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mostly-imagines · 6 months ago

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I Missed My Funeral

jason todd x reader

aka you learn what happened to jason

warnings: detailed discussion of how jason died, this is not so happy but i can promise you my jason angst will always have comfort

You wonder if your nightmares are accurate.

Your brain is probably just conjuring up every worst case scenario it can fathom, but maybe there’s truth to one of them. You hope not.

It’s something you haven’t been able to keep out of your mind these past few weeks, and everything seems to remind you of it. When you see his guns, when you’re using a knife to cut up dinner, when you see a car crash on the news, or even when you walk past a fucking pharmacy. The thoughts are everywhere, all the time.

Even as you lay in bed, head on his chest, your mind keeps on drifting where you wish it wouldn’t.

You know he died. He never said it out loud, but you’d seen his autopsy scar plenty of times. You’d always refrained from asking questions, he seemed nervous enough the first handful of times he was around you with his shirt off. Enough time has passed that he’s comfortable being shirtless around you, even okay when you touch his chest. The decrease in boundaries has granted you more solace in one another, but it’s also caused your mind to go wild with possibilities.

Even now, as you lie against his bare chest, you can’t keep your cat-killing thoughts away.

“You’re being quiet,” He comments, not accusatory, just factual.

You snap out of reverie, “Sorry, I—”

His hand soothes up and down your arm without pause, “Don’t be sorry. What’s going on?”

“I just…” you look down, thinking over your words. “What…what happened to you?” You ask quietly.

He goes still.

You immediately regret bringing it up, sitting up from his chest to meet his eyes, “I’m sorry, I don’t need to—”

He shakes his head. The slightest response from him shuts you right up. “No, it’s…it’s okay. Probably should’ve said something by now.”

He nudges your head back down to his chest and you oblige, trying to relax your body against him again. It’s a difficult thing to talk yourself into when his isn’t any more relaxed.

“I…you know I used to be Robin?” His voice is low, hesitant.

You nod.

“Well…I made a mistake—a few mistakes. I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been and I walked into a trap.”

You’re sure he’s placing more blame on himself than he should, though you don’t know enough to fight him on it yet. You wrap your hand around his forearm that drapes across your chest, a silent affirmation that you’re here with nothing but support and reassurance.

His breath stutters, “The, uh…the Joker set me up and…well, he killed me.”

You don’t want to ask how. You don’t want to know how. But you feel like you have to and it’s selfish and you know that but you can’t leave just it at that.

It’s a barely audible whisper. You’re not even sure Jason could fully hear the word, but he understands the intent anyway.

His next exhale is shaky, “Yeah, um, that’s the rough part.”

Your head twitches. “That’s the rough part?” You breathe out, scared to hear what’s next.

You can’t see from this angle, but Jason’s eyes are welling over, trying desperately not to let tears fall. It takes him a moment to prepare himself to verbalize the next part.

“He…he be—” he stops himself. “…He hit me with a crowbar. A lot.”

Oh.

You can physically feel your chest sink.

That’s worse than all the horrifying scenarios you’d built up in your head. That’s…he was beaten to death. For trying to help people.

You don’t want to leave him in the silence for too long, so you ask the only thing you can think to.

“How old were you?”

He drops his head to press his mouth against your head, like he’s trying to ground himself. “Fifteen,” He murmurs into your hair.

Oh.

You flip over so you’re chest to chest with him and hold him tight. “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t expecting you to say that. The very very few times he’s had anything even remotely relating to this conversation, the revelation is always met by silence. Or worse.

But you’re sorry. No one’s ever said that to him before. About anything, but especially this. What does sorry even mean in this context? You didn’t do anything, are you sorry for asking? Do you…do you feel bad for him?

He swallows hard, “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah,” You say, furrowing your brow. “You’re a good person, Jay. You’re a really good person and…you didn’t deserve any of the shit that happened to you. Especially that. I hate that you’ve been through so much and I’m sorry.”

He refuses to blink but the tears are threatening to win anyways with nowhere else to go.

He shakes his head weakly, “It was my own fault.”

“Jason,” you say seriously. “It was not your fault. You were trying to help someone, weren’t you?”

It takes him a moment to respond to that. “I—yeah. Yes. My mom. My birth mom.” He takes a breath, “He, uh, he was blackmailing her and I tried to help her—I tried. But she gave me up to try and save herself…it didn’t matter in the end.”

While you didn’t know about the history with his birth mom, you’d been sure he’d died helping someone. That’s just who he is—whether he knows it or not.

“There was a bomb and it…” He lets that bit trail off. “I don’t remember the explosion. I think I passed out before it happened.”

He doesn’t remember the explosion. But…

He does remember the other part.

You have to drop your head into his neck so that he doesn’t see the way your eyes well up.

“Please know you’re a good person. Please,” you plead. “You’re the best person I know.”

“But…” his breath comes out shaky, “No one…no one did anything.”

The tears fall now, and in spite of the fact that he hasn’t let himself cry in front of anyone since he was ten, he doesn’t feel the usual burning impulse to hide. Not from you.

His voice breaks as he says, “He killed me and he didn’t…”

You sit up straight again and hold his face in your hands, looking him in the eye. “That’s not your fault. Whatever Bruce did or didn’t do, it has nothing to do with you. It’s all about him.”

You gently wipe his tears with your thumb as the weight of his head drops forward, leaving your touch the only thing holding him up.

You know he has…problems with Bruce. You know his death is a sore subject among them for more reasons than the obvious. You also know the Joker still lives and breathes today and there’s some sort of rule or agreement that Jason isn’t allowed out on patrol when he’s loose.

There’s clear trust issues there, on both sides, but you’ve always had trouble figuring out what exactly Bruce had done to leave Jason so closed off. It pushed him away from his family and caused potentially irreparable scarring to his ability to trust other people. It actually makes a lot of sense that this is what caused the rift between them—you’d been thinking maybe Bruce was the reason Jason died or he couldn’t stop it, but this…this is a different kind of damaging. Fuck, no wonder Jason feels like he doesn’t belong in his family.

You take a heavy breath, “You’re important. You’re important to me and whatever moral roadblocks Bruce couldn’t get over doesn’t change that—it has nothing to do with how good you are.”

You’re definitely crying now but at this point it doesn’t matter. It’s more important for him to hear this than for you to pretend like this isn’t as horrible as it is.

He doesn’t look up at you but you can see his own tears dripping off his face. You don’t see him cry very much at all, and definitely not like this.

You sniffle, “Do you wanna switch?”

He nods against your palms and lets you out of his hold to sit up as he shifts lower on the bed and wraps his arms around your torso. You weave one of your hands in his hair and stroke softly. The other rubs soothing patterns on his back, feeling the heaviness of his breath under it.

You kiss the top of his head, “I love you. So much.”

He holds you tighter, murmuring “I love you,” into your chest.

It’s quiet for several minutes after as you both process the words said.

You’re the first to pipe up again, “How did…”

He exhales, “Ah…it’s a little complicated…”

He wants to talk about it another time. That’s fine by you.

Another silent minute passes before, “Bruce isn’t…he’s not a bad…we had a lot of problems after I came back. Both of us. Took a while to get over ‘em.” There’s a beat before, “Still getting over ‘em.”

You nod, continuing tracing onto his back. His voice is clearer again, stronger.

“Is that why you don’t like being at the batcave?” you ask.

“No,” he murmurs. “It’s ‘cause he keeps the suit on display.”

You look down at him, frowning. “What suit?”

“The robin suit.”

You pause.

“That robin suit?”

He nods.

…what

for clarification bc i think i thought this was canon oh well

🔮🕯️the reblog witch bids you do her bidding 🕯️🔮

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localkiss · 1 year ago

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Heavenly sin

virgin pastor's son!leon kennedy x virgin fem!reader

cw: guilt!! p in v, porn watching (has some "intense" sex ig??), needy sex, virginity loss, creampies, thinking about god during sex, humping (dry at one point), oral (f receiving), awkwardness, CHECK-INS!!!, dirty talk, begging, soft ish dom!leon, pet names, mentions of daddy kink but only once, pregnancy mentioned a couple times, Leon's a sweetheart, goofy ending, rough ish treatment only once, confessions!!

wc: 6k...🧍🏻‍♀️

note: barely proof read and I don't know shit about church or anything like that... Lmk if I missed any tags! Also inspired by @moolvn's bot!

@valkyrurr @rigorwhoring @marymustdie @tatumrileyslover @frostywintersnow @queenofstresss haii yall ! :3

It's around 10 in the morning, and you're dressed in a flowy black dress with flower patterns on it. Perfect for church and for this wonderful spring weather. Pulling your hair back into a low ponytail, you get out of your parents car. They have already gone inside the church.

Walking briskly to the entrance, you take note of the flowers that are planted on each side that're beginning to bloom in the glowy sunlight. You make it in time to sit next to your parents before the prayer begins.

You bow your head and begin to listen to it. Soft shuffling is heard, and then there's a warmth on your right side, as if a heater were turned on.

Peaking out of your right eye, you see the pastor's son, Leon. Dressed in dark wash jeans and a white button up. He tilts his head towards you and smiles, mouthing, "Hello."

You smile and shake your head, closing your eyes to listen in on his father recite a prayer, so that the Holy Spirit will help us all understand God's words.

Despite trying to listen to him preach, your mind wanders off to the boy next to you. How his muscles ripple underneath his shirts. (which are always fitting for him. Like how?) And the way his beautiful oceanic eyes shine with purity. Especially when he's preaching about how God is constantly saving and bettering him and how important he truly is in his life. The way his brown hair flows in the wind and how it falls into his eye whenever he looks down.

It's all beautiful to you. You'd rather worship Leon than God. Would it be a sin to worship man instead of the Lord? Probably.

Every time you spoke with Leon, you felt dirty. You were filled with these disgusting, sinful feelings. You were afraid of it rubbing off on him and getting into trouble. Getting called the devil. Shunned and kicked out of the house for having feelings you didn't know how to fucking handle.

After all, you were only human. One with needs, thoughts, feelings, and insatiable cravings for a certain man beside you.

Once the pastor stops the prayer, everything else goes by quickly. You try not to stare at Leon while his father is reading aloud hymns. But it's impossible.

He catches your eye and flashes you a boyish smile. You look away. It's quite embarrassing to have been caught staring at him. You couldn't help it.

A couple hours later, the service ends. You get up and stretch your limbs, ready to leave.

A large hand grabs onto your forearm. Warmth surges through your veins, all the way up to your midsection.

Turning your head, you see that it's Leon.

He lets go of you with a smile. "Are you busy today? I was wondering if you'd like to come over."

Biting your lip, you think for a moment. Looking over at your parents, they give you a nod of approval.

"I'm free. I can come over today."

Both of you walk towards the exit, and he opens the door like a gentleman. You mutter a small "thank you" and step outside.

The cool, light breeze washes over your body like a cold shower. It feels refreshing after being in a stuffy room for more than an hour. Breathing it in and letting it out, you turn towards Leon.

He squints at you with a small smile, motioning to follow him. You oblige, putting your hands on the bottom of your dress and bunching up the fabric so that it doesn't fly up.

By the time you guys make it to his house, your feet are dying in the black flats you're wearing. Rubbed raw on your heels by your pinky and big toes.

You sigh in relief as you enter his house, slipping your shoes off by the door.

The both of you walk into the kitchen and grab a cup of water. Heading upstairs to his room. You try to push down the nerves and excitement bubbling in your guts, but it's so hard.

All you guys ever do is read, listen to the radio, and talk about your guys's jobs. Not all exciting, but laying in his bed and being so close to him is what gets your panties soaked. Maybe you are the devil's spawn. Getting aroused by just being in Leon's vicinity. It's bad. Real bad.

He opens his door and walks in, laying down on his plush queen-sized bed. His hair falls to the sides of his face as he closes his eyes. Breathing in deeply and then exhaling slowly.

You sit on the bed, eyeing him up while his eyes are closed. Noticing the way his veins on his hands are popping out, the small little freckles that paint his face and neck, and the way his lips look so velvety.

Wondering what it would feel like between your legs, your calves, and your neck. You shouldn't be thinking about him like this. It's wrong. But it feels so right.

"So, uh, what are we going to do?" You mutter quietly, tearing your gaze away from the white man beside you.

"I thought that we could just hang out."

"Okay." You scratch your head for a moment, looking at one of the posters on his wall. It's a poster for The Legend of Zelda, Ocarina of Time. It's probably one of the only games his parents approve of.

"Actually, hold on." He sits up slowly and begins to walk towards his desk, fishing something out. He holds up a CD with a grin. "I found this lying around on the bookstore floor. I thought that we could check it out."

Motioning with a nod of his head towards his computer. The thick monitor has the circular silver Dell logo on it at the bottom. Paired with his grey and black mouse.

Popping it into his PC as it whirrs on, you snatch his swiveling chair, making him sit on the uncomfortable wooden chair next to it. Maybe you should get a new best friend, thinking about how you come over so much that he has gotten another chair just in case you guys get on his computer.

You take over and open the Windows Media Player, then double-click on the CD's name. Spice it up in the bedroom! What an odd name.

Turning up the volume on his mini speakers that're alongside his monitor as you wait for the media to load.

A woman and a man appear in the frame, with a messy bed behind them. She's hardly wearing any clothing, only her undergarments and stockings are on her figure. Meanwhile, the man is only dressed in his briefs.

You feel your cheeks burn red hot, swallowing thickly at the video. Afraid of what's going to happen next and afraid of looking at Leon after this surprise of a CD, you continue to look straight ahead.

They don't even introduce themselves, but they say one thing: "Here's how to spice things up in the bedroom. Watch and learn."

Shifting in the cushiony chair, you unconsciously grab onto the armrests.

The next part shows the woman lying down with her legs spread open. The man walks into the frame and sits on the floor next to the end of the bed. Putting his face in between her legs, he kisses her thighs. Trailing up to the bend of her knees and then to her ankles. Repeating the same for her other leg.

Then he begins to leave small bite marks and bruises on her inner thighs. With each of them, her hips jump, and small moans leave her lips.

You squeeze your thighs together, feeling your most sacred parts ache with need. Hoping Leon doesn't notice it.

But he did, just didn't want to point it out and embarrass the both of you even more than you guys already are. He's always staring at you subtly. He's not doing any better on his end, cock filling out in his jeans, begging to be freed from its confinement.

He's just thinking about the kind of noises you'd make if he kissed you there. But he shouldn't think about that. His heart sinks into his stomach, feeling guilty for even having those sorts of thoughts about you from time to time. He wanted to baptize himself again and again until those thoughts clouded him no more.

Leon always had to shower in cold water to make all of the pent-up need go away from his dick. He was afraid to touch himself. Especially to the thought of you. He thought you didn't deserve to be sexualized. How wrong it is to even imagine your lips on his! How soft and plush you'd be against his body.

Feeling like the devil has made its way into both of your bodies. Lust coats both of your frontal lobes, coaxing you into continuing to watch this sinful CD.

The man begins to lick and kiss her panties which makes her noises grow louder and breathier. You hope to God that his parents don't come home anytime soon.

He slips her panties off, and her precious parts are exposed to the camera. Leon makes a small gasping sound, and you snap your head towards him.

"Leon, I.. I don't know if we should watch this. This is... wrong. I feel dirty, Leon." You search his eyes, hoping he'll agree, but he just blinks slowly at you.

"I-I think we should continue. Don't act like this doesn't pique your interest," he mutters back. His eyes are slowly beginning to darken.

Turning your focus on the screen, you hear him noisily slurping away between her thighs. The woman begins to get louder, and her fingers slot through his hair and pull him closer.

She yells out, "I'm cumming!" And soon her legs squeezed shut on his head, her body convulsing and lunging forward to curl in on itself.

"Fuck baby, that was so hot," He comes up and kisses her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and flipping her over onto her stomach. Fumbling with his black briefs, tugging them down and stepping out of them.

You squirm uncomfortably, not sure if you can handle seeing a random man naked. But you gulp down the bile crawling up your throat, mixed in with sickening guilt.

His cock stands up to attention, the tip as red as a tomato. A patch of hair surrounds it, leading down between his legs. He strokes it a couple of times, lolling his head back with a loud groan.

"You ready, slut?" Tapping himself against her folds.

"Y-Yes sir, I'm ready." The woman frantically nods and pushes up on her elbows, watching him sink into her hole.

He grips her hair as soon as he's fully sheathed inside, pulling her towards him. Making her see how they're connected. You bite your lip as you watch this couple go at it for about five minutes. Watching them change positions and get louder and louder with each minute that passes by.

He puts his hand on her throat and slaps her face, breasts, ass, and privates. It all makes you feel fuzzy inside, like you drank too much alcohol. The world is slowly starting to spin, with all thoughts going straight down between your thighs.

But the way he talks to her is what really gets you.

"You like that slut? Fuckin' taking daddy's cock so well, fuck."

"Good girl. I know you can take it."

"Yeah, cum on me, baby, squeeze this fat dick."

"Stupid fucking whore, practically crying for me to creampie this tight little pussy. Isn't that right, baby? God, you know you want my cum stuffed in you."

Her punched-out moans—the way she's clawing at the bed and sometimes at him—is what gets Leon excited. The way she can't even say anything remotely coherent to the man gets him so hard, it fucking hurts. Leon's boxers are practically stuck to his cock.

Leon's hand drifts towards his groin, shifting it so it doesn't press against the zipper of his jeans. He lets out a soft hiss, putting a hand to his mouth as he slumps back against the wooden chair. Leaning onto the left armrest.

Your ears pick up on Leon's strained noise, and you pull your knees up to your chest, breathing heavily between them. It's almost over, you think to yourself. Just a couple more minutes, and we can do something else. Forget about this, and maybe read the Bible to cleanse our minds.

The guy on the screen pulls her up so her back is flushed against his chest, his arm wrapped around her throat to keep her there. Her body is shaking uncontrollably, and he groans deeply, thrusting a couple more times before he comes to a halt.

"Fuck, baby girl, fuck. Take it. Mmhh, I want to get you pregnant so bad. Gonna suck on those fat tits until they're squirting milk into my mouth. I'm gonna love seeing you so swollen and full of my seed. God damn."

That's it. He pulls out of her, and you can vaguely see a white liquid pooling out of her and onto the bed. Her body is so red and bruised. It makes you take a deep breath.

By clicking out of it, you eject the disk and put it on the desk. Quickly shutting down his PC.

Both of you sit there in silence for a little while. Afraid to look at one another.

The air is so thick and hot, as if someone turned a heater on. It would make sense, as both of you have red faces and sweaty palms.

Leon's the first one to clear his throat and shift in his seat. "So, um. What did we watch?"

"For heavens sake, we just watched two people make love, Leon!" You whisper-yell at him, looking directly into his eyes.

He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth and looks to the side, clearly embarrassed. "Right."

You get up and flop onto his bed, face first. The coolness of his sheets is washing over you like an ice pack.

Leon sits next to you, practically burning his gaze on your thighs. Lost in thought of the possibility of doing something like what you both saw just mere moments ago. His hips are bucking upwards, seeking relief. Looking like a damn fool for humping the air.

"Do you think that felt good? Would God like...allow them to seek pleasure like that?" You mumble into the bed.

"I think so, but I don't know if God would be happy if they were to continue..without repenting for their sins and asking for forgiveness."

Yeah, you figured he would respond like that.

"I feel gross, Leon."

"Me too."

You turn on your side and look him up and down slowly. "Are you... aroused?"

Leon gulps and tilts down to meet your gaze with a small nod.

"Me too." Your voice is soft and hushed. Rubbing your thighs together for some relief.

At this point, you don't even care. God this. God that. Those women at the church don't seem to care when they get pregnant. They just pray and repent for their sins and move on with their day like nothing happened. So, God doesn't fucking care if you have intercourse or not. So long as you ask for forgiveness.

His baby blues drop to your lips and back up, licking his own lips. Then, he leans down and boxes you between his firm body and the plush bed.

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel him tremble above you. Heart thumping wildly in your ears, wondering if he can hear it too.

Unconsciously, your legs spread open to accommodate his hips. He shifts his weight nervously, his groin settling on top of yours.

Both of you moan and buck your hips towards one another, wanting more. Becoming insatiable beasts filled only with lust and need. Logic? God? Who needs that when you have horniness on the brain?

Leon groans and buries his face in your neck, panting hotly against your skin as he begins to dry hump you. "Please... It-It hurts. I'm sorry." He stops himself from rambling on, nosing up to your earlobe.

"Leon, it feels really good. Don't—don't stop, please."

His hips stutter, and he lets out a soft whimper, touching his forehead to yours. "May I... may I do what the video showed, to you?"

"Yes," you say as you connect your lips to his, tangling your hands into his thick locks of brown hair. Lightly pulling on it, earning you a groan into your mouth and a thrust against your clothed mound.

Tongues uniting sloppily, moans spewing out, and desire floating in the air. A perfect recipe for disaster.

He sits up on his knees, his eyes blown out, his lips red and glossy with spit. How can he get even prettier? It's not fair. It really isn't. God really gave him the best of the best, honestly.

Leon quickly made work of his button-up, throwing it across the room. His wife beater is the only article of clothing shielding you from seeing his chest and abdomen. What a shame. Though you do see a small silver chain, most likely it is his cross that he always wears, no matter what.

Breathing out of his mouth like his nose is fucking clogged, he hesitantly reaches up to the hem of your dress. "May I?" He whispers, pushing it up to where your shorts stop at your waist.

You nod, your hips lifting up to help him get rid of your dress. It soon hits the floor next to his shirt. Immediately feeling embarrassed, you cover your black bra with your hands.

Leon just stares in awe, his hands slowly trailing up your sides and tracing every contour and bend in your body.

"So beautiful," he mumbles. His thumb feels nice and is also ticklish where the sun doesn't see your body. He carefully removes your arms away from your bosom, kissing the inner parts of your wrists and making eye contact with you for the entirety of this undressing.

You gasp as he kisses down to your clavicles, making sure to take his time mapping out your figure with his lips now. Dipping down to your cleavage, his hands grab ahold of your waist, thumbs rubbing against the wire of your bra.

Leon presses his lips across your entire chest, making your skin buzz and your soul leave your body.

Never in your life would you have imagined Leon doing this to you in his own bed.

He fumbles with pulling your cups down, trying to get rid of the bra. "Can you, um.. take this off?"

You lean forward and unclip it, letting it fall forward into your lap. Getting your arms out of the straps, you are now topless in front of him. Topless in front of someone for the first time ever.

God is getting ready to punish the both of you for sinning, and you know it. Closing your eyes tightly for a few moments as you try to battle with continuing or just leaving Leon to deal with his own battle. That would be just mean. And if you were going to sin, why not together?

Gulping down the acid that clawed its way up your pipes once more, you shake off the guilt as much as you can. Opening your eyes, you see Leon getting closer to your chest. Ready to plant his love on them.

He slowly kisses around your areolas, nosing his way from breast to breast. You let out a nervous giggle as he makes eye contact with you as best he can.

Finally making contact with your nipples, he dips his tongue out and swirls around it. Pulling away with a soft 'pop', you card your fingers through his hair.

"Did that feel good?"

"Yeah, it felt really nice." You give him a shy smile, and he returns it.

Leon does the same to the other one before leaning back and admiring you once more. "You are honestly beautiful."

Covering your face with your arms, you push him with your knee, mumbling an embarrassed "thank you." You still have your manners, even for being the devil's best friend.

Some shuffling, and you peek through your arms and see he's taking off his white wife beater. You bite your lip and shift to your haunches, running your hands up his abdomen. Mesmerized by the way his muscles tense under your fingertips, dipping down to a small patch of hair trailing down beneath his jeans.

Smiling up at him, you wish to return the favor. Putting your lips near the belt of his pants, kissing each of his hip bones softly. His body twitches towards you, and he lets out a broken moan, putting his hands on your shoulders. You decide to be experimental and graze your teeth all the way up his stomach, stopping at his chest. Leon's sounds are going straight down south; you'll be surprised if your shorts aren't completely wet by now too.

"Can I?" You grab ahold of the button on his jeans, toying with it. Asking him for permission to undress him as well. He shakes his head, yes, and you immediately start undoing his fly. With a soft gasp, you see his bulge with a wet spot near the tip, staining his dark blue boxers. You continue to tug his pants down to his thighs so he can do the rest himself.

Leon's pants join the rest of your clothes on the floor. You shimmy your shorts and tights off. Both of you dressed in your undergarments.

You lay back, eyes on his cross necklace, hoping that God will accept you both as you are after this experience. Making love before marriage isn't acceptable, and you've been told your bodies are sacred temples and to not let anyone in or touch you inappropriately. Both of you would be shunned, and God knows what else would happen.

Leon begins to kiss his way down to your ankles and back up between your thighs. Slowly breathing in the scent of you. Pressing a few on your clothed mound, making you squirm, your thighs daring to close on his head. He gently pushes them away and up as he leaves little love bites where your legs connect to your most sacred spot.

Moaning softly, you cover your mouth. Your eyes dare to roll back into your head as you try and watch Leon explore your features before he removes the last article of clothing, keeping him away from seeing you completely bare. He moans into your panties, kitten-licking to taste your arousal. He is doing his best to try and copy the video from earlier.

"Please, Leon.." you whine, your hips pushing against his face, aching for more.

Leon nods his head and nuzzles against you, his nose stimulating you even further. He pulls away to remove your panties to dive back in.

Getting messy with it, he drools onto your folds, pressing open-mouth kisses all over. Paying attention to where you moan and squirm the most.

He dips his tongue down into your pulsating hole and groans, his eyes rolling back at the taste of you. "Tastes s'good, baby," he continues to ravage your poor, sensitive pussy, iron grip, keeping your thighs open.

You squeak and grab ahold of his hair, trying to push him away as you feel an unfamiliar warmth spread throughout your body. "Leon! Wait, wait, I-I—"

Leon moves his mouth up to your little pearl and begins to suck and nibble on it. That's what truly sends you over the edge.

Back bowing, legs shaking, head thrown back with your mouth open in a silent scream. You can't even feel your lower half; pins and needles are crawling down your legs and into your feet. You're sure your legs snapped shut on his head, as you feel him so much more now.

Soon you come back into reality with Leon hovering over you, his dick freed from its prison, poking your thigh. "You okay? Did that feel good, my love?" It's so sweet how he's checking in with you after giving you the best time of your life!

"Y-Yeah," you breathe out heavily, pulling him closer by his silver cross. Toying with it between your fingertips. "That felt amazing. Thank you."

Giving him a soft, sensual kiss. Tasting a bitter liquid on his lips. He chases you as soon as you part, dipping his tongue between your lips and asking for more. You oblige, and his thick muscle is invading your cavern, touching each tooth and swirling around your own tongue. It's turning hot and heavy as he presses his hips into yours, putting weight on you.

He starts humping your leg, his cock pulsating and leaking transparent sticky fluids on your skin. He is moaning and panting into your mouth as he cups your breasts. Slowly pulling away as he takes you in once more, completely infatuated with you, it seems. And it also seems the feeling is reciprocated by yours truly.

"Can I put it in, please?" Leon grabs ahold of his dick and clumsily strokes it over your cunt. His body is stuttering forward, and his grip on your breast is tightening just slightly.

Biting your swollen bottom lip, you nod slowly. Bracing yourself for the intrusion down there. It doesn't even look like he'll fit inside of you; you're afraid he's going to somehow rip you apart down there. But you push down the fear with a shaky sigh.

"Just, um.. let me know if it hurts," he swipes through your folds a few times before sinking into you gradually.

Your body tenses up, and you grab hold of his hand, squeezing it as you let out high pitched breathy whimpers. Squeezing your eyes shut as you try to get used to his size. You can't believe he's taking your virginity.

"W-wait, stop, stop, please... It hurts." You feel tears forming in your eyes, and Leon immediately halts.

Pressing chaste kisses to your eyes and one on your lips, his body bucks forward. With a groan, he murmurs, "God damn. I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, baby."

Your pussy flutters around his length, and you breathe in and out, getting used to him. Canting your hips up to get more of him on your terms, you roll your hips with a gasp and say, "Leon."

He takes that as a sign to push more of himself into you, filling you to the brim. Shifting to lay down on his forearms, next to your head, you wrap your legs around his waist. Your nails dig lightly into his back, eliciting a low growl from him as he tries to calm himself down. Too aroused with the feeling of you wrapped around his shaft so tightly that he can't even begin to think properly.

Taking a quick breather so that he doesn't accidentally fall on top of you. Lazily humping against you, stimulating your clitoral area while being so goddamn full of him.

"Baby, god," Leon starts to clumsily push in and out of your sopping heat. Barely even disconnecting himself from you. If anything, he doesn't ever want to pull out of you. You feel too good; it would greatly upset him to stop now.

It feels so intimate as he continues to hold your hand, sloppily kissing you as his dick slowly penetrates you deeper and deeper. Swallowing each other's noises, afraid of getting caught by his parents, is always lingering in the back of your mind.

"Mmnn, you're so tight, it's hard to move." Leon drops his forehead onto yours, staring at you intensely. His eyes are soft yet lustful, carrying love in them, you see.

Maybe you just hope that he loves you because you've loved him all your life. Having known him since you were 4 and he was 6, you couldn't have asked for anyone else to take your virginity but him. Even though he's the pastor's son.

"I love you," you can't help but blurt out. Biting your lip as he speeds up his movements for a few thrusts before going back to his lazy ones.

"You mean it?" He pants heavily into your mouth, feeling you nod your head against his. "I love you too. God, I really, really do. I promise, baby."

With those heartfelt (sort of) confessions, he begins to pick up his pace.

Growling softly when you clench around him or make squeaky noises that can't be discerned by a whimper or a moan. He loves you and all your little noises. The freckles that paint your body. The way your body curves and your stretch marks—everything about you is so gorgeous to him. He wouldn't want to do this with anyone else. He's tried giving you signs and hints that he wants to be your boyfriend, but he is always too scared to say it outright. But now he's glad about how things turned out. Including giving you his virginity.

You claw at his chest, grabbing ahold of his necklace as he fucks you harder. Looking down at his member, you see a white ring around his base. Throwing your head back into his pillows, you feel another orgasm creeping up your body.

"I'm gonna—it's gonna happen again, Leon, mmphh," you whine out as your legs try to close up, only to be blocked by his body.

Leon lets out a pained whimper, and then all of a sudden he grips onto your hair and starts to gently bite under your jawline next to your earlobe. It's syrupy and slow this time; your mind goes fuzzy and blank. No thoughts, just Leon. And his manhood bumps into your cervix.

"Please, let me... inside—can I?" His words are all jumbled up, and you can't help but say yes.

He speeds up even more, which seems impossible, but it really isn't. It has your chest bouncing with each thrust, and soft cries are leaving your lips. He keeps on holding onto your hair and hand, bringing your face up to meet him halfway to make out with you. Drooling into your mouth and his eyes rolling into the back of his head. With each thrust, his necklace bumps into your neck.

Hips stuttering into yours, he almost collapses onto your figure. Threatening to bury you into his mattress as he lazily thrusts a couple more times.

A hot liquid squirts into your womb, and Leon lets out a strained moan, dropping his head into your neck. Slowly letting go of your hair and letting your scalp relax after such harsh treatment. Your cunt clenches around him tightly.

His hips continue to jerk into yours, almost making sure his cum stays inside of you. It's like his body already knows what to do after watching one video of people making love.

Leon presses soft kisses up to your temple before getting off of you. Shifting back to his haunches, he hesitantly pulls out of your hole. Watching your cunt flutter around nothing, his seed slowly drips out of your hole. His dick jumps, hitting his toned stomach, almost ready to jump back into action for round two.

"Baby, just so beautiful. I love you."

You can't help but giggle at that, making more of the sticky white liquid squirt out of your hole and onto his sheets. He quickly notices that and grabs a few tissues to wipe it off, leaving you and himself clean.

"I love you too, pretty boy," you sigh deeply, truly enamored with the way Leon just is. He's so sweet without even trying.

You go to sit up and grab your undergarments, but your legs are too shaky to even stand up, and you almost fall over. Leon maneuvers you back onto his bed and fetches it all for you. Getting himself dressed as well.

Hell, maybe it wasn't so bad to become a sinner. It was definitely a heavenly sin, that's for sure.

You two stare at each other, lips swollen red, eyes swallowed by the black and flushed pink faces. Your hands interlocked as you slowly began to kiss. But this time, it's much sweeter and softer. No rush to feel skin on skin; just relaxing in the now.

"What're we going to do?" Mumbling into the kiss, you pull away.

"What do you mean?"

"You.. you did it inside of me. What if I get pregnant? I can't be a mother right now, Leon," you frown, looking down at your stomach.

"I'll figure it out, okay? And—And if you do end up carrying my child, I'll be there. I'm not just going to leave you."

And with that, your worries washed away, nodding alongside his words as if they were God's words. In a way, he is God to you. Constantly saving you, bettering you, loving you unconditionally, and listening to you. You'd get on your knees any day for Leon. He'd just have to say the word, and you'd do it.

"Was I too rough? Are you hurt anywhere?" He presses a few chaste kisses on your forehead and temple.

"No, but I am hurting... down there. It feels a little sore. But everything else is fine." You give him a thumbs-up with a goofy grin. He returns the silly smile, nuzzling your jawline.

"I can see if there's any ibuprofen; I'll be right back, okay?"

Shortly, he returns with two pills and sets them in your palm, bringing your water over to you. You take them with a gulp of water.

"I think I've got to use the restroom as well. I'll be back." You let out a breath and walked into the bathroom across the hall. Doing your business, flushing, and then washing your hands before returning back to him.

Joining him on his bed, under the covers, to snuggle up close to him.

"You're so warm. I love it."

"I'm glad you do, sweetheart."

You both end up talking for a few more hours about work, your friends, hobbies, and, lastly, how long you've liked one another.

"Wait, wait, wait," you giggle and lay on your elbows, resting your head in your palm. "You've liked me ever since elementary school? Why haven't you told me?"

"I tried. I tried giving you hints; I even brought you a flower that one time, remember? And, like, I always let you borrow my shirts and sweaters. I thought that was enough, and you saw that, and, uh, just didn't like me back." Leon rolls his eyes and pulls you into his arms. Attacking you with kisses on your ear and behind it.

You squeal and squirm in his grasp, letting out a breathy, "Okay, okay! I see it now!"

"What about you?"

"Since middle school. Remember the time on Valentine's Day when I gave you like all my candies? And then, when we did bingo at church, I gave you my prize and said I didn't want it. Yeah, well... I wanted it, but I gave it to you instead."

"So cute. I love you, baby bug," he mumbles into your neck.

"I love you too, handsome," you answer into his shoulder.

It is safe to say that you both fell asleep holding onto each other. With smiles on your faces. You both are dreaming of the day that you both get married and have the whole white picket fence, dog, children, and everything in between.

You'd risk your relationship with God again if it meant that you'd be with Leon forever.

He would absolutely risk being called a devil's spawn if it meant that he'd get to be your lover forever.

Maybe God would forgive you if you decided to sin again and again. As long as you are happy, it doesn't matter what happens. If and only if, you have Leon, the pastor's son, in your arms, everything will be alright.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #pastors son!leon #leon smut #leon kennedy smut #re2 leon #localkiss

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moonlit-imagines · 8 months ago

Text

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s child

Tony Stark x child!reader

warnings: alcohol ment,

a/n: so i just really think that the concept of tony having the party kid as opposed to nerdy avenger kid would be a really cool idea to explore teehee. most of this does actually take place pre-avengers tho!!

prompt:

you we’re quite the exhausting kid

“is this really how it felt to raise me?” -tony

many of nights he’d find your bed empty, you’d snuck out to go have your fun as teenagers do

“yeah, boss, i imagine it was” -happy

you always showed back up in one piece (like him) and besides a little slap on the wrist you didn’t get much discipline

actually, it usually went like:

“so, where did you go off to last night?” -tony

“a party” -you

“really? didn’t want to loop me in before you snuck out…again?”

“last time i told you about a party you showed up!”

“uh—yeah, but it’s not like i went all dad on you and dragged you away or anything”

“yeah, you joined the party and offered to buy teenagers more booze”

“hey, they all loved you after that! and they couldn’t get enough of my classic dance moves” -tony, jokingly doing the sprinkler with one arm “but seriously, let me know next time”

“we’ll see about that” -you

^the above conversion went about the same every time

sometimes for entertainment purposes you’d try a little harder, throw a few pillows under the covers to make it look like you were still home to put a smile on tony’s face

“aw, y/n reminds me so much of me” -tony

tony was still partying at this point so you’d flip the script on him from time to time

“you were out late” -you

“what are you, a cop? leave me alone. actually, can you get me some aspirin and water?” -tony

“sure, one or two” -you

“make it three” -tony

he would nurse your occasional hangovers (what a great dad!)

okay, he didn’t always know when you were gone. he was busy a lot of the time with his own business and extracurriculars so you guys did just kinda do your own thing for certain stretches of time

honestly you could be a bit of a klepto in the best of ways

but only to tony and only for fun

“oh, great, where’s my car?” -tony

“which one?” -pepper

“the black one!” -tony

“be more specific” -pepper

“the only one missing from my garage!” -tony

“yeah, i know, just wanted to give you some more time to think about it” -pepper

“i changed the code on the lockbox like, five times this week. did they hotwire it?” -tony

“we are talking about your kid, right? pretty sure they just hacked it” -pepper

“i am…so proud” -tony

you MAY have gotten a few close calls with authorities, but nothing tony couldn’t handle

and up until tony’s accident, the phrase “you’re going to give me a heart attack” was silly and endearing

“you might actually give me a heart attack, y/n, give a guy some warning or just say please for god’s sake” -tony, now comes with an arc reactor in his chest

“sorry” -you

“what—huh—didn’t hear ya, wanna say that a little louder?” -tony, very sarcastically

i tell ya when he got that armor u couldn’t tell if u were gonna flip out at him or invite him to a party

or steal it for…you didn’t even know what

but tony was 3 steps ahead of you when all this came to be

and you weren’t very interested in weapons, still just parties and dumb fun for you

“dad, i dont wanna be a nerd, will you just let me go out?” -you

“come on! just help me in the lab a few hours, what’s it gonna hurt?” -tony

“my social status” -you

“might i remind you you’re a stark? i think you’ll live if you miss one party” -tony

“you’d be surprised” -you

“hey, i almost died! give your old man a break” -tony

once tony got involved with SHIELD and the avengers he got even busier really

and in came the parenting advice from fury, clint, nat, steve

“hey, i don’t see you raising a teenager, back off” -tony

*clint side eye*

steve once tried to give you a good talking to, but you reminded him a great bit of your father with your stubbornness

“you done? i dont think you should be giving out any parenting tips fresh off the ice” -you

tony was kind of proud of you for sticking to your guns

especially around such powerful people

but you had a knack for that and could do it to practically anyone

mostly because you felt like an invincible teenager since you were raised by tony, who also thought himself an invincible teenager at one point

u tried to tone down giving tony grief when he started having panic attacks

since u accidentally caused a few by pushing boundaries and staying out for several nights in a row

cuz as tony gained more enemies, he thought you’d be in more danger

which was true

“happy, you’re y/n’s personal bodyguard” -tony

“no!” -you

“uh, cool? any fun parties planned tonight? i’ll be the designated driver. god knows i’ve been tony’s too many times” -happy

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

#tony stark imagine #tony stark x reader #tony stark #tony stark x child!reader #tony stark x son!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #stark!reader #iron dad #iron man x reader #iron man #iron man imagine #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #avengers #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 4 months ago

Note

please please please something w jealous / possessive jax

answering as a blurb because I think we all need this on a saturday night in november. smut warning obvs

“Do I not give you enough attention, pretty girl?”

All you can do is whine in response, eyes rolling back in your head as his hips slam into yours.

He had you bent over the kitchen counter the minute the two of you got home, wasting no time ripping your panties down your legs and folding you in half the way he wanted.

“Is that why you kept looking at Chibs? Hmm? You think he can give you something that I can’t?”

You try to shake your head, but a particularly sharp thrust sends you careening forwards. You’re convinced you’d fly over the countertop if it wasn’t for Jax’s bruising grip on your hips.

“You’re mine,” he grits out, mouthing at the spot underneath your ear. “Mine, you hear me?”

Your knees buckle as you grapple for leverage, your boyfriend’s hips the only thing keeping you upright. Your breath is coming out in short, sharp pants, lungs burning as you try to process the intensity of the moment.

“Say it.”

“J-Jax, baby- fuck- huh?”

“Tell me you’re mine. Say it. Now.”

Jax wraps a huge hand around your throat, plastering your back to his front as he hits a spot inside of you that makes you weak.

“I’m yours,” you manage to breathe out. “All yours, Jax.”

“Gonna make sure you don’t forget it. Make sure everyone else knows it too. You’re not gonna be able to walk for a week, darlin’. And you’re gonna wear these bruises all pretty, yeah? Just in case there was any fuckin’ doubt about who you belong to.”

You see stars when you come, legs shaking and sweat dripping down your back. Jax sinks his teeth into your shoulder when he finds his release, marking you up for good measure.

“How the fuck am I supposed to cover up a bite mark, Jax?”

“You’re not,” he murmurs, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “That’s the point.”

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sukunas-wife · 1 year ago

Text

Baby Yuji who clings and cries to you when your helpers try to take him away because someone with such a high reputation to hold shouldn’t be seen with a babe latched onto their breast

His little cries that make your heart ache outside his nursery door. Barging in and picking up your baby boo and cooing at him as he instantly stops crying his little fish taking a death tight grip to your shirt asking for you never let him go.

Baby Yuji who gets mushed instantly as your enter your private chambers because Sukuna was ready for a second child only to be stopped when he heard his sons muffled cries against his own bare chest.

Sukuna who sighs carrying his baby boy using his reverse cursed technique to heal him of any squish damage. Cradling him against his chest in he massive arms. Squeezing his yawning sons cheeks between his hand just for his son to take a tight hold on his finger. The way Sukuna laughs proudly at how his son was so strong for someone so small

The smug look when you try to take Yuji away from Sukuna only for Yuji to cry and cling to his daddy

Your little pout as Baby Yuji sleeps on his daddy’s chest secured by his arms and you held against your husbands side with his free arm

Toddler Yuji who’s first word isn’t mama or papa but “koo… kooo kooOUuna…” you look confused turning to your husband with a raised brow “whose Kouna?” “It’s KUNA woman! As in SuKUNA,” he crossed his arms against his chest smug smirk, “We can see who the preferred is.” You puffed your cheeks “Ryomen Sukuna i have half a never to- Koona!” You turned to your son picking him up “little traitor”

Toddler Yuji who no matter where he is, he’s not afraid to walk, he knows his mom and dad will be right there to catch him and pick him up to try again

The time Yuji was across the massive palace room, you were watching him sit and play. Sukuna was lounged out in front of the sunny window after a bath trying to relax. Never had he felt the instinct that forced him up and over, catching his son just before he toppled over into the floor. His speed was scary and accurate turning to you as you were just behind him.

Little Yuji who yells in delight when you throw him up in the air to catch him again kissing his cheeks, is the same Yuji who screams when his dad hurls him into the air only to fall back against his dad clinging for life against his dads rumbling chest. He dad laughing out loud before Yuji is screaming “again again!”

The heart attacks you’ve had watching these things happen just for Uraume to assure nothing bad will fall upon the heir

The cute moments when you and Sukuna take Yuji’s small chubby hands while walking and picking him up and swinging him every third step. His little smile and laughs as he looks up at both of you, your smile as you look at Sukuna, that rare soft smile and look in his eyes that remind you why you fell for him. Proving he’s not the cruel tyrant others have him to be.

Sukuna who threatens the best artist in the village to create an oil painting of you, your husband and Yuji with every birthday that passes because even though he won’t express how much he enjoys these moments, he’s afraid of time slipping through his fingers

#sukuna ryomen #jjk anime #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #daddy sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna thirst #sukuna x wife reader #yuji and mom reader #yuji x mom reader #son yuji

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shortnsweetsposts · 4 months ago

Text

Bat!reader, calling Bruce: Come on, pick up pick up pick up...

*Bruce answered the phone*

Bat!reader: Hiiii, love you so much! Can I have 25000 dollars?

Bruce: NO?!? Why on earth do you need 25000 dollars?

Bat!reader: Oh, you know... For an escape room...?

Bruce: You're joking right? What kind of escape room costs 25000 DOLLARS??

Bat!reader: Prison...

Bruce: I'll be there at 10, idiot.

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nosyrobin · 5 months ago

Text

Twin!Reader: Dami?

Damian: Yes my favorite sibling in the whole wide world?

Twin!reader: I would like to gift you a drawing I made of you….

(Twin!reader hands over drawing with a nervous look since they started to draw because of Damian. The drawing is a terrible one but not to Damian’s eyes)

Damian who actually starts to tear up: Thank you….it’s beautiful…

Years later!

Twin!reader: Huh?

(Twin!reader picks up a piece of paper that was left on the floor)

Twin!reader: (gasp) DAMIAN! You kept my terrible art work!

Damian from afar: ITS BEAUTIFUL!

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gangplanksorenji · 9 days ago

Text

Step One: Be Fair at All Times.

Pairing: TWICE’s Chaeyoung x Male Reader

Word Count: 5,027

A/N: Hello Orenjideul! This was a quick fic extension from the prompt exercise @mintwithchoco gave us! Thank you for another exciting prompt and it was really fun writing these kinds of stuff! Anyways, enjoy reading!

--------------------------------------

There it goes, the devil within you tempting you and it’s only a matter of time before you give in.

The ebullient sounds of students roar around the classroom and beyond, as always, and it’s a natural phenomenon to even cause trouble somewhere near to where you are at. You can hear someone trying to separate them yet it seems like they’re failing, and nonetheless, you wouldn’t care less.

That’s you, evidently distracted as the miniscule resonance of sounds piques you as you blankly stare at the void of the paper that will define your future in this subject. It’s only a matter of time before the clock reaches zero, and you still can’t figure out why you can’t think of what can be the answer to such a simple question.

Final exam, final day, the final reckoning. The suffering is nearing its demise, but it seems to extend whenever you circulate around that damn question, and it’s just going to get worse.

You’ve cheated swiftly for god knows how many times and you’ve done it in times of desperation. Trying to cover it up with a hand up on your forehead just to look at what the girl beside you may answer—

“Letter ‘B’, huh? Seems right?” Your devilish eyes scout the prey like an eagle, capturing it and rewarding yourself with the possible fruit of your sinful labor. It pretty much makes sense, mostly complacent knowing you’ve caught the answer from one of the brightest minds this class has ever known.

You circle your answer as the clock nears its end, just with two minutes left. You feel pressured, knowing there’s three more left two answers with such little time left. All of your classmates traverse their way onto the professor’s desk and slamming the test paper there, somewhat confident and increasingly anxious.

And you, huh, stuck with the hindrance that can defy expectations.

The sound of people sharing answers and conversations distracts you, always tempted to eavesdrop with the possible answers but you miserably fail. Time is running out and you’re just the only one left in your column to be answering and with the mindset of absolute indecisiveness, you let your gut feeling break the trance and answer for yourself.

Done—three questions, three letters answered.

You fidget the hem of your shirt as your friend just outside the classroom gets your attention, gesturing to quickly go with them once you’ve passed the papers. You placed yours on top of the stack of papers that you’re unnerved to see until a force stops you from advancing further and out of the classroom. You look back and fuck, it’s Ms. Son, an eyebrow raised, her hand gripping onto the hem of your jacket.

“Go beside me, we’ll have a talk once everyone is out.”

And there your future goes, possibly reduced to atoms as your gamble didn’t save you further, and your fate has succumbed onto an unfavorable one.

Knowing you’re not going to get out soon, your friends look over at you with a face teasing you and laughs reverberating around them, as you look at them with envy and disgust.

“Ma’am, what did I—”

“Just stay there.” Her tone is stern, composed like the finest as you gulp in nervousness, not knowing what her mouth has to offer later.

Oh—and your filthy mind is fucking you up with the possible thought about—

“Not now, not now.” Is what you whisper on yourself, and it’s even making it worse knowing how every action of your professor sends those lustful thoughts up in your filthy mind.

You’re just counting each person that passes by and submitting their papers, until the last student bowed to her and shutted the door carefully, leaving you and the professor alone, and you, utterly unsure on how things may unfold.

“Take a seat.”

“Wha—what—”

“I said, take a seat and we’ll have a talk.” The look that she gave you shoots up a nerve up in your spine, and it’s intimidating, possibly coerced with those doe eyes. Your eyes are uneasy, incredibly cautious as you anticipate what she can say to you. It didn’t take long before you swiftly traverse your way onto the nearest chair and grabbed it, and seating with emotions evident precarious.

Well, it’s in ways knowing how your professor possibly caught you in the scene of the crime, and you fathom the inevitable consequence that may come right after.

“Your bright mind might know why I called you so suddenly, am I right?” In all honesty, you’d assume it’s all about how your eyes dart to the paper of others, relentless and desperate. It was the only strong answer that you can mutter to her, but your lips pursue itself to be shutted, unable to talk with how she’s getting you in this disposition of anxiety.

Then you gathered the courage, yet it wasn’t enough to be truly vocal. “N-no, Ms. Son…”

“Sure you do.” Quite the privy, and she read you like a book. “Speak up.”

Your lips quiver, the damned hubris earlier instantly fell off into a cliff so easily. You’re definitely uneasy right now, all frozen as just wanting these things to end and learn your lesson. Your hands fidget onto your pants, as she inches herself closer and breaks you in that trance.

“You know, I’ve been watching you from the start when you took a seat in that chair. It became quite interesting considering the fact that what you’re displaying right now is clearly not what we are all used to.”

You gulped and stared at those dark orbs that emphasized that gravitas until day one, and it’s more evident with the point that she got you immobilized and that earns that subtle smirk curling up in the crevice of her lips. “And besides, you’re becoming too much of a problem, aren’t you aware of that?”

You grit your teeth not-to-harshly, lips continuously bearing the nervous state. “I am—I am p-pretty much aware of that, Ms. Son.”

Fuck, she is quick and it catches you off-guard—her hands tug on your tie, investing your utmost attention towards her and it just ignites her possibly sadistic disposition.

Then she clicks her tongue, and raises an eyebrow. “Are you?”

You nod, eventually getting frantic as she stops you, the tremble in your breath enough to make her reconsider her control and the ways of schooling you. She looks at you, eyes scanning your features which etches a question in your brain but quickly dismisses it. She’s close enough for you to smell that floral perfume that just intoxicates you into her even more.

You’ve never been this close to a girl like this, and you’ve probably hit the jackpot consider that you’re just inches away from a tempting action that you’d be too afraid to do, considering that you’re still daunted under her spell.

“I still can’t believe I can shut you up so easily like this.”

Then, she just pulled herself away from you gently, as she faces away from you, removing her glasses and tying up her hair with a dark-colored band which raises questions in your brain. It was out of the blue as your eyes are averted towards her and her only, then her voice heightened your senses even more.

“You’ve been a pain for the university, in case you didn’t know—multiple reports have been scattered all over our bulletin board, written with your name for god knows how many times and thinking to myself, if you’d be any better.” Her face is stern, eyes glued to your pupils ignited with disappointment and the possible anticipation, before shaking her head slowly and clicking her tongue to intimidate you. “Guess what? Probably you will. Considering the potential—your precarious self is finally showing its true colors, hm? Well, We would be doing something unorthodox.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, utterly confused at this point as you’re oblivious with what her true motives are. “W-what do you m-mean, Ms. Son?”

“Well, I need to ask you one thing first.” She then takes a seat, now face-to-face with you as you’re in all ears to listen despite the growing discomfort and awkwardness. “Do you want it the ‘straightforward’ one or ‘thoroughly explained’ one? Both end up in the same route.”

She is full of surprises, for what you can assume. Wanting things to end as soon as possible, you ended up choosing the former choice with a stutter, and that made her smile a little.

She’s a simple woman, and you’ll get what you’ve chosen.

“You, young man, would need to confess everything that you’ve done to besmirch your name in this institution while I—” She tugs onto your belt and the hem of your pants, earning a yelp from you as she continues her proposition. “—suck your cock, indulging in the pleasure while in the challenge of telling the truth while we are at it. That’s how straightforward it can get.”

Unbelievable. That’s what your mind concluded after hearing such words that you wouldn't have thought would come out of her mouth.

It doesn’t fucking matter if you’re going to register such explicit and unethical words as her voice freezes you another time, and it’s commanding. “Stay still and say everything on my command. If I’m satisfied, I may even let you cum and consider this as something confidential.”

Jesus. You never thought she could be like this, evidently ambiguous yet here you are, unable to do anything but comply.

“Get up and strip. All the way, pants down.” You’re eager to do what she tells you to, nervously unbuckling your belt as your uneasiness earns a chuckle escaping her lips. It was quick from you, not wanting your future on the brink of collapsing, even though it’s most likely diverting to that path.

Your cock springs into life, throbbing and invigorated, and that alone, sparks the interest from her eyes.

“Looks like your little friend here is dying for some action—did I really rile you up, hm?”

Son Chaeyoung and her choices of words are really something else, and it’s just bringing you down to your knees. Who would have thought that such a professor that looks so innocent and bubbly could be so intimidating and stern?

The duality drives you insane, moreso, the way her small, dainty fingers wrapping around your shaft, stroking it so leisurely that it makes you moan so sexily. Her modicum of patience is tested, and eventually, she’ll start the final nail of the coffin.

“Let’s start off with the tip of the iceberg, shall we?” She kneels down, abrupt with her movements as she spits onto your raging crown, lathering it with lubrication that can elevate on what’s about to happen. “Why’d you cheat, hm? You better tell me the truth.”

As you’re about to speak and look over the distance, you throbbed and moaned her name with the dismissal of honorifics, her lips quick to envelop itself on such an insatiable meal that she’s been deprived of, obviously.

“I w-was desperate t-to just, uhm—shit, oh—uh, just c-can’t think of the answers—god.”

Her bobs are consistent and moderate, her fingers massaging your base as she looks up with you, ejecting herself onto your cock with a big pop. “Tell me more, that can’t be the only reason you can come up, hm?”

You look down and admire her gradually messy façade, but then stand your ground knowing it’s the right answer. “But, Ms. Son—I a-am telling the truth—oh, shit.”

She continues to bob her head onto your shaft, skilfully impaling her throat with more than half of it, and makes one hell of a mess all around it. Her hands find their way onto your thighs, grasping it for some leverage as she wrings out the best bits of pleasure you’ve ever experienced in your entire life and adds up to the pleasure you’re experiencing.

“I j-just w-want to pass, that’s al—oh, fuck, really, Ms. So—god.” Her vibrations onto your shaft sends you in short circuits, even more with the ways she’ll hollow up her cheeks to prove a point and to diligently test your capabilities.

You weren’t taking it like what she’s possibly expecting, but it doesn’t matter—you’re fighting for what could be better here despite the challenge brought by her pleasurable mouth.

She’ll pull away from your cock, covered with her saliva and her face, getting messier that even turns you on even more. “Desperation? Wasn’t that in your vocabulary? Maybe you just wanted the fun of doing something that isn’t right, hm?”

At this point, it’s just throwing water at the ocean, because no matter how honest you can be, she’ll continue to make you cry in pleasure. Admit or not, she’s great at giving you head, possibly the best contender that gave you one and that definitely surprises you.

And you can’t think straight again to come up for a reason, as her head continues to deliver such gratification, evidently running those mascara tears on her cheeks and the lipstick that smudged onto the base of your shaft, considering how talented she is with her own limits.

She’d eventually gag, and you’d orchestrate another reason with the mix of a cry of her greatest product. You’d swim onto what her lips can offer, and you’re loving how great she blows you as the effects of anxiety fades away ever-so-quickly.

“God, that’s w-what I can j-just say—p-please, Ms. Son.”

She pulls away, and you’re throbbing relentlessly, precum spilling out and unshackled, signaling what may come closer to the promised land. “It wasn’t such a hard task, hm? Now, tell me everything you’ve done to earn yourself such a vice spot in the vicinity.”

Then, it can just spiral out of control there. You’re fighting for what you can and she’s determined to do absolutely everything to get what she wants, and you’ll give it to her, whatever it takes.

“E-Everything, Ms. Son?” She’s really testing you, revealing secrets no other ethical person should ever know but with her continuous bobs and her lazy stare towards you, seals the answer for such a rhetorical question. She didn’t even mine pulling out to let herself be clear, as actions speak louder than words, her hands gripping you tighter than usual as frantically gratifying you to satisfy her truly with your genuine answer.

Only if she knows the battle you have to go through to articulate thoughts in your head just for the urge to finish this mess of an interrogation even though it’s the natural human instinct to really indulge with such pleasure, no matter the time or place.

The struggle is stating the obvious, and that curls up a smile on her mouth between numerous frantic bobs as you whisper how good it feels, closing your eyes as the information your lips escape was reaching her wit’s end. Then she pulls, eyes darting and feels like could kill and she’s tantamount as before with the objective on why she’s doing this in the first place. “Why can’t you talk, hm? Am I making it too hard for you?”

You can’t lie, not when your heart is racing so fast that you can’t pull up a game that can possibly encourage her to believe your lies. She has the utmost authority, the unbreakable control that you wouldn’t dare break, because assessing this situation, you have everything to lose.

“Seems like you’re pretty scared, hm? All of that tough and hubristic side gone just because of my mouth—hah, it’s pretty surprising. I possibly thought you’d take me better, but it looks like this isn’t going to work so well for you, won’t it?” She’s right, goddamn right. She’s stroking you leisurely, not giving a care for what her hands can do to you as she looks, sighing in disappointment as she continues. “Look at you, all groaning and an utter mess, dying to cum—you’re going to cum, aren’t you?”

She got you into this pliant disposition, biting your lips repeatedly as the pleasure is getting too much, even if it’s just her fingers alone. You’re nodding evidently, desperate for this to be over but then you’re pretty hypocritical if you’ll deny how great she offers you pleasure.

You’re begging and she chuckles lightly with the despair and pleasure distorting your face. “Too bad you still can’t release everything yet—you still have to answer my question.”

She lets your length throb uncontrollably in the air, the poor twitching of it as it needs someone to aid it is just a sight of her own pleasure. She’s keeping her promise, words sealed and etched, and knowing you want to cum to her so badly, you’d gather up the mental drive to confess everything to your heart’s content.

“Now, speak.” She indulges down hungrily and god, you’re figuratively on your knees as her mouth is your kryptonite.

You’re doing your best, and you’d do whatever it takes to end this up on a good note, even if it takes both your names to be besmirched, and hers with a more weighted punishment.

The sudden, lazy bobs helps you to think more clearly, and that alone is a sigh of relief. “W-we have taken a video, a h-humiliation just for fun—oh shit…”

That possibly piqued her, pulling out and looking up with that ruined countenance that you’re dying to cum onto. “We possibly came around that case, go on, don’t keep me waiting.”

“We just f-felt like it—we had some issues—oh god, uhm—l-like back then—shit.” It was a true struggle to fight it, you’d eventually give in as her head pumps onto your cock vigorously with the words you’ve said, earning more moans that just amplifies the experience. You’re possibly adapting to her patterns and the pleasure that she brings on your shaft, a scrutiny with evident efforts from you to possibly know whenever she’s satisfied or not. You still need more information to come up with reasonable conclusions, yet it’s a challenge considering the gratification that’s the bottleneck of this hypothesis.

Screw the science behind this stuff or whatever articulative, because you’re just moaning uncontrollably with faint begs that you didn’t even know your mouth could utter.

“We’re getting somewhere, huh? What issues? Anf why do it within the premises? Care to elaborate?” It’s her stare, that damn, sullied stare that’s remarkable and etched within the deepest parts of your brain, even so, making you twitch evidently that made her smile devilishly. She’d deliver such feverish then sluggish strokes that make your thighs shudder, precarious to just indulge and swim into the pleasure, yet her hands are the only one preventing the possibility of tearing down such robust architecture.

You’re trying to speak up yet you struggle, and she assures you equivocally, even though you’d know how this can end in both ways.

“Come on, you can do it—it’s just my hands.” She continues and you’re groaning in need, even tempting to grab those blonde locks just for leverage. “Elaborate.”

It’s another cycle of agonizing pleasure, and you wholeheartedly acquiesced it—the lingering anxiety of being caught and what can destroy your image is what is keeping you away to dismiss such pleasure, and it feels wrong received something sinful with one of the most respected professors in the university.

You have a strong claim whenever things go downhill—she initiated this in the first place.

You can feel yourself getting nearer and even if she tells you not to, you feel like the d in you will break loose once she continuously pumps her head onto your ruined length. You struggle to provide details, as the play within the temperature of her warm mouth and breeze of the air conditioner really adds on riling you up, and it’s not helping whenever you look down with such a sullied visage of hers—chin dripping with her own saliva, face ruined with her makeup and tears, her necktie drenched with her drool and most of all, those unholy set of bobs that could milk the living reservoir your balls can hold.

You try your best but then you can’t take it anymore and she knows it, evident with the way your cock throbs and your plethora of pleas.

It’s coming until she pulls out again for the umpteenth time, and the climax that was supposed to hit an all-time high dies down, depositing such miniscule amounts of cum that you pray for her to be oblivious about.

“Fuck—s-shit, Ms. Son.”

She analyzes your shaft like she’s thoroughly checking test papers—eyes darting on every inch, hands inspecting and possibly admiring such a wonderful and delectable sight. “Looks like you came a little. Don’t worry, I know you can’t hold it anymore but you know that right from the start that I never break promises.”

“But, Ms. Son—”

“I said what I said.” Her fingers trace and tease your thighs, and it sends shivers with you. You know she’s just going to edge you and hinder your euphoric high when your answers are not in her favor. Again, you can’t play any games against her and not when she’s controlling you like a puppet. “Whenever I’m satisfied with your answers, I’ll let you cum, and it’s going to be better than this.”

You know the key to achieve such euphoria, yet it barely registers within you to utter what can satisfy her for two reasons: the first one can be the cause of just the immense waves of pleasure just coursing within you that makes you think that everything that you’ve been saying is disparaged, as well as the effort of articulating them with honesty; and the last, possible reason could be the criteria that doesn’t really meet the standards, therefore, the prolonging effect of an ecstatic denial.

Or the worst part is just the fact that she’s doing this for the sadistic pleasure of hers—you name it, as anything can be possible at this moment.

“Care to also explain how you had something special with a student?” Her strokes are practically in a more of a massage, dearly pleasurable and soothes you, calming your nerves and fading that anxiety away. Even with all of these, her questions still hit like a truck, getting yourself to think about the ways to feed off her satisfaction while making yourself in a great position. “A classmate rather, in fact. Really putting it up to the test, hm?”

Her strokes suddenly become frantic, mustering a velocity that plays within the limit of her wrists, and the devilish look on those eyes of hers really concludes the fact that she’s possibly playing you know. You groan repeatedly, the sea of symphonies orchestrated to best fit her satisfaction with your struggles as you deserve it (honestly, you really do, considering the defamatory things you’ve done inside the premises).

You feel yourself shuddering and begging for her mercy inadvertently, and just laugh as her strokes maintain that pace like before. “No, no—tell me why the both of you did it inside the library out of all of the other places, hm? Possibly can’t hold it in?”

Now, it seals the deal that she’s just playing with you right now, a toy that can’t do anything but release the indulgence of her dexterous masterclass. It’s definitely equivocal, and right now, the answer can possibly be obvious but it’s a must to answer her correctly, if you really want your reward.

She stands up, looking up a little while she manages those pleasurable strokes, one and another, and you, eliciting a groan every three or two. “What about the unapologetic behavior towards your peers when playing basketball—gosh, that was a disappointment.”

That look on your face while she spills every defamatory act you’ve done says it all—frozen, eyebrows furrowed and your eyes permeated with fear and defeat. The apprehension lingers longer than before, yet it feels contradictory considering the pleasure she delivers with every stroke.

Then she speaks again, earning a shudder on your shoulder and your gaze locking into hers. “And the worst of them all—” She tilts her head a little, eyes scanning you from head to toe, and her lips curling up that hubristic smirk, subtly nodding right after. “—is that you can’t even talk properly when a professor’s hand is diligently stroking your dick—it’s pretty much a shame, no?”

You subtly nod as your lips quiver right after, a breath summing up a note which just explains the nervousness that is still within you. Her boldness still catches you off-guard, maintaining her composure even with the investment of such an act and her ruined face thanks to her.

“But I really appreciate you trying your best even with the fact that it’s incredibly hard to think straight. Am I right?” You utter a ‘yes’ and nodded, and that made her smile in satisfaction. “But since you’ve been compliant, I think it’s time to relieve your nerves a little.”

Those words would make you erupt at any second, as your reservoir is filling up quickly, accumulating and savoring the last bits of pleasure before the climax hits you like a truck. With the persistent throbs and begs coming out of your mouth, she wouldn’t be oblivious about how damn close you are.

Then she speaks, a command eager to ignite the fuse that’s been lit up since she started this mess. “Cum. Cum for me.”

Her words unlock something within you, and it’s the best of both worlds as you grab onto the blackboard, releasing everything with your heart’s content. Spurts erupted like a volcano, shooting multiple projectiles up in the air and landing on her hand, arm, and maybe even the floor with how thick the volume of your load is. She didn’t flinch nor faze with the amounts of cum that had been deposited and made sure that she wouldn’t be as messy as she was earlier. Albeit the composure, you could tell on those eyes that she loves how hot the scene is, gleaming in satisfaction in your orgasmic trance. You feel yourself extending more than what you can bear, her strokes evident to be the contributor to the gratifying element of her dexterous expertise.

“God—seems like you’ve not been blowing it for weeks, possibly months—god, there’s so much.” Her hands feel glued to your shaft, stroking your shaft fully with a leisure pace as she kneels down, then looking up to you with a possible action in mind to conclude this denouement.

She didn’t even dare to ask you, as she indulged into tasting you again, her lips meeting your sensitive head and her tongue dancing around the messy slit, cleaning you off. Once she feels like she's done what she can, those inviting licks on her fingers to tidy it up makes you lock your gaze onto hers, riling you up with how sensual her tongue dances around her fingers and tasting every bit of your cum, not wasting any drop.

“Gladly, your cum is enjoyable to even swallow—it tastes pretty good, possibly greater with the way I treated you.” She stands up modestly, fixing herself up as you’re still frozen on the spot, mind-boggled with what she had made you do. Then, her eyes dart that telepathic question, a confused expression of hers that is enough to break your trance and work onto dressing yourself up.

She was quick to apply makeup on herself and maintained that professional composure even with the sinful act the both of you had invested into. “Glad you’re cooperative with me—I even expected worse but I like the way you tried. Consider this as a start of an agreement that should be strictly clandestine except for the both of us.”

You paint that confused face, unsure of what your professor is implying. “W-what does this mean, Ms. Son?”

She stares onto you with such seriousness, and then grabbing your necktie and tiptoeing a little to whisper in your ear. “I’ll ensure that I’ll cover up your defamatory acts in these premises under one condition.”

You gulp, then tilt your head a little bit and ask. “What’s t-that, Ms. Son.”

“This cock—” She cupped the bulge onto the clothed fabric, making you shudder in response as well as your eyes lighting up in anticipation of her following words. “—is the condition. I need someone to vent out my stress sometimes, and I possibly found someone who can do a great job at it.”

Now that regains the confidence within you that was dead into the greatest depths earlier, curling up a faint smile up your lips.

“But for now, let’s get out of here before anyone suspects us.” And so the both of you did, deftly to check and clean everything, making sure that nothing around the vicinity can spark any suspicious marks.

This feels surreal, every event happening in such quick succession yet you will not complain, but rather thank the gods above that this is the reality.

---

As the both of you part ways like it’s just the wind breezing by, you notice a paper that’s been in your pocket for who knows how long, and it’s surely your professor’s fault. You’re quick to unfold and open it, only to reveal such a note that can defy the future of your academic path.

“Be at the front of the women’s bathroom at 6 pm. Third building, fourth floor. See you there, I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh god, this is real, is it?” You still can’t believe what’s happening, utterly perplexed with how she possibly orchestrated this mess yet everything is certainly bona fide.

Holy shit, what can possibly fuel this of yours? Did she intentionally call you earlier because she wanted you physically? Did she want more from you? Is this just a test and you’re being lured with one of her games?

No one knows and no one probably will, because you’re living in the reality that the respected Son Chaeyoung is now something more than just a professor. Guess you may have learnt your lesson in such an unorthodox way, but it’s probably going to elevate your experience here from now on, for what it's worth.

#twice smut #twice x male reader #chaeyoung smut #chaeyoung x male reader #son chaeyoung smut #son chaeyoung x male reader

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xxgoldie · 2 months ago

Text

happy little accidents

in which you accidentally send your nudes to lighter, and he definitely feels completely normal about it a/n: pls excuse the random letters that refuse to italicise, tumblr post editor hates me. notes: lighter x fem!reader (reader wears lingerie + one mention of boobs, otherwise pretty gn), mature (MDNI!!!), nudes (duh), mentions of rough sex, mentions of light bondage, kinda accidental voyeurism ig? wc: 1.1k

Y/N: [2 image attachments] what do you think?

A small smile makes its way onto Lighter's face when he saw your name pop up on his phone. Normally, he'd force it away - didn't exactly need people asking who had the Red Scarf grinning at his phone like that - but you'd caught him alone for once, resting on his bed after a long day. So he let himself smile, wondering what you'd sent him this time as he unlocked his phone - maybe pretty photos of the sky, or you were struggling to choose a drink at the convenience store, or you'd impulsively rearranged your room again. Corny as it was, it always made his heart skip a beat that it was him you thought of in those mundane little moments-

His heart skipped a different kind of beat when he opened your message.

Two mirror selfies, one facing forward, one in which you stretched to show your back. In both, you wore nothing but a gorgeous lingerie set, shocking red in lace and satin, a bra and panties and a sinful little garter belt...

In an instant, Lighter's thoughts were spiralling with questions and perverted fantasies. Why on earth were you sending him that? Not that he was complaining - he'd imagined you without your clothes more times than he cared to admit, and this was somehow better than any of his daydreams. Did Knock-Knock send screenshot notifications? Were these photos an invitation? A single word from you and he'd be there - he could fuck you right in front of that mirror, watch the bounce of your pretty ass and the way he'd make your eyes roll at the same time. A quick search told him that no, Knock-Knock didn't send screenshot notifications. Two clicks and the images were in his camera roll, quick future access to his personal slice of heaven. Shit, the red of that lingerie was basically the same shade as his scarf. Had you done that on purpose? You'd look so good in just that set and the scarf around your neck. Or he could tie it around your wrists, keep your hands attached to the bed as he pounded you into the mattress. Fuck, he should probably respond. What was he meant to say? Should he tell you what he was thinking about? That he was imagining taking you from behind, those crimson panties pulled to the side, no way he'd take them off when you'd dressed up so pretty for him-

Y/N: HOLY SHIT WRONG PERSON I'M SO SORRY

Okay. Maybe not for him.

For the second time in as many minutes, you sent Lighter's thoughts spiralling. Who did you intend to send those photos to if not him? Not that he expected you to send him raunchy photos, but he didn't think you were seeing anyone. He liked to think you'd have told him, even if it wasn't serious. Had he overestimated how close you were? Or was there some other reason - did you not think he'd approve? Well, not that Lighter would truly approve of any partner that wasn't himself, but you didn't know that. As long as they treated you well, he would be happy for you. Did they not treat you well? The mere thought had him clenching his fists with the sudden desire to throttle someone. And the tent in his pants wasn't exactly helping him clear his head, especially when the beautiful cause for it was still on his screen. And the intended recipient of those photos was the nameless, faceless mystery he was in the mood to throttle.

Crap. He still hadn't responded to you. You probably thought he'd left you on read.

Y/N: i meant to ask lucy for advice on the set ur names are next to each other i'm so sorry again, u did not need to see that

Right. Lucy often gave you advice on clothes - on the times you joined him in the city, you were constantly texting her pictures of clothes you saw in shop windows, wondering if you should buy them. And it made sense - the fact he got a full view of your body between the two photos was just a heavenly side effect of you trying to show both sides of the set. This didn't mean there wasn't someone else in mind with the lingerie, but at least you hadn't meant to send those photos to some asshole who you couldn't even tell him about.

But, more pressingly, he still had to respond. You'd sent Lighter six messages now, and he'd opened them immediately and not said anything the whole time. Not even typing. Just staring at the photos of your boobs like the lovestruck, horny idiot he was. He told himself to get a grip.

He had to be chill about it. He could tell you were freaking out a little on the other end of the phone - he just had to let you know it was okay, that you hadn't made anything weird. Without any hints to the fact he was picturing every possible dirty scenario that involved you, him and that pretty lace.

you're all good, don't stress about it

Shit. That came out way too dismissive. He should have addressed the situation more. Or would that be weird? Lighter was struck by the realisation that, for maybe the first time ever, he had no idea what to say to you. Words always flowed with you, even when you had his heart thumping in his chest; conversation had always been as easy as breathing. Though, to be totally fair, this whole situation was making breathing a bit more difficult too.

Y/N: thank u T^T this is so embarrassing fr

The message had served its purpose, at least. The two of you could move on with your lives. But there was still that itch he couldn't scratch; the guilt of enjoying the accident so much without you knowing, coupled with a desperate feeling that an opportunity was passing him by.

Lighter's fingers were flying across the keyboard in an instant, lurid compliments backspaced and overcorrected with praise that was far too chaste for the situation, then back in the other direction. He couldn't exactly tell you that he was thinking about fucking you so hard you'd leave scratches down his back the same beautiful scarlet as your bra, but calling pictures like that 'cute' would probably be insulting. The respectful balance he was looking for seemed just out of reach.

Eventually, he settled on something, finger hovering over the send button a little too long until he muttered a quick "fuck it", sending the message before the inevitable panic could set in.

if it's not weird to say, you look gorgeous in it

bonus!!

lighter's the kind of guy to send a risky text and immediately throw his phone into a river bc he got nervous abt how you'd respond

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