#the sheer MAGNETISM between them

[potato-on-your-head]

listen Emma Swan is morosexual and exclusively attracted to men who are cringefail in one way or another, the most functional person she sort-of dated was probably Graham and even then their first makeout happened after she'd spent the whole day with him while he was having a nervous breakdown. her other flames include a pretend furniture salesman who fake pined after her until she noticed him, a 200-year-old twentysomething conman who taught her how to commit felonies at age 18, and a pirate who flipped from Kitten Thinks Of Nothing But Murder All Day to puppy-eyed pining for one (1) Emma Swan in the course of like a week. she was a goner the moment Killian Jones sauntered onto the scene. she's kicked his ass. she's seen others kick his ass. she watched him get hit by a fucking car. he said the dumbest flirty shit to her until she mashed her face into his from the sheer sexual tension.

it was always just a contest between which brand of moron she was going to pick in the end. she chose to be ride or die for Hot Eyeliner Pirate and we love her for it

you know who else in funny? Neal. I cannot get over how much of a loser he is. And the fact that he thought he ever stood a chance when it came between him and Hook??? Guy Liner McPuppy Eyes? Emma walks into his his line of sight and his world is instantly rocked. Killian Jones would NEVER get engaged to a random woman on the street because he was too scared to face Emma. Also Neal has zero drip. Man is wearing a dirty t-shirt and sweatpants 100% of the time. Hook is in dashing black pirate attire. He’s got a detachable hook for a hand and has alluded to having ~other~ attachments for it as well. Baelfire calls his dad “papa” despite being a grown man. “When I win your heart, Emma, and I will win it. It will not be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me.” Neal baby i’m so sorry but you could nevvvverrrrrrr

[misswynters]

𝐗𝐎𝐗𝐎

jinx x fem!bombshell!reader

synopsis: You are a model for (victorias secret equivalent but in arcane universe) and jinx becomes infatuated with you. Known for you bombshell persona and explosive personality, you are the most well known model in all of piltover and zaun. Possibility even watching noxus and the other regions.

warnings: 18+, smut, kissing, smut, wlw , the use of a toy, jinx calls you sugar,

a/n: my first jinx fic <3, also on ao3 (not yet, under doorkiluv)

note | pls give me feedback (and don't only just like but also reblog and comment) this was supposed to be short but it went overboard

𓏲 ˖. ♡ 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐱 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 for Piltover. Too clean, too polished, too boring. The people were all fake smiles and ridiculous hats, and she preferred the chaos of Zaun to its glittering streets. That all changed the day she first saw you. She’d been in Piltover on a whim, loitering in the shadows as she planned her next prank. Explosives in a fancy clock tower, maybe? She hadn’t decided yet. But her chaotic thoughts screeched to a halt when she looked up at the enormous neon screen in Piltover Square and saw your beautiful face.

You were walking down the runway in a show so glamorous it put Piltover’s polished spires to shame. Wrapped in a shimmering, barely-there gown that hugged your curves, you strode with an air of absolute confidence. Your bombshell persona was magnetic, your hips swaying to the rhythm of the music as the crowd erupted into applause. You gave the camera a cheeky wink and blew a kiss, and Jinx’s brain short-circuited.

“Holy… Who the hell is that?” she muttered, her wide eyes glued to the screen.

A vendor passing by glanced at her. “That’s her. You don’t know? The biggest model in all of Piltover and Zaun. Hell, even Noxus and Ionia are crazy about her.”

Jinx didn’t respond, too transfixed by the image of you flashing across the screen. You were a living firework, a walking explosion of charisma, beauty, and sheer presence. Your bold, flirty persona was a match for her own chaos, and it wasn’t just your looks that had her hooked—it was the energy you carried, the way you owned every moment. From that point on, Jinx was utterly captivated.

Back in her lair, your face became a constant presence. Jinx scavenged every poster, magazine, and billboard she could find that featured you. Her walls were covered in them, glossy images of you smirking, posing, and looking like you owned the world. She couldn’t get enough of you, and it drove her mad in the best way possible.

“Look at her,” she’d whisper to herself, lying on her bed and staring at a magazine cover where you lounged in a shimmering gold corset. “She’s a walking explosion.”

Whenever one of your commercials aired on Piltover’s big screens, Jinx made a point to watch. She’d perch on the rooftops, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you spoke directly to the camera, your voice sultry and teasing. Sometimes, she’d mimic your lines, laughing to herself at how ridiculous she sounded compared to you.

The first time Jinx saw you in person, she nearly short-circuited. You were in Zaun, of all places, stepping out of a sleek transport at one of the fancier underground clubs. It was rare for someone like you to venture into the depths, but you carried yourself with the same confidence that lit up your photoshoots. Heads turned as you walked through the crowd, a knowing smirk on your lips as if you knew exactly the effect you had on everyone around you. Jinx’s pulse quickened. This was her chance.

She darted through the crowd, weaving between gawking onlookers until she was standing at the bar beside you. Up close, you were even more stunning, your beauty almost overwhelming.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you in a dump like this,” Jinx drawled, leaning casually against the counter. Her nerves were on fire, but she masked it with her usual cocky grin.

You turned to her, one perfectly arched brow raising as you took her in. Your gaze lingered on her bright blue hair and manic energy, and a small, amused smile played on your lips.

“Maybe I like a little chaos,” you replied, your voice smooth as silk. “And you certainly look like the chaotic type.”

Jinx grinned wider, her confidence surging. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not just chaos—I’m a full-blown explosion.”

The two of you spent the night trading flirty remarks and playful banter, the tension between you crackling like a lit fuse. Jinx couldn’t believe her luck. You weren’t just a pretty face. But you had a fiery, explosive personality to match. You were bold, unapologetic, and just as dangerous as you were beautiful. At one point, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear as she murmured, “So… what’s it like knowing the whole damn world’s obsessed with you?”

You laughed, the sound low and sultry. “I don’t mind the attention,” you said, turning your head so your lips were almost touching hers. “But right now, I’m more interested in you.” Jinx’s heart nearly stopped.

Back at her lair, were things escalated rather quickly. Jinx couldn’t keep her hands off you, tracing every curve and line of your body like she was memorizing you. Her fingers lingered on your hips, her lips trailing heated kisses along your neck as she whispered breathless praises. “You’re even better than the posters,” she murmured, her voice filled with wonder. “Didn’t think that was possible.”

You teased her with your signature confidence, your voice dripping with flirtation as you pulled her closer. “So you’ve been staring at my posters, huh? What did you think about me?”

Jinx blushed, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she grinned wickedly, her fingers tightening on your waist. “Thought about all the things I’d do if I ever got you alone,” she said, her tone low and rough. “And now, I’m not holding back.”

The tension was electric, charged with the crackling hum of her inventions and the intensity of her gaze on you. She had been teasing you mercilessly all evening, brushing her hands against your skin, dropping flirty remarks that sent heat pooling low in your belly. You could feel the mischief radiating off her as she twirled one of her newest creations in her hand. It was a bright, colorful pleasure device she'd been gushing about for days. Jinx loved experimenting, and tonight, you were her favorite subject.

She grinned at you, her sharp, mischievous grin that made your heart race every time. "Alright, Sugar," she purred, tossing the toy between her hands like it was some casual gadget and not something designed to make you lose your mind. "You trust me, don't ya?"

You raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain your usual flirty composure. "You mean to tell me that thing isn't gonna explode?"

Jinx cackled, tossing her head back. "Not this time, babe! Well, probably not. But hey, if it does, at least we'll go out with a bang!" She winked, and despite your hesitation, you couldn't help but nervously laugh. "You're impossible," you murmured letting her guide you to the mattress piled high with pillows and blankets.

"And you're irresistible," she shot back, pressing you down onto the bed with a surprising gentleness for someone so wild. Her hands were steady as they traced over your skin, her fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.

She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. "Let me take care of you, Sugar," she whispered, her voice dripping with sweetness and heat. "Promise I'll make it fun."

The first sensation was the gentle hum of the device she'd created, a soft vibration against your folds that made you arch into her touch. It was colorful and whimsical, much like Jinx herself, with blinking lights and playful patterns painted across its surface. Despite its toy-like appearance, the way it worked against your body was anything but innocent.

Her free hand skimmed over your inner thigh, her touch featherlight and maddeningly slow. The wetness pooling between your legs became impossible to ignore, and Jinx took full advantage, sliding the toy up until it pressed directly against your bundle of nerves. A slick, wet sound began filled the room, the vibrations amplifying the noise as your arousal spread. Jinx froze for a moment before bursting into a fit of laughter. "Oh, look at you," Jinx teased, her eyes bright as she watched your reaction.

"Didn't take much, huh? Bet I could've just touched you, and you'd be melting for me." You tried to retort, but the words caught in your throat as she pressed the device lower, her mischievous grin widening as your body jerked in response.

"Aw, Sugar, don't hold back," she crooned, tilting her head to the side as if studying you. "I like hearin' you. Makes it more fun for me."

Your head fell back, a moan slipping past your lips as she adjusted the settings, the vibrations intensifying. She laughed softly, her free hand stroking your thigh as if to ground you. You buried your face in your hands, mortified but too overwhelmed by the pleasure to stop her. The toy’s vibrations grew stronger, and the obscene wet noises only intensified as she moved it against you, her laughter turning into a low, appreciative hum. “Damn, you sound so good,” she murmured, her tone dipping into something more serious. “Bet I could make you scream just with this.”

Your hips bucked against the toy, your slick arousal coating it and making the sounds louder and wetter with each movement. The lewd squelching only seemed to spur Jinx on, her grin growing wider as she adjusted the settings, sending sharper bursts of pleasure through your body. “Listen to that, Sugar,” she teased, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re a fuckin’ symphony for me. All wet and messy, just how I like it.”

The embarrassment of her words was quickly drowned out by the mounting pleasure, your moans growing louder as the toy worked you closer to the edge. Jinx’s free hand slipped beneath your thigh, lifting your leg to spread you open further.

“Look at you,” she said, her eyes dark with hunger as she watched the toy glisten with your slick. “So damn pretty like this. Could stare at you all day."

Her words made your cheeks flush, though you couldn't focus on embarrassment for long. Every nerve in your body was alight, the sensation of her toy paired with her teasing kisses and caresses driving you to the edge. And then she pulled it away, grinning wickedly at your gasp of frustration. "Not yet, Sugar," she said, clicking her tongue. "I'm not done playin' with you."

She shifted her attention, leaning down to press her lips against your neck. Her kisses were hot and open-mouthed, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. You felt her grin against your throat when you whimpered, your hands clutching the sheets beneath you. Her lips found your collarbone, her teeth sinking into the delicate skin to leave another mark.

"Gotta leave my mark," she murmured between kisses, sucking a particularly dark bruise just below your jaw. "Let everyone know you’re mine. My perfect, messy little bombshell.” Her words sent a shiver down your spine, but you hesitated, your modeling career flashing through your mind. "Jinx, I..."

She pulled back, her wide, manic eyes locking with yours. "Aw, don't worry about all that fancy-shmancy stuff," she said, her voice teasing but with an edge of sincerity. "Bet they'll just airbrush it or whatever. C'mon, Sugar, lemme have my fun."

Your protests melted away as she kissed you again, this time harder, deeper, her hands pinning your wrists above your head. The way she looked at you, like you were the most precious thing she'd ever seen, made your resolve crumble. "Fine," you murmured, breathless. "Do your worst."

Her grin was feral. "Oh, babe, you asked for it." Jinx worked her way across your body, leaving a trail of marks in her wake on your neck, your collarbone, and the valley between of your chest. Each one was a testament to her possessiveness, her need to claim you in a way that went beyond words. "You're gonna look so pretty tomorrow," she murmured, her hands and lips everywhere at once. "Walkin' around all marked up, like a damn work of art."

You couldn't even bring yourself to care about the consequences anymore. Her touch was overwhelming, every kiss and bite sending jolts of pleasure through you. She alternated between using her toy and her hands, keeping you teetering on the edge but never quite letting you fall. "Beg for it," she whispered, her voice dark and playful as she hovered above you. "C'mon, Sugar, lemme hear it. Tell me how bad you want me to finish you off."

Your pride wavered, but the need coursing through you won out. "Please, Jinx," you gasped, your voice shaking. "I need you. Please."

She chuckled, clearly satisfied with your quick surrender. "That's more like it," she said, finally pressing the toy back against you. The sensation was overwhelming, and this time, she didn't stop, driving you higher and higher until you finally shattered, a cry escaping your lips as you came undone beneath her. Jinx didn't stop right away, drawing out your pleasure until you were trembling, your body spent and your mind hazy.

When she finally set the toy aside, she crawled up beside you, pulling you into her arms with surprising gentleness. "See?" she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Told ya it'd be fun."

You tilted your head up to meet her gaze, a small smile playing on your lips despite your exhaustion. "Guess I'm stuck with you then," you teased, your flirty nature peeking through even now.

Jinx grinned, her signature chaos in her expression, but there was something softer there, something that tugged at your heart. "Damn right you are. You're mine, babe. Every last gorgeous inch of you." Her fingers danced across your body, tracing the bruises she'd left, her eyes filled with pride as she admired her handiwork. You shivered under her touch, the sensitivity from her earlier teasing still lingering.

"Look at this," she mused, her tone somewhere between awe and glee. "You're a freakin' masterpiece, Sugar. Better than any of those shiny posters they plaster all over Piltover and Zaun."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound weak but genuine. "You think so?"

"I know so," she said firmly, leaning down to nuzzle her face into your neck. "They see the bombshell, the glitz, and the glam, but I get this. I get the real you, all wrecked and perfect just for me." Her words sent warmth spreading through your chest, the vulnerability beneath her usual bravado making your heart ache. You reached up to cup her face, your thumb brushing against her cheek. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

Jinx snorted, pulling back just enough to smirk at you. "Too good? Babe, I'm a menace. But I guess l've got a soft spot for you."

"Lucky me," you teased, letting your fingers trail down to the nape of her neck. She leaned into your touch, her grin softening into something sweeter. "Damn right. You're the luckiest gal in all of Piltover, Zaun, maybe even Noxus." Her playful boasting earned another laugh from you, and she kissed you again, slower this time, her earlier fire giving way to something gentler. The kiss lingered, her lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

When she finally pulled away, she flopped down beside you, pulling you into her arms as if she couldn't bear to let you go. You rested your head on her chest, listening to the steady thrum of her heartbeat as your body relaxed into hers.

"Y'know," Jinx murmured, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back, "I used to look at those big, fancy posters of you and think, ‘She's way too good for someone like me!"

You tilted your head up to look at her, surprised by her confession. "Jinx..."

"But then I thought," she continued, her voice growing steadier, "what's life without a little chaos, right? And lucky for me, you're just as explosive as I am." Her words brought a smile to your lips, and you reached up to brush a strand of blue hair from her face. "Guess we make a pretty good match then, huh?"

She grinned, her manic energy shining through even in this quiet moment. "The best, Sugar." As the adrenaline from earlier began to fade, you let yourself sink into the warmth of her embrace, her steady presence grounding you. Despite the chaos that always seemed to follow Jinx, moments like this reminded you why you'd fallen for her in the first place.

banner: @anitalenia

taglist: @blazemaster4014 @st6rship @axoluxy @1nakitofan @redskye11 @cxcilla @evneedshozierrn @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @raspberry-lava @alduinworldeater11 @m00nd0v3 @idk2anym @emmy21842 @ladey @keysmashsstuff @blkmystery

[heesimp]

omg YES PLS WRITE SOMETHING LIKE THAT IDC HOW IMMORAL IT SOUNDS ILL EAT IT UP

don’t cheat obviously. but send me fictitious cheating scenarios 😋 the dirtier, nastier and more taboo, the better.

warnings: infidelity, creampie.

-

“You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you, yeah.”

Sunghoon’s mouth attaches to your nipple and doesn’t stop his dick from pushing in and out of your wet, swollen pussy. His hair is a mess the more you rake your fingers through his strands to keep his head level with your breasts for him to suck on. The soft purple love bites around your nipples decorate your skin like artwork.

“What’s crazy is leaving your girlfriend alone just because I said I was horny.”

“You requested a second hotel key and gave it to me for a reason.” He pushes his cock until it’s buried so deep inside of your cunt and catches your body when you arch up into his, moving his face between your tits until they bounce against his face. “I know you want this just as much as I do.”

The blanket that attempted to conceal your dirty affair in has long since fallen off of Sunghoon’s back. With your legs spread impossibly wide and pussy wet and presented in front of him, it was hard to keep him from fucking into you as if his dick was a magnet being pulled into your body.

“I’ll never stop fucking your pussy,” Sunghoon promises when he puts your body down on the bed and resumes his deep, slow thrusts. “Doesn’t matter if my girlfriend’s around or not. You call me when you need to be fucked and I’ll do it for you.”

“You make me so wet.” Your desperate confession makes Sunghoon’s balls clench and he nips at your skin when he pulls one leg against his body to caress.

Your friends are all in their respective hotel rooms none the wiser, although neither of you really care if they found out. They all like you better than his girlfriend on the sheer principle that you’re their friend and she’s never made more than a single attempt to befriend them either. But even so, it’s not like Sunghoon would ever stop pining after you, girlfriend be damned. Even if that relationship was expected of him, and even if he had feelings for her for a brief period of time, none of that will ever compare to how he feels when he’s with you.

Sunghoon’s perfectly chiseled body stands in all of his glory when he picks up his body from yours. The sweat coating his skin makes him look like a Greek God and your pussy clenches around him, causing Sunghoon to look down at where the two of you connect. He flicks your clit with his thumb and you moan straight into the air as your body arches.

“Yeahhhh. What a good fucking pussy. So tight and perfect. It’s my favorite.”

Sunghoon bucks his hips faster and rubs your sensitive nub harshly. It makes you cum immediately. “Fuck me, Hoonie! Fuck me, fuck me!”

The bed squeaks loudly beneath the two of you as his hips jolt the springs below and the sound of the wooden headboard banging the walls feels like something straight out of a porn scene. Sunghoon imagines what might happen if his girlfriend were to walk in on him fucking you with such passion and determination to make you cum as many times as you possibly can, and the thought of her standing in the doorway as he pounds into your tight hole brings him closer to the edge.

“I’d make her watch,” he says as he breaks the silence. He keeps his vigorous pace. “I’d fuck your pussy full of my cum but all she’d do is watch me do it.”

“Yes, fuck!”

“Shit—here it comes.”

Sunghoon pulls himself out until only his tip remains and watches the way his dick pulses as his cum exits his body, pumping you with everything he has to offer. It seeps from around him the more he releases and he can’t help but admire the beautiful mess the two of you have created between your bodies.

He pulls out when he’s finished, squeezing the last few droplets right over your creamy folds before letting his balls rest against them. They’re so warm and smooth on top of your clit and the way he continues to jerk his cock despite finishing makes them bounce deliciously against your pussy.

[paarksunghoon]

hyung line requestttttt

Getting high with Sunghoon but he has an oral fixation — 🦔

u get me.

***

“Open up.”

Sunghoon’s deep, raw voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Your body feels heavy as you sit on the couch, almost as if you were a magnet drawn to a surface. He’s holding a joint between his fingers as you turn your head to look at him and his eyes focus on your mouth. You do as he says.

The joint between your lips feels natural. He lights the end until smoke is visible and watches the way you inhale while keeping eye contact. When your lungs breathe in the euphoric property, you avert your head to look at the ceiling and blow the smoke away from him.

“You get hotter every time.” That makes you laugh.

“Are you turned on watching me smoke, baby?”

Sunghoon nods and takes a small drag for himself and puts his palm on your thigh. “Makes me wanna fuck you.”

“O-Oh yeah?” The smoothness of his hand slides up and down slowly like he’s trying to hold himself back. His fingertips toy with the hem of his shirt on your chest and dips his fingers until they’ve disappeared just a little.

Sunghoon didn’t get high much before meeting you. It was more of a casual thing, maybe once in a blue moon if someone else offered and if he felt good enough to do it. There was partial curiosity in marijuana but Sunghoon panicked at the thought of trying it by himself.

Meeting you happened by chance at a party two months ago. It was mildly chilly as winter turned into spring when he stood next to you in Heeseung’s basement, leaning his back against a wall with your mixed friend groups standing in a circle.

Something about your quick whips tugged at his heartstrings. He laughed at your jokes and didn’t mind it when your shoulder bumped against his when you talked. It almost felt intimate in that way. You were two strangers who met each other an hour prior and there he was, looking at your lips every chance he got.

Sunghoon doesn’t quite know how he did it, but he managed to score your number by the end of the night. You called him cute and made his ears flush. When he confided in you about wanting to get high but being afraid to do so, you told Sunghoon to be with people who make him feel safe.

He grew infatuated with you and the way you encouraged him to be more outspoken if he wanted something. You were so cool in a way he wish he was but he chalks it up to the confidence you’ve built for yourself. So carefree and lighthearted, you took life’s challenges with stride and refused to let yourself get knocked down. It was inspiring to see you be unapologetic about yourself. There wasn’t anyone in the world who could push you down because you wouldn’t let them.

Two weeks into knowing you, the two of you hooked up for the first time in the backseat of his car after a night of banter and sexual tension. He pulled over the side of the road in the dead of night and beckoned you to the backseat. Too horny to think, he gave you one chance to pass on him before pulling his dick out of his pants.

There was little foreplay because of the angle and the sheer urgency since you were in public. But that wasn’t a problem because you became extreme aroused when Sunghoon started to manhandle you with the kind of confidence he’d never shown you before. He pulled your panties off of your body and spread your legs with his strength and watched you ooze out your arousal and pushed his dry tip against you.

He let it glide up and down with rushed hips until he was dipping the tip inside. He felt so good even with just this taste. Sunghoon moans and felt your pussy clench around him when he pulled out to put a condom on. He fucked you so hard the car shook with vigor until the two of you lay together well spent, and you had wondered how you could get him to be so forward with you again.

That moment began your friends-with-benefits arrangement with him. Somehow, as he got closer to you, Sunghoon felt enough with you to get truly high for the first time.

It was cute, the way he coughed the first time smoking a joint. You kissed his cheek and told him to take a small breath and hold it in longer than he thinks he needed to. He followed your instructions and you praised him for being so good at listening.

The two of you don’t go anywhere farther than grinding when you’re both inebriated. The thrill of it all is euphoric to Sunghoon no matter if it seems unconventional. You’ve talked about it—having sex while high is on a bucket list for the two of you—and agreed that if it felt right, why not try it?

So now you sit facing Sunghoon as you watch him expertly inhale a puff of smoke and push his lips against yours. It travels into your mouth and the proximity of his lips makes you shudder. Sunghoon keeps his hand on you and pries your legs open slowly.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers as he pecks your mouth. His plump lips feel like pillows. Sunghoon drags his fingers across the hem of your panties, tracing the fabric before sliding his fingers up and down your slit. “God, you’re so wet, too.”

His soft touch tingles in a way that travels to your toes. Sunghoon comes closer to lick your neck before pressing small kisses over it. The sensation is astounding. Every nerve in your body is alert and you’ve never felt more aroused in your entire life.

“I’m so lucky to get to fuck you,” he says against your neck. “I’ve never had anyone better.”

And, well, that’s true. You knew he had a girlfriend before you but when you both started to open up about sexual history and preferences, you learned that Sunghoon’s ex girlfriend didn’t quite meet him halfway.

His confession makes you clench but your words get stuck in your throat with his sudden confession. It turns you on more than you’d like to admit. Sunghoon pulls your panties off completely and kneels on the floor until his face hovers over you.

“Can I?”

Within a fraction of a second of you nodding, Sunghoon’s sticking his tongue out and licking a fat stripe up your core. It’s astonishing the way he maintains being anywhere between dominant and desperate when he’s high. It’s like his brain can’t choose how he wants to act and so his desires come out without abandon. His typically hesitant self is replaced by someone who isn’t afraid to show you how badly he wants you.

Sunghoon lets his spit drip down his tongue until your pussy’s wet enough to glisten. He licks it all up and pushes his tongue harder against you until he feels your toes pressing against his back as you arch yourself into his mouth.

You can tell he’s into it when he allows you to suffocate him. Sunghoon doesn’t resist much when your legs close around his head. In fact, you think he might enjoy being restricted like this because his tongue pushes into you like he’s trying to memorize what you feel like against his wet muscle. In and out does he move his mouth and every pass makes your legs feel like they’re about to fall apart.

He moans into you when he feels your fingers carding through his hair and tugging on the strands whenever he pushes his tongue into you harder. Sunghoon doesnt care that his mouth and chin have become sopping wet with your arousal and his spit. He welcomes the mess, even.

Sunghoon pulls his head back just a little to see the way you look down at him. The eye contact makes you clench and he chuckles straight into your pussy, which makes your toes curl and back arch even higher from the couch beneath you.

He looks like a sex god at this angle and you’re sure some divine power from above must’ve loved you enough to give you someone as handsome and as caring as Sunghoon. His hands are so gentle on your thighs, caressing your soft skin while his tongue licks your slit like you’re his favorite treat he’s trying to savor.

Sunghoon always brings you across the finish line and it’s something you appreciate about him. He moves his tongue with precision, even if patterns he draws feel random at best. In the time he’s gotten to know you intimately, you’ve been wondering if he’s learning about your body every time he sees you naked.

He coaxes you into an orgasm when you push your hands into his. Sunghoon immediately clasps his fingers in yours and eases the pressure on your core once your release hits his tongue. He laps it up like he hasn’t had a sip of water in days and cleans you up to the best of his ability. Sunghoon’s tongue feels so soft and gentle as you come down from your orgasm but the high from the marijuana is still a lingering presence, aiding in your euphoric come down.

The two of you look at each other like you know there’s an unspoken presence between the two of you. For now, Sunghoon smiles at you in the way he does when he’s trying to figure out a way to tell you he likes you without directly saying it.

You silence him with a kiss and hope he knows you like him too.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[velarisdusk]

I Slept with Someone in Wings of Illyria

A Bat Boys Band AU

word count: 1.5k author's note: i have not been able to stop thinking about bass player az, nor have i been able to shut up about it (exhibits A, B, and C found here lol). i am so taken with bass player azriel that this was originally gonna be a one time thing to get the mf thoughts out of my head, but i may make this a collection of drabbles/one-shots/whatever the fuck. enjoy ! <3 ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

The room is sweltering, the kind of heat that clings to your skin and wraps around your throat. Bodies pressed together, arms raised, the crowd surges with the beat, their cheers deafening as the final notes of the song fade out. 

Cassian tosses his drumsticks in the air, catching them with a grin as he leans back, his chest heaving from the sheer energy of his playing. His skin glistens under the stage lights, sweat dripping down the sharp cut of his jaw to his bare chest. Rhysand steps forward, guitar slung low on his hips, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair, the movement so casual it borders on taunting. 

The three of them are magnetic—untouchable—but your eyes are glued to Azriel. 

The bass still hangs low across his hips, his dark shirt clinging to his chest and arms, every inch of him shining with effort and heat. His hair sticks to his forehead in damp strands, but he doesn’t seem to care. There’s a faint curve to his lips as he looks out at the crowd, their screams refusing to die down even as Rhys steps up to the mic.  It’s Wings of Illyria’s last song of the night, and the air is thick with anticipation.

“Alright, alright,” Rhys says, his voice rich and smooth, but it barely registers over the roar of the audience. He glances back at Az and Cass, shaking his head with a laugh, and you catch the way they all exchange a look—silent, knowing.

Cass twirls a drumstick between his fingers, grinning wide. Rhys throws a wink at the crowd, and Azriel… Azriel holds up a hand, palm out, a subtle watch this gesture that has your stomach flipping. 

And then he steps forward.

The moment his fingers graze the mic stand, the noise dips. He leans in, his lips brushing the mic, and inhales sharply. The sound carries through the speakers, intimate, like he’s right there beside you. The crowd freezes, the energy shifting into something electric, breathless. And then, he chuckles.

It’s low, almost a growl, and it sends a shiver down your spine. For a moment, the room is still. And then, chaos. The screams erupt again, louder than before, like every single person in the crowd had been seized by something primal and uncontrollable.

Azriel laughs, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Rhys and Cass. They’re laughing too, Cassian smacking a hand against his drums while Rhys shakes his head, mouthing something you can’t make out. 

But then Az turns back to the mic. 

Your heart stops as he adjusts it slightly, his hand steady, his expression calm but sharp, focused. The moment stretches, and you swear he looks right at you before his lips part, and his voice spills into the venue. 

It’s not Rhys’s voice this time, not the smooth, cocky tone that usually owns the opening of this song. No—this is something darker, rougher, saturated with a raw kind of emotion that makes your knees go weak. You know this part by heart—hell, you’ve screamed it in your car more times than you can count—but hearing Azriel sing it? It’s like hearing it for the first time. 

He owns it, every word dripping with purpose, with heat. His voice snakes through the room, curling around you, pulling you under. The crowd is a blur, the sound of their cheers distant compared to the way your pulse pounds in your ears. 

And Azriel knows it. He’s fully in control, commanding every single person in the room with nothing but his voice and the intensity in his eyes. When he glances over at Rhys and Cass again, they’re grinning like they know exactly what he’s doing—and exactly what it’s doing to everyone in the room. 

You’re breathless by the time he finishes the verse, and when he pulls back from the mic with that faint, wicked smirk, the crowd surges again, screaming louder than ever. 

You scream too, the sound ripping out of you without restraint, caught up in the heat and the pounding bass still thrumming through the room. But then Azriel’s gaze sweeps across the crowd, scanning the sea of faces, and it lands on you. 

Your breath catches. 

It’s brief, a flicker of his hazel eyes locking onto yours, but it’s enough. Enough to leave you wondering if he’s seen you before—if he’s noticed you at every show you’ve managed to get into, always in your usual spot near the edge of the stage, close enough to feel the pulse of the speakers in your chest. 

And then he turns back to the mic, and your chest tightens all over again. 

It’s the way Azriel shifts his stance—shoulders squared, leaning slightly into the mic as his fingers curl around the neck of his bass—that holds you captive. His voice joins Rhys’s in the next verse, a low harmony that wraps around the melody like smoke, rich and addictive. 

When the lyrics take a turn—something dark and suggestive, dripping with innuendo—you swear he looks at you again. His lips curl just so around the words, and the way his hand moves on the fretboard has your pulse racing. 

It’s stupid, you tell yourself. Ridiculous, really, to think that someone like him would single you out of a crowd like this. But as the song builds to its peak, the heat of his gaze feels too intentional to ignore. And then they hit the chorus, when Azriel takes over the melody for one shining moment, he sings a line that makes your cheeks burn, makes your hands curl into fists at your sides. It’s not subtle. It’s meant to be filthy, meant to tease and taunt, and he sings it like it’s directed straight at you. 

The crowd loses it. You barely hear the screams over the pounding of your heart.

He’s still looking at you when the song ends, sweat dripping from his temple as he lets the bass hang low against his hips, his breathing heavy. Cassian slams his drumsticks against the snare one last time, punctuating the end of the set, while Rhysand tosses his guitar pick into the crowd with a lazy smirk. 

Azriel doesn’t move for a moment. He stays there, on the edge of the stage, as if waiting for something. 

And then he winks. 

It’s quick—blink-and-you’ll-miss-it—but you see it. You feel it. 

Your knees go weak, your grip tightening on the barricade to keep yourself steady. By the time you process what just happened, he’s already turning away, laughing at something Cassian said as they disappear backstage. 

The crowd surges again, desperate for an encore, but all you can hear is the pounding of your pulse. 

Your knees are still trembling as the crowd surges around you, voices raised in chants for an encore. You try to breathe, to ground yourself, but the memory of Azriel’s smirk and the weight of his gaze keeps playing on a loop in your mind. 

And then, just as the noise reaches a fever pitch, you see him again. 

Azriel lingers near the side of the stage, his bass slung over his shoulder now, his hand reaching out to clasp the shoulder of a man in a black security shirt. You watch, heart pounding, as they exchange a few quick words, the guard leaning closer to hear him over the din. 

It’s casual—normal, probably—but then Azriel points.

Directly at you. 

You freeze. Your pulse spikes. There’s no way, you think. No way this is happening. 

But it is. His arm extends toward the crowd, his finger cutting through the haze of heat and lights to land right where you’re standing, gripping the barricade for dear life. The security guard nods, glancing in your direction as Azriel leans closer, lips moving again. 

He says two words, slow enough for you to catch even at this distance.

“Blue top.”

Your breath hitches, your gaze darting down to the shirt you’re wearing. Blue. Not just blue—bright blue, standing out against the darker tones of the crowd like a beacon. 

You look back up, your heart slamming in your chest as Azriel straightens, throwing one last glance your way before disappearing offstage. 

For a moment, you just stand there, frozen, every nerve in your body buzzing. Did that really just happen? Your mind races, replaying the movement of his hand, the way his lips had formed those words. Blue top. 

Your gaze darts around, scanning the crowd. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you’re losing your mind because surely he didn’t mean you. But your stomach flips again as you realize—no one else around you is wearing blue. Not a single person. 

It was you. 

Your fingers tighten on the barricade. He had pointed at you. You’re sure of it. And then you see him. 

The security guard is cutting through the clusters of venue workers. Your breath catches when his eyes land on you, sharp and direct. He doesn’t say a word, just jerks his chin toward the end of the barricade, a silent instruction. 

[kanekisfavoritegf]

PERFECT LOVER: The Life of Nanami Kento the 35 Year Old Virgin

MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL GET BLOCKED

SYNOPSIS: Kento Nanami, a 35-year-old introvert with a tendency to avoid social interactions, has made a conscious decision to steer clear of romantic entanglements. However, everything changes when he meets a new colleague at his birthday party, (Satoru's Idea). From the moment they meet, he is mesmerized, finding himself increasingly unable to resist her magnetic presence. Like taking a bite of forbidden fruit, he becomes ensnared by the allure, delving into a realm of infatuation and finding himself unable to break free. As he delves deeper into this newfound connection, Nanami begins to realize that he craves more than just a fleeting experience and yearns for more than just a fleeting taste of what she embodies.

Table of Contents

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

CHAPTER TWO:

You two were a tangle of tipsy limbs, moving constantly. At some point in the night, you had found yourself on top of him, skin to skin, with no barrier between the two of you; Kento felt like he was drowning in you. It was a push-and-pull movement. A dance of some sort, with you straddling him, helping him guide his dick into your dripping cunt, that squeezed in anticipation for him.

Nanami knew he wouldn’t last long, but as he sunk into you, the idea of even holding in the waves of pleasure that drowned him was impossible. 

He came hard and loud; fat globs of his semen shot into you and seeped out with the continued slamming of his hips. Kento didn’t even get a chance to moan your name before he was cumming again. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” He gasped, eyes rolled to the back, and his head dug deep into your neck, licking a strip of sweat that coated your skin. His hands squeezed at your plush flesh so hard you knew you would feel the linger of his pints on you days from now. Kento didn’t even need to ask before you were giving him more and more and m–

Waking up to damp pants is something that Kento hadn’t done in years, and it was just as mortifying today as it was when he was fourteen. His fists still clung to the pillows near him, and his thighs were sore from chafing. The man could only assume the worst, which was that he humped his sheets like a depraved whore, to a wet dream about a woman he knew nothing about.

How perfect.

Kento got to his feet, ignoring the sticky feeling of his orgasm, clinging to his pajama pants to his dick, which was still undeniably challenging. The man moved to pull off his sheets and threw them in a basket to deal with later.

Nanami had placed you in his spare room with some old clothes and a toothbrush, hoping you would be sober enough to change yourself; he left you there with a simple goodnight, not turning back to see if you had closed the door on him or waiting for the sound of the door's lock clicking. 

Kento stripped and went to the bathroom, not daring to leave his room. He wouldn’t dare face you right now, not with a boner and a very obvious cum stain painting his pants. But it wasn’t just his appearance that kept him away from you; it was the sheer fact that you, for some reason, occupied his dreams and made him ruin his bed sheets. 

How could he even try to look you in the eye after that? Nanami’s idea was to wait you out, hoping you would leave in an embarrassed rush out his door with nothing but a note, email, or nothing at all, just the soft scent of your skin lingering in his room.  And even though a small part of him hoped you had stayed, a tiny part of him chose to squash that feeling down to the deepest depths of his soul, where memories of believing in Santa and monsters under the bed went—a place where the hopes of romance went to die a long time ago.

Cold showers should work. Nanami has never had to take one, but he knows they should. It isn’t, though, and in fact, all it was doing was increasing Kento��s chances of coming down with something. Moving the shower controls to the hot side, Kento decided to take things into his own hands. If a cold shower wasn’t going to get rid of his pulsating problem, he would just have to get rid of it himself.

As his hand moved to tug at his cock, images of you and only you seemed to fill his mind. Kento, of course, had masturbated before; the act was nothing new to him. But pleasuring himself was more of a distraction or stress relief. A brief act to clear his mind or pass the time. It was rarely ever a thing of lust. So as he let his eyes roll back and his mouth part open, almost letting out a loud moan, he didn't try to stop himself from picturing you before him, perfectly naked and prettily sitting on your knees as you went to pleasure him.

Kento could almost feel the heat of your skin coming off of you, hear the sounds of your gags as he pushed himself deeper into your throat. Each groan that left him was because of you, your voice, your body, and that stupid birthday cake. He tried his best to keep his moans in; he did, but as he came, the whisper of your name left him, following closely behind a long, drawn-out moan. 

Kento felt faint, and tired all over again.

“Christ,” he whispered, letting the hot shower water wash over him. It felt as though he was losing his mind. How you had this much power over him, he didn’t know, but if this were going to be a recurring thing, he would need to find a new way to get rid of his not-so-little problem if he would have to see you almost every day at work.

***

Fortunately, when he stepped out of his room, gray sweats and white shirt on, you were nowhere to be seen. The door was still shut, so he couldn’t tell if you were there, but he would not check. Kento made his way to the kitchen and began making breakfast. 

Once done, he went to the spare room; each step felt like walking through cement. “What would he even say to you?” He thought as he now stood at the door, the only barrier between the two of you if you were even in there. But it swung open before he could figure out how to talk to you or even knock on the door. And there you stood, tired and hungry. Nanami’s figure loomed over yours as you rubbed your eyes of any remaining sleep.

Kento Nanami never imagined that the first time a woman would be in his apartment wearing his clothes would be with a coworker he barely knew. But here you were, wearing one of his old university tees and gym shorts and looking devastatingly beautiful in Kento’s eyes.

“Mr. Nanami?” You blinked at him.

“Miss, Y/N, you are awake,” Kento said, hands full of water, painkillers, and breakfast. “This is for you.” He raised his hands slightly to emphasize the toast and eggs. But before you could take the tray and embarrassingly turn away back into the spare room, he walked to the kitchen, tilting his head and telling you to follow him. 

And as he set everything down on his table and pulled out a chair for you at the head of the table, you couldn’t help but stare at him. It wasn’t the tiredness that made you want to inspect every muscle that seemed to cling to his white tee, which was a size too small, in your opinion. And you couldn’t blame the staring on being drunk, either. It was all you, all you and your sex-depraved mind that seemed to make your eyes rake him, once or twice or maybe even thrice, as he got you situated at his dining table.

“I didn’t know if you were still here, but I made breakfast just in case,” Kento said, sitting beside you with his plate of food, keeping his eyes away from your face with every word spoken. 

“Thank you.” You responded quietly, shuffling your way to the food and medicine, and passed the man you had only known for fifteen hours.

“Kento, with a hint of concern in his voice, offered, ‘If it isn’t to your tastes, I don’t mind whipping up something new or even dashing downstairs. A grocery store is right beneath us, catering to all building tenants.’ His gaze, for the first time since you dozed off on the train, met your face.

“No! No. It is fine. Perfect, actually.” 

Even without conversation, the silence between you and your companion was far from awkward. It felt quite natural to exist in this small, quiet bubble that the two of you currently occupied. It was as though the simple act of waking up and eating breakfast was something you had done a thousand times before and would do a million times again. 

“You can use my bathroom to wash up,” Kento said as he collected your plates, 

“Oh, don’t worry about me; I just got a taxi. I will wash up when I get home.”

“Oh.” A slight frown painted his face before his expression turned neutral and distant. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to hold you up here on such a beautiful Saturday morning.”

“Thank you. Truly, Mr. Nanami.” You smiled slightly as you retreated to your room to pick up your clothes. “

“I only did what any person should have.”

“Just because they should doesn’t mean they would have. So thank you again.” 

As you stood at his apartment door, you rose on your tiptoes and kissed him, a quick peck on the outskirts of his lips. One that expressed gratitude for his unwavering kindness, and quelled the growing desire that had been stirring within you, urging you to just kiss him already. It wasn’t a passionate, clothes-on-the-floor kind of kiss, or one where your tongues collided. Yet, it conveyed exactly what you needed it to.

“Thank you, I hope we can do this again,” whatever this was.

But for Kento, this kiss burned into his skin like hot iron on leather. The invisible marking of you had been placed on him, and now Kento Nanami was sure that he would never be able to get rid of it.

But you were gone before he could hold you in his arms and ask you to do it again and again and a thousand more times after that.

Preview...

“You make it seem like I am some kind of succubus.”

“You might as well be Y/N.”

TAG LIST: @marikuchanxo @sukunasstomachtongue @getosgirlfailure @allysunny @tojicvmslut @typefeisu @aiyaaayei @villsophie @sillysillygoofygoose @jinleft @rivversin @haikioo @destinyblue-jjk @ramonathinks @actuallysaiyan @actuallysaiyan @melisuh123 @ureuphoriasworld @jaeminsmilk @rileyglas @bonnieblue0606 @alwaysfreakingout @lovelyiida @ayesayman @dreamgirl5300 @swoozleee @belle-oftheball34 @zeunys @yuzu-ku @aomi04 @y0urpr3ttyp0ck3tpussy @zombriesworld

CHAPTER THREE UPLOADED

[growthhyp]

The Transforming Cum II

Chris leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his now impossibly broad chest. His shirt was long gone, shredded during his transformation into a walking god of muscle. Across from him, Zayne stood similarly shirtless, his body still rippling with the aftershocks of what had just happened to him.

“Well,” Chris said, his voice dripping with that trademark cockiness they both seemed to share now. “Looks like we’re in this together.”

Zayne ran a hand down his abs, still marveling at the impossible hardness of them. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He had been the one in control, the one pulling the strings. And yet here he was, transformed. Just like Chris. He glanced up, catching Chris’s smirk.

“You think it’s funny?” Zayne asked, though there was no real malice in his tone. How could there be? He felt… amazing. Strong. Unstoppable.

“I think it’s fucking perfect,” Chris replied. “We’re not just stronger now. We’re better. Think about it, Zayne. We can do more than just transform ourselves. We can change others. Make them better too.”

Zayne’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Chris stepped closer, his towering frame blocking out the light. “Our… essence.” He gestured vaguely downward. “It changes people. You saw what it did to you. What if we used that? Spread it. Imagine a world where every man is strong. Healthy. Confident. No more weakness. No more sickness.”

The idea hung between them for a moment, heavy with possibility. Zayne’s mind raced. He had always wanted to help people. That’s why he’d started experimenting with hypnosis in the first place. But this… this was something else entirely. Dangerous. Exhilarating.

“And how exactly would we do that?” Zayne asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear Chris say it.

Chris grinned, slow and wicked. “Same way I changed you.”

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken understanding. Finally, Zayne nodded. “Alright. Let’s test it.”

---

They found Jonathan at the park, sitting on a bench, his breathing labored as he tried to recover from the short walk from his car. At 33 years old, 6’1”, and pushing 300 pounds, he was the picture of poor health. His heart condition made even the simplest tasks daunting. He looked up as Chris and Zayne approached, their sheer presence demanding attention.

“Uh… can I help you?” Jonathan asked, his voice uncertain.

Chris smiled, all charm and confidence. “Actually, we’re here to help you.”

Jonathan blinked. “Me? What are you talking about?”

Zayne stepped forward, his voice smooth, hypnotic. “We can see you’re struggling, Jonathan. Your body… it’s holding you back. But it doesn’t have to be that way. We can help you become stronger. Healthier. The man you were always meant to be.”

Jonathan stared at them, confusion etched across his face. “How?”

Chris exchanged a glance with Zayne before nodding. “Trust us,” Chris said, his voice low and commanding. “All you have to do is relax.”

Jonathan hesitated, but there was something about the pair in front of him—something magnetic. Before he knew it, he was nodding slowly. “Okay…”

Zayne moved closer, kneeling in front of Jonathan so their eyes were level. His voice dropped to a whisper, each word laced with power. “Look into my eyes, Jonathan. Focus on my voice. Let everything else fade away.”

Jonathan’s gaze locked onto Zayne’s, his breathing evening out as he fell under the spell. Zayne continued, his words weaving through Jonathan’s mind like a serpent. “You want to feel strong. Healthy. Powerful. Imagine your body changing, the fat melting away, replaced by pure muscle. Feel the strength surging through you, the vitality, the confidence.”

As Zayne spoke, Chris watched intently, his own excitement growing. He could see it happening—the flicker of change in Jonathan’s expression, the subtle shift in his posture. It was working.

“Now,” Zayne said, his voice dropping even lower, almost sinful. “When Chris gives you his gift, you will accept it fully. Open yourself to the transformation. Let it consume you.”

Chris didn��t wait. He stepped forward, his movements deliberate as he unbuckled his pants. Jonathan’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t protest. Couldn’t protest. Zayne’s hold on him was absolute.

Chris gripped himself, already hard, and stepped closer. “Open wide,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jonathan obeyed without hesitation, his mouth parting slightly. Chris smirked, stepping closer until he was right in front of Jonathan. With a low groan, he released, his seed spilling into Jonathan’s waiting mouth.

The effect was immediate. Jonathan’s body jerked, his muscles spasming as the transformation began. His skin tightened, his frame expanding as fat was replaced by pure muscle. His shirt strained against his chest, buttons popping off as his pecs swelled. His gut disappeared, replaced by a set of abs that looked like they’d been chiseled from stone.

Chris stepped back, admiring their work. “Look at him,” he said, his voice tinged with awe. “He’s perfect.”

Zayne nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “It worked. It really worked.”

Jonathan gasped, his hands flying to his chest as he felt the changes wrack his body. His breathing was steady now, his heart pounding not from strain, but from raw energy. He looked up at them, his eyes wide with shock and something else—gratitude.

“What… what happened to me?” he asked, his voice stronger now, richer.

Chris clapped a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, the weight of it grounding. “We made you better, Jon bigger stronger healthier confident what next?

[sofiadzzle]

Magnetic Force of a Man

smut 18+ mdni

Pairing: ceo!Jay x worker!Y/N

"Do you know why I require all of my assistants to have Masters degrees?” he asked as he stood up and began to walk slowly around his desk.

"It's because I find educated women incredibly sexy," he said softly, leaning down close to my ear.

Warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, dom!Jay, impregnation, dirty talk, fingering, pussy fucking, female masturbation, age gap (4 years), exhibitionism, breeding, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 5.4k

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I cursed as I stared down at the tear in my brand new sheer pantyhose. "Run-proof my ass! "

Shaking my head in dismay, I quickly looked around the large underground parking garage, praying to God that no one could see or hear me as I hurriedly positioned myself between my front door and the driver's seat of my beige sedan, hiking my lavender pencil skirt up to my ass, and then slid the ruined pair of hose the rest of the way down my legs.

Thankfully, I packed an extra pair!

I sat down on the side of the car seat and removed my violet high heels, almost like I was pulling out the replacements, taking them from the packing and quickly began slipping my feet inside.

The voice of a man said abruptly, "Yes, that's right."

My breath caught in my throat, I paused and turned to see the source of the voice. I was stunned by what I saw and halted abruptly, my new pantyhose halfway up my legs.

He had a great appearance. He was sitting at least fifty feet away from me, yet I could still see the platinum shine of his watch as he raised his left arm to check the time. He was dressed elegantly in a navy blue suit. His shiny black low-cut hair must have reached at least five eleven" in height.

With a dark satchel clasped in his right hand, he confidently walked towards the elevator labeled "PRIVATE." His broad shoulders, confident gait, and commanding presence evoked the image of a male model seen in GQ publications. His whole demeanor was confident.

I could tell that he was chatting to someone else and not about me or my pantyhose dilemma when a blue light blinked next to his ear. He never even gave me a sidelong glance.

I eventually snapped back to reality as he slid behind one of the pillars and finished pulling on my pantyhose. I tucked my skirt in and put my stilettos back on, eager to begin my first day of training as an executive assistant for Park Industries within the enormous, imposing Park Business building. (It seems the corporation required more than one because it was so large.)

I'd never seen or heard of Jay Park, the CEO of the company, before applying for this job. Even though I had looked him up online, all the pictures I could find of him included him wearing dark sunglasses and hats, which made me think he was probably a very secretive person. It appeared that he would much rather maintain a very low profile than be in the spotlight.

Nothing could have prepared me for the day I visited the Park Building for the first time, even though I had finished an internship at a Fortune 500 corporation close to my college campus.

My first interview had been with a woman named Son Eunsaem. She'd had a highly professional appearance and a no-nonsense attitude. She hadn't smiled once during the interview.

I was surprised when I got a call back for a second interview. That was where I met the other executive assistants. Park Industries had an executive assistant for each and every department in the company, and I had applied to the marketing department.

And I started working on the actual job today. At nine o'clock, I had my official orientation meeting, and then I was meant to meet with Jay Park, the company's CEO.

On their first day of work, all new hires were required to meet with the CEO, who was said to like having face-to-face meetings with each and every one of his staff members. I'll admit that I was anxious, but I was also interested to see this billionaire's true appearance.

The thirty-story building housed the marketing department on its twenty-fifth floor. At the orientation, there was another new hire in addition to me. Ryu Hanbin was his name, and he had been employed in the software department.

At orientation, our ID cards were issued to each of us. We were granted entry to the elevators, break facilities, and exits reserved for employees only. My heart started to race inside my chest as the orientation was coming to a conclusion.

Hanbin and I were taken to a private employee elevator and showed how to use our ID cards to operate it. Jay Park's office was on the top floor, and that's where our orientation leader, a middle-aged woman named Won Chaerin, led us up.

As the elevator door opened at the pinnacle floor, we had been greeted with the aid of using a short, stout, but very neat and well-groomed bald guy with a cleanly-shaven face in a vibrant purple pantsuit.

"Welcome to Park Land,” he stated with a welcoming grin as he reached out to shake our hands. "That's what we name the pinnacle floor, right here." He appeared to laugh after each sentence he spoke. “My call is Jinyoung, however all of us right here calls me Jin.” Another laugh.

What a unusual guy, I thought.

He led us down a hallway that ended with a reception table and a small living room area. There had been high-returned black leather-based chairs and a large flat-display tv withinside the ready area. There additionally regarded to be a bar of a few kind in the back of the reception table.

"Y'all can simply make yourselves comfortable whilst I allow Mr. Park recognize you are right here,” he instructed us with every other laugh earlier than sashaying returned to his spot in the back of the reception table.

"Thank you,” I instructed him as I took a seat in one of the leather-based chairs and crossed my legs.

As I sat ready, my heart commenced to overcome so rapid that it felt like it'd leap up out of my throat at any second. A stolen look over at Hanbin noticed his foot nervously tapping in opposition to the carpeted floor, and I felt relieved that I wasn't the simplest worried individual withinside the room.

A second later, the telephone on Jin's table rang, and he spoke back it on speaker.

"Send Ms. Y/L/N in first,” the voice said in a deep, authoritative tone.

"Right away, sir," Jin answered as he glanced over towards me.

I stood up and accompanied him down but every other lengthy hallway, with stylish artwork lining the partitions and porcelain statues each few feet.

At the quit of the hall, there has been a fancy-searching door with a platinum door knob.

"Knock, knock,” Jin said in a singsong-like voice as he knocked on it twice before turning the knob and pushing it open. “Ms. Y/L/N, meet Mr. Jay Park.”

He waited for me to step inside the large, elaborately decorated office before shutting the door behind me.

I stood there, with my back to the door and my orientation folder in my hand, not sure what to do next. Mr. Park had his head down and was doing something on his phone, but as soon as the door closed, he looked directly up at me, and my jaw almost hit the floor in utter awe.

Jay Park was none other than the sexy, model-esque man who'd been walking through the employee parking garage earlier.

I knew I was staring, but I didn't care. The man was a real-life Adonis.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N. Come. Have a seat.”

It was more of an order than a request, but I didn't mind. He had the most hypnotizing pair of eyes. They were a deep, dark br, and I felt as if I could get lost in them if I stared too long.

He didn't smile, but he didn't frown. He was eyeing me curiously as I made my way over to the chair in front of his huge, rectangular desk. I felt as if he was sizing me up for something... something other than just this job position.

"So, Ms. Y/L/N, you are twenty-four and you have an MS in Business Management. Impressive. What are your plans in the next five years?”

I felt completely on the spot. I cleared my throat before speaking.

"Well, I'm hoping to be working a job I love, maybe get promoted, and start moving up in the ranks."

"Hmm," he said quietly.

I leaned forward a bit and noticed that he had a folder open with my resume, cover letter, and some photos of me inside.

"Do you know why I require all of my assistants to have Masters degrees?” he asked as he stood up and began to walk slowly around his desk.

My heart sped up and began to beat harder than ever. He had removed his suit jacket, and his white silk shirt hugged his toned upper body with flair, accenting the broadness of his shoulders.

I shook my head and swallowed hard as my body temperature began to rise. No man had ever had such a profound effect on me. I could actually feel heat starting to build within my core and a noticeable tingling between my thighs.

He walked around to the back of my chair and stood behind me. My heart was beating a billion beats per minute.

"It's because I find educated women incredibly sexy," he said softly, leaning down close to my ear.

I shuddered at the feel of his breath against my lobe. My body was completely on fire for this man, and he hadn't even touched me. I was at a loss for words.

I wanted to glance up at him, but I was frozen in place like a stone statue, and all I could do was sit there facing forward as I waited to see what was going to happen next. From behind me, I heard him inhale deeply and then exhale slowly.

“Ahh, your perfume is intoxicating, but I sense something else about you, Ms. Y/L/N. You are in your prime,” he stated sensuously, his voice barely more than a whisper.

His lips were so close to my neck that his breath felt hot against my skin. It caused a shiver to run down my spine, and I had to muster every ounce of strength to keep a moan from escaping my lips.

Then, suddenly, he stood straight up and walked back around to the other side of his desk, and his demeanor had returned to a strictly professional one.

"Mrs. Son was quite impressed with you and spoke very highly of your interview," he said plainly as he sat back down in his chair.

"Really? Wow," I replied.

"You sound surprised," he said with a slight grin. "I know she can come across as somewhat ‘rigid, but it's all just part of how she does her job. She's extremely professional and would make an excellent poker player, no doubt.”

He chuckled slightly at his comment, and I uttered a small giggle as well.

"Well, I'm certain you'll be a definite asset to Park Industries, Ms. Y/L/N. Welcome to the team,” he said with a smile.

His smile revealed a set of the most perfect pearly whites I had ever seen up close. While staring at them, I almost missed the fact that he'd also extended his hand to me.

"Thank you, Mr. Park,” I said nervously, returning his smile with one of my own.

"You have a lovely smile, Ms. Y/L/N," he stated softly, still holding onto my hand after I'd stopped shaking it.

“Thanks,” I said coyly, tearing my eyes away from his before I became completely lost in them.

He ran his thumb slowly across the side of my hand before finally letting it go. That small, simple touch from him only added more fuel to the fire that was already building in my loins.

“Ms. Y/L/N? ”He called out to me just as I was about to leave his office.

"Yes?" I replied, turning around to look at him one more time.

"I'm having a small meeting this evening at the Italy Garden restaurant. The dress code is semi-formal. Can you be ready by 7:00?”

"Uhh, yes. Certainly, Mr. Park,” I replied, caught completely off guard.

"Great. I'll send a car to your place at 7:00, then.”

I left his office feeling flustered in more ways than one. It had been more than a year since I'd last had sex, and my attraction to Mr. Park was anything but subtle. He had a magnetic effect on me, one that I knew I was incapable of fighting.

I walked swiftly down the hall, past the small lounge where Hanbin was still seated, and into the ladies' restroom directly adjacent to Jin's reception desk. Breathing hard, I went into one of the stalls, set my folder down on the back of the commode, hiked my skirt up to my waist, and yanked my pants down to my thighs.

Panting like an animal in heat, I sat down on the seat and spread my legs.

"Mmm," I muttered as I closed my eyes and placed my right hand on the crotch of my thin satin pants.

Yanking my pants to the side, I exposed my moist, partially-swollen bud and began to massage it. Another moan escaped my lips as I bucked my hips and rubbed my pussy faster and harder.

I imagined that Mr. Park was in the bathroom stall with me and that he had pulled my pants to the side. It was his lips and tongue against my throbbing, swollen bulb, causing sighs and moans of delight to escape my mouth and sending me into a frenzy of pleasure.

“Ohhh,” I murmured softly as I pictured him rubbing the head of his hard, pulsating cock against my slick, hot slit.

I imagined his hands grabbing my ass cheeks and squeezing them hard in a fit of primal, uncontrollable passion. I pictured him entering me slowly at first, until his rock-hard dick was deep inside my pussy, stretching me to the limit.

"Fuuuck," I whispered as I plunged my fingers as deep into my warm, wet tunnel as they would go. "Yesss! Fuck me, Mr. Park!"

I imagined his cock moving in and out of me, faster and harder, fucking like wild animals as we both got closer and closer to our climaxes. Completely and totally engulfed in how unbelievably good the sex felt, neither one of us even cared that we were fucking unprotected.

"I want you to cum inside me, Mr. Park,” I imagined telling him. “Oh fuck, yessss! Cum in my pussy! Fill me up with your cum."

I didn't even care if I got pregnant or not; I just needed to feel his hot cum inside of me.

I was right on the brink of my orgasm, and I could already tell it was going to be a really good one. As I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from crying out in pleasure, I pictured myself biting down on Mr. Park's ear to stifle my passion-filled moans.

My legs began to shake, and my hips bucked uncontrollably as a powerful climax wracked my entire body. I imagined Mr. Park squeezing my ass cheeks hard as his cock squirted into my cunt, filling me to the brim.

"Ohhh," I whispered, uttering a sigh of satisfaction as my orgasm began to wane.

After taking a moment to enjoy the afterglow, I quickly cleaned myself up, left the restroom, and headed back down to the 25th floor to finish out my workday.

I had just finished putting on my makeup when I noticed it was 6:45. The dress I had selected for tonight's meeting was a long, form-fitting silver cocktail gown I'd bought last spring. It was elegant, with a touch of sex appeal. The back dipped below the waist, and the front wrapped around the neck.

At 6:54, I heard a horn blow outside of my apartment. I slid into a pair of silver stiletto sandals, grabbed a small silver purse, and headed outside.

"Wow!" I exclaimed when I saw the pearly white stretch limousine waiting at the curb.

A tuxedo-clad chauffer opened my door for me and helped me into the back seat.

The inside of the limousine was immaculate! There was a fully-stocked bar with liquor, wine, and champagne. There were wine glasses on a glass shelf next to the bar. There was also a small fridge with fruits, cheeses, and other exotic-looking snack foods.

I helped myself to a glass of champagne and turned on the satellite radio to listen to on the way to the restaurant.

When we arrived about twenty minutes later, the chauffeur helped me out of the limo, and I walked inside. An older male host in a black and white suit was standing at a podium near the entrance.

"Good evening, Madam. Welcome to the Italy Garden restaurant. Do you have a reservation?” he asked.

“Umm, yes. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I'm here for a dinner meeting with Mr. Jay Park,” I replied anxiously, trying hard to hide how nervous I truly was.

The five-star dining facility was way out of my league and price range. I had never been in a place so upscale and fancy. There were scores of expensive-looking pictures hanging on the walls and exquisite artifacts and statues in and around the corners.

I followed the host to a luxurious VIP balcony area where Jay Park was already seated and waiting for me.

"You look amazing, Ms. Y/L/N," he said, flashing that billion-dollar smile that made me want to melt right where I stood.

"Thank you," I replied shyly, returning a smile his way.

The host pulled out my chair, and I sat down.

"I've taken the liberty to order us a bottle of the finest champagne this place has to offer,” he told me with a grin. “What are you in the mood for?”

I couldn't pronounce a single dish on the menu.

"I'll have whatever you're having," I said softly, closing my menu and setting it to the side. I didn't want to risk embarrassing myself in front of our waiter.

"This champagne is delightful," I exclaimed before taking another sip.

"Only the best for a woman as perfect as you, Y/N," Jay stated sweetly.

It was the first time he'd ever called me by my first name. I could feel my cheeks reddening as I smiled somewhat sheepishly.

"So where are the rest of the meeting attendees?” I asked inquisitively as I glanced around the area we were seated in.

"This meeting is just for you and me, Y/N," Jay said in a sultry tone of voice. "There's something about you, Y/N, that drives me crazy. Ever since you walked into my office, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind."

I felt the same way about him. He was definitely the most attractive, magnetic, and alluring man I had ever met. I was just too shy to tell him so.

Dinner was absolutely incredible. The food was delicious, and I'd probably had a bit more champagne than I'd actually intended to drink. After a perfect meal, Jay led me back out to the limousine, and we both got into the backseat.

As we talked about our backgrounds, childhoods, and future plans while drinking top shelf champagne, I suddenly remembered that I hadn't even asked him where we were headed. Before I could even form the words to inquire, the limo slowed to a stop.

"Where are we?" I asked, just as the chauffeur opened the door.

“My place,” Jay replied with a grin. “I hope that's okay with you. There's something I want to show you."

Normally, I would have thought twice about going to the home of a man I'd just met, but there was just something about Jay that made him all but irresistible to me.

His house was beyond magnificent. The outside of it took up damned-near an entire city block, and the front yard stretched out around the sides of the house. There was a huge, circular, paved driveway at the front, and the limo had stopped directly in the middle.

I couldn't even imagine what it was he wanted to show me. I felt both excited and anxious simultaneously.

Taking my hand inside his, he proceeded to lead me through his humongous residence, showing me all of the different paintings and other extraordinary decor and informing me of the countries from which they'd been ordered. Finally, we came to this nice, dimly lit room with a beautiful faux fireplace against the rear wall. My eyes widened in amazement as we entered the romantic-looking space hand-in-hand.

"Wowww!" I exclaimed, as I had done several hundred times since we'd first gotten out of the limo. "This room is so..."

“Enchanting? ”Jay stated in a questioning tone, finishing my exclamation for me.

"Yeah! Definitely!” I agreed as I looked around in bewilderment.

There was a bar counter in the far left area of the room and what appeared to be a fully-stocked mini bar behind it. A lavish-looking cream-colored sectional sofa was in the middle of the space, facing the fireplace, and there was a huge matching rug laid out in front of it.

Just as I was about to remove my shoes out of respect for the rug, the lights suddenly dimmed lower, and about a hundred faux candles all lit up simultaneously. Also, smooth, relaxing, slow music immediately began to play. The candlelight appeared to dance to the beat of the music.

I was totally speechless and utterly astonished. I had never seen anything like it before. I glanced over at Jay, who had already removed his own shoes and was filling two wine glasses at the built-in mini bar.

"Please, have a seat, Y/N,” he said amorously, nodding toward the sectional.

I sat down and continued to enjoy the ambiance of the supremely romantic setting until he soon came over to join me and placed a glass of champagne in my hand.

"So? Do you like it?" he asked after taking a sip of his drink.

"Like it? This is absolutely amazing!" I said with a huge grin.

"I'm glad you think so. I've never brought any woman into this room until tonight.

"I find that extremely hard to believe,” I said honestly."

I may be a lot of things, Y/N, but I am definitely not a liar,” he asserted. “Men like me don't have to be in order to get what we want."

“Now that, I absolutely do believe,” I replied with a grin. “So, what is it that you want with me? ”

"Ahh, the billion-dollar question," he said sultrily.

Just then, a very popular song began to play.

"Ohh, I love this song!" he said excitedly as he stood up and held out his hand. “Dance with me.”

I didn't refuse. He pulled me upward and into his strong arms, and I wrapped mine around his neck. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating. I closed my eyes and pressed my body against his as we swayed to the music. Caught up in the moment, I felt like I could stay in his arms like that forever.

Then, suddenly, he pulled away for a moment and looked deep into my eyes.

“Y/N, you have it all. I adore your womanly physique, your stunningly bright brown eyes, and the fact that you are a very intelligent young woman. You are damned-near flawless. From the very first moment you walked into my office, I have had an undeniable, overwhelming attraction to you, and I know you feel it too."

I was completely speechless. I mean, what was I supposed to say? How do you even reply to a statement like that?

In all honesty, I was just as attracted to him as he was to me, but with him being both my boss and such a wealthy, sophisticated man, I think I felt a little bit intimidated. I'd never imagined myself being wined and dined with a billionaire Adonis like him.

I just kind of stood there, gazing into his tantalizing eyes like a giddy schoolgirl with a crush.

"Y/N,” he whispered as he suddenly spun me around so that he was behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Yes," I whispered back to him as the feeling of his warm breath against the nape of my neck instantly made me moist between my thighs.

I moaned as his soft lips brushed against the lobe of my him,. My body was instantaneously on fire for him and he had barely touched me.

"I want you," he whispered as his manly hands found my breasts and cupped them through the thin fabric of my cocktail dress.

The tips of his fingers found my nipples, causing another moan to escape my mouth. I felt his hand on the back of my neck, and then suddenly, my dress slid carelessly to the floor. I was braless, and this seemed to turn Jay on even more.

He groaned as I felt his manhood begin to stiffen against my ass.

"Y/N, you're fucking perfect,” he said gruffly, his voice raspy against my ear. “I want you. And you want me, too, don't you?

"Yes, Jay, yes," I moaned.

His hands squeezed my breasts, and I sighed loudly, arching my back. I felt his stiffening cock twitch in his pants.

"I'm twenty-eight years old, and I'm not getting any younger, Y/N. I've been looking for the right woman to bear my offspring, and you are the perfect specimen. I know you probably walked into the Park building today with your own plans and aspirations for your career and whatnot, but I have to be honest with you; I want you to bear my children.”

It was a lot to take in. He had certainly said a mouthful. I wasn't so sure about having kids with a man I'd just met, but he was definitely different from any other man I'd ever met, and odds were that I'd probably never meet anyone quite like him again.

His right hand slid down my midsection and into the front of my satin pants. I hissed with delight, biting down on my lip to stifle my cry of pleasure. He was applying just the right amount of pressure to my bud, and I was grinding my crotch against his hand.

"Don't hold back, Y/N,” he ordered in a breathy voice. “Let it all out!”

With that, he slid two fingers inside my dripping-wet pussy. I thrust my hips forward and let out a cry.

“Fuck, your pussy is already so wet for me! ”He declared with a grunt, pressing his erection against my ass.

Just as I was about to climax, he stopped, pulled his fingers out of my pants, and turned me around to face him. He put his fingers in his mouth and sucked my excitement out of them. My face flushed with need.

Then he pushed me down onto my knees as he undid his pants, releasing his stiff, throbbing cock. It was large—larger than I'd expected. It was definitely the biggest dick I'd ever seen in my twenty-four years on this earth. But I didn't care. I was going to try my damnedest to swallow it whole.

I caressed the shaft as I slid my tongue around the tip of his cock, teasing it gently, and then sliding it down into my mouth as far as it would go. I sucked it slowly and easily at first, and then I took my hand and used it with the rhythm of my mouth, sucking it as hard and fast as I could.

Groans fell from Jay's lips as he grabbed my hair and fucked my mouth. Then suddenly, he stopped me.

Easing the rest of the way out of his pants, he pulled me up toward him again and kissed me passionately, using his tongue to invade my mouth hungrily. I moaned as he began to trail his lips and tongue down my neck, pausing to lick, suck, and fondle both of my breasts, and then continuing down my belly until he reached the top of my pants.

With his teeth, he worked my pants down over my hips and buttocks, letting them drop to the floor near my dress. He parted my thighs slightly, using his fingers to slide my folds apart and massage my bud. Then, his lips replaced his fingers against my moist, pulsating pussy, and I cried out in sheer passion.

He was so skilled and talented—his tongue was like a fucking vibrating sex toy! He grabbed and squeezed my ass with one hand and used the other to slide two fingers back inside my pussy. I couldn't take it anymore!

"Fucckkk, I'm going to cum, Jay! I'm going to cum...so...fucking..." I couldn't even finish my sentence. His fingers pressed against my g-spot, and his tongue darted fast and hard against my pussy, sending me completely over the edge with the most powerful, intense, earth-shattering orgasm I had ever experienced.

My entire body shuddered and shook, and my legs tensed up. I grabbed his head as my crotch jerked forward uncontrollably against his face.

"Shiiiiittt! Oh fuuuuck!" I screamed loudly, unable to speak any other words.

When my climax finally began to wane, just as I was about to catch my breath, Jay suddenly lifted my legs up on his shoulders and gently pushed me down onto the soft, cream-colored rug lying me down on my back.

Not wasting a second, he slid his huge, hard cock into me slowly, with my legs still hoisted up on his shoulders.

I moaned long and hard as he stretched me to my limit, sliding deeper into my pussy than any other man had ever been.

“Fuck, Y/N, your pussy's so tight and wet! ," he exclaimed, moaning as he began to thrust in and out of me, going deeper with every stroke.

I was moaning so loudly that I could barely even hear the music playing anymore. His own groans became louder and longer with every thrust of his burly hips.

I reached up and wrapped my hands around his neck as he started fucking me harder and faster. It wasn't long before I felt a second orgasm building, getting closer and closer...

I still wasn't exactly certain about letting him impregnate me and make me the mother of his children, but the sex was fucking earth-shattering. I had never been fucked so good before! I felt his huge, stiff cock plunging in and out of me as I cried out in delirious pleasure.

Just as I was about to scream out loud, having reached my second powerful orgasm, he let out a loud, long groan, and I knew he was there, too. We were climaxing together simultaneously, and for a brief moment, it was like the two of us became one in our own world of bliss.

I felt his cock spurting his hot cum deep inside of me, filling my pussy to the brim, but it felt so fucking wonderful that I didn't give a shit. Besides, he was rich and handsome and could fuck like a damn machine.

As we finally came back to our senses, Jay kissed my lips as he slid out of me and plopped down on the rug beside me. The fake fire was still going, and the lights and music were still playing.

"That was, by far, the best sex I've ever had in my life,” I said breathily as I looked over at him.

"Me too," he said sultrily as he slid his arm beneath my neck.

With that, his eyes closed, as did mine, and we both drifted off into a satisfied slumber.

Jay and I continued to fuck like rabbits over the next few weeks, having hot, steamy, amazing sex every chance we got. And every time he came, he shot his hot cum deep inside of me.

Three weeks later, my pregnancy test came back positive. Jay was ecstatic, of course. At first, I had mixed emotions. I was going to become a mother. Was I really ready?

He immediately made me quit my job and put me in a beautiful condo with a view that overlooked the entire city. He found me the best doctors in the area and accompanied me to all of my prenatal appointments.

So I wouldn't be able to work for a while. I mean, babies don't stay babies. They eventually grow up into adults who can take care of themselves. Who knows? Once I've raised my kids, perhaps I'll still want to go back into the workforce.

For now, though, I think I'll just enjoy swelling with Jay's seed, growing rounder and riper by the day.

[leonastarry]

Hi, I saw your open requests so... here i am! Would it be possible for Jinwoo to fall in love with Y/N ​​who is an S-rank in the USA? I'll explain the idea of ​​the scenario, Y/N is part of the S-ranks of Thomas' guild and Y/N would have participated in the fight between Thomas and Jinwoo to stop them. Only it wasn't his intervention as a hunter that stopped Jinwoo, it's that he fell in love with Y/N ​​when he saw her (Y/N too by the way). They don't have time to get to know each other better that evening but they meet again at the hunters' reception (nice outfits etc...) I'll give you free rein on how it goes, but I could see the end with a passionate kiss in an elevator :p

[ Req 15 ] Shadow Entwined ✧. ┊   s. jinwoo x scavenger's member!fem!reader.

Dozens of cars stopped far away from the abandoned factory. This approach was judged to be dangerous. You got out of the car with the others. These were the elite hunters of the Hunter Bureau, and also some of the key members of the Scavenger. But even with those hunters, you and Adam couldn't relax at all.

"Isn't this the right time to evaluate Sung Jinwoo, Thomas Andre, and the Scavenger?"

You shook your head. "Stop joking around, Adam. We have to stop this battle at all costs."

BOOM.

Your eyes widened. "What!? Did I just see the guild master fall!?? Let's go! Hurry up!"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

"Oh" Hellish scene, Thomas was being brutally beaten by an Asian hunter.

Bang Bang Bang Bang. Adam pointed there in shock, "Thomas… Sir Thomas was beaten by Sung Jinwoo."

"I see." You stomped your feet. Thomas's condition after being attacked by Jinwoo didn't look good from afar. Adam quickly asked, looking confused, "What should we do now?"

"Stop them! You're not going to stand there and watch a national-level hunter die, are you?"

You quickly ran towards the two people who were fighting (or rather, Jinwoo was brutally beating Thomas) under everyone's horrified gazes.

"Miss [Name]!!"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

"Enough!" you shouted, stepping between the two men.

Jinwoo's purple-gray eyes narrowed, locking onto you. The sheer pressure from his aura was suffocating, but you still stood firm. You couldn't let this destruction continue. His fist stopped right in front of Thomas. Thomas collapsed and passed out after he declared his surrender.

But instead of seeing you as another obstacle, Jinwoo hesitated. There was something about the way you stood, unwavering despite the overwhelming power he exuded, that caught his attention.

And then, as his eyes met yours, something changed.

Time seemed to slow down. He saw the determination in your eyes, the strength in your stance, the calmness radiating from you. He wasn’t sure what it was—your beauty, your courage, or something deeper—but in that moment, Sung Jinwoo fell.

You didn’t realize it, but your heart skipped a beat as his fiery gray eyes softened, just for a split second.

"Please hunter Sung," you said, your voice firm but still pleading. "This isn’t worth it."

Jinwoo stepped back, his darkness retreating. "For you," he whispered under his breath, so low that no one else could hear.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

The Hunters' reception was a stark contrast to the battlefield—a world of glittering chandeliers, elegant dresses, and polished smiles. You were reluctant to attend, but Thomas insisted. "We need to show unity," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your dress flowed like liquid silver, catching the light with every step you took. You scanned the room, nodding politely at familiar faces, but your mind wandered to someone else.

You hadn't seen Jinwoo since that night.

And then, as if summoned by your thoughts, you saw him.

He stood near the edge of the ballroom, wearing a perfectly tailored black suit that made him look even more majestic. His presence was magnetic, drawing the attention of everyone around him, but his eyes were still searching.

For you.

When his eyes met yours, time seemed to stop. The noise of the reception faded away, and all you could hear was the pounding of your heart.

Jinwoo walked across the room with careful steps, his golden eyes never leaving you. When he stopped in front of you, he smiled softly.

"Miss [Name]," he said, his voice low and gentle.

"Sung Jinwoo," you replied, unable to hide the smile that spread across your lips. "Thank you."

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "For what?"

"If you didn't stop, America would lose another S-rank hunter."

He let out a soft "Oh."

A silence passed between the two of you before he spoke again.

"You look beautiful," he said, his eyes filled with sincerity.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. "You clean up pretty well."

The conversation flows smoothly, the world around you fading away as you get lost in each other's presence. You laugh more than you expected, and every look, every word, seems to draw you closer.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

As the evening came to an end, you found yourself stepping into the elevator to return to your room. The doors were about to close when a hand slid past, stopping them.

Jinwoo stepped inside, his expression unreadable but his eyes filled with determination.

"I can't let you go without saying goodbye," he said, his voice softer now.

The elevator began to rise, but the tension between the two of you was intense. Neither of you said anything, the silence stretching as the air grew heavier.

When the elevator stopped briefly between floors, you turned to him. "Hunter Sung…"

Before you could finish, he closed the distance between you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "Please call me Jinwoo. I haven't stopped thinking about you," he admitted, his voice a whisper.

Your breath hitched as his lips met yours, hesitant at first but quickly deepening into a kiss that left no room for doubt. It was passionate, intense, and everything you didn’t realize you were waiting for.

When the elevator dinged at your floor, neither of you moved.

When you pulled away, his forehead was pressed against yours, his mesmerizing gray eyes locked with yours. "This is just the beginning," he said, his tone full of promise.

And you believed him.

"Will you let me pursue you?"

"Yes…"

My exam has just got cancelled =)).

Instead of that, I'm suffering from the illness 😥.

Anyway, hope you like it 💗

[nadvs]

both sinners (part one)

pairing drugdealer! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug use

summary as a stripper, you’re well aware that someone you know could walk into the club at any moment. when rafe is your newest customer, you’re actually glad to see a familiar face.

{ masterlist }

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The room is humid. The pole is smooth. The music is throbbing. And the seats are filling up fast. It’s a typical Saturday night at the club.

You just stepped out on the stage, circling the pole, taking slow, seductive steps in your stilettos.

A polished ‘reserved’ name plate sits on table in the booth right in front of you. You’ll start your routine and get undressed when the people who claimed that booth come in.

You’ve only been stripping for a few months, but you know well enough by now that it’s not worth putting your best show on until the reserved booths are full. Those customers are the most generous with their tips.

Moments later, in the pink and purple lights shimmering over the large club, you can make out the shadowed figures of three men piling into the booth.

You hook your leg around the pole and gyrate while they get seated, ready to start your show.

Rafe settles in the cushioned booth and is immediately captivated by you. You’re so smooth with every slow roll of your hips.

He glances around, seeing the other dancers, but there’s something about you that’s magnetic. It’s like his eyes will only allow him to look at you.

You’re in a sheer skirt and a scant bra; in his opinion, too many clothes are covering your body. He watches while you sensually sway, the lights hitting your planes and curves.

When you arch your back to pull the string holding your bra together, baring your tits, you bra falls to the floor in a bunch. You dip your head back, chest uncovered and so fucking perfect, as you hold yourself up on the pole.

You’re left in nothing but a mini-skirt, lace panties, and six-inch heels.

He’s in awe.

“Dude!” Topper shouts over the music. Rafe looks over at his friend and the waitress leaning over his shoulder. “Drink?”

Rafe realizes they’ve probably been trying to get his attention for a while. He was just too damn distracted by the silhouette on stage.

He laughs, ordering an old fashioned, and turns his attention back to you.

“Acting like you’ve never seen tits before,” Topper chides him, shoving his shoulder and making Kelce crack up.

“Shut the fuck up,” Rafe chuckles.

You hike yourself up on the pole and slowly spread your legs apart, twisting and rolling. Goddamn. He’s already so fucking worked up just from watching you dance a few feet away from him.

You wait until their drinks arrive and let them get a few sips in before you sink to the glossy floor and swing your legs over the stage.

“Hi, boys,” you say over the music, turning on the flirty, confident identity you always take on while on stage. “Having fun?”

“It’s his birthday,” one of them shouts and points to the man in the middle.

“Oh, yeah?” you say with a smile. You slowly drop onto the carpeted floor and start to close the distance between you and the three men.

The way your hips swing is making Rafe’s groin get tighter. He can’t believe this is his first time in a strip club. What the fuck took him so long?

You freeze for a second when you realize you know these guys. Kind of.

Even though you live nowhere near Figure 8, you’ve befriended enough wealthy people on the island to get invited to their extravagant house parties. And you’ve definitely seen these men before.

You know Rafe best out of the three. He sells the purest coke you’ve ever tried and he somehow gets hotter every time you see him. You’ve talked to him maybe twice, buying a couple of grams off of him.

It’ll only be awkward if you make it awkward, so you place your hands on the edge of the table in the middle of the booth and lean forward, arms pressed against your sides to push out your tits.

Rafe’s eyes dip to your naked chest immediately, then back up to your face. He’s met you before. He thought you were hot then, and he thinks you’re hot now.

“I know you,” you tease. He finds it sexy how you’re completely unfazed by this, not embarrassed at all to be half-naked like this in front of them. “Happy birthday.”

His friend, who you’re pretty sure people call Topper, holds out a folded $50 between his fore finger and middle finger to you.

“First dance is on me, man,” Topper slurs, patting Rafe’s chest with his other hand. By the lazy smiles on their faces, you can tell these aren’t their first drinks of the night.

You lick your lips and smile as you take the bill and tuck it in the waistband of your skirt. You know these guys are loaded. You’re going to make a killing tonight.

You look back at the stage, spotting another dancer and cocking your chin to silently gesture to her to join the table and keep the other guys entertained while you focus on Rafe.

You slowly make your way towards him, the erotic, bass-heavy music surrounding you. You typically let your mind drift away while you give a customer a lap dance, but you’re actually attracted to this one.

The sight of your thighs spreading as you kneel down to straddle him makes Rafe’s heart start pounding even harder.

“Hi,” you say with a sweet smile. You settle and hover over him, mostly supporting yourself on your knees, but sitting on his lap just enough to feel his firm thighs beneath you.

You’re a little nervous, which takes you by surprise. This must be what happens when a customer is someone you have a crush on.

His cologne smells crisp and expensive as you put your hands on his broad shoulders, rubbing over the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Hi,” Rafe says with a stunned grin, his dimples deep. You feel his hands settle under your skirt, fingers splayed over your ass. Even though the rules are strict against touching the dancers, and you’re sure he was told that when he arrived, you let him.

It feels so damn good to be wanted like this by him, to have him touch you. Besides, he seems like the type who thinks he’s above the rules anyway, so telling him not to touch you would be a waste of breath.

“How’s your day been?” you coo, palms sliding down to his chest. Rafe’s blue eyes trail from your mouth to your half-naked body, the handsome angles of his face shadowed under the lights.

“Better now,” he says, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. You giggle, leaning to speak into his ear.

“They don’t let you touch the dancers here,” you mumble to him, “but I’ll give you a pass tonight.”

You pull back to see him clench his defined jawline as he squeezes harder.

“Yeah?” he rasps, the sharp smell of bourbon on his breath. “How come?”

“It’s my birthday present to you,” you say, starting to writhe on him.

“Bullshit,” he smirks. “It’s ‘cause you want me to touch you.” You can admit to yourself that his ego is kind of charming. And yeah, he’s right. His hands on you do feel good.

You sit up to prop your chest right up to his face. Rafe breathes in the smell of your perfume, revelling in the feeling of your tits inches away from his face.

“Are you always this cocky?” you ask. You rake a hand up the back of his head, his hair soft between your fingers.

“Yeah,” Rafe says simply, his careless shrug adding to his charm. You start to gyrate against him, feeling his firmness in his jeans. You dip your head, your cheek pressed against his as you grind.

“That feels good, huh?” you hum.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice deep as he says your name. “I didn’t know you were such a bad girl.”

Damn. You’re actually getting wet right now. This never happens. This is supposed to be work.

“Now you know,” you reply. Your hand slides down his chest, over his firm stomach, landing at his groin. Damn. He’s big.

“Shit,” he groans. You pull back, seeing Rafe’s drunken smile, and seamlessly sit up to swing your leg off of him, backing up to shake your ass on him.

The way your skirt is bouncing with every recoil makes him feel like he could go crazy. You look back at him to see him digging into his pocket, taking a wad of cash out.

He tucks a bill into the band of your skirt, his bottom lip trapped under his teeth as he watches you lustfully.

The way you shake and sway and bump on his lap is making the tension in him tighten, closer and closer to snapping by the second. It’s not enough. He needs to see you fully naked.

The next time you look at him, Rafe impatiently wags his fingers to beckon you to turn towards him again. You obey and kneel over, your faces only inches apart, your hands on his thighs, your ass in the air.

“You gonna get naked or what?” he mutters impatiently. You’re flattered that he’s so into you.

“I can, here,” you say, eager to upsell, “or we can go up to a private room.”

“Yeah?” he says. “What else can we do in there?”

“Did you come here to talk?” you hear a man shout. You realize Topper’s giving him shit, smiling as one of the other dancers grinds on him.

You honestly like that Rafe is talking to you instead of silently watching you dance for him, but you giggle, trying to keep the atmosphere light and fun.

Rafe doesn’t like you laughing with his friend. Or smiling at him. Or even looking at him.

“Let’s go,” Rafe says resolutely. You turn to gaze at him again, his eyes gleaming in the flickering lights.

“It’s $100 for a room-” you begin, but he interrupts.

“Let’s go,” he repeats. You have a feeling you could tell him any price and he’d agree.

You smile and take Rafe’s hand, leading him upstairs to one of the VIP rooms. A bouncer standing in the top level hallway nods to you and motions to a free room.

“No touching, buddy,” he warns Rafe, who only replies with a mocking nod. This man has no respect for anyone or anything. And he makes it look so sexy.

The small space offers an upholstered booth, a pole, and a table for drinks. The dim red bulb on the ceiling seems to casts more shadows than light, making Rafe annoyed that he won’t be able to see you better.

He settles onto the booth as you shut the door behind you. His legs are spread wide, his cock stretching his jeans out in an impressive bulge.

The music is muffled, but still loud enough to dance to in the private room. You toss the bills that are sitting under your waistband onto the table, then position yourself between his knees to writhe for him as you pull down the zipper on the side of your skirt.

The skirt pools around your heels. Rafe drinks in the vision of your lace panties, the way the fabric hugs your lips. He has never been more turned on.

“Damn…” he groans with a disbelieving scoff, his hands sliding up your thighs. When he runs a thumb up your middle, you tremble.

This feels unreal. You’ve given every other man who merely tried to touch your hand a firm reminder of the rules. But here you are, letting Rafe touch your pussy, loving the feeling.

“I knew you were fine, but shit,” he mutters.

You can’t help but wonder if he was attracted to you before he laid eyes on you tonight, when you were fully dressed at the parties you’ve seen each other at.

Rafe’s lips curl into a smirk as he digs into his pocket to pull out his wallet and a clear baggy of white powder. If you weren’t sure that he couldn’t give less of a fuck about rules before, you are now.

“Want some?” he asks.

“I’m working,” you laugh.

“What’s a little bit gonna do?” Rafe asks, pulling out a credit card. “Lie down.”

Intrigued, you follow his orders, settling on the booth onto your back.

“Stay still,” he mutters. You laugh to yourself in disbelief when you realize he’s setting up a line on your chest, right between your tits. He’s almost too much.

Rafe loves the way the powder looks sitting on your skin. He taps the edge of his credit card against the line of coke, evening it out, before he leans down and snorts through a rolled up bill.

Euphoria hits every one of his senses immediately. His lips are right by yours and he gives into his impulse like he always does, leaning down to kiss you.

He takes you by surprise when he captures your lips in his. You smile beneath his hot mouth, enthralled by his spontaneous passion, feeling him suck on your bottom lip. When he pulls back, he’s smiling.

“You sure you don’t want any?” Rafe asks, pupils blown.

“Fuck it,” you laugh. This night has been crazy enough. “Just a bump.”

You sit up, leaning against the cushion of the booth and you hold out your finger, watching as he carefully tips some coke out of the baggy. You rub it over your gums, purposely sucking your finger as you pop it out of your mouth.

Everything about you is driving Rafe crazy in the best way. You’re so fucking carefree and self-possessed.

He shifts to hang over you, his fingers looping around the band of your panties. Rafe pulls them down your legs and sharply inhales when he sees your bare pussy.

He needs you. A dance isn’t enough.

“I’m supposed to do that part,” you breathe a chuckle.

“How much to fuck you?” He meets your eyes, his hair hanging over his forehead.

“We can’t do that, baby,” you laugh, although you desperately want to. You’d get fired in a second. “Not here.”

“It’s my birthday,” he whines with a heartbreaking grin. He palms his dick in his pants, eyes drifting down your body hungrily. “How much? I’ll give you whatever you want.”

You’ve already broken so many rules, and you would love to fuck him, but the risk of getting caught is just too high. You decide to compromise.

You put him hand on the hard swelling in his pants and rub.

“How about this?” you ask, looking up at him through your lashes. “You sit down and I touch you.”

That way, you think, if anyone walks in, your back will be to the door and you can hide what you’re doing, making it look like you’re just giving him another lap dance.

Rafe nods, glad he has the promise of a release, and sits back down where he was before.

You shuffle to straddle him, feeling his hands on your ass again. You unbutton and zip down his jeans and he frantically bucks his hips up and slips them down.

When his cock pops out of his boxers, you nearly gasp at how big it is.

“I got hard the second I saw your tits,” he laughs, feeling drunk and high out of his mind.

“Yeah?” you purr. You spit on your palm then put your hand around his base. He groans, the pressure sending a roll of pleasure through his body.

“Yeah,” Rafe shudders. “You have really nice fucking tits.” Wow. He’s talkative when he’s high. You love it.

His hands move up to capture your breasts, squeezing the flesh.

“How the fuck am I not supposed to touch you? That’s a stupid fucking rule,” he mutters, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples. You shudder, arching your back at the sensation.

“Damn, you like that?” he rasps with a smirk.

“Yeah,” you breathe a laugh. You start to run your hand up and down his cock, arousal pooling in your gut.

“You’re telling me you don’t want this dick inside you?” he teases. You bite your bottom lip and twist your wrist as you stroke him.

“We can’t fuck in here,” you tell him.

“But we can somewhere else?” Rafe asks, tilting his chin towards you so you’ll kiss him again.

The coke is starting to hit your system as your tongue rolls over his, your palm wet against his cock.

“Yeah, we can,” you say shakily when you pull away.

“Shit, you’re good at that,” he grunts, looking down at your hand working him. All you can hear is the muffled music and your combined breathing and the sound of your wet skin rubbing over his.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Rafe’s head is spinning. He takes in the sight of his hands on your perfect tits, the way you’re jerking him off, the smile on your pretty face. All this combined with the liquor and coke rushing through him is fucking paradise.

“You wanna cum on me?” you impulsively ask. He’s still partly dressed, but you’re fully naked. It’d be easier to clean up. And, if you’re being honest, you want to feel his cum on you.

“You really are a bad girl,” Rafe laughs. You meet his eyes. He’s so depraved, but hell, so are you.

You put your other hand on him, rubbing his thick length in a faster rhythm. He rolls his head back as he groans.

“I’m gonna… oh, fuck…” His deep voice unravels into mumbles.

You aim his cock towards you, watching the white ropes of his cum spurt out of him, his body twitching beneath you. The hot liquid splashes over your stomach and your thighs, making you smile in satisfaction.

When he comes down from the high you gave him, he hands you his entire wad of cash.

You didn’t expect your night to take this turn, but it was so much fucking fun. And you have no idea if Rafe will remember any of this. But you hope he does.

{ part two }

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[sushiyuzu]

a lingerie as your birthday gift

nanami kento x fem!reader

warning: soft smut. minors dni!

toji f. version gojo s. version

you weren’t sure what to expect when nanami handed you the neatly wrapped box. he had always been composed, always so restrained, that you never imagined him picking out something so... intimate. but as you unwrapped the gift, your eyes widened slightly at the sight of the soft, luxurious black lace lingerie nestled inside.

"nanami..." you breathed, glancing up at him, but his expression remained unreadable. he was leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that same calm, steady gaze that never seemed to falter. though, there was something different about the way he looked at you now — something that made your pulse quicken.

“it’s your birthday,” he said simply, his deep voice sending a shiver through you. “i thought i’d get you something special.”

you couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks as you ran your fingers over the delicate lace. it was stunning, elegant, exactly the type of thing you’d expect him to choose. refined, but undeniably sensual.

"you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to," he added after a moment, his tone still calm, but there was an edge of something more beneath it. something... expectant.

you swallowed, feeling the tension in the air. his gaze was intense, unwavering, and it sent heat coursing through your veins.

"no," you said softly, shaking your head. "i want to."

his eyes darkened ever so slightly at your words, and your heart skipped a beat.

with slightly trembling hands, you took the lingerie and headed to the bathroom to change. the room was quiet, save for the sound of your own breathing and the soft rustle of fabric as you slipped out of your clothes and into the lace.

the black lingerie fit like a second skin, hugging your body in all the right places. you glanced at yourself in the mirror, the sheer elegance of the lace contrasting with the sensuality it evoked. nanami had impeccable taste — of course, he did.

taking a deep breath, you stepped out of the bathroom. when you returned to the room, nanami was still there, still leaning against the wall, but his posture had shifted slightly. his gaze was sharp, more focused now as it swept over your figure.

his eyes lingered on you for a long moment, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks under the weight of his attention. but it wasn’t just his gaze — it was the way he looked at you, as though you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. as though nothing else in the world existed.

“come here,” he said, his voice low, but there was a note of command in it that sent a shiver through you.

your feet moved before your mind could catch up, drawn to him like a magnet. the closer you got, the more you could feel the tension between you, thick and electrifying. when you finally stood in front of him, you could feel the heat radiating off his body, even though he hadn’t touched you yet.

nanami’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. he was silent, watching you with that same intense gaze, but there was a hunger in his eyes now — a slow-burning desire that made your breath catch in your throat.

“you look beautiful,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through your entire body.

your heart pounded in your chest, the compliment catching you off guard. he wasn’t the type to offer such words lightly, and hearing them from him made your knees weak.

"thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

nanami reached out then, his fingers brushing against the lace at your waist, his touch so light it was almost teasing. but even that small contact was enough to make your skin tingle, your pulse quickening in response.

"this," he said quietly, his hand sliding up your side, tracing the curve of your body, "is perfect on you."

you shivered at his touch, your breath catching as his fingers continued to explore, slow and deliberate. he was always so controlled, always so composed, but now... now, there was a tension in his movements, a restraint that you knew could break at any moment.

"turn around," he murmured, his voice still calm, but there was an edge to it now — a quiet intensity that made your stomach flip.

you did as he asked, turning your back to him. the anticipation was almost too much as you felt him step closer, his presence like a storm gathering behind you. his hands settled on your hips, firm but gentle, and you could feel his breath on the back of your neck.

"you know," he said softly, his voice like velvet in your ear, "i don’t usually indulge in things like this."

your pulse raced, and you could feel the heat of his body against yours, so close yet still not close enough.

"but for you," he continued, his lips brushing lightly against your skin, "i make exceptions."

the words sent a jolt of desire through you, and before you could even respond, nanami’s hands slid up your sides, pulling you back against him. the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the firmness of his chest against your back, made your breath hitch.

he tilted his head down, his lips grazing the curve of your neck, and you could feel the restraint in every movement. he was holding back, but barely. the tension was palpable, the heat between you building with every second.

"i want you to keep this on," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "i want to see how it looks when i have you."

your heart raced at his words, and when he turned you around to face him again, the look in his eyes was enough to steal your breath away. there was a quiet, simmering intensity in his gaze, a hunger that you could feel down to your very core.

nanami wasn’t one for games, and you knew that when he wanted something, he would take it.

my socials: tiktok twitter wattpad

support me: kofi <3

[proxycrit]

Part 1 / Part 2

Emmet remembers when he and Ingo first brought Elesa to explore Celestial Tower, back when they were fourteen and thought they were immortal.

“Allegedly, the bell chime will bring ghosts home”, ingo had told emmet with the pompous knowing energy of a child who read way too much brochures. “It’s culturally significant! We must ring it.”

“Hmmm,” emmet had responded suspiciously. “Brother. The bell is at the top of the tower.” The implication stands: Ingo, there are thirty flights of stairs between here and the top, and no elevator to speak of.

Don’t be a coward, Litwick had told Emmet with the blaise tone of somebody who’s going to be piggy backing off of somebody else. Go ring the bell. Tynamo, sensing a litten fight, floated towards a loitering blitzle.

Ingo turns his lilipup eyes on Elesa, who’s squinting at the carved stone faces of the front door.

“Elesa? What do you think?”

Elesa thinks. She shrugs. “We already made our way here,” she said in accented galarian. “Might as well make it the rest of the way. Ganbatte!”

Emmet sighs. “This is a mistake,” he tells the two in exhaustive patience, but lets himself be dragged into the building.

Last time the twins were here, Ingo caught litwick— but not before she managed to nab a good chunk of Emmet’s soul. It’s not terrible; he felt fatigued for a week and bounced back pretty quickly, but it was the principle of the whole situation— celestial tower’s a pain in the ass and Emmet will stand by that until the day he dies.

Like right now.

The map isn’t working. Emmet checked it once. He’s checked it twice. He’s taken out his pen and written on it, which he would usually never do but desperate times call for desperate measures. The compass he brought spins useless circles. It’s like chargestone cave up here, but worse because instead if electric pokemon it’s all ghosts.

“We’re lost, yyup yup!” He announced to the crew. “I vote we eat Ingo first.”

“I love you too,” Ingo told Emmet placidly. “But we all know between the two of us, you’re the tastier one.” Litwick gives Emmet a thumbs up. Emmet gasps in mock affront.

“Elesa, help!”

Elesa gives the two of them a wary look. It took two floors for her to realize this is not just a weird temple with strange rocks, but a full out graveyard. She’s not very happy about that development.

“Don’t drag me into this,” she tells them. “Teme wa urusaii.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Ingo reports back.

Emmet, who’s cheerfully struggles with Galarian on a good day, simply gives her a thumbs up.

The three painstakingly crawl their way up. And up. If all else fails, Emmet told himself, at least they can orient themselves towards high ground.

“We’re like pidoves,” Ingo gasps. He has fallen behind them on the stairs, with Emmet taking the lead through sheer spite despite his legs going numb on floor twenty two. “We, hah, we are attracted by the magnet of the bell, like, like probopass-“

“I am emmet! You are not making, sense!” Emmet called back. Elesa, who’s stuck between them and looking two steps from perpetual collapse, giggles.

“No, no hear me out, Ingo wheezes. “What if the bell’s a magnetic pole? And that’s why your compass doesn’t wo, woo, hahh, work.”

Emmet stops to rest, just because Ingo is using precious breathing air to infodump. Elesa gratefully slumps against the railing. Tynamo and litwick, lazy in their still small size, have settled on a weary blitzle and look very smug doing so. (Emmet is not jealous, he tells himself. Emmet is also lying.)

“The bell’s important,” Ingo had repeated.

“Okay,” Elesa responds. “If it’s important to you, then it’s important to us.”

And Emmet finds that he agrees with Elesa. Partially because they crawled up twenty fucking three flights of stairs, but also because Ingo thinks this is important, so it is.

And here’s the thing—

— emmet doesn’t remember much after that.

The rest of that trip was a blur of exhausted groaning and burning legs, and by the time the trio managed to breach floor thirty, people’s brains have all but dribbled out their ears. Emmet remembers being disgustingly sweaty. He remembers blitzle almost tripping to death and litwick’s swearing. He remembers tynamo sticking to his neck like a damp towel. He remembers Ingo’s excited sneasel smile, and the way the sunset bounced off of Elesa’s hair.

He remembers the brassy ring of the Celestial bell. It sounded like victory.

But it was Elesa’s cackle turned scream as Ingo swiped cold hands down her neck that sounded like home.

—-

So when the conductor at thirty one, lost and disoriented in the Impossible Place, heard the sound of a familiar bell, ringing over and over and over-

-the sound of laughter-

-EMMET! Elesa cried-

-like a homing pidove, the conductor, thinks nonsensically as something in him perks up.

(Emmet had always liked winning, more than anything else, and the sound of victory calls him home.)

—

Elesa catches lightning in a bottle. Elesa, arms outstretched, finds purchase in her brother, and does not let go.

Emmet is so, so cold, Elesa thinks as the wind steals air from her lungs. (That’s okay. She’s already breathless from a terrible business called hope.)

Emmet stares back. His hands flap against Elesa’s jacket. Elesa desperately drinks in his wan face and too wide eyes and his frost bitten lips. In a tiny, meek voice, almost lost to the wind, he asks:

“Are you real?”

Elesa lets out an ugly sob. Her tears whip away in the wind as they fall. Emmet’s frightened countenance turns immediately to alarm. His shaky grasp becomes a solid grip as they spin through the air, cushioned by chandelure’s psychic.

“I think so??” Elesa warbles. She sees Emmet’s eyes dart to her mouth. He’s reading mirroring her, she realizes with giddy delight— it’s such an Emmet thing to do, to read lips, and-

“I am Emmet,” Emmet breathes. His eyes have started to water. “Yyou are Elesa- Oh dragons, Elesa!?“

Elesa reaches. Hesitates.

Emmet grabs elesa by the lapels and crushes her tight against him. Elesa holds on, and the grief and relief in her accumulates into a wet sopping mess. She’s ruining his jacket, she mourns, but its okay because he’s dripping all over hers.

She can’t hear what he’s saying into her shoulder, can’t read what he says, but everything’s okay because every part of her is chiming

You came back

You’re here

I’m not alone anymore.

Around them, the air distorts as Chandelure’s psychic wavers, flutters, and solidifies. Gravity reverses its call as they settle gently on the ground, dust billowing in all directions.

The ghost pokemon drops next to them, shaking so hard the musical clang of glass makes Elesa flinch.

You fucks, Chandelure gasps. DON’T GO LEAPING OFF BUILDINGS, I AM NOT YOUR EMERGENCY PARACHUTE.

“I’m sorry,” Elesa gasps, still giddy from the adrenaline.

AND YOU! Chandelure howls, whirling on Emmet, who’s still staring at the ghost with huge eyes. He’s gripping on to solid ground with the energy of a man who realized he could have been a splat on the ground.

YOU LEFT!

Emmet winces.

You- You left us, you left me-

Ah, ah no, Elesa thinks as golden globules of light shed from Chandelure. This is what a ghost looks like crying.

Emmet holds out his arms. Chandelure drifts into his embrace, and shakes, and shakes, and shakes.

You left me, the ghost pokemon whispers. How dare you. How could you.

“I didn’t mean to,” Emmet whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Stop doing this to me, Chandelure demands. Golden brine joins human tears, like drops of sun trapped in wet glass. Stop going where I can not follow.

And Emmet holds his tongue, because he knows he can not promise staying. Not while Ingo and Eelektross are still in Hisui.

(In the back of Emmet’s hurt and shattered mind is a spark. Synapses connect. The cold breach of the Distortion does nothing to drown out the sudden flare of hope in Emmet’s chest, so great he can not breathe, so strong he can not feel, because there’s a path. A difficult, painful path through the Space that Can Not Be, but a path all the same.)

“Elesa, Chandelure-“ Emmet’s voice breaks. He wants to tell them about Eelektross. He wants to tell them about the terrible past that is Hisui. He wants to explain how the last five months were filled with horror and wonder and fear and hope.

Hope, he thinks. So he says this:

“I know how to get Ingo home.”

NOTES:

AAAAAND THAT’S ALL FOR THIS DRABBLE. ITS OUT NOW. I CAN FINALLY GO BACK TO POSTING HAPPY SHENANIGANS! (Now you know the shape of their story.)

Thanks for reading this monster of a post!

[tojimatcha]

Kiss it Off

toji smut featuring. . .

NSFW! 18+ -> makeup s*x, squi*ing, overst*mulation, piv s*x, very soft dom toji, oral, etc.

- intended lowercase because i work on fics on my phone and switch between that and a laptop. keeping it lowercase helps me in terms of writing tysm!

- word count 1k+

laughter and bustle filled the air of the lavish galleria event. a watercolor sunset casted a midnight purple with faint traces of orange across the horizon. emerald eyes cannot help but stare at you- your flared sleeve, burgundy dress that reaches the tops of your knees, a slit that teases a glimpse of thighs, and has a deep dip that exposes the plush of your cleavage. but you’re ‘modest…’ and you have a sheer wrap that makes him have ideas he’d love to explore with you in the restroom. you wear black heels to match the tint of his hair…he loves how you look in them.

especially on this special occasion - a luxurious after party for the successful deal of Aven Corp., owned by toji fushiguro- a multi millionaire that stakes his claim in multiple "investments" that dominate the coast.

now, toji partook in the talking and drinking flutes of champagne and other fancy liquor with some of his more prestigious partners, their plus ones and invited guest.

among the bustle of the evening you come to find that with the glamour, he seems to be unaware that he’s "naturally" flirtatious and becoming quite familiar with the other women around the large polished table- and bar. you’ve been on his arm all night, but it no wonder they’re magnetized to him. and with his charisma, he’s entertaining them.

while you should feel at ease - like his drunken colleagues - he’s a player. always has been and becomes more apparent when he’s tipsy and at the top of the world…but could you blame him?

he’s been stressing through the last few months and finally the business deal pulled through. you want him to relax and let loose, though your heart drops at the disrespect you feel is happening.

you pout at the audacity…toji can be a cocky man. he’s humble by nature but is greedy, and wants all that he can possibly get.

his ego isn’t going to ruin your night with him, a hot shower at the flat sounds better than staying for this event and the after party…

you stubbly touch along the taught muscle of his thigh underneath his burgundy dress pants, wanting his attention. mystic green eyes glance at you with a raised brow. wondering why you would tease while he is attentively talking with colleagues. he puts his hand up to tell them ‘a moment’ and turns to you.

“yes doll?” he directs the swivel of the exhale of heavy cigar smoke away from your face. you almost roll your eyes at his blatant ignorance of the way he’s acting.

“i-“ your plead to leave was interrupted by a woman with hazel eyes, filled with lust, and the intent to talk to your man.

“i cannot believe aven corp. has expanded, it’s so big, as your partner, I’ve been thinking we should plan the future of our companies,” she flashes her million-dollar 'camera' smile and completely ignores your presence.

“oh most definitely, Sae. such a smart woman,” he chuckles with a wink and she blushes as toji passionately and professionally continues, “our projections foresee the next stages of our…” you’re so pissed off to the point where you phase out whatever 'business talk' they were speaking about, as this was the last time that you allowed him to hurt you like this tonight.

the sound of toji calling your name brought you out of your mood for a moment.

“what did you need hm?” he gently speaks to you and brings his arm around your waist.

pulling away from him faster than you meant to, you blurt to him, “i’m going to the restroom.” gold twinkled from the chandelier into your eyes and reflected the sullen, suffocating look you gave him. toji’s gut was telling him something was off as he watched your silhouette until he could no longer see you along the ocean of people.

he shrugs, knowing you’d be back. so he waits.

and he waits…

and waits...

every time he tries to make conversation with the nobodies at his table, your face flashed in his eyes- he hated seeing you looking at him the way you did.

though after more than several intolerable minutes without your return and the inkling of you being in discomfort, toji had to come find you.

swiftly, he excuses himself from the table.

through the futuristic corridors that were dark as midnight and had golden specks that resembled stars twinkling. long strides head towards a tucked away women’s restroom on the far east wing near a valet exit, he hopes this was one you chose.

as soon as he was going to pop his head into the restroom to call for you, your beautiful meek figure emerged from the heavy door. he notices the way your hands tightly clench onto your slim chic clutch bag.

he hesitates before speaking, feeling waves of passive anger roll off you. your energy is off putting- toji never misses anything.

"...you were gone for a while angel, you okay?" he decides to tread carefully. as much as you want to scoff at him, walk away and find a ride home like you decided in the bathroom, the sharp venom toji had placed in your heart at his actions, beseech you to seethe out.

"i'm m'kay, are you okay?" being sarcastic, you bat your eyes and speak coquettishly- observing his brows crinkle in confusion and his pouty lips open to question you.

"...of course why wouldn't i be?"

"oh my! i thought by the way you've been shamelessly eyefucking those consorts and fueling their fantasies that you had to have bumped your fucking head!" your voice rises above a harsh whisper, although it did not matter- partygoers we're nowhere to be seen.

it's always been hard to tell how toji's feeling, as he never fails to hide the mix of emotions on his face. but now, confusion and anger have overtaken his features. a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes examine you then it quickly turns into a incredulous humourless laugh.

"babe, you cannot be serious," he reaches to grab your arm but you snatch it away from his grasp with the look of a wounded fawn.

"you have to be blind not to notice toji, i'm done. i'm going home while you entertain yourself." you immediately stepped to leave, definitively deciding to grab a cab. strong hands grab your upper arms to stop you. gasping, toji pushes you against the wall. he's staring down at you in a way you've never seen before. it's cold, icy, and he looked hurt- he tries to hide it but you can tell in the crinkle of his eyes. he paused and you froze.

"...angel, don't leave. i wasn't-" toji wavers.

"y-you were." you meekly state, he begins to loosen his grip but doesn't let you go.

"...i want to go home. let me go toji-" mystic green eyes sharpen as he presses his strong body against you. he's contemplating. the silence is deafening and his grip has yet to cease.

you're his.

"no." he gruffs out.

"no?" you parrot in disbelief, with a pout toji cannot help but want to taste. so he does.

you squeak as toji kisses into you mouth slowly waiting for you to kiss him back.

he felt so good...so warm...his body completely flush against yours, so much so you melt. you accept his kiss and taste the blend of his favorite on his tongue. toji lets go of your arms in favor of caressing you with his large palms, over the smooth skin of your thighs, to reveal more of you by hiking up the silky red dress. his fingers ghost across the flimsy material of your cute lace panties- toji has been wishing he could move out the way all night. toji pauses when you whine and push on his chest.

its you remembering how he made you feel earlier, every overly flirtatious act created a painful pang in your heart so much so that it overruled your lust for him in this moment.

he was trying to distract you.

"n-no toji, i wanna go home." you whisper against his lips. you bite on your lip and stare at his confused expression and it breaks your heart even more.

you push him off, which you knew he allowed you to do, finally understanding you were upset.

he calls after you but you don't turn around.

toji stalks you to make sure you get into a cab by the valet exit and rubs a palm across his face. he feels a strange feeling in his heart that this argument wasn't unprecedented. he would never compromise your trust in him, but upon your reaction he does began to...recall earlier actions he could've withheld. but he cannot help it. he doesn't mean to, but if it helps strengthen a relationship with his business partner that benefits him, which ultimately benefits you! so he cannot believe his baby is acting like this. but the more he thinks about how sullen you looked earlier maybe he took it too far...

-

you're in the shower when you burst into tears.

he's such an entitled asshole who thinks that he can just flirt with other women like that, and in front of you! you're driven to your thoughts under the hot water.

both of you have been together for 4 years and yet toji never really engaged with women to where you thought he was flirting. at first, the way he allowed the them to bat their eyelashes at him bothered you. though then, he wasn't acting borderline promiscuous. he was reserved.

when you brought it up to him he blinked a few times and waved you off, claiming he wasn't flirting, he's 'pushing a deal'. toji held your cheeks in his hands and whispered that he 'only loves you'.

of course he's charismatic and you love that about him. but whether it was the whiskey in in blood or the huge boost in ego at his latest conquest, he still shouldn't wink and flirt with other women.

throughout Bali, Cape Town, Los Angeles- you turned an eye to how he carried himself at after parties. though tonite was the first time he’d eye them so brazenly. how could he do this in your presence- to your face?

does he think that he’s absolved from your wrathful heart!...

no- you pause as the hot steam cleanses away the resentment. you cannot lash out at your love, and you’re too tired to formulate the emotions that arise when you dwell on it.

with a final soak, you decide to see what his next moves are. as that’s all of you left to offer.

you shut off the water and did your nightly self-care routine to at least pamper yourself at the turn of the nights events.

you opt to wear a ice colored gown inserts of your usual choice of toji’s tees-his scent right now would overwhelm you.

moisturizing, you dim the hanging lights above the large california king bed, and snuggle into the covers and that’s when you realize, you cannot escape him- his musk permeates in the sheets.

…

the sound of the front door closing resonates throughout the condo waking you from your slumber. you found it hard to sleep without his warmth and as a result, slept lightly. glancing at the alexa on he nightstand, you read, '2:20 a.m'. quickly, you sink deeper into your espresso bean coloured duvet, eyes threatening to water again. its been 3 hours since you've left the gala.

"doll...?" he whispers guiltily, and you subconsciously melt at his voice. you don't contemplate answering him fearing that your voice would break.

the sounds of his movements are almost noiseless to your ears, but they draw nearer.

he flips on the soft lights above the bed on, piercing eyes inspect your form.

"i'm sorry m'kay?" he apologizes sincerely, "i was being an shitty boyfriend, shitty partner- i don't care about them. i never flirt with the intent to be with them i-it just comes out. shit," he says your name and you hear the crack in his voice, "i'm really sorry. i could barely stay after you left, i had to finish the speech...and i left right after."

toji doesn't expect you to respond and thinks you are actually asleep. he smacks his lips and curses himself for ignoring you tonight when you obviously needed him, when you accompanied him to all of the insufferable gala's and parties, it was more than he could ever dream of- sharing his life and pleasures with you.

partially underneath the covers, you're gnawing at the plush bottom of your lip, biting back the weakness in your heart.

he still flirted with them...and his apology was heartfelt...but toji is a hardheaded, stubborn man.

he does what he wants, repairs the damages, and dismays your qualms.

you hear him shuffle away, opening the doors of the dresser until they descend towards the master bathroom.

'click'

hearing the bathroom door shut and hear the shower running, you frown. the anger you feel has worn off and been replaced with resentment for his actions. he crossed a line tonight. has he done this at the international gala's he attended without you?

the thought unsettles you enough to bring a few tears back to your puffy eyes, and you're struggling to breathe again…

you hope that whenever toji comes back he won't notice your sniffles. a unfamiliar feeling lurks now, the thought of him wrapping you in his arms as he attempts to console you makes you feel dreadful as its the same arms he probably envelops other women with...

you tuck yourself under the duvet and attempt to push thoughts of him to the back of your mind.

...or at least you try to. you didn't realize the shower turned off moments ago.

then, the covers are pulled off your warm body, although it was careful, you turn to meet moss colored orbs that gaze at you so intently.

"I knew you were awake... babe - "

ugh! he's unbelievable. you burst from the heavy blanket, attempting to dart out of the room before he tries to explain.

before you can even reach the doorframe he has his grip on your arms,

"fuck off toji. i am not talking right now." you nearly yell, "i’m tired - please... i don't want to deal with this again…with your habits. i want to rest. we can talk in the morning."

"no, i need you to know that-" he pauses because he's still having to hold your struggling form still, "i never meant to hurt you."

"but you did, you did..." you yell with tears welting in your eyes. toji's heart wrenches at the sight.

"i did hurt you, i know baby. i am so sorry. i never realized how...my tactics are inappropriate." he confesses and hugs you tenderly. large burly damp arms envelope your weeping, smaller frame.

he's licking your every wound- repeating that he's sorry, that he won't hurt you like that ever again. he rubs your back and waits for you to calm down before asking you if he could carry you back to the bed, to which you nodded.

your tummy jumps at how easily he lifts you, instinctively holding onto his button down, arm around his neck.

*poof*

he plops you on the soft duvet and hovers above you.

"i love you..." scarred lips lay a kiss on your forehead, trailing to your cheeks, another to your left ear, then the right. "...so much." his lips slowly descend to your soft, quivering pout. his gentle pecks test your waters.

he pauses for a moment and you whisper, "...do you really?" he senses your vulnerability and molds his half clothed body into yours, his warmth radiating and melding with yours. you're avoiding his gaze and your hands are lightly place on his chest, guarded.

he's hurt that you're questioning his feelings for you, but he knows he has to make up for it- having betrayed your trust.

"i will always love you. 'though i fucked up tonight...and other times." he lowers his voice, "i will prove it to you baby, can I apologize for my behavior?" his voice is soft and consuming.

"...are you drunk saying this?" you narrow your eyes, wanting to trust what he's saying.

"no baby, i'm not. i am never going to do this again." and for a long moment he stares into your eyes, forest green irises reflect shame and regret.

"...promise?" you hold out your pinky to which he immediately wraps his around it.

"promise." he firmly says, and toji's letting out a breath he did not know he was holding.

toji's strong hands gingerly grasp your hands and slowly moves them to his shoulders, calculating your feelings.

now, he notices your eyes and posture softening. toji takes this as an invitation to show you just how sorry he is.

you grip his shoulders as he starts kissing down you neck, soft tongue licking then nipping gently at the tender skin. sucking to leave beautiful warm behind each bite.

you sigh as he massages the curve of your hips as he comes up to leave another bite. rugged hands trace the edge of your gown, lifting it above your head. he loves the fact you have the cutest panties on, only because when he goes to remove them, he's able to rip it to shreads, earning a gasp from you.

giggling you chime, "you're such a brute."

"it's blocking me from this pretty pussy," he slides the tattered fabric off, "it's got to go, doll."

with a shuddering breath, you let toji caress your fluffy breasts as he engages in a sloppy smooch. letting his warm, tongue dominate you completely. softly, you moan into the intense kiss as he pinches and pulls your perky nipples.

"toji, i need..." you whine as you feel the increasing wetness dampening your upper thighs from his grip on your breasts.

"yes doll? you need me here?" he pauses his maddening flurry of kisses to swipe his fingers along your slick, rubbing your clit a few times just to hear the saccharine whimpers that escape from the stimulation. he taps firmly on your bud with force, and it leave your legs trembling.

"mhm yes, yes- there toji." and as soon as the whisper leaves your lips, he lowers his body to be flush against the bed, opening your gorgeous legs wider.

the softness of his lips as he kisses all up your thighs is comforting, and you shiver as he licks closer and closer to your flower.

a breathy sigh emits from your chest once he finally plants the fattest glob of spit on your cunt, and slurps everything up.

flicks and long, long strides of his tongue massage your puckered clit slowly drawing the most delectable sounds from your throat. the firm grip on your thighs tether you to him.

toji thinks the way you sound akin to a bird singing. as you sink your fingers into his hair from his sucking on the nub, the pitch of your voice heightens and increases. toji groans into your warmth as you pull on his noir locks.

his tongue dips down further in the honey that oozes, your breath shakes which each dip and drawn out flick.

" -aah, i'm super close t-toji." you whine as he fickers faster at your throbbing nub, humming into you.

he finds your sensitivity so endearing, his left hand extending to reach your breast, has you teetering closer to the edge.

"ooh, toji, toji, toji..." you chant and feel the white lightning throughout your spine and the warm numb overcome your being.

he retreats to holding your trembling form down so he can get each movement of his mouth to be consistent and to caress you just right.

your subtle gasps and moans have toji leaking copious amount of pre. staining his grey sweats. toji wipes the lower half of his face with his palm, licking the skin right after.

your fluttering gaze has the gruff man lowering his pants and stroking his shaft as he hovers over you again.

"can i continue princess?" he pauses and watches your dreamy gaze softening.

"please continue..." you breathe. not a moment wastes as he leans in for another filthy kiss, pushing your legs apart again to wrap around his waist.

toji breaks your feverent movement of love, " 'm so sorry for earlier doll...i never meant to hurt you."

to which you reply with a coquettish smile, " 'tis okay, toji, i forgive you."

he smiles pleasantly and rubs your sides, " 'm so fucking cute." toji shudders as he begins to rub the tip of his dick along your sensitive bud. pre weeping profusely from the strawberry colored slit. you sigh with each swipe, rubbing his cock all along your wetness.

then he slips an inch inside of the warm, fluffy tightness. groaning hoarsely, he moves up to cage you in. sliding in inch by inch, muttering a sting of curses from how you were delectably scratching his toned back, he breathes into the juncture of your neck.

"fuck t-toji..." you moan with a shiver.

"i know b-baby quite the...the stretch. 'm gonna make ya feel good doll. just - fuck- relax..." he pulls back to watch you go limp with a couple gentle thrusts. he's splitting you open and you gush around his length.

"you...y-you -ah, ah- always do." you whimper as he's already hitting that spot with the sheer girth and delicious length.

he then starts the deepen his hips, and hammer into harder, increasing his pace slightly. toji growls and puffs out hair, trying to hold out, but god, you're so fucking soft and warm around him, wringing and milking his dick.

"toji, toji! right t-there..." you shakily stutter out, gripping onto his biceps, then reaching around his neck. sweat drips from his forehead and chest as he pounds heavily into the sopping mess between you.

"fuck, so perfect. you're made 'f me huh? t-taking me so well like 'ta angel 'ya are..." he punctuated the last few wards with power thrusts, then pauses. it feels like the coil within is about th burst as you feel all of him at once. full to the brim.

" 'ha, 'mm gonna cum toji. fuck, fuck..." you whine as his dick kisses your cervix with his grinding thrusts.

"fuckin' make a mess on me, let it go." he urges and feverently pulls at and caresses your breast. and on cue, his deep timbre has you gushing and squirting all over his cock and abdomen.

the force almost pushes his shaft out but he was grinding you through the last few waves of your orgasm.

swiftly, he brings your legs to his shoulders, "i know you got one more in 'ya angel..."

you moan at the stretch in your legs- "mhm toji!" all you can think about is him, feeling him plug you full and it feels so safe.

he's fucking into you recklessly now, overstimulating himself as well. his fingers come ro dance on your clit, rubbing fast circles. you're pawing at his back, chest, and tugging on his hair at each swipe and thick movement of his dick filling you up.

"t-thats it! that's it, baby." he coos and groans at the sight of your eyes fluttering and agape pout.

the rush of the orgasm comes quick, and you squirt again, whole body warming and trembling as he pounds into you over and over. toji cannot hold back this time and cums right after with stuttering hips. ropes of succulent essence flood your sweet cavern, oozing around his cock as he slowly comes to a halt.

you both moan in unison as he stills, still plugging everything in snug.

"so...how...how was that apology?" toji ponders in the comfortable afterglow. a cheeky smile crosses his features.

you snort and giggle, then moan as he shifts slightly, "s-shuddup ol' man."

[anna-the-undertaker]

Look At Me

My late night thoughts were not pure

Mature Content

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

The grand ballroom of the Demon Lords palace was awash with shimmering lights and the murmur of countless conversations as beings from various realms gathered for one of Diavolo's famously extravagant balls. The air was perfumed with an intoxicating mix of otherworldly flowers and the rich, spicy aroma of exotic dishes. At the heart of it all was MC, whose presence commanded attention not just for their unexpected role at this event, but for the sheer magnetism of their attire.

MC had stepped into the ballroom, transformed. The formal wear clung to and flowed around their body perfectly, accentuating their best features. The fabric shimmered with each movement, catching the light and casting lustrous shadows that played over their form like soft, caressing fingers. From the elegant cut of the outfit to the tasteful yet daring accessories, everything about MC's appearance was meticulously crafted to dazzle and seduce.

As they made their grand entrance, heads turned, conversations momentarily paused, and appreciative murmurs filled the air. But it was not the general admiration that MC was tuned into; it was the intense, unwavering gaze of someone whose eyes had not strayed from them since they appeared.

This particular observer's eyes sparkled with a mix of admiration and something deeper, more intense. As MC navigated through the throngs of guests—greeting dignitaries with a polite nod here, sharing a laugh with a fellow exchange student there—they were acutely aware of the burning gaze that followed their every move.

The evening progressed with dances and toasts, the music a lively backdrop to the whispered conversations and subtle politics played out among the attendees. Despite the distractions, MC felt the pull of that gaze, like a tether drawing them inevitably toward their admirer.

Finally, seizing a moment when they found themselves near their not-so-secret admirer, MC paused. With a grace that belied the nervous flutter in their chest, they allowed their eyes to leisurely travel up the length of their admirers body. The appreciative scan was slow, deliberate, and when their eyes finally met, there was a palpable charge in the air.

Leaning in just close enough to let their words be heard over the music, yet not close enough to touch, MC's voice was low, teasing, "If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I'm gonna catch cold." The words hung between them, a flirtatious challenge, a promise of possibilities.

A playful taunt that left their admirer momentarily dazed, heat rising in their core.

Lucifer

From the moment MC stepped into the grand ballroom, Lucifer's attention was unwavering. The transformation of MC into a figure so alluring and elegantly dressed was not just a visual treat; it was a challenge to his composure. He stood near the edges of the ballroom, his gaze fixed on MC as they mingled with the other guests. Each laugh and graceful gesture they shared added a layer to his growing admiration—and desire.

Lucifer was no stranger to his desire for MC, but he prided himself on his ability to control it. Tonight, however, with MC looking every bit the part of a temptation crafted specifically to test him, his control was put on the line. He watched, almost pained, as others admired and approached MC, sharing dances and conversations.

When MC finally drifted closer to where he stood, their eyes meeting, Lucifer felt a jolt of electricity. The room seemed to grow quieter, the chatter and music fading into the background. As MC’s eyes traveled up his body, the intensity in their gaze was palpable, and his heart beat a fraction faster in response.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I'm gonna catch cold,” MC's voice, low and teasing, reached his ears, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips—a rare, genuine, hungry smile.

Lucifer's response was a soft chuckle, the sound rich and heated. “My apologies,” his voice dropped an octave, thick with veiled intentions. “It seems only fair to offer you something to keep you warm then.” The words, though spoken lightly, sent a shiver through the both of them.

Offering his hand with a devilish grace, they stepped onto the dance floor, that hand found the small of MC’s back, his fingers pressing just firmly enough to guide them closer than the dance necessarily required. His other hand captured theirs, holding it gently but with undeniable command. Each step and turn they took was choreographed perfection, yet it was the subtleties of his touch that spoke volumes — a light caress here, a slightly firmer grip there, all calculated to make MC acutely aware of his presence and the electric tension that thrummed between them.

Throughout the dance, Lucifer’s gaze never wavered from MC’s eyes, but his whispers were for their ears alone. “Every turn, every step, remember this feeling,” he murmured as they moved together, his voice a velvety threat that promised much more. His thigh occasionally brushed against theirs, a seemingly innocent contact that sent a clear message with its precise placement.

As the song drew to a close, and the last notes lingered in the air like the touch of a lover's caress, Lucifer leaned closer, his lips hovering just beside MC’s ear. The warmth of his breath against their skin, the controlled depth of his voice, all designed to entice and promise. “This is but a taste,” he whispered, his words laced with a predatory smoothness. “Imagine what awaits when the night is done.”

He punctuated his statement with a subtle nip at the shell of MC’s ear, a brief, gentle bite that elicited a sharp, involuntary gasp from them. The sound was drowned out by the applause of the other guests, a cover for the intensely private moment they shared amidst the public setting.

As they parted, Lucifer’s hand lingered on MC’s back, his eyes holding theirs in a gaze that was both a challenge and an invitation. The subtle smirk that played on his lips was confident, knowing. He stepped back, allowing MC to feel the sudden coolness of his absence, the ghost of his touch still burning on their skin.

Mammon

As the opulence of the gathering washed over the attendees, Mammon’s attention was fiercely locked on MC from the moment they emerged from into the room, their attire hugging every curve and accentuating each line of their body in a way that was downright sinful. The formal wear seemed tailored to tease, to draw and hold the gaze—something Mammon found impossible to resist.

Throughout the evening, Mammon watched MC with an intensity that bordered on possessive. He struggled to keep his cool as others admired and approached MC, feeling a surge of jealousy each time someone else made them laugh or led them onto the dance floor. It wasn’t just their looks; it was the way they carried themselves—with a confidence that was alluring, and to Mammon, maddening.

As MC drifted closer to where he stood, his heart raced with anticipation. Every casual touch they shared with others had stoked a fire within him, and now, as they approached, that fire threatened to burn through his every restraint.

When MC stopped near him, their eyes boldly traveled up his body, taking him in. Mammon felt his breath hitch, his body responding with a sharp thrill. Their gaze was a physical touch, one that left him aching for more.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC’s voice was a low tease, charged with a flirtatious energy that drew a dark chuckle from him.

“Oh, trust me, love,” Mammon’s voice dropped to a husky murmur as he stepped closer, eliminating the scant distance between them. “If I’m undressin' ya with my eyes, it’s only to think about how to keep ya very, very warm.” His words were a promise, laden with an intent that made no room for misunderstandings.

The challenge in MC’s eyes sparkled with an equal measure of desire and daring. They didn’t step back, but instead leaned in, their breath mingling with his. “Prove it,” they whispered back, a playful yet passionate invitation that Mammon was only too eager to accept.

Without a word, Mammon took MC’s hand and led them away from the crowded dance floor, his grip firm and assured. They navigated through the throng of guests with a purposeful stride, heading towards one of the palace’s shadowed alcoves—a semi-private nook framed by heavy velvet curtains.

Once secluded from the prying eyes of the other guests, Mammon wasted no time. His hands found MC’s waist, pulling them close with a possessiveness that his usual tsundere demeanor rarely revealed. He kissed them, his lips pressing against theirs with a hunger that had been building all evening. The kiss deepened quickly, fueled by the pent-up desire from watching them all night, each slide of their lips a stroke of flame that left them both wanting more.

MC responded with equal fervor, their hands tangling in his hair, tugging him closer. The heat between them built, each touch and nip adding to the fire that the formal setting of the ball could no longer contain.

Breathless, Mammon finally pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against MC’s, his breath heavy and mingling with theirs. “I’ve been wantin' to do that since I saw ya tonight,” he admitted, his voice thick with desire. “And believe me, I don’t plan on stoppin' here.”

Leviathan

Leviathan found himself in unfamiliar waters. The formal atmosphere, the immaculate attire, and the sophisticated chatter all felt alien to him, but none of that mattered when MC stepped into view. Dressed in a sharply tailored outfit that seemed created to ensnare his senses, MC looked nothing short of captivating. The fabric clung and flowed in all the right places, each movement highlighting a harmony of elegance and allure that Levi couldn’t pull his eyes away from.

From the moment MC entered the room, Levi’s usual backdrop of shyness and self-consciousness was overshadowed by a more intense and primal focus. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—so raw and exposed; his heart raced with every glance he stole in MC’s direction.

As MC mingled and laughed, their charisma lighting up the room, Levi’s feelings shifted between admiration and a growing, gnawing envy of anyone who held MC’s attention even momentarily. He lurked on the outskirts of the festivities, his gaze tracking MC’s every interaction with an intensity that surprised even him.

The moment MC drifted closer to where he stood, almost as if they sensed his intense scrutiny, Levi felt his breath catch. MC’s eyes met his in a look that brought fresh heat to his cheeks. There was a pause, a silent acknowledgment of the tension that Levi felt crackling between them.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC teased, their voice a sensual whisper that sent shivers down Levi’s spine. The statement was playful yet provocative, striking right at the heart of Levi’s tumultuous emotions.

Levi, usually not one for quick comebacks, felt a surge of boldness spurred by the charged atmosphere and MC’s daring gaze. “Maybe that’s just my strategy to offer you my coat,” he replied, his voice surprisingly steady and imbued with a flirtatious undertone he seldom used.

The corners of MC’s lips twitched into a smile at his response, and with a flirty, confident swagger, they sauntered away, leaving Levi momentarily dumbfounded and marveling at his own audacity. As MC integrated back into the crowd, Levi’s resolve hardened; he wasn’t ready to let the evening end without staking his claim, without showing MC that his usually awkward nature could give way to something fiercer.

Fuelled by a mix of desire and newfound confidence, Levi made his way through the throng of guests, catching up to MC. With a gentle touch that belied his nervous energy, he tapped MC on the shoulder, drawing them away from the crowd under the pretense of needing air but in reality, seeking a moment of privacy.

Once they were secluded on a balcony overlooking the palace gardens, the cool night air doing little to quench the heat between them, Levi faced MC. His hands were shaky, but his voice was firm. “I’m not good at this... at any of this,” he admitted, gesturing vaguely back at the ballroom. “But I’m tired of just watching. I want... more.”

MC looked up at him, their expression softening, a hint of intrigue in their eyes. “Levi, you don’t have to be anything you’re not. Not with me.”

Encouraged by their words, Levi leaned in closer, his earlier shyness melting away under the sincerity of the moment. He kissed MC, a careful, testing pressure that soon deepened as he felt MC respond with equal fervor. The kiss was a clash of emotions—a mixture of Levi’s pent-up yearning and MC’s bold invitation.

As they broke apart, breathless and with cheeks flushed under the moonlight, Levi felt a surge of triumph mixed with relief. Tonight, he had stepped out of his comfort zone, driven by a desire too potent to ignore. And from the look in MC’s eyes, his gamble had paid off.

Satan

The atmosphere was charged with decadence and intrigue, but Satan's attention was captivated solely by MC. Their attire was nothing short of intoxicating, tailored to perfection, accentuating each curve and angle with a precision that seemed to beckon the very shadows to dance across their form. The fabric shimmered with every deliberate movement they made, ensnaring Satan's senses and tightening his focus with an intensity that felt almost primal.

From the moment MC stepped into the grand hall, Satan felt a visceral pull, a stirring of desire that was usually kept under strict control. Tonight, however, as he watched MC navigate through the crowd, interacting with an effortless charm that drew both admiration and envy, a raw, possessive urge began to simmer within him.

As MC approached, their eyes locked with Satan’s in a challenge that was as provocative as it was inviting. The air between them crackled with tension, each shared glance and smirk making the fire in him burn hotter.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC’s voice was a sultry tease, a playful spark that ignited a fierce response in Satan.

Satan’s reply was a low growl, barely audible above the hum of the ballroom. “Perhaps you’d prefer if I warmed you up in a more... direct manner,” he suggested, his voice a seductive whisper that promised indulgences far beyond the dance floor’s chaste touches.

MC’s smile turned knowing, their gaze lingering on him with an intensity that dared him to make good on his words.

Without waiting for further encouragement, Satan took MC’s hand and led them away from the prying eyes of the crowd. His steps were purposeful as he guided them through the corridors to the palaces library, a private sanctuary bathed in shadow.

Once alone, Satan wasted no time. He dragged MC into one of the aisles, pressing them against a bookshelf, his hands roaming over their body with an ownership that spoke of deep, unyielding desire. His lips found theirs in a demanding kiss, one that brooked no hesitation and offered no escape. It was a kiss that seared, that consumed, fueled by a night’s worth of anticipation and the raw need to claim and be claimed in return.

MC responded with equal fervor, their nails scraping against the back Satan’s neck, pulling him closer as if to meld into him completely.

As they broke for air, Satan’s gaze was dark and intent. “I intend to explore every inch of you tonight,” he murmured against MC’s lips. “To learn what pleasures make you sigh, what touches make you gasp.... what will make you cry out for more.”

MC’s breath hitched, their eyes alight with hunger. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Asmodeus

Asmodeus was in his element, the very epitome of charm and seduction. However, even amid the grandeur and flirtations that filled the air, his attention was inexorably drawn to MC. They were resplendent in their formal attire, which clung to and flowed around their body with a precision that was both alluring and tasteful. The fabric shimmered with every movement, capturing the light and seemingly setting it aflame with every step they took.

Asmo, ever the connoisseur of beauty and desire, found himself utterly captivated. He watched MC with a predatory intensity, his gaze tracing the lines of their figure, appreciating the way the outfit enhanced their allure. The demon of lust was no stranger to desire, but the sight of MC tonight stirred a deep, insatiable craving within him.

Throughout the evening, Asmo found himself maneuvering through the crowd, positioning himself ever closer to MC, his gaze occasionally meeting theirs in a silent exchange of unspoken promises. When MC finally approached, stopping mere inches away from him, the electric charge of their proximity sent a thrill racing through his veins.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC teased, their voice low and sultry, tinged with flirtation and a hint of challenge.

Asmo chuckled, his voice a smooth, seductive purr. “Oh, my dear, if I'm undressing you with my eyes, imagine what I could do with my hands. But fear not—I assure you, I'm quite skilled and will keep you very warm.”

The playfulness of MC’s statement and the charged atmosphere spurred him into action. Asmo took a step closer, eliminating the scant distance between them, his eyes locked onto MC’s with an intensity that bordered on hypnotic. He leaned in, his breath caressing MC’s ear as he whispered, “Why don’t we find a more private setting? I have a feeling that you and I could create our own heat.”

His hand gently grasped theirs, fingers interlocking with a gentle yet firm assurance. Guiding them away from the crowd with a practiced ease, Asmodeus led MC toward one of the palace's less frequented terraces—a spot secluded enough to offer privacy but still open to the starlit sky.

Once alone, Asmodeus turned to face MC, his hands finding their waist as he pulled them close. The space between them sizzled with anticipation, each breath they shared laden with desire. He gazed into MC’s eyes, seeing the flicker of arousal and curiosity there, and smiled—a slow, knowing smile that gleamed with delights yet to come.

He kissed them then, a soft yet insistent press of lips that quickly deepened as he coaxed them to respond. The kiss was an exploration, a negotiation of lips and tongues. HIs hands roamed over MC's back, pulling them even closer, his touch igniting sparks wherever he touched.

Breaking the kiss, his eyes gleamed with a mix of devilry and desire. “Let me show you just how much heat we can generate together,” he murmured, his voice husky. His hands were gentle yet commanding as they invited MC to abandon their reservations and give in to the night.

The terrace became their world, where the chill of the night air contrasted sharply with the warmth of their entwined bodies. Each touch, each kiss, stoked the fires of desire higher, drawing them deeper into a dance of seduction and satisfaction. Asmo reveled in every sigh and shiver he drew from MC, each response fueling his own desire to give more and to take even more still.

Beelzebub

Beelzebub’s usually single-minded focus on food was uncharacteristically diverted. The catalyst was MC, stepping out in a form-fitting ensemble that seemed designed to torment him with desires far more complex than his usual cravings. The attire clung and draped in all the right places, emphasizing each curve and line with an elegance that was both tantalizing and exquisite. The rich fabric caught the light with every movement, casting a spell over Beel’s senses that was both bewildering and intoxicating.

From the moment MC entered, Beel found himself watching them with an intensity that felt like hunger but deeper. He was used to feeling physical hunger, but this was different; it was a visceral pull that anchored him to the spot every time MC laughed or danced, their joy and charisma lighting up the room more effectively than any chandelier.

Throughout the evening, Beel’s gaze followed MC, tracking their interactions with a mix of admiration and something fiercer that he couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t just their physical appearance that captivated him; it was the way they moved with such confidence and ease, the way they engaged so effortlessly with everyone around them. It stirred something primal within him, a yearning to be close, to be the one who made them laugh, to feel the warmth of their body against his.

When MC finally drifted towards where he stood, seemingly casual but surely aware of the effect they were having on him, Beel’s heart pounded with a mix of nervous anticipation and raw desire. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the clamor of the ball seemed to quiet just for them.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC teased, their voice a sultry murmur that reverberated through Beel’s frame like a physical touch.

Beel, usually straightforward with his thoughts and affections, felt shyness overtaken by the urgency of his feelings. “I, uh...” he started, his voice a low rumble, “I was just thinking how I’d like to keep you warm.” The words came out rougher than he intended, his intense gaze locked on MC’s, leaving little room for doubt about his intentions.

The playful challenge in MC’s eyes sparked a courage in Beel that he seldom felt outside of battle. With a newfound determination, he took a step closer, effectively closing the distance between them. “Maybe we should find somewhere less crowded,” he suggested.

MC’s smile widened, and they placed a hand lightly on Beel’s chest—a touch that sent a jolt of electricity through him. “Lead the way,” they replied, their voice laced with anticipation.

Without another word, Beel guided MC away from the bustling ballroom, through ornate corridors, to a quiet balcony overlooking the palace’s vast gardens. The cool night air was a stark contrast to the warmth bubbling between them, adding a thrill that made their secluded spot feel even more intimate.

Once alone, Beel’s hands found MC’s waist, pulling them close with a gentle but firm grip that spoke of need and affection. He lowered his head, his lips finding MC’s in a kiss that was both a question and an answer, a merging of hunger and affection that deepened as they responded with equal fervor.

The kiss grew more passionate, driven by the raw, earnest desire that Beel often kept hidden under his calm exterior. His large hands were cautious yet eager as they explored MC’s body, drawing them even closer, if possible. MC’s hands roamed over his shoulders and chest, their touch igniting fires along every nerve.

As they finally broke apart for air, Beel rested his forehead against MC’s, his breath heavy and warm against their skin. “I... I don’t want this night to end,” he confessed, his voice a husky whisper that carried his deepest fears and wishes.

MC looked up at him, their eyes shining with a mixture of pleasure and something tender. “Then let’s not let it end just yet,” they whispered back, pulling him in for another kiss.

Belphegor

Amidst the glamour and revelry, Belphegor found himself in a rare state of heightened awareness, entirely fixated on MC. Draped in an outfit that seemed to defy the mere concept of formal wear with its daring elegance, MC moved through the crowd like a living temptation. The way the material clung to their body and highlighted every movement with a tantalizing grace had Belphie's usual lethargy replaced with an uncharacteristic surge of desire.

Belphie, often aloof and withdrawn, wasn't one for public displays of affection. Yet, tonight, as he watched MC, a deep-seated restlessness took hold. His gaze, usually sleepy and distant, sharpened considerably as he traced the lines of MC's form from across the room, his eyes darkening with each flirtatious laugh and turn they shared with others.

When MC eventually approached him, threading through the throngs of demons and other creatures with an ease that spoke of their comfort in this infernal court, Belphie’s usual cool demeanor wavered. Their eyes met, locking in place.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC said, their voice low and charged with a playful yet provocative undertone. It was a challenge, delivered with a coy tilt of the head and a smirk that beckoned him closer.

Belphie’s response was a slow, mischievous smile, one that often graced his features. “I think you’d find I’m good at keeping things heated,” he murmured back, his voice a soft growl that matched the predatory gleam in his eyes. His usual indolence was nowhere found as he stepped into MC's personal space, the air between them charged with an electric anticipation.

Without waiting for further encouragement, Belphie's hand found the small of MC's back, pulling them flush against him. The contact was bold, possessive, and sparked a heat that neither the coolness of the night nor the prying eyes around them could dampen.

“Let’s find somewhere more... secluded. I’d hate for you to freeze,” Belphie suggested, his words dripping with an intent as intoxicating as it was clear. His grip tightened slightly, not enough to restrain but enough to convey his unwillingness to let the moment slip away.

MC’s eyes glinted with excitement at the suggestion. With a nod that sealed their mutual consent, they allowed Belphie to lead them away from the crowd. They moved together through lesser-known corridors of the palace, each step building a simmering anticipation.

Reaching an empty bedroom, Belphie turned to MC, his hands framing their face as he leaned in. The kiss he planted on their lips was not gentle—it was demanding, fervent, and deeply passionate, seeking to claim and be claimed in equal measure.

The kiss broke only for the need for air, their breaths mingling. Belphie’s hands wandered, tracing MC’s sides, pulling them closer still. “I don’t do half-measures,” he breathed against their lips, his gaze locked onto theirs with a raw intensity. “I want all of you, here, now.”

Diavolo

This event marked by opulence and spectacle, was a night where the Devildom's elite gathered to revel in their ruler's grandeur and for the exchange program to be celebrated. Diavolo himself, with his immense power and charisma, was accustomed to being the center of attention. Yet, tonight, his focus was entirely captivated by MC, who had arrived looking nothing short of stunning. Their formal wear was not just clothing but a statement, crafted to accentuate every curve and line with impeccable taste, shimmering under the chandeliers' glow as if woven from the night sky itself.

From the moment MC stepped into the grand hall, Diavolo found himself watching them, a feeling of awe mingling with a deeper, more primal interest. The way MC moved through the crowd, with a grace and confidence that matched his own, struck a chord within him, igniting a desire to see them not across the room, but by his side.

As the evening progressed, Diavolo’s usual rounds of greeting and politicking felt unusually tedious, his gaze repeatedly seeking out MC. Their laughter, the easy way they conversed with other guests, even the subtle gestures they made, all seemed to draw him in deeper. When MC finally approached him, their eyes locking, Diavolo felt the full weight of his position as the host. Yet, at that moment, he wished nothing more than to cast aside the formalities and indulge in the connection that simmered between them.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC teased, their voice a perfect blend of humor and seduction that fit the night's festive air.

Diavolo chuckled, a sound deep and resonant that filled the space between them. “Is that so? Perhaps it would be more prudent, then, to find somewhere warmer where such dangers can be thoroughly mitigated,” he replied, his tone smooth and inviting. The underlying suggestion was clear, his words a velvet-lined invitation to escape the public eye.

The playful challenge in MC’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed. They leaned in slightly, a conspiratorial smirk playing on their lips. “Lead the way, then, My Lord.”

With a hand extended in offer, Diavolo guided MC away from the throngs of guests, his touch firm yet careful, as if he were handling something precious and infinitely valuable. They navigated through the opulent corridors of his palace, each step taking them further from the noise and closer to solitude.

Diavolo chose his private office for its seclusion and comfort—a space where his rule was absolute and interruptions were forbidden. As he closed the door behind them, the sound seemed to seal them away from the rest of the world.

Turning to face MC, Diavolo’s gaze was intense, his usual affable demeanor replaced by a more predatory grace. He stepped closer, the confined space of the office suddenly charged with the energy of their proximity.

Without waiting for further banter, Diavolo’s hands found MC’s waist, pulling them flush against him. His lips found theirs in a claiming kiss, deep and urgent, as if he could communicate his rising desire and the depth of his attraction through this contact alone. His kiss was a mastery of pressure and movement, a clear dominion of experience and longing that coaxed MC to respond with equal fervor.

MC’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss into a fervent clash of lips and tongues. Diavolo’s control slipped further with each moment, his hands roaming over MC’s body, tracing the lines of their outfit, appreciating the way the material accentuated their every curve and hollow.

As he broke the kiss, his breaths were heavy, his forehead resting against MC’s. “I’ve wanted this since I first laid eyes on you” he confessed, his voice husky. His fingers deftly worked at loosening his tie, his actions deliberate and tantalizingly slow. “And now that I have you here, I have no intention of holding back.”

He guided MC’s hands to his shirt, inviting them to feel, to explore. As their fingers brushed against his chest, Diavolo maneuvered them toward his desk, sweeping aside papers and artifacts of his rule with a careless flick of his wrist. The message was clear: nothing was more important than the here and now.

Lifting MC onto the desk, Diavolo’s lips trailed kisses down their neck, his hands busy at the task of divesting them of the beautiful yet confining layers of fabric. Each revealed inch of skin was worshipped with kisses and touches that left MC breathless and craving more.

Barbatos

Barbatos moved with the poised elegance that was his hallmark, overseeing the intricacies of the event with an expert eye. However, his usual demeanor of unshakeable calm was disrupted by the entrance of MC, who captivated his attention entirely. Dressed in an ensemble that was was both elegant and tantalizing, MC moved through the crowd with a grace that drew eyes from every corner of the room. The way the material clung to their figure, accentuating every move with subtle allure, left Barbatos more affected than he cared to admit.

Throughout the evening, Barbatos allowed himself the rare luxury of observing MC from afar, appreciating the way they interacted with the other guests. His duties often required him to remain at the periphery, but tonight, his attention invariably returned to MC, their presence pulling at something deep within him.

Then MC approached him, a playful glint in their eye. “If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC teased, their voice low and charged with a hint of flirtation.

A slight smile tugged at Barbatos's lips, the expression rare and fleeting. “It would be most remiss of me to allow that,” he replied smoothly. His voice, though low and controlled, carried a warmth that matched his words. “Perhaps a change of environment is in order.”

With a discreet gesture to the little D’s, Barbatos ensured that their journey would be undisturbed. The diminutive demons nodded, their understanding clear—they would ensure no one ventured towards the kitchens, a domain ordinarily under Barbatos's strict control but tonight serving a different purpose.

Guiding MC with a hand at the small of their back, Barbatos led them through the less frequented corridors of the palace to the expansive kitchen. The room was deserted at this hour, the earlier frenzy of preparation for the ball having given way to silence and warmth retained from the day’s cooking.

“Here we are,” Barbatos announced as he closed the door behind them, the click of the latch a definitive note of privacy. The kitchen, with its large ovens and warm hearths, offered a comforting heat that enveloped them—a stark contrast to the cool elegance of the ballroom they had left behind.

Turning to face MC, Barbatos’s demeanor shifted subtly, the lines of his usual reserve softening as he stepped closer. “Much better,” he murmured, the space between them charged with the heat of the room and the heat of his gaze. His hands rose to gently grasp MC’s chin, his touch deft yet filled with a tentative question.

The response was immediate and fervent, MC leaning into the touch, their hands finding his sides. Barbatos leaned in, his lips capturing theirs in a kiss that was exploratory at first but quickly deepened with a shared urgency. The kitchen, a place of culinary creation, became their sanctuary, the stainless steel and polished surfaces bearing witness to a different kind of chemistry.

Barbatos's kisses were meticulous, each one placed with intention and care, exploring the depth of MC's response. His hands, always precise, mapped the contours of MC’s body with equal skill, pulling them closer, their bodies aligning with natural, magnetic precision.

As the kiss broke, Barbatos whispered against MC’s lips, his breath warm, “I find myself desiring more than just your company tonight.” His hands ventured further, undressing MC with a careful urgency that belied his outward composure.

The kitchen became a world unto itself, the counters and islands, once used for preparing decadent dishes, now supported a different feast entirely.

Simeon

Simeon found himself taken aback by MC's stunning presence. They wore an ensemble that seemed to capture the very essence of celestial grace—elegant, yet charged with an undercurrent that seemed almost out of place in the infernal opulence of the Devildom. The fabric played with the light as they moved, enhancing their inherent radiance and drawing Simeon's admiring gaze.

Throughout the evening, Simeon maintained a respectful distance, his admiration expressed through brief, appreciative glances rather than overt attention.

When MC finally approached Simeon, there was a softness in their eyes that matched the gentle timbre of their voice. "If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold," they teased, the playful challenge delivered with a warmth that brought a tender smile to Simeon's face.

Simeon chuckled softly, his blue eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and affection. "Then it is my duty to ensure you remain warm and well," he replied, his voice low but filled with gentle warmth. "Perhaps a dance would suffice to keep the chill at bay?"

Accepting his outstretched hand, MC allowed Simeon to lead them to the dance floor. As they moved together in rhythm to the soft strains of a demonic melody, Simeon was acutely aware of every point of contact—the gentle touch of MC's hand in his, the slight pressure of their hand on his shoulder, the closeness of their form as they moved in harmony. The dance was a quiet conversation, their bodies speaking in subtle shifts and turns.

As the song drew to a close, Simeon felt a reluctance to part, a sentiment he sensed was shared. His hand lingered in MC's as he led them away from the dance floor to a quieter corner of the ballroom, a secluded alcove framed by opulent draperies.

"Thank you for the dance," Simeon said softly, standing close enough that their mingled breaths warmed the cool air between them. His hand reached up to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind MC's ear, a tender gesture that belied the depth of his affection. "Your company, as always, is a blessing."

The air around them seemed to hum with a quiet energy as Simeon leaned closer, his gaze fixed on MC's lips for a fleeting moment before meeting their eyes again, seeking silent permission. Finding no hesitation, only quiet acceptance, he closed the distance between them, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to their lips.

The kiss was gentle, a mere brush of lips that spoke of respect and a deep-seated fondness, yet it held the promise of deeper affections held carefully in check. As they parted, Simeon’s smile was serene, reflecting the peace that their presence brought him.

"If the evening grows too cold or the festivities too wearying, know that my company is yours whenever you seek tranquility," Simeon offered, his voice a soothing balm against the backdrop of the night's revelries.

Solomon

Solomon was already weaving his own brand of mischief among the glittering throng of demons and other supernatural beings. However, his playful antics paused, and his cunning eyes fixed with a sharper intent when MC made their entrance. Dressed in a form-fitting outfit that seemed to draw every gaze in the room, MC was an intoxicating vision of allure. The fabric shimmered with each movement, hugging their form in a way that left little to the imagination and much to Solomon's appreciation.

Throughout the evening, Solomon’s usual facade of nonchalance was punctuated by his keen interest in MC. He used his mastery of magic not just to entertain and dazzle the crowd but to send little magical teases toward MC—slight gusts of wind to flirt with the hem of their outfit, or a whispered incantation that made the air around them subtly shimmer, all designed to draw a laugh or a delightful shiver from them.

When MC approached, their eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and challenge, Solomon was ready with a wry smile. “If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC quipped, their voice low and teasing, yet laced with a warmth that matched the heat of the ballroom.

Solomon’s laughter was genuine, resonating with his usual charismatic resonance. “Oh, I suspect there are more enjoyable ways to keep warm than mere clothes can provide,” he retorted smoothly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “But if it’s warmth you’re after, I know a few enchanting tricks that could help.”

Without waiting for a response, Solomon’s hand waved discreetly, casting a subtle spell that caused the air around them to warm noticeably. The immediate area around MC felt like a gentle embrace, a magical cocoon that made the ambient noise of the ball seem distant.

“Shall we put some of these tricks to the test?” Solomon suggested, offering his arm with an inviting grin. MC took his arm, and together they strolled to a quieter corner of the ballroom. As they walked, Solomon whispered incantations, enchanting the path with small, glowing sigils that sparked under their steps, a private light show that added an element of wonder to their walk.

Once secluded from the majority of the guests, Solomon’s demeanor shifted from the grand sorcerer to something more intensely focused. His hand reached up to gently brush a strand of hair from MC’s face, his touch lingering longer than necessary, charged with a potent energy.

“Now, about keeping you warm,” he murmured, leaning closer so that his breath tickled MC’s ear. His fingers traced a spell in the air, a visible shimmer of magic that danced like fireflies around MC, heating the air with a sensual warmth that made the fabric of their clothes feel suddenly too much.

The kiss that followed was a melding of magic and desire—deep and consuming. Solomon’s lips moved against MC’s with an expert mix of precision and passion, his tongue tracing spells of arousal that left them both breathless. His hands were not idle, exploring MC’s back and sides, where each touch left a trail of warmth that seeped through the fabric, heating their skin directly.

As they parted from the kiss, Solomon looked into MC’s eyes with an expression that was both tender and wild. “There are deeper spells we could explore, spells that require... much less distraction,” he teased, his voice a soft growl that promised much more than the warmth of his teasing tricks.

[thefandomsfervent]

JayVik x Reader Personal Pigments (Part 22) - Cobalt Blue

Ft. Lovey Dovey Jayce perspective, reader stupid yearning, and a visit from Mel <3

Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom.

As much as daily chapters were fun to do, not feasible with my current work schedule. It may move to 2-4 days between releases now. stay tuned and Thank you for reading <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

Jayce had woken up first, light filtering in through the sheer curtains and thinly slatted blinds. It is bright, almost white in the darkness of the room. The day had to be farther along than it usually was when he awoke, but they had no meetings today. No need to be up early. No real reason to go to the lab right away. So he watches the beams tinged yellow dancing on the blankets covering him and Viktor. He watches as the lines move with each slow breath from his partner. Savoring this moment.

A different tiredness fills him this morning. Muscles not aching by any means but loose from exertion. Viktor’s neck and shoulders littered in lovebites. All that could be hidden by their regulated attire, a kindness that Viktor did not listen to when marking Jayce. Harsh nips from the night before were caught on Jayce’s ears and jaw, welts he was sure would be visible on his throat too. In all their time together Jayce didn’t take Viktor to be so… passionate in his bedroom endeavors. After months of dancing around each other, carefully crossing and redefining boundaries, of pushing and pushing and pushing it took your arrival and your questions to get them here. Jayce could kiss you for that fact alone had he and Viktor not already planned on doing that and much more. 

Jayce lets his hand trace Viktor’s face, fingers trailing lightly over the features you called royal. That nose, his lips, Viktor’s jaw, his thick brows. As his finger tips graze each part Jayce recalls every kiss he’s placed there. Thinks about what he loves most about Viktor. Intelligence, his resolve, his snark. His hands, his voice. Thinks about those golden amber eyes that follow his every movement, how Viktor only shows him parts that no one else gets to see. A possessive gnawing at the back of his neck that makes Jayce want to wake Viktor up now and continue their night. But he doesn’t, thoughts straying to you. 

Because Viktor also shares some of those parts with you. It was what got them here in the first place. Maybe one day they would have finally acted on their not-so-hidden desires. Him and Viktor were drawn to each other like magnets, it would have happened eventually. Yet your arrival was a catalyst. Being observed meant being aware of their observable behaviors. Made them think through their actions more, at least for Jayce it did. And it made him consider things that he had let the rush of Hextech sweep away. The lingering hands and teasing words that he and Viktor had shared, nights of arguing and soothing that became heated in many ways without crossing the lines they refused to define. And that first day in your studio, where he had seen Viktor look at you the way that he himself knew he had looked at Viktor. Soft smile, adoring eyes, relaxed shoulders. A look he rarely caught Viktor giving him because Viktor kept his walls high. Always on alert. 

Realizing that through Viktor’s affection for you that Jayce also had grown to want you by his side. He had admired your drive to work, your creativity, and your passion. All things that he knew that three of you had in common. Jayce knew for certain that after your first week there he wanted to be friends with you at the very least. Proximity was one hell of a drug for fostering any kind of relationship. Something he had to rely on with every aspect of his life. Making a life for himself, for his mother, after his father’s death meant that there was no time for frivolous friendships. Even if he craved them. Even if he desperately wanted to be close to people. But there was the forge, the family business, there was the Academy, there was always something that required his time and his focus. Here in Piltover where he had become entrenched in its way of life it always confused him how people acted. It was difficult to navigate the Academy where people kept their distance to protect their work, where one became set against the world until they needed something. 

Then there was Viktor. There was Mel. There was you. All three of you he had wanted something with. Friendship certainly, but there was also a need for this deeper connection. To know. To really know a person. Jayce’s hand stills, at some point he had moved to those tousled locks and he pulled it away to rub his own face. A soft grumble bubbles up from Viktor at the loss. 

“Jayce?” Oh how his heart swells. How it beats faster at that tired voice. 

“I’m here V.” He can hear the grogginess tinging his own words. A hum is the only acknowledgement he gets from Viktor before he feels that lithe body pull away. Cool air billowing in where the covers are lifted, poofing up the blue blanket. Viktor’s movements are slow and uncalculated, hair flattened on one side and a fluffy mess on the other. That bed head that Jayce could never grow tired of. His back unveiled and Jayce can’t help but sit forward too. Wrapping his arms around Viktor’s waist, pressing his chest to his back, wanting the morning moment to last just a little longer. Another hum, one that Jayce can feel the vibrations of when Viktor leans his head back into the crook of Jayce’s shoulder. Nosing into Jayce’s neck before pulling away. 

“What time is it?” Viktor’s question hangs in the air briefly as he starts to get up. And with that Jayce had to concede to the passage of time, had to let Viktor go because it is definitely later than he would be happy with. But the promise of tonight, of tomorrow, of more time together wherever they go soothes the small hurt. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You’d been at the lab for a couple hours. Usually one of them would have been here by now. “A late night,” you think to yourself while painting, “the coffee is definitely cold now.” As were the pastries and breakfast meats you had brought. It wasn’t the first time they had taken their time getting to the lab. But you had grown used to the unofficial schedule that the three of you had stuck to. Although, it did mean that you wouldn’t have to deal with all those feelings they had stirred up yesterday. Seeing them right away might’ve honestly set you farther behind. Who needs to deal with intimacy issues and guilt when you can throw yourself into your work? Work that was of their lab. In their lab. With them. In the work. 

You huff. Work that needs to be done. Your own personal issues aside, there was a job to do. You can look past your feelings for them to do this. Their relationship with each other, with you, won’t make doing this any easier or harder. You just needed to be objective, observational. So what if you noticed the glittering adoration in their eyes or the way their shoulders relaxed around each other. All you had to do was paint that. No need to get involved past the nice and easy friendship you had fostered together. The tell-tale signs of the door opening pulls you from the canvas before you. You hate it, the way that you can feel yourself turn before thinking. The way your chest tightens. Excited to see them. Because you’d been waiting. 

The door scrapes along the floor and when it pushes open you’re greeted with a familiar face. But not faces. Councilor Medarda is who comes into the lab. You try to bite back the immediate disappointment. And the shame that follows. “Waiting for them like a dog, ready to wag your tail.”

“Mel, it’s good to see you! Viktor and Jayce aren’t in yet.” 

“As I can see. Left you on your lonesome today?” Her graceful steps keep an even time on the floor. Cla-clacking against the tiles as she walks towards you. “Oh if she only knew.” 

“Easier for me to work without them anyway,” You don’t even mean to say it. The frustration of your morning making its way out in words that weren’t meant for the audience that received them. She quirks a brow as she sits, a smile lifting up one side of her full lips. You continue to try and save face, “because it’s hard for me to focus. I mean, it’s hard to paint someone one when they’re right there. I. I don’t want them to not like it?” Mel settles by your station before she speaks, taking in your obvious attempts to hide your panic.

“Ofcourse,” is all she gives you. And then a slight chuckle when your shoulders slump in defeat. You were behaving like a love-sick student, a child, not a grown adult meant to work for a living. “They are fond of you. It’s been quite the interesting thing to watch develop.” This time it’s you who looks to her with a question on your face. “Surely you are aware.”

“Aware of what?” You don’t even have time to speak the words before the door pushes open a second time. Mel and you both turn to see Jayce and Viktor walk into the room. Viktor was moving slowly, but still with a pep in his step. And Jayce smiles at the both of you when he trails behind. His collar barely popped in a poor attempt at hiding… hickeys? Lovebites. You give them both a wave hello before facing your painting. “I am aware.” 

Mel hums in response, mirth still present when she takes in the men. “Good morning you two.” 

A polite “Councilor” from Viktor, and returned “Good morning” from Jayce. 

“I was just checking with y/n about schedules. There’s an upcoming gala that is supposed to be for young inventors such as yourself. Could be good if you made an appearance.” 

“Wha-?” You didn’t know about their schedules for things like that, much less that there was a gala. It takes a second for you to catch on that she’s providing a conversation. “What day is it again?” It earns you a soft tap from her well-manicured hand. The jewelry she always wears clinking softly with the movement. She lets her hand rest on your shoulder. 

“A month or so from today, I’m sure you boys can expect an invitation soon. Wanted to give you ample time to set up something to show.” Mel stands, her hand bracing against you. A gentle squeeze as she leaves to move across the lab. 

“Ample time?” Viktor turns to face her, annoyance already coiling in that throat. Jayce is pressing a hand against Viktor’s back before he speaks. Eyes following where she walked to the door. 

“What exactly should we be showing? The travel prototype is nowhere near public-eye ready yet.” He does a better job at keeping his voice kind and even. Although his posture is rigid.

“You’ve done more with less time before. Afraid of a challenge?” Her words are directed to them, but her gaze is on you. Eyes twinkling when she steps into the hall. 

“A month is barely enough time for a proto-type. Why do they always think that our work appears in the blink of an eye?” Viktor’s disgruntled huffing and Jayce’s soothing words fill the lab while you think. Too many smart and cunning pretty people around. Too many confusing thoughts and feelings to keep track of. Frustration starts bubbling in your gut as you hear the two men talking. Mutterings of alloys and delivery times, materials and work hours. In one ear and out the other, breathing while you try to cool yourself. There was work to be done. Pastries to share. 

“You’ll need brain power to get through whatever this weird deadline is.” You gesture to the food and drinks on the table nearby, regretting how closely you had set it up to your station. Jayce wanders over, looking at the meager selection. His charming grin thrown your way as thanks. Viktor himself grabs his coffee first, patting your chair as he walks by. 

“You take such good care of us broučku.” 

It was going to be a long day.

╚═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╝

------------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙-Part 21-.-Part 23.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .----------------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Yooo. Amazing Gambit writing. 💕 Sooooo I was thinking. I’m feral for the new movie Gambit, especially that VOICE, and can’t stop thinking on this.

Soft non-mutant reader who doesn’t deal with violence and blood very well, like sick or panicky because they were so protected growing up, while Remy is trying to protect them during a fight (could be anywhere). Like, bad time bad place thing. But the reader wants to help, by throwing a shoe when they were about to hurt Remy. Chaos ensures when they turn toward the reader.

So as I was writing this, I was thinking "EXCUSE ME THIS IS A GREAT STORY CONCEPT,". Also, Am I able to use this prompt to possibly, maybe add to my 'I need to write this into a multi chap story' Gambit x reader file? But I hope you enjoy :)

The air crackled with tension as the fight erupted around you. It was supposed to be a simple errand, just a quick stop in a small town that had seemed peaceful enough to get a few hours sleep in. But then, as if fate had a cruel sense of humor, things went south, and it went south fast. The sudden ambush, the flash of weapons, and Remy pushing you behind him—everything happened too quickly to process.

You had never been good with violence. The sight of blood made your stomach churn, and the sound of gunfire was enough to send your heart racing in sheer panic. But Remy was so much more different that you, complete polar opposites. He moved through the chaos with a deadly grace, cards charged and ready, every motion calculated and precise. It was like watching a storm unfold, fierce and unstoppable.

You tried to stay out of the way, pressed against a wall, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. But then you saw it—one of the attackers sneaking up behind Remy, a blade glinting in the dim light. You didn’t think, didn’t hesitate, just acted on pure instinct.

You looked around, hands still pressed against the red brick wall, trying to find something, anything, that would help. You let out a small huff, reaching down and grabbing the closest thing within reach—your dark coloured shoe—and flung it with all your might. It sailed through the air, smacking into the man’s head with a dull thud. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him stumble, giving Remy just enough time to turn and disarm him with a swift, brutal strike.

But then the man's eyes snapped towards you, fury burning in them as he realized where the attack had come from. You froze, heart hammering in your chest, as he took a menacing step toward you. "Shit," You whispered to yourself.

Remy, still engaged with another opponent, glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of the man advancing on you. "What exactly did you think that would achieve?!" he shouted over the noise, his Cajun accent thick with frustration.

You blinked, caught between terror and a strange sort of defiance. "I don't really think about things before doing them, you know?" you shot back, voice trembling but determined. "It's how I ended up here with you to begin with, remember?"

The irony of your words wasn’t lost on you. You’d never been the type to seek out trouble, to dive headfirst into danger. In fact you, thrived staying away from it. Spending most days either inside or at your job. But meeting Remy had changed everything. He was chaos wrapped in charm, a magnet for the kind of trouble you had always been shielded from. And yet, somehow, you’d found yourself dragged into his world, into the madness that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

It had all started so innocently. You’d met him by chance, a twist of fate that had brought the two of you together. He was on the run, tangled up in something that you didn’t fully understand but couldn’t walk away from. Before you knew it, you were caught up in his orbit, swept along by his easy smile and the thrill of something you’d never felt before—excitement, danger, a sense of purpose.

And now, here you were, in the middle of a fight you had no business being in, your shoe—of all things—your only weapon. The absurdity of it might have made you laugh if you weren’t so scared.

The man lunged toward you, but before he could reach you, Remy was there, faster than you could have imagined. He moved like lightning, his bo staff connecting with the man’s side in a sickening crunch that made you wince. The man crumpled to the ground, and Remy turned to you, his eyes flashing with a mix of relief and exasperation.

"When I said stay behind me, ," he stated, his tone showing his annoyance at you, "It wasn't an optional request chère'".

You nodded, swallowing hard as you clung to the remnants of your composure. This wasn’t your world—this world of violence and bloodshed—but it was his, and as long as you were with him, you’d have to find a way to survive it.

Remy’s order to stay behind him was clear, but the chaos around you made it hard to follow. Every sound seemed amplified—the clash of metal, the shouts of your enemies, the pounding of your own heart in your ears. You stumbled back, trying to keep your distance, but the room felt like it was closing in on you, suffocating you with every breath.

Remy was a blur of motion, a dangerous dance of power and precision. You marveled at how he seemed to anticipate every move, every attack, as if the world around him was moving in slow motion. But despite his skill, you could see the strain in his eyes, the worry that flickered every time he glanced back at you.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You knew that much. But there wasn’t time to think about the ‘what ifs’ or the ‘should haves.’ Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting out of this alive.

Another assailant broke away from the fight, making a beeline for you. You instinctively took a step back, your hands trembling as you searched for something—anything—you could use to defend yourself. But there was nothing. No more shoes to throw, no weapons within reach. Just you and the growing dread in your chest.

Before you could react, the man was on you, his hand grabbing your arm with a painful grip. You let out a small cry, the fear surging up, threatening to overwhelm you. His grip tightened, and you could see the cold, calculating look in his eyes—a predator sizing up his prey.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Remy was there, moving like a shadow. He wrenched the man away from you, his eyes blazing with a fury you had never seen before. "I said stay behind me!" he snapped, his accent thick and his voice laced with an edge of desperation.

You didn’t have time to respond before Remy shoved you back, his attention already turning to the next threat. The man who had grabbed you was on the ground, groaning in pain, but Remy didn’t linger. He was already moving, his staff whirling as he took down the next attacker with a brutal efficiency.

You pressed yourself against the wall, your heart still racing, your body trembling with the adrenaline coursing through you. This was too much. The sights, the sounds, the raw violence of it all—it was overwhelming, like you were drowning in a sea of chaos with no way to escape.

But then you saw it—a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye. One of the attackers, a woman with a cruel sneer and a gun raised, aimed directly at Remy. Your breath caught in your throat, your blood running cold as you realized what was about to happen.

There was no time to think, no time to hesitate. Without a weapon, without a plan, you did the only thing you could think of. You threw yourself at her, arms flailing, a wild, desperate attempt to stop her before she could pull the trigger.

The impact surprised her, but it surprised you even more. The two of you tumbled to the ground, her gun skidding across the floor. She cursed, scrambling to get up, but you were already on her, holding her down with a strength you didn’t know you had.

For a moment, everything was a blur. You didn’t think, didn’t feel—just acted, driven by pure instinct and the overwhelming need to protect Remy. But you weren’t a fighter, and it didn’t take long for her to get the upper hand. She rolled you off her, slamming you against the floor with a force that knocked the breath out of you.

Pain radiated through your body, sharp and overwhelming, but you didn’t let go. You couldn’t. You had to hold on, had to keep fighting, because if you didn’t, if you let her win, she would kill Remy. And that thought was more terrifying than anything else.

But you were no match for her. She was stronger, more experienced, and it wasn’t long before she overpowered you. Her hand closed around your throat, squeezing, cutting off your air. You struggled, panic rising as your vision started to blur, dark spots dancing at the edges.

And then, just when you thought it was over, the pressure was gone. You sucked in a desperate breath, gasping for air, as you saw Remy standing over you, the woman unconscious at his feet. He knelt beside you, his face a mask of concern and something else—something raw and unspoken.

“Chère,” he whispered, his voice tight as he reached out to help you up. “You alright?”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if it was true. Your body hurt, your mind was spinning, and you felt like you might be sick. But you were alive, and so was he. That was all that mattered.

He pulled you to your feet, steadying you as you wobbled, your legs weak beneath you. “I told you t’stay back,” he muttered, though there was no anger in his voice now, only worry.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice hoarse and trembling. “I just… I had to do something. I couldn’t just stand there and watch.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, you saw the walls he usually kept up start to crumble. “I know,” he said quietly, his hand still on your arm, grounding you. “But you gotta trust me t’protect you, alright? This ain’t your fight.”

You nodded again, tears stinging your eyes as the reality of the situation finally started to sink in. You weren’t made for this—for the violence, the blood, the fear. You were out of your depth, dragged into a world you didn’t understand and couldn’t handle. But you couldn’t leave him, either. Not when he needed you.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, feeling the weight of your own inadequacy pressing down on you. “I’m not… I’m not like you, Remy. I can’t do this.”

He shook his head, pulling you into a tight embrace, holding you close against him. “You don’t gotta be like me, chère,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “You just gotta be you. And that’s enough.”

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as the tears finally started to fall. The fight was over, the danger passed, but the fear and the adrenaline still pulsed through you, leaving you shaky and exhausted.

Remy held you, his presence warm and comforting, a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. For a long moment, neither of you moved, just stayed there, holding on to each other in the aftermath of the chaos.

Finally, he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his hands gently cupping your face. “We’re gonna get outta here, alright?” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “An’ I’m gonna make sure you’re safe. Always.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you wiped at your eyes, trying to pull yourself together. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but stronger than before. “Okay.”

He smiled, a small, reassuring smile that made your heart ache with a strange mix of relief and something else—something warm and tender that you didn’t quite know how to name.

“Good,” he said simply, “Let’s get moving.”

You followed him, your hand in his, allowing him to pull you into the street, feeling the weight of everything that had just happened. The fight, the fear, the realization that you were in over your head—it all hung heavy in the air. But there was also something else, something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could handle this after all.