#t: magical measuring

[benevolentgodloki]

cloxkedin answered: Based on -> (x) Her initial inclination was to reciprocate the stare. As clichés go, Cloak sensed his presence even before laying eyes on him. Describing the innate instinctual nudge proved challenging, yet, preceding even that, she had detected a distinct magical trace. There was an undeniable recognition that transcended the mortal plane. Presently taking a human form, rationale minimally dictated that she looked. Eventually, she did. Thankfully, words were not imperative for communication. Cloak fixed Loki with a piercing stare, a narrowed gaze and perhaps, a tableau of intrigue only for a half-hearted smirk to surface a moment later, daring him to look away.

He wasn't supposed to be in this part of the Sanctum, much of the house off limits to its half-guest-half-prisoner. The texts on these shelves, however, were not particularly dangerous, not enough to be warded. Loki would not have been able to access them otherwise with the wristband he was currently forced to wear that dampened his powers.

With the sorcerers sleeping, he had not expected to meet someone else. Someone who had managed to move quietly enough for them to escape his notice. If he were lucky, they wouldn't know what he was or wasn't permitted. Something about them felt familiar.

Her smirk was curious. She reminded Loki then of someone from his past. He resisted the urge to avert his gaze and instead solidified it, turning to face her properly.

"And just who might you be?"

@cloxkedin

[danmeichael]

im so glad people appreciate how smart i am for making a character transmasc when his dick being gargantuan is a major plotpoint in the novel

[plutonianeris]

Asteroid Lilith (1181)

Asteroid Lilith in the houses of your natal chart brings up themes of independence, rebellion, and primal feminine energy.

With Lilith in your 1st House, you are the storm that cannot be contained. You stride into spaces, and the air crackles with your presence. Eyes are drawn to you, not just in awe but in reverence, because you carry a power that is both undeniable and untamed. You break the mold of what the world expects, shattering conventions with every step. You are not here to conform; you are here to redefine. Your very existence is a rebellion, a statement that you will never be controlled or confined.

In the 2nd House, Lilith is the fire that burns through the chains of dependency. You demand freedom in the realm of resources and self-worth, craving independence like oxygen. Your relationship with money and possessions is a reflection of your inner rebellion—there is no value to you in material things unless they symbolize your autonomy. You rewrite the rules of what it means to be secure, standing tall in the knowledge that your worth is beyond measure, unbound by society's definition of success.

Lilith in the 3rd House gives your voice a sharp edge, like a blade cutting through the noise. You speak truths others shy away from, your words charged with the kind of power that demands attention. There is no space for the ordinary in your mind; you are a disruptor of thought, challenging outdated beliefs and lighting fires in the hearts of those willing to listen. You are the voice of the unspoken, the whisper of revolution carried on the wind.

With Lilith rooted in the 4th House, home is not a place you inherit—it’s something you create on your own terms. You are the breaker of family patterns, the one who refuses to be held by the weight of tradition. Your emotional independence is fierce, like an ancient forest that grows wild and free, untethered by expectations. You carve out a sanctuary that reflects your soul’s desire for freedom, where no one can dictate what “family” or “home” should mean to you.

In the 5th House, Lilith dances with fire. Your creativity is electric, unchained, and your approach to love is nothing short of revolutionary. You live for passion that breaks the rules, for art that shocks the senses. There’s an intoxicating wildness in how you love and create—you do not follow paths, you blaze new ones. Every romance, every creative act, is an expression of your refusal to be anything less than fully, fiercely alive.

Lilith in the 6th House rebels against the grind, the monotony, the soul-crushing routines of the conventional world. You cannot be tamed by authority or confined by clocked hours; your spirit demands freedom in your work. Your approach to health mirrors this autonomy—there’s a deep wisdom in how you care for yourself, often turning to holistic or alternative paths that honor your need for balance outside the norm. You are not here to merely survive—you are here to thrive, on your own terms.

In the 7th House, Lilith brings the storm to your relationships. You are not interested in partnerships that bind or restrict—you crave equality, freedom, and intensity in every connection. Power struggles may arise, but they only serve to remind you of the sacred fire within that refuses to be dimmed. You seek relationships that elevate and liberate, where love is not a chain but a dance of two souls who choose to be free together.

Lilith in the 8th House is the embodiment of your deepest, most primal desires. You are drawn to the taboo, the hidden, the places others fear to explore. Power, sexuality, and transformation are your realms, and you navigate them with a fearless heart. In the depths of intimacy, you find your strength, exploring the darker edges of life with a sense of purpose. This placement asks you to embrace the shadows, to find the magic that lies within the mystery of your soul.

Lilith in the 9th House is the wild sage, the wanderer who refuses to be tied to any dogma or rigid belief. You are a seeker of truth, but not the kind written in stone. You crave freedom in your exploration of life’s philosophies, pushing beyond the boundaries of conventional wisdom. Spirituality, travel, and education are sacred to you—but only when they allow you to soar, unchained and untamed, toward the horizons that call your name.

In the 10th House, Lilith challenges you to tear down the walls of the conventional career. You will not be bound by society’s narrow definitions of success. There’s a wild ambition here, one that seeks not to fit in but to break free. You are a force of disruption in the public sphere, unafraid to challenge authority and redefine what it means to stand in your power. You don’t just play the game—you change the rules entirely.

With Lilith in the 11th House, you are the rebel within the collective. Social norms and group expectations feel like shackles to you, and you refuse to be anything less than your authentic self. You are drawn to causes and communities that reflect your own wild, progressive ideals, but even here, you challenge groupthink. You push others to think differently, to embrace their uniqueness, and to stand tall in their individuality, just as you do.

In the 12th House, Lilith pulls you into the depths of your own psyche. You are no stranger to the shadows, to the hidden parts of yourself that others may fear. Here, you find power in the unconscious, in the dreams and mysteries that swirl beneath the surface of life. This is where you confront your deepest fears, your buried desires, and your untapped potential. Lilith guides you to embrace the darkness within, to find liberation in the unseen forces that shape your reality.

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Dirty Dozen (ft. +2)

GN! MC x Pervert! OM Characters

(Cause y'all seemed to love the first one omg. Also TW: I made everyone wayy more sleazy and nasty than before so read at your own risk. MInors DNI)

Pervert! Mammon who likes to ask you for something specifically when your hands are full. "MC, lend me a few Grimm could ya?" He asks when you're in the middle of cooking.

"My hands are covered in cake batter, just take some from my back pocket."

"Are you sure it's there? Let me check both pockets." He isn't so much searching for coins as much as he's feeling and practically groping your ass. Seriously you start to wonder how it's taking him 20 minutes to find something that's right there.

Pervert! Solomon who keeps his room colder than usual when you come over for magic lessons.

"Is it too cold for you MC? I apologise, I kept it this way because some of the potions have bad reactions to heat but if you'd like-"

"I'm absolutely fine, Solomon. You worry about me too much." You smile at him reassuringly, not noticing how his eyes are so eagerly trained at your nipples perking up through your thin t-shirt.

Boner Bonus points if you allow him to hug you for some warmth. His fingers will definitely brush against your chest more than once.

Pervert! Beel who seems to make a mess whenever he's trying to help you in the kitchen. "I'm so sorry, MC. I didn't mean to spill it on your hands!"

"It's okay Beel, it's just some cream and syrup. I can just wash it off right away."

"But it's such a waste. Please allow me." He starts to thoroughly lick your fingers and you shake your head and let him knowing his fixations on food.

But he can't help it - you taste so good. He secretly wonders what you might taste like down there, drooling at the thought.

Pervert! Levi who has taken to sitting on pillows Japanese style while gaming and offers you the same. Sure enough you don't even suspect an ulterior motive.

"Did you get inspired by some human world anime again? Careful though - your legs and butt will start to cramp after a while."

"MC you're too gracious! Caring so much for an otaku like me!"

After you leave, he promptly takes the pillow you were sitting on and puts it in his bathtub. He's going to sleep on it ofc. Your scent on it helps him jerk off better.

Pervert! Belphie who now asks you to rub his belly till he falls asleep. "What's so funny?" He asks as you giggle at his request.

"Since when do you need help falling asleep?"

"I care about the quality of my sleep. And I sleep better this way."

Fortunately you believe him and don't suspect that it's because it's the closest he can get you to fondling his dick. He has such a difficult time holding in his moans and hard ons, every time your hands go even a bit lower than usual.

Pervert! Barbatos who got into sewing clothes as a hobby and specifically likes making them for you now. But you never understand why he needs to take same measurements over and over again.

"Oh? This is a different kind of design, MC. So the measurements will vary from before."

"Always making new things aren't you? You never fail to suprise Barbatos." You smile at him admiring.

The tightening of the tape around your chest and crotch are subtle. He can hardly keep it together when you praise him after all. But he has to if he wants to skim his hands over your body like this again.

Pervert! Diavolo who takes you on such long drives that you always doze off in the front seat, waking up apologetic for missing so much of the journey.

"Hahaha, it's okay, MC. We've been on this same road lots of times. I assure you, you didn't miss anything. And I like that you feel safe to sleep in my presence."

"But still, I'm so sorry, it feels disrespectful..." You apologize, not even knowing how hard he is in his pants right now.

Afterall, he can keep squeezing your beautiful thighs, maybe let his hands wander between them and imagine himself fucking you in the back seat as much as he wants, when you're asleep.

Pervert! Simeon who will have noone except you as his muse for art classes. And the themes just keep getting more erotic each time.

"Are you sure you're okay with this, MC? You don't have to do it if you're not comfortable-"

"Nonsense, Simeon. I feel super comfortable if it's you. You're a true artist after all." You say as you lay on his bed wrapped up only in bedsheets, exposing your entire back and legs.

If only you knew, this angel has thoughts dirtier than most demons. How he's practically fucking you with his eyes. How he's definitely going to jerk off into those bedsheets, moaning your name.

Pervert! Satan who loves teaching you things - standing right behind you, guiding your hands to make latte-art, or trying a new style of painting.

"That's it, nice and slow. Look how much you've improved, MC." He beams at the cute kitty in the coffee cup.

"All thanks to you, Satan. I can't wait to learn more from you." You smile at him earnestly.

He almost feels guilty for tricking you this way, but the way your hands feel in his, and your ass feels against his groin is so addicting. One of these days, he wishes could teach you to be on all fours and take his length in your pretty little mouth.

Pervert! Asmo who loves keeping your eyes on him and noone else. From elaborate performances to petty staring contests, he cannot have enough of your gaze.

"Oh you're turning red in the face, Asmo. Did I manage to flutter the heart of the Avatar of Lust?" You lean forward smiling.

"You're my only weakness after all, MC. It's your fault for making me this way." He almost moans.

You laugh and mock apologize at his antics but you don't know he's been grinding like an animal on his seat, and creamed his pants under your innocent gaze. Your undivided attention just turns him on so much.

Pervert! Lucifer who makes his desires too obvious sometimes. He'll regret it in the morning and take you to dinner to apologize but not until he's already done something dirty.

"Lucifer, it's 2 am. You need to throw away that coffee and sleep." You're practically dragging him to bed.

"Fine. I'll go sleep if you'll stay in my room tonight." He says knowing you'll comply. You care too much for your own good. He's not even going to let you sleep on the couch, no you have to stay wrapped up in his arms.

You might wake upto him groaning your name in his sleep and you might mistake it for a nightmare - not knowing how he's balls deep inside you in his dreams.

Pervert! Thirteen who likes how excited you get over her newest inventions and keeps making more things to call you over.

"And this little baby and can throw pie at people's faces without ever missing. Guaranteed headshot." She smiles proud.

"This would be so useful in a cafeteria food fight and then get banned right after its glory. But I so wanna use it!" You whine.

She loves how much you appreciate her inventions. She is secretly working on a 'pleasure' device scented like her to give you - she hopes you'll like it just as much.

Pervert! Mephisto who is actually taken aback by your duality. You're such a mischievous little imp usually but turn so well-mannered in front of Diavolo's esteemed guests.

"So even you can be prim and proper sometimes? If only you could maintain this on the daily." He huffs.

You laugh and mock-bow in front of him. "Of course, anything for you my dearest lord. Would you like to dance with this proper human while you can?"

He blushes at the sudden offer. Why you little- how dare you tempt him like this. You can't complain about him gripping you somewhere improper or too tight. You deserve this for your attitude.

Pervert! Raphael who is still navigating new feelings of lust he's never felt before he met you. Why his heart skips every time you fall asleep on his shoulder or why he felt a sudden warmth at the pit of his stomach feeling you breath so softly into his neck.

"Thank you for helping me tidy the classroom, MC. I didn't even know where the cleaning supplies were."

"That's alright. It's more fun with two people anyway and wait Raphael there's a bucket over the-" The fresh bucket of water already spilled splashing all over both of you.

You immediately fetched a towel to help him dry up but he couldn't stop staring at you instead. With the uniform sticking to your body like and the water glistening on your exposed skin - why was he so enthralled? Why does he feel a strange pulsing between his legs as you hover over him?

[multifandomme]

Is It Casual?

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Female Reader

Summary: You meet a mysterious stranger and decide to partake in a rather racy experiment.

Genre: Smut, (alcohol consumption, strap ons, praise, pet names, multiple orgasms, marking, thigh-riding, semi-public, biting, kind of anonymous), not suitable for minors.

Word Count: 2.6k.

This piece is for day 10 of kinktober under the 'first time' prompt.

Emily Prentiss Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Kinktober 2024 || Read on AO3

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A magical gravitational pull enclosed around the bar area as you lingered on the outskirts of the crowd. Every so often, a man would break off from his circle, his chest puffed out, intent on something, someone, only to return to his friends having been assumedly rebutted. Of course, the men remained unperturbed by the rejection, fuelled by faux confidence and growing intoxication, though each feeble attempt at catching the attention of this mystery patron would go unnoticed, unreciprocated. 

An ardent curiosity prickled at your skin, so viscerally that goosebumps rippled to cloak you, equal measures of excitement and nervousness quickly taking hold. The warm embrace of tipsiness did nothing to quell your intrigue, your feet soon traversing towards the chaos at their own accord. The air by the bar was noticeably thicker, blazing bodies melding together, the scent of residual alcohol, abandoned shot glasses stacked high. Loudened voices bellowed over the music, lips ghosting ears and in the centre spot upon a barstool, seemingly disjointed from the surrounding madness, the catalyst of all of the failed advances. Her.

Her sizzling gaze followed the bartender, a manicured finger tracing the lipstick stain that was stamped onto the rim of her wine glass. She nursed the scarlet dregs with a palpable patience, a careful composure, in stark contrast to the crazed antics that occurred just beyond her peripheral vision. And, if the elegance that oozed so abundantly from her had not proven enough to capture every iota of your attention, the plunging cleavage from the maroon shirt she donned had surely sealed the deal. 

“You seem to be causing quite the stir,” you ventured as you slotted in beside her, the new proximities limited, risky, “you don’t like the attention?”

A blatant coyness veiled her features as she gulped the remainder of her wine without a word, her tongue flecking over her lips to foil the threat of a wayward droplet. She blinked slowly, her cheeks hollowed as though she was inwardly considering her options, the first to engage, the second to send you running like all those that had dared to undertake the journey before you. 

“It’s the hair, I guess,” she shrugged, feigning disinterest, her thumbs toying idly with the stem of her now empty glass in the hopes that her nerves would subside and quickly. 

She wasn’t wrong, her silver strands celestial beneath the low lighting, her irises so dark and mesmerising that you were certain you could free-fall into their depths and get lost somehow. The alcohol had rendered you brazen, unchecked as you studied her intricately, taken by the blush-tinted skin of her chest, feasting on her cleavage with saliva accumulating in your mouth. 

“Perhaps, it is,” you considered, shaking your mind from the sin that clouded your thoughts, a smirk etched into your mouth, the images resurfacing and merely gaining clarity. “But I have a feeling it could have something to do with these.”

Your finger highlighted her cleavage in a flickering gesture, uncontrollable laughter rumbling from your throat as her eyes grew wide in embarrassment. 

“Oh, God,” she winced, a deepened pink hue materialising upon her face as she sought to yank the material upward to recover her exposure, her breasts having jutted out a little further than she had initially intended. 

A sudden confidence ricocheted, your hand swatting outwards to occlude her motion, her eyes flecking with confusion, with a trace of bubbling zeal that she appeared to be trying to cage. 

“Hey,” you purred, leaning in close until her grey strands tousled against the skin of your cheek, her perfume infecting your senses and almost ridding you of coherence. “I wasn’t complaining.”

“You’re devious,” she shot, an eyebrow quirked, the last semblances of humiliation ebbing away behind a lurking simper that kindled in the corner of her mouth. 

The magnetism fizzed in your stomach, electricity sparking as she met your gaze, basking silently in the confounded feelings that this simple interaction had evoked.

“Well, I must be doing something right,” you surmised, boldly, as you bit back a sprawling grin. “You haven’t rejected me yet.” You threw her a wink. “How about I buy you a refill?”

A flitting silence descended, her index finger prodding softly at her chin, a mask of rumination enveloping, though you knew of its prevarication. 

“Merlot,” she acquiesced, her words accompanied by a cautionary glare, “and make it a big one.”

A hum of appeasement expelled from her as she willed in a sip of the replenished beverage, the crimson colouring her lips. The urge to steal a taste of her ruptured your thought process, the motivation so forceful that you could not pry your mind away. And in your wandering reverie, you revelled in the feeling of her lips dancing with yours, her silver locks like velvet between your fingers, inhibitions deliquescing. 

“What’s your name?” You wondered, aloud, intent on dismantling some of the mystery that veiled her, needing to. 

She flicked her hair to the side, the abruptness of the manoeuvre inciting the accidental undoing of a button on her shirt, her nipples almost edging into visibility. Brilliant white peered out and formed a menacing smirk and in that moment, you were certain that the gesture had been somehow intentional. And as quickly as her smirk had appeared, it vanished behind an ironclad veneer of innocence, her eyelashes fluttering and subsequently transfixing you. 

“Emily,” she revealed, her mouth promptly occupied by the rim of the glass as she sucked in another large gulp of wine. "More importantly, who are you?"

And it was the subtlest of movements that possessed your attention, the way Emily’s pretty eyes wavered erratically between your lips and irises with a twinge of uncertainty. As if she was teasing herself with the possibility of what could be, and rescinding to the voices of doubt at the very last second, albeit reluctantly. Her question hung in the balance, lost in the haziness of the bar, a sudden epiphany gracing you. 

“You like women,” you blurted, thoughtlessly, observing as she faltered in an instant, her mouth wide and yet void of sound. “That’s why you turned away all of those men, isn’t it?”

Her larynx bobbed in a forceful swallow, her gaze momentarily averted and for a second, you had expected for her to forge a hasty escape.

“I… don’t know,” she admitted, raw honesty rasping in her tone, a conflicted expression contorting her features. “I’ve never been with a woman before. I want to, I just never…”

Tenderly, you coiled a finger below her chin, drawing her into you, into dangerous territories, and to your surprise, she did nothing to thwart the audacious advance. Instead, her striking brown eyes glazed over with discernible lust, sparkling as you grazed your lips against hers in a wraith-like touch. So gentle that it made Emily question if you had ever really made contact at all. 

“Let's find out, shall we?"

The answer never did find you, replaced instead by the emergence of fervent lips crashing upon yours. Every scintilla of tension disintegrated, a searing passion cascading and persisting until you had forgotten everything about your surroundings. Nothing mattered more than the feeling of her mouth moving against you, instinct quickly overtaking as her hands grasped at you, desperate for closer contact, for further access. 

Her tongue slid fervidly into your mouth, snaking and flickering, the vibrations of her contented hums reverberating with vigour. Your hands fell to her hips, manipulating her body until the proximities were smothering, until every curve of her body was absorbed into you, her heartbeat echoing into your chest. With a harshened grip, you removed her from the barstool and lodged your knee betwixt her thighs, heat pooling there as she lurched forward and fixed you in place.

Her lewd moans pierced the music, stirring your excitement into a roaring flame as you chased in pursuit of her sound, desperate to procure more of it. 

“I have a… uh… hotel room upstairs,” you mumbled, your words clashing and colliding against the vicious assault of saliva, parching air and teeth. "We could-"

“Yes,” she interjected, breathlessly, adamant in her decision as she nodded in reiteration, “now.”

Intertwined fingers kept you undivided as you meandered through the bar area and towards the spiralling staircase. And perhaps it was blind optimism that led you to believe that you would survive the short journey, but whatever it was fell by the wayside the moment Emily’s back met the corridor’s wall. Her silver-grey tresses mussed against the jagged stone, her sights secured on returning your knee to its prior position, nestled snugly in the nook of her thighs. 

“I thought you’d never done this before,” you mused, tauntingly, your lips attaching to her pulse point and delighting in her audible response.

“Shut up and kiss me,” she challenged, her fingernails raking your scalp as she willed your lips into hers once more, her libido gaining traction, flourishing below your exertions.

The only shred of concealment existed in the way the sound from the bar below bled through the thin walls, the music muffling the guttural moans that sprung from her on continuum. Out of sight of the patrons, Emily was unrestrained, forceful, rutting against your thigh with clear intention, her hands enclosed around the back of your neck for leverage. 

“Fuck,” she cursed, impatiently, agitated by the way the material of her trousers stifled the pleasure that plagued her, working overtime with her hips to squeeze anything she could out of the contact. “Not enough,” she panted, hopelessly, “I need more.”

Her state of torment had proven too much for you to bear, intent on gifting exactly what she was yearning for. In a swift movement, your fingers slipped beneath the clothing that separated you, torrid wetness soon lapping against your hand, her head knocking backwards against the stone.

And the second her clit had arrived below your fingertips, Emily’s orbs darkened to jet, possessed with a greed so bottomless that it bewildered you. Her hips bucked wildly with every careful caress, your cunning smirk searing against her mouth as she whimpered and whined, occasionally reciprocating your affections with a breathy kiss. 

“You look so fucking beautiful like this,” you growled, positively bewitched by the expression that clouded her, the obscene noises that fled free, unbridled. “So pretty when you moan for me, baby.”

Emily’s consciousness seemed to surge back into existence, an adorable beam bursting out from behind the pleasure that kept her engrossed, as if the part of herself she had been hiding had finally been rid of its cage. Her grip tightened upon you and when she recaptured your lips she appeared to have recovered a semblance of the composure that she had lost. This time, the kiss was strangely sentimental, her ferocity curbed, her touch noticeably softer, intentional. 

“Please,” she whispered, her plea breathing renewed zeal into you. “I need this, I need you.”

The allure in her voice only heightened your enthralment, your pace quickening along with the pressure that you delivered. Her clit slid rapidly below your fingers, arousal laving over it repeatedly as she drove her hips forward to meet your reckless motions. Haphazardly, you groped at her breast, plucking roughly at her nipple in the hopes of forcing her to the verge.

“That’s it, baby,” you praised, earnestly, launching forward to press open-mouthed kisses to her neck, her body flexing into rigidity against you, a suffocating heat settling around you. "Cum for me, like that, so good for me."

“Fuck!”

Protected in the firmness of your embrace, Emily trembled madly, crumbling against the wall as her knees buckled. Your strong hold shielded her from the floor below, her lifeless weight entirely dependent upon you as you swept her up, your sights set on the private confinements of the hotel room. 

You had assumed that you had been steadfast in your pacification of her, though as soon as you swiped the key and the door swung wide, her lips unleashed a faithful attack upon you. In the pitch dark, your hands clumsily scaled the walls in search of the light switch, Emily’s fists bunched against your shirt as she marched you towards the bed. 

Emily ripped every garment from her body, presenting herself in all of her naked glory as she collapsed onto the bed, awaiting you. Her eyes wordlessly beckoned you, alight with undying passion, unhinged craving and you were unable to refute her, ecstatic at the prospect of having her writhing against you again. 

You rid yourself of the inhibiting material that cloaked you, her gaze settling on the strap on that had suddenly become visible. A flitting glimpse of bewilderment passed over her, soon developing into a growing excitement that could not be denied. 

“Now, I think I know what to do with that,” she boasted, playfully, her teeth peeking out to clamp her bottom lip, your stare lowering to steal a glance at her glistening pussy, the visceral need to have her slowly infiltrating. 

“And I can’t wait to watch you take it,” you admitted, eagerly, her skin smooth as it brushed over yours, impatient to angle yourself against her spilling arousal.

There was no time for pleasantries, no need to pretend that anything else mattered save from filthy gratification. With a ferocious slam, you had bottomed out inside of her, a loudened shriek expelling from her until it ebbed out into a throaty hum. Emily’s jaw hung wide, sporadic breaths slipping in and out, her orbs abyssal, unblinking. 

“You’re taking me so well, baby,” you cooed, stooping your head to sink your teeth into her neck, the sharp sting of the bite inducing a violent jolt within her. “Such a good girl.”

A pitiful whimper emitted, her hands clutching around your neck as she urged you closer, deeper, lifting her hips in a fruitless bid to expedite the speed. Though you were more than happy to oblige, transforming your motion into one that seemed to exceed her initial expectation, brutal and unrelenting. 

“Feels… so good,” she quaked, her breasts rocking with every forcible pounding, your mouth landing to suckle on her nipple, her chest heaving upward to bask in the sensation. “Harder,” she groaned, her voice faint, though resolute in her demand. “Don’t- mhm, don’t hold back.”

Perspiration trailed at your brow, Emily’s cheeks tinged in a rosy glow as you focused on adhering to her request, every ounce of effort thrust forth, your hips driving with a force unmatched. Her eyes rolled into her head, occasionally locking onto you, a senseless smile playing on her lips. 

“Are you close, baby?” You asked, knowingly, her eyebrows softly drawing inwards, her breath ragged. “You keep those pretty eyes on me when you cum for me.”

She nodded, mindlessly, her fingers abruptly weaving themselves into your hair and tugging excessively, the pain almost draining the air from your lungs. 

“Gonna cum for you,” she rasped, her mouth melting into yours as her screams bled into your mouth. “Yes, fuck.”

And she was elegant even as she unravelled, so beautiful as she twitched and whined in the wake of you. Her thumbs caressed delicate patterns across your cheeks, her eyes falling to a close for a few drawling seconds. The silence was thick, though you were surprised to find that it did not feel uncomfortable at all, despite the fact that you were in the presence of a stranger. 

“Did you find your answer?” You smiled, casting away the unruly strands of silver from her face, a fleeting spurt of laughter filling the space.

“Not quite,” she replied, an almost unnoticeable simper evolving. “I think you should fuck me again, just to be sure.”

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@ionlylikemarvelforthewomen ♡ @agenderrat ♡ @i-write-sometimes-maybe ♡ @sugaryspiciness ♡ @chiefemilyprentiss ♡

[senseandaccountability]

the narrative that could have been

Having mulled over the game for a couple of days I have realised that the main problem for me is that Veilguard is good based on the premises they ultimately choose, but not based on the set up and promise of what was there before. I know this isn’t a unique take by any means and yes it’s all about the Evanuris and the Veil and Solas. 

Replaying really emphasises how incredibly little the game convinces me of its original main quest - to prevent Solas from doing his ritual. This is a problem as a long-term player because for three games we’ve had build up for a great crescendo tackling the overarching themes of the (restrictions and oppression of) magic, of tears in the Veil, of religious tyranny and oppression based on myths about the Black City and the temptations of flawed humans, we’ve seen and deconstructed the elves quite a bit, we got started on the dwarves and in DAI your Inquisitor can openly ask Solas if it wouldn’t be better if the Veil came down because then spirits wouldn’t be separated from the living and risk becoming demons. Cole, whose function is to reflect the plot, talks endlessly about the old songs wanting to be sung again, about how it hurts to be cut off from part of yourself, how the templars feel it, how the mages feel it, how the elves and the dwarves feel it. The Veil as a prerequisite for life has been deconstructed, the Fade demystified, the gods have mostly fallen. The Veil as an actual wound inflicted on this earth has been presented as a theory and not been convincingly rejected by the narrative. 

The game actually gives no explanation whatsoever as to why the Veil coming down would be worse than what Rook causes in the beginning and what the escaped gods then do to the entire Thedas. The entire south falls to the Blight because Elgar’nan and Ghilan'nain are let loose. The Wardens are more or less wiped out. There’s enormous political turmoil. The game gives us Solas saying “thousands” would die when he brought the Veil down, but that he had a host of spirits there to help. (Yes, I know, his sole function in this game is to Trick and Deceive so who is to say if he’s lying, HUH, but even so, THE ENTIRE SOUTH FALLS TO THE BLIGHT IN ROOK’S VERSION OF THINGS.)

The game puts emphasis on Solas's questionable methods and past horrors but it doesn't ever explain why his goals are despicable here and now. It doesn't convince us that tearing down the Veil with lots of safety measures in place and after considerations is a bad result, all things considered - save for Varric’s initial yelling about demons. (We even learned in DAI that the Veil itself creates demons because it restricts the passage of spirits, come on.) Because three games have suggested it's not, not ultimately. Trespasser especially nuances this, just as it nuances Solas’s view of this current world state. Right after his long nap he would have nuked it all, I’m sure, but the whole point of character arcs is that things happen in them and what happened to him is that he was shown layers and angles he had not considered and adjusted his mindset and ultimately his plan accordingly. That is where DAV should have picked it up. That's where the build up was headed. But, now he must serve the narrative solely as the God of Treachery and Lies which means that previous build up is washed away for the most part. (In no way do I think he is OOC in DAV, I just want to point that out so nobody thinks I’m a sappy fangirl or whatever. I think he is perfectly in tune with his inner Dread Wolf, but that is also all he gets to be, because of the narrative, and I’m always much more interested in when roles and personas clash.) Again. The main problem is that the narrative cannot explain why bringing down the Veil would be the worse option than the shit we see unfold on screen. Instead it gets a bit lost in the past.  And I have Issues with that, as well.  Like, the dumbing down of the war against the Evanuris. The war that started because the leaders of the rebellion - who previously had to carry out terrible orders so the Evanuris, the upper crust of the Elvhenan, could play gods - decided that the Evanuris was a threat to them all. And the game gives us what, a depiction of how the rebellion ended up crossing lines, too? No shit.

Like, I am fully on board with the individual theme of regret on Solas’s part and he ought to be wrecked with guilt but I wish the game could be less all over the place with what sort of things he ought to be wrecked with guilt over. Saying fuck you to the Evanuris is the best and brightest of his character, I suppose I just don't want it dragged down to the same level as him breaking the Titans. I suppose I would have wished for a narrative that also worked on a systemic level when depicting things like, you know, war and revolutions and subjugation. But we don't have that, because DAV is only about personal choices. The Lighthouse crew flippantly writing the hierarchical and violent power struggle off as being about love and betrayal is on my shitlist forever. 

No, Taash et al, it was not about pussy, it was about feeling compelled by superiors to commit heinous war crimes and being lied to about the actual purposes of your damn war in the first place. The elves shouting at Elgar’nan and Mythal in this painting aren’t driven by love and sex they have been lied to by their ruling class. It was never about freedom or ending the wars, it was always about Elgar’nan jerking off to ultimate godhood. The writing even suggests betrayal here is to be understood as Netflix drama betrayal, maybe some juicy porny plot but it’s ABOUT THE BETRAYAL OF THE ELVES BY THEIR OWN KIN.  ((ETA: I would have wanted my Dalish mage to be allowed to be furious, NOT WITH SOLAS, but with the fucking Evanuris for betraying her people and being so fucking vile that the only option that remained was to create a world where she's a second-class citizen. I would have wanted the game to recognize that not all causes are equal and that Elgar'nan's cause for godhood was objectively more vile than Solas's cause for freedom because as it stands now, there are some really iffy vibes of "both sides are equally bad" and other things authorities tend to say when comparing destructive regimes with uprisings.)) I’m sorry, this shit hits me on a personal and political rage level. 

I also can’t help but mourn a game where the Trickster God fulfilled his trope’s duty and shook the stagnation apart with his actions - for good or ill, the way trickster gods are wont to do - and where Rook was tricked into helping and then, a more complex game about its consequences could have unfolded. The Evanuris could still have been the bad guys, if they wanted big villains frothing at the mouth. There could still have been numerous unplanned consequences, like all of Solas's plans have. Maybe other ancients awake as well. Maybe ancient evils who aren’t elves, who knows. Point is - the Veil should have come down, at least in some form, at least in some outcome. THAT is what they've been building up to. In this game that never was, Rook could be an actual interesting character where we could mold her as either accepting of this trickster role (which fits perfectly for a blank slate with no ties) or set to overturn it and enforce status quo, with some vanilla option in the middle. Maybe the Veil doesn’t come down until the very end of the game, ancient magic takes time after all, maybe a lot has happened by then. But ultimately, Rook’s choice in the end should not have been about siding against Solas because he’s lying to you or because he did horrible things in the past or siding with him because you want him redeemed. The narrative should have provided those options either way. The narrative should have been brave enough to suggest that hey, maybe Solas isn't wrong at all - his methods maybe, but his goal, no. If they truly wanted mirrors between Rook and Solas, Rook should have tackled the issue of actively bringing down the Veil herself, not because it's a roses and sunshine-outcome but because it might very well be the lesser of two evils. Gods, that would have been interesting. It should have been a choice about what sort of world Rook and the Veilguard wants to see in the future. It should have been about the people, the world, not how angry Rook is that an ancient elf has tricked her. 

That would have been the game I wanted to play.  This story doesn't really give anything new to the world of Thedas, which a world without the Veil would have. It accomplishes closure for our favourite trickster god and bless them for that, but as for the plot and the world-building it ends on a meh because the narrative isn't about the people unless they're brought up as being endangered. This is why I can feel satisfaction regarding the thematic conclusion to certain character arcs, the trickster becomes the healer with the bloodiest hands, the wolf submits willingly to his trap and so on and so forth, and I can have fun with the characters and their arcs but also really mourn the game that was there, in subtext and build up over three previous games and in several tie-ins.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hello 👋 can I get a little body switcheru with twist dorm liders and Yuu? Even better if we'd have F!Yuu in this one ❤️!

I don't think I'll be doing all the dorm leaders right now but just a few 🖤🖤🖤

Body Switch | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

What a gift! To see precisely what your obsession sees, to touch with their perfect hand, to hear their lovely voice whenever they opened their mouth. Oh, the possibilities are endless! No matter the circumstance this is the stuff of dreams nightmares:

Vil Schoenheit

“OH SEVENS!”

Is at first horrified at the feeling of not being in his perfectly preened body

In his clean and not dingy home

But it diminishes when he realizes the one screaming in the dirty mirror is you

His precious love

“Ergh these black heads are insane. My potato has been neglecting their routine. That’ll be good to make a note of.”

He immediately gets to work

He has to make the next 24 hours in his dearest’s body count 

and he’s got so much to do and such little time

Immediately he inspects your home and makes a note of everything that’s lacking in Ramshackle

Perfect ammunition for his proposal to move to Pomefiore

Next he reads your diary or journal if you have one

And he dives into your photos and makes a mental note to send more headshots to you

Next he goes to Rook

“We have less than 12 hours before I return, get your camera.”

Already planned and prepared the photos are perfection

Next he takes your measurements 

Both for clothes and for ropes and fluffy cuffs

He debates deleting your friends from your contacts

But he’s not petty he is he’ll just send a text or two with passive aggressive undertones

And when he’s got close to an hour 

He takes the time to…examine your every inch …careful to not leave a mess behind

“So…soft and round…they will look glorious in couture.”

Idia Shroud

“Eeek! It worked!”

Spends nearly an hour squealing and jumping around

But then he goes to the mirror and starts his fantasy 

Using your lips to confess an undying love to Idia Shroud 

He records it and everything 

Next he goes to his room, already set up to allow a very specific code

He goes to his dorm

Everything is going perfectly to plan

Next he plans to dress you in the cosplay he already has your measurements for

“Yes! Now I just have to take this o-o-off! Ack! T-their s-skin! No! I can’t e-e-even if I’ve s-seen it through the camra it is so different!”

He genuinely can’t make it past your shirt

Too embarrassed and caught up in simply seeing all your skin

So instead he’ll move onto the next objective

Going to the pick up spot he’d already designated

Riding calmly as your taken to some unknown artificial island 

“Hehehe well at least one objective was completed…let’s just say that other one isn’t one of my skill levels just yet. Hehehe I’ll have more than enough time to level up though!”

Malleus Draconia

Someone or you must have said that little expression

“Try walking in my shoes! Its really inconvenient when you scare everyone away from me!”

“In your shoes?”

So he tries it 

Having your body become his own, allowing a day without his, in your words: overpowered bod

Oh is he warm

So warm he feels like your constantly hugging him 

Its immaculate

Than he spends a good while just admiring you in the mirror 

More than happy to study every pore of your skin in great detail

“Oh I did not realize their birth mark was this adorable.”

But he’ll soon find your legs ache so easily

Why can’t he stand straight for seven hours without your knees getting wobbly

Or how defenseless you are 

With nothing but his tiny wisps if his own magic to sense 

Its kind of horrifying 

But as agreed he tries to go throughout the day as you 

Enjoying the attention of all your friends

Granted they send weird looks when he says something odd

But you’ve already employed Grim as ‘his wingman’

Who frantically tries to get him through the day

He learns so much ‘by being in your shoes’ 

“I do not appreciate everyone having such careless interactions with you, especially when the amount of muscle let alone magic is…concerning.”

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

(Are your requests just closed to fics or headcannons too? If they’re closed to both ignore this and have a nice day 💕)

I love all of the dom WandaNat x sub fem reader dynamics

SoftWandanat x reader

MeanWandaNat x reader

Soft Wanda x Mean/Strict Natasha x reader

The list could go on

But there is something so specifically alluring about Mean/Strict Mommy Wanda x Lenient (not necessarily soft) Natasha x reader

Like I can’t explain it but that dynamic of them specifically is just so * chef kiss *

Anyway can I please have Strict Wanda/Lenient Natasha x reader headcannons 🤭

Thank you for this request! I love the idea of all different Wandanat x reader HC, but there truly is something about strict/lenient Wandanat that gets me~

Strict Wanda

-Wanda’s strictness primarily stems from her protective nature. She’s been through a lot and wants to ensure you’re safe at all times. She sets clear boundaries and expects you to follow them to avoid any danger.

-If you're involved in any superhero activities, Wanda will insist on rigorous training sessions. She believes in being prepared for anything and wants you to be at your best.

-Wanda ensures you maintain a healthy lifestyle. She monitors your diet, encourages regular exercise, and makes sure you get enough rest. She might even use a bit of her magic to help you recover from minor injuries or fatigue.

-Despite her strictness, Wanda is incredibly affectionate. She rewards your adherence to rules with loving gestures, be it cooking your favorite meal, giving you a massage, or simply cuddling with you on the couch.

-Wanda is particularly strict about the use of magic, both hers and yours if you have any abilities. She teaches you about the dangers and ensures you use your powers responsibly.

Lenient Natasha

-Natasha’s leniency comes from her deep trust in you. She believes in your ability to make good decisions and only steps in when absolutely necessary.

-Natasha gives you the freedom to explore and experience life but is always there to guide you if you need advice. She shares her own experiences to help you navigate tricky situations.

-Natasha loves spending relaxed, quality time with you. Whether it’s watching movies, going for a late-night drive, or just hanging out at a café, she enjoys the laid-back moments.

-Natasha values open communication. She encourages you to share your thoughts and feelings with her and is always ready to listen without judgment.

WandaNat

-With Wanda’s strictness and Natasha’s leniency, you get the best of both worlds. They balance each other out, providing you with both structure and freedom.

-You feel incredibly safe with both Wanda and Natasha. Wanda’s strict measures and Natasha’s vigilant yet relaxed approach ensure you’re well-protected from any harm.

-You have an amazing support system with them. Wanda’s nurturing nature combined with Natasha’s encouraging attitude ensures you feel loved, supported, and motivated.

-They plan a mix of adventurous outings and relaxed downtime. You might go on a thrilling mission one day and have a cozy movie night the next, keeping your life exciting yet balanced.

-Despite their different approaches, both Wanda and Natasha share an unconditional love for you. They cherish you deeply and are committed to your happiness and well-being, each showing their affection in their unique way.

NSFW Headcanons!

Strict Wanda

-Wanda's strictness extends to the bedroom. She loves taking control and ensuring that you follow her lead. She finds pleasure in directing you and seeing you submit to her desires.

-Wanda enjoys teasing and denying you. She takes pleasure in building up your anticipation, making you earn your release. She might use her magic to heighten your senses or keep you on edge longer.

-After intense sessions, Wanda is exceptionally caring. She ensures you feel loved and comforted, providing gentle aftercare to help you relax and recover.

-Wanda enjoys incorporating her Scarlet Witch persona into your intimate moments. The sight of her in her costume, commanding and powerful, adds an extra layer of excitement.

Lenient Natasha

-Natasha loves exploring new things in the bedroom. She encourages you to express your desires and fantasies, creating a safe space for experimentation.

-Natasha’s approach is more relaxed and seductive. She enjoys taking her time, using her skills to build up a slow, sensual experience that leaves you breathless.

-Natasha likes incorporating toys and tools into your intimate moments. She’s knowledgeable and confident, making the experience thrilling and adventurous.

-Natasha enjoys whispering sweet nothings and dirty talk in your ear, her husky voice adding to the allure and intimacy of the moment.

WandaNat

-The dynamic between strict Wanda and lenient Natasha creates an exhilarating experience. Wanda’s dominance and Natasha’s playful nature complement each other perfectly, offering you a variety of sensations and experiences.

-With Wanda’s magic and Natasha’s skilled touch, they enjoy bringing you to sensory overload. Wanda might use her powers to enhance your senses while Natasha teases you with her hands and mouth.

-They are both very attentive to you, taking turns or working together to ensure you feel adored and pleasured. Their combined efforts make you feel like the center of their world.

-Above all, Wanda and Natasha’s intimate moments with you are filled with love and affection. They prioritize your happiness and satisfaction, making every encounter a deeply emotional and fulfilling experience.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hi, Since it is the Fall season and Halloween is near, I was wondering if you could do Hazbin Cast x Reader, where it is romantic or platonic short stories but they are all Fall/Halloween-themed?

Romantic:

Lucifer - Haunted Maze -

He didn’t quite grasp why he’d suggested this adventure in the first place. It wasn’t fear that held him back—after all, he was the embodiment of darkness, the big bad devil himself. But amidst his bravado, a flicker of insecurity danced in his chest. Perhaps it was the need to impress you, or maybe it was the realization that after seven long years spent nursing his wounds from Lilith, so much had shifted in the world—and within him.

You both sported casual attire, clad in comfortable jeans and T-shirts that spoke of a relaxed night ahead. Excitement bubbled within you as you approached the entrance of the maze, the air thick with anticipation of what lay beyond. With the king of Hell by your side, this was bound to be an extraordinary experience. You bounced on your heels, your heart racing as you absorbed the eerie ambiance and listened intently to the rules. And just like that, you were off to the races, plunging into the unknown.

It was impossible to choose which aspect thrilled you more: the delightfully creepy atmosphere of the maze or the sight of Lucifer, the master of mischief, visibly unnerved as he navigated the twists and turns. Yet, the most magical part of this escapade was the way you both clung to each other like schoolchildren lost in a thrilling game, your laughter echoing in the shadows, creating an unbreakable bond that brought you closer than ever before.

Alastor - Baking -

He was bursting with enthusiasm to share some of Louisiana's culinary secrets with you, ready to whisk you away into the world of gumbo and jambalaya. But what he hadn’t anticipated was your own infectious excitement as you revealed plans for a homemade apple pie and caramel apples. Despite his usual aversion to sweets, denying you was simply out of the question; your passion was too irresistible.

Clad in your matching aprons, you both chuckled softly as you navigated through the mountain of cookbooks scattered around the cozy kitchen. The air was filled with the intoxicating scents of flour, sugar, and spices while a delightful chaos unfolded. You danced around each other, laughter bubbling up as you measured and mixed, transforming the kitchen into a whimsical wonderland of baked delights.

By the time nightfall claimed the day, the countertops were brimming with an array of confections that could tempt even the most disciplined. Yet, the sweetest part of the evening wasn’t just the delectable treats you’d created together; it was the gentle, lingering kisses shared amidst the flour-dusted chaos, each one a tender reminder of the enchanting memories you were crafting side by side.

Vox - Pumpkin Patch -

In his living years, he’d often heard tales of couples embarking on this charming tradition, though he had never truly participated himself. Now, with you by his side, he felt a surge of willingness to dive into this age-old custom. There was something undeniably endearing about selecting something special together, a silent acknowledgment of the bond you shared. Though he’d never admit it aloud, the thought warmed his heart.

He couldn’t help but blush at the sight of you in your simple overalls, a refreshing contrast to your usual work attire. You radiated a wholesome charm that made his heart flutter. In that moment, he felt an unexpected sense of domesticity, a cozy warmth that enveloped him as you stood together. Even though he was still dressed in his formal suit, your bright smile and gentle words encouraged him to embrace the moment and fully enjoy the date.

After you both selected your pumpkins, his grin widened, stretching from ear to ear. You were delightfully cute, struggling to carry as many pumpkins as your arms would allow, and he couldn’t help but find joy in your determination. He didn’t even think to mention his ability to teleport them home with a snap of his fingers; instead, he allowed his heart to swell with love for you, savoring the simple pleasure of being together in this enchanting moment.

Adam - Scary Movies -

Scary movies held no terror for the first man. Adam had witnessed a myriad of horrifying sights throughout his time as both a living man and an angel. With a heart full of courage, he was ready to be your knight in shining armor as blood-soaked apparitions and creepy clowns flickered menacingly across the screen. Nothing could shake his resolve—or so he thought.

Dressed in comfortable sweats and without his usual mask, Adam wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close as you prepared to press play on the TV. His smile was wide and infectious, and he secretly hoped you’d leap into his arms, proclaiming him your one and only lover, your fearless savior. But reality had other plans, far from the fantasy he envisioned.

As the final movie of your horror marathon drew to a close, you found yourself a laughing, blushing mess beside him, while he transformed into an adorably clingy bundle of nerves. It hadn’t even taken an hour for him to succumb to the tension, burying his face in your neck and holding on for dear life. The only silver lining of the night was the way you protected him from nightmares, showering him with sweet kisses and gentle cuddles, ensuring that he felt safe and cherished amidst the chaos of the films.

Husk - Fall Leaves -

He wasn’t one for fun, love, or anything that didn’t involve the comforting depths of a bottle. Yet, you were the radiant light in his otherwise shadowy world, and he would drop everything for you in a heartbeat. You were the only one who stood by him when life felt bleak and heavy, so he was ready to step outside and embrace the messiness of life alongside you.

He had no clue how you managed to charm Lucifer into conjuring trees adorned with vibrant, falling leaves, but your infectious joy made it impossible for him to resist. As he watched you adjust your little outfit, a warm smile tugged at his lips, despite his best efforts to suppress it. With rakes in hand, you both set to work, gathering leaves to create a magnificent pile, eagerly anticipating the moment when you could leap into the crisp autumn bounty.

He had to admit that the first few jumps felt a bit strange, a quirky tradition he was still getting used to. However, as you continued to play and laugh, he discovered that this outdoor activity was more addictive than any drink he’d ever known. The thrill of leaping into the colorful leaves became infinitely more enjoyable simply because you were by his side. He’d gladly dive into autumn leaves all year round if it meant sharing those moments with you, wrapped in laughter and warmth.

Platonic:

Charlie - Pumpkin Carving -

She was the one who suggested pumpkin carving, a clever idea to break the ice and strengthen your friendship. Since you were still relatively new to the hotel, it was the perfect excuse to spend some quality time together and deepen your bond. After all, what better way to get to know someone than through a little arts and crafts?

The lobby was transformed into a creative playground, with a pristine white tarp spread out like a canvas and one enormous pumpkin waiting to be deseeded and carved by the two of you. The experience quickly turned into a delightful mess, with pumpkin seeds flying and the sticky insides of the gourd splattering everywhere. Laughter echoed off the walls as you both embraced the chaos, reveling in the joy of your shared endeavor.

As you carved and chatted, you discovered so much about one another, and with each passing moment, you felt more at home in the hotel. Charlie’s quirky personality was a breath of fresh air, and you couldn’t help but smile at her antics. If she was willing to embrace your own sinful quirks, you could definitely see this blossoming friendship becoming something truly special.

Angel - Dressing up -

This Halloween, you were determined to shine; however, your fashion sense was more frightful than fabulous. Your quirky friend, the spider demon, with a flair for style, was eager to help select the perfect costume. While the thought of being dressed by an overly seductive arachnid gave you hesitance, your trust in him was unwavering.

The real fun kicked off once you stepped into his fabulously chaotic room. You two explored various costume possibilities, from whimsical animals to bizarre inanimate objects. After a spirited debate, you both agreed that a chic, simple costume would be the perfect choice. With some creativity, Angel transformed clothing and makeup into a masterpiece while seamlessly addressing your concerns with a playful grin.

Amidst the playful banter and flirtatious jabs, you could feel the bond between you tightening like a spider's web. When he finally unveiled your outfit, you were relieved and delighted! It was stylish yet tasteful—no “thrown together by a toddler” vibes in sight.

Rosie - Full Moon -

When she invited you to a night of stargazing under the full moon, a tiny voice in your head couldn't help but whisper that she might have sinister intentions—like sacrificing you in some ritualistic feast for her colony. But those wild thoughts melted away as you arrived at the rendezvous point to find her setting up a cozy scene with a telescope and blankets, ready for a night of the moon and stars.

She whipped up a delightful picnic that catered to both your cravings, complete with snacks as varied as the stars above. As you snuggled into the blankets, the chill of the night felt invigorating rather than off-putting. With each passing hour, you watched the sky transform while sharing the latest gossip and secrets, laughter echoing into the night.

The friend date turned out to be nothing short of magical. As dawn began to break, you both reluctantly packed up, yawning but utterly satisfied. She beamed joyfully, thrilled that you had chosen to spend the night exploring the cosmos and each other’s thoughts. It was a night of friendship that was as charming as it was entertaining.

Vaggie - Hay Rides -

You were buzzing with excitement to take Vaggie on an unforgettable adventure! Ever since she and Charlie became an official couple, it had been a challenge to carve out some quality friend time. So, when Charlie graciously offered you both a day to yourselves, you practically flew out the door! Standing in the dusklit field with cash in hand, you couldn’t help but tug Vaggie onto the hayride, giggles bubbling up as you set off on the great ride around a farm.

As the ride bounced along, it took a moment, but soon Vaggie’s initial hesitation melted away, replaced by a radiant smile that mirrored your own excitement. The small farm around you was a whimsical blend of charm and spookiness, with enchanting decorations that made the whole experience feel like a Halloween fairytale. You could see the joy in her eyes, and it warmed your heart to know she was glad to be there.

Once you both hopped off the hayride and snagged some delicious treats for the trek back to the hotel, light banter flowed easily between you two. It felt like old times, and Vaggie expressed her happiness at rekindling a friendship you once feared was lost. She made it clear that she was eager to put in the effort to spend more time together, and the promise of future adventures filled you with anticipation.

Lute - Bonfires -

Lute wasn’t one to slack off—training was her life’s mantra. But when the exorcists practically begged for a Halloween party, it was Adam who ultimately nudged her out of her comfort zone and into the outdoor festivities. You, her best friend, were the first to greet her with a grin, pulling her toward the bonfire where you knew the chaos would be at a minimum.

As you settled down, the crackling flames and the earthy scent of burning wood created a cozy backdrop for your conversation. You and Lute dove into discussions about new training techniques and strategizing battle plans for upcoming exterminations, your voices mingling with the night air. The only interruption came from Adam himself, who swung by with his usual enthusiasm, trying to coax you both into his quirky game of hide and seek. You exchanged knowing glances and politely declined, choosing instead to savor the peaceful moment.

When the party finally wound down, the scene was a chaotic tapestry of friends sprawled out in various states of slumber, with tents holding those lucky enough to make it to shelter. But you and Lute, the dedicated fighters, remained wide awake, the smoky aroma of the campfire still clinging to your clothes. As dawn broke, you plotted your playful revenge on Adam, eager to disrupt his hangover with the kind of mischief only best friends could concoct.

[erosology]

a taste of domesticity | simon "ghost" riley

❀ cw/tw: NSFT, fem reader (afab anatomy, fem pet names), established relationship, american author trying to make an english person's dialogue sound authentic, you'll have to pry blond-haired and brown-eyed simon from my cold dead hands, tooth-rotting fluff, undertones of obsession and codependency (because duh it's me), soft dom simon, thigh riding, body worship, praise, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex

❀ wc: 7,248

❀ a/n: i will never, ever apologize for writing simon as a lovesick slightly pathetic man

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Simon “Ghost” Riley during your time together, it’s that he takes his job very seriously. So seriously, in fact, he’s often too tired to do much other than eat the dinner you’ve prepared him, take a shower, and go straight to bed. Despite his demanding and hectic career path, you both find ways to spend time together—him allowing you to sit in his lap as he does paperwork, you sneaking into the shower as he gets ready for the night, him coming home early and helping you with dinner—all small things to piece together a picture of domesticity and love Simon has craved his entire life.

But sometimes, he thinks, things in the bedroom are a little…lacking.

He only has himself to blame, really, considering he chose a job that demands every bit of strength he has. But there are times when he’s looking at you, your body wrapped in one of his t-shirts and your hair thrown up into a messy bun as you’re curled up on the couch reading, and he wonders if being a butcher is really that bad.

It’s no matter, though, because as insane and hectic as his job might be, he knows, deep down, he wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re a breath of fresh air for the man who is constantly drowning in his desire to be useful, a lighthouse for the man who is constantly swimming in his failures, a safe place for him to strip himself of the wet clothing trying to cling on to this body (much like how his stormy thoughts try to cling on to him) and bask in your warmth. He’s enamored by your compassion, utterly and completely in love with your honesty, and bewitched by your loyalty—a soulmate for someone who has only ever known chaos.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❀ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

“We should have lemon garlic shrimp tonight,” you suggest to your partner, leaning against his office door frame in hopes maybe he’d look up.

Simon’s eyes don’t even leave his computer as he asks, “What’s the special occasion, love?”

“You’re home in time for dinner for the first time in a month.”

It’s a small stab, he knows it, but it still hurts nonetheless, and you can see him flinch at the blunt edges of your words. He fists clench and unclench, as if debating if he can physically fight off the sense of guilt wrapping around his broad shoulders, before he saves his report progress and shuts his computer down. His movements are always so methodical, measured, but there’s nothing measured about the way he nearly chokes on his own spit when his eyes land on your outfit. Dressed in nothing but one of his t-shirts, thigh high stockings, and a pair of panties, you look nothing short of absolutely divine, and Simon nearly has to check his pulse to make sure he hasn’t died and gone to heaven.

You gaze at him through your eyelashes, eyelids half-closed in lust and the smallest of smirks on your lips. “S’matter, Si? Cat got your tongue?”

It never fails to astound him how easily you rev him up, how you make him feel like some horny teenager on prom night trying to score with his date–clumsy words spilling from his mouth as he tries his hardest to find the magic words to part your legs, palms sweaty as they try to hold your hand, body vibrating with anticipation to see what your tongue tastes like. He’s so unbelievably attracted to you, it makes his head fuzzy with hormones and irrationality, even after all of this time together.

He’s careful as he walks from his desk to you, strong arms wrapping around your waist and his lips brushing your hair. “Are you my starter?” he asks and pinches your thigh for good measure.

You giggle at the rare show of unabashed flirtation from your normally stoic partner and reply coyly, “I could be your dessert if you behave.” Feeling rather bold, you pull him into the kitchen by his belt, and he has to bite his lip to keep the groan clawing at his mouth at bay. You’re too precious for something as barbaric as fevered kisses and frantic hands eager to rip your clothes off. Valuable crystals deserve only the most tender of hands, the most careful of eyes, handled with the utmost precision and patience, and he’s always considered himself a good gemologist.

“C’mere for a second, love,” he says as you turn your back to get started on dinner. Before you can fully turn towards him, he gently cups your jaw and tilts your face up towards his, lips ghosting each other before he finally slots his against yours. You can feel how eager he is, how much he’s holding himself back so as to not break you, so you wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss that much more. That’s all of the motivation he needs, evidently, and he’s quick to wrap your legs around his waist and place you on top of the kitchen counter. Whatever small grip he had on self-control has snapped—a hungry beast finally let free and allowed to feast however he pleases. He wants to completely devour you and keep you safe in his chest—strong bones to keep filthy, undeserving hands from touching you. One taste of you and he’s already drunk on love and all of its promises of companionship and domesticity. 

His hands tangle themselves in your hair, fingers massaging your scalp as his tongue gently prods at your mouth. That’s when you pull away, much to your disappointment, and he groans at the lewd line of spit connecting your lips. Mind hazy with lust, he tries to tilt your face towards his again, anxious to eat until all that’s left is a pile of bones and love, but you gently stop him by pressing your fingers to his mouth.

“Was I too rough?” he asks worriedly. “We can slow down, if you want. I just…miss you, is all, and you’re right about this being the first time we’ve had some time together in God knows how long. I…I know ‘s my fault, and I want to make it up to you—if you’re alright with that.”

And he looks so sincere—dark eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort, hands resting on your thighs and not daring to move, tongue nervously darting out to lick his lips, chest rising and falling with anticipation—you nearly allow him to devour you right there on the kitchen counter. But you’re determined to have a proper dinner with the man you love more than you could ever hope to comprehend. And what’s a good dinner without a nice show?

Your hands fiddle with the collar of his shirt, teeth gnawing at the inside of your cheek in hopes it’ll calm the hunger rolling around in your stomach. “You weren’t too rough, honey, I promise.” At that, you can see relief flood his features, and you gently tug on his collar so he brings his forehead down to meet yours. The pure adoration in his eyes nearly makes you choke, and you swallow down the lump of emotion that had begun to form in your throat. Simon has always been a gentle man despite his very impassive shell, never pushing you and always ready to communicate boundaries and comfort, so to see him so unraveled after a month of missing him is bringing out a masochistic side of you you’d never knew was buried underneath all of the domesticity. Still, you want to be able to enjoy him as much as possible before the moon hangs high and exhaustion begins to settle into heavy bones.

Simon mildly pulls your hand away from nervously toying with his shirt and kisses your fingers—an action that causes you to shudder with admiration. “Did I push you too much?”

“No, sweetheart. I just really, really want to have a nice dinner with you.”

Chuckling, he kisses your temple and helps you off of the counter, his hands lingering on your hips a little longer than necessary before swatting at your bottom and allowing you to begin cooking. “Then a nice dinner together we shall have.”

It’s intoxicating how much your thighs rub together as you cook dinner, how they jiggle and ripple, and Simon isn’t sure what he’s more hungry for. Your hips sway to and fo to the music—nothing inherently sexual about the movement, but his heart speeds up nonetheless. His dark eyes drink in every inch of you like a parched man in the desert, lapping up every single drop so much, he fears his stomach may burst. But it’d be worth it. It would be absolutely worth any form of torture to be able to touch you, hold you, hear you laugh, watch your lips form the syllables of his name. His greatest high, his greatest weakness, the person he’d try to find in every life after this one, the song he hums to himself when he thinks no one is around—all wrapped up in the prettiest package he has ever had the privilege of laying his eyes on.

Simon “Ghost” Riley, special forces operator trained to deal with things most people only see portrayed in overly-budgeted action movies, is absolutely hypnotized by how absolutely gorgeous you are.

“Didn’t know I was getting dinner and a show,” he nearly purrs at you as you pour him a glass of bourbon. Kentucky, of course.

“Hmm?” You innocently cock your head. “I’m just making you dinner, silly, a very normal thing.”

“Whatever you say, love.”

Lust and hormones roll off of your body in tidal waves, nearly drowning the man under the chaotic waters, but he wouldn’t mind, not really. He could spend hours, days, weeks floating around in all of your oceans, exploring every part of you until he has a clear map ingrained in his brain. He’s in love with your heart, in lust with your body, and enamored by your mind.

A warmth only alcohol can provide spreads across his body, and Simon Riley, known by even his closest friends as stern and forthright, dares to relax in his chair, his legs stretched out in front of him and his eyes half-closed as they watch you sway to the music. At times like this, Simon is reminded of what it’s like to be naïve again, excited, ready to face the world and all of its possibilities. He’s content, basking in the security you provide him with and the knowledge that he has you to call home. He’s safe, and that’s something he’ll never, ever take for granted.

“You look happy,” you giggle, taking note of the pink flush to his face.

He hums, and in the blink of an eye he’s got his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your head. His lips brush against your hair, fingers fiddling with the t-shirt clinging to your body, and he swears he could stay like this forever if you allowed him to. He thinks this is what paradise must be like—his soulmate wrapped in his arms, the scent of delicious food hanging in the air, music softly playing over the sound of your giggles, his heart let free from its cage and soaring in the air.

“Must be because I am,” he utters into your hair. “I really, really am, sweetheart.”

And though he’s never been one for grandiose displays of affection, he finds himself spinning you around your shared kitchen, strong hands pressed into the small of your back and swaying your bodies to and fro, a makeshift ballroom squished in between the living room and his office.

Your hand fists his shirt, giggles bubbling out of your lips—the most beautiful sound he’ll ever hear. “Simon Riley! What has gotten into you?”

The smile he bears is a gentle one full of love and admiration, and you swear you feel your heart squeeze in your chest. “I’m very lucky to have you. In fact…” And then, his lips are ghosting over yours and his hands are clutching at your hips, desperate to feel you close but scared to admit how much he needs you. “I’d wager I’m the luckiest bastard on this shithole planet.”

“I think you’d lose,” you whisper back, a joyous light dancing in your eyes. “Because I’d wager I’m the luckiest person on this shithole planet to have you.”

He kisses you before he can stop himself, before he can second guess whether or not he’s worthy of your lips, before either of you can begin to decipher what love is and why it heals as much as it hurts. He kisses you and tries his hardest to commit dedication to memory. He kisses you and forgets what the definition of pain is and all he can feel is your fingers carding through his hair. He’s consumed by you—the smell of your shampoo stubbornly clinging to your hair, the feeling of your heart hammering against his, your eyelashes brushing against his cheek, the little squeal you let out when he picks you up, everything, everything everything. All he wants is this moment right here tattooed into his brain, burned into his eyelids so every time he closes his eyes all he can see is bliss and sunlight filtering through.

And though he’s the one with the infamous appetite, he swears he’d crack his ribcage open and allow you to feast as much as you need to. What is love if not all-consuming—cannibalistic desires flooding empty veins until the need to eat is unbearable? Hungry teeth clash against a bare tongue, and he groans loudly into your greedy mouth.

“Simon,” you gasp, “the food—”

“Can wait,” he finishes for you, and you both find yourselves stumbling into a chair. Quickly, he sits down with you on his lap, careful as to not hurt his precious meal. He can feel your cunt throb against his thigh and, god, he needs to eat, eat, eat before he goes completely mad. His thumb draws circles against the growing wet spot on your panties, a groan reverberating in his chest and deep eyes rolling to the back of his head. He sees you’re wearing the pink lacy panties with a white bow that always drive him up the walls of your shared home, and he has to fight the animalistic urge to rip them clean off of your body. No, he won’t be rough no matter how hungry he is. He’s not a beast void of all humanity. He’s simply a man with an empty stomach and the prettiest meal sitting on his lap, and his teeth miss how your skin feels pinched between them.

He easily slides your panties off, an expert in disarming prey, and brings them up to his nose, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Simon,” you moan out at the sight. “Simon, please—”

His hand strikes at your bottom before you can finish your sentence. “Ride my thigh, love.” And he pockets your panties, promising himself he’ll give them back one day.

His big, calloused hands grip your hips as you drag your pussy across his thick thigh, your juices coating his pants but he doesn’t even care. How can he when you look so precious moaning and pleading on his thigh, shaky fingers grasping at his tie to gain some sense of balance? His brown eyes gaze down at you with a predatory light, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth as your grinding becomes more and more erratic.

His voice is strained when he speaks, husky, a caged animal frustrated at not being able to roam free. “That desperate for me, hm? So impatient…” But he can’t deny the erection swelling in his boxers, nor can he deny how hypnotizing it is watching how your brow furrows in concentration with every swivel of your hips. The squelching sound of your drooling cunt is downright filthy, but it’s so intoxicating to the man who gets drunk off of your submission. Adam’s apple bobbing, he tries his hardest to swallow down all of the primal urges flooding his body, to allow you to continue chasing your high, but he can’t stop himself from planting a kiss on your exposed shoulder, nor can he stop himself from resting his forehead upon that very same shoulder. His arms wrap around your torso, bringing your body closer to his so your chests are flushed together, and he groans when he feels your leg brush against his aching cock.

“Si…,” you gasp.

“Shh, just let me do this, darling,” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck. “I want to be close to you.”

Tears poke at the corner of your eyes and your throat constricts, a small gasp leaving your lips before he kisses them gently. A vulnerable Simon is a rare one, but you’re so parched for the smallest taste of intimacy you’re nearly afraid of draining him completely. Still, you wrap your arms around his neck and quicken your pace—anything to keep him close, to keep his face buried in the crook of your neck and his hands stroking at your spine. Shaky fingers bury themselves in short blond hair, pulling at the strands and his heart strings. Trembling thighs squeeze around his own muscular one, and he feels just how hard your heart is slamming itself against your ribcage. What should’ve been an act of climacteric horniness is truly an act of desperate love, depraved intimacy that has been simmering under the surface—two people trying to find themselves buried in each other’s chests.

“Si…” His name rolls off of your tongue so easily, a sound that floods his veins with a warmth his blood couldn’t possibly supply. “Si, please!” Fingernails dig into his back, and he knows just how dire it is for you to feel all of him, but, fuck, he needs to hear you beg a bit more. He needs to be reminded that yes, he is worthy of love, and yes, even with a heart as scarred as his, he is capable of loving back. He needs his ears to be flooded with the sound of unhinged adoration and unwavering dedication. He needs to run his hands all across your skin until he’s able to commit romance to memory and he can’t bear the thought of touching anything else.

Pulling his head back, his amber eyes search your face, fingers gently tracing your bottom lip, and the sheer intensity of his expression has your movements slowing. You’re surprised to see him hesitant, unsure, because in a world of war and uncertainty, Simon Riley is a man made of osmium. He can’t afford the luxury of insecurity in a market that feeds off of humanity. But here he is, one hand keeping your hips stilled as his other one languidly traces all of the bumps and curves of your body, his brow furrowed in concentration as if afraid of breaking you with the slightest of pressure, his eyes full of worry.

“Si—”

“You know I love you, right?” he uncharacteristically cuts you off, his tone steady despite the tremble in his hand.

You answer without missing a beat. “Of course I do. I love you, too, honey.”

He nods, moreso to himself than you, and finally meets your eyes. You’re surprised to see the fire burning in them, how his soft eyes look nearly deadly as he wraps his arms around your chest and brings your body flush against his once again. “Then we’re going to do this the right way.” And before you can ask what he means by that, he lifts your body up with ease, earning a surprised squeak from you. His lips attach themselves against your shoulder, and you wrap your legs around his waist to allow him to carry you easier. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he confesses softly between kisses. “You keep me grounded, sweetheart. You keep me sane.”

Longing strangles you and you can’t help but shutter at his raw declaration of love. Simon reminding you how much you mean to him isn’t rare in the least bit–he’s rather forthcoming about his feelings after many months of you teaching him how to loosen his tongue–but to hear it said so tenderly, as if your ears are made of paper and he spits razors with every word, is something worth crying over.

And you do.

Glistening crystals poke at the corner of your eyes as he tenderly lays your body on the bed, and it’s at this moment Simon Riley thinks you’re something worth dying over. His fingers swipe at your tears, rough palm resting against your cheek, and you nuzzle your face into the callouses, a soft smile on your lips and galaxies in your eyes. He’s hopelessly, painfully, undeniably in love with you, and he absolutely hates himself for neglecting you so much.

“Sweetheart,” he begins, voice strained with love and weakness. How can he look into your eyes and apologize for being a horrible partner? You—with your patience and kindness and strength and dedication and selflessness—you deserve better, better than being left alone to wonder if he’s safe and alive. Better than brisk pecks to your forehead after a thoughtfully prepared breakfast. Better than rushed showers and swift promises of love before a day of unguaranteed nights. Better than him. Better than anything someone like him could ever hope to offer you.

And of course—because you’re you, you, you—you place a kiss on his palm. It’s an innocent enough gesture. A quick press of your lips to the palm of his hand. It’s something that he normally wouldn’t think twice about, something he would smile about and then kiss your cheek for. Definitely not something worth gasping over. Not something worth losing his breath over. Not something worth the shudder that wracks his body. Not something worth splitting his soul in two over. But, as he hovers over you, he can feel his shell crumbling away until all that’s left is the part of his heart he’s been saving for someone like you. He can’t breathe, can’t think, not when you’re kissing the same hand that has killed, that has failed, that has been scarred and covered in blood. And then you’re kissing the pulse in his wrist and then his forearm and then his bicep and before he can even warn you to save your kisses for the worthy, you’re kissing his shoulder in the same tender manner he was kissing yours moments ago.

He feels your breath dance across his neck and refuses to move until you give him permission.

“Simon,” you whisper, and his ears ring at how much affection you place in the syllables of his name. “I love you more than I could ever hope to fathom. I don’t think you realize how much you keep me sane.”

“Sweet—”

You silence him with a kiss to his neck, humming at the steady beat in his jugular. “You’re my comfort. You’re my safe space to be myself with no worries about what’s going to happen tomorrow because you’re prepared for anything. You allow me to be neurotic and moody and a ball of stress without judging me or trying to baby me. You understand that sometimes I need to be neurotic and moody and a ball of stress. You’re caring and thoughtful and straightforward and I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

You can’t be real. Even the holiest of heavens couldn’t craft something as angelic as you, and yet here you are, touching your forehead to his and filling his lungs with your stardust, divine hand caressing his cheek, sephric eyes holding so much unfiltered love he can’t stop himself from kissing you. His lips are tender at first, trying their best to memorize immortality and savoring how ethereal you taste, but when you place your hand on his neck, he feels himself giving into his mortal instincts. Using his body weight to his advantage, he lowers you back down to the mattress, never daring to break the kiss. His hands begin to tug at the shirt clinging to your torso, and you’ve never been quicker to dispose of clothes.

“So beautiful,” he mumbles against your lips, hands grazing across your thighs and squeezing them appreciatively. “You’re so beautiful, darling, do you know that?”

A sudden bashfulness warms your body, and you fight the urge to hide behind your hands. “You make me feel it,” you reply shyly and try to pull his face back down to yours, but he stops you by kissing the tips of your fingers. Pouting, you try to grab his face again, but again, he simply catches your hand and kisses your palm, his eyes resting on yours and full of unadulterated dedication. “C’mere, I wanna kiss.”

“You’ll get plenty of those, love, don’t worry.”

Forever and ever, he silently promises himself, I’m going to kiss you forever. And, keeping his promise like the dutiful man he is, he kisses his way up your arm, every touch of his lips measured and careful, until they gently brush against your cheek. You giggle at his breath tickling your neck, and he swears he feels his heart collapse in on itself like some pathetic parody of a supernova. This right here—you stripped down to your underwear and allowing him to love every inch of your supple skin, him stripped down to the bone and being forced to let go of control–is something he used to fantasize about, something he never ever thought himself worthy of, but when you look up at him with your eyes full of trust and dedication, he can’t stop himself from drinking in every second of it. His lips brush against your neck, right above the jugular so he can feel how your heart rate spikes, and then your collarbone, and then his tongue gently swipes across your nipple, earning a soft gasp from you.

“Simon,” you whine, “no teasing, please.”

His fingers brush against your cheek, lips still attached to your breast, while his other hand snakes down to your cunt. “‘m not teasing, darling, I promise. Just want to show every part of you some love.”

He’s an expert at unraveling you, at lightly grazing his fingers just above where you need him most, at dragging his tongue across your peddled nipple, at nipping and sucking at your breasts until you’re bucking against his hand. Even after all of these past weeks of quickies and fevered shower sex, Simon Riley is nothing short of a master at making you moan out his name. His penchant for precision is often deemed a tedious mindset, something to hold him back from admiring the big picture, but it’s a gift from the heavens above when it has you a writhing mess underneath him. Your juices are coating his hand and his ears are full of your vows of love and lust, but it still isn’t enough for him. He needs all of you, all of your tears, all of your gasps and whines, all of your shaking thighs wrapped around him, needs to feel skin brushing skin and the promise of loving and being loved forever.

Your shaking hands bury themselves in his hair, pulling and tugging at the strands and causing him to groan against your skin. “Simon, f-fuck, you’re so good.”

A moan stutters in his chest at the unexpected praise. He needs to feast on everything that is you until he’s full. Without so much as a warning, he kisses your forehead once more before throwing your legs over his shoulders in one swift movement. You open your mouth to protest that he deserves a little love too, but his lips are already attached to your throbbing clit and all you can do is cry out his name. You can feel another groan reverberate in his chest, his hands kneading at your plush thighs and pulling you closer, closer, closer, until his nose is buried in your pubic hair, and he looks nothing short of a man utterly in love with the person beneath him.

“Simon! Oh my fucking god, Simon!”

He slides a finger inside of your fluttering hole, and then another, curling them and scissoring just the way that has your thighs twitching around his head. Brown eyes roll to the back of his head, and he somehow manages to bury his face even further into your pussy. “Like that, baby? You like it just like that?”

“Yes, Simon, yes, please!”

“Fucking hell, darling, I could stay here forever.” Forever doesn’t seem like a long time as long as you’re by his side…

Simon isn’t sure what he’s more drunk on—the alcohol he indulged in earlier, or the juices dripping from your cunt. He’s intoxicated on submission and domination, lust and love, every saccharine memory with you in the past and every hopeful wish with you in the future, every broken piece of you and every picture he’s painted on your skin. He’s drunk on you. All of your moans and pants and pleas for more, more, more—eat until you’re full, Simon! Completely devour until all that’s left is an illustration of what love is!

He was never an indulgent man until you came into his life and discovered just how large his stomach truly is.

His tongue draws languid circles on your clit as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt, his half-lidded ambers watching the rise and fall of your chest. Once he finds a good rhythm, he brings his free hand up to pinch and roll your nipple between his nimble fingers, and you’re sure this is what heaven must feel like.

Simon Riley is almost certain you’re an angel in disguise, but you’re starting to suspect he’s a god who’s too humble to admit his omnipotence. How else would he know exactly how to curl his fingers just right to get your thighs to shake? How else would he know how much you love when he flattens his tongue and slowly drags it along your clit? How else would he know to kiss your inner thigh as he takes a minute to catch his breath and rest his jaw? He looks up at you with ambers filled to the brim with worship and adoration, but you swear you can see a flicker of greed lingering somewhere in there—obsession disguised as fascination, possession parading as love, anything to keep you by his side.

“Look at you, so wet for me,” he coos up at you, using his fingers to spread your pussy lips and admire the mess between your legs. “Do I make you feel that good, sweetheart? Can’t help but fucking drip for me, hm? So wet for me, baby, so good for me.”

“S-S-Simon!”

“Keep moaning my name, sweetheart,” he groans as he brings his mouth to your cunt again, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the tightness of his pants. “Fuck—scream it, I don’t care. Just wanna keep hearing you.”

“Simon fucking Riley, please, you feel s-so good!”

Taunt skin is pulled across knuckles as you grip the bed sheets underneath you. Eyes rolling to the back of your skull, thighs uncontrollably shaking around his head, chest heaving as if you just ran a marathon, sweat clinging to your skin, cunt throbbing rhythmically along with the pumping of your partner’s fingers, you can feel your orgasm swiftly approaching. Simon must be able to tell also, given the way his licks to your clit are becoming more and more frantic and he’s starting to goad you on.

Desperation is laced with fascination as he begs, “Go on, baby, it’s okay. Cum on my fingers. Cum for me, please, let me make you feel good. I know you can, love. Just cum for me.”

As if under his spell, you feel the control you had been trying to grip on to snap and unadulterated pleasure crash over your body, leaving you heaving and twitching underneath his touch. He easily helps you through your high, gentle as he kisses your thighs and slowly eases his fingers out of your throbbing cunt. Crystals poke at the corner of your eyes, causing them to look like stained glass on a sunny day, and Simon is sure to say his prayers as he kisses them away.

“So, so gorgeous,” he whispers between the brushes of his lips. “So pretty when you’re cumming for me. Fuck, love, you’re so beautiful.”

Relishing the praise he’s pouring on your skin, your shaking fingers begin to tug at the shirt clinging to his chest. He tries to stop your ministrations and tell you that predators typically don’t get help from their prey, but you shush him and tell him that not every prey is helpless just like not every predator is invincible. He watches your hands fumble with bemusement, and after a moment of struggling you decide to flip your bodies over so you’re now straddling him.

He’s surprised to say the least, eyes widening and body struggling to regain control, but after a kiss to his forehead and a nip at his ear, he begins to think that having control isn’t what it’s all cracked up to be. Besides, why would he deny himself the perfect view of your body—of your breasts heaving in front of him, your pulse thumping in the hollow of your throat, of your neck exposed and ready to be bitten? Why would he deny himself of the feast before him, coated in sweat and glowing with love?

“Off,” you mumble against his neck and tug at his pants. “Off, please, Simon, take them off.”

Desperation drips from every syllable that falls from your intoxicating mouth, and he’s quick to dispose of the pants that restrict him. Strong fingers cup your jaw and bring your face in front of his, hungry ambers drinking in the sight of adoration and lust. His lips slot against yours, hands grasping at your hips and dragging your cunt across his hard cock, and he swears this is the sweetest form of torture.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I want you to look at me while you put me inside of you. C’mon, baby, don’t be shy now.”

Your trembling hands find his dick, and you have to stop to admire the masterpiece laying underneath you—a pretty red head beaded with precum, a prominent vein running along the side of his shaft and wrapping until it meets with a tuft of blond pubic hair, stomach muscles contracting with every breath, pink-flushed cheeks on a stern face, a naked chest rising and falling with anticipation. He’s beautiful. He’s everything every artist has tried to capture on blank canvases and fell just short of. He’s ethereally gorgeous but also alarmingly human. He’s an angelic face with blood-stained hands. He’s Simon “Ghost” Riley, and you’ve never been more proud to be able to call him yours.

Bashful eyes meet greedy ones and you’re lowering yourself on his cock before you can begin to ask yourself who’s more vulnerable in this moment—the prey on the pedestal or the predator whose appetite can only be satiated by one person. The swollen tip of his cock rests easily inside of you, and right when you’re about to start rocking your hips, he sits up so your chests are flushed together, much like how you were in the kitchen.

His lips brush against your shoulder, and you’re reminded of how gentle he can be despite the calluses on his palms. “I want you close, baby, please. Need to feel all of you. Every inch, inside and out. Will you let me do that, sweetheart?”

A thick blanket of submission wraps itself around your shoulders, and your head is nodding before you even give it permission to. “Want all of you, Si! Need all of you! Jus’ wan’ you.”

He begins to rock his hip, bones digging into plush flesh, and swears he can see flashes of golden gates with each thrust. “That’s it, baby. Such a good girl—my good girl.”

“S-Simon!”

Watching your breasts bounce as he bucks into you is hypnotizing, and he has to dig his fingers into your thighs to keep himself from bucking into you wildly. No, he refuses to be the beast he keeps buried down. It’s taken years of self-discipline and self-discovery to keep it locked away. He can’t unleash it now during a moment of vulnerability. But there’s something so tantalizing about you, so tempting and delicious that causes his teeth to sharpen and his mouth to flood with drool…

“Roll your hips, darling,” Simon whispers into your neck. “Be my good girl and roll your hips.”

And like the obedient girl you are, you listen, clit brushing against his pelvis and sending delicious waves of pleasure over your body. He thinks he’s dragging you down to hell with him, but you’re certain this is what heaven feels like. The love of your life beneath you, a light blanket of sweat over his body, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tries not to overindulge, his heart slamming against his ribcage in a frenzied attempt to reach you, his hands touching every inch of you they can reach, his lips kissing away the tears that stream down your face… No, this is better than heaven. With his hunger and your curiosity, you’ve both managed to find a place better than the promiseland, better than anything any god or mortal could even begin to hope to comprehend, a place where he’s free to feast on you as much as he wants and you can bury yourself in his ribcage.

Strong fingers slip under your chin and force you to look in a pair of shining ambers, and you swear Simon has never looked more beautiful than in this moment. “Kiss me, sweetheart,” he pleads, his hips stuttering.

Starving lips come crashing together, and it takes every ounce of self-control to not feed until his stomach ruptures.

And the worst part of it all is he knows you would allow him to.

You would absolutely allow him to eat, eat, eat, Simon, sharpen your teeth and bite as hard as you want! You’ll never go hungry as long as you’re with me! Just eat, goddammit, eat, eat, eat! Eat all of me until we aren’t sure where you end and I begin! Eat until I’m swimming in your veins! Just fucking eat!

Simon buries his face into the crook of your neck in hopes that maybe he can get through the night without any bloodshed, struggling to keep himself under control. But you have other plans. Lacing your fingers through his blond hair, you guide his face to one of your breasts in a silent plea for him to suck on it as you ride him. He obeys, of course. How could he not when you look so delicious covered in sweat and bouncing on his cock?

With teeth as sharp as diamonds, he tugs onto your nipple, and you cry out his name until it’s all you can dare to think about. “Fuck, baby,” he swears, one of his hands massaging your other breast, “you’re so beautiful. You know that right, darling? Have I ever told you how beautiful you are as you ride me?”

Your thighs begin to shake, and it’s then you both know you’re at the brink of unadulterated pleasure. Mustering as much strength as you can, you slam your hips down on his in frantic motions, feel the head of his cock prodding at your cervix, and tears poke at the corners of your eyes in anticipation of the feast about to come.

“So close, baby,” your partner moans, “so fucking close. Just a little more, love. Can you do that for me? Can my good girl ride me just a little bit more and make us both cum?”

“Y-Yes! Anything for you, Simon! Jus’ wanna be your good girl…”

Your whines and moans become more and more warbled the closer you get to your orgasm, and Simon is drinking every ounce of your submission. Unable to maintain self-control in the face of greed, sharp teeth pinch your nipple, the swell of your breasts, your shoulder, your neck, your jaw—anywhere he can feed and hear you squeal out in delight, just so long as he eats, eats, eats. Every time enamel pinches plush flesh, he can feel a piece of you slither down his throat and land in his ever-growing stomach—somewhere you’ve learned to consider home. Whispers of praise and love dance across your skin, his hands running up and down your spine as if coaxing you to give him just a little more of yourself, just a bit more so he can sedate the beast and continue to be the practical man you know and love.

“So fucking good for me,” he moans into the crook in your sweaty neck, his cock beginning to throb with the need to release. “That’s my girl, just a little more. I’m so close, love.”

Shaky hands bury themself into thick hair, and you pull until you can hear a hiss leave his lips. “Please, Simon, cum with me, please!”

“My baby wants me to cum with her, hmm?” he teases, albeit weakly. He’s losing control, you both know it. His abs flex with strain, his brow is shining with sweat, and his lips wobble with weakness, and yet he’s fighting to have you cum first just so he can taste how sweet you are on his tongue before he’s no longer human.

“Yes, please! I’m begging you, Simon, cum with me!”

“O-O-Oh, fuck...” Though he’s never been much for blind optimism, a part of him hoped maybe he finally could have control over his desires around you. A foolish thing to think, really, when you call to the beast buried in his ribcage so easily… “I’m gonna cum, darling, cum with me!”

And you do, almost embarrassingly quick. With your arms wrapped around each other, your face buried in his chest and his buried in your hair, your hips clumsily crashing together, you both cum together loudly, lewdly, your names burned into each other’s throats and echoing off of your bedroom walls. 

“You did so well for me, baby,” he mumbles against your shoulder, his lips fumbling to kiss everywhere his teeth sunk into. “I love you so much.”

You sigh and lean into his kisses as much as you can, arms still hanging loosely around his neck and your lungs trying to pull in oxygen. “I love you too, sweetheart, so, so much.”

“C’mon, I’ll go prepare a bath for us.” Gently, he untangles your limbs and lifts you in his strong arms. With one last kiss to your forehead, he begins to make his way to the bathroom, you curled up against his chest and listening to how hard his heart is hammering.

And somewhere between the sound of running water and satisfied giggles, Simon swears he hears a growl coming from his chest—low and threatening, a warning he only has so much time before he loses control and he can no longer contain how he feels about you.

And, for the first time since he discovered that wretched beast, he thinks he might be okay with that.

[readychilledwine]

Champagne Papí

Summary - Rhys just can't help but celebrate your recent accomplishments in the most extreme ways

Warnings - Alcohol, Mentions of wing clipping, Feyssian, drunk shenanigans, and sexual references/jokes

🎂Birthday Masterlist🎂

✨️Rhysand Masterlist✨️Master Masterlist✨️

All you had wanted to celebrate your new research publication was a quiet night with your mate and the Inner Circle circle, and Heavens knew you deserved it.

Years spent researching from dusk to dawn, countless hours with papers surrounding you with notes crossed out, rewritten, x'd out again, and then circled aggressively. Being a daughter of Day made you meticulous, a perfectionist, and frankly, too smart for anyone else's good. Helion being your uncle only made that worse.

You were practically raised in his lap, reading from a young age, asking him big questions, and only taking a nap once your curiosity had been sated. It had turned you into a scholar, and one the Night Court was desperate for once Helion shared you were near a breakthrough regarding the repair of clipped wings, but you just needed someone with wings to try it on.

Emerie was a shining example of your hard work. She was glowing next to Mor, repaired wings fluttering in delight as they were examined. You had found a surgical procedure that, in combination with healing magic, allowed you to reconnect the tissue and for everything to regrow. You had a small group of females you started with and all of them healed beautifully. Then from there, it was a camp of females, all housed away from their homes for a month while you and your team worked what they all thought was a miracle.

A hand brushed your waist, pulling you close and out of your thoughts. “You deserve all of this,” the soft purr of Rhysand's voice grounded your nerves. “My intelligent, beautiful, selfless mate.”

“The party is a little much.”

He scoffed, drinking his champagne before looking at you. “It isn't enough. What did you expect? A quiet gathering?”

Males and females were dressed to the nines in their finest threads, a lavish dinner was served, you had been forced to give a speech, and now drinks were flowing freely as other scholars and healers looked over the display of your notes and research, as well as looking at the physical evidence of repaired wings in graceful coordinated gowns paid for by the High Lord.

“Do you think they're happy?”A brow raised at you in a silent question. “The females, I mean. Do you think they're happy?”

“I think you've given them something back they thought they would have lost forever.” Rhys grabbed two more glasses of champagne, handing one to you. “The trauma is still there, but you will be able to single handedly create a new legion of warriors, heal little ones who had their birthright stripped from them, and now anti-clipping laws can be pushed harder. You've made it so there is a damage measurement, and therefore consequences other than imprisonment.” You took a sip of the beverage, savoring the flavor and soft bubbles. “I spared no expense. Only your favorites for a night meant to honor you, darling.”

You leaned up, kissing his cheek. “Thank you, Rhys.”

“Yeah, thank you Rhys.” You two turned to see Cassian with long legs thrown over his shoulder, high heels held in his hand as bare feet danced. “Feyre here decided that she needed, how many glasses, baby?”

He turned so you two could see his very flushed mate, her smile huge and eyes glassy. “Only 8.”

Cassian turned again only to glare at Rhys, “She called you her sugar male”

Rhys snorted, all signs of the High Lord gone as his shoulders relaxed and his smile grew. “What does that even mean?”

“You give her all the nice things,” another annoyed voice approached. Azriel was also glaring, Nesta on his back giggling as well. “Ness agreed.”

Rhysand felt his jaw drop, making you laugh, “This was for my mate!”

“Yes, well, Feyre and Ness decided tonight they are also your mates,” Azriel smirked as Nesta bit his ear before moving to kiss his neck. “What is it y/n calls you? Ness couldn't remember.”

“Champagne papí,” you answered while laughing. The nickname was an old joke. One passed along to all the new members of the Inner Circle.

Before Rhysand and you felt that bond snap when he returned home, he had courted you. Rhysand gave you expensive shoes, jewelry, books worth a pretty penny.

All because he wanted you to have the very best. And when he discovered you hated wine, but loved the bubbly, he started buying the most expensive bottles he could find.

Rhysand hated being called daddy, hated when he heard that name used between grown males and their partners.

But papí? Papí you could call him all day long. The way the native language of Day rolled off your tongue made him shiver and it stuck.

Rhysand rolled his eyes, “Papí is reserved for my delightful darling.”

Feyre's feet were still dancing to the music, her hair swaying behind Cassian, “And me!”

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh as your mate sighed. His brothers both wished you a goodnight, leaving with their intoxicated mates. Rhysand was back to leading you through the party, letting other scholars stop you and ask their questions.

You were exhausted by the time you two collapsed in your shared bed, the soft silks welcoming you like gentle caress. But your mate clearly wasn't.

Rhysand's hands found their way into your hair, fingers digging at your scalp and sending a wave of chills down your spine. “You are the most amazing female I have ever met,” he whispered into your ear. “You so selflessly spent decades solving an issue your court wasn't even involved in. You've given so many females their freedom back. I can never repay you for this.”

“Rhys, it wasn't about repayment-”

“I know, darling. I know,” he continued massaging your scalp, fingers twisting your hair in the natural curl pattern. “Let me at least say that I love you then. That I am beyond proud that I have the honor of being your husband, mate, and High Lord.”

He watched your lips twitched up, “I got you a present. I wanted to wait until we were alone,” his hands left your head, making you whine as he stood and went to the closet you two shared.

Rhysand returned with a small black box, sitting next to you, “Neve out did herself with this, my darling.”

You sat up and took the box from him. The velvet was her signature black importanted from a fabric maker over in Scythia. You opened it slowly, laughing as you saw the stardust cut single champagne diamond centered on a delicate platinum chain. It was exquisite. Possibly one of the clearest diamonds with the clearest cuts you had ever seen.

“A champagne diamond from your champagne papí,” he purred in your ear as he put it around your neck. “And right now, I want to see you in nothing but this.”

He laid you back down, kissing you softly, and the true celebration party began.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites

[wolfiesmoon]

Deal or no deal

Azul x gn!reader

finally writing for my baby boy azul, i can't believe it took this long since i am an azul girlie myself

a very funny silly definitely innocent business man methinks

"First, tell me what you desire. We can take it from there." Azul smiled slyly, interlocking his hands as he leaned on his elbows.

You were currently located in his private office, about to sign a contract with him. You had to think long and hard about coming to him, but you figured that if anyone can fulfill your wish, it would be Azul. You feel kind of guilty asking him for this in the first place.

You see, you've been in love with Azul for a good amount of time now, but are too afraid to make a move. You beat yourself up for being such a coward every day, and even moreso right now because you're about to ask him if he can make "someone you've had your eye on" fall in love with you. You're not sure what exactly he does to make it happen, but you hope it's doable without much instructions on your end. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Though you still feel like a bit of a villain for doing this at all.

Your guilt and nerves are probably showing in your body language, too. Which you suppose only makes Azul more interested in learning what you desire. You can practically feel the grins on the Leech twin's faces, too. It's like they genuinely like seeing you nervous and scared.

Why are they even here, anyways?

"I want... someone to fall in love with me. Someone who I've had my eye on for a while now." you fidget with your fingers, unable to look Azul in the eye when you say this.

"That's..." he tried his best to hold back from laughing but a snort escaped from his lips anyways. "Forgive the reaction, your wish was just... unexpected."

You suppose he thought your wish would be more sinister because of your body language. Or way more embarrasing. But still...

"Ehhhh, I didn't know Shrimpy was in love..." Floyd's eyes were slightly widened but his creepy grin was still as wide as ever. "It is quite surprising, indeed." Jade added on. By the suspicously calm way they're acting, you have no idea if the twins already know about your little crush and are just acting along or if they're actually surprised.

"Yeah, uhhh, I guess that's it?..." you had no idea what else to tell him. You just hope that this can be over as soon as possible since things are getting really awkward.

"I can certainly do something for you. Tell me, what is their name? They attend this school, I assume." Azul seemed delighted. Probably because that means he'll get free labour from you as a collateral. You don't have any magic to offer him, after all.

"T... their name? Is that required?" You froze up. There's no way you can say that. That would be the worst way for your feelings to get outed, ever. You suppose it makes sense, though. He can't do anything if he doesn't know who you're in love with.

"But of course it is. Don't worry, judgement has no place in business affairs." He smiled reassuringly at you. You felt your face heat up. No, no, nope. You can't do this. Not like this.

"You know what.... Never mind. I can't do it." You abruptly stood up from the cushy office chair, apologising curtly before practically bolting out of his office.

"Oh my god, that was so bad... oh my god..." you mumbled to yourself when you were out of Octavinelle. You just royally embarrased yourself in front of your crush.

Was it obvious?

.

"What was that about?" Floyd pouted at the direction of the door, which you left slightly ajar in your panic to escape the situation as soon as possible.

"Hmmm... how odd." Jade looked deep in thought about something.

"This is why I tell you to stop coming to my office when I'm trying to make a deal. You scared the poor thing off." Azul shook his head dissaprovingly.

"That wasn't our fault. Shrimpy was acting super weird the whole time anyways." Floyd defended himself and his brother.

"I suppose you're right..." Azul took a deep breath, seemingly... relieved? Not about the fact you ran away, but still relieved for some reason.

Jade made a realisation. "Oh. I see. I see."

He smiled knowingly at Azul, who raised a brow. "What is it? Is there something on my face?"

"No, it's nothing. Don't worry."

Azul gets the feeling that Jade knows something, but doesn't want to tell him.

"If you say so."

[sitp-recs]

do you have any recs for drarry + workplace romance?

I definitely do, one of my favourite tropes! This list is strongly focused on office romance and as you can see it got a bit out of hand so I’m gonna link two additional rec lists that might interest you: sports AU and Quidditch fics. Enjoy!!!

Measure My Lordship With Thine Vulgar Aye by @starquestingfordrarry (M, 1k)

Draco buys some Muggle magnets for the office.

Coded Office Missives by carpemermaid (E, 2.5k)

They had an arrangement. Malfoy would send a coded memo when he needed Harry. He knew to tell his secretary to hold his appointments, and lock the door after he arrived. It was a game they started when they were just starting their careers at the Ministry; it’s something they’ve kept up all this time.

The Keepers by RenVeree (T, 3.6k)

In the Rare Books Department of the Ministry of Magic, Draco tends to unique texts and, on occasion, a certain Unspeakable.

Graffiti and Insomnia by SilentAuror (M, 4k)

Harry can't seem to sleep these days. Perhaps it's the boredom of his office job, but all that changes with a bit of graffiti in the office bathroom one day.

Never Gonna Give You Up by InnerLilith (E, 5k)

Five times Harry rickrolls Draco and one time Draco gets him back.

Like This and Like This (Dreams of Lace) by @primavera-cerezos (E, 6k)

Harry gets an accidental peek. He can’t think of anything else.

Say the words / then stay around by Teatrolley (NR, 6k)

They’ve been together for a while when Harry decides that he wants to try the Auror Office again. What he doesn’t consider is the effects the work might have on the two of them. But, then again, maybe those effects don’t have to be all bad?

Interdepartmental Memos by GoldenTruth813, Henndra (E, 6k)

What do you get when GoldenTruth813 plays Harry and Henndra is Draco? An epistolary fic of course!

Contretemps by @moonflower-rose (T, 8k)

Draco Malfoy has been living like a model citizen. If only he could convince Potter.

Small Spaces series by @bixgirl1 (E, 8.5k)

Malfoy is like an itch under Harry's skin on an average day. It's even worse when they're trapped in a lift.

Love, Actually, is All Around by @punk-rock-yuppie (T, 10k)

It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco works in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

Settle in in my slow-burning heart, orphaned (NR, 10k)

Five years after the war Draco is working a tech developer job in the Auror Office, and it's all great except this one thing: Harry Potter works there, too. Things only become stranger when Harry starts bringing Draco ugly souvenirs back from his work travels.

Sweet Indulgence by @the-sinking-ship (E, 10k)

It doesn't matter that Marcy from Accounting is dancing on the tables, Shacklebolt is wearing antlers, and Elliot from Transportation is on his third round of Mariah Carey on karaoke because all the free champagne in the world won't salvage the Ministry Christmas party for Draco if Potter doesn't show up soon.

Little Talks by Femme and noeon (E, 11k)

Draco's been shagging the Head Auror for months now, and he's sure it's just a fling. Until Harry asks him to a Quidditch match, that is, and things go horribly wrong.

This Unexpected Windfall by mindabbles (E, 11k)

Harry doesn’t like it when Draco is called in to work one of his cases. No. He doesn’t like it at all — at least that’s what he tells himself.

Crossed Wires by @skeptiquewrites (E, 11k)

Harry James Potter, Member of the Wizengamot for Godric’s Hollow, Secretary for Transport is ill-suited for the world of wizarding politics. Enter Draco Malfoy, Director of Communications for the Minister for Magic to moonlight as his press secretary. It should solve all of Harry’s issues with the press and Draco’s issues with over-work. Theoretically.

What Real Thing? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (E, 12k)

They don’t cuddle, they don’t talk about their relationship (or lack thereof) and they certainly never fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken (T, 12k)

What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn.

In Which Harry is Magnetic North and Draco Is An Idiot by bryoneybrynn (T, 13k)

For as long as he can remember, Draco’s been bringing fake dates to his family’s annual Yuletide celebration in order to evade his mother’s matchmaking. This year, Potter’s posing as his pretend boyfriend.

The World of Management (Or, Harry Potter and the Office Romance) by @moonflower-rose (E, 15k)

Draco Malfoy is the heart and soul of the Department of Magical Games and Sport. The only thing standing in the way of professional bliss is his boss. And Harry Potter.

Give Me a Quiet Mind by @wellhalesbells (T, 16k)

Draco is Weasley’s assistant. Except for the week he’s not. Whose brilliant idea was that again?

Ardour of Karma by @xx-thedarklord-xx (E, 17k)

“Malfoy knows something is going on with you and unless you both want to go back to fighting and death glares, you should fix it.” “How do I do that? Just waltz up to him and say, ‘I know I’ve been a prat but your scent makes my dick swell. How’s your day?’”

Common and Cliché by bryoneybrynn (E, 17k)

Aurors Malfoy and Potter have to work a case on Beltane. It would be simple if everything wasn't so damn distracting.... For those of you who are wondering, yes, I've tried to cram in as many h/d clichés as possible. But hopefully the story works as a story, too. It's not crack!fic by a long shot but it is a bit tongue-in-cheek.

Knot Your Average Coworkers by @thecouchsofa (E, 22k)

It takes Harry a while to work out that every month, almost like clockwork, Draco is given an assignment in the field that takes him out of their shared office for days on end. After each assignment, Draco returns looking so bloody exhausted that Harry gears up to file a complaint with their boss.

Little Red Courgette by @blamebrampton (T, 31k)

When this season's purple courgettes are woefully thin, Draco Malfoy thinks it amounts to small beans. Next thing he knows, the Department of Standards is over-run with leeks, Brussels sprouts all sorts of legislative difficulties, and somebody appears to have put a roquette under Harry Potter.

The Vanishing Department by @dictacontrion (E, 47k)

The things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, even if that involves a lot more form-filling, bickering, covert glancing, miscommunication, and flying furniture than we might expect.

The Darkness Before the Dawn by Ren (E, 55k)

A mysterious creature is loose in London, stalking and killing people. Auror Harry Potter requests the help of a liaison from the Beast Division and gets saddled with Draco Malfoy. Will they be able to stop the creature before it claims more lives?

We Are Young (I'll Carry You Home Tonight) by Femme (E, 70k)

Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement--and financial gain--of their circle of friends. But when Harry agrees to work with Draco to put Kingsley Shacklebolt into the Minister's office, they can't work side-by-side again every day and sleep together; that would be courting disaster. Wouldn't it?

The Liars Department by @dorthyanndrarry (T, 103k)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine.

Make This Leap by @oflights (M, 118k)

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound (E, 149k)

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

Tales From the Special Branch series by Femme (E, WIP)

When Gawain Robards asks him to form Special Branch seven-four-alpha, Harry Potter knows they'll have to work outside the confines of the law--even though they are the law.

[rekino2114]

Drv3 girls struggling to open a soda can for you only for himiko to open it easily

A/n:this is very much inspired by a scenario i saw in a wattpad story with some sdra2 characters that I thought was really funny

Kaede akamatsu

She was actually the one who suggested helping you when she saw you struggling to open the can

"Are you sure kaede? It's really tough"

"Don't worry, I got it. Playing piano really strengthens your fingers, you know?

She tries her best but eventually gives you the can back when she understands she can't open it

"Sorry y/n, you were right i think the can might be broken or something"

"Oh it's fine I'll just ask himiko"

"Himiko?"

She had her mouth wide open when himiko managed to open without any problem and needed a bit of time to let the shock go away

"Wow, himiko, I had no idea you were this strong you seem so lazy and short.......n-no offense, sorry"

Kirumi tojo

"Sorry kirumi do you mind opening this can for me?"

"Of course dear, I'd do anything for you"

Her whole ultimate is doing tasks for others, opening a can should be the easiest thing ever to her........except for this one it seems

She really doesn't want to disappoint you, so she tries for a while politely declining anyone who wants to help her.

She also tries other methods like using a towel or even taking off her gloves to open the lid but dejectedly gives up when she sees nothing works

"I am truly sorry y/n, I apologize for not being able to satisfy your request. Shall I call gonta?"

"Oh no Don't worry kirumi, I'll call himiko"

She's surprised by you choosing himiko, but even more when she actually opens it, she puts her gloved hand over her mouth to try to hide her shock

"Are you alright rumi?"

"......y-yes, pardon my surprise I just......didn't expect that"

Angie yonaga

She does a weird prayer before trying to open the can

"Oh great, atua. I ask that you give me the strength to open this can for my beloved"

She proceeds to try to open it for a few seconds before giving up and trying to blast it with divine power

"Oh, I'm sorry y/n but it seems atua is resting, and he can't open the can now"

"T-that's fine I'll just ask himiko"

"Hm?"

Initially she doesn't have too much of a reaction when himiko opens the can but she then clasps her hands together and smiles brightly

"Oh himiko it seems atua has chosen to bestow his power upon you. You must be a chosen one. You have to join me and y/n in his worship"

"N-nyeh?"

Tenko has to grab her and lead her away from your girlfriend

Tenko chabashira

"You asked the right person y/n, I got it"

She, in fact, did not get it

She genuinely tried her best though, she's pretty strong, so she just tried to pull the lid off , before trying again with all her strength and finally using some weird neo aikido move on it.

She'd rather die than ask a male for help and she really wants to impress you so she does anything she can to open it until she's sweating and breathing heavily

"A-are you ok tenko? If you can't do it, I can ask-"

"N-no don't worry, it's just a little....tight....I-I can do it"

We she finally gives up, she slams her head on the table in disappointment

"It's fine tenko, don't be like this himiko can do it"

"........hi.....miko?"

The moment himiko opens the can, she gets up and smiles in happiness. It's like a switch was flipped on her

"Wow you're so amazing himiko, did you use some of your magic?"

Miu iruma

"A soda can? really? You can't open a fucking soda can?"

"You try if you're so confident"

"Of course, I'm confident for a good reason"

The words die in her mouth as she struggles to open it, she cusses for a bit before throwing the can on the ground while blushing intensely

When even that doesn't work she puts her goggles on and tries to see if there's something wrong with it, when she concludes it's just a normal soda can she throws it again and swears at it one last time for good measure

"Soooo it's just a soda can isn't it?"

"S-Shut up, I should invent something for that"

"Don't worry I'll just ask himiko to open it"

"Eh?"

She blushes even more and her jaw drops when she sees himiko has, in fact, managed to open the soda can

"W-what the fuck? How did that flat chested shortstack did it? OK that's it, I'm definitely inventing something for that"

"A can opener already exists you know?"

"Well mine will be all robotic and better"

Maki harukawa

"You can't open it?"

"Yeah"

She sighs before taking the can from your hand, closing her eyes and pulling the lid.

This girl has the training of an assassin, she could choke an adult with her bare hands. she can open a soda can.......

not this time, apparently

When she feels that it didn't open, she opens her eyes and makes a surprised "Hm?" Before trying again repeatedly

She's this close to pulling out a knife and just slicing the lid when kokichi starts to tease her

"Geez you can't even open a soda can? And I thought you were supposed to be-"

"Shut up. Do you wanna die?"

When she gives up, you give her a kiss on the cheek to cheer her up and call himiko.

When the magician opens the can she has the most shocked expression you have ever seen on her face

"...........what? How did she........*sighs* whatever"

[pali-writes-atiny-bit]

Play with Fire

Pairing: Hyunjin x afab!reader, Hyunjin x y/n

Summary: The follow up to Of Haircuts and Hyunjin - After his visit to District 9 Salon, Hyunjin can't stop thinking about you. He reaches out to you and ends up taking you on a date.

WC: 5.1k

SS: 3

AU: idol!Hyunjin

Genre: Smut

Content Warnings: Intended for 18+ mature audiences, MDNI! Kissing, oral sex (cunnilingus and fellatio)

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @neverendingdreams-net

Part 1

After he left the salon, he had stuffed the receipt into his pocket and headed to the company practice rooms. All through dance practice it felt as though that little piece of paper was burning a hole in his pocket. Thankfully he didn’t make any mistakes, but he wasn’t as focused on his dancing as he should be - all because he couldn’t stop thinking about the message. He couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Hyunjin returns to the dorm after dance practice and flops on his bed. He removes the little receipt paper from his pocket and holds it in his hand. He reads the message and then re-reads it.

In case you want to do more than look ###-###-#### Y/N.

He crumples the receipt and tosses it to the side with a sigh. He should just forget all about it, forget all about you. While he and the other members are no longer under a dating ban, strictly speaking, it is still discouraged by the company. Seeing you would just be playing with fire. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs again. Maybe a shower will help clear his thoughts.

He grabs a towel from the linen closet and pads down the hallway to the bathroom. He strips his clothes off and turns on the shower before stepping in. The water is nearly scalding, just the way he likes it. He can feel the water washing away the sweat from his body while his muscles slowly relax. 

He closes his eyes and stands under the water for several long minutes, letting it cascade down his body. He takes measured breaths, inhaling deeply, pausing, and exhaling slowly. With each breath he lets his thoughts bleed from his mind until there is nothing.

Eventually, he needs to wash his hair and body. He squirts his body wash on his washcloth and lathers it up. The scent of lavender and eucalyptus swirls around him, enveloping him as he drags it first across his chest then down his body. The subtle lavender is soothing while the eucalyptus is refreshing and provides mental clarity.  

For the moment, he has succeeded in his goal of forgetting all about you. But all of that goes down the drain the moment he begins to wash his hair. The feeling of his fingers scrubbing his scalp immediately makes him flashback to that morning at the salon. 

You squirt a couple of pumps of shampoo into your palm, rubbing it between your hands before working it into a lather in his hair. While you work the shampoo into his tresses, you massage his scalp. Your fingers work a kind of magic that has all the tension melting from his body. It feels like heaven.

Every now and then, your fingernails also lightly scratch his scalp. Each scratch lights up his nerve endings and sends a current of pleasure rippling through his body. He can’t help the slight shiver that follows. He can feel his cock twitching to life between his legs, pressing against his pants. 

The flashback ends abruptly when the shower water begins to run cold. The water streaming down his body may be cold, but his cock hangs hot and heavy from the memory. He exhales shakily and shivers from the cold water. He quickly rinses the shampoo from his hair and by the time he finishes, his body has calmed down, but his mind has not. 

His thoughts race as he steps out of the shower. He dries himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist and heading back to his room. He dresses in sweats and a baggy t-shirt before flopping on his bed once again. 

As he stretches out, his hand hits the crumpled receipt paper he had discarded earlier. He grabs it and sits up. He uncrumples it and smooths the paper against his thigh.

In case you want to do more than look ###-###-#### Y/N.

Before he can second - or third - guess himself, he punches the number into his phone. 

He’s always liked to play with fire. 

You were stretched out in bed, relieving your tired muscles. Your hours at the salon were long and draining, and your hands and feet often hurt after a shift. In the end, you didn't really mind though. It paid well enough, and since it was a high end salon, you'd get to meet the occasional Kpop idol or actor.

While you laid there, you opened your socials for your nightly doom scrolling. It didn't take much scrolling before Kpop fan edits began to show up in your feed. You double-tapped your screen to like a video here or there.

You abruptly stopped scrolling as the next video played and you saw a familiar face. It was a fancam of Hyunjin’s Megaverse dance break. God, he looked so handsome. You admired the precise control he had over his body. You were in absolute awe. And when he hip-thrusted in time to the music, well, let’s just say you felt your entire body flush. You let the video replay several more times - drinking in every single detail. 

Your rapt attention was broken when your phone vibrated with a text notification. Startled, you let the phone slip from your grip and it lands on your face. You let out a pained squeak and sit up. Who could be texting you at this time? All your friends and family live across the world from you. 

You scoff to yourself a little incredulously. There was no way the Hyunjin of Stray Kids was texting you. If you were being honest, you're not sure why you left him your number. Sure, you would have had to be blind to miss either his blatant appreciation of your body or his physical reaction during his appointment. He had flirted, and you had even flirted back. But still, you never would have expected him to actually text you. He was an idol and you were, well, nobody really.

Yet, against all odds, here he was. So you saved his number, took a deep breath, and texted him back.

You giggle to yourself and suppress a smile while kicking your feet. You’re going on a date with Hyunjin!

The next day you put on a pair of lacy panties and a short, flowing dress that ties behind your neck. There is a triangle of skin showing between your breasts and it leaves your back wide open. It’s modest enough but makes you feel cute, maybe even sexy. You slip on a pair of ballet flats and pack a pair of wedge sandals for later. Satisfied with your appearance, you grab your makeup bag and head to the salon to start your shift. 

When you arrive at District 9 you place your belongings in the break room before checking your bookings for the day, you have a full schedule of clients with hardly a break in between. You inhale a deep breath before exhaling slowly, preparing yourself mentally for the day. And then you put a smile on your face and prepare your station for the first client. 

By lunchtime you are absolutely famished. You run down the street to the convenience store and buy a kimbap and a can of milkis. When you return, you all but fall into a break room chair, eager to put your feet up for a few minutes. You pull out your phone as you begin to wolf down your food. You see you have a new notification. 

Skipping ahead to ‘darling’ already? You giggle to yourself and shake your head. Even though you’ve been busy, you can’t help but feel like the day is dragging on. Only four more hours to go. Hwaiting! you tell yourself.

With some measure of luck, your 4’clock, your last appointment of the day, cancels at the last minute. You breathe a sigh of relief and ask your coworker to give you a blowout and style. They loosely curl your hair while you chat about your plans for the evening. You explain that you’re going on a date, but you’re careful not to mention who you’re going on a date with. 

They add a finishing touch by pulling half of your hair back into a fishtail braid secured with a cute ribbon. Happy with the look, you thank them and spend the remaining time putting on some light makeup. Just after 5, you slip out of your flats, put on your wedges. After a final check in the mirror, you grab your bag and walk out the door. 

Hyunjin stands outside of the salon, leaning against the car he’s using for the night. He’s dressed casually and wearing a mask with a ball cap pulled low to help conceal his identity. He arrived just before 5 and has been waiting for you. As he waits, he nonchalantly scrolls through his socials. To passersby, he looks calm and collected. 

The truth is, he’s nervous. His palms are sweating, and a closer look would reveal a slight tremor of the hands. For one, it’s been years since he’s been on anything resembling a date. He definitely doesn’t think outings with the other members count. For two, there were nigh on countless things that could go wrong, and any number of them could cause a scandal. 

He knew he was taking a risk - maybe even a major risk - but there was just something so alluring about you. From the beginning, the moment he walked into District 9, he’s been drawn to you like a moth to a flame. He’s always liked to play with fire. 

He looks up when you walk out of the salon, and the world seems to stop turning, if only for a moment. You call out a soft greeting, and he shivers with pleasure, his name never sounding sweeter than it does coming out of your lips. You look absolutely radiant with your hair falling in soft curls around your shoulders. A light breeze ruffles the skirt of your dress, allowing him a brief glimpse of your plush thighs. 

He subconsciously gives his lips a quick lick before subtly wiping his palms on his pants as he pockets his phone. He gives you a bright smile and walks to open the passenger door. 

“Your chariot awaits, miss!” he chuckles with a playful bow.  

He watches as you mock curtsey back to him and go to get in the car. The car is a little lower than you expected, and he watches as you stumble. Without even thinking, his hands reach out to stabilize you. Your waist underneath his hands feels just right - you’re so warm. The perfect balance of soft and firm. 

He can’t help but give you a gentle squeeze as he helps you into the car. You give him the brightest smile in return. It’s a smile bright enough to melt all of his nerves away. When he shuts your car door and walks around to the driver's side, he has to take a moment to adjust himself in his pants. 

As you settle into the seat of the car, you close your eyes and take a deep breath to calm your nerves. The air is permeated with the scent of Hyunjin. It’s lightly floral with a hint of something else - spicy or herbal? You find it suits him perfectly. 

Just a moment later, the driver’s door opens and Hyunjin folds his long legs into the car. He puts on his seatbelt and makes sure that yours is buckled as well. Then he gives you a bright smile and starts the car. You give him a smile back and he pulls out of the parking lot. 

You study Hyunjin as he drives. Even doing something so mundane, he looks stunning. He’s relaxed in the driver’s seat. His left hand is on the steering wheel while his right hand rests on the gear shift between the two of you. You didn't think you had a thing for hands, but you can’t help but study his hands. 

You observe the way the veins on the back of his hand faintly protrude and snake up his forearm. His fingers are long and adorned with silver rings. His nails are well manicured but unpainted. As you stare, you can't help but imagine the way his hands might feel on you - and in you.

Would his palms be soft or rough against your skin? Are his hands warm or cold? What would the cool metal of his rings feel like as he glides his hands over your body? What would his rings feel like pressed against your folds? And oh - how deep inside would those long fingers reach?

You can feel your body begin to heat up in response to your wayward thoughts - starting with a tingling sensation between your thighs.You shift your gaze outside the window and exhale a shaky breath. You loosely grip the hem of your dress in your fists and subtly squeeze your thighs together. A futily seeking any sort of relief.

Determined to keep looking out the window, you miss the way Hyunjin subtly shifts his gaze to you as you press your thighs. You miss the way he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing, before clenching his jaw. However determined you are, you can’t miss the way tension seems to rise in the car - an energy, a dangerous attraction sparking to life between the two of you.

Thankfully, the car ride is brief and soon enough Hyunjin is parking the car. You take a deep breath as you exit the car. Thankfully, the open air seems to break the tension between you. He’s brought you to the outskirts out the city and as he leads you down the street, he tells you about the little hole-in-the-wall BBQ restaurant the other members found. He and the others have frequented the restaurant enough to befriend the owner who always ensures they have a private room in the back away from the prying eyes of the public. 

Once inside the restaurant, he greets the employees with friendly familiarity and walks toward the very room he just mentioned to you. Ever the gentleman, he pulls out your chair to seat you first. 

“And they say chivalry is dead,” you tease with a smirk. 

He waves you off with a playful scowl, but a faint blush tinges his cheeks as he takes his seat across from you. 

You feel the spark of attraction flare back to life now that you’re seated across from him. As you examine the menu, you wonder if he feels the same. You glance up at him, and find that he is already looking at you. You flush as you meet his eyes and exchange a shy smile. 

You gesture to the menu and ask if he has any recommendations. You spend the next several minutes discussing the menu, stealing glances while the other isn’t looking. At restaurants like these, there’s a fine line between not enough food and too much food and neither of you want to eat too much food. After much deliberation you settle on an order of galbi and samgyeopsal with rice for the both of you. 

Hyunjin leaves the room to place the order, and you fan your face, feeling a bit warm. You’re certain that you must be flushed. When he returns, he relaxes into his seat, one arm across the back of the other chair while his other hand rests on the table. He flashes you a bright smile. 

“So, Y/N tell me about yourself - outside of your job what do you like to do?” he asks?

You spend several minutes animatedly detailing your numerous interests and hobbies - most prominently how you love to read and listen to music. You admit that you are a big fan of kpop and watch his face light up when you reveal you’ve been a Stay for about a year now. He puts on a serious face and asks you who your bias is, pouting when it’s not him. 

You've seen him pout before on live, but it's different in person. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his lush lips. They look soft and hydrated - absolutely kissable. You shake your head to dismiss the thought before it can go any further and reach a hand across the table to where his hand is resting. 

You pat his hand as you give him a sly grin, “there’s plenty of time for me to be swayed. You could still become my favorite.” In an uncharacteristically bold move, you seal your words with a wink.

His mouth falls open, whether in shock or rebuttal you don’t know, because before he can get any words out, the food arrives. The owner himself and another employee bring in the food. They light the grill and place the meat and tongs near Hyunjin then beautifully arrange the banchan dishes before politely bowing and excusing themselves. 

Hyunjin wields the tongs with practiced ease. You shamelessly admire him from across the table while he places first the samgyeopsal and then galbi on the grill. He then takes the scissors and cuts each strip into smaller pieces. The grill is still heating up when the meat is first added, but soon enough your ears and nostrils are filled with the sizzling sounds and tantalizing smells of grilling meat. Your mouth waters in response.

As Hyunjin carefully tends the meat, turning each piece several times, you chat casually. As time passes, you both grow bolder, exchanging flirting words and glances. You feel your face grow warm - whether from the heat of the grill or from the flames of desire, you can't say. Although you could wager a guess.

You're uncertain how much time has truly passed, but soon enough Hyunjin begins removing the first round of meat from the grill and placing them on the nearby serving platter. While he lets the meat rest, he starts laying the second round out on the grill.

After he finishes arranging and cutting the meat in the grill, he picks up a piece of galbi with his chopsticks and holds it out to you. 

“Here, pretty girl, the first piece is for you!”

You flush even further but open your mouth to accept the piece of meat. Your taste buds are immediately assaulted by the sweet, salty, and slightly smoky flavor of the galbi. The meat is so tender it practically falls apart on your mouth without chewing. You close your eyes and moan appreciatively. 

Hyunjin makes some sort of strangled noise, and when you open your eyes, you find him staring at you with lust in his eyes. You meet his heated gaze, with heat in your own gaze, and smile.       

You and Hyunjin take your time; both of you enjoy the carefully cooked meat, delicious banchan, and each other's company. When the food is gone, Hyunjin rises and offers you his hand, which you happily take.

You let him lead you to the front where he pays for the meal before opening the door and ushering you out. Darkness fell while you were eating and without the heat of the sun you find the night breeze just a little chilly. 

Hyunjin pulls you close and guides you back to the car with his hand on your lower back. Your interactions during the meal has nurtured the spark of attraction between you into a roaring flame of desire. As such, you're hyper aware of his hand against your back - the heat from his palm radiates through your body. The warmth spreads throughout your body and pools low in your stomach.

Like earlier, Hyunjin opens your car door and helps you in. As you settle into your seat, you know one thing for certain: your stomach may be pleasantly full, but you're filled with a hunger of an entirely different nature.                                                                           

After he slides into the driver's seat, Hyunjin types the address you give him into his phone. It turns out you only live a few blocks from the salon, so he knows the drive won't take long. Is that a blessing or a curse?

The atmosphere in the car comes to life with the unspoken sexual tension between you and him. Hyunjin feels his cock twitching within the confines of his pants. He inhales a deep, measured breath through his nose in an effort to calm himself. Instead, he gets a deep inhale of your sweet perfume, and he only grows harder. He grips the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white. 

Traffic is lighter this time of day, and in no time at all Hyunjin finds himself parked in front of your apartment. He isn't ready to say goodbye to you, and it seems you aren't quite ready to part either because you haven't made any moves to exit the car. 

Then, it seems you both make up your minds because you speak at the same time he does.

“Hyun-”

“Y/N-”

He gestures for you to continue and waits while you unbuckle your seatbelt to turn and face him. He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath before blurting out, “Hyunjin, would you like to come up with me? I don't want the night to end yet…”

For several long seconds he doesn’t move, and he doesn't say anything. He's warring with himself - he wants so badly to go with you. He can't deny how intensely he desires you. He feels like he's burning from the inside out. Following you up to your apartment would just be playing with fire.

You, unfortunately, take his silence as rejection. Your voice trembles as you ramble, “I’m sorry if I misread any signs…I had a great time, but I'll just get going now.”

You scramble to open your door and exit the car, and this shakes him out of his thoughts. He catches your wrist and pulls you back, smashing his lips to yours. 

Your lips against his are so soft and they part in surprise. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between them, meeting yours. He relishes in the way your tongue dances with his. He kisses you for several long minutes. By the time he breaks the kiss, you're both out of breath. 

“Please, Y/N,” he pants, “I want you.”

He's always like to play with fire.

He follows closely behind you as you lead him up to your apartment, opting to take the stairs rather than the elevator for discretion. You're out of breath when you stop outside of apartment 14-3. 

You quickly enter the code to your door, and he follows. As soon as you're both inside, he shuts the door and spins you both, so you're pinned against the door, caged in his arms. He claims your lips again in a feverish kiss and you respond in kind. 

As your lips clash and tongues tangle, he maneuvers his thigh between your legs, pressing against your clothed mound. He can feel the heat radiating from your core. And when you begin to shift your hips, he can feel the wetness seeping through your panties. Each time you grind down on his thigh, you also inadvertently provide friction to his aching cock. 

Eventually he can't take it anymore and he breaks the kiss.

“Please, Y/N,” he pants. “I need to taste you. Can I taste you?”

When you nod, blushing, he picks you up, hands gripping your thighs.

He kisses you and then asks, “bed or couch, pretty girl?”

“Couch - living room is through there,” you respond breathlessly, gesturing with your chin. 

He gently sets you down on the couch and wastes no time kneeling before you on the floor. You lift your hips slightly and he peels your panties off, sliding his hands gently down your thighs as he goes. Thick strings of your arousal cling to your panties and he shamelessly sniffs them before throwing them haphazardly to the side. 

“You smell delicious, pretty.”

He smirks at the way your face flames red at his actions and positions himself between your thighs. His slender shoulders keep your legs spread apart. 

He uses his thumbs to spread your lips apart and takes a moment to admire the view before diving straight in. Using the flat of his tongue he slowly licks a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit. Your slick tastes divine - a pleasant balance between sweet and tangy - and he moans. 

He repeats the action a few more times, just as slowly, before dipping the tip of his tongue into your entrance, seeking more of your nectar straight from the source. He could get drunk on you - but it's not enough. 

He shifts your thighs to rest on top of his shoulders, sandwiching his head. He stiffens his tongue and thrusts it into your core, spearing you open. From this new position he can reach deeper, and he repeats the motion again and again. Licking, sucking, slurping. 

You're both moaning messes and he can feel your thighs quivering. 

“Hyunjin, more,” you plead, canting your hips. 

Happy to oblige, he slowly works two of his fingers into you. He scissors them apart and works you open while questing for your g-spot. At the same time, he wraps his lips around your clit. 

When he finds that area of slightly spongy flesh, he gently presses into it, massaging small circles into the flesh. Simultaneously, he uses the tip of his tongue to quickly flick your sensitive bud - all that hard work at learning enunciation paying off. 

Although your thighs muffle all sounds, he can still hear your moans and whimpers. They grow in volume and frequency as he pushes you towards your high. 

Your thighs clamp shut around his head as he pushes you over the edge. He drinks you down, not letting a single drop of your cum go to waste. You moan his name, “Jinnie!!”

He was wrong earlier - the way you moan his name in the height of pleasure is the sweetest sound. And he wants to hear you do it over and over again.

You relax into the couch cushions, breathing hard. You look down between your thighs to where Hyunjin is emerging, his face glistening with the remnants of your release. “Holy fuck, Jinnie…” you pant. “Wait, can I call you, Jinnie?”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, before wiping the hand on his pants. He stands up, slowly unfolding his lithe body, and plops himself down beside you. He raises a hand to your cheek and gently turns your head. 

“You can call me whatever you like, darling,” he murmurs. 

You meet his eyes and smile before leaning in and capturing his lips. He tastes like you, but you don't mind. You deepen the kiss, licking into his mouth. When you eventually withdraw, you tug at his lower lip with your teeth, and he whimpers.

“You taste good, Jinnie,” you croon. “But I bet I know something that tastes even better.”

You slide off the couch until you're the one kneeling between his thighs. 

“What do you say, Jinnie baby…” You look up at him, eyes shrouded behind your long lashes. “Can I return the favor?”

You relish in the way he whimpers, “please.”

Your fingers deftly unbutton his pants before you lean forward taking the zipper between your teeth. 

“Fuck…” he hisses, staring down at you. “That's so fucking hot.”

You grin and hook your fingers into the waistband of both his boxer briefs and pants. You give them a gentle tug and he lifts his hips to help you slide them off in one go. You let them pool around his ankles, too distracted by his newly freed cock, which smacks against his clothed abdomen. 

As far as phalluses go, Hyunjin’s is beautiful. It isn’t the thickest you’ve ever seen, but it’s long with the slightest curve to the left. Like his hands, there is a protruding vein that runs along the underside from base to tip. His cockhead is an angry red and leaking precum. With each beat of his heart, his cock pulses and a little more precum oozes out. 

“Eyes on me,” you say before slowly dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock, tracing the vein, before swirling it around his tip and sucking hard. You let your tongue dip into his slit and gather more of his salty essence. He lets out a breathy moan. He can't control the way his hips jerk up, pressing himself further into your mouth. He feels guilty, stuttering out an “I’m sorry” but you pay him no mind, simply humming around his cock and pressing his hips back into the couch. Your display of dominance combined with the subtle vibrations make his brain go fuzzy. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and he relaxes into the couch. 

Still loosely holding his hips, you bob your head up and down, taking more of his cock each down stroke. You gag a little when he finally hits the back of your throat, tears springing to your eyes unbidden. You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath, before taking him into your mouth again. You relax your throat and swallow him down inch by inch. 

He lets out a strangled cry and his hips jerk again involuntarily. You tighten your grip on his hips and shove them back into the couch. Pinning him down, you redouble your efforts until his thighs are tense and trembling. 

“I’m so close, please…” he begs. For what - to stop, to continue - neither of you know. 

You slide one hand from his hip to cup his balls as you swallow down his length. As you work your throat around him, he can’t hold back. He reaches one hand down to cup your cheek and emits a strangled moan as he cums straight down your throat. 

You swallow everything down before releasing his cock with a pop. 

Hyunjin knows he’s a goner as soon as he looks down at you kneeling between his feet - spit dribbling down your chin and tear tracks lining your cheeks.

You’re beautiful. 

This was supposed to be a one-time thing. 

To quell the fire inside of him

But this has only been a match in the gas tank. 

There is now an inferno that rages only for you. And he doubts it will be just a one-time thing.   

A/N: Hey all, I hope you enjoyed the 2nd part of Of Haircuts and Hyunjin. Thank you for making it this far. If you enjoyed, please let me know if you'd be interested in a 3rd part. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in any of my work.

Tag list: @skzdust @catiuskaa

[divine-misfortune]

Frost has a bite

Kinktober day 3: Temperature play

Rating: Explicit

Relationship(s): Alpha/Omega

Words: 614

Tags: Exhibitionism, public sex, Omega gets head in a seedy bar bathroom, blowjobs, handjobs, temperature play, Alpha and Omega bickering like always, old man yaoi

Read on ao3 or below the cut

Alpha had a magic touch. 

Those two rough hands could bring a sane man to their knees, and while Omega was on his feet he still found himself dangling precariously between heaven and hell with those fingers wrapped around the girth of his cock. Fraying the rope that held him further with every slow stroke. With one he gripped him at the base, a tight circle that might as well have been the noose being looped around his neck, and the other kept a torturous pace, smiling devilishly all the while. 

Omega knew he was being led straight to hell and was helpless to stop it, the heat of Alpha’s hands made him certain of it. Not hot but warm - warm enough to flush the whole of his cock a pretty shade of pink, the head fully reddened as it began to drip onto the tile before the kneeling fire ghoul. 

“You’re horrible.” He hissed through his teeth, fingers flexing at his sides, nails scratching at the wall behind him. “Hurry up, I’m going to be late.”

“I’m trying to do somethin’ nice Megs, bruising my knees on this dirty floor for you, and I haven’t gotten a lick of gratitude.” Alpha didn’t look up at him, tone beyond dismissive. He squeezed him at the base again and dragged the circle up the length, curving his dick upwards. 

“Well your timing is ter-terrible.” His growl wavered when Alpha kissed at the place his shaft met his sack, the small puff of air as he laughed sent a shudder running through him. “I’ll be thankful when you shut up and get on with it. Do something a little more useful with your mouth.” 

“Oh c’mon baby, I know you can ask nicely.” Another kiss just below the head, tapping it against his lips for good measure. He knew just how to play him, Omega practically drooled over the sight of his cock laid out on his handsome face. “Go on.” 

“Fucking hell, Al. Blow me or get out of the way and I’ll get myself off.” 

Alpha rolled his eyes. 

Somehow Omega missed the coy way Alpha smiled until it was too late, the evil beast - he lived up to his role as a creature of something unholy. Wisps of steam escaped his parted lips as he laved his tongue along the vein on the underside of his shaft and Omega responded bodily. His eyes just about bulged out of his head, broad frame shivering like something delicate. Accustomed to him and his hellish hands, Omega’s body was running hot, he’d been expecting Alpha’s mouth to mirror his touch but it was far from it. 

His mouth fell open, head hitting the wall. The wires in his brain fizzled out, crossing and tangling as conflicting sensations assaulted his nerves. 

The fire ghoul pinned his hips to the wall and sunk down his length till the tip of his nose bumped against his belly, burying his cock into the uncharacteristically cold embrace of his throat, dragging a pitched gurgled sound out of his typically well spoken mate. Reduced to confused, guttural sounds that echoed shamefully off the bathroom walls, growing in volume as Alpha began to lazily bob his head. 

“T-That’s why you, fuck, were asking the bartender for ice chips all night?!” Omega pulled his palm down his face, brow furrowing. “You were planning this shit, oh I can’t fucking stand you.”

He sat back on his heels, pulling off of him with a loud pop and a grin, taking him back in his hands which felt damn near scalding in comparison.

”Mist’s idea, don’t be mad at me darling dearest. I simply follow orders.”