. I’ll even hold your hand if you want,” Kate says, reaching across the couch with exaggerated grabby hands as Wanda chuckles and slaps her fingers lightly. 

Taking out the card, Wanda traces the familiar shape of Ms. Romanoff’s name before dialing the number from memory. It wasn’t that hard to remember, especially since she’d been repeating it subconsciously in her head for the past few hours. Her stomach twists, doing a funny sort of fluttery motion as the dial tone rings. 

She answers on the second ring, her voice clipped and calm. It’s slightly raspy, and Wanda feels her chest grow warm. 

“Romanoff.”

“Oh, um… Ms. Romanoff? This is Wanda. Uh, Maximoff. Wanda Maximoff. You gave me your card earlier?”

“That I did,” she says, and Wanda can hear the smile in her voice. “It’s good to hear from you, Ms. Maximoff.”

Her tone has changed, warmth flowing through the phone. She sounds pleased and almost surprised. Wanda is acutely aware of the way her face is slowly flushing with each low, raspy word Ms. Romanoff speaks. Kate watches, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Wanda’s pink cheeks. 

Standing, Wanda waves her hands in Kate’s direction in an unspoken order to ‘fuck off’, before making her way towards the kitchen for some fresh air. They’d propped the window open earlier, and Wanda eagerly breathes in the smell of freshly fallen leaves as she scrambles for something to say.

“We found a photographer,” she blurts out, before smacking a hand against her forehead. “For the photoshoot tomorrow. That is, if you still want to do a photoshoot. I didn’t mean to assume. Does that work for you, ma’am?”

Wanda can feel herself cringe slightly as the words spew from her traitorous mouth. 

“Ma’am? That’s new… I’m staying at the Hilton in town, does 9:30 work?” Ms. Romanoff asks, and Wanda can hear the amusement in each syllable. The woman’s slow smile practically seeps through the phone, and Wanda pushes down the giddy feeling erupting within her. 

“Yes, of course,” she feigns nonchalance, her voice too high-pitched to be convincing. “We’ll see you then.”

“I look forward to it, Ms. Maximoff,” she says, and Wanda can visualize the way her dark green eyes are glinting. She envisions the corners of her mouth turning up into that secret smile she had given Wanda earlier, and shakes her head quickly, returning to the present moment. 

“So do I,” Wanda manages to say, before she quickly hangs up the phone, practically slamming it down on the counter and staring at the screen like she’s expecting the circuits to light on fire. 

“Wow,” Kate’s voice sounds out, her tone a slow drawl. “You’re totally blushing, dude. Admit it, you like her.”

Whirling around, Wanda opens her mouth to respond. She stutters, the words of denial fading quickly as she registers the way her heart is beating quickly and the excitement and butterflies building within her at the prospect of seeing Ms. Romanoff the next morning.

Well, fuck. 

“Oh, come on. She has a million other things to worry about. She’s not focused on some college student who interviewed her. And it’s not a crush… I just find her intimidating.” Wanda can’t tell if she’s trying to convince Kate or herself, and based on the way her roommate raises her eyebrows, she’s not easily swayed. 

“Sure,” Katre says, her gaze pointedly glancing towards Wanda’s reddening cheeks. “I’ll arrange the photoshoot and give my manager a call.”

“I’ll make us supper, how does spaghetti sound?” Wanda asks, jumping at the opportunity for a subject change. Kate agrees, her knowing gaze telling Wanda that she’s aware of her tactic, but thankfully her roommate drops the subject.

That night, Wanda dreams of cinnamon and dark red hair, the weight of warm fingers against her skin, and a raspy voice echoing around her. She wakes up twice, burying her head in the pillow as she scolds her overactive brain for thinking too much. 

She just has to get through this photoshoot, then she can bury the thoughts of Natasha Romanoff somewhere deep inside her brain. 

—

The Hilton stands out among the other buildings, the white-washed stone a beacon of wealth. Wanda tries her best to not raise her eyebrows too far, but Kate doesn’t seem to care as she cranes her neck to look up at the building. The boys in the back, Vision and Paul, seem interested as well, and Vision winces as Paul leans over him to press his face against the window. 

“Damn, so she’s like really fucking rich, huh?” Paul asks, and Wanda internally scoffs. 

She’d looked up Ms. Romanoff’s net worth the night before, her eyes wide and her ice cream forgotten and melting in her bowl as she stared at the numbers on her screen. She’d found herself in a rabbit hole of research, if that’s what you could call it. She mostly just looked up any information she could find about the woman, her public records limited and her photos mainly sourced from various exclusive interviews. 

“Yeah,” Wanda muttered, “I guess so.”

Kate had managed to book a room in the Hilton, typically used for receptions. She’d struggled for a while, her call being transferred to various departments until she’d finally uttered the name Romanoff. After that, it was easy to book a room, free of charge. 

When they arrive, a nervous, young-looking man guides them towards the room. Vision lags behind, carrying his camera and equipment. Wanda pays him no mind, aside from the occasional forced smile in his direction. He’d been trying to talk to her in the car and not-so-subtly imply that they should go out on a date, but luckily Kate and Paul had redirected the conversation to much safer topics. 

The nervous man opens the doors to their rented room, Kate’s casual confidence shining as she directs Vision and Paul toward the back wall. They have about twenty minutes left to set up, and Wanda eagerly accepts Kate’s order to ask the hotel management for refreshments. 

Setting up the finger sandwiches and water cups is easy, and Wanda finds herself relaxing at the monotonous act as she watches the minute hand on the clock creep closer to 9:30. She stiffens when the scent of cheap aftershave reaches her nose, Vision’s lanky frame filling her vision as he leans against the refreshment table. 

“So, you went and interviewed this woman,” he says, leaning in. “Is it true that she’s really a lesbian?”

Furrowing her brows, Wanda opens her mouth to respond. To say.. something clever. Vision beats her to it, his eyes glancing down at her chest too many times to be a mistake. “I bet she hooks up with some really hot women, I wish I could photograph that instead.”

“Oh, maybe we shouldn’t talk about her private life-”

“Also, I was wondering…” Vision cuts her off before he straightens, his eyes glancing over Wanda’s shoulder. 

Wanda senses Ms. Romanoff’s presence before she sees or hears the woman. She watches Kate’s eyes go wide, her eyes flicking over to her as excitement fills her features. Turning slowly, Wanda nearly chokes on her own saliva as she takes in the woman before her. 

Ms. Romanoff is dressed in the most expensive-looking clothing Wanda has ever seen in person. Her cream-colored dress pants hug her in all the right places, and Wanda has to wrench her gaze upwards before she’s caught staring for too long. The white, silk shirt isn’t much better for her steadily-increasing inappropriate thoughts. Wanda blushes when Ms, Romanoff turns, the light catching her shirt just right to show the abdominal muscles flexing through the thin fabric. 

Forcing her eyes further up, Wanda feels a shiver run through her at the look in Ms. Romanoff’s eyes. At first glance, her dark-green gaze looks to be impassive, cold even. But Wanda notices the way her eyes are slightly crinkled in the corners, a private smile meant only for her. The woman’s eyes darken slightly and flicker down towards Wanda’s outfit, lingering just a half-second too long at her chest. She doesn’t mind, Ms. Romanoff’s gaze is comforting rather than off-putting.

“Ms. Romanoff,” Kate says, and Wanda immediately feels the loss of her heady gaze on her. “So lovely to finally meet you, I’m Kate Bishop.”

She holds her hand out, and Ms. Romanoff shakes it. It seems firm, and Wanda finds herself wishing that she could feel the woman's soft skin against her own. She wonders if her handshake is firm, and looks down at the floor as a hot, jealous feeling arises within her as Kate starts directing the woman towards the backdrop Vision and Paul had set up. 

Vision starts to say something, his fingers uselessly gesturing toward a spot against the backdrop. Ms. Romanoff ignores his stammering request, focusing on Kate as she directs the woman into position. Dark green eyes flicker towards Wanda, a sort of curiosity in them. 

“Wanda,” she says, a single finger beckoning her closer. “What do you think?”

“Oh, um. About the poses?” Wanda asks, the woman’s hot gaze trapping her in place. She feels her feet start moving towards the backdrop, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she feels her heart begin to race. 

“Yes,” Ms. Romanoff replies, tilting her head thoughtfully. “You're the only one here who's spoken to me before. So, you know me best. What pose do you think would capture me?” 

Wanda blinks, her mind blanking. She remembers the way Ms. Romanoff had leaned forward during her interview, her forearms exposed from her rolled-up sleeves as she regarded Wanda with intent eyes. 

“Roll up your sleeves,” Wanda says without thinking, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks at Ms. Romanoff’s amused, raised eyebrow. Kate glances back at her, a slightly proud smirk playing out on her lips before she turns back towards the CEO. 

Maintaining eye contact, Ms. Romanoff slowly unbuttons her sleeves, rolling them up with precision that speaks to years of practice. Her gaze is heavy, and Wanda feels the air around her grow hot as her heart rate picks up to a dangerous speed.

“Anything else?” 

Goddammit. Ms. Romanoff’s voice is low, her slight rasp sending Wanda’s mind spiraling into an unknown, fuzzy headspace. She suddenly has the urge to step closer to the woman, needing to be in her space.

Oh, those hands. Those fucking hands. Wanda watches the woman finish rolling up her sleeves, those hands resting casually over her knees with her fingers curled slightly. There are gold bracelets and fingers decorating the woman’s wrists and fingers, and Wanda has a sudden vision of Ms. Romanoff slowly taking all of her jewelry off. She’s well aware of the other three people in the room, one of them her roommate and the other a boy who is borderline obsessed with her. She doesn’t really care. Not when Ms. Romanoff’s attention is fully on her. 

“Lean forward,” Wanda says, biting her bottom lip. Green eyes track the movement, darkening slightly. “Lean on your elbows and look at the camera through your eyebrows. Then slowly tilt your head up until you’re looking dead set at the camera. Give us the barest hint of a smile.”

She turns to Vision, her eyes lighting up in excitement as he starts fiddling with the setting on his camera. “Make sure you get plenty of pictures as she’s slowly tilting her head up. This way, we get plenty of different expressions and angles.”

Vision nods, smiling at her. Wanda shudders, his blinding teeth throwing her off. 

Looking back at Ms. Romanoff, Wanda takes in the woman’s furrowed brows as those captivating green eyes glance between her and Vision. She suddenly has the urge to distance herself further from Vision, and steps closer to Kate. 

“Perfect,” Kate says, clapping her hands once. Wanda fights the urge to jerk at the abrupt sound. Paul startles, dropping one of the finger sandwiches. 

Vision takes several photographs, the click of the shutter sounding out as Wanda watches the woman intently. Ms. Romanoff seems to slip into a role, her expression professional and practiced as she assumes many different poses, her forearms exposed artfully in each one. 

The photoshoot is over before Wanda has fully processed seeing Ms. Romanoff, her mind replaying the closeness of the woman when she visited her store. The sight of those eyes is burned into her brain, the dark green color ingraining itself into Wanda’s memory. The faint scent of cinnamon wafts near her, and she feels lightheaded with need. 

Honestly, what the fuck is wrong with her. 

“Ms. Maximoff.” The words are commanding, and Wanda focuses. Ms. Romanoff is standing, her eyes focused on Wanda. “Will you walk with me?”

“Of course,” Wanda murmurs, ignoring the look and subtle thumbs up that Kate sends her. 

Walking quickly, Ms, Romanoff pulls the door open smoothly and holds it open for her. Her eyes are intent on Wanda, her hand just barely brushing her waist as she slides past her through the open door. 

The silence isn’t overwhelming, instead, it’s rather comfortable. Wanda is well aware of the woman beside her and fights the urge to look over at the way Ms. Romanoff’s hair curls gently over her shoulders.

“Would you join me for coffee?”

“What, now?” The words are out of Wanda’s mouth before she can think, and she blushes at Ms. Romanoff’s amused glance. 

“Yes, Ms. Maximoff. Now. I’ve been recommended a coffee shop just down the road.”

Wanda blinks. Is this… a date? Is Ms. Romanoff really asking her out? On a date? 

“Yes,” Ms. Romanoff says, drawing out the syllables. “This would be a date.”

Fuck. Wanda hadn’t realized that she’d said that part out loud. She almost says yes. God, she wants to, but she’d forgotten one crucial detail. 

“I have to drive everyone back.”

“Hmm,” Ms, Romanoff doesn’t look pleased. She turns to the side and waves a hand sharply at a man standing nearby. He’s dressed in a sharp suit and snaps to attention. “Taylor, can you drive the photographer, the assistant, and Ms. Bishop home?”

“Of course Ma’am.”

Wanda feels her eyebrows steadily rising in disbelief as the man steps into the room they’d just left. Of course, Ms. Romanoff had a personal driver. She probably had a chef and a housemaid and a… Wanda stopped that train of thought before she could think about it too hard. 

“So,” Ms. Romanoff murmurs, turning a corner and stopping at a window. There’s a nice view of their small college town, and Wanda turns to look at it. Anything is better than meeting those piercing, heavy, green eyes. “Are you available for coffee?”

“Why do I have the feeling that you won’t let me say no?”

“Oh darling, you can always say no. But that’s your decision to make.”

Wanda glances down, picking at her fingernail to avoid the heavy gaze locked on her. Something about Ms. Romanoff just makes her want to agree with everything the woman says, and the arm muscles flexing through her silky fabric isn’t helping Wanda stay focused. She takes a breath and looks back up, “So this is a date?”

“Do you want it to be a date?” Ms. Romanoff’s head is tilted slightly, her expression giving nothing away. Wanda feels her heart skip a beat. Her tongue feels too heavy in her mouth, and she feels herself choking on air as she begins to stammer out nonsense words. 

“I- well. I’m- I don’t know, I-”

“I would like for this to be a date,” Ms. Romanoff cuts her off smoothly, the corners of her lips quirking upwards. 

“Well,” Wanda mutters, feeling her face flushing even further as Ms. Romanoff’s smile widens. “I’d like that too.”

“Perfect,” she says, and Wanda wonders if she’s standing closer than before. She can practically feel the older woman’s body heat against her own, and that faint scent of familiar cinnamon wafts beneath her nose. She breathes deeply. 

“I’ll have Nick bring the car around. You should tell your friends that you’re unavailable for the rest of the morning.” Ms. Romanoff’s words are low and murmured against Wanda’s ear. She hopes that the woman doesn’t catch the full-body shiver that cascades down her spine, or the goosebumps rising quickly on her neck. 

Wanda nods at her, eyes flickering between Ms. Romanoff’s dark green irises briefly before she turns her gaze past her towards Kate. The older woman’s hand twitches, her fingers brushing lightly against Wanda’s waist as she steps around her. A full shudder threatens to run through Wanda’s already overactive nervous system, and she suppresses it with sheer will. Her roommate is in the middle of giving Vision and Paul instructions but turns towards Wanda with a raised eyebrow when she begins walking over. 

How the fuck is she supposed to explain a last-minute date with the country’s hottest, richest, and most eligible bachelorette?

Next Chapter

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta @captivepotato @justarandomreaderxoxo @godhatesgoodgirls @snowdrop1026 @maximoffmorale @noturlondonboy @wandaspuppy @xenaizogie @imjustvibingsworld @tobiaslut 

[theyoungwaldschrat]

This is the craziest photo I've ever taken and probably the craziest I'll ever take. It is the sun rising behind the alps and over the mountaintops a complex Fata Morgana mirage emerges. In all my years of photographing sunrises I have only seen Fata Morganas three times. The effect is produced by layers of air with different densities refracting the light differently and projecting mirror images of the mountains into the sky which fold back over on themselves multiple times. Because the mirror images are seen from a slightly lower (or effectively higher) point, you can sometimes see things in mirages that are normally hidden behind the horizon. And in this very lucky shot the hidden thing made visible is the elusive Green Flash!!! Another rare phenomenon at sunrise or sunset in which the last light of the sun may appear to flicker green. Both the Green Flash and the mirage are rare on their own, but this combination is almost certainly a once in a lifetime event.

Following this lucky shot I took a video of the rest of the sunrise where you can really see the distortion of the sun by the mirage

[addicted2wasps]

This is the start of my next wasp drawing, which will be very challenging. I'm very fascinated by the females of Plumariidae (Chrysidoidea), in fact, they seem to be so obscure and rare that there are no photos of any specimens online (other than one black and white scientific illustration). This one that I'm drawing is a female Plumarius sp. I was privately sent 2 reference photos of a specimen and I also have an old black and white illustration from a Hymenoptera book to work with. I find it peculiar that this particular wasp is so under-documented, at least in terms of visual material, such as photos. There must be some specimens in collections around the world, but it seems no one has ever taken a photo of one, or at least posted it online anyway! I'm intrigued to know if my drawing is accurate enough. I hope I've done a decent job, and I'm very excited to colour this one! Modifications will probably be inevitable, but this creative process is really inspiring and fun! For now, I've only drawn an outline in black pen to practice, but once the finished product is satisfactory, I will begin colouring. This should be interesting! I love the understudied, elusive weirdos of the wasp world! I welcome any constructive criticisms!

[mutant-distraction]

One of the most precious mushroom species on this planet.

The elusive wrinkled peach mushroom (Rhodotus palmatus).

Wrinkled peach is the common name for an uncommon species, Rhodotus palmatus. Other common names include rosy vein cap or netted rhodotus. It's widely distributed, and grows all over the world- although actual fruitings are sparse. It is pretty rare to actually spot one.

With the decline of ash wood and elm trees throughout Europe and Britain, these majestic mushrooms are increasingly becoming rarer and more endangered.

If you're wondering, the red sap-like substance is called "guttation", which is basically the mushroom's way of purging excess water as it grows.

Photo credit: Jamie Hall

Source: Critters Of The World & Southern Outdoor Education

[ambyandony]

Recognisable as a human figure from behind!

[venerablemonk27]

I logged my 200th bird species for Wisconsin! I got a great tip from a close friend, who knows about these things, that a Hooded Warbler had appeared in a park near my house.

[ID: A male Hooded Warbler perches on a mossy branch in the forest. His body is just a couple inches long, with green feathers on back, wings, and tail, and dull yellow for the underparts. His "hood" is a black cowl that covers almost his entire head save for a bright yellow mask that extends in an oval from the middle of his face to surround the eye and ear on each side. He has a pointy dark gray bill shaped for picking insects off of trees, and his eye is a reflective jet black that stands out against the yellow mask. End ID]

The next morning, I packed up my camera along with my work bag and took a break from my commute to check out the park. I arrived to find several people wandering the trails, here to do the exact same thing as me. None of them had seen the Hoodie yet, but they had a wealth of information from other birders on the movements and general behavior of the bird from the past couple days. I spent at least 45 minutes wandering the trails, squishing through the damp and the mud in my work slacks and sneakers. I logged five firsts for 2024, but no sign of the elusive Hooded Warbler.

[ID: The Hooded Warbler perches on the same mossy branch, this time facing away from the camera and looking up into the treetops. His wings are neatly folded behind his back, making a pleasing pattern with the tips of the primary flight feathers. End ID]

So I left the park for work, but decided I should come back in the evening. I knew from the sighting reports in eBird that this guy is active all day. When I got back to the park, it was cloudy and drizzling. I met a pair of nice young women with binoculars and a camera lens as long as mine. I asked, "Are you here looking for the Hooded Warbler too?"

One of them said very casually, "Oh yeah, it's right over there across the creek. Just flittering around." So of course I had to get eyes on him and try to get a photo. It was only a couple minutes before he came out again and started working the far bank of the creek.

[ID: The same Hooded Warbler, this time perched deeper in the brush and looking toward the camera. This angle provides a better view of the black hood and bright yellow mask, looking delicately fringed around the edges. End ID]

I probably followed the Hoodie down the creek for like 10 minutes before he decided to cross over to our side to do some more foraging. I froze. He was almost completely hidden in the brush, but I could see bits of movement and kept him in the frame the whole time. I knew I couldn't make any sudden moves without scaring him away. For a brief moment, he came out to take a closer look at me, which is where all the photos in this post came from. I only managed to shoot three bursts while he was completely out in the open before he took off for the far side of the creek again.

[ID: The Hooded Warbler looks directly at the camera, only partially obscured by a twig. His posture suggests being ready to leap forward and continue the hunt for insects. End ID]

I was left feeling incredibly amped. The other photographer and I had to share back-of-the-camera shots and gush over how cute he was and how close he came to us. It seems it's always a special event when a rare or unusual species shows up in town. I love these brief moments of connection with birds and the people that care about them.

[bokutosbiceps]

real deal

kure raian x f!reader | smut + some fluff | 2.2k words

summary: raian comes home from a job to find that you’ve replaced him with a little piece of plastic. he decides to show you why the real deal is always better

warnings: mentions of murder, cursing (it’s rai omg), nsfw under the cut, use of sex toy, cunnilingus, throat fucking, choking/gagging, pussy eating, fingering, rough sex, possessive sex, mating press, dirty talk

a/n: i’m dedicating this to @thebigevilsamp + @missmadness123 because i used to thirst over raian with these two so i figured you guys would appreciate this 🥹 i’m sorry for leaving LOL. oh + also @kenganparadise + @kengan-ass because i enjoyed their writing at the peak of the fandom 💕

18+ MINORS DNI

Raian swung his keys around on his index finger as he strolled back to his car, whistling a tune he’d had stuck in his head throughout his entire job. Erioh had sent him to kill some asshole who had been embezzling money from one of Erioh’s oldest friend’s company, and Raian couldn’t have been less intrigued. 

The job was easy, since the target was just an old dude. A simple squeeze of his hand had snapped the old man’s fragile cervical spine, extinguishing the last bit of life the guy had left in him. Whatever, he was probably going to die within the next 10 years anyways. But however easy the job was, it was equally long. The target rarely ever worked given his old age, and it took forever to get intel on when the old bag would show up to work. Raian was never able to figure out where he lived, either. He didn’t understand how old people could be so elusive.

I’ve just gotta go report back to old man Erioh and then I’ll finally be able to get home. Raian grunted to himself as he weaved in and out of traffic on his way to Kure Village. I wonder how my bitch is doing… Raian’s expression softened as he thought of coming home to you after being away for so long on this job. He would probably never get used to being received with such excitement and love when returning home from a job. Deep down, he loved it. And deep down, he missed you more and more as the days apart from you passed. He appreciated the short but sweet texts you would send him, telling him that you were thinking of him, or that you missed him, sometimes even complete with a cute or sexy photo of you.

Maybe he should do something nice for you. Since he was in a good mood.

Raian sneered as he slammed his car door shut after pulling up to a random supermarket. Dumb bitch, making me get her flowers. Why do women even like flowers? They’re so useless, can’t even eat them or use them as a weapon. Fucking hell. He grumbled to himself as he picked up some flowers, already knowing exactly which kind he would get since he had taken note of what types of flowers you liked to adorn the kitchen table with in the house. He could be observant when he wanted. He threw some cash at the cashier and stalked back to his car, speeding to Kure Village so he could debrief Erioh and be on his merry way to your arms.

“It’s finished, old man.” Raian leaned against the door frame to Erioh’s office, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he watched his grandfather raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“I’m surprised it took you so long. I was starting to wonder if you’d finally pissed someone off enough to get yourself killed.” Erioh cackled at how quickly Raian’s smirk disappeared.

“Kill? Me?” Raian snorted. “You know better, you old bastard, no one can kill me.” Raian straightened once he remembered your flowers were resting in the front seat of his car, likely shriveling up in the sweltering heat of the afternoon. “I’m leaving. If you need anything else, don’t.” Raian turned on his heel and waved to Erioh as he exited his house.

“Raian.” Erioh called out to him and Raian huffed as he turned back around to face his grandfather, glaring at him expectantly. “I’m giving you the next two weeks off. Spend some time with your woman.” Erioh smiled slyly and sat down at his desk. “If I’m going to be appointing you as head of the clan anytime soon, I’ll be wanting to see that you are capable of upholding your bloodline.” Erioh gave Raian a pointed look. “Get busy.”

Raian scoffed as he continued to make his way out of Erioh’s house. Way ahead of you.

It took Raian less than 3 minutes to drive the short distance from Erioh’s house in the depths of Kure Village to his own home somewhere in the upper ring of the village.

He unlocked the front door and entered the silent house with flowers in hand, somewhat disappointed that you weren’t jumping into his arms to greet him like you usually did. It’s what he got for trying to surprise you with his return.

“Y/n?” Raian called out as he walked from the front room to the living room, stopping in the kitchen to set the flowers down on the table next to the vase filled with almost identical flowers. He heard a small buzzing noise coming from down the hall and followed the noise to the bedroom. What he found was a delicious sight.

You were lying on the California king, legs open wide, chest heaving, and lips parted in pleasure as you held something small and colorful and vibrating to your clit.

“Hmm, the fuck is going on here?” Raian’s deep drawl shook you out of your haze of pleasure, causing you to immediately close your legs and sit up in slight fear and embarrassment.

“Rai, I didn’t know you were coming home.” Your voice was breathless, your hair slightly tousled, and your cheeks held a shade of arousal that Raian found so delectable. He approached the bed in one long stride and snatched the vibrator out of your hand before you could even think to hide it. “I missed you.” You said bashfully, watching as Raian inspected the toy that fit in between his large fingers.

“You missed me so you tried to replace me with this thing?” Raian challenged, crushing the vibrator between his fingers and shifting his gaze to you.

“Nothing can replace you, Rai.” You sat up onto your knees to become level with Raian, who was still standing by the bedside, now brushing the remnant of your brand new vibrator onto the floor. You slid your hands underneath his shirt and up his chest. “Fusui just…suggested it to me. She knew I was missing you and you never told me when you’d be back…a girl has her needs, y’know.”

“So did that little fucking toy satisfy your needs?” Raian seized your hands with one of his hands and used his other hand to grip your face. You shook your head in blatant and hurried denial. “Good, I’m glad my bitch knows the difference between a piece of plastic and the real deal.”

Raian wasted no time in pushing you back on the bed and placing his knees on either side of your naked body, dragging his shirt off while you made quick work of his belt and pushed his jeans down to expose the bulge in his boxers.

“You see how hard I am already, bitch? This was your plan all along, hm? For me to come home and see my bitch all laid out on the bed for me, ready to be fucked?” Raian sank his teeth into your shoulder, rutting his hips so that his bulge was rubbing against your pussy. You gasped at the sudden contact and wrapped your legs around his hips obediently, giving him more access. “Good girl.” He growled, moving his hands down to squeeze and knead your ass.

“Rai, fuck—I missed you, so much.” You breathed, bucking your hips against his boxers, getting them soaked in your arousal.

Raian sat back on his heels, eyes raking over your naked body which was trembling with excitement at the evening ahead of you. He looked down at his boxers and frowned. “Dirty girl, huh? Getting my boxers all wet with your pussy juices.” He stood up briefly to take off his boxers, releasing his girthy cock and letting it slap against his lower abdomen. You drooled at the site of his pre-cum leaking out in beads from his tip.

Raian kneeled back on the bed and grabbed a fistful of your hair, coaxing your lips closer to his cock until it was fully shoved down your throat. He warmed his cock in your throat until he noticed tears forming at the corner of your eyes and decided to give a good, strong thrust into your mouth, causing you to gag.

“My bitch is gonna gag on my cock, huh? Did you miss the way it tastes? Are you gonna take all this cum for me?” He bullied you, fucking your throat despite your gagging and choking until he was shooting ropes of cum down into your stomach. He slid out of your mouth and let you catch your breath while pushing you back down on the bed and pressing kisses down your neck, to your breasts, to your navel, before placing a chaste kiss to your clit, making you whine and arch your back.

“Does my girl want me to fuck her cunt with my tongue?” Raian smirked at your whining as you twisted his hair in your fists, trying to push your hip into his face. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you t-to fuck me, Rai.” You breathed. “I missed your cock so much, baby.” Raian clicked his tongue before pushing one, then two, then three fingers inside of you, eliciting a high pitched whine from you that originated from deep in your chest.

“Not yet, bitch.” Raian pumped his fingers in and out of you as he licked a stripe up your clit. “I’ve gotta torture you first.” Raian continued fucking you with his fingers and licking and sucking on your clit until your thighs were trembling and he was sure you were about to cum. Just when you felt like you were about to fall over the edge, Raian abandoned your pussy, making you shiver slightly at the cold air that replaced his touch.

You lifted your heavy head to see Raian kneeling again, stroking his cock and spreading his pre-cum to make sure he could fuck you easily. You eyed his cock hungrily, remembering how just moments ago that thing had been shoved down your throat so far you could barely breathe.

Without any warning, Raian hoisted your legs onto his shoulders and leaned down in between your legs to lick greedily up your neck before capturing your lips in a rough kiss, almost feral, that left you dizzy. Raian’s lips put you into such a trance that the pressure of Raian pushing his cock inside of you made you squeal in surprise, throwing your head and arching your back, making Raian’s angle inside of you even deeper.

“Fuck, babe, how could I resist the feeling of your pussy squeezing my cock like this?” Raian picked up the pace, bottoming out with every thrust. “How much did you miss me?” Raian gripped your chin and forced you to look at him, but your eyes were rolling into the back of your head from the pleasure of Raian’s cock filling you up. “Look at me, bitch, tell me how much you missed me fucking you like this.”

You willed yourself to meet Raian’s feral gaze, which made your walls squeeze around Raian’s cock even tighter as he fucked you into the bed. “I missed you so much—baby, I-I dreamed about you coming home and—f-fucking me just like this.”

“Hm, good answer.” Raian's pace started to become erratic and his hips stuttered. “I think I’m gonna let you cum. Is that what you want?” You managed to moan out a yes as Raian’s thrusts became rougher and he squeezed your hips with his fingers, hard enough to leave bruises. He growled as he neared his release and the sound was the final straw to bring on your climax. Raian was not far behind you and he released into you as he bit your bottom lip before smoothing it over with his tongue.

Once he was sure he had emptied the last drop of his cum into your cunt, he slipped out of you and threw himself down onto the bed next to you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into his chest. He let you catch your breath before continuing his bullying.

“So me or the toy?” He asked through a smirk. You huffed.

“Rai, shut up. I was just desperate, you were gone for a long time.” You said the last part quietly.

Raian felt a twinge of guilt poke him in the chest. He frowned and ran his hands down your back, squeezing your ass. “Sorry.” He mumbled. Two weeks didn’t seem like that long when he was focused on a job, but he had never thought of how long it must’ve seemed to you when you had to deal with his family every day.

“It’s fine.” You stifled a yawn and curled yourself further into Raian’s chest. “Just as long as you come back to me every time.”

The corner of Raian’s mouth turned upward into what could have been regarded as a smile, had you seen it. He just grunted in agreement. Nothing could keep me away.

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien’s Blooming Amidst Turbulent Desires MQ translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a MQ that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

[Warning]: The content of this MQ is pretty explicit and may not be suitable for individuals under the age of 17 (CN server). It is recommended that those who do not meet this age requirement refrain from proceeding beyond this point.

This MQ accompany 🔞 High Temperature ASMR.

As Lucien speaks, he raises his hand under my gaze and meticulously unbuttons the topmost button.

In the faint and elusive light and shadow, his slender neck and collarbone gradually reveal themselves, following the movements of his fingertips and the downward opening of his collar.

Lucien, as if completely unaware, raises his hand and casually winds the work badge around his wrist, tightening it leisurely.

“As you can see, I can't move freely right now.”

‘‘So, would you say I'm cooperative enough like this?”

[Note: This time I haven’t had time to subtitle due to acads and research stuff. I’ll do subtitle later when I have time, for now I’ll just post the transcript to quench ppl curiousity lol. If you want to follow along the voice acting you can follow here]

[Exclusive Radio- Longing for Returning Home]

Conference Participant: Professor Lucien... Professor Lucien, please stay!

Lucien: Hm? Is there something you need from me?

Conference Participant: Just heard from other professors, did you book the earliest flight back home on the day the conference ends?

Lucien: Yes, that's correct. Is there anything else related to the conference that I need to be involved in afterward?

Conference Participant: No, it's just that I feel it's a pity for you to leave in such a hurry.

Conference Participant: Granada can be considered a famous tourist destination. It's a rare opportunity to come here, so why not appreciate the scenery?

Conference Participant: Why don't you join other professors and explore the local area for a few more days? I'd be happy to extend my hospitality to you as a host.

Lucien: Thank you for your kind intentions. It's just that due to our respective business travel arrangements, my girlfriend and I haven't seen each other for a long time.

Lucien: When we were talking just now, we discussed our itineraries. She will be returning to our home country a few days before me. By the time the conference is over, she should be waiting for me at home.

Lucien: Being by her side is more relaxing for me than traveling around.

Conference Participant: Girlfriend? Oh, is it the person who messaged you during dinner today?

Conference Participant: Haha, no wonder you looked at your phone in a good mood and even took photos of the churros on the table from different angles.

Conference Participant: So, you were taking those pictures for her, huh?

Lucien: (chuckles) You caught me… Um, she's curious about the snack.

Lucien: It's a pity that I can't bring a portion back for her to taste.

Conference Participant: Indeed, freshly fried items like that don't hold up well during long-distance transportation. However, there are other local souvenirs you can bring back from the area.

Conference Participant: I remember some shops are selling hand-painted tea sets and unique patterned textiles... They are very popular among girls.

Lucien: (in an interested tone) Is that so…

Lucien: Can you send me the address of the shops you just mentioned?

Lucien: If I have some free time during the conference in the next few days, I'd like to go and take a look.

Conference Participant: No problem, I will send it to you shortly.

Conference Participant: Ah, originally I was planning to be the spokesperson for a few other professors, and we were all going to travel together for a few days.

Conference Participant: Seeing you like this, I won't continue to persuade you anymore.

Lucien: Indeed, when the heart longs to return*, it's hard to stay for long.

(T/N: "归心似箭" is an idiom that literally translates to "the heart returns like an arrow." It is used to describe the strong longing and eagerness to return home or to a familiar place. It expresses his sentiment of wanting to go back to her, his 'home' where he truly belongs and feels comfortable 🥺)

Lucien: When we have the opportunity in the future, I will come back to Granada with her and explore the scenery and cuisine here.

[Part 1]

The taxi speeds along the cobblestone streets of Granada, passing through the dappled light and shadow beneath the palm leaves.

Moving forward, the outline of a hotel in the distance gradually becomes clear. The colored mosaic wall reflects a bright luster in the sunlight.

I compare it with the photo on my phone and feel pleasantly surprised. I give a thumbs-up to the driver beside me.

MC: You're amazing! That's the hotel!

The driver raises his eyebrows in satisfaction, smoothly turning the steering wheel. I switch back to the chat interface, suppressing my excitement as I look at the message just sent by Lucien.

Lucien's message: "If I remember correctly, you are finishing work and returning from Finland today, right?"

MC's reply: "Yes, I'm currently checking in for the flight with my colleagues. How about you? How much longer until you return home?"

Lucien's message: "Very soon. The conference has entered its final stage, and it will end within the next two or three days."

MC's reply: "Sigh, it's been almost a month since we last saw each other. Even two or three days feel so long…"

I switch to a music app and deliberately share a sad love song with a mournful melody.

I imagine him in front of the screen, raising his eyebrows with a slightly helpless expression, and I hold back a laugh as I step out of the taxi.

As I walk, my fingertips slide across the screen, searching for the room number he had told me during our previous conversation. Suddenly, a notification for a new message pops up.

Lucien's message: "Mm, I also really want to see you."

My heart suddenly becomes soft. As soon as the elevator door slides open, I eagerly walk towards the corridor and stop in front of the door of room 1609.

I suppress my quickening heartbeat and knock on the door, then speak in a rough and hoarse voice.

MC: Good afternoon sir, room service.

When he opens the door and sees me, Lucien should briefly be taken aback, then call out my name and hug me, right?

As if in response to this speculation, the next second, the familiar voice slowly but steadily emerges from the room.

Lucien: The door is open. Come in please.

MC: (suprised)….

While this makes it more convenient, how can this person have no sense of caution? I must remind him properly later.

With these thoughts in mind, I gently lift the suitcase and hold my breath as I push open the heavy room door.

The bright and spacious suite exudes tranquility, and the gauze curtains gently sway by the floor-to-ceiling window. I quickly scan the room but don't see the familiar figure I've been yearning for day and night.

I place the suitcase against the wall and am about to walk towards the inner area when suddenly, I hear a familiar voice from behind me.

Lucien: I've been waiting for you for a long time.

With his words, warm arms envelop me. The familiar scent embraces me from behind, instantly wrapping me in a hug.

I let out a surprised gasp and felt the softness of his hair brushing against my neck, causing a slight itching sensation.

In his usually calm voice, now there's an unmistakable sense of joy that can't be ignored.

Lucien: (playfully) So, this hotel even has such thoughtful room service, huh?

[Part 2]

Upon hearing his voice, my heart seemed to be filled with light and joyful happiness all of a sudden.

I smile and release the handle of the suitcase, swiftly turning around and throwing myself into this long-lost embrace.

The hand around my waist tightens imperceptibly. Lucien's nose gently nestles itself in my hair, and he lets a barely audible sigh.

The shadows of the trees sway in the tranquil room. Neither of us speaks as if we want to make up for the time apart over the past month through this wholehearted embrace.

After a moment, I finally raise my head and look into his slightly brightened eyes.

MC: I had planned to give you a surprise! How did you guess that it was me who came?

Lucien tilts his head slightly, indicating for me to look at the Bluetooth earphones in his ear.

Lucien: I was just about to play the song you sent me and carefully "appreciate" it, but unexpectedly, it automatically connected to another device.

Lucien: So, I guessed you must be nearby.

MC: Damn it, I can't believe I was caught at the last moment because of such a small detail.

(T/N: "功亏一篑" is an idiom that means to fail at the last moment due to a minor mistake or oversight. It describes a situation where one's efforts fall short of success, often due to a small oversight or mistake, after putting in a lot of effort up until that point.)

I playfully raise my hand in a mock expression of displeasure, and Lucien cooperatively lowers his head, his slender eyebrows slightly curved.

Lucien: But I feel that no matter how it happens, your presence itself is already enough of a surprise.

MC: (laughs) Professor Lucien, you're getting better and better at coaxing me aren’t you?

As I say this, I reach out and ruffle his hair. Lucien doesn't get up; instead, he leans closer and gazes at my cheek.

Lucien: Weren't you supposed to return to our home country with the team today? How come you came to Granada on your own?

MC: You know the answer already... What do you think?

I let out a soft hum and coquettishly poke Lucien's arm.

MC: I had to take a connecting flight from Finland because there were no direct flights. After landing, I took a long taxi ride to find this hotel.

MC: I must say, it's really difficult to meet Professor Lucien in person.

Lucien holds my hand and nods earnestly.

Lucien: Mm, it is indeed very challenging. (playfully faking a sigh) What should I do, how to reward this hardworking Miss Producer who traveled from afar?

I look around and point to the soft-looking sofa by the window.

MC: Then, I want to ask the Great Professor to accompany me to lie down for a while. My waist is sore after traveling for such a long time-!

Before I can even exclaim in surprise, Lucien swiftly picks me up in his arms. The next second, we both sink into the sofa bathed in the scent of sunlight.

I laugh and sit up, using one hand to support myself against his chest.

MC: (laughs happily) You're pulling a sneak attack!

Lucien: (laughs softly) What sneak attack, I've only learned a thing or two from Teacher MC.

As Lucien speaks, he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, and I take the opportunity to intertwine my fingers with his. I gaze at the person beneath me, lost in my own thoughts.

Even though we video call every few days, being this close and gazing at each other, I can still sense some subtle changes.

His cheeks seem a little thinner; I wonder if it's due to not liking the food or being too busy to eat properly.

His hair has grown longer, now covering his eyebrows when lying down like this. Under his eyes... there seems to be a faint shadow of dark circles.

I can't help but put down my smile, and my hand gently brushes against the area under his eyes.

MC: (displeased) You even have dark circles... Didn't you say the conference was entering its final stage? Why aren't you resting properly?

Lucien: It was only the introduction of new topics that had come to an end, and the information left over from the previous meeting needed to be summarised.

Lucien: We still need to make good use of the time before the wrap-up.

MC: So do you still have work scheduled for today?

Lucien: Um, there is still much experimental data to compare. After summarizing the results, I must submit the analysis report to the organizers before ten o'clock.

MC: Is that so? I had hoped to hug you a little longer... Sigh, I guess I'll have to watch work take you away again.

I glance at the remaining time, reluctantly about to get up, but Lucien shows no intention of letting me go.

The hand around my waist tightens a little more, making me bend my elbow and get even closer to him.

As soon as I get closer, his warm lips follow, gently and affectionately kissing from the sensitive curve of my ear to my cheek.

Unable to resist the tickling sensation, I laugh and tilt my head slightly, trying to evade. The next second, Lucien firmly holds my jaw with a little dissatisfied expression.

Lucien: (gasps and whispers hoarsely) MC, don't hide…

With a hoarse voice near my ear, his cool and slender fingers caress my neck, slowly trailing upwards with an irresistible hint.

Wet and deep kisses accompany his movements, falling on my body like drizzle.

I clench the corner of his clothes tightly, unconsciously tilting my head back, feeling the sunlight reflected off the glass flash before my eyes.

I close my eyes, and it seems like my mind is also becoming hazy in this intense heat.

It isn't until the curtain hanging above us brushes against my face that I finally come to my senses. I take a breath and push Lucien's shoulder as if waking him up.

MC: W-Wait a moment.

Lucien: (breathless, in a hoarse and somewhat dazed voice) …Huh?

Lucien's dark eyes are filled with turbulent depth, and his hair is slightly damp. The actions of his hands don't stop; as if he is about to lean down again the next second.

I try to push his shoulder harder, my breath slightly unsteady as I speak.

MC: Didn't you just say that there is still a lot of data to organize and summarize?

MC: ...Then, now... shouldn't we…?

Lucien: (still trying to steady his breath) Mm.

Lucien responds vaguely, his lips still lingering on the side of my neck.

Lucien: (whispers very lowly in a clingy tone) But right now... I can't bear to let you go.

The intimate bewitchment leaves me feeling dizzy. I try to hold on to what little rationality I have left and tilt my head up to peck his nose.

MC: If Professor Lucien is going to be this unreasonable, I seriously need to consider whether I should continue creating these "surprises" in the future.

Lucien tightens his lips, a hint of leniency and resignation flashing across his face. I button up my disheveled collar, smiling as I stand up from the sofa and nuzzle against his neck.

MC: (smiles) We still have a few more days to spend together, there's no need to rush…

MC: But I'll be here working with you~ After you're done with your busy work, we can go out and have a delicious meal!

I say as I walk to the luggage. After a moment, the sound of the sofa rubbing against the floor finally emerges.

Only then do I sit next to him, gently holding my notebook. I casually place a pillow behind my back and begin browsing through my work notes from the past few days.

Perhaps it's because I'm by his side, I feel like I'm back at home, and without realizing it, I become more relaxed and at ease.

After flipping another page, I lazily adjusted to a more comfortable position, and one of my feet habitually rested on his leg.

The room falls silent for a moment, with only occasional faint sounds of paper rustling. After a while, Lucien suddenly speaks my name in a low voice.

Lucien: MC.

I respond absentmindedly, my eyes still fixed on the screen. The voice by my ear pauses briefly, seemingly carrying a hint of helplessness.

Lucien: Do you want to go inside and wait for me?

MC: Hey, did I disturb you? But I haven't even made much noise.

I don't understand, so I lift my head from the screen and notice Lucien's eyes flickering unusually. Suddenly, I grasp what's happening.

A mischievous idea springs up. I lift my heels and move along the long legs hugged by his trousers.

MC: You haven't said the reason why you suddenly 'asked me to leave' yet.

Through the firm fabric, the legs beneath my tiptoes seem to tense for a moment. I persistently speak up, refusing to relent.

MC: Did I really 'disturb you? Professor Lucien, could it be that you can't even resist this level of 'temptation'?

MC: Oh, this won't do~ When doing research, you must stay focused. How can you let yourself get distracted by a little bee that tests your self-control?

With those words, my tiptoes press on his leg, watching as Lucien bites his lip, and I can't help but curl up the corners of my mouth.

Having witnessed his usual ease, the sight of him struggling to restrain himself now makes me tempted to tease him further... Unfortunately, it's not the right moment.

However, being able to see him so openly longing is enough to satisfy me.

I close my notes, intending to leave as soon as I can, and am about to do so when he suddenly grabs my ankle.

Lucien's voice seems a little hoarse, and his fingertips are caressing gently.

Lucien: (whispers hoarsely) My teacher's "lesson" is indeed something.

Lucien: (x2) In terms of concentration, I indeed still have much to learn.

Lucien: (x3!!) So, (chuckle) can MC teach me how to do it?

His voice seems to carry a certain bewitchment. My breath catches for a moment, but I quickly snap out of it.

He's setting another trap, waiting for me to step into it willingly.

I let out a light snort in my heart. I pretend to take the bait and place my hand on his face.

MC: Of course, I can. However, I believe in tailoring my teaching to the individual, so I need to have a basic understanding of the student's situation first.

MC: Tell me, how far can you restrain yourself when facing my advances? And what would your reactions be at different levels of the advances?

Lucien holds my hand on his cheek, and lightly rubs against it, as if teasingly.

Lucien: This is a bit challenging for me.

Lucien: (chuckle) After all, when faced with your 'invitation', I seem to have never tried to resist.

I let out a long "oh," my voice softening a bit.

MC: They say learning requires understanding things thoroughly. Since there are things I don't understand, I have to figure them out.

Lucien: So, how does Teacher MC want to conduct this research?

I lock eyes with Lucien for a moment, then suddenly withdraw my fingertips from his hand, leaning forward to lightly peck his lips.

Before he can react, I quickly get up from the sofa and take two steps back, smiling mischievously as I speak.

MC: How about we conduct a little experiment~ Let me see how self-controlled Professor Lucien can be when he gets serious.

MC: I will adjust the variables to obtain accurate results. After all, as your special assistant, I've also accumulated a lot of experience and knowledge.

MC: Then, the experiment of an intern professor officially begins now. I kindly request this gentleman to cooperate accordingly.

MC: As for this special report, I will definitely record it diligently~

[Part 2-Intertwined Memory]

=Flashback, Narrator POV=

In the afternoon sunlight, there's a hazy and drowsy warmth floating around.

The cicadas are buzzing loudly, but Lucien seems completely unaware as he browses through the continuous stream of data. Other than the movements of his fingertips while flipping through the materials, he remains almost motionless at the desk.

Until the sound of a text message, like a small pebble, broke the frozen silence.

MC: "Yes, I'm currently checking in for the flight with my colleagues. How about you? How much longer until you return home?"

Looking at the message from the girl, Lucien's expression softened subconsciously. Thinking about the schedule that still had two or three more days to go, he lets out a light sigh.

When he realizes his actions just now, he pauses for a moment.

...It's strange. Whether for himself or the girl, business trips have become routine. He shouldn't feel this kind of helplessness.

Being separated from her just feels like something he can't get used to, no matter what.

After pondering for a moment, he replies in a composed tone, detailing the upcoming work arrangements.

However, he can't help but continue scrolling through the photos the girl had sent during their previous chat, not putting down the phone just yet.

She pointed at the reindeer statue behind her, her eyes shining as she looked at the camera; the photo of her holding up her unappetizing work lunch, making a distressed expression and sticking out her tongue.

The last picture is of the entrance to the Arctic Museum, with a caption that read, "If you were here, I'm sure I could understand more clearly."

Lucien's lips unconsciously raised upwards, and his fingertips gently stroke the phone screen.

During the days they hadn't seen each other, it seemed that the girl's life had experienced many exciting moments.

Even though they chatted every day and occasionally shared interesting experiences through video calls, he still felt it wasn't enough.

Having grown accustomed to the girl's company, this time their parting feels exceptionally long. The fleeting moments shared through digital communication can't fill the missing hole left behind.

Lucien purses his lips and gently places the phone on the table.

Just wait a little longer... When they meet again in a few days, he is determined to embrace her and listen to her happily recount all the moments she didn't have a chance to share.

Ding.

The notification sound rings again. The girl sends a sentimental love song—a melodramatic tune with a cliché title "Golden Song of the Year."

Imagining her acting sorrowful, Lucien can't help but curve his lips and replies with a "Mm, I miss you too."

Afterward, he takes out the Bluetooth earphones from the case, intending to listen to her spontaneous sharing. As his gaze unintentionally sweeps across his phone screen, he suddenly freezes.

...there is no indication of a connection on the screen.

These earphones seem to have automatically paired with another device.

Lucien instinctively holds his breath, carefully listening to the sounds outside the room. Soon, he hears familiar footsteps in the corridor, precisely stopping at the door.

In the next moment, the heavy door is knocked on. Someone deliberately lowers their voice and speaks in a rough manner, "Good Afternoon, sir, room service."

It's her.

His heartbeat seems to quicken involuntarily. Lucien stands up from the desk and walks lightly towards the door.

As he walks, that missing hole seems to be suddenly filled by some intangible presence, gurgling and flowing gently.

The warm breeze in Granada lifts a soft corner of the curtain, and the vibrant colors of summer flood into the room.

Lucien: The door is open. Come in please.

Lucien heard himself speak.

=Flashback and Narrator POV END=

[Part 3]

I walk quickly to the inner room, hook the door handle with my hand, and slowly close the door, blocking the view behind me.

I hold my breath and listen carefully through the gap in the door. After a moment of silence, the sound of paper flipping resumes. It seems that Lucien has started working again.

I comfortably lie down on the lounge chair and continue to look at my notes. Occasionally, I raise my head to glance in the direction of the balcony outside.

The soft curtains gently sway with the breeze, concealing the figure in the living room from my view.

Is Lucien currently working diligently? If I don't do anything, how long will it take for him to knock on this door?

I retract my gaze and ponder with interest. In the warm afternoon breeze, I lazily flip to the next page of the data.

As the sunlight slowly moves to the west, the steaming heat gradually dissipates. When I raise my head again, I realize that the sky has darkened.

*sexy bgm playing*

I walk to the balcony and notice that the lights are on in the living room, casting a shadow of Lucien on the gauze curtain. I yawn and glance at my phone.

The afternoon has passed since the announcement of the experiment, yet there hasn't been a knock on the door. I haven't even received a message from Lucien.

MC: Huh? When you get serious, you actually have quite a strong willpower.

I squinted my eyes as I looked at the shadow cast on the gauze curtain. It seems that it's time to introduce some "bait" as the experiment's variable.

After contemplating for a moment, I unhurriedly send him a message.

MC's message: "Is the work still going smoothly~"

I spin a pen around my fingers, and soon enough, my phone receives a reply.

Lucien's reply: "Mm, I've already read most of it."

MC's message: "So, Professor Lucien is quite efficient when I'm not around, huh."

MC's message: "Speaking of which, would sending text messages disturb you?"

On the other end of the screen, Lucien seems to have pondered seriously for a moment before replying.

Lucien's reply: "If only seeing the text, it seems to be manageable."

Oh~ that means there might be a little ripple in his heart, but not so much. Come to think of it, we do indeed communicate more frequently through voice calls.

If I were to use 'voice' to entice him, what would his reaction be?

MC's message: "I'll be relieved then~ However, it's almost 9 o'clock now. How much longer will it be until you can rest with me?"

The name in the chat box is replaced by "Typing..." A moment later, a new message alert sounds again.

Lucien's reply: "It will take some more time to process the remaining data. You can go ahead and rest."

MC's message: "But I'm having trouble falling asleep Q.Q How about letting me listen to the sound of you working? It can serve as a soothing white noise to help me sleep."

After a moment, Lucien's voice dialed in, his calm voice is accompanied by the sound of pages flipping.

Lucien: (in a calm yet a bit wronged tone) I thought a certain Miss Professor who's immersed in the experiment wouldn't come to see me today.

MC: Haha, actually, I was planning to just sleep like that. But…

MC: Thinking that you're so close to me, I feel a little unwilling to give in to sleep.

Lucien's breathing seems to have slowed down a bit, but he still speaks calmly and unhurriedly.

Lucien: Alright, rest assured and take your time. We don't have to rush things, after all, we still have several days to spend together, don't we?

...This person has quite a good memory.

(lol he 'jabs' her back with the same sentence that she said earlier 😂)

I silently curl the corners of my lips and casually respond as if nothing happened.

MC: Indeed, that makes sense. Oh well, don't mind me anymore, just focus on your work~

Lucien responds with a sound but doesn't say anything further. On the other end of the phone, the sound of flipping pages resumes.

The rustling sound mixed with faint breathing noise echoes in my ears, like the evening breeze brushing through the drooping branches. I lift my fingertips, tracing the shadow cast on the window.

MC: Lucien, actually I've been thinking about how to spend this evening with you since several days ago.

Lucien: Hmm? (chuckles, and then whispers seductively) What have you imagined?

I chuckle softly and shift to a more comfortable position, leaning against the railing.

MC: ...Many things. Um, so many things.

MC: I heard this place is famous for its night views, and many hotels have private outdoor baths.

MC: Embracing each other under the cover of night, watching the flickering lights on the water's surface... It should be a very cozy and romantic experience.

MC: Or maybe like our previous trip, getting close under the moonlight, sharing a glass of red wine, and then…

I let out a soft sigh, as if recalling the lingering and intoxicating kisses from that night.

The sound of flipping pages on the other end of the phone stopped at some point. I turn my head with interest and speak softly.

MC: Do you really have to work on your report until so late tonight?

MC: After being apart for so long... I really miss you.

The shadow cast on the gauze curtain seems to pause for a moment, and an unspoken understanding silently flows between us by our ears.

When he speaks again, Lucien's tone is subtly deeper than before.

Lucien: (his voice noticeably deeper and a bit hoarse) This lady has quite a gift for teasing people, even more so than I had imagined.

MC: (pretending to be dumb)...Why suddenly bring that up? I just wanted to chat with you, that's all.

Lucien: (slowly whispers) Is that so? It seems like I misunderstood then.

Lucien: (whispers with even lower and more hoarse voice) I originally thought this was an observational experiment with escalating variables.

I lazily raise my tone at the end of my sentence.

MC: Can't it be both? While I do want to conduct the experiment, I also want to tell you the truth.

MC: Don't you have anything to tell me right now?

The shadow on the gauze curtain gently sways with the breeze, and Lucien seems to chuckle softly.

Lucien: (chuckles softly) For example?

MC: For example... "Miss Professor, I want to terminate this experiment early because I miss you very much too."

MC: However, I only accept applications submitted in person.

I hang up the phone before Lucien can say anything else, feeling intrigued as I gaze in the direction outside.

Will this door be knocked on tonight?

[Part 4]

The warm morning light streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the balcony, drenching the room with harmonious light and shadow.

I sit in front of the dressing table, lost in thought as I tidy my clothes and glance at the door that remains unknocked. I purse my lips slightly.

I pick up the notebook and write the word "physical contact" next to "sound".

Dealing with this cunning person, it seems like it's time to further upgrade the variables.

If I "tempt" him a little today, he'll probably cross that boundary, won't he? After all, yesterday he seemed reluctant to let me go on the sofa.

As I'm reminiscing about the unfinished 'embrace', I suddenly hear a knock on the door behind me, and the door is gently pushed open.

Lucien leans against the door, smiling as he meets my gaze through the mirror. There seems to be nothing unusual in his expression.

Lucien: Breakfast has arrived, do you want to eat together?

MC: Coming right up!

I take three quick steps and grab the hem of his clothes, leading him toward the outer room while teasing him as I speak.

MC: Let me guess, it's not black coffee with bread again, is it?

Lucien: Of course not. I had the hotel prepare some local churros for us. I remember that you mentioned being curious about its taste in our previous conservation.

Lucien then speaks as his gaze falls on my ear.

Lucien: (chuckle) Your earring seems to be slightly askew.

I blink belatedly. I'm about to raise my hand to adjust it when suddenly I think of something and naturally glance at Lucien.

MC: But I can't see the angle at which the earring is askew... Could you please help me adjust it, Professor Lucien?

I step forward and see Lucien nods as he bends down toward me.

Lucien: Mm, I'd be happy to help.

The warmth of his fingertips reaches my earlobe as the slightly cool earring rotates in my ear piercing. I tilt my head slightly and hear a hint of helplessness in his voice.

Lucien: The clasp design is quite intricate, so don't move around too much for now.

MC: It's just a little disturbance, it should be fine, right?

I smile and lean closer to him, almost feeling the warmth of his breath brushing against my face. The hand near my ear seems to pause for a moment.

MC: Why don't you continue?

The temperature in the air quietly rises amidst the tranquility, his figure silhouetted against the morning light, enveloping me within.

My ear is gently caressed as if by an elusive touch. I gaze into Lucien's deepening eyes, anticipating the kiss that may descend at any moment.

But in the next second, Lucien loosens his fingertips.

Lucien: Hmm, it's all adjusted now.

Amidst my astonished gaze, Lucien straightens up and calmly walks to the dining table. It's as if that momentary flash of action was just my imagination.

I hide my inner astonishment and sit across from Lucien with a calm expression, but my mind is racing with thoughts.

Strange, why does he seem so nonchalant as if nothing happened…

The long-awaited delicacies seem to have lost their appetizing flavor. I stir the juice absentmindedly, not noticing the fleeting smile that appeared on Lucien's face.

After a while, the person in front of me calmly puts down the fork.

Lucien: Weren't you curious about the taste of churro for a long time? Why does it seem like your interest is lacking now?

Lucien: Did you try it and find that it doesn't suit your taste?

MC: ....Haha, maybe I ate too many snacks on the way yesterday.

Lucien: Have some juice first. There's still some work to do at the seminar, I'll head to the reference room first.

MC: So soon... Take it easy. I'll be waiting for you to come back.

I say it while casually adjusting his tie. It's only when I hear the sound of the door closing that I slowly withdraw my gaze.

The variable has already been upgraded from "voice", but Lucien hasn't shown a more noticeable reaction than last night.

Could it be that this light and fleeting "physical contact" wasn't enough? Or is this person deliberately acting like nothing happened?

As I ponder, I set the cup down and suddenly catch a glimpse of a badge lying in the corner of the dining table. Picking it up, I find it contains Lucien's job title and other information.

MC: ...Conference badge? Did he accidentally drop it?

I quickly stand up, ready to return the badge to the conference venue, but suddenly, I pause, as if realizing something.

Then I turn around and go back to the room, putting on the new long dress I bought.

The hotel's architectural structure is far more complex than I had imagined.

With the guidance of several staff members, I finally navigate through the maze of stairs and find the corner where the reference room is located.

The bright corridor is empty, with no one in sight, and occasionally, I can hear faint footsteps in the distance, but they never come close. I withdraw my gaze and gently push open the door in front of me.

The air seems to be infused with the subtle scent of books. The dark metal chandelier and the light wooden bookshelves work together to create a bright and clean atmosphere.

As expected, there is no one in the reference room at this moment. I tread lightly, passing through the light and shadows cast by the rows of bookshelves until I finally spot Lucien in the corner.

He is dressed in a cold white lab coat, sitting on a chair, his gaze lowered as he flips through something. His slender fingers occasionally brush over the yellowed pages.

The eyes and eyebrows that are usually slightly curved when facing me are now focused and carry a distant coldness that keeps others to remain at a respectful distance.

Perhaps it's because I haven't seen Lucien in work mode for a long time, I couldn't help but stop in my tracks and silently watch him for a moment before finally walking over.

Noticing the sound behind him, Lucien casually raises his eyes to look. He seems somewhat surprised and lets out a soft "Hm?". The expression in his eyes instantly softens.

Lucien: How did you find your way here?

MC: I came to deliver something to a certain careless professor~

I smiled and waved the work badge in my hand, walking briskly to his side while also glancing around the area.

An extensive collection of anatomical diagrams and texts, medical tools, and X-ray films emitting a cold glow... I withdrew my gaze and curiously asked.

MC: Is this conference related to medicine?

Lucien sets the work badge aside and naturally takes my hand in his.

Lucien: Mm, it mainly focuses on the application of neuroscience in rehabilitation medicine.

Lucien: Local scholars have proposed many ideas in the direction of neural circuits. After exchanging our research progress, we are considering jointly publishing new research findings.

MC: Indeed, sparks are more likely to fly when minds collide~ But why is it that only you are here?

Lucien: The locals are accustomed to having a chat at the dining table after finishing their meal. Since mealtime has just passed, it will take some time before they're coming over.

I nod thoughtfully, keenly picking up on a message — which means, no one will come to disturb us right now.

I respond with an "Oh" and curiously open my mouth to speak.

MC: By the way, we haven't really talked much about your research in this area.

MC: Neuroscience and rehabilitative medicine... Does that mean helping patients recover through certain brain activities?

Lucien: The brain and body are naturally coordinated through interactions to maintain dynamic stability in various basic physiological indicators.

Lucien: Many physiological phenomena are influenced by the central nervous system. Similarly, they can also reflect the state of the human brain and even cognition.

Lucien: If you're curious, I can use heart rate as an example to give a simple explanation.

As Lucien speaks, he casually picks up a stethoscope from the medical kit in the corner. I calmly stroke my chest, but suddenly feel nervous.

If Lucien hears my rapidly beating heart right now, he will probably notice that I'm plotting something…

MC: ...Let me do it! It will leave a deeper impression if I do it myself~

I say as I pick up another stethoscope. I notice Lucien raises an eyebrow and his eyes slightly curve.

Lucien: Not only do I have to be MC's teacher, but I also have to play the role of teaching aid?

MC: Talented people should take on more responsibilities, so I'll trouble you a bit~

As if accepting my words, Lucien obediently leans back on the chair, watching me with interest as I put on the stethoscope.

Just as I'm about to place the stethoscope against his chest, he suddenly extends his hand and I stop him.

MC: Please, Mr. Teaching Aid, stay still and don't move around.

Lucien: Don't misunderstand, I just want to minimize any factors that might affect your auscultation.

As Lucien speaks, he raises his hand under my gaze and meticulously unbuttons the topmost button.

The sound of the buttons coming undone is barely audible in the confined space.

Like a small electric current passing from my auditory nerves to my chest, my heartbeat accelerates uncontrollably.

In the faint and elusive light and shadow, his slender neck and collarbone gradually reveal themselves, following the movements of his fingertips and the downward opening of his collar.

The air in the cramped information room carries a sense of warmth and stuffiness, there seems to be a hint of humidity reflected in his eyes. His jet-black bangs stick moistly to his head.

In the silence, a bead of sweat drips down his jaw, landing silently in the shallow valley that rises and falls with his breath, only to be absorbed by the damp fabric.

I exhale.

The electric currents entwined around my heart suddenly transform into a hidden flame. I can almost hear my breath slowing down as I tighten my grip on the stethoscope head.

Lucien, as if completely unaware, raises his hand and casually winds the work badge around his wrist, tightening it leisurely.

His cold white lab coat is disheveled, and the tie that was neatly adjusted when he left is now loosely hanging around his neck.

Yet, he calmly gazes at me, his tone still carrying a meticulousness that makes one want to break through.

Lucien: As you can see, I can't move freely right now.

Lucien: So, would you say I'm cooperative enough like this?

MC: ...It’s enough!!

As if trying to conceal my increasingly rapid heartbeat, I press the stethoscope against his chest, moving it along the gently rising and falling chest.

Immediately, I hear the low and rhythmic sound filling my ears.

Lucien's voice sounds timely.

Lucien: Did you hear anything?

I purse my lips without showing any emotion, trying my best to maintain a calm tone.

MC: Y-your heartbeat seems to be very fast... 81 beats per minute, is that a normal rate?

Lucien: Don't worry. Under the influence of special factors, a resting heart rate can approach around 100 beats per minute.

Lucien: (with his voice noticeably a bit hoarse and low in the end) The load brought on by exercise, changes in temperature, and the control of the autonomic nervous system... all of these can have an impact on the heart rate.

I seem to sense something and meet Lucien's gaze. His eyes look deep, as if a bit darker than usual.

But I feel like I've been scorched by flames, and my gaze involuntarily flickers. My instinct whispers softly in my ear, telling me that the person in front of me is not as calm as he appears to be.

Even though I don't feel thirsty, my throat involuntarily moves. I grip the stethoscope head, which has warmed up with his body temperature, and continue to slowly lower it.

MC: But we haven't left the data room since a while ago, so we can probably rule out the first two factors.

Lucien: Hm, a very keen deduction. What else?

I can hear the vigorous and rhythmic beats in my ears, almost in sync with the rhythm of my heart beating in my chest.

Lucien's lips curve up with a hint of praise, and his voice still carries a trace of unruffled calmness.

I casually take off the stethoscope. My knees press against the surface of the chair between his legs and move closer to him.

(...she gets on the chair👀)

Our breaths intertwine, and I can almost see my own reflection in his eyes.

MC: Your pupils have dilated a bit, and the color of your eyes has deepened.

MC: From the physiological knowledge I know, there could be many possible reasons…

MC: But considering the earlier deduction and the current situation, it seems like there's only one conclusion.

Lucien seems to let out a very soft laugh, and his hands bound by the lanyard move slightly.

Lucien: Speak out.

My fingertips slide into the tightening gap of the lanyard, pressing against his increasingly warm wrist.

MC: Are you... trying to restrain yourself right now?

MC: Or should I say, you really want to do something right now?

The wrist that I'm touching moves, and the strong pulsations under my fingertips seem to be telling me the answer in advance.

A dangerous curve forms at the corner of Lucien's mouth, and his eyes look at me from bottom to top.

Lucien: (whispers hoarsely) If I say yes, what measures do you plan to take?

My fingertips skillfully hook and release the rope binding his wrist.

The sound of the work badge hitting the ground resonates. Amidst Lucien's sudden proximity and his intense gaze, I softly laugh and speak.

MC: This is my answer.

[Part 4-Intertwined Memory]

(T/N: I KNOW y’all want to jump into the fun part but please read this part first so the next part will make more sense-)

=Flashback From Last Night=

The darkness spreads across the skyline of a foreign land, and distant lights begin to twinkle one by one.

The gauze curtain flutters, and it seems like footsteps can be heard on the balcony outside, but it quickly falls back into silence.

I turn my head slightly, only to find that Lucien has quietly brushed aside the gauze curtain and is leaning against the door, looking at me in silence.

In the flowing tranquility, ambiguity grows quietly like creeping vines. I tuck the strands of hair lifted by the night breeze behind my ear and gaze back into his eyes.

MC: At this hour... Professor Lucien, are you planning to submit an application to terminate the experiment early?

Lucien smiles and shakes his head.

Lucien: (chuckles) I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint Miss Professor.

Lucien: I just thought that there are some special circumstances in the experiment, and perhaps we need to discuss them.

I raise an eyebrow and teasingly ask for more details.

MC: Is that so? How come I feel like you deliberately found an excuse to see me?

MC: If you change the experiment process without permission, be careful, I'll consider that as cheating.

Lucien's lips curl up with a hint of slyness, and he takes a step forward.

The warm airflow brushes against his bangs, revealing those deep eyes as dark as the night.

Lucien: It's just a step-by-step progression, from hearing your voice to seeing you in person. Next, MC can continue upgrading from the current level.

Lucien: Or... are the variables you prepared ending here?

Under his smiling gaze, I choke for a moment but casually speak as if nothing happened.

MC: ...Hmph, of course not.

MC: Then do tell me, what are the circumstances you want to discuss with me?

Lucien nods and speaks seriously.

Lucien: In actual scientific research, there are several possibilities that may lead to the experiment being terminated prematurely, aside from the participants voluntarily withdrawing their applications.

MC: Hmm, I haven't heard you mention this before... For example?

Lucien: Insufficient rigor in the process, lack of experimental funding, missing key personnel... Of course, our experiment won't involve such complex factors.

Lucien: Excluding all of the above, there is only one situation that needs to be avoided.

A hint of nervousness mixed with curiosity arises. I blink my eyes and instinctively ask for further clarification.

MC: What is it?

Lucien: The experiment leader voluntarily announces giving up.

There seems to be a hint of implication in his low voice. I pause for a moment and then nod with understanding, shaking my index finger slightly.

MC: Professor Lucien is worrying too much~ In this self-control experiment, there won't be such a possibility occurring.

Lucien chuckles softly.

Lucien: At the beginning of any experiment, the experiment leader is filled with enthusiasm and belief. However, as it progresses, their mindset can unconsciously change.

Lucien: So I believe there's no need to rush to a conclusion... After all, you just said it yourself, that you really wanted to see me, right?

As he speaks, Lucien's body quietly draws closer. The night breeze is gentle, making the end of my hair caressing his face, as if there are some hidden thoughts entwined between us.

Even though we are still leaning on the railings of our respective rooms, I can't help but feel like he can hear the drumming heartbeat in my chest.

Lucien: I do have something I haven't told you yet.

Lucien: Not just today, but every night since we parted... (whispers softly) I've been missing you.

My heartbeat suddenly quickens. Under his focused gaze, I try to distract myself by pinching my palm, attempting to appear nonchalant as I avert my gaze.

MC: Hearing this before going to bed, I think I can have sweet dreams tonight.

MC: But if you want me to give up, you'll have to try a little harder~ Good Night, Professor Lucien.

Lucien gazes at me intently for a moment, then sighs lightly and straightens his body.

Lucien: (chuckle) …Good night, MC.

I nod and return to the room under Lucien's gaze. Calmly, I close the gauze curtain, then place my hand on my chest. My heartbeat is so fast that it feels like it could take flight.

I let out a sigh, half delighted and half annoyed, and bury my heated ears in the blanket.

What sweet dreams... Tonight, I probably won't be able to sleep.

[NOTE THAT, in this flashback Lucien is giving MC two choices that’ll available for her through the experiment, for MC to keep increasing the variables; or to stop the experiment by announcing that she's giving up with the experiment. And as you can see from part 3, MC still hasn't announced her surrender, only making it harder for Lucien to control himself by taking off the work badge. Since she hasn't announced her surrender, as far as both of them know the experiment still goes on, Lucien still needs to control himself, and she will increase the variable in the next part.]

[Part 5]

The air in the afternoon seems to be frozen in the silent gaze, with only the heat slowly spreading between us.

The heartbeat beneath my fingertips, the breath brushing against my face... everything about the person in front of me is telling me that he shares the same desires as I do.

I let out a sigh and dazedly gaze into Lucien's dark eyes. Suddenly, I feel a little regretful.

If we don't start this experiment, we would have more time to enjoy.

However, he's so smart that even if I don't say anything, he should have sensed my silent surrender, right? ...Then why doesn’t he 'respond' to me quickly?

I whispered in my heart, my high heels fell to the ground somewhere along the line and tangled with the pile of work badge.

Lucien: MC….

Lucien didn't speak, he just softly murmured my name.

The hand gripping my waist is caressing and tightening, as if wanting to embed me in an embrace, yet also trying to stop my movements.

The voice by my ear is as low as a sigh, brushing against my crumbling rationality. I clutch onto his clothes and bite my lips in frustration.

[Note: to avoid CN censorship- the narrative doesn't describe her actions and focuses more on her thoughts as she increases the variables and makes advances, remember that from the previous part (Part 4) Lucien is sitting on a chair, and MC also get on it- Now his breath is brushing against her face, so they're now looking face-to-face, the high heels fell to the ground somewhere along the line, so she's been on his lap for quite… some time now. She's a bit frustrated that Lucien hasn't 'responded' to her 'movements' on his lap. To put it bluntly, she’s ‘riding’ him right now.]

At this moment, Lucien's phone suddenly rings with a notification sound.

A sudden clarity flashes through my hazy mind, and I instinctively turn my head to see "The Seminar Group invites you to join the voice conference" flashing on the screen.

MC: ….

As my drowsy rationality returns, I become aware of the burning sensation in my ears. Worried about what urgent work might be, I force myself* to lean forward and take the phone from the table, handing it to him.

(T/N: 强撑 means to force oneself to do something despite struggles or difficulties, and of course, she's struggling to lean forward and take the phone because she is 'stuck' on his d-)

Lucien takes the phone with one hand, but the hand holding my waist doesn't let go. He softly shushes and casually taps on the screen.

The noisy voices suddenly come through the receiver, breaking the cramped silence.

Scholar A: ...I insist we need more evidence for this experiment.

Scholar B: It would be a waste of time..... Why do you keep quiet, Dr. Lucien?

Lucien: Keep going. I'm listening.

Despite saying so, his eyes are still stained by the tide and remain fixed on my face, as if he has no intention of letting me go.

I shake his unmoving arm, feeling slightly stifled by the situation.

Just a moment ago, he was acting all calm and unmoved, and now he's pulling and teasing me like this….

I lower my head with a hint of resentment, following the force on my waist as I go down and vent my frustration by biting him on the shoulder.

I hear a restrained gasp near my ear as I take his phone a little further away and quickly lean in to whisper in Lucien's ear.

MC: Since you have important matters to attend to, I'll take my leave.

MC: ...Once again, I have to let work occupy you first.

Amid our conversation, footsteps echo in the hallway, getting closer and mingling with the intense discussion that sounds just like the one on the phone.

The scholars who haven't hung up the call seem to have arrived outside the reference room. I swiftly place the phone back into Lucien's hand and get down to pick up my high heels from the ground.

It seems like leaving now is not an option; at least, I have to tidy up our appearances before they come closer….

The next second, my waist is tightly embraced, and I fall back into the embrace behind me again.

Lucien: I've been cooperating with MC's experiment... (whispers hoarsely) but is this as far as the variable changes go? Won't they continue any further?

His tone carries a casual yet dangerous smile. And as if responding to my previous retaliation, his scorching breath slowly trails up my shoulder.

This man is really…!

I lightly hum and give his shoulder a push.

MC: Let's talk about that later. Let me clean up first.

Lucien: No matter the reason, giving up halfway is not a good habit.

The sound of the door opening suddenly echoes, and the noise and footsteps from the corridor rush in. Separated by a dozen rows of bookshelves, I can almost see those approaching figures.

The restraint on my lower back shows no sign of loosening. I open my eyes slightly wider, and my tone finally becomes faster.

MC: Don't bully me, we won't make it in time…!

Lucien: (whispers teasingly) Really? But MC was obviously very bold when she taught me just now.

Lucien: Bold enough... to make me want to watch a bit longer, to see how far your experiment will progress.

As the words are spoken, the dark colors in my vision suddenly turn into a golden-red illuminated by sunlight. The footsteps that were close just a moment ago also disappear all of a sudden.

I snap back to reality and realize that the surroundings have turned into the rooftop at some point. I'm momentarily stunned and then realize that he has used Evol to take me away from the reference room.

The lush foliage reflects on Lucien's figure, and his eyes also flicker with changing light and shadow. His voice carries an unabashed smile.

Lucien: I thought you knew I wouldn't let anyone else see what you just did.

MC: (blushing) ...You, you did it on purpose!

Saying this, my tense shoulders finally relax a bit. I take a deep breath and suddenly remember something.

MC: They must have something to discuss with you, right? Will leaving like this affect their work?

Lucien: Don't worry. The final stage is just a continuation of the discussion, and there won't be any new issues to address.

Lucien: Compared to that, what's happening right now is even more important.

I blink my eyes and hesitantly open my mouth to speak.

MC: What you mentioned, could it be the experiment between us that hasn't yielded any results yet?

Lucien gazes at me without confirming or denying anything, moving closer in my direction. Without getting an answer, a kiss descends upon me without any hesitation.

It's as if the long-restrained emotions have finally found an outlet, his scorching lips moving passionately and entwining, and almost stealing all my breath away.

I have no choice but to part my lips, and the next second, Lucien takes advantage and delves even deeper, as if wanting to entangle and capture my tongue.

I find myself clinging to his neck, lifting my head as if surrendering to a hunter, feebly responding to this kiss.

Until I finally find a moment to catch my breath, I tilt my head away, struggling to open my mouth as if trying to gain more breathing space.

MC: Wait... this isn't scientific-

The embrace around my body seems to tremble. Lucien lifts his head, as if seeing through my intentions, his eyes filled with surprises and tinged with a sense of provocation. He shows me a rogue smile.

Lucien: ...Do we still need to discuss that experiment at this moment? Then let's continue.

Despite his words, he entangles me with a tidal-like kiss, voraciously devouring my words.

It seems like a layer of mist has clouded my vision, but I can't ignore the stirring of his fingers, so I can only beg softly for mercy.

MC: (blushing) I-I didn't mean to discuss…

Lucien: (whispers hoarsely) I told you before, giving up halfway is not a good habit, Miss Professor.

Lucien: So, make sure you let me hear it all, your judgments and conclusions…

With his words, his fingers press in as if punishing. I moan and my fingers clutching onto his solid back begin to tremble.

MC: (still blushing)....I-I remember that in the experiment, the variables need to progress continuously... to see more significant results.

MC: I-I haven't done anything now... w-why... why is it more... than when I just gave you "physical contact" earlier, I seem to be-

Lucien: Getting a stronger reaction?

Lucien takes over my words, and there seems to be a hint of amusement in his unsatisfied tone.

His deep breath comes close to my ear, and his fingertips teasingly dance around, then suddenly press in again.

Lucien: (whispers hoarsely) Because this Miss Professor hasn't considered the most core variable yet.

It’s as if fireworks are blooming in my depth, my heartbeat echoes with a humming sound. I pant a little, feeling a bit dazed, and open my mouth.

MC: ...And what is that?

A kiss that seems both like a reward and comfort lands gently on my lips.

Lucien: (exhales lightly and then whispers huskily) Your influence.

The flickering lights reflect in his glistening eyes as if trying to peer into my soul.

Lucien: "Lovers are like mirrors, reflecting their desires for each other."

Lucien: Every bit of my desire is tied with you.

Lucien: When you wish to explore the limits of my self-control, I'll be equally eager to satisfy your curiosity…

Lucien: Just like how I long to explore everything about you.

Lucien: But when you personally unlock this restraint named "self-control", naturally, I'll have even more desires.

His face looms larger in my field of vision. I tremble involuntarily, feeling his touch once again, accompanied by ambiguous whispers.

Lucien: (whispers lowly and hoarsely) ...Compared to seeking the result that we both unanimously don't care about... Right now, I'd rather immerse myself in every moment spent with you.

The kiss between our lips gradually deepens, and I involuntarily close my eyes. I feel like floating into the high clouds and falling into a soft marsh.

Every little gap in my consciousness is deeply imprinted with Lucien's traces.

In the hazy sunlight, it's as if I can hear his unfinished whisper.

Lucien: For example, in the present kiss.

[Lux's Ramble Corner]

For once I can actually see why it gets past the censor HAHA. Compared to the UR that's more explicit, PG is very careful with the kiss SP, using vague wording that can be interpreted innocently if you don't know the context😂 although you can also interpret MC's 'increasing variable' in the reference room as simply touching, or grinding against him; I think she was really moving up and down to f- him because her appearance also a mess and his finger slid very easily inside her until she reached the climax (the 'fireworks') in the rooftop garden ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

ALSO it’s mentioned that MC wears a long dress before she went into the reference room, see the how in the CG it gets rolled up lol. The angle of the CG is smart asf bc it hides their front appearance. 

ANYWAY H-WORD ASIDE, this date is really good. I enjoy their dynamic as 'opponent' and their battle of wits. Although you can say that Lucien is 'winning', at the same time he said it himself that his desire is under MC's control and influence. If MC wants to continue the experiments he's more than happy to oblige (and surprisingly he has a *really* good self-control), but since she's kind of already given up then it's just natural that he also let go of his restraint. The choice ultimately will always be in her hand.

In the MQ there's a conflict between satisfying MC's (and his) curiosity and satisfying their longing for each other. It's evident from the way Lucien immediately books the earliest flight home and MC literally takes a flight to Granada just to meet him. The experiment started smoothly, but they clearly grew to miss each other again too, and they began caring less and less about the experiment.

Although Lucien can also stop the experiment, he still wants her to be the one to put it to a stop. Because, again, her desire is his, if she wants to explore him more deeply, he will oblige. But, still, since he also misses her, he also entices her to stop the experiment, either by purposefully leaving the ID card so she will meet him in the reference room, or by tying himself up while stripping 😂.

'However, he's so clever that even if I don't speak, he should be able to see my silent surrender, right? ...Then why doesn't he 'respond' to me quickly?'

-

Really? But MC was very bold when she 'taught' me just now.

Bold enough…. to make me want to watch a bit longer, to see how far your experiment will progress.

As she increases the variables, she eventually silently surrenders, thinking that they could enjoy more time together if it wasn't because of the experiment. I think Lucien noticed this too, but at that point, he was also curious to see how far she could go.

"Lovers are like mirrors, reflecting their desires for each other."

Still, this curiosity doesn't last long because, in the end, his desire is tied to hers. The experiment doesn't matter anymore because she unconsciously desires more to spend every moment with him and for him to respond to her rather than to really test his self-control. And because of this he also let go of his self-control, showing a greater reaction even if she hasn't done anything because that's what she desires.

Also lastly, about the scratch marks and hickeys on his lower back....  the date clearly implies that they don’t immediately f-ck because of MC’s experiments. MC f-ing him with her on top won’t leave such marks too,  because to move in such a state, putting your hand here is not comfortable and that didn’t explain the hickeys (that also look older btw).  There’s no other explanation than they’re from the last time they fucked  before get separated- It must be rough and intense if they left marks that last for a month LOL. And with Lucien's tendencies to be more emotional when he parts with MC, it makes sense.

I think that’s all from me? Just my take on the plot lololol. Hope y’all enjoy this date as much as I do~

[honorarybuckley]

like all bad decisions eddie doesn’t mean for it to happen. it’s supposed to be a photo shoot. completely innocent. he should have known nothing with evan buckley is ever entirely innocent.

evan, or buck as he prefers to be called, has never been one of his students, but it’s a small campus and he’s heard the rumors: fifth year senior, president of his fraternity, art major, infuriatingly charming, and elusively single. he’s slept his way through the life drawing models, no matter the gender, and rarely shows up for class yet has a decent gpa.

the real thing doesn’t match the stories however. not entirely. behind the camera, his preferred medium apparently, he is professional, respectful, and competent. there is a hint of flirtation but in that way that seems effortless, a trick to put his subject at ease. and it works on eddie almost too well.

they talk about him while buck shoots and somehow eddie winds up practically sharing his life story. from growing up in texas to his brief stint in the army and why he chose to teach ethics.

he tells him about his son, christopher, surprisingly fast and buck lights up with a smile that makes eddie ache in ways he knows he shouldn’t.

it isn’t until the privacy curtain is being pulled back before he’s gotten his shirt back on that it happens. buck stands there, a few inches taller than eddie, hand on his belt and lip tucked between his teeth, eyes tracing every inch of eddie’s exposed skin.

before eddie can ask what he’s doing, buck is leaning in close. there’s no hesitancy as his mouth finds eddie’s and oh, he shouldn’t. but he does.

my submission to @texasbama’s post