#this is long please don't feel like you gotta read it

[aro-absol]

[ID: A digital comic with a simple drawing style. It consists of long text that is accompanied by small drawings, matching what is said in the text. The text reads as follows: "I've always been a big reader. I was treating earlier and faster than most of my peers my whole childhood. [Three books: one is titled "Magic treehouse" and has the caption "kindergarten", one is titled "Harry Potter" and has the caption "first grade" and the last one is titled "Percy Jackson" and has the caption "third grade".] and my tastes have alwaystended towards the magical. fairytales, myths, and fantasy have been longtime favourites as far back as I can remember.

As I got older, my tastes didn't change all that much. They did expand, to being ok with things like horror, violence (and mild gore), death... As children's tastes tend to do. But I still loved fantasy stories just as much. When I hit eighth grade, however, they noticed a bit of a problem. I was getting a bit old for a lot of the middle-grade fiction books I liked. I thought: "Okay, sure! I've read adult-level books with no problem before, I'll just head for the fantasy section!" I asked a couple of friends for book recommendations, and culture reading except… [A drawing of many different scraps from books, all clearly from romantic and/or steamy scenes] ... All of it was just so stuffed with sex and romance. [A drawing of a person shaking their heads in disbelief and saying "ew" while reading the book, with an arrow pointing to them saying, "14 and very aro/ace"]

Needless to say, I did not want to read those books (and haven't to this day.) Thought bubble of the person just described continuing: okay, this is probably just my friend's stuff. I know they like these kinds of things. I'll just look for myself! [A drawing of a person standing in front of a big bookshelf that is labeled "young adult and teen fantasy". There are many different phrases pointing to the box on the shelf. The phrases read: "sex scene on the first page", "sex", "twilight", "romance "' subplot'", viscerally upsetting description of making out", "fade to black sex scene", "no sex but only technically", "sexy elves", essentially a romance really", "insane amounts of kissing".]... you gotta be kidding.

Over the years since then, I've tried to find fantasy stories that I can actually enjoy. [A drawing of a list titled "typically good". The bullet point read: D and D based (sex jokes but party focused), comics, fanfic, older media (pre-90s), MG fiction (last resort)] I've had some success at finding patterns that work for me, but a lot of these categories are very digital. (At least for me.) And because of that, all the time I once spent reading is now on my phone.

I don't really know where this is going, or what the solution is. Most people do like sex and romance, and reading about them. And this is just a thing for making a terrible comic day. I think it's pretty common for aro and/or ace people to feel left out, since so often these are treated as universal ideals. But to anyone feeling that way: I promise you are not alone. Also, allos: get better writing material, seriously. And better friends, since yours are apparently so terrible you can't write deeply meaningful relationships without kissing. (Half joking.) / End ID]

Note: this image description is not fully complete, as I left out some smaller drawings that I couldn't add into the text in a way that makes sense and weren't crucial for understanding. Also, I apologize if this description isn't clear to people who use screen readers but I do not know how to make it any better. If you have any suggestions, tell me please.

My (late) contribution for Make A Terrible Comic Day! I've been going to the library more often lately so this has been coming up a lot, cause I want something to read but have had trouble finding anything that I'm comfortable with.

If anyone has recommendations please please let me know because I am struggling.

[niceonejames7]

the sirius watermelon fic was SO CUTE I NEED A PART TWO OF THEM GETTING TOGETHER

watermelon pyjamas pt.2

sirius finally tells you how he feels. (the classic angry confession trope) part 1

words: 1.7k

genre: literally idiots™ to lovers, roommate!sirius, hurt/comfort(?), confession, lil angst, ends with fluff.

a/n: guys this is like my first ask. eeeek! thanks for requesting and reading<3

.....

“I’m an idiot”

“You're gonna have to elaborate."

“James, please."

Sirius wasn't sure if he would classify this as a bad day. Realising he's in love with you wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him, but hearing James gloat about how right he had been was.

He had managed to avoid you that evening, even the next day, internally panicking over what to do. But he was home in the evening, ignoring that stupid warm feeling in his chest when he saw your shoes in front of the door.

He entered the room, and sighed.

I'm fucked.

“Did you buy fruit themed pyjamas?" Sirius asked, his eyes moving over the cherry printed clothing. He was annoyed, not at you, mostly at himself. He couldn't find a single explanation why this affected him so much, but it did.

“I have watermelon, cherry, kiwi and peach.” You counted on your fingers.

“Wear the peach one tomorrow." Sirius grimaced at his too quick of a response, thankfully his face wasn't visible. He wasn't very proud of himself right now.

"I meant like- as a suggestion, that sounds cute, you know." He tries to explain himself, cringing on his own words.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, amused by his eagerness, “Do you want these? You seem to like them a lot." You asked cheekily.

Yeah, sure. That's exactly why I want you to wear these, Sirius though internally. His thoughts had involved you in his bed with the pants on, maybe off, but he kept that shamefully to himself.

The next couple of days felt torturous. Sirius felt like he had to physically restrain himself from reaching for you. Anytime you touch his shoulder, lean against him, huddle together on the couch, he overthought everything.

Every touch left him breathless, every look made it hard to breath. I need help.

.

You were distraught. For some reason, for the last few days, Sirius was acting weird. He had started pulling away from you, as if watching you from a distance. No ruffling your hair, no forehead kisses, no comfortable touches. It's not as if he owed you any affection, but he had stopped.

He knew.

He knew you had feelings for him. Even if he doesn't, which you desperately hope is the truth, he has a problem. You didn't know what to do. Everytime you thought to ask him something, he'd make up an excuse and leave. He definitely didn't want to talk to you.

Lily had suggested exactly as you predicted, the usual, you should talk to him, maybe he was just busy. And other times, she had been right, but not this time. All of this had led you to the inevitable decision, something you should have done long ago. Maybe if you had, this wouldn't have happened.

……

"I'm gonna move out, Lils.” You say into the phone,"What? Why?” Lily exclaimed, rather dramatically.

You sigh,"I can't live like this. He doesn't owe me anything. I shouldn't be expecting… things from him.”

There's a slight pause before you continue,"And I can't move on if I live with him. It's too painful, and too hard."

“Here's the real reason."

Lily felt like bashing her head against a wall. How can two people be so stupid at the same time? You two were perfect for each other, both too oblivious to see the obvious.

“Listen, I really think you should just tell him, even if you move out. He wouldn't stop being your friend, honey."

You hum as she says, but part of you knows you can't say it. You don't have the guts. You hear the familiar click of the door, Sirius is home.

“Lils, I've gotta go. I'll talk to you later." You hang up the phone, not listening to whatever she said at the end, too nervous to care.

Your hands are sweaty, and your hands are fidgeting constantly. Sirius comes in and can immediately sense your anxious energy,

“What happened, lovely?" He asks, his voice cooing as he moves over to you.

He's used to you busying yourself around the house, sometimes bobbing your head to music as you wash the dishes, or some other silly thing, he could go on.

“Sirius, we need to talk." You say quickly, your words too rushed, dreading this conversation.

Sirius' heart feels like it's going to lurch out.

Oh no.

He thinks that you know, somehow. That he had… he'd stopped saying it at a point. The impossibility of it all was a painful reminder. Now you're going to confront him. He's fucked.

“Okay…” He says, his voice too quiet now.

You rub your hands to pep yourself up, encouraging yourself to not lose track,

“I'm gonna move out."

The silence that takes over is one more overwhelming than any noise. Sirius is sure now, you definitely know. A dangerous dread spreads over his body, like a disease covering itself around him.

“It's not because of you, it's because of me." Sirius has the urge to scoff at the cliched statement, but his body feels too stiff, his eyes stuck on you.

But Sirius needed closure. So, whatever your feelings were, Sirius needed to hear why you're leaving.

“Why?" His voice is void of emotion. It breaks your heart.

A pitiful chuckle escaped you, “Sirius, you've made it clear you don't want me here."

Don't confront him. This wasn't the plan.

It wasn't. It wasn't even the reason you were moving out. But he was still your friend, he had still hurt your feelings. You were still mad at him, even though you had no right to be.

“What the hell do you mean?" Sirius asks, incredulous. How could he ever not want you here?

“We haven't talked properly in days. You answer me in singular words-"

Sirius cuts you off, feeling oddly defensive, even if what you were saying wasn't untrue,

“I've been busy-"

“Oh you've been busy before, Sirius. You never did this," You wave him off, but meeting his eyes, you say, “It's alright, I got the message, if you don't want me here-" Your voice rises despite your efforts as the conversation gets more heated,

"So what then? You're just gonna move out? Am I that terrible?” Sirius asks, sarcastically. Typical, you think. You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration,

"Sirius, I told you, this isn't about you,”

Right now, he isn't keen on listening to your reasoning. In his mind, it's all his fault. It's his fault that you have to leave. He's scrambling for explanations,

"Look, I'm sorry that I'm in love with you, alright? I couldn't help myself. Hell,” He laughs, pity and amusement lacing his words, “I didn't even know until a few weeks ago.”

Sirius felt like his world was falling apart. His heart has dared to love someone, and it backfired. He doesn't regret that he loves you, he couldn't. He had no control over that, ever. He was always going to be in love with you.

He only regrets that you found out, somehow. But he supposed that was also inevitable, you weren't daft.

“The point is,” His pleading eyes look at you, “It’s my problem to deal with, not yours.” His eyes are watching your face, you don't know what he might find, “Please, don't leave.”

A few moments pass, and it's as if the world is coming back to you. And one sentence rings in your head, distinct from any other sentence he's said.

I'm sorry that I'm in love with you.

“You what??” You ask, your voice full of incredulity. It feels like someone had hit you with a hammer, or pushed you off a cliff.

“I didn't want to be the guy who's your friend and then tells you he's in love with you, you know? I'm sorry that I love you, but you don't have to leave. If it matters, I will. You should stay here.” Sirius stammers out, his voice laced with pain and nervousness.

Your hands are wrapped under his, his hands clutching yours like they could stop you. They probably did stop you.

"You're in love with me?” You ask, your heart in your mouth, as if one word would be enough to tip you over.

“Please don't make me say it again." Sirius pleads, his eyes slightly watery.

Your eyes flick back and forth to both of his, searching for any kind of hesitance on his face, but it's plain. He's said those words like they were casual, as if they didn't just break your brain. There's nothing to say, or there are no words coming to your brain which are enough to convey your emotions.

A smile spreads across your lips and you bite your lips to conceal it undoing your hands from his to cradle his face,

“You’re in love with me.”

Sirius' pleading frown transforms to a confused one, and he nods, even if you hadn't asked it as a question this time.

You laugh, a watery laugh before you meet your lips to his, smiling too hard to kiss him properly.

Sirius feels like his body is on autopilot, his hands immediately cradling the back of your neck, his other one holding your wrist, his lips immediately responding to yours, as if it was all too natural.

In all his ‘foreseen’ outcomes, this hadn't been a possibility.

He smiles too, confusion still evident at the back of his mind, but he could only focus on the feeling of your lips on his, your hands holding his face.

His head tilts as he tries to get a better angle, desperate to know your tells and signs, his hand wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

You smile again, breaking the kiss but his lips chase you which makes you laugh more, and he hides his face in your shoulder, laughing along with you.

“You're in love with me," You say it quietly, as if you're confirming it to yourself, but he's too close by not to listen.

“And here I was, moving out because I wanted to get over you."

His head whips up, his face dumbstruck,

“What?"

“Mhmm." You bite your lips, and Sirius has half a mind to kiss you again.

“You're also in…." He trails off, his expression confused but you know exactly what he's asking,

“Sirius, I just kissed you."

“Yeah, but what if you just took pity-" You shut him up again, and he melts, exactly as you intended, moulding his body to yours, trying to get as close as he can. If this was your way to shut him up, he could get used to it.

"Wait, so you're not moving out right? Because-" And his words are cut off again, the same way from before.

He smiles against your lips, again, ecstatic. Giddy, even. Sirius could get used to this. Sirius could get used to kissing you as he arrives home.

All this because of fucking watermelon pyjamas.

[scary-monsters]

I genuinely don't know how much longer I can do this

I try to keep mental health shit off this blog as much as possible bc that's not what it's for, it's supposed to be a place to share the things I make and to support others that love the same characters as I do. But also I need to be human sometimes

I haven't been getting enough sleep, my body won't let me rest more than 6 hours a night because I'm constantly riddled with anxiety and the pressure to work work work, be productive, do things or else you're useless.

I don't eat nearly enough because I can't afford to buy groceries most weeks and rarely have time to cook on the days I work. Most of the time I eat one meal a day and that's only on my 30min break at work. My body doesn't even like to take anything more than that.

I haven't bought new clothes in at least 2 years, because I can't afford to and why would I when I never go anywhere except work? If I have a day off I don't have the energy to try and look nice, I throw on old jeans and a t-shirt. And it sucks because clothing has always been a passion of mine and I used to take so much pride in the way I present myself. I miss that part of me.

I'm miserable all the time, if I'm at work I'm only thinking about suicide. I cry all the time. Yes I go to therapy, yes I have a psychiatrist, yes I take medication for my disorder. But it feels like nothing helps anymore.

My therapist asked me two days ago what the barriers to my goals and happiness are and I didn't even hesitate when I answered "work". My job is draining me to a point that is scary for me, I feel trapped in it because no matter how many applications I do, I always get 'no's. The jobs I do have a good shot at pay significantly less than what I currently make, so I can't risk losing that pay. I live by myself, I pay for everything by myself. I don't have anyone else to lean on.

We recently had a loss in the family, and while I handled it pretty well it also brought up all the other loss I've experienced in my life, and there's been a lot. To a point where if my mom calls and says "I need to talk to you", I immediately assume someone else has passed. So all I can think about lately is all those people and all the missed opportunities I had with them.

I'm tired and I don't know what to do, I feel lost and I can't help looking at suicide as my only option to get out of how shitty everything feels all the time. I'm only happy when I'm making art or writing or talking to friends, but when I don't have the energy to do those things?? What then? I sit here and stare at a screen and cry and wish I could be anyone other than myself. I can't measure up, and I'm kinda tired of trying.

I had to call in today because I can't do it, I feel myself falling apart at the seams, I've been snapping at coworkers and having attitude with customers, that's not me, but I feel like I'm losing myself. But because I called in I've now lost a quarter of my paycheck for this week. Every single day I have to pick whether I'd prefer experiencing suicidal ideation for 10.5 hours at work or sitting at home and feeling lost/lonely and crying instead.

I've been pretty good at hiding it and masking this year but idk, I don't have the energy to do it anymore. I'm lost, y'all, I have no direction and I don't know when/if things are gonna get better for me

(also I don't need anyone telling me that I could use vacation money to fix some of these issues; vacations are how I escape, and I need to do that. Plus I always save up PTO/money specifically for them.)

[imissthefire]

well gods damn it all, I'm in part 4 finally and haven't said a word since I started, but hrjskajdks I have so many thots and feelings. under the cut because it's meaningless rambling but if u feel like reading then that's chill

First one being WHERE IS MY BABYGIRL (I know I get him soon but I'm still annoyed that I've had to wait so long and I miss him) second, why the FUCK is pelleas. Like. Just why. Why he? For the first 2/3rds of his presence, I wanted to drop kick his ass to hatari but eventually he went from being a fucking loser (derogatory) to a fucking loser (affectionate) and now... yeah. it's my first playthroygh, I could not save him and was unfortunately very upset by his dumbass sacrificing himself without reading the fine print. And then mommy almedha finding out her dumbass precious son died for naught but also it's fine, he was clinically stupid so it wasn't an unforeseen scenærio. Can't believe iz*ka found The Most Pathetic Little Guy and said "yeah, yeah, he's gonna be the next king" like I know he wanted someone easy to gaslight and manipulate and all that jazz but holy mother of FUCK could he not have found somebody with like even an ounce of confidence or self-preservation 😭 it did work out tho for almedha tho seeing as her aggressive need to mother hen the hell out of a child paired very well with how helpless and less-than-with-it pelly was. If only her son was a genius mage with a hunk of a bf and not a pathetic limp noodle mage with a lowkey cute crush on miccy, but alas, this is my first playthrough therefore those dots will remain unconnected ✊🏼😔 but got damg. Also, insanely silly of kurthy to be all :( I love my sister and dead brother who sacrificed everything for our nephew who is now also dead :((( when he's actually very much alive and well, like, two tents over. Crazy stuff, man, truly.

And damg don't even get me started on how fucking stressful drafting the armies was because I spent over an hour on it and I just got to the 2nd chapper with the elincibarn army and I realise now that I made a Big Mistake because they're so underpowered 😭 I made so many mistakes drafting that but at least I was locked with tibs AND ranran, both of whom have been pretty great so I have hope that between them, elincia and the LBGs (I assume b*stian will join us at some point (I need to complete the LGB(E) gang, it's imperative to our success)) things will be manageable.

Meanwhile, I put too much thought into the silver army or whatever miccy's is called and it was Still Absolute Ass! Slaysala carried along with skrimscram and mordy (and a shit tonne of olivi grass) the majority of the battle. that feathery slut only got hit, like, maybe 5 times? Powerful birdy, fucked up morally but also fucks severely on the battlefield so I'll forgive him and trust him bc he can't really betray us given how almost everyone else has been dwayned (rock) so they can't really buy his treachery. I also think he'd have perchance just enough self-preservation and sense to NOT side with the same ppl trying to kill everyone, thus nullifying the possibility of saving everybody, which includes Kilvans, which is actually quite understandable. It gives a bit of a sov rudolf vibe in that rudy knew that with his little green-haired secret prince with a brand that complicates his life without him realising it for like 17 years who was whisked away at birth/a very young age to live like a peasant voiced (in english) by kyle mccarley (gatekeeper must have one hell of a backstory) that along with his antithesis (anthieseses if you will) would unite zofia and rigel but in order to trigger that unity, he had to lean hard into being a bit fucked up and evil etc etc this isn't what that's about tho, I just am trying to justify why I think naenaesala isn't a completely iredeemable piece of garbage idk idk bottom line, rudolf had to suck but it was for the best of his people and naesala is a dick but does it with his people in mind and I think that's understandable. Doesn't justify or excuse his actions, but it sure gives important perspective to them. But anyway, everyone else in the silver army is lowkey dogshit ahaha I'm Fighting For My Life with these units, man. Snaki has been decent, (her lesbian mums do be pulling through as well) but she's also for some reason got the absolute worst luck with getting hit when enemy hit rate is <20% and either dying or coming damn near close. I know mages are squishy and aren't supposed to get hit but bro, she got hit by a 3% and fucking died when I was nearly through the map 😭

On the flipside, fortunately the gmercs and friends slay absolute penis, ike and soren alone can take like a dozen men at once (in a fight) and come out pretty much unscathed. sor's real good at dodging and having flare AND adept activate almost every second hit, so homeboy's keeping himself going easy peasy. And ike's just out here throwing his giant sword at bitches, also healing, but hella dealing (damage) ugh, power couple and neither get range locked so they can kill every last one of them which is quite nice. I'll send them into the fray and they have their cute little support *klboomph* bonus so they got that avo and other stuff idk I didn't look at it that hard.

I will say tho that the combining of the inventories was an absolute blessing holy shit man, I was fighting for my life between having next to no funds in any of the armies and running out of shit but having extra of what I need for one team on another and vice versa. truly a blessing that I can just hand stuff back and forth, only issue is i can't snag anything if it's with someone in another of the armies but I just keep units I'm not using on a map unarmed and empty-handed otherwise. Works out pretty well if I'm being perfectly candid, friend. Anyway, I'm gonna leave my absurdly long update at that otherwise this would be even longer and worse. Since I know babygirl shows up in ch3 with miccy and the gang, I apologise in advance for the impending thristposting. I'm holding myself back from being horny on main over several ppl but stefan, man, he just *chef's kiss* makes my brain go buckwild.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

ANIMAL INSTINCT

PAIRING: logan howlett x vampire mutant!female reader

RATING: explicit | WORD COUNT: 2.3k

SUMMARY:

after helping you out by letting you feed from him, logan asks you to return the favor.

part two of bloodthirsty

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

thank you for all the love on bloodthirsty! here’s a nice and smutty second part. big thank you to @guiltyasdave for reading this over for me 💕

TAGS/WARNINGS:

explicit sexual content (18+ mdni), x-men (2000) logan howlett, able bodied reader, vampire mutant!reader, no use of y/n, single POV - reader, primal play (chase/capture), gratuitous use of growling/roaring, light fighting, mentions of blood, biting, rough sex, semi-public sex (in the woods), oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, creampie, dirty talk, blade play (the claws come out).

Logan finds you in an empty hallway one afternoon, about two weeks after your encounter in the kitchen. You made the mistake of making eye contact, leaving you unable to turn and pretend you didn't see him like you've been doing since that night. 

"You avoiding me or something?" he says, hint of a smile on his lips. 

"No," you reply quickly. "What makes you think that?"

"Haven't seen you around much lately."

"Just busy."

"Right." He looks away for a moment, hands on his hips. "Look, I got a proposition for you."

"I don't--"

"I got this issue--," he continues, ignoring your response "--where it gets to be too much, you know? And I helped you out so--"

"What are you talking about?" you interrupt.

His voice drops a bit lower. "We're predators, right? And I don't know about you but sometimes my prey drive can be...too much, if you catch my drift."

"Okay..."

"And I got two words for you - quid pro quo."

You blink at him. "Logan, that's three words."

"I thought pro quo was one word."

"Why would you think that?"

"We're getting off topic," he says, waving his hands. “Think you can help a guy out?"

"Help you...how, exactly?"

You agree to meet Logan at the edge of the dense forest that surrounds the X Mansion at nightfall and as you walk through the grounds blanketed in darkness, your senses begin to feel more alive. Anticipation courses through you and the further you venture from the mansion, the darker the night becomes.

Logan is already there when you arrive, tension rolling off of him in waves. He gives you a tight smile.

"Took you long enough," he says. You roll your eyes.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" You gesture to the forest. "So, what now?"

"You run," Logan replies. "I hunt."

The deep timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. What he's asking for goes against your nature but some deep part of you is eager to please. 

You take off through the trees, running as fast as your legs will carry you across the soft forest floor. With your enhanced speed, it's not long before you're miles from the manicured mansion grounds, surrounded by gnarled roots and a thick canopy of leaves that blocks nearly all light from the moon.

You slow to a stop, catching your breath. The snap of a branch is the only warning you get before Logan's heavy weight barrels into you, sending you both tumbling to the ground with him coming out on top, smiling down at you, a wild glint to his eyes.

"Gotta do better than that, bub," he says. He stands up, holding a hand out to help you to your feet. "I'll give you a head start this time."

"I don't need a head start," you grumble. "I'm faster than you."

He laughs. "We'll see about that."

You start running, his laughter ringing in your ears. Your path is less direct this time, weaving through the trees and doubling back to leave your scent in more places and crossing a small creek with the hopes that the running water helps to cover your tracks. You grow comfortable enough in your lead that you begin to slow down, keeping yourself attuned to the sounds of the forest and any changes that might indicate Logan has found you.

The trees break into a vast clearing, tall grass swaying in the breeze. Moonlight trickles past the branches, stripes of faint light illuminating the floor. You take a moment to appreciate the tranquility of it, but the calm is short lived when you catch movement at the corner of your eye.

Logan steps through the trees. He's removed his shirt, thick muscle glimmering with sweat, his chest heaving with labored breath. Your mouth goes dry at the sight and for a moment you really do understand what it's like to be prey, faced with something so deadly it's almost hypnotizing, impossible to look away even when you’re in danger. He stalks closer and you feel frozen in place, unable to move a muscle.

"Found you," he growls. 

Your survival instinct kicks into gear and you attempt to run away, sprinting across the glade with renewed vigor. If you can make it back into the forest you know you could shake him loose again, but staying in the clearing makes you a clear target. 

Logan roars, the sound loud enough to shake the branches of nearby trees. You risk a glance over your shoulder and are met with the sight of the man on all fours, running towards you with single minded determination. He rapidly closes the distance with impressive speed, wrapping his arms around you and taking you down to the ground for the second time that night.

You grapple with him, landing a kick to his chest that gives you the chance to crawl out from beneath him. He reaches a hand out for your ankle and drags you back toward him, using his weight to hold you in place. You wiggle an arm free and strike at his face, though he dodges and your fingernails scrape against his neck, leaving red gashes in their wake that heal in the blink of an eye. He pins your arm to the ground above your head.

"No more runnin’,” he says, a command that shoots straight to your core. You know he’s not talking about just tonight, but rather how you’ve been avoiding him. 

But how were you supposed to face him when the only thoughts you had of him since then were about how sweet he tasted, how good he felt, how much you wanted more, more, more that you couldn’t possibly ask him to give?

Your inner turmoil is lost when his lips slam against yours in a kiss that’s hot and hungry, stealing your breath with its ferociousness. His teeth sink into your bottom lip and you gasp at the sharp sting of pain that lights up your nerves. There’s nothing gentle about it, but you’re not gentle creatures and the beasts that pace and snarl beneath your ribcage have finally broken free.

Logan breaks the kiss to stare down at you with wild eyes. Blood, your blood, stains his lips and his tongue darts out to lick it away with a satisfied hum. He leans in close, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, mouth open against your skin with the threat of sharp teeth over your racing pulse.

“Can’t hide it,” he says. “Not when I can smell it on you, sweetheart.”

“Smell what?” 

“How much you want it.” He nips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, making you hiss. “How much you want me.”

Heavy hands find the hem of your shirt, shoving it up your chest until it’s bunched beneath your armpits. He pulls down your bra to expose your breasts and your nipples tighten at the sudden burst of cold air against your skin but his mouth is on you in an instant, warm tongue tracing the taut buds. Your back arches at the sensation and you dig your fingers into his thick hair, pulling at the strands. He hums with pleasure as he switches to your other breast, giving it the same maddening attention.

His palm slides down your belly, fingers dipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and finding your needy center, swirling through the mess you’ve already made in your underwear. You can feel the smug grin on Logan’s face before he even lifts his head to look at you.

“That’s what I thought.” He withdraws his hand, holding it up to his face. In the moonlight you catch a glimpse of the strands of slick stretching between his index and middle finger before he sticks them in his mouth with a groan, licking them clean. “Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.”

The metallic sound of his claws unsheathing reaches your ears and your pulse jumps as he drags the blunt side of a single blade up the inside of your thigh. The tip catches on the fabric covering your pussy and with one quick move of his wrist he slices through your pants. His claw disappears and he reaches down with both hands to tear the fabric further.

Logan settles on his belly with his head between your thighs, your legs propped up on his broad shoulders. He kisses your pussy over the soaked fabric of your underwear but

spares you any further teasing, grabbing your panties in a tight fist and pulling roughly until the elastic snaps against your skin and he holds the torn fabric in his fist. He tosses them aside and buries his face in your cunt, devouring you like a man on a mission. His tongue alternates circling your sensitive clit and dipping into your dripping entrance, expertly tracing every inch of you. You’re so lost to the pleasure that you don’t notice him getting to his knees until he’s lifting your hips, hands gripping your ass tightly to keep your lower body suspended in the air and his mouth sealed to your cunt.

“Fuck!” you cry out, muscles growing tense as your orgasm builds. It hits you like a tidal wave, coursing through your veins as you shout his name like a prayer. His hold remains tight as he works you through it until you grow boneless in the aftermath.

He lowers you slowly back to the ground and you fight to catch your breath while he quickly removes his belt and shoves his jeans down enough to free his cock. You watch him take himself in hand, a brief slide of his fist over his impressive length before he runs the glistening head through your sensitive folds, bumping your clit and making you shiver.

Logan’s gaze remains fixed to yours as he presses forward, breaching your tight entrance. Your body accepts him greedily, the slight sting and stretch barely a thought when all you can focus on is how full he makes you feel.

His lips find yours for a messy kiss while he begins to thrust, a slow drag of his cock from your body followed by a sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs. You cling to his shoulders, clawing at his skin. The scent of his blood invades your senses and your teeth begin to ache at the memory of his taste. 

Your teeth catch on his lip and he hisses but doesn’t pull away. Copper blooms across your taste buds and you can’t help the desperate moan that escapes into the kiss.

“Come on, baby,” Logan says. “Take a bite.”

You rest a palm on the back of his head, urging him closer, lifting your head and kissing his neck, licking the salty taste of him from over his fluttering pulse. You open your mouth, sinking your teeth into skin and muscle and vein until warm blood spills into your mouth. The combination of his blood on your tongue and his cock spreading you open sends you over the edge.

Above you, Logan growls, a deep rumble you can feel down to your marrow, some ancient part of you preening with excitement. He holds himself still as you clench around him. Your orgasm slowly subsides and you find the strength to unclench your tense jaw from his neck, gently licking at the blood that spills from the deep impressions of your teeth.

Logan sits up, cock slipping from your body and leaving you achingly empty. His hands grip your hips, forcefully turning your lax body over and hiking your ass into the air. He spreads your cheeks and the vulnerable position has your whole body growing hot.

“Hope you didn’t think we were done,” he tells you as he positions himself behind you, thrusting his length back into your body and setting a brutal pace that has you crying out into the night. 

One hand holds your hip with bruising force while the other settles on your shoulder, pulling you into every delicious snap of his hips. Your mind goes blissfully blank with the overwhelming pleasure building up inside of you for the third time.

He folds forward, his chest pressed to your back and his pace growing sloppy as he nears his own release. A hand curls around yours, a moment of intimacy that leaves you reeling.

Logan roars, hips slamming into a final time, dragging your last orgasm from you as his cock pulses with his release inside of you. A sharp pain on your hip makes you gasp and you notice his claws have extended from the hand wrapped around yours, sinking into the dirt.

“Shit,” he pants, sitting up after a moment. The loss of his heat makes you shiver. “I nicked you.”

You slowly move yourself into a seated position, muscles feeling like jelly, and inspect the area that the pain came from. Your leggings have a new slice in the fabric and the material is sticky with blood but to your surprise, there’s no wound to be found.

“You heal that quick?” Logan asks. You shake your head.

“Not usually.” You run your fingers over smooth skin. “Must have been your blood.”

“You think so?”

You shrug. “Just a guess. Never fed from someone with advanced healing factor.”

“You sayin’ I’m your first?” he asks with a smirk. You can’t help the laugh that escapes and his smirk stretches into a grin. Logan stands, fixing his pants and holding a hand out to help you up. 

“How am I supposed to get back into the mansion like this?” you ask, gesturing to your destroyed leggings. 

“Guess I didn’t think that through,” he admits. “Give me a few minutes and I can be back with some new clothes.”

“How are you going to get into my room?”

He turns to look at you, continuing to walk backwards.

“I’m a man of many talents.”

With a wink, he disappears through the trees. You sigh.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Thank you for reading!

LINKS

all masterlists | logan howlett masterlist | support for palestine

[cheeseceli]

When you struggle to eat

Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, reactions

Request: reader thinking she eats "too much" and decides to eat way less for her body image, and how the skz boys would react to that.

Warnings: eating struggles will be discussed; reader has body image issues; mentions of food multiple times; use of petnames in Chan and Changbin's

Disclaimer: this was made with the purpose to comfort anyone who's going through a similar situation. If I made a mistake and made someone uncomfortable/aggravated the situation, please do tell me and I'll correct or delete this post immediately, whatever is preferred. Topics related to eating disorders will be discussed here, please don't read if that's something that triggers you.

Bang Chan - is ready to listen to all your worries

‌We all remember Chan's Room right?

‌He's ready to spend hours if needed just to understand what you're going through ‌and where your insecurities are coming from

‌At the same time, he will never judge you

‌So you know he's your safe place

Constantly checks up on you even if he's far away through texts and calls

And if there's someone who's aggravating the situation or making you insecure, you can bet he's gonna solve the situation himself

"Talk to me baby. What's going on in that mind of yours, hm?"

Lee Know - eats with you

Probably the first to realise something's off, considering food is almost his love language atp

Likes to have as many meals with you as possible

‌He usually makes a mountain of food in his plate, so you don't worry about the amount of food in yours

‌And he also runs errands with you

‌Especially those like buying food

‌You don't even gotta ask, he would be volunteering on the first opportunity

‌Also cooks for you, whatever you want

"Do you want to eat anything? I can cook"

Changbin - Hype man

‌Your personal hype man fr

‌Is ready to compliment you in absolutely everything

‌The best part is that you know that his compliments are always genuine

‌What do you mean you didn't like that trousers?? You looked fantastic in it! That shirt made you look even more gorgeous

‌He has known you for so long and still, he always finds something new to compliment you on

But even if after all the reassurance you want to change the way you look, he will be by your side to help you do it in a safe and healthy way

"You look perfect, baby. I promise. Actually, I still don't believe I managed to pull someone so beautiful like that"

Hyunjin - has all meals with you

‌And with that, I really mean all meals

‌Breakfast, lunch, dinner, you name it

‌Even if you can't really get out of your work place or your university, he's going there then

‌He just doesn't want you to be by yourself

‌He also always has something to say during those meals

‌News about their comeback, gossip at jyp, stories from his childhood...

He never fails to admire you a lot in those moments as well, never letting you forget how much he loves and appreciates you

‌He does that hoping it will distract you from the food, so you can be more at ease

"Have I ever told you about the time Kkami bit my ankle? I think I still have the scar."

Han - makes you feel beautiful

‌He truly doesn't understand how you don't think you're the most beautiful human being to ever set foot on this earth

‌In his eyes, you were born perfect

‌So, naturally, he makes it his mission to make you see yourself in his point of view

‌Compliments and adores you

‌Will make you feel beautiful, pretty, sexy, cute... Whatever you wanna be

‌Above all, he'll make you feel loved

"No matter what size, you'll always be my love. Don't forget that."

Felix - distracts you

‌With that, I mean that he tries to take your attention off food and body image related subjects

‌Before and after eating, he will always bring you along to activities where your mind can be turned off

‌So many fun dates!!

‌Even during the meals he'll have a similar idea to hyunjin and simply won't shut up

‌Most of his compliments don't involve around your body, so you really don't think about it

"I love this hairstyle of yours. It looks wonderful"

Seungmin - protects you

‌In a sense that no one even dares to comment on your looks/habits

Even if he isn't there with you

‌That because he made it very clear that everyone should watch their mouths around you

‌For as long as he's around you, he will do his best and more to protect you from harmful comment

Also tries to experiment a lot of different foods with you all the time, so you never feel like that's a burden or a bad thing

"Hey, have you heard about the new restaurant close to home? The food is peruvian. We could have dinner there tonight."

I.N - physically reassures you

‌He loves you and every single part of you, including your looks

I believe he was a bit lost in the beginning, not exactly sure on how to help you

‌But even if his words aren't exactly his biggest strength, he still wants to reassure you as much as he can

‌So he does that with his touch

‌Holding you on his lap, kissing all of your "imperfections" and tracing patterns in your skin

‌Anything that can ground, reassure and give you comfort at the same time

"Have I ever told you how perfect you are? I should tell you that more."

Masterlist | you'll probably like: when you're overworked (ateez comfort)

Thank you for reading<3 I hope this was able to help someone

» I won't put the taglist on this one as I don't want to tag anyone in something that can possibly trigger them «

Dividers by @/cafekitsune, images 1 2 3

Thank you so much for the beta readers: @duhgurl @beebee18 @applekiwi3202 @elqivxstxr @mrsunshine999 @msauthor

[loulovingho]

“Tommy!” Eddie cheered, lifting his drink toward the sky as he spotted his friend walking toward him. “Whatcha doin' here, Man?”

“Figured I'd stop by and see how you were doing, Bud,” Tommy replied. He gave Eddie a pat on the back as he sat down in the empty seat next to him. “You come here alone?”

“Mhm. Needed ta get out. House's too quiet.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Too long,” the bartender interrupted as he walked by. “Was about to cut him off. I already took his keys.”

Eddie's eyebrows furrowed, looking around the bar counter. “Hey! You took my keys.”

“I got him,” Tommy said, giving the bartender a nod. “I gotta say, at least you're talking better than you're texting. I was worried.”

Eddie's face scrunched up in confusion. “Huh? I never did texted you.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” Tommy fished his phone out of his jacket pocket and went to his messages. “'Buuuuuuuck, lezz drink, Buddy.' Then five minutes later, 'Bruck, why rn't you at bar? I waiting.' A good two minutes after that you sent me your location with an angry emoji. Then, and this is my personal favorite, 'Loser too busy kissy kissy with Tummy to be a friendship.'”

"Huh. Thought I was textin' Buck.”

“Yeah, I pieced that together.”

“So where's Buck if you're not kissy kissy?” Eddie asked, his final drink sloshing over his fingers as he attempted to bring it to his lips.

Tommy took the drink from Eddie and set it back on the counter. “Evan is watching Jee overnight so Howie and Maddie can have a night away. So, you wanna talk about whatever's bothering you? I mean, I could take a guess, but...”

“Nah. No, no, nope. I wanna,” Eddie pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Lessgo karaoke, Tomboy-”

“We're not calling me that.”

“I wanna sing to the rooftops,” Eddie continued, his words slurring more and more with each sentence. “I wanna. I wanna be, you know, be free, Tommy. I don't have a rea-,” he hiccuped, “reason to get back home.”

“Really? Seems like that's exactly where you need to be right now.”

Eddie's eyes widened, like he'd thought of the best idea in the entire world. “Let's go to Peeping Tom! That's your name!”

“Peeping Tom is a gay bar, Eddie.”

“I don judge.”

“A very kinky, fully nude gay bar,” Tommy clarified.

Eddie squinted, deep in thought. “No karaoke?”

“No karaoke.”

“Well, then were we go? Don't say home!”

“Home.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groaned, allowing Tommy to wrap an arm around his back and help him up. “You're like a no- no fun dad. Wish I'd texted fun dad.”

Tommy gripped onto Eddie tighter as he stumbled while taking a step. He sighed. “Maybe next time.”

*****

When Eddie woke up the next morning it was to a pounding headache and blinding sunlight coming through his window. He was nauseous and his mouth tasted like a mixture of gasoline and mouthwash.

He laid there for a few minutes, trying to figure out what happened that made him feel so unbelievably ill.

After a few failed attempts, he finally rolled out of bed and made his way into the kitchen to fix himself some coffee.

He froze when he walked through the door to see Tommy sitting there, reading the newspaper.

“Good... morning?” Eddie started, confused.

Tommy set the paper down. “Morning. Sleep well?”

“I- I think so, I guess. It's a little blurry.”

Tommy hummed. “Not surprising. Coffee just finished, if you want some. Your couch is not comfortable, by the way.”

“Buck's never complained.”

“Yeah, well, he's easier to please than I am.”

Eddie was too hungover for this. He had so many questions, but for some reason the first one out of his mouth was: “Where'd you put my shoes?”

“In your closet.”

He grabbed himself a cup for some coffee. “My keys?”

“We have to go pick them up at the bar today, along with your car, obviously.”

“You didn't close my curtains last night. Woke up thinking I was being interrogated by Ice T.”

Tommy sighed, leaning back in his seat. “'Thank you so much for getting me home safely, Tommy. Did it hurt your back having to drag me into the house while I belted out Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of my lungs?'” He stood, walking over to Eddie and taking the coffee out of his hand, drinking a big sip. “Thank you for asking, Eddie. I think my back will be okay, but my ears will never recover.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, turning to fix himself another cup. “Thank you for getting me home safely, Tommy. I appreciate it.”

“Mhm. No problem.” Tommy returned to his seat and Eddie joined him at the table. They sat in silence for a couple minutes, taking small sips of their drinks.

Eventually, Tommy set his cup down a little harder than normal, getting Eddie's attention with the clinking sound. “Wanna talk about it?”

“About what? How your coffee tastes like cigarette sludge?”

“I'll take that as a no then.” Tommy checked his watch. “The bar doesn't open until three. Want me to stop by and pick you up then?”

Eddie shook his head. “I can just get an Uber, Man, thanks though.”

“Of course. I'll, uh, let you recover.” Tommy stood and went to leave, checking his pocket for his keys and phone.

As he neared the door, Eddie spoke. “Wait,” he said. Tommy turned back to face him.

“Yeah?”

“Why'd you sleep on my couch?”

“You're my friend,” he answered simply. “You drank a lot. Wanted to make sure you were okay.” He took a step back toward the table. “Are you okay?”

Eddie cradled the mug in his hands, watching the steam rise from the cup. “You don't... How long has it been? Since you talked to your dad?”

Okay, so Tommy wasn't leaving then.

He came to the table and sat down, taking a moment to think about Eddie's question. “About six years, I think.”

“What did he do?” He looked over at Tommy. “To make you stop talking to him, I mean. Unless you don't wanna get into it. In fact, forget it, I shouldn't-”

“Eddie, it's fine,” Tommy assured him. “I don't mind.”

“Okay,” Eddie nodded, sitting up straighter. “So? What happened?”

“It wasn't just one thing,” Tommy explained. “It was a lifetime of things. He's... He's not a good man. I think the catalyst was about a year after I came out. I hadn't been home in awhile, so I decided to drive to his place one weekend. When he answered the door he said, 'What the hell are you doing here?' I told him I was coming to see him and he said, 'What's the damn point in that?' I thought about it for a second and realized that was a good question, so I turned around, got in my car, and left. Never looked back.” Eddie seemed to be contemplating his words, and Tommy could tell where this was going. “It's not the same thing, Eddie,” he said, beating Eddie to it.

“What if he doesn't come back? What I did, Tommy, it wasn't... It was bad.”

“You made a mistake.”

“I cheated on my girlfriend with a doppelganger of his mom, Tommy, and he caught me.”

“Granted, it was a big mistake,” Tommy deadpanned. “But, still a mistake. He'll come around. You gotta give him time.”

“People keep telling me that,” Eddie replied with an eye roll. “That he'll come around. But it's been months of nothing. And it seems like no matter what I do, it's not enough.”

“You're trying.”

Eddie huffed. “I'm not sure getting drunk alone at a bar is trying.”

“I think it shows you care, Eddie. And, yeah, that shouldn't become a habit, but you're allowed to be upset. You're allowed to hurt. You made a mistake, but you're a good dad and Christopher knows that. He will come around.”

“And if he doesn't?” Eddie asked, staring over at Tommy.

“Then you keep trying,” Tommy replied. “You never stop trying. Keep being there, keep sending him letters and getting him on Facetime. Go for a visit. Send him texts. I'm not saying you gotta smother him, but never let him forget that you're there. That's the biggest mistake you could ever make.”

“Yeah,” Eddie took a deep breath. “Yeah, you're right. I just... I gotta keep it up. Let him know I'm here, whenever he's ready.”

“Exactly.”

Eddie looked over at the clock on his stove, 11:32 staring back at him. He had no idea he'd slept so long. “Why don't you call Buck, see if he wants to come over and watch a game? Then you can drive me to my car.”

“Oh, you want me to call Evan? Don't you mean fun dad?” Tommy asked, eying Eddie.

It took him a minute, but the memory came back to him. “I did say that, didn't I?”

“You did,” Tommy confirmed. “Which I'm very offended by, by the way. I'm fun!”

Eddie sighed, his head drooping down. “I know you are.”

“I introduced you to karaoke trivia. I've flown you to Vegas.”

“I remember.”

“I never tried to seriously injure you in the name of love.”

“Which I'm very grateful for.”

“I don't have control issues when I have a clipboard in my hand.”

“Are you just gonna keep listing reasons why you're fun?”

“I once shoved three cupcakes in my mouth at once! Nearly choked to death, but Evan whacked me on the back and everything went down just fine.”

Eddie stood with his mug in hand, pointing toward the living room, “I'm gonna go to the couch. Get more comfortable.”

Tommy followed behind, pulling out his phone to call Buck. “I'll let Evan tell you who bowled a 230 last week. Hint: it was me!”

[willows-peak]

jjk boys reacting to getting a morning wood next to you

ANONNN UR MIND <3333

*･ﾟ✧ JJK Men With Morning Wood

tags: multi character x reader, fem! reader, morning sex, thigh fucking, humping, handjobs, male masturbation, mutual masturbation kinda, the ittiest bit of degradation in toji's

word count: 4.9k wowie zowie

a/n: eek my first request...so happy. this was so fun to write ty anon, im supes sorry it took so long to write! i may have gotten carried away,, also TYSM FOR 100 FOLLOWERS HOLY SHIT 🎉🎉🎉🎉should i do a milestone reward :o

NSFW UNDER CUT! MDNI

⋆｡˚ ♡ gojo: wakes you up and begs to fuck your thighs

Gojo woke with a startle, his body only lending him a few moments to adjust to his surroundings before he had to stifle a low groan into his palm, a dull, overpowering throb sending shocks of pleasure up his spine. He blearily glanced downwards to where he felt the heat starting to pool, his vision being blocked off by your body, pressed tight against his.

You were moving around in your sleep quite a bit, leg thrown across his own and arms wrapped tight around his chest. A quiet noise left his throat as he felt that jolt go through his body again, your hips moving up against his crotch just enough to graze across the head of his clothed cock, making him swear under his breath.

He'd found the culprit for his sudden awakening, but now comes the issue of taking care of it. The combination of sleepiness and horniness was making his head feel foggy, eyes darting around the softly lit room for any kind of distraction he could find for himself. Now he knew why you always made a fuss when he clung to you in bed, it was near impossible to move around and touch himself without waking you.

He bit his lip tightly as he felt his cock jump up in his boxers, eyes drifting back to your body innocently leaning onto his. The time on the clock read '10:20 am', much past the normal time you would wake up normally. You wouldnt be *too* upset if he just..?

"Baby.." he whispered, the arm encompassing your waist shifting forwards to jostle your still body, making you whine against his chest and hug him closer in defiance. "C'mon baby, get up." he said, moving you again and giving him a louder whine in response.

Through his persistence, your head turned up and poking out from the bumps of his naked chest, eyelids lowered as you slowly started to wake up

“G'morning beautiful, sorry to wake you up like this” he chuckled, brushing a small section of hair from your face as he watched your eyes travel downwards, to how his erection poked against your inner thigh. “You don't gotta do anything, just please-” Gojo shuddered as you slowly grinded up against his tent, your soft voice making the fog in his head worsen. 

“Lemme fuck your thighs, alright baby? Please, it'll be quick, I promise” his chest rose up and down in quick, shallow breaths, stilling himself with all his might when the head of his dick slipped snuggly into the dip of your thighs, right underneath your panty clad pussy. “Please, sweet thing? I'll make you cum too, promise” he ran his hands down to your hip, pressing his lips together when you let out the softest moan.

Still too sleepy for talking, you nodded into his collarbones, spreading your legs apart enough for Gojo to slip inside them. Gojo almost moaned at the display in front of him, hushed praises and thanks coming from his lips as he hurriedly slipped down his pants and boxers, sighing in relief when the uncomfortable pressure of his underwear was finally gone.

Gojo's hand made quick work slipping his pants down to mid way down his thighs, moving his fingers to lightly press against the crotch of your panties. “Shit…” he whispered, feeling the way your pussy was already starting to wetten up for him. “Have a good dream about me, huh?” he teased, rubbing slow circles on your clit before replacing it with his length.

He could feel you clench around nothing through the thin fabric, a shudder erupting through his lower half as you slowly closed your legs back around his cock. He groaned under his breath at the warmth enveloping him, chuckling and pulling his hips back. “Shit, you feel good… where’s the lube, wanna make it feel better” he mumbled as he turned his body around to search through the drawers behind him, rummaging around loudly until he triumphantly brought out a small, almost empty bottle of clear liquid.

“Spread your legs again, this’ll make it feel good.” he spoke, a small *click* as he flipped the bottle open and squirted the liquid onto his deft fingers. As he massaged it into the plush of your thigh, his thumb caught underneath your panties, pulling the fabric to the side smoothly. His lubed fingers came to spread your lips open, the cold morning air blowing across your sensitive cunt and making you shiver from the exposure. ‘Satoruu..” you whined, feeling his cock slide up your thigh to rest right against your pussy.

“Close em, fuck, I don’ think I can stay still for long” he whispered, his large body coming to hold your lower half flush with his own. You whimpered and wordlessly followed what he asked, moaning softly at the feeling of his firm cock grazing *so* slowly across your pussy.

“That’s the shit, god.. such a good girl for me” Gojo whispered, his voice sultry and practically dripping with heat as he grinded up into your thighs, his dick gliding across the wetness of your pussy and perfectly rubbing against your clit. “Hold onto me baby, I’m not gonna be gentle.”

⋆｡˚ ♡ getou: kisses you awake and humps your leg

Getou carefully turned himself around, keeping note of your tight grip against his sides and letting himself relax back against the warm sheets as he shifted himself closer to you, his fingers coming to cradle your soft hair as his lips met with your face.

Ever since getting with you, Getou had gradually lost interest in getting himself off, especially in the mornings like this. he could feel the way his half hard erection slowly filled out his pants more as he drunk you in, his lips taking their time to press against each and every crevice of your face.

He could feel you start to stir, your soft eyelashes slowly cracking open to meet with his gaze, lowered with his pupils expanded to cover the majority of his eyes.

He pulled away just enough to give you room to yawn, his hand sliding down the front of his body to grope at his cock as you greeted him, voice crackly and quiet. "Good morning hun" Getou spoke, his voice gruff right against your ear as he resumed his onslaught of kisses.

"Mm-" you tried to get out a word of questioning as to why he was so affectionate, but your lips quickly turned into a home for Getou's, tenderly kissing you. You could feel low, muffled groans being thrust into your mouth as he lifted your face up to meet with his better. “Sugu-” you gasped, pulling away only to be hungrily brought back to his lips.

“Shh, stick out your leg f’ me, baby” Getou ordered, smiling when you wordlessly obeyed him. You gasped again as your knee brushed over his bulge, Getou’s free hand coming down to hold it still. “Feel that pretty girl?” he asked, watching you nod and try to press harder against him. “Think you can help out with this?” he offered, biting his lip in arousal at how quickly you agreed with his request.

His grip on your thigh loosened, just enough to give you the wiggle room to grind down into his erection. His raspy, deep voice filled your ears as he ground his hips down into your hard knee, hand climbing up to grope at your butt and snickering when you squeaked in surprise.

“So nasty..” you murmured, watching with bated breath as he caressed the back of your thigh tenderly. “Only for you, sweet girl… fuck, keep doin that-” he grunted out, your knee pressing up against his balls slightly as he humped against you.

He’d slipped up to grinding against the meat of your thigh by now, whispers of your name escaping from his lips as a small, barely noticeable spot of wetness started to seep through the fabric of his sweatpants. “Sugu, kiss me again, please” you begged, barely needing to wait before geto’s lips came crashing onto yours. His thick, hot tongue eagerly pressed through your parted lips, grinning into the kiss as his tongue twirled around yours.

Your body quickly flushed warmly under his strong hold, feeling how pulsed and ground hard against your thigh, your breath catching in your throat when his tongue dipped up to the roof of your mouth, licking along the length of it before pulling away for a gasp of air. “So fucking sexy, baby girl, god- say my name baby please” Getou moaned, the grinds against your thighs speeding up sloppily. Getou could never control himself when he got like this, so desperate for an orgasm he’d take anything you gave him as long as it got him off.

“Suguruuu-” you drew out your words, half moaning and half whining as he raised your leg to grind back down into your knee. “Yeah, that’s right, say it louder f’ me” Getou purred, panting as his hips thrusted down onto your leg. You spoke his name again, feeling your pussy thump in tandem with your heart at Getou’s husky moans filling the thick air around you two. “Wanna see me cum, beautiful?” he asked, voice lifting as his body grew closer to orgasm already. “Mmmhm, please Sugu lemme see” 

Getou fumbled with the band of his sweatpants clumsily, pulling them down to reveal his flushed red cock, the stain of pre cum much bigger now against the dark gray cotton fabric. You squirmed as Getou slid his lubed cock onto your bare thigh, rubbing down against the warm, soft skin and shivering softly. “Keep your eyes here, got it?” He whispered, forehead pressed against yours as the two of you watched his hips quickly pick up pace against your leg, raunchy sounding groans and chants of your name falling from his lips carelessly.

“Shit- y’ so good to me baby, so fucking good” Getou stumbled out, hair falling around the two of you as his head bowed down in pleasure. “Touch it honey, please, wanna cum for you” You gasped in arousal, warmth pooling down in your stomach as you quickly stroked the base of his dick, letting your fingers caress down onto his balls when your palm reached the bottom. 

“*F-fuck* yes, cumming, I’m cumming, oh my *god*-” Getou groaned loudly, body trembling and curling into itself as his cock throbbed harshly against your thigh, cum leaking out of his tip and coating the skin of your leg and your hand. You slowed your hand down as Getou rode out his orgasm onto you, uneven bucks and thrusts up against you making you whimper under your breath from how hot you felt.

Getou continued to let out broken noises as his orgasm slowly simmered down, weakly grinding down into the puddle of cum he’d made. He let out fast, shuddered breaths as he rested against you, rubbing your thigh and kissing your forehead gently. Getou used his free hand to cup your chin, lifting it up to meet with his foggy, pleasure hazed eyes. “Don’t worry honey…I’m not done yet” Getou purred, gaze falling down to the way your thighs squeeze together.

⋆｡˚ ♡ nanami: jerks himself off to not disturb your beauty sleep

Nanami let out a drawn out sigh as he snuck his hand downwards, carefully scooting the blankets aside for his hand to get under them. He was hard, and badly at that. And while he didn’t at all blame you for this, he’d noticed that he’s started getting more intense morning wood when you’re with him, leading to him having to carefully wrap his hand around his erection and get himself off without waking you up.

He also, never seemed to realize he could simply turn over and plop you down on the empty bed space next to him until after he was done, discreetly wiping himself off and nudging you awake. He has to pretend he doesn’t know why it slips his mind, even though he knows good and well why he chooses this riskier route. 

Some gross, locked away part of him loves thinking about waking you up by feeling his thick cock pressed against your hole through your panties, his hand quickly stroking himself through orgasm as you moaned at the wet feeling of his cum soaking you. Knowing you, he’d be met with the sweetest moan of his name as the after shocks of his orgasm faded over his body, pressing your hips down against his abdomen.

He held back a noise at that thought, his fingers finally ghosting over his pre cum soaked tip, rubbing small circles across the hole of it before working his way down his shaft. He focused on keeping his breathing steady as you dozed off on his chest.

Staring at the ceiling above him as he bit his lip with concentration. You were, thankfully, not a light sleeper, but he’d rather avoid the embarrassing notion of you waking up to him like *this*.

Nanami had done this many many times before, so he knew exactly what to think of to get himself off quick. Not that it ever took long with you, he could count the amount of times he’d nearly cum on the spot when you shimmied your panties off, a string of wetness clinging to your sensitive, pulsating cunt, your swollen clit peeking between the pink-ish folds. The few times when he’d come home tired and ready to either crash into your arms or the bed, when you’d so lovingly take care of him by riding the soul out of his body.

God, he wanted that so badly right now, watching your ass ripple from how hard you were slamming down onto his cock, moaning his name as he felt your hole twitch around him, the unmistakable way you’d quiver and still yourself as you came around his cock, whimpering and squeaking out high pitched little noises as he fucked up into you through your orgasm. 

*‘Later’* Nanami promised to himself, feeling his chest begin to rise and fall rapidly as his hand pumped his cock, holding back sighs and grunts of pleasure as his arm stood as still as possible, his wrist rapidly falling up and down as he fisted his cock.

His hands rapidly squeezed along his thick shaft, desperate to mimic the way your pussy would clamp down so tightly when he bottomed out inside of you.

He was quick to move his hand off your waist, and over his mouth as he nearly moaned out loud at the thought, silently cursing his memory for being so detailed in this moment. He froze stiffly as he felt you start to stir in your sleep, sleepily reaching out before he joined his hand with yours. He sighed shakily, speaking lowly to not wake you further, his hand still grazing across the sensitive veins alongside his cock. “Shh, go back to sleep dear, I’m here.” He could almost laugh at how easily you fell limp back against him, your breathing slowing back down and a one off snore leaving your throat.

He gently held onto your hand, the fist still around his cock now picking up speed, wet sounds being poorly muffled through the blanket as he leaned his head back against the pillows. The adrenaline from just now only fueled onto his racing heart and sensitivity, hand clamping down onto yours as he could start to feel his orgasm quickly approaching him. 

His teeth grit together subtly, holding back swears as his legs tensed up, his fist slapping loudly down against his dick as his stomach tightened. “Shit-” he swore, his orgasm overtaking him before he could prepare for it. His fist rushed up to close down over his dick, covering his tip as it leaked out thick spurts of his cum. He held his breath in his throat as he trembled, pressure mixing wildly with the fading anxiety of being caught and the pleasure of his hand pushing down across his girth.

He let out a deep sigh as fresh air filled his lungs, his heartbeat loud and clear in his ears while his cock started to soften. He breathed out in relief, glancing downwards at your peaceful figure, none the wiser at what he’d done.

Now, to clean this up before you stirred again..

⋆｡˚ ♡ toji: tries to will it away bc he doesnt feel like taking care of it, doesnt work. u wake up and take care of it for him

Toji grunted under his breath at yet another twitch of his erection, rubbing almost painfully against the starch material of his boxers. He'd been laying like this for a while now, achingly hard with you happily snoozing on his chest, unaware of the predicament he was in.

The rational decision to make here would be to wake you up, or even reach into his pants and get himself off, but it was a *little* hard to do that when one shuffle of his leg got him a whine of complaint and you shimmying back up on his body, getting yourself comfy again before falling back asleep.

And since Toji was *such* a gentleman, how could he disturb your beauty sleep and get himself off?

"Fuckin' hell..." Toji spoke softly, the pressure of your warm body laying on top of him, giving his dick the barest hint of stimulation driving him mad, slowly but surely. There was always the idea of grinding his hips up and jerking himself off with the plush of your thighs, but he knew that'd only result in you grumpily waking up from his cum coating you, glaring at him with those sweet eyes of yours, wiggling your pretty hips over his softening cock, and drowsily cursing him out for wasting his load on your leg like that-

A sharp pulse through his dick ceased his thoughts, making him loudly groan into the morning air. He heard you make a small squeak at the sudden sound, looking down and smirking. “Mornin’ princess” he greeted, his low voice carrying through the quiet air, much to your displeasure. “Y'ur hard…” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes and leaning your hips back to cradle over his tent. 

Toji grunted at the feeling of you lazily grinding down against him, laughing and placing his hands behind his head. “Yeah, I am. Whatcha wanna do about it?” his lips cracked open into a toothy grin, watching the way you sleepily glowered up at him, raising yourself up by the arms and pushing yourself backwards on his lap.

You stifled a yawn into your arm, your ass colliding with Toji’s sturdy abs and making you lose your balance for a small second, your eyes shooting open on instinct. “Careful, now” Toji replied, ever the helpful one as he looked you up and down decidedly. Despite your attitude in the mornings, Toji loved when you got like this, moody, sulking from being awake 'so early' as you'd put it, but not ever hesitating to make him cum all over your pretty fingers.

“You couldn't do it y'self?” you asked accusingly, now seated right below Toji's bulge, your smaller hand pressing down against his length. “Nah, you do it better” Toji said snarkily, watching your eyes roll as you slipped down his sweatpants. For as annoyed as you always looked when he woke you up with his hard on, your eyes almost glittered from how wide they'd get, staring at his thick cock poking out from the band of his underwear. 

“Go on mamas, it won't bite.” He teased, groaning under his breath at your hands quickly pulling the last piece of clothing off him, your fingers pinching over his tip to lube his cock with his pre cum. “Dirty girl..” he commented, his voice much too confident for your liking. “Zip it.” you glared up at him, watching him run his pointer and thumb across his mouth in a zipper motion, the silence immediately being broken when you squeezed your hand around the base of his cock.

With a kiss of your teeth, you quickly began jerking him off, your hand twisting up near the tip before slamming back down at the base, making him let out a pleased moan. He knew you loved when he got vocal, so he made sure to put a little more effort into telling you how good you were doing for him. His sugar sweet girl, so cute even when she was being so slutty like this, manicured nails struggling to meet as they stretched over the girth of his fat dick. Your cheeks flushed as you continued, trying to subtly wiggle your hips as his words sent jolts of arousal straight to your cunt.

“Don’t stop, baby, fuck-” Toji let out, head tilting to the side as he never took his eyes off of you. “You better make this up t’ me, Toji” You murmured, cheeks feeling hot at his heavy gaze, making you feel surrounded by him even as you laid across his flexed thighs. “Oh yeah? You want me to fuck you with my fingers after you make me cum? Make that pretty pussy squirt?” You barely stifled a whine at his brash words, Toji laughing under his breath when he felt the way you tried to grind down against him.

“Yeah, that’s what my girl wants. Fuck, c’mon and make daddy cum, lemme get my hands on you.” Toji groaned, chest rising up and down as you added your other hand to stroke him. He swore at the sight, his brain fogging with arousal at how even your two hands struggled to handle his dick. Toji’s mouth struggled to stay closed as he could practically *feel* how desperate you were now through the way your hands moved, milking his dick effortlessly and making the coil in his stomach tighten fast.

“Fuck- open your mouth baby, yeah that’s it, *shit*-” Toji’s arms came down to grip at your hair, holding your head still as your tongue lolled out of your mouth, drool beginning to run down the tip of it as he came on your face. You watched through your lashes at how his eyes rolled back, hand covering his face as he groaned lowly, warm cum coming out quickly and covering your lips. 

Your hands came to a stop when Toji’s iron grip on your hair loosened, his body falling back against the bed as you swallowed what had gotten in your mouth. You made a small sound of annoyance as your hand was now covered in Toji’s cum, your thumb rubbing against your plush lip and gathering a stray drop of cum from them. Glancing back down at your boyfriend, you could see him facing you yet again, a grin making its way back onto his face.

You yelped loudly as you felt your body get dragged up Toji’s body, hovering over his stomach with your legs spread open widely. “Whatcha doing with your panties still on? C’mon baby, show me what I wanna see.” Toji purred, licking his lips when you shyly brushed the crotch of your underwear to the side. “*That’s* right…”

⋆｡˚ ♡ choso: wakes up and asks if he can fuck you

soft clicking across a keyboard filled choso's ears as his brain slowly came into conscious, a vision of you seated on your side of the bed, leaning back comfortably against the pillows as you typed away at your laptop. choso let out a shocked sound as he tried to scoot closer to you, his pajamas unreasonably tight around his crotch and making his body shiver with sensitivity.

You paused your writing at the noise, shutting it and turning your head over to him. "Good morning cho" You smiled down at him, the morning glow of the sun casting highlights across your chest and collarbones, the loose fitting night gown you sported hiding nothing from Choso's rapidly growing imagination. He felt his leg twitch up at another jerk up against the cotton of his pants, a quiet gasp getting pushed from his lips in surprise.

Your laptop had been placed on the floor by the bed at this point, your body turned over to face Choso while your fingers went to caress his flushed cheeks. “‘M hard” he croaks out softly, making you giggle and nod “I can tell, baby.” he pushes himself up with his forearm slowly, moaning under his breath when his dick grazed against his thigh. “Need you, c’mere, please” he rasped out, tossing the blanket off of him and watching how your eyes dropped down to his tent. 

Your body quickly came to lay back down next to his, lifting your nightgown up to reveal your bare body underneath. Choso moaned shamelessly at how you looked, running his hands across your soft stomach all the way down to the small slit hidden between your thighs. “Thank you, thank you, gonna make you feel good, promise-” he purred out, leaning down to kiss you as his thick fingers quickly made their way to pulling down his pants. 

“So needy, aren't you baby?” you teased lightly, watching excitedly as Choso’s hard cock bounced out of his boxers, slapping the dip of his abs with a quiet ‘pwip’ sound. He nodded along breathlessly, hands gripping the fabric of his underwear tightly as you spread your legs, grinding your bare pussy down against his shaft. You shuddered when you felt it twitch up against you, Choso poorly hiding a whine into his hand as he grabbed your hips, pressing his lips together and pulling his underwear down to his knees.

Your nightgown, previously bunched up midway up your tummy, was now being pulled off leisurely by you, Choso quickly coming to cup his hand underneath your chest. “Yes yes, thank you, won’t take long I promise- *ohh god*” he spoke, voice unsteady and breathy as he prodded his tip against your hole, eyes threatening to roll up when he felt how easily you sucked him in. 

You moved your hips down to meet with his cautious thrusts up, tightening around him as he slowly, so slowly inched his way inside of you. “Haahh- so tight” Choso vocalized, looking up into your eyes as he started to bottom out inside you. Choso had been made aware he was *much* bigger than average, so he’s always been extra careful when sheathing inside of you, mind being driven into filth at the way your pussy would so eagerly swallow him up, hole stretched wide over the base of his dick, your wetness seeping out and coating the front of his balls. 

“Need this so badly, need you” Choso chanted, your name feeling like pure sugar on his tongue as he moaned it. The way you felt, stretched taught all the way down to the bottom of his dick, wet and hot and tight as he reeled his hips back, sighing out so softly as he kissed along your neck made his body feel tingly with pleasure. 

To Choso’s credit, he was honest when he said he wouldn’t take long. With a simple plea in his ear, and a clench down around him, he was wordlessly rutting up into you, his thumb coming down to rub quick circles across your swollen clit. Breathless little ‘ah- ah- ah’s’ spilled from his lips into your shoulder as your leg hooked around his waist, hugging him close as he sloppily fucked into you.

“Sorry, ‘m already, *ah* already close, can I? Inside?” Choso asked, his words broken and strained as his hips effortlessly rammed up into your pussy, filling it out so perfectly that it was impossible not to dumbly nod along with anything Choso asked for. His eyes sparkled as they started to get misty, teeth clenching together while his hands held your hips still, abs tightening as his body chased after his orgasm that was rapidly approaching.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, go-” Choso’s begs were cut off by your lips crashing down into his, his moans being drank down by you as he came instantly, shaking in your grasp as he thrusted up deeply into your pussy. The thumb on your clit never stopped as he came, stroking it alongside the bottom of the nub and whining at how it made you tighten down around him. “S-so *good*, can’ stop, plea-se” Choso cried into you, his arms stiffening into a tight grip that left no room to squirm or move away from him.

You whimpered and squeaked at Choso’s uneven, rapid thrusts up into you, his tip threatening to kiss your cervix as he sloppily rode out his orgasm inside you. You could feel the way his full balls emptied out as he grinded his hips down inside you, low groans vibrating against the skin of your neck and making you shiver when they reached your ear. You needily bucked up into him as his fingers pressed down onto your clit, eyelids lowering as your own orgasm was starting to form, just barely. Though, the feeling of tension left as soon as it came, Choso stopping his movements when he was done emptying his load inside of you

You made a noise of discontent as Choso’s thumb moved away from your pussy, clenching down weakly as he pulled out his softening cock from inside you. “Cho…I was gonna cum” You moaned, grunting as he flipped you onto your back. “I know..lemme use my mouth, please?” Choso uttered gently, his body crouched between your spread legs, with his eyes wide and hopeful staring up at you. You resisted the urge to smile as you nodded, shivering at how fast he dipped his head down between your legs

[bbokicidal]

A Simple Analysis. | OT8 [SKZ]

Warnings: I'm gonna be straight discussing these men and their pp sizes so if you don't want to read about that then just skip this post, no biggie.

Notes: I'm just theorizing what I think they're like 'n I included some good 'ol references. Please note - these references include pictures/videos of the boys AS WELL AS pictures that are NOT the boys but are references to what I picture in my head when I write smut for them. I also need to thank @skzms because I Lowkey could not find bulge pics/vids on my own and their post really helped me out w that.

Extra Warning: There are twitter links in this post, so you know what that means!! Watch at your own discretion losers, I don't want ppl in my inbox whining that I use refs that 'don't look like them' like obv jfc let me hop on bub quick to ask Chris for a dick pic smh.

Extra extra warning: I like slowly lost the ability to think the more I wrote this because all I was doing was looking at SKZ cock so I mean. forgive me.

Chris

HEA. VY.

Heavy Heavy Heavy !!!! I said what I said !!! And if you want to know why, you can simply look at this video!! If I'm being totally honest here, I don't think he's massive down below but I do think he's a little above average at least. Maybe -- mm... six and a half inches? Pretty sure it's pretty, pink, and always leaking pre because he gets hard so easily.

Also, pretty sure it's relatively thick. I mean, we've seen it a few times before in his pants/shorts, so... definitely enough to make you whimper when he's splitting you open. <3

I'm not even gonna like. explain why I think this bc I'm pretty sure we all know but it's veiny as fuck and you cannot argue w that.

And his favorite thing is when you mention during sex how full you feel just bc of how heavy he is. :]

In conclusion: Pretty pink fat cock that is more than enough to make you feel incredible each time you fuck. <3333

Minho

This man is... packing. p a c k i n g.

Packing like I'm pretty sure it's not like thick thick but it's thick enough and it's probably more on the purple side than the pink side, and it's so fucking long--

Not as heavy as Chan but definitely bigger. Bigger, longer, one pretty blue vein running up the side. Literally so perfect and just the right size for your hands to fit around. Also not too long to the point where it hurts to take it but definitely... big. Seven, at least. At. Least.

And his favorite thing is when you whine about how he's fucking you so good that you might die. Dunno why that comment specifically gets to him, but he makes sure to fuck you a little deeper after that.

In conclusion: pretty cock for a pretty man and so fucking yummy.

Changbin

Okay look people might disagree but I think Binnie's a lil on the smaller side !!

Now look. I'm not saying 'bah this bitch has a small cock' I'm just saying it's not a cervix-kisser like a few of the men on this list. It's just right!! It's the perfect size to be perfectly comfortable when fucking and he knows that 'n he's happy with it. (I'm thinking five, bc five is a comfy size.)

However.

He will ABSOLUTELY split you wide fucking open with how thick he is. This man has the chubbiest, pink, mouth-watering, pussy-dripping, eyes-rolling-back, tears running down your thighs, cock ever !!! He's gotta prep you for so fucking long and there is always soooo much foreplay to you two having sex because he's just so thick that if you don't prep lots it's gonna hurt a lil and Bin really really just wants to take care of you. :(((

And his favorite thing is seeing the way you struggle to take him in your mouth because of how thick he is. :]]]]]

In conclusion: best cock on this list. <3

Hyunjin

Hoh. My God.

Hyunjin,,,, ... Hyunjin's packing a fucking rod of a cock, I can't even lie to you. I'm like 90% sure it's at least eight inches and if it isn't then I'm dead. Y'all thought Minho was big? LAWD have mercy, Hyunjin's got a fucking PIPE on him. A third leg, if you will. Shit slaps his thigh when he walks if he don't wear briefs.

SO. PRETTY. I keep saying all their cocks are pretty BC THEY ARE I JUST KNOW IT but Hyunjin's cock is actually fucking gorgeous like it's the type where even if you're someone who's like "I don't like dick pics" and he sends you one?? you're like "omg y'know what I've had an epiphany"

Not like heavy or thick like the others but soooo long, soooo pretty, soooo mouth watering. The type of cock that has you actually drooling and getting fucked dumb every time he puts it in you.

And his favorite thing is when you do just that ^ and go all quiet n whimpery during sex because your brain is mushy.

In conclusion: Monster cock and no one can convince me otherwise !!

Jisung

Mm, okay. I think it's -- average?? But see I dunno why but I'm picturing a little on the thinner side. (AND NO THAT ISN'T MY SUB JI SUPREMACY MINDSET SPEAKING) but just bc it's a little thinner doesn't mean it's not heavy !!!

And even though it only might be like - five and a half, it's still so cute and so pretty and so fucking tasty!!!

Also like a firm believer that he jerks it at least twice a day, sorry not sorry.

And his favorite thing is when you blow him because you just take it so well and he loves seeing it all disappear down your throat <33 mm mm mmmm !!

In conclusion: Mmmm,,, cutest cock on the list <3

Felix

Y'all keep saying Felix has a little cock just bc you enjoy Twink Felix and look - I too enjoy Twink Felix but I also believe in frat boy Felix supremacy SO -

Big dick Felix in the building !!!

Pretty sure he's above average. Like, 6 or 6 and a half, maybe?? SO pretty, cut, pink, so so cute, so fucking yummy looking.

Easily like, the slickest cock on the list. And if you know what I mean, you know what I mean. if you don't that too bad ig.

The type of cock you wanna like. put in your mouth forever and just never stop giving him head fr.

And his favorite thing is when you jerk him because sometimes he just doesn't have the energy or care but he wants it. Plus your hands look so much better on it than his do. :ccc <333

In conclusion: Pretty, big, hefty cock that fills you up soooo good. Also constantly leaking cum n making a mess but you didn't hear that from me !!!!

Seungmin

Y'all,,, I'm not just saying this because I'm a Seungmin bias but,,,

This man has a fucking. rod. Not like Hyunjin-length rod but rod that's like at least seven inches and I refuse to believe otherwise because have you seen the,,,,

Fucking!!Monster!!Of!!A!!Cock!!!!

Thick! So thick! So heavy! Rivals Chris w how heavy he is !!

And his favorite thing is when you choke on it because raaahhh!!! (im not okay)

In conclusion: 2Min Monster Cock Squad

Jeongin

Holy God y'all.

Think I mentioned it once in a post where I was like, "P sure Jeongin has a big dick because as soon as he hit 21 he had this massive boom in confidence n I'm p sure it's bc his dick grew like 6 inches"

Sooooo,,, pretty sure he's also in the monster cock squad.

Like, at least seven inches, again. So big, so tasty. The type of cock that makes you pray to God it won't rip you apart because I just know he fucks hard, bro.

And his favorite thing is when you actually scream during sex because of how good he makes you feel. <3

In conclusion: Jeongin big dick supremacy, we all know he's packing a fucking log of summer sausage in his boxers.

Taglist : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

[tender-rosiey]

to be honest, idk how you did it but you truly got me stoked over heian era husband! sukuna. i hate the man with most passion (bcs of what he did in the manga), but i couldn't help but giggling, crying, kicking my feet with butterflies in my stomach every time i read your husband!sukuna stories. your writings are *chef's kiss*, i read all of those more than twice already.

idk if you're currently open for request or not, but i want to ask, are you comfortable writing angst/hurt no comfort stuffs? bcs my mind keeps imagining what and how the husbands (gojo, geto, sukuna, nanami) react to their wife (y/n) got klled right in front of their eyes? perhaps bcs of their enemies or something, the enemies know you are their weakness (imagining sukuna, the king of curses, who's feared by most, or satoru who's known as the strongest — turns out have a weakness that he himself perhaps is not aware of is so mindblowing(?)) anyway, you don't have to write it if you're unable to, no worries and no pressure!!

"YOU— WHO I HAVE LOVED TILL LOVE BURNED"

— when you die in front of gojo, geto, nanami, and sukuna

a/n: hehe i am so glad that you like my heinaera!sukuna MWUAH 💕 we gotta ignore what he is doing in the manga 🧍‍♀️ also sorry in advance y’all, but I lowkey had a blast writing this; hope you like this anon <333

GOJO SATORU:

satoru stood outside the operations room, anxiously tapping his feet on the floor.

he clutches his hands tightly, and his eyes are trained on the door, fixated on your cursed energy that he can feel through the door.

you were going into labor, after long 9 months of waiting.

the two of you were going to finally meet your baby girl. the same girl that the two of you would talk to at night, whispering and giggling amongst yourselves.

he knew that the pregnancy was hard on you, and that’s part of the reason why he is relieved that this day has come.

the moments are long agonizing, and what kills him on the inside are your screams of pain as you try to push out your daughter.

he wanted, so desperately, to be with you in the room, but the doctor decided against it; they thought that it would be better to free the room as they worried that there might be a risk in the labor.

that worried him, but he had no choice but to abide by what they said. finally, the sun smiles upon him, and he hears the cry of his daughter.

he stands up, grin overtaking his face, and eagerly awaiting being let in.

he waits.

and he waits, but nothing happens, and he stops the first nurse that goes out the room, “what is happening? is my wife okay?”

the nurse splutters and nods, before dashing to another room. he doesn’t believe her for one second, and so, he tries looking into the room through the windows on the door.

he can’t see anything, but he can still feel your cursed energy. that’s the only thing that calms him down.

but, he can’t find it in him to sit back on the chair. he leans on the wall beside the door, and his nails dig into his knuckles, almost making them bleed.

he doesn’t snap out of it, until the doctor walks out, lowering his mask, “mister gojo—”

he walks past the doctor and heads inside.

“y/n!” he calls out, but he is met with the sight of the nurses covering your figure with a white cloth. his eyes widen, and he grips the wrist of one of them, “what are you doing? she is not dead.”

the nurse’s brows furrow, and her expression turns into of one of pity. he snaps his head towards you then at her, “she is not dead. I can feel it.”

he can still feel your cursed energy, so they must be wrong.

he looks down at you and cups your face gently. he moves your face to his direction, and he whispers, “pretty girl, you did so well, but you gotta wake up now.”

your face is limp in his hand, and his eyes grow frantic, “y/n?” he urges, “please say anything, yell or scold me even.”

he rubs his thumb across your cheek as he chuckles nervously, “love, I can feel your cursed energy. the prank you’re playing is a bit too much, no?”

“mister gojo,” one of the nurses calls out, “I think it’s from her.”

he looks up, and he sees your daughter in the nurse’s arms. she is wailing loudly, and—the nurse is right—she is emitting your cursed energy or remnants of it, he realizes now.

“mister gojo, you need to have skin-to-skin contact with your daughter,” she speaks softly, gently handing the little girl to him.

he takes her, wordlessly, and he mindlessly opens his chest to hug his daughter to it.

the nurses exit the room, and satoru is left to stare at you.

he sits on the bed, one arm holding your daughter and the other hand holding your face. he speaks up lowly with a small and quivering smile, “wifey, come on, wake up. our daughter is here.”

said girl lets out a small huff, and satoru finds himself biting his lip as he lays his forehead on your own.

“come on, y/n,” he begs, “she even looks exactly like you,” he pulls you closer, “you cant do this to me—please, not you too.”

GETO SUGURU:

the businessman sighs, “I won’t pay more than what I offered. geto. my words are final.”

“and who are you to be making orders? geto asks, resting his elbows on the desk, “I could kill you with the flick of a finger, so either you give me the two million yen—I know you can provide—monthly, or you can say goodbye to this life and empire you built.”

the man taps his palm and sighs, “I assume that we won’t be reaching the outcome I want?”

geto tilts his head with a smile, “come on, you still have the power of choice.”

the man stares at geto for a second before speaking up, “your wife is a lovely woman,” he grins, “too bad she has to depart so early.”

at the moment, for the first time since that incident, geto feels his heart drop to his stomach.

he jolts up, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him into the nearest wall, “what nonsense are you spouting?”

geto’s grip on the man’s throat quickly tightens.

the man is barely able to choke out his reply, “y—your dear sweetheart has been poisoned, since she went to your ‘usual’ café spot, and my men were there,” he grins manically, “better go and try to get your goodbyes, while you’re at it.”

your husband throws him on the floor and releases his most brutal curses to eat him. the man’s screams are ignored, as geto hurriedly runs to the café.

his heart beats violently against his chest. how did his curses not notice anything? how could he let you be in danger?

he slams the door open and yells out, “y/n?! y/n, do you hear me?!”

the café is empty, and the only person present there is you. the others having long fled.

you look so pained, letting out labored breaths and furrowing your eyebrows in discomfort. he kneels beside you and gathers you in his arms. he rises to his feet, but halts when you let out a pained shriek.

“I am sorry, honey, I know, just hold on,” he comforts. you shake your head and bury your face into his chest. he tightens his embrace on you and quickly starts running out.

“suguru, it hurts—moving hurts,” you cry, and it makes him kiss the top of your head firmly while nodding, trying to comfort both himself and you.

he thanks the heavens that he arrives at the estate, and he gently places you on the bed. he looks back at manami, “call all the healers and doctors, now!”

he looks down at you, and he grips your hand with it and presses it to his lips. he murmurs softly, “you will be okay; don’t worry,” he clutches your shirt.

he repeatedly apologizes and brings you fully into his arms. he watches your breathing slow down, and he feels your skin get colder. your expression starts to relax little by little.

it sends geto into a frenzy. he snaps, “where are the doctors?! why is no here yet?!”

manami runs inside and pants, “a-all the doctors have been k-killed.”

geto stops feeling the tips of his fingers, and he looks down at you. he starts breathing frantically, “then get anyone! anyone who knows about poison!” he cups your face and shakes you lightly, “y/n, please open your eyes.”

“suguru,” you say weakly, and he instantly lowers his head, so he can hear you better. you whisper softly, “I love you.”

he nods repeatedly, “and I love you too, so you have to stay awake, so we can say it again, yeah? come on, y/n.”

he moves your hair away from your face, his hands shaky as he falters, “can you say it again? one more time.”

your body stills in his arms, and he shudders, “just o-one more, y/n…” he closes his eyes, burying his face in your chest. your arms are limp, and he is left hugging your body.

everybody stays silent, and they watch geto not leave or loosen his hold on you.

he looks up slowly at manami and speaks lowly, “round up everyone that had an affiliation to that scum; those filthy monkeys will pay for what they have done.”

NANAMI KENTO:

nanami heaves a sigh of relief when he spots yuuji, “are you okay?”

the young boy nods frantically, and nanami looks around him then at yuuji again, “is y/n not with you? have you seen her? anywhere?”

yuuji shakes his head, regretfully, but nanami takes a deep breath, “it’s fine; let’s search for her together, okay?” he assures.

yuuji smiles and nods, determined, “yes!”

nanami barely manages a reassured nod of his own, his mind focused on finding you. in fact, he starts running, eyes quickly scanning each street and corner for any sight of you.

he clenches his jaw, remembering what you said before taking this mission.

“kento, I have a really bad feeling about this.”

he dismissed your worries and pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. he hummed softly, “I know, but we have to do it. if things go bad, then we have gojo present anyway.”

gojo is not present. shibuya is slowly turning into a city full of blood and corpses, both non-sorcerers’ and sorcerers’. he regrets not listening to you, but what else could’ve been done?

all he can do right now is find you and make sure you’re okay. that is his first and most important priority.

“nanamin, I found her!” yuuji screams excitedly, pointing at you who was busy thwarting off the myriad of curses charging at you. at the sight of you, nanami’s body relaxes, and he lets out a small smile.

you punch a curse back to a building, so you can finally turn to your husband.

“kento!” you grin and start running towards him. you throw yourself into his arms, and he—as always—catches you. he pulls you close and takes in your presence, burying his face into your hair.

he lets out a small breath.

“I am so glad you’re okay,” he says, but then he feels a strange wetness on his hand. he pulls away slowly and looks down at it. his eyes widen in alarm.

it’s covered in blood.

he looks up at you and mutters, “y/n, are you hurt? where are you hurt?”

“I—I don’t know,” you look up at him, “I can’t feel anything, k—kento; I don’t want to die,” you plead, and he quickly tears off a part of his suit to cover your wound and trying to stop the bleeding.

yuuji quickly goes to try and find shoko.

he hugs you closer, applying pressure to the wound, while pressing gentle kisses to your hair, “you…you won’t; don’t worry.”

you grip his shirt weakly and look up at your husband. you manage a small smile, “have I told you how handsome you are?”

he chuckles weakly, trying to stabilize his voice, “mhm, but I would like to hear you say it again tomorrow; can you do that?”

you nod slowly, “yeah…”

he stays silent for a second and grips you a bit tighter, “do you promise?”

your breathing starts slowing, “promise,” your body relaxes against his, and you feel his hand go to hold your own. he massages your ring finger and raises your hand to his lips.

you close your eyes with a smile, “I love you, ken.”

“I love you more,” he replies instantly. you stay still, and nanami embraces you with the entirety of his body, burying your face into his chest.

he clenches his jaw and whispers, “so much more.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

the king of curses dodges another attack with a full-blown smirk on his face. he swiftly turns and slashes the person till they drop into pieces. his chest heaves with excitement.

that is until he catches the smell of your blood.

he turns behind him, and he is greeted by a sight that he would usually take the time to relish in: a myriad of dead bodies, some piled on top of each other, and blood splattered and spilled everywhere.

he ignores of all that as his feet take him to where he senses your cursed energy.

he sees you standing in the middle of the bodies, and your stance is weak. you’re clutching your side, trying to stop the bleeding. he slowly walks towards to you and teases, “what happened? the queen got hurt?”

you let out a small chuckle, “shut up; it’s a minor injury, nothing worth noting.”

that is until the skin over your chest starts bubbling, and your heart explodes. the blood splashes all over him, and your body drops lifelessly to the floor.

sukuna’s eyes lock with your own blank ones, and he can’t process all the feelings he has.

his chest starts heaving particularly quickly, and his jaw clenches. he bends to his knees—something he never thought he would do—and raises your head towards his, searching for a glimpse of your cursed energy.

his eyes bore into your own as he speaks your name roughly.

“stop playing games, y/n!” he barked, shaking your head in his hand, but you grace him with no response.

“haha! I took out your dear wife; what will you do about it now, you monster?!”

sukuna eyes’ snap to where the voice came from.

he then decides that he will put that man through torture that is not even close to the amount of fury in his chest. sukuna is silent, as he gently lays your head down and walks towards the man.

the sorcerer’s smile starts crumbling, and he quickly falls on his back while trying to move away from sukuna.

“s-stay back, or I will kill you!” he attempts to threaten, but sukuna’s expression is blank. blank being a permanent furrowing of his eyebrows and his lips are pressed into a thin line.

the moment the sorcerer turns his back, trying to flee, sukuna cuts his feet.

sukuna doesn’t give him the chance to scream and wordlessly stomps on his back. little by little, he presses harder on the man under him.

he continues until he hears the cracking of bones and coughs full of blood. sukuna watches as the man tries to claw at his feet, in attempt to escape.

“I will make you suffer ten times over for what you have done.”

and it goes down in history as the biggest carnage sukuna has ever committed.

it didn’t stop at that man.

it extended to all the villages surrounding the vicinity. every sorcerer met a crueller death than the one before him. the single women were eaten, and the married ones were slaughtered.

no man was to enjoy what he was stripped of, and he would let the world remember your name along his through the passage of time, and he would make the temple he erected in your name stand tall forever.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will rat you out to my bestie

check out my buy me a coffee!

[whoskimii]

omg loved your gojo makeout piece could you please write one for yuuji

thank you baby!! of course, here you go :3

⋆౨ৎ˚ notes > yuuji x you. note that all characters are aged up!! steamy makeout sesh with your bf <33 tell me if i missed anything!! ^^ ౨ৎ warning : you may have butterflies in your belly while reading this!! 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

yuuji missed you. of course he did. how couldn't he ? between his missions and yours, you both got less time to spend with each other. as much as you hated it.

you knew you had no choice but to follow orders whenever your bubbly teacher would interrupt your little moment of peace to tell you that you had yet another mission. it was honestly tiring.

whenever you had a mission, yuuji had free time. and whenever yuuji had a mission, you had free time. it was like an endless cycle. the circle was just repeating itself, over and over again.

so when you both had free time at the same time, your heart leapt out of joy.

that also explained why you found yourself in your boyfriend's dorm. yuuji was on top of you, his hand buried in your baby pink panties as your pretty manicured fingers tangled in his disheveled strands.

he caressed your needy little clit with the pad of his middle finger as you whined sweetly against his lips. when he pulled his hand out of your underwear, he connected his finger with his thumb and slowly stretched the little sticky string of transparent fluid and watched shamelessly. he couldn't believe just how wet you were.

"shit," he cursed under his breath. "you get like this 'cause of me...? i'm a lucky bastard." he grinned lazily before his lips crashed onto yours. you hummed into the kiss and he smiled, his hand wrapping around your waist while the other grabbed a handful of your ass.

he sighed and rested his forehead against yours. his heart was beating like crazy and his cock was throbbing in his pants. to relieve himself, he began grinding against you. he sneaked a hand around your thigh and hooked it over his hip to pull you impossibly closer. "i need you, yuuji..." you mumbled.

he absolutely loved the way you said his name. it would always roll off your tongue like honey. he didn't care about the circumstances— the way you called out his name, the way you breathed it and moaned it, it would always make him shiver.

"yeah, i know... i know, i need you too, baby..." he breathed. he wished he could just fill you up right there and then but he feared that megumi would complain in the morning. again. poor baby didn't sleep much when you were around :( "i promise, sweet girl... i'll take care of you... wanna stuff you nice and full but we aren't alone..."

at your little disappointed whine, he sighed. his heart almost ached. "i know, baby, i know... s'fine. i'm still gonna take care of you." you bit on your bottom lip as he pressed the tip of his finger against your sloppy entrance. "gotta be quiet, cupcake." he slowly slid his digit inside you, all the while covering your mouth with his hand.

as his finger finally bottomed out, he hummed approvingly. "aaaand... s'all the way in, baby." he pushed it in and out lazily, watching your pretty eyes flutter close. "feels nice, huh ? yeah..." he chuckled. "bet it makes you feel all warm and tingly inside."

as you clenched around his digit, he sighed. he just wished that he could bury himself between your legs right now but if the sleep of his grumpy friend was disturbed, yuuji would never see the end of it.

he hummed. "c'mon, baby. don't take too long, okay ? i wanna get spoiled too." you whined. "yuuji..."

"yeah ? somethin' you wanna say, sweetie ?" he asked cockily. "wanna cum..." you mumbled. "i know." he finally found your sweet spot and it only took you a few other thrusts to come. "aw, you came ? already ? shit, i can't believe it." he slowly pulled out his digit, which was now coated in your sweet essence. "mind if i get a taste, baby ?"

you would never deny him his favorite drink, would you ?

yuuji is such a sweetheart like???

⋆˚࿔ kimi 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[fandoms-writings]

Now or Never

Pairing: Best-Friend!Bucky x Virgin!Reader (fem intended)

Word Count: 6.2K (it was supposed to be a drabble oops)

Summary: Based off the prompts "You know my door is always open for you, right?" and "You're already wet sweetheart." for my milestone event, requested by nonnie.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, mentions of a bad date, explicit p in v sex, oral (male receiving), fingering, swearing, bucky talks a lot in bed, weed and alcohol consumption. (if I missed any, please let me know)

A/N: thank you so so much to @bucksangel and @itistimeforusalltodecidewhoweare for beta reading for me, i love you both so so much.

Masterpost || Bucky Masterlist

You sat in your car, frustration and disappointment rolling off of you in waves. 

Another bad date, another guy just obsessed with hearing himself talk and not once allowing you to get a word in. That topped with how he called you a prude at the end left the worst taste in your mouth. 

You didn't want to go home to your empty apartment, already sick of the silence filling your car, so you scrolled through your contacts, thinking who would be up for hanging out with so little notice. 

Your lip found its way between your teeth as you passed your best friend's name. You weren't sure if he'd be busy or not, or if he'd be in the mood to hang out, but seeing him would help your mood. Plus. . . you blanched at the image that clouded your mind. Maybe he could help with your little problem - if you had the guts to even ask. 

You pressed the dial button before you could talk yourself out of it, waiting for him to pick up as you chewed on your nail.

Just when you were about to hang up, giving up for the night, the tone clicked and his voice filtered through the speaker. 

"Hey Peach," His voice was gruff and you could feel some of your frustration ebbing away already, "What's going on?" 

"Hey, Buck," You sighed, "Are you busy?" 

"Not currently, why?" 

"Can I come over for a minute?"

"Aren't you supposed to be on a date?" He chuckled. You could hear him shuffling through what you assumed was his kitchen, the opening and closing of cupboards sounding through the little speaker. 

"I was." You didn't give him anymore than that, and he was only silent for a small moment before he hummed. 

"Alright, get your cute butt over here so you can tell me all about it," He ordered and you couldn't help the heat that grew in your skin at the compliment. "Want me to pack a bowl too?" 

You giggled at that before agreeing. "After today, please. I'll pay you back for it." 

"How many times do I gotta tell you not to worry about that?" He laughed, "Now get over here. Drive safe." 

"I will." You hung up the phone with a sigh before starting your car and heading over to his place, but not before stopping and picking up a bottle of wine on the way. 

It wasn't long before you were hiking up the steps to the house he rented. It was small, and not in the best neighborhood, but he didn't have to worry about sharing walls with anyone else and it was bigger than your apartment, so you didn't mind. Plus, you knew he'd never let anything happen to you. 

He pulled open the door before you had a chance to knock, giving you a grin that was equally empathetic as it was smug. He liked to relish in the fact that he always knew guys weren't going to be good enough for you, telling you before every date you went on that it'd be a waste of time. 

But that didn't mean that he was happy you weren't having a good time. 

"Come on," He reached his hand out for you, "Let's get you giggly again." 

You chuckled at that before landing the bottle of wine in his outstretched hand, the raise of his eye brows pulling up the corners of your lips. 

"Super giggly is the goal then." He stepped away from the door, letting you in before closing and locking it behind you. 

"You sure you don't mind me dropping by this late?" 

He scoffed at that, leading the way to his kitchen and pulling out two wine glasses, "You know my door is always open for you, right?"

You shrugged, "I know that, but still, you can always tell me no." 

"Now, Peach, why would I do that? I'm not going to say no to hanging out with my favorite person." Heat spread through your skin again at his words, and the teasing wink he threw your way. 

You didn't mind that he flirted with you, whether flirting was his intention or not, you weren't quite sure. But either way, it made you feel somewhat seen. Liked. 

"I thought Steve was your favorite person," You lifted yourself onto his countertop, hissing at the cold that met your thighs. You cursed the version of yourself that decided shorts were a good idea.  "It'd be a shame if he heard that wasn't true." 

"He knows where he stands with me, don't worry." He handed you a poured glass, clinking his own against it before leaning against the opposite counter. "Now, do you want to tell me what happened now, or do you want to smoke first?" 

You chuckled at that, taking a sip of your wine, "How about I tell you while we smoke, then by the time we're good and high, I don't have to think about it anymore?" 

He gave you one of his little grins, nodding his head. "You got it." 

You followed him outside, getting comfortable in the large papasan chair as he plugged in the string of lights hung over the small porch. He got comfortable in his seat before offering you the bong and a lighter, letting you take the first drag. 

It didn't take long to fill Bucky in on what had transpired on your date. How Mark didn't even try to act interested in anything you had to say. How he'd made you meet him at the restaurant instead of offering to pick you up, which in the end ended up being a silver lining because you didn't have to ask him to drive you home. 

You'd gotten to the part where your date had called you a prude and what you'd told him to cause that comment, and the words caught in your throat. You'd never told Bucky you were a virgin, not that it mattered, you knew he wouldn't judge you for it. It was just something that never came up. 

Maybe it was what happened tonight, the comments and the way your date acted afterwards, that made you not want to tell him. Or maybe it was the pity in his eyes that had grown since you'd started your story. Or. . . or it could've been the rather not small bit of your heart that belonged to him already that stopped you. If others didn't like that you were a virgin in your twenties, and didn't want to be with someone so inexperienced, why would he?

He caught on to your hesitation, setting the bong down as he turned to face you with his brows pulled forward. 

"What happened?" He asked, and you looked to your lap, pulling your feet under you and wrapping your sweater around you. 

You could tell him, you knew he wouldn't judge you, wouldn't tease you for it. You knew that, so why was it so hard to tell him when you told anyone else without a care in the world? You sighed, barely meeting his gaze. 

"Promise me you won't judge me?" You whispered and he leaned forward. 

"I'd never judge you for anything. I promise." 

You nodded, more to yourself in reassurance to let the words out. "The only thing he either heard me say about myself, or that he decided to pay attention to, was the fact that I'm a virgin," You refused to meet Bucky's gaze as he went still, "That seemed to get his attention because then he started assuming I was going home with him after he pretty much ignored me all night. Like I was some prize to be won. A trophy."

You took a breath taking a small glance at Bucky to see his eyes trained on your face, but no emotion peaking through his features other than his fists clenched in his lap, knuckles white. 

"When I told him I was just gonna go home, his attitude shifted again and he proceeded to call me a selfish prude." The words rang in your head again, his mocking tone clear in your ears before you forced yourself to push it out. 

Bucky still hadn't said anything, his red eyes locked on your form, tucked into your chair as you reached for your wine glass. It wasn't until you'd taken a lengthy sip and had the cup nestled in your hands in your lap that he spoke up. 

"You deserve better than that," He started, "And I'm sorry that he treated you like that, Peach." 

Looking over to him, you saw the sincerity in his eyes, the heaviness in them as he refused to look away. You shrugged mumbling that it's fine before looking down to your wine glass again. "I don't really want to dwell on it." 

"Okay," He angled his head to catch your eye, giving you a soft smile. "You just let me know when you want me to kick this guy's ass and consider it done." 

You laughed at that, clutching your glass in your lap so it didn't fall. He smirked at you, seemingly pleased with himself for getting you to laugh as he leaned back in his chair. 

"Can I ask you something?" He asked after a moment. 

Your focus zeroed in on him, his arm thrown over the curved back of his chair, one of his legs folded under the other, his free hand resting on his thigh as he studied you. You swallowed around the dryness in your mouth and nodded. 

"Is there a. . .  specific reason you're still a virgin?" He asked. You could tell he wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable, he was genuinely curious. 

"I guess I was scared at first," You started, remembering how you felt in high school when your best friend told you about how she'd lost her virginity. The idea always seemed daunting, like it was something you were supposed to do to 'become an adult.' But it was intimidating. "I didn't want to force it, wanted it to be something natural, I guess." 

"And you haven't had anyone to give you that chance?" 

You stilled for a second, shaking your head. 

He hummed, at your silence, or your answer, you couldn't tell, but he fell quiet after that, staring at the trees in the yard. 

You finished your glass of wine and set it aside, you fingers beginning to slightly numb in the cold before you tucked them into your legs, your mind starting to get fuzzy. You couldn't tell if it was the wine or the weed starting to kick in that made you ask, "Is it a bad thing?" 

He whipped his head towards you, his brows pulled together in confusion. "Being a virgin?" At your tentative nod, his face softened and he shook his head, "Not at all." 

"Then why do people act like the guy tonight whenever they find out?" You muttered and he sighed, shifting so that he was leaning his elbows on his knees. 

"Maybe it's intimidating, being someone's first." 

Your eyes refused to leave his, your nerves starting to warm as you asked, "What about you?" You asked, readjusting in your seat to angle yourself more towards him, "Would you be intimidated?" 

He simply stared at you for a moment before shaking his head, "No." There was something about the way he said it, the roughness of his voice and the confidence in his short answer, that had you trying to subtly clench your thighs together. 

You hated to admit it, but you'd thought about it before. Hell, you thought about it on the way over.  About sleeping with him. About his rough hands on your skin, what it would feel like to have his lips on yours, his fingers in -

"You okay?" His voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked back to him, heat rising up the back of your neck. You went to tell him you were fine, that you just wanted to get a drink, maybe watch a movie, but a voice in the back of your head grew too loud to ignore. "Peach?" 

The voice told you to ask him for it. To ask him to be your first. You trusted him with your life, you'd trust him with taking your virginity too. You know you would. But you couldn't ask that. What if he said no? What if he was mortified? It wasn't something you could just tell him to pretend you didn't ask for, that's not how that worked. 

He was still staring at you, allowing you to have as long as you needed before you told him whatever it was that was going through your head. 

Now or never, the voice reminded you, and you took a breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable rejection you felt you knew he was going to give you. 

"I'm over it," You muttered, and before he could ask what you were talking about, "I don't want to be a virgin anymore." He watched you, unsure if you were finished speaking yet, but when the words died on your tongue, he nodded. 

"Okay," His voice was rough and hoarse and dangerously quiet as he waited to hear what you wanted to do about what you'd said. 

"I trust you," You whispered, "More than anyone." His eyes widened just a fraction as you stared at him. Your hands gripped your legs as you mustered up just enough courage to get the words out, "Would. . . would you be my first?" 

 The confusion fell from his face, concern taking its place. He cleared his throat and his voice was dangerously low, “Is this the wine talking?” 

Your heart fell, you knew you shouldn’t have asked. You knew. Yet you asked anyway. You let out a shaky breath, moving to stand. “I shouldn’t have asked, forget about it.” You stood, moving to pick up what needed to go inside when his hand grasped yours. 

“That’s not. . .” He started and you turned to him,  he was on the edge of his seat, eyes wide as he stared up at you, “I mean is that something you truly want? It’s not just the wine?”

You took a moment to look at him, to really look. You’ve held his stare so many times before, but you’d never seen the look in his eyes that was there now. Like it was taking everything in him not to jump up and do what you’d asked. 

Like he — like he wanted it just as much as you did. 

You faced him completely, placing yourself between his knees and resting your hands on his shoulders, his hands falling to wrap around the backs of your thighs. 

“I just don’t want you to regret asking me,” he muttered, his fingers drawing patterns across the backs of your legs, “I don’t want you regretting me.” 

Your hands settled at the sides of his neck, the stubble on his chin scraping against your thumbs as you pushed to angle his head up to you again. You leaned down, your nose brushing against his as your breaths mingled between you. 

“Bucky. . . " You started, but he shook his head. 

"Wait," It was a gasp, like he was fighting himself, "You need to know that if you let me have you," he looked up at you and you were finally able to see how his pupils had blown, the blue of his eyes almost completely swallowed, "I don't plan on letting you go. Ever." 

Your body froze in his hold, his fingers tightening on your legs. "What are you saying?" 

His eyes softened on you and a small, nervous smile grew on his lips, "That I've wanted you since we met, but didn't want to scare you off." He tugged on your legs, pulling you into his lap, your knees landing on either side of his hips. His hands moved up to your lower back, his thumbs barely moving under your shirt, but stopping before he went any further. "I've been pining after you for years." 

It was like you were snapped back to reality, the raspiness in his voice and his calloused fingers brushing against your skin bringing you back from your stupor. But there were no words to convey how you felt, at least not any you could form at the moment. The only thing your brain and your heart were telling you, was to press your lips against his. 

So you did.

His fingers tightened against your back, pressing you into his chest as his lips moved in tandem with yours. It was slow at first, the soft nips to your bottom lip and the way his tongue hesitantly slid across your bottom lip. Your lips parted and the second your tongue met his, a groan rumbled through his chest, his hands sliding up your back under your shirt. Your hips ground down of their own accord and he swallowed the whine you let out as your core was met with the growing bulge under his jeans. 

Time seemed to slow, and by the time you pulled back panting, eyes locked on his, you weren't sure how long you'd been there. But by the way your heart was soaring, you knew you didn't want to be anywhere else, ever again. 

"We should go inside," he whispered, bringing up one of his hands to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing against your swollen lips. "I don't want the neighbors hearing you." 

~~~

You two didn't last long apart once you pried yourself from his lap. The second you both set everything on the counter inside, his hands found their way to your skin again, pushing up the back of your shirt as he pulled you flush with his chest, his feet guiding you to his bedroom. 

The edge of his bed met the backs of your knees, and he gently pushed you back, crawling up with you as you nudged your way up to his pillows. His lips attached to your neck, gently biting where it met your shoulder, his breath fanning against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. 

"I'll take good care of you," He breathed, pulling back to look at you, "I promise." 

You nodded, reaching around to shove his shirt up his back, "I know, I trust you." He smiled at you before pushing your shirt up, over your head and your arms. and dropping his head and dragging his lips across every inch of skin he could reach. 

 "Arch your back for me?" He asked, only lifting his lips enough to get the words out before they went back to nipping at your skin. You did as he asked, his fingers slipping through the clasp on your bra and undoing it. He helped you out of it, sitting up to pull it up from your arms and throwing it to the side to join your shirt. 

You looked up to find his eyes locked on you and you couldn't help the sudden nervousness rise in your chest as he stared at you. His hands caught your arms trying to move to cover your breasts and he shook his head. 

"Don't hide," He said, "You're fucking gorgeous." 

You giggled, the butterflies in your stomach from his words mixed with the substances in your system making it impossible to fight it off and he smiled down at you. 

"There she is," He whispered, "God, I love your laugh." 

"Heavy with the compliments tonight aren't you?" You breathily asked, the heat in your skin rising as he removed his shirt, his muscled chest seemingly glowing in the warm hue of the lights. 

"I've been waiting to give you some very specific compliments," He leaned over you, "So you better get used to it." 

His lips captured yours again as his hands trailed down your stomach, his fingers gently pushing at the waistband of your shorts. 

"Can I?" He asked, his fingers stopping. 

"Please." 

He chuckled at the eagerness in your voice before he pulled away and helped you out of your shorts, pulling your panties with them. He dragged his fingers down your hips and your thighs as he took you in. You could see his chest rising and falling at an uneven pace before he looked up at you. 

"You're already wet sweetheart," He rasped, "Can I play with you?" 

The fact that you were bare before him and he was still asking for permission sent even more heat to your core and you could feel yourself clench around nothing as your breath hitched in your throat. You nodded sitting up on your elbows to meet his lowering mouth with your own, earning a moan from him as you dragged your teeth along his bottom lip. 

His fingers were sure in their movements as they met your folds, brushing up to circle around your clit before sliding back down to circle around your entrance, your hips bucking into his touch. He pulled his mouth away as he slowly slid a finger in, pressing the palm of his hand down into your clit. 

"Oh I love this," He said, his head dropping down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, lightly dragging his teeth across it before swirling his tongue around it. He pumped his finger a few times before slowly adding a second, and growling into your skin as your fingers threaded through his hair, pulling at the strands, his fingers curling up, like he was searching for something. 

"What?" It came out as a breath, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak any louder as you tried to keep the noises that built in your chest to a minimum. You knew they were normal, but you didn't want to seem as desperate as you really felt. 

"I love that no one else has had the pleasure of seeing you like this, that no one has touched you," He said the words into your skin, his lips brushing against your nipple as he spoke and grinning when his fingers brushed against a certain spot. 

"Shit - Do that again," the request broke through your lips in a whine, but you were too focused on him to notice. He grinned, curling his fingers into that spot again, pulling another wail from your throat. 

 "I love that no one's been inside you, that they don't get to have you," He angled his fingers to brush against that spongy spot over and over as he pumped them in and out, "But I do." 

He kept his fingers pace agonizingly slow, to not drive you over the edge so quickly but you couldn't help the movement of your hips trying to get more friction. His other hand came up to your chest, gently pushing you down so you were comfortable. 

"I'll go slow at first," He started, his fingers slowing even more, if that was possible, "Let you get used to it - to me, before I ruin you," His fingers began to spread, pushing your walls apart as they dragged across them before coming to a halt. "Do you know the traffic light system?" He asked, and at your nod he grinned, "Tell me." 

You swallowed around the breath catching in your throat, "Red is stop, green is go, yellow is slow down." His smile grew. 

"Perfect, I don't want to do anything you're not comfortable with, so you use that if you need to, alright?" When you nodded, he went back to pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt, noticing you practically biting through your lip to keep quiet and he tsked, his free hand moving to pull it from your teeth, "Let me hear you, Peach." 

The second you let your lip go, a lewd moan filled the air. You went to bite your lip again, to hide the noises that were waiting to get out, and Bucky shook his head as his thumb found its way to your tongue, softly pressing down to keep your mouth open. 

"Don't hide those noises from me," He practically begged, "I need to hear you." It was the tone of desperation that took over his calm confidence that had you nodding, promising not to hide anymore. "Is there anything you want to do?"

"What do you mean?" You breathed, trying to hone your focus on him. 

"Well, it's your first time," He started, pushing his fingers as far as he could and smiling at the moan you let out, "Was there anything you wanted to try?" 

You thought back to the times you shamefully allowed yourself to fantasize about him. How he'd feel on top of you, in you. How his hips would feel driving into yours, the fullness you'd finally experience. How the weight of him would feel against your tongue. 

You felt your skin get hot as you looked up at him, trying not to cover yourself with how self conscious you suddenly felt. But when your eyes met his, all you saw was patience and adoration as he watched you, so you swallowed down your nerves. 

"I want to taste you," You muttered and he groaned, his fingers stilling in you, "and ride you." 

"Shit," He smiled at you, "You're really not that innocent are you?" 

He pulled his fingers free of you before you could answer, and you whined at the now empty feeling in between your legs, a whine that dragged on longer as you watched him lift his fingers to his mouth. His eyes rolled back and he moaned as he tasted you. 

"Fuck," he groaned, "I knew you'd taste good." 

He pulled his body up from yours, ridding himself of the last of his clothes, and you couldn't help but look down, eyeing the length of his cock as it stood at attention. Unable to stop yourself from reaching out, your fingers brushed against the underside and the shiver that clearly ran up Bucky's spine gave you a boost of confidence. 

You crawled across the bed to where he stood at the end, fighting the nerves that were tingling through every part of you as you slid to the floor in front of him. The carpet dug into your knees as you kneeled, looking up at him through your lashes. His hand came down to trace your cheek before cupping it. 

"You don't have to if you don't want to," He said and you smiled. 

"I know, I want to." You eyed him before moving your hand to grip him at the base, holding him still while you dragged your tongue up the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around the head, the taste of his skin and the precum leaking from the tip flooding your tongue. 

"Oh, fuck," He gasped and his hips stuttered, pushing himself past your lips just a bit before he caught himself and pulled back. "Shit - sorry."

Instead of pulling your mouth off of him, you looked up at him and hummed before taking him further, watching his eyes flutter closed and roll back as your tongue slid along his length. His fingers twitched at his sides like they were reaching for you but he was fighting himself. You reached up with your free hand and pulled his grasping fingers towards the top of your head where they hesitantly laced into your hair. 

He breathed a heavy sigh as he gently tugged on your hair, the whine you let out around him causing his hips to jolt again. 

"Fuck, Peach," He rasped, his voice hoarse as he looked down at you. The sound of his voice and the way he looked at you alone was enough to have you clenching around nothing, but what he said next was what got to your head, sending you into a type of haze you'd never experienced before. "Unless you want me to fuck your pretty face, you gotta stop doing that." 

 Your free hand reached around his thigh, gripping it as you hummed again, the vibrations clearly running through every one of Bucky's nerves as he shuddered. 

"Is that what you want?" He asked, a cocky grin growing on his lips as he looked down at you, your head bobbing, "You want me to fuck your pretty mouth before I fuck that pretty pussy?" 

A high pitched whine rumbled in your throat and his hips bucked forward, his hand in your hair pulling your head forward. He was gentle with it, only pushing himself so far back in your mouth, doing his best not to make you gag, all the while a string of curses and compliments showered you as your eyes watered and a mix of your spit and his precum had started to slide down your chin. 

He pulled your head back, pulling himself from your mouth, the stiffness in your jaw a welcome sensation when accompanied by the heavy look in his eyes. He took your hand in his, helping you move back to the bed and settling in between your legs as he kissed his way down the side of your neck, his hand wrapping around the other side. His teeth grazed your skin, sending chills through your spine as you reached around to grip at his back. 

Pulling his head from your neck, his voice just above a whisper as he asked, "Are you ready?" You nodded, but he shook his head, "I need to hear you say it, baby, you gotta tell me." A bloom of warmth spread through your chest at the care exuding from the furrow in his brows. 

You wrapped your hands around the sides of his head, your thumbs brushing along the lines of his jaw, "Fuck me, Bucky," You whispered, "please." He nodded before capturing your mouth with his once before sitting up a bit and reaching over to his nightstand, his hand coming back with a condom and a small bottle of what you assumed was lube. 

Once he had the condom on, he popped open the cap of the lube, pouring some in his hand and spreading it over himself, then getting a bit more and looking at you. "It's a little cold, but it's gonna help, I promise." 

"Okay," You nodded and braced yourself for the chill that came when his fingers rubbed the lube through your folds, your skin sensitive to his calloused skin. 

"Spread your legs baby," he watched your legs open for him, "that's it. . . wider." Your legs spread as far as you could, "Such a good girl all spread out for me." He smiled before lining the head of his cock up with your dripping entrance, slowly pushing in with a hiss. 

The stretch burned and your hands shot to cling to his arms, your nails leaving crescent shaped indents in his skin. His eyes locked with yours, "Breathe baby, breathe," He strained, "I'm right here." You let loose a tight breath through your nose as you held his gaze. He kept pushing in, taking his time until he was all the way in, a strange type of fullness taking over you - an addicting kind. 

He dragged his fingers across your skin, kneading the muscles in your hips, legs, and arms as he waited for you to adjust, talking you through it with a whole array of compliments. When the burn from the stretch turned into a need for him to move, you shifted your hips and loosed a moan when the head of his cock brushed against that same spot his fingers had expertly found earlier. 

A breathy chuckle fanned your skin as he smiled down at you, "Ready for me to move?" At your quiet confirmation, he began slowly rocking his hips into yours, the drag of his cock against your walls addicting - but you needed more. 

"M-more. . ." you panted and he smirked. 

"More what?" He asked, not stopping the slow drag movements of his hips as if he knew it was driving you mad, which he probably did if you were being honest. 

You swallowed your nerves, "Faster," he brushed that spot again, "fuck - harder." 

He nodded, moving his hands to the back of each of your knees, holding your legs open, "Can I have my way with you? You can ride me later?" You forgot about that, about saying you wanted to ride him. You did, you wanted him under you writhing for you like you were for him now, but you weren't sure you could handle taking over right now so you nodded. You just wanted him to make you feel good and to fucking move already. 

"Yes," You whined, trying to move your hips against his again, but with how he was holding your legs, you couldn't move much. "Just move." You didn't care how desperate you sounded now, you were going to go insane if he didn't do something other than slowly drag himself in and out, stopping just before hitting that perfect spot. 

"Say please." You scowled at him. Sometimes you forgot how cocky he could get, though this was the first time his cockiness made you even more needy for him. 

"Fuck," You muttered, the pressure growing low in your belly, "please Bucky."

"I got you," He pushed you knees closer to your chest as he leaned over you, thrusting into the base, hitting that spot that made you see stars before pulling out just as quick and doing it again. 

It felt like the air had been sucked out of your chest as you held his gaze, his hips unrelenting in his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping filling your ears in between the moans that fell from both of you. 

"God," He panted, "You feel so good around me, I always knew you would." He dropped one of your legs, reaching up to palm your breast and taking the pebbled nipple in between his fingers, "Fuckin' made for me, weren't you?" 

A loud moan tore its way through your throat as you reached for him, your hand finding his neck, nails raking down to the middle of his chest, his hips driving home even harder. You could feel that somewhat familiar crest quickly approaching, knowing the feeling from your nights alone where all you had were your fingers. But you didn't want this to end. You wanted to stay here, his cock filling you up and hitting that one spot over and over. 

Something in your face, or maybe it was the way your breathing became more controlled, told Bucky that you were trying to fight it off as long as you could and he smirked before slowing down just enough to let your knees go and tell you, "Wrap your legs around my waist." 

You quickly followed his instruction as he leaned over you, grabbing the headboard with one hand and circling your clit with the thumb of his other. You couldn't hold back the almost scream that erupted from your chest at the sensation and he smiled. 

"Don't fight it, baby," He coaxed, "Just let it happen." He quickened the pace of both his hips and his thumb, trying to push you over that edge. "C'mon, Peach," he was practically begging now, "Let me have it."

The thread holding you back was fraying quickly, ready to snap and he knew it. 

Your breath hitched and he smirked, still keeping his pace as he muttered, "Give it to me." 

The thread snapped. Pleasure crashed into you, a roaring in your ears as your body tightened under his, your walls clenching around him as he continued his determined thrusts. Your hands grasped at his back, your nails raking down his skin. Your legs locked around him. 

You were sure you screamed. 

"That's it, baby," He panted into your ear, his hips becoming sporadic, "Keep coming - fuck - keep gripping me like that." You weren't sure how exactly to do what he was asking, but in your daze, you did your best, tightening your muscles as much as you could. 

He gasped, gripping your hip tight enough to bruise you were sure. His hips stilled and his head buried into your neck as he shouted. 

He gently rested his weight on you, pushing you into the mattress and trailing small kisses along your neck and shoulder where his head still rested. He waited until you'd caught your breath and your eyes were clear before speaking again. 

"Are. . . are you alright?" He asked, worry replacing the pleasure that had been on his face just moments ago. 

You gave him a dizzy smile, nodding, "I'm perfect." 

A large smile grew on his face as he chuckled, his hand raising to cup your chin, pulling himself forward to gently press his lips to yours. "Good," he muttered against your lips, "You make such a cute face when you cum, did you know that?" 

You felt your skin heat as you tried to shove his now laughing face away from you. "Shut up!"

"What?!" He roared, "It's true!" He grabbed your hands in his, pinning them above you. He was still smiling as he looked down at you, his pupils still blown wide, "I wanna see you make it again." 

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[court-jobi]

Kissproof

((Banner by me!! I don't own Horikoshi's work/characters))

Pairing: Todoroki x reader (fem!reader)

Words: 3.3k

Rating: G~

Warnings: Behold the FLUFF, soft Todoroki hours, est. relationship, slice of life, light jealousy, getting ready together, assurance, non-sexual intimacy, this is not 'touch her you die'-- this is 'touch her and ill stare at you till you do the right thing'

Summary:

Having grown up around a sister, Shoto Todoroki held no resentment about seeing you mull about hogging the mirror. On the contrary, he’d always found the care and details girls would put into their appearances to be remarkable. To be the one watching and sharing these intimate routines with you is something he treasures-- if only he could always keep you to himself like this… not always possible in a room chock-full of heroes with wandering eyes.

A/N: my first attempt at a todoroki fic? because he's so gentle and deserves everything wonderful?? This feels so different than my recent Bakugou works, and I love the change of pace. Hope yall like it too!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Having grown up around a sister, Shoto Todoroki held no resentment about seeing you mull about hogging the mirror. On the contrary, he’d always found the care and details girls would put into their appearances to be remarkable: a personal touch that adorned what beautiful foundation was already there.

The way the makeup artists would enhance his fellow heroes at press photoshoots should be hailed as art. He didn't see why makeup brushes were marketed any differently than those belonging to a painter. Industry-performing nonsense, he supposed. 

When you finally got a spare moment to yourself in this hotel suite in Kobe getting ready for dinner,  your circle of best girlfriends -brought into your life by his introduction- were deciding on dresses when Todoroki came over through the open conjoining room unnoticed, looking for you.

You’re still robed up post-shower and kept calling out answers to Kirishima and Midoriya on what to wear across the room. Bakugou had even swallowed his pride enough to ask you to get the ‘shitty cufflinks’ on his ‘shitty jacket’ right because his ‘shitty fingers’ couldn’t quite manage it. You’d become something of an invaluable resource by nature- maternal instincts seep from you so easily- but unfortunately have put you in last place in terms of getting ready.

As Todoroki entered your space, you were mid makeup; eyes almost done, but before lips or anything else past your light moisturizer. You caught his eye a bit embarrassed.

"Uh--hey, hon’~" you greet with complete fondness, despite his quiet intrusion.

With a small word of greeting back, he took a mental picture of this serene state of you. Something he can remember when he’s past the point of exhaustion on hour ten of patrol, and needs a lifeline. 

Unphased by the sight of piles of toiletry bags and finishing tools galore, he took a seat along the edge of the high-walled tub, pulling out his phone for a second while you processedwhat he was doing: making himself comfortable.

"Sorry, did you need the- um?"

He looked back up at you, gesturing limply towards the toilet, but he dismisses that suggestion. Certainly wasn't in line or anything for that; only for you. 

"No,” Todoroki dismissed calmly, “ just wondered if they were finally letting you be.”

You appeared pleased at his reasoning, jutting your hair back over your shoulder as he sat there smiling a bit in admiration. Phone’s properly set to silent now; nothing to interrupt the nice lofi streaming from your phone’s tiny speaker.

"I'll be done in a sec, it doesn’t take me too long. Just gotta, y'know- 'doll myself up'. Got a lot of heads to turn here tonight.”

Todoroki glares at you in a silly deadpan. "You're lovely in the company of one as you are in a hundred, but if more makes you happy, do whatever you'd like."

You turned back to the mirror to carry on, in view to catch him looking over at you every now again in the reflection. Your effortless flair for polishing was a thing to witness firsthand. He was hardly bored, watching you; as entertained as can be rather than begging ‘are you done yet’ through tired stares. 

"Guess you're really not one of those ‘no makeup’ guys,” you chime from the vanity. 

"Hm?" Todoroki livens up as you engage with him after a long stretch of silence. 

"Most boys have pretty strong opinions about girls in full face. Like, ‘you really shouldn’t wear so much’. Or on the flip side, like ‘ooooo she's gotta wear red’ or ‘make sure it matches the nails’ or how it takes too long..."

From your poised exterior, Todoroki finds your swirling stream of consciousness a funny contrast when you let him in on your thought process.

With a patient smirk, he merely tilts his head at you, “Did you ask for my opinion?”

You’re torn for a minute- clear that you're worried about offending him and quick to respond,

“--Not that I'd hate it~ but I don't think so, no,” you answer.

“Because it doesn’t matter,” Todoroki answers you comfortably. “It’s your hobby, sweetheart. You should enjoy it for you.”

Your freshly finished eyes crinkle at him, “Just don’t want you bored out of your mind over there, not even having a say.”

"Do you mind my being here?"

Peaceably, you keep his stare. "No, not at all."

"Then don’t worry about what I think. You like doing it, I get the time with you, so you can take as long as you’d like."

Capping the mascara, you double tap your phone to illuminate it, “We’re good on time, right?”

Confident in a companionable sort of way, Todoroki defends that however much time you need, you’ll get. He’d give you the moon if he could.

“Time’s yours. No rush.”

It’s the truth; Todoroki benefits from either state of you– whether it's brushed on or not, he gets the chance to soak in your beauty as you allow him to. The intimacy of these lovely feminine practices is what appeals to him anyway. It could be watching you dole out your extensive skincare or something as simple as handing you your prized chapstick when it’s cold; Todoroki just loves watching you tend to yourself– and letting him in on the secrets.

He allowed his head to rest on the wall as he watched you put highlighter and a deep lip color on that complemented your dress of choice. Then as you brought some hair up to see the whole finished look, it’s only at this stage that he piped up again.

"What color is your dress?"

You turned a bit to the open entryway closet, where your roommates all sufficiently moved in and prepped for the weekend’s events. A mix of hero garb and formalwear lined the maxxed out closet.

"It's that black sleeveless one in there, if you don’t mind grabbing it?" 

As you were now in the middle of putting on an earring, Todoroki passed behind you to do just that. 

He came back with the hotel’s branded hangar, and you pulled it up to pet the fabric in appreciation.

"I like it cuz it’s super soft on the inside. No pockets though," you made a teasing whisper mocking where the inert should be. Todoroki rolled his eyes playfully.

"You women and your pockets."

"They're all designed by men who don't understand! You know that, right?"

"Are you going to keep complaining, or put it on?"

You turned with a little sway, "Ahhh, now I see why I have an audience..."

Todoroki suddenly found an ounce of shame and shy, contrasting eyes, and he stamped on an apology to not appear so hungry, "U-um, sorry. I'll uh–,"

You dismissed his gentlemanly move to exit– and tugged him forward instead. You leaned in close to his ear, 

"I'll be right out. Don't go far– I’ll need you."

Not a minute later, you met the room with half the girls fiddling over Iida’s suit and half over Midoriya’s finishing touches when Mina squealed your return:

"OH YES, BABE! This is IT!!"

Eyes all shot to you in your final reveal. You gave the little model leg stance under the attention, highlighting the leg slit and jeweled accent down the leg. The move made poor ‘Deku’ choke at the sight, and Kirishima froze all coherent thought for a split second (as he did for just about all his friends). 

Todoroki turned around from his view by the window to meet your expectant eye. Despite having seen every bit of your outfit come together, he completed a full check out on you and didn't hide his smirk well.

"Oh my God, Todoroki, you’re ogling– quit that!!" Hagakure chided.

"Not until she quits that."

His admiration of you held no shame whatsoever– which you accepted a long time ago.

"I'll -erm- just say you look great, chief! Not anything else, man!!" Kirishima was quick to appease Todoroki’s acute glare at the enthusiasm for you, his coworker. Kirishima would ordinarily argue you were his work wife, but not in front of ‘Icyhot’.

"Thanks hunny," You smiled innocently enough,but ultimately joined Todoroki’s warm side.

He outstretched an arm out to pull you in, only to notice you twirl around to him to show where you did need his help after all. Pinned down by your precariously positioned hand behind your back, Todoroki could now see you needed zipped up.

A caring touch was needed, and his heart softened unfairly with the insinuation that you wanted his touch to be the one to do it. By your expectant look over your shoulder, it’s sweetly implied that you’d never consider anyone else for the job.

Once done, your turning back around allowed you the space to straighten out his lapel more affectionately– he didn’t see what about this was particularly endearing, but your pampering gesture brings a swoon from all the women in the room.

Todoroki zoned out for a moment– holding close the feeling that he never wanted to be at an event where you weren't by his side like this. His hands settle appropriately to your waist in a comfortable hug while you admire his suit with surprise.

"This cut is really nice on you. You need to remember this one for the agency dinner next month!"

He tips his head down a bit at the compliment but turned it around to you quickly, 

"I could say the same for you; but I have the feeling anything you choose would have the same effect as this. You sure wear the dress, not the other way around."

"Flatterer."

A warmhanded brush of fingers to your neck, just as you like it,

"Gorgeous."

"Oh GOD,” Bakugou revolts, “don't make me PUKE, ICYHOT!!"

That night, each step you took had Todoroki seeking you out- the clack of your heel piquing his attention. 

His magnetic attraction fell gently over you tonight as always… though your reaction to his sights on you would drag him near the rest of the way: a fierceness he adored about you. How you protected the bond you shared -displaying your love loudly- was an appreciated sign of commitment, whether it took the form of a hand in his, your body pressed close into his side, or through a whispered word meant only for his ears.

One point in the night after supper, Todoroki parted from you briefly. Not far, but you’d strayed off with a few mutual friends engrossed in your own conversation, the social butterfly you were that outshone his more withdrawn personality. The assembly brought some pro-heroes from several districts together and acted as both networking and reunion for those separated by vocation.

You're catching up with an old friend of yours who Todoroki can almost name– if not for the itch of irritation clouding his long term memory. 

There were many whom you’d shared stories of from your past, though the man before you carried a classically flirty energy Todoroki felt he should recall. He’s half listening to Kirishima’s recent advances to the old flame the redhead was tending to– in favor of monitoring the situation involving his own. 

Fortunately, his powers of observation suit him well even in instances like this, where Todoroki can sense from your neck’s tilt alone that you’re locked in conversation, but don’t perceive a threat in your eyes. 

–But unfortunately, it did little to settle his own reservations. Firm reservations. The man had you twirl a bit in an old 1940s style show over your outfit, which only sent poor Todoroki into alert mode. 

He held his glass a bit tighter and tried to not stare bullets into the brunette, yet failed. 

Kirishima’s brief little nudge righted Todoroki’s damning sights on your present company. The unspoken word he held with a raised brow gave Todoroki a fair amount of encouragement, and a check on his palpable jealousy.

“Y’know,” Kirishima took in the sights of the exquisite lighting above their heads, “For a guy who’s got the most temperamental quirk I’ve seen, you’ve got a pretty funny way of showing when you’re unnerved.”

Todoroki bit his tongue from spouting something harsh back, “What do you mean.”

“Normally when folks get hot over something, you can see steam comin’ out their ears, Tom & Jerry style~” Kirishima chuffed. “You on the other hand– take an icy approach.”

Looking down for once, Todoroki noted he now held a frosted glass– more than his crafted cocktail iceblock should do. 

“But hey, keeps your drink from getting watered down, eh? Wish I could have that sort of tell!”

Kept in check by ‘Riot’s playful sense of security, Todoroki calmed his own flare of green. 

It certainly wasn’t his best quality; there was still plenty in his nature that he’s been actively trying to overwrite. His owning of his emotions is work he implements in everyday risk and battle. Though in his efforts to not let those same extreme emotions tear his fledgling little family apart (the one he shares with you), Todoroki tends to take a polarizing approach to his role as a supportive partner than the one his father modeled for him:

Where his old man viewed his wife as subservient and held strict boundaries within their dynamic, the tie he held to you was a treasured partnership. An act of give and take, but one he chose to adore and never take for granted– not for an instant. He was simply protective– at least he was trying to be, in the most even-tempered way.

It was a tender thing he was gifted, in a surprising turn of fate he believed he may never have found for himself… but one thing Todoroki swears to is that coming into your favor was a balm for him. Something steady, something breathing, a lifeline that enriched everything it touched, including his view on the very world itself.

Not just because you were the woman he fully intended to marry someday: but that you were a light he wanted to keep warm and safe and never let anything threaten that shine.

Just relying on the constancy that the very thought of you brings to mind eases Todoroki’s spirit, and he can now react to Kirishima’s asides about Bakugou and Midoriya’s current rivaling ‘dance’ around the dessert table with a lighter heart.

After ignoring where his mind had fallen away to for a moment, a touch brought his attention back to you, who was leading said peacock over. You got real close into Todoroki’s space, a hint he grappled onto immediately as you lowered your tone of voice… purposefully, to make the point clear,

"Hey sweetheart, I brought a old friend over I'd like you to meet!” 

You touched along his chest for security, but it’s a sincere move that would assure even a perfect stranger what the nature of your relationship is. 

“After all,” -casual as you sound, you’re fixed on Todoroki alone- “I wanted everyone here in my circle to know who the next top hero in Japan is... so they can say they knew him when~"

Todoroki looked from you back to the brunette, who seemed a bit taken aback at your crystal clear relationship status now. And boy, did Shoto want nothing more than to play into that. 

But in his perfect, practiced graces, Todoroki met your friend’s gaze with a hand reeling you in close by the waist.

Ordinarily he’d bow or at the very least extend a hand to shake– but pocketing his other hand instead felt like the more appropriate move. A confident stance, assured by your presence once again rubbing at his back unseen.

"How sweet of you, darling. Shoto Todoroki, a pleasure."

Pleasantries are shared, and you never budge once from his hold even to switch weight from one foot to the other. Todoroki feels every bit the power couple, with you by his side.

Once your company did leave after brief chatter again (primarily led by you) did you almost chortle into Todoroki’s neck,

"Oh my God, Sho~ you are steaming."

Todoroki keeps a calm exterior, but hints at his earlier irritation playfully enough in a crowd full of people, "Why was he touching you."

"He's from the islands down south, super big dance culture. Plenty of those dance nights at the student union were headed up by him alone, back in the day….”

But you didn't want to excuse your man's feelings as you caught his eyes,

“Though as it seemed he was willing to pick up some things where he feels we left off, I had to see him straight,” you ran relaxed fingers down his coat’s opening. “Figured I'd let you have a bit of fun, and I'm very glad you behaved."

Todoroki moved you into the music that began queueing up at the moment, so it seemed more like a dance.

"I think I'm having second thoughts about the dress now,” he murmurs with a crafty eye to you. Not aimed to be mean, because there’s plenty of love in his look to spare, “I'm not so sure it sends the right message."

Centering to the front of him, you relished in Todoroki’s duality of design. "Oh?"

"He was drooling over you," He sounded firm.

"And you're not?" You teased by his ear. That comment pressed you closer to him. Maybe a touch possessive, but still giving you plenty of space to settle and push back if you wished. 

Your voice dripped of its soft nature you reserved for him- genuine, and not the customer-service persona you gave off when in control…

"This dress was for me and you, y’know. No one else. See how it matches?” you trace along the inner lining of the jacket, fingers dipping inside where the warmth is captured. 

You draw a special kanji over his heart, a blend of your initials hidden by his coat~

“I’d have my mark on you too, if it wouldn’t look so obvious. Just you, my prince."

Todoroki smiled a bit towards your shoulder, appeased for the moment, catching your eyes again, "I'd like to kiss you for that. But I know how much you worked on all this."

You smirked. Without a word, you smudged a finger to your lips  brusquely, and showed no color at all left behind on the finger. 

"Girl magic: kiss-proof."

Todoroki’s eyes lit for a second before he grinned again. This time, he caught the gaze of another couple standing off to the wall who seemed to be noticing you two, and he very purposefully decided on giving a show, no matter who sees. He’s insanely proud of you, after all, so he could risk a little expression tonight. 

He caressed your neck gently and brought you into a close, full kiss that you chuckled lowly into. He looked blissed and a touch smug on standing back.

"Better, hon’?"

"Better," He smoothed a hand up your back until he took your hand to stay in his arm, "although I think I'll stick a little closer to you tonight, all the same."

"No complaints here," You took a walk through here and there, and managed to claim a view by the tall windows overlooking the nightlife below. "--especially with you trying out a new pet name back there..."

"You liked that, huh?" Todoroki came to stand behind you, and you leaned back into his hug.

You tugged his arms around to where they caressed your sides and swayed a bit comfortably.

He smiled and chuckled into your back, pressing a little kiss onto your forehead offered to him.

Shoto stands with you as you're looking far out into the city, but all he cares about is the window's reflection on you:

Not a paint stroke out of place, even after his kiss. A portrait the room should very well be envious of, but that he’s fully secure is all for him.

"Darling it is."

[mysteria157]

Pairing: Sheriff!Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Summary: You have a system, and it's worked perfectly until now. But in this dusty Western town, Sheriff Nanami Kento is making things...complicated.

By day, you're the town's sweet schoolteacher, loved by all. By night? You're the very secret that drives Nanami to sleepless nights and relentless pursuits.

You're drawn to each other, so it makes keeping your worlds separate a dangerous game that you can't help but play.

Rating/CW: slow burn romance, mild intoxication, brief violence, cowboy activities?, fluff, suggestive content, eventual smut, angst, explicit sexual content (eventually). MDNI!

WC: ~12k (strap in, I guess lol)

Author notes: Hello! It's finally here! I had so much planned for this story that I had no choice but to break it into parts. I struggled a little because there was a lot more world-building than I expected, but I'm proud of the result. This will be a slow burn, so please don't expect any smut right off the jump, lol.

Thank you so much, @pmpmyread @rahuratna, not only for looking this over, but for your advice and support! And thank you all for your motivation as I put this together!!

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

Happy reading!

Header: myself (image from pinterest) | Divider: @anitalenia @saradika network tag: @pixelcafe-network

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | Part Two

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

The saloon door creaks open, letting in a blast of scorching summer air that does little to freshen the stale interior. Nanami steps inside, the cool dimness a refreshing difference from the blazing afternoon sun previously on his back. It smells familiar—scents of whiskey, tobacco, and sweat wrapped around camaraderie like an old, worn blanket.

Tired eyes flicker up from cards and empty glasses, recognition dawning on weather-beaten faces. A chorus of solemn nods greets him, a silent salute to their town’s protector. Nanami returns each nod mechanically, his own gaze carefully schooled to hide the bone-deep weariness that threatens to consume him.

His leather boots, caked with the dust of another fruitless chase, thud heavily against the worn floorboards. Each step feels like a defeat, a reminder of always arriving too late or right before his goal slips through his hands, touching his fingertips like a tease.

“Whiskey,” he grumbles as he plops onto a stool, the wood creaking under his weight. “The bottle, preferably.”

The young bartender—who he knows means well—sends a knowing smirk that sets Nanami’s teeth on edge. How many times has he found himself here, drowning his frustrations in amber liquid? Far too many, he thinks, as a tall glass of whiskey appears before him like a mirage in the desert.

Nanami snatches the Stetson hat from his head, slapping it onto the bar with a force that sends a small cloud of dust into the air. His fingers, calloused from years of handling a gun and reins and rope, curl around the glass, lifting towards the bartender in question. The young man simply shrugs as he cleans a cup with a dirty white towel.

“You drank an entire bottle two days ago, Sheriff. Gotta save some whiskey for the rest of us.”

Nanami doesn’t offer a remark because he has been drinking a lot more lately. While he’s never been one to be too many sheets to the wind, lately, consuming until his vision is fuzzy seems to turn off his thoughts. He takes a generous sip, the whiskey burning a familiar path down his throat but doing little to ease the sting of failure. As he watches the strong alcohol slosh in its glass, he gets lost in its color. The flaxen hue morphs into the fluttering of long lashes and mocking eyes, of a form quick and nimble—always just out of reach.

“You’ll catch ‘em eventually, Sheriff,” the boy offers, more out of habit than conviction. He’s seen Nanami here too many times, that frustrated look etched on his face, chasing something far too fast for him.

Nanami huffs an admonishing chuckle. “Maybe,” he concedes, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. “Or maybe I’m chasing the wind.”

He takes another swig, the alcohol doing little to dispel the sour taste of defeat or replace the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of justice served. But it’s all he has right now. As the waning daylight stretches long and hazy into the sky, somewhere out there, a thief laughs at the law’s futile efforts—at his futile efforts.

He downs the rest of his whiskey, slamming the glass on the counter and ignoring the eyes of patrons who dart up to him from the mild disturbance.

“More,” he demands, sliding the glass across the counter to the bartender. As he watches the whiskey pour, he wonders, not for the first time, if he’s lost more than just a criminal in this endless game of cat and mouse. His integrity, his purpose, his peace of mind—all sacrificed on the altar of justice. And for what? A town that still suffers, and a thief who dances just beyond his grasp.

While the whiskey offers no answers, it at least dulls the ache of what he can’t achieve. But that comes at a price. As his mind fades from the present, it ruminates on the past. On how he grew increasingly disillusioned with his responsibility to protect. It broods on that fateful day when a bullet tore through his dear friend’s body, losing momentum enough to strike Nanami’s badge with a dull thud—a cruel reminder of how close he’d come to joining Haibara, and how utterly he’d failed to protect him.

For a time, he disappeared, carving a new life miles away on his family’s ranch. It was quiet there, peaceful and free of the failure he feels now on a daily basis. But eventually…it wasn’t enough. It was one too many desperate souls who stumbled upon his doorstep, knowing that he would be the only one to help, that he finally decided to come back.

Not that it’s made any difference.

Nanami’s reputation precedes him—the best sheriff this side of the state, a lone wolf who gets results. His name alone makes outlaws think twice before darkening his town’s doorstep. Or at least, it used to.

These past few months, a shadow has been making a mockery of him. A bandit, cloaked in night and silence, slips through his fingers like smoke. Jewels, coins, and the like—all vanish under the cover of darkness, present one morning and gone by the time the sun rises again.

The most maddening part? It’s a woman. He’s caught glimpses—the curve of a hip, a mask of charcoal smudged behind alluring eyes, a whisper of a deep laughter on the wind. She’s a riddle wrapped in black leather, a ghost that haunts his waking hours and torments his dreams.

In all his years, he’s never encountered a more elusive creature.

He lifts his glass, ready to down the contents and ask for more when the rays of sun catch, making the amber gleam like a beacon. The flash of light makes him turn to the saloon’s grimy windows, eyes squinting against the sudden blinding glare.

That’s when he sees you.

Framed by the dusty window pane, across the street, you stand in the golden rays, a vision that seems to part the haze of whiskey and self-pity that’s been clouding his mind. Your smile always seems to make his breath catch; it’s warm and genuine and lights up your face when your smooth lips curl at anything you hear. Right now, he sees it as you bid farewell to your students. They swirl around you like an autumn breeze, their laughter permeable through the glass.

The pink-haired boy—Yuji—who loves to follow Nanami around, wobbles from around the schoolhouse, both hands on the reins of your beautiful Palomino Morgan mare, Buttercup, as he yells to you with a toothy smile.

Nanami blinks, realization slicing through his slightly alcoholic haze like a sharp knife. He’s lost track of time, nearly forgetting his daily ritual that you both share. With a muttered curse, he pushes away from the bar, throwing a few coins on the wood and leaving the half-empty glass behind.

The sudden brightness of the outdoors makes him wince, eyes adjusting to the shift, but never leaving your form. With a soft click of his tongue, Nanami’s handsome chestnut stallion, Flint, nickers at his approach on the side of the saloon, nuzzling his master’s cheek as Nanami strokes his mane and grabs his reins. The horse’s hooves kick up small clouds of dust with each step, matching the steady rhythm of Nanami’s spurs. As he crosses the dusty road, he hides his gaze beneath the shadow of his Stetson to take you in fully.

Nanami’s seen many pretty women in his lifetime. Delicate desert flowers that bloom and wither with the changing seasons. And for the sake of not being the hopeless romantic that Deputy Gojo makes him out to be, you are different. From the moment he laid eyes on you, stepping off that dusty stagecoach with determination set in your jaw and hope shining in your eyes, he knew you were something else entirely. It took him weeks to even speak to you.

Your hair, usually neatly pinned back for teaching, has come slightly loose after a long day with energetic children. A few curly strands dance in the hot breeze, catching the sunlight. Your dress, modest but well-fitted, flows down your body in pale blue, the hem slightly dirty from the grass and dirt. You stand with a posture that commands attention—an undeniable grace in the way you move and Nanami is victim to the call of your hips when they sway.

There’s a smudge of chalk on your cheek, dusty white against smooth brown skin that glows in the sun, and the slight furrow in your brow makes the side of his lips flinch to fight a smile. You’re tired—happy to have another day with children, but ready to get home and relax. You’ll probably take a bath, brush Buttercup’s mane, and try a new pie recipe. It’s little details about you that he’s learned over the years since you moved here, the small moments you’ve both shared that seem to make his heart pound faster than what it should when he’s near you.

Your beauty isn’t just the curve of your cheek or the curl of your lashes. It’s the gentle patience in your voice as you help a struggling student. It’s in your laugh, rich and uninhibited, ringing through his ears when he has the blessing to be near you. It’s in the fire that burns in your voice from ranting about yet another student leaving school to help his family’s farm, a passionate frustration that both terrifies and mesmerizes him.

The sun in this small town is unforgiving, but it paints you in hues of amber and gold, careful with its rays so as not to burn you. Nanami realized a long time ago that ‘pretty’ doesn’t begin to cover you. You’re breathtaking, in every sense of the word. A force of nature wrapped in pale blue calico and lace, stealing his breath and his weary heart with each passing day.

You ruffle Yuji's hair, taking the reins from him and nudging his shoulder to move him along, smiling as he takes off down the street towards his home. Sensing his approach, you finally turn to meet his gaze.

For a moment, Nanami feels exposed. Surely you can’t see the slight cloudiness in his irises from the whiskey? Hopefully, you can’t smell the alcohol that carries in the wind from his breath. Your smile only widens, a hint of knowing in your eyes, and his heart skips in his chest, missing a beat.

“Sheriff,” you greet him, a harmonious voice carrying a note of warmth that bubbles like hot oil in his belly. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten.”

Nanami clears his throat, fighting the rush of blood to his cheeks. “Never,” he manages, one hand resting on his horse’s flank.

“Still in the whiskey?” you tease, lifting an elegant brow. “My, my Sheriff, I didn’t imagine you to be the man.”

It’s easy for you to slice him open and leave him exposed to the open air, vulnerable. Nanami has never been one to be caught by surprise, but you always have him on his toes. In a gesture as old as the West itself, Nanami reaches up and removes his Stetson, holding it respectfully to his chest.

It’s a mechanical response, born from years of ingrained politeness from parents that have long gone, but it’s also more than that. The removal of his hat is an unspoken apology, a show of respect, and a moment of vulnerability all rolled into one.

He falters, unsure and throat tight as he struggles for something to say. To prove to you that he’s a good man and not the drunkard he feels like the mornings after a failed chase. He’s sure he looks like a schoolboy caught in mischief. But as he opens his mouth to defend himself, you chuckle, a rich timbre that makes the bubbling in his belly drip in thick rivulets down his pelvis.

“I’m only teasin',” you insist, stroking Buttercup’s mane, a mischievous smile doing little to help Nanami’s resolve.

Relief washes over Nanami’s face and he visibly relaxes, still not used to just how much you kid with him when you’re both together. He can’t bring himself to answer you or admit that drinking was exactly what he was doing. So he simply clears his throat, offering a gentle pat to your horse.

“Shall we?” he offers, moving to help you mount.

You nod, holding your breath as Nanami’s strong hands encircle your waist. With seemingly effortless strength, he lifts you onto Buttercup’s back, watching to ensure you’re secure before returning to his own horse. He swings himself up onto the saddle with ease, sliding his Stetson on carefully parted blonde locks. Side by side, you begin the ride home, your horses falling into a comfortable trot.

You never speak much, content to bask in your surroundings as you both walk together, but to him, just being close is everything he could ask for. He wishes he could whisk you up onto his horse and nuzzle his nose into the soft skin of your neck as you recall your day. He wishes he could smell the lavender soap you bathe with and the rosemary oil from your silky strands that he’s seen you buy at the general store. When he’s around you, he wishes for so much—he wants.

But an unmarried woman and man, both of position no less, would only garner gossip that he refuses to make you the center of. And his job is a dangerous one, filled with brutality and misery, of justice that seems to never be fulfilling, and he won’t be a man that leaves you in pain when he’s unable to come home.

As you both walk, the familiar sounds of the town surround them—the distant laughter of children, the creak of wagon wheels that pass them on the dirt road, the rhythmic sounds of hoofbeats and the occasional jingle of Nanami’s spurs, the smell of fresh-baked bread that floats in the cooling breeze, mingling with the earthy scent of dust and grass.

“How were the children today?” Nanami asks, trying to break through the self-inflicting resignation that clouds his mind.

You smile, launching into a story about Yuji's latest escapade with a frog in the classroom. Nanami listens, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he imagines the always enthusiastic boy causing a fuss. He marvels at the way your eyes light up when you talk about your students, the passion evident in every word.

As you speak, Nanami can’t help but think of all the times over the years he’s wanted to ask for more. To invite you for dinner, to teach you to shoot on the acres of his ranch, to ask for a dance at the town social when you’re sitting alone, clapping along as Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara scuttle wildly in the lantern-lit barn. The words have been on the tip of his tongue countless times, but he always swallows them back. Content to tell himself he’s doing something noble even as every fiber of his being screams the opposite.

Your laughter pulls him from his thoughts, guttural and melodic in the air, and he realizes he’s missed part of your story. It feels like a crime to not be fully in your presence.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asks, feeling the flush return on his cheeks. His mind has only wandered off for moments, but already your house is in view, the front door signaling another end to a conversation with you. Another walk over, another day done. But you’re safe, and for now, that’s enough for him.

“Sheriff, do you actually listen to me when I speak?” you begin, playful in your accusation.

“Of course I—”

“Or you just like hearing me speak?” you interrupt, a smirk growing, mirth sparkling in beautiful eyes that always make his throat dry. “I didn’t realize my voice was so alluring.”

Nanami chuckles softly, dismounting Flint when you reach the gate on the side of your one-story house. “I’m not sure I can answer truthfully, ma’am.”

You hum, pursing your lips as you smooth the invisible wrinkles off your dress. He refrains from tracing the movement of your hands as they ebb and flow generous curves that rest beneath the fabric. “So you just like me then?”

I do.

Is what he wants to answer. Because he wants, and wants, and wants.

Instead, he guides you down from Buttercup, savoring the meat of your waist between his fingers, the warmth of your body in his hands. He waits patiently as you guide her through the gate and inside the stable behind your house. When you return, he can’t help but note the subtle disappointment in your eyes, the way one side of your lip pulls in as you bite into it. He wonders if his own face conveys the same, if you can see the subtle sag in his shoulders of having to leave you so soon.

“Same time tomorrow?” you ask, eyes simmering with what he wants to think is hope.

“Because I like to hear you speak,” he unwittingly teases, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, ma’am.”

As he moves to mount his horse, you’re transfixed by the fluid grace of his movements. He places one scuffed boot in the stirrup, strong corded hands gripping the saddle horn as he swings himself up and onto the Flint’s back like it’s nothing.

Atop his chestnut stallion, Nanami cuts an impressive figure. His sheriff uniform fits him perfectly. A tailored deep blue shirt with long sleeves rolled to his elbows and tucked into denim around a lean waist. A sturdy brown leather vest creased from long days under the sun emphasize his broad shoulders. On one side of his chest rests a gleaming tin star, a symbol of authority and responsibility with a bullet-sized dent beneath the words that signify him. On his left hip, a lasso is coiled neatly, ready for action at a moment’s notice. On his right, his gun rests in its leather holster—a weapon you’ve seen him use a few times—and a constant reminder of the dangers he faces to keep the town safe.

The late amber light casts a warm glow over his features, highlighting the strong line of his jaw and the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes—a man who’s seen both laughter and hardship. Laughter he gives you when he can, hardship he refuses to indulge. His Stetson sits low on his brow, casting a shadow over umber eyes that make his gaze seem even more intense as he looks down at you.

No matter how many times you are both together, you are always struck by how handsome Nanami is. Rugged and weather-worn, yet with a gentleness in his eyes and kindness in his warm voice that makes your heart flutter. He’s the embodiment of everything a cowboy should be—strong, capable, and undeniably attractive.

As if sensing your admiration, he clears his throat loudly, dramatically, the corners of his lips twitching as you blink back to the present.

You retaliate in the only way you know how. “And stop calling me ma’am, as if we haven’t known each other for a few years.”

You insist on this every single time the title slips past his lips. And like every time before, Nanami smiles softly, reaches up, fingers grasping the brim of his Stetson, and tips his hat to you in a gesture that’s both gallant and a little playful.

“Have a good night, ma’am.”

You roll your eyes, mouth pulling into a small smile, heart beating like a drum in your chest, before you huff. “Goodnight, Sheriff.”

He watches you enter your home, waiting until the door closes behind you before clicking his tongue and shifting his weight, setting Flint into motion. The ride back to his office seems longer somehow, the town sounds a little dimmer as he gets closer, and the alluring smell of fresh bread he noted on the way to your house is now replaced with an enticing whisper of more whiskey now that you’re no longer by his side.

The church bells chime softly as you settle into your usual pew, absentmindedly picking lint off your lavender Sunday dress. You nod politely to Mrs. Watson, the baker’s wife, as she shuffles past with a hand on her youngster’s shoulder. Your eyes, soft and inviting to all who meet them, scan the congregation with practiced nonchalance.

Pastor Roberts steps up to the pulpit, black hair slicked with too much pomade, enormous silver rings on too many fingers, his voice booming through the small church. “Before we begin, I’d like to thank everyone who contributed to our new railroad station fund. And I’d like to give a very special mention to Mrs. Thompson, whose generous donation has brought us significantly closer to our goal. Your generosity truly embodies the spirit of our little community.”

The crowd breaks into genuine praise and applause. Mrs. Thompson, always seated in the back pew in her faded but clean dress, ducks her head modestly with a sheepish smile. Your heart clenches in despair, knowing she works grueling shifts at the general store just to make ends meet, her children practically raised by her neighbors. You’re sure that she’s only going above and beyond so her husband, who works many miles away, can come home often. She probably has nothing left—you just know it—and the thought makes your blood boil.

“Now, regarding the final sum we need,” the pastor continues, clearing his throat, “I’m sure we can count on our more…fortunate members to help us reach our goal.”

From the front pew, Mrs. Jones pipes up, her haughty voice carrying over the congregation. “Oh, we’d love to help next time, Pastor! We would’ve contributed more, but we had an unexpected expense with some…essential purchases this past week.”

She adjusts the luxurious new fur draped over her shoulders, seemingly oblivious to the irony of her words. You glare at the offensive garment, boiling blood now thickening with unquestionable anger.

Like so many other wealthy families in this town, the Jones are always eager to flaunt their excess, parading their luxury with heartless disregard for those who sacrifice their last penny for the common good. Content to take what they want, they turn a blind eye to those who truly need help, their indifference as cold as the coins they keep to themselves.

To others like them, poverty is a personal failing. In their minds, if people like Mrs. Thompson would try harder, work longer, or simply stop being sad and hungry out of sheer will, they too could reach the heights of wealth and respect. Preaching a gospel of bootstraps and self-reliance, willfully ignorant of the walls that keep the poor trapped.

Stepping foot in this sweltering church each Sunday is a test of your patience and resolve. But, you push through, hidden behind a mask of piety. As the pastor’s words fade into a monotonous hum, your attention shifts to the whispered gossip around you, ears poised for information that might prove useful. If Mama was still alive, she’d probably scold you if she knew your true intentions.

“Shameful,” Mrs. Clark mutters to her friend, her tone leaking with disdain and disbelief. “The Jones had enough for that fancy social at their house last week and an entire shipment of new furs, but not enough for something that we were all asked to contribute to? Just shameful, I tell you.”

“And here’s Mrs. Thompson giving what little she has just so her man can come home more often.”

You shake your head as you pretend to join in the gossip, your resolve hardening by the second.

Bingo.

After the service, you linger, making small talk with a widow about her new rhubarb pie recipe, when you spot your target.

“Oh, Mrs. Jones,” you call out, your voice dripping with misplaced sweetness. She turns around to face you, regal in cosmetics, a shade too bright, her fur sitting nicely on her neck even as she sweats like a sinner. “I meant to tell you earlier. Your fur is lovely.”

Mrs. Jones preens, her chest puffing like a peacock, basking in the attention. “Why thank you!” she gushes, dripping with false modesty. “Got them fresh last week. I would love for you to see the rest when I’m back in town. Jimmy and I leave for Millbrook and we’ll be gone for a week or two. It’s so refreshing to meet someone who appreciates fine things.”

You offer a small smile, excitement filling your body of your plans unfolding before you. “You’ll surely be missed. I do hope you have a wonderful time.”

She beams again, red lipstick cracking down the middle. “Make sure you stop by when we return, won’t you?”

You do stop by, but it’s a day after the Jones leave, a shadow among shadows. Buttercup leans into your touch when you brush a gloved hand along her glossy mane. You hop on her back, clicking your tongue to urge her into the night.

It’s further out of town, which makes this better for you—the fewer eyes, the better. The Jones estate looms ahead, dark and silent. You leave Buttercup a few yards away, patting her side as she lowers her head to graze. “I’ll be right back, girl. Just wait for my call.”

You circle to the back of the Jones’ house, glaring at the clean paint and beautiful greenery. A flickering light from a first-floor window catches your attention, and you duck down on impulse—the night watchman, no doubt. The Jones have enough money but spend too excessively to afford a maid. While this is a hindrance you can easily deal with, it’s still a thorn in your side. Patience has always been your ally, but tonight, it’s tested.

You know the town’s law enforcement, led by Sheriff Nanami, has been increasing patrols around wealthy homes because of your activities. The thought of him potentially catching you always sends a confusing concoction of thrill and dread through your veins.

Still, you wait, hidden in the shadows and the lush greenery around you, watching the guard’s routine. He leaves every ten minutes to patrol the house, returns, and scratches the sparse hair of his beard before plopping in his chair. His yawns grow more frequent as the night wears on, but he seems to alert himself with each distant noise. It takes a few more patrols and a few deep breaths to soothe your anxiety when you think you hear hoofbeats in the distance, but eventually, he settles one final time, his chin dropping to his chest as he dozes off, and you make your move.

A few windows over, a trellis catches your eye—perfect. Years of practice have taught you to distribute your weight evenly to avoid creaks as you climb the lattice. At the second-story window, you pause, listening. From your vantage point, the only source of light dimly from the living room below is the guard’s open door. The sound of his distant snores sets you back in action.

With ease, you manipulate the window latch, easing it open slowly to avoid any squeaks. You slip inside, your feet silent as they land on a plush carpet. The lavishness is an immediate assault on your senses—the air tinged with rose and peppermint, your eyes widening at the guest bedroom walls covered in paintings and deer heads. You grimace. Extravagant niceties that those less fortunate would give their soul for the value.

You pause at the top of the stairs, eyes scanning the house around you for anyone else, ears straining for any sound from the guard below or, worse, the approach of patrol outside. Satisfied, you ghost through well-decorated hallways towards the master bedroom. Without a moment to waste, you scan the ornate space. You know to secure your exits, and your entrances, and you smirk when you spot a sturdy chair on the other side of the room.

Silently, you wedge the chair under the doorknob, its back legs lifted slightly off the ground. It’s not the best, but it should buy you precious time if needed. You turn back to the master bedroom, eyes narrowed as you move on to your next step.

You’ve seen it all before, and no matter what, they keep their valuables in the same predictable places. A bookshelf with too much space that you can push against to open a second compartment. A floorboard slightly elevated than the rest. But for the Jones, it’s the garish family portrait above their bed—the same one Mrs. Jones boasted about at church weeks ago. Another unexpected but essential expense.

Your fingers work quickly as you carefully remove the painting, revealing the gleaming safe behind it. You press your ear against the cool metal, your fingertips ghosting over the dial. With precision, you begin to turn it, listening intently for the telltale clicks of the tumblers falling into place.

First to the right, slow and steady. Click. Back to the left, past the first number. Click. Right again, slower this time, feeling for the slightest resistance. Click.

Your breath catches as the final tumbler falls into place, heart racing with the promise of success as you slowly turn the handle. The safe door swings open with a satisfying creak, and inside, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight streaming through the window, sits your prize. Stack of crisp bills and glittering jewels, a physical manifestation of the good that they can do in the right hands.

As you transfer the wealth into your satchel, a floorboard creaks downstairs. You freeze, every muscle in your body taut as a bowstring, lungs seizing in your chest. You hear the rustle of clothing—the guard stirring in his chair. It feels like seconds stretch into an eternity as you wait, hand hovering over the gun on your hip. Just as your lungs scream for air, his snoring resumes, and you exhale slowly, your racing heart gradually steadying.

You’re hyper-aware of every sound as you work. The whisper of the bills, the soft clink of jewels—each seems magnified in the stillness of this gigantic house. You’re nearly finished, only two more stacks, when another creak echoes through the house, this one closer, more deliberate. There’s no settling floorboards from a new house or snoring night guard.

Someone’s here.

Suddenly, the doorknob jiggles violently, a voice on the other side booming through the previously silent house. You know the voice anywhere, one that haunts both your waking hours and your dreams.

Your heart picks back up, ice water filling your veins as the hairs on your neck stand up straight, but your hands remain steady as you gather the last of the valuables and ease the safe closed. Even in the face of being caught, you have to remain calm. It’s what’s kept you unnoticed and alive this long.

You replace the painting, your eyes already scanning the room for escape routes. You can easily go back out through the window, but the trellis you came upon is in the guest bedroom a few doors over. The jump from this window won’t be damaging, but it’ll hurt, and you don’t have time to use your rope to help you down.

Banging erupts against the door, the wood jumping from the force of the assault. “Sir! I’m here!” The night guard’s voice joins in beneath the noise, and you hear his hurried gait up the stairs.

You don’t have time for schematics. Time’s up. You throw the satchel around your shoulder and bolt for the window, only seconds before the door frame splinters from the strength of two men, the chair tumbling across the floor.

“Freeze!” A deep baritone barks, harsh and volatile, but you’re already halfway out the window, your leather boots pressed to the paneling, your hands holding you up like a spider monkey. You can’t help but pause, your wide-brimmed hat and black bandana obscuring most of your features. Coal-smudged eyes, their true color blending with the blackness surrounding them, meet the gaze of the man before you. He’s never been able to get a photo or any sort of evidence from you, not in times like these. He’ll never know who you are. But you know exactly who he is.

Sheriff Nanami Kento stands in the moonlit room, his stance wide and authoritative. Protector of the town, your number one purser, and a man who, despite your best efforts, has made a permanent home in your thoughts.

Mysterious mahogany eyes, usually kind and warm when they look at you during the day, now burn with determination and anger. That gun that you’ve seen him use to shoot targets and make Yuji laugh now points directly between your eyes.

As you look at him—the tension in his broad shoulders as they rise and fall beneath his shirt and vest, the dark circles under his eyes that speak of sleepless nights chasing your shadow—a pang of guilt slithers down your chest. Maybe if you take a small break with your escapades, he could get some sleep. You hate it when he’s tired, especially when you’re the cause.

But these thoughts are dangerous. Over the years, you’ve let him get too close, allowed him to see much of the real you, and now you’re beginning to feel the consequences.

But you can think about this another time; you’ve stayed longer than necessary. Right now, you have a job to finish. With a hitch in your breath, you drop to the ground. You land with a thud, your ankles absorbing the impact. A sharp pain shoots up your right leg, but you grit your teeth and push through it. You can’t afford to stop now.

The wild grass is thick as you sprint through the open fields, the satchel of stolen valuables bouncing heavily against your hip. Your breath slices through your lungs in short gasps, the cool night air burning in your chest. Behind you, you hear the chaos of pursuit. Nanami’s commanding voice mixes with the night guard’s confused shouts, and the sound of boots hitting the ground tells you they’ve made it out of the house.

You ignore the ebbing pain in your ankle, pushing yourself harder, faster. The grass gets taller with every inch you gain, whipping at your leather-clad legs as you tear through the field, the darkness both a hindrance and a shelter. You use the moonlight to guide you, your eyes scanning the landscape for the rock face you left Buttercup at on your way here.

A distant whinny in your ear cues you instantly. You whistle for her sharply, praying your faithful steed is close enough to hear. Her thundering hooves answer your prayers, growing louder by the second as she matches your sprint.

She appears like magic, slowing enough for you to leap onto her back and urge her into a gallop with a click of your tongue and a squeeze of your knees. With your view no longer obscured by the tall grass, you turn back to the disappearing estate, your heart dropping when you spot several riders—Nanami’s men, no doubt—headed toward you.

Gunshots pop through the air, the whoosh of silver bullets whizzing past your ears and missing their mark. But they’re getting closer. You hold your breath, absorbing the minute fear that blooms in your chest as you risk another glance behind you. Nanami is now at the front, his face grim and emboldened.

A snort from Buttercup turns your attention ahead. You fold low over her neck, your thighs contracting and relaxing in harmonious sync with her thunderous gallops. You taught yourself how to ride after Mama died, determined to do whatever it took to make it through the world. You found Buttercup then, neglected and forgotten, a mirror of your own lost soul. Now, years later, you both move as one, you anticipating her every move born of trust and time, she responds to the smallest shift of your weight as if reading your very thoughts.

Up ahead, the path narrows, winding through a rocky formation that makes you pull in your shoulders on reflex, as if you’re squeezing to fit. You guide Buttercup with a slight shift of the reins and a coo to her twitching ears.

There’s a fallen tree a few yards away, blocking most of the path and making it almost impassable. But you know what you can do. With a click of your tongue and a minuscule pressure of your knees into her sides, she reads your message immediately, huffing before launching over the thick oak in a magnificent leap. She lands with grace on the other side, hooves kicking up dirt in victory. It buys you the seconds that you need, but it won’t be enough. Nanami and his men will find their way around, and you need this chase to end. Now.

Ahead, a boulder ten times your size, with jagged edges and thick cracks, creates a fork in the path. You form an idea that is risky but will buy you the time you need to get home safely.

You guide Buttercup down the left path, your hand reaching for the pistol on your hip. You wind up the reins in one hand, squeezing the leather to hold you steady as you swiftly turn in your saddle to face the dusty world behind you. With the change in position, your hips work against the momentum of Buttercup’s stride instead of with it, and your tweaked ankle stings with every slap against her side. But you’ve practiced this before, and your balance is perfect, hand steady even as you move at breakneck speed.

Nanami and his men emerge from the curve of the path, eyes locked on you with deadly intent, and in that split second, you take your shot.

You’re not aiming to kill or even injure—your target is the lanterns that hang from each saddle horn. Amidst the bucking of your hips and the wind that whizzes past your ears, you hold your breath—forcing your heart to slow as your vision tunnels, and your finger squeezes the trigger. Before Nanami and his men can even reach for their guns, the air cracks, gunshots from your firearm hitting their mark to make the lanterns explode. It has its desired effect—their horses are startled, bucking onto their back feet as they whine in fright.

Nanami doesn’t want to, you can tell from the look in his eyes, but he has no choice but to look away. His eyes leave you as he tries his best to console his stallion and the rest of his gang. You take advantage of the chaos and twirl back around, relaxing your hand on the reins and exhaling the painful breath that was lodged in your lungs.

“Good girl,” you murmur, patting Buttercup’s neck as you coax her into a more fierce gallop and disappear into the night, the sounds of pursuit fading behind you. The satchel on your hip bucks with your mare’s kicks, reminding you of a job well done.

Even with the adrenaline of success thrumming through you, your mind always wanders back to the ‘why’ of it all.

When the guilt tries to curl in your chest when you least expect it, you remember Mama’s sunken face as she divided a molded loaf of bread between the two of you. You remember the hollow eyes of your neighbors too proud to beg. You remember the day you and Mama stood outside the general store in your hometown, staring at a display of fresh fruit, its price more than your weekly earnings. You remember being shooed away by the store owner, muttering about “ill-bred women,” lowering the tone of his establishment.

That night after Mama finally fell asleep, you stole for the first time. So skinny that you could slip through the gap in Mr. Thornton’s fence of his apple orchard. You took only one—a small, slightly misshapen apple covered in dirt—fear rattling your bones at the thought of being caught. But its sweetness, shared with Mama the next morning, was everything you could have asked for.

The concept of right and wrong has always been blurred for you. You’re certainly not right in the eyes of the law, or perhaps even in the eyes of God that Mama believed in so much. But when you distribute your spoils in the dead of night, slipping money through house doors. When you see the disbelief turn to joy on a widow’s face because she can feed her children another week. When you watch a frail old man cry over a warm coat that will see him through the winter—you sleep a little better.

The world isn’t fair. You learned that lesson far too soon in your life. But in your own way, with these midnight heists and heart-pounding adventures, you’re trying to balance some sort of scale. It’s not justice…but it’s something. Something that lets you look at yourself in the mirror each morning, that calms the angry, helpless, and hungry child still living in your memories.

Tomorrow, you’ll begin distributing this wealth to those who truly need it. Yuji's grandpa will have enough to buy his grandson new clothes. Mrs. Thompson will have enough to make up for the remaining savings she gave to the church. And come Monday, you’ll greet Sheriff Nanami with a warm smile as he walks you home from a day’s work at the school, your secret safe for another day.

The thrill of every heist, the satisfaction of outwitting the law, the knowledge that you’re helping those in need—it all mingles in your veins like the sweetest whiskey you tease the Sheriff for indulging in. As the stars twinkle overhead as you wash the coal from Buttercup’s nose that hides her white markings, you allow yourself a moment of pride. It’s probably not much in the grand scheme of things, but to someone in this town, it’ll mean the world.

“Did you hear about Mrs. Jones’s place?”

“Ma says the bandit struck again, cleaned them out in seconds!”

You keep your face carefully neutral as you pick up on your student’s conversations that dance on the hot air, but you’re filled with pride and guilt. You can’t help but think of Sheriff Nanami, of the frustration you see etched on his handsome face so often. Even yesterday, those determined eyes flickered with hints of shame. For a moment, doubt creeps in, whispers in your ears like a tease, threatening to unearth everything you’ve worked for.

But then you look at Sarah’s new turquoise ribbon that compliments her wheat-colored hair as she twirls in a circle on the dusty road. You remember Tommy’s gait as he said goodbye to you just minutes ago, no longer wobbly now that his toes have room to move in new shoes.

The whispers of your students and how surprised and elated they were to find money under their doorstep make you steel yourself. Despite the risks, despite the growing complexity of your feelings—it’s always worth it.

Your life is a study in contrasts. Mornings are quiet affairs—a cup of coffee, a soothing hand down Buttercup’s mane as she eats her breakfast, the silence of an empty classroom. Afternoons explode with energy—eager questions, laughter, and the occasional disagreement amongst your students. You think of Mama, how she read to you as a child, planting seeds of knowledge that would one day bloom into your passion for teaching. It’s another way you give back—maybe some form of atonement you aren’t ready to address—but to fill another generation’s head with knowledge is a gift you wouldn’t trade.

Coming to this town years ago was an escape—from the pain of Mama’s death, from the constant fear of your life as a thief. You only meant to stay a few months, take what you needed, give it back to those like you, and vanish. But loneliness has a way of anchoring a soul.

Months became years. A solitary existence morphed into friendships with neighbors and an undeniable connection with the stoic sheriff who walks you home, an unspoken affection blossoming between you.

Years of experience have made you attuned to the whispers in town. You know how much Mr. Fletcher has hidden away in his safe. You know what date and time certain shipments come in and who they are going to.

Lately, though, whispers of a different sort have caught your ear. Tales of a hidden treasure in the old mine outside of town. Yuji talks about it almost every day, how his grandfather is convinced the treasure is real. The town’s cobbler rolls his eyes at the rumor, often grumbling about how the citizens should focus on earning revenue through hard work and no shortcuts. The more adventurous of the town have scoped the plains around this town time and time again. But it’s never bore any fruit.

Even you have dismissed it as just another local legend. But the thought nags at you, a persistent itch you can’t quite scratch. While you do not doubt the well-meaning residents of this town, they may not have your experience. They may not know how to scale a rocky mountain or where to look. But you do.

You’ve spent years justifying your actions, convincing yourself that the end justifies the means. That it’s a necessary evil in a world that turns a blind eye to suffering. To walk away now feels like the biggest betrayal of everything you’ve fought for, everything your Mama taught you about standing up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. Even last night, you went through your routine of reiterating that what you’re doing is for a good cause.

But the twinge in your ankle when you woke up this morning. The bleariness in your eyes from little sleep. The exhaustion weighs heavily on you. The loneliness is more palpable every morning when you roll over to an empty bed. Because you can’t share the darkness of your secrets with anyone. Is it selfish to want a normal life after being exposed to the rotten core of it? To want stability, a future untainted by the shadow of your past, to want love? Or is it more selfish to continue on this path, risking everything—including the hearts of those who’ve come to care for you—for a cause that seems never-ending?

The infinite revolving of these thoughts makes you think twice about those rumors. So…what if the treasure is real? What if there’s enough hidden away to help everyone in town, to right all the wrongs you’ve seen? Enough to let you hang up this hidden life for good, to just be the schoolteacher—no more lies, no more risks, no more seeing the weight of failure in Nanami’s eyes.

Hours later, after your students have long gone, you’re atop Buttercup, having decided an afternoon ride might clear your head. You break through the bustle of town, the sun painting the landscape of open plains. As you crest a small hill, you scan the horizon, absorbing every detail with practiced observation that’s served you well in your double life.

You remember it all from your first few weeks here—a dilapidated shed outside of town, a small lake where wild animals drink from to the north. But with more focus, to the West, you spot unfamiliar rocky terrain. What catches your eye is how the rocks seem to fit together—not stacked with the random chaos of nature, but with an almost deliberate precision. It’s as if the hands of a giant stacked them long ago, their edges now overgrown and softened by wind and time.

If you were to slowly move the rocks over time, you could find an unexplored cave on the other side—not a mine like the rumors claim. Whatever it could be, it’s definitely worth investigating. You make a mental note of its location, your innate sense of direction and topography—honed by years of midnight runs—ensuring you can find it easily again.

As you make one last sweep across the landscape, your ears pick up on the stressed mooing of cows and the yells of men. After riding toward the source for a few minutes, you finally spot the commotion. Mr. Williams’ well-maintained fence is broken with wooden boards sprawled on the plains as a group of cattle amble and run free. They shuffle as fast as their heavy bodies will take them, mooing loudly in distress.

You’ve done some wrangling as a young girl, a grueling job that paid you very little to feed you and Mama, so you immediately hone in on the weak points of the fence and the patterns of the cattle’s movement.

You spring into action, clicking your tongue and squeezing your thighs around Buttercup to make her take off. The wind whips through your hair, loosening curls from your usually neat bun. As you draw closer, your heart leaps in your chest.

There, in the midst of the chaos, is Nanami. He sits on his stallion with an easy grace that makes your mouth go dry. Eyes narrowed with determination, cheekbones glossy with sweat and dirt. His vest is gone, and you note the navy long sleeve that squeezes his thick form, his forearms exposed and veiny. His strong biceps flex as he twirls his lasso, long fingers cinched tight around the base of the noose, wrist twirling in a motion you’ve thought about late at night with your fingers buried deep inside of you.

Gods, he’s handsome. Even that first day when you both met in front of the general store, Nanami reaching down to collect the books you had dropped, you knew then he would be your undoing. He has proven to be the one constant in your mind when you should be thinking about your goal.

He’s the kind of man that you could bring home to Mama, though you’d have to keep a watchful eye on her so she doesn’t flirt herself. He’s the kind of man who can work the fields and protect a town, that can fend off criminals and walk children the school, that can come home after a long day and kiss you until your eyes roll into your skull. That can grunt in appreciation from the fingernails that dig into his back, your legs wrapped around his waist as he buries himself to the hilt and—

“Need a hand, Sheriff?” you call out, shaking yourself back to reality, swallowing the saliva in your mouth. You can think about him later. Right now, that adventurous itch comes to life at the base of your spine. You love being a teacher, but you miss things like this—the thrill of the ride, the tingling sensation of a challenge, and Nanami’s presence all combine to create a heady rush of adrenaline through your veins.

Nanami’s head turns at the sound of your voice, deep brown eyes widening in surprise. The movement of his wrist stops, and his lasso plops on his head, musing perfectly parted blonde locks as the rope smacks the sides of his face. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, yes, but adoration and something more pungent that makes your skin tingle.

“Ma’am, this isn’t exactly—” he starts, but you’re already taking off.

A whistle from your lips springs Buttercup into action, galloping a wide birth around the scattered calves. You free your own rope from your saddle horn, the weight in your hands a comforting reminder of late nights practicing in your stable. You hitch up, bunching your thighs with hidden strength, twirling the lasso once, twice, feeling the perfect balance of it.

Then, with a fluid movement, you send the rope flying towards the calf closest to you. It arcs through the air before finding its mark, settling around the calf’s neck with perfect precision. You ignore the feel of Nanami’s eyes on you as you wrestle to rebellious calf back into Mr. Williams’ yard. The man himself is already releasing the rope and ushering the calf away from the fence that is slowly being repaired by his ranch hands.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Nanami asks when you pace up next to him. The lasso is still haphazard over his head, lips parted in astonishment.

“Are you implyin' that I shouldn’t know how to do that, Sheriff?” you tease, guiding Buttercup in a slow trot around Nanami and his stallion. He fumbles to correct himself, cheeks heating as he pulls at the rope around his neck and shoulders. “Should I only know teachin' and how to care for a home?”

“N-now you know that’s not what I—”

You cut him off with a sharp chuckle, making another rotation around him and his steed, a mischievous glint in your eye. “You’re so gullible.” He throws you a wary look, finally pulling the lasso off his body in a huff. “Now, are you gonna help me, or not?”

You and Nanami fall into sync, working in tandem to herd the cattle back into Mr. Williams’ enclosed space. It’s perfect choreography—when Nanami moves right, you’re already swinging left.

Before long, you spot a flash of white in your peripheral vision. Deputy Gojo leans against the fence, his shock of white hair practically reflective in the sun. He’s been practically absent up until this point and, unlike you and Nanami, seems in no rush to join the action. He eyes you with a charismatic smile, flirtatious in his gaze, but you’re quick to roll your eyes playfully and get back to the task at hand.

There’s a grace to Nanami’s body as he works. His hips roll with each movement of his horse, the rock back and forth, a rhythm hypnotic and alluring. The muscles in his denim-clad thighs flex as he grips his mount, powerful and thick. His face maintains his usually iron-faced composure, focused on the task, but an undeniable beauty to his concentration. The setting sun enhances his features, the shadows accentuate his strong jaw and cheekbones. A bed of sweat traces a tantalizing path down his neck, disappearing beneath a collar that’s three buttons undone.

As you drive a cow forward, Nanami is there to lasso and guide it home. The way he hands his horse, the quiet commands and clicks, the subtle shifts of his body, and the grunts that leave his form when he throws his lasso—it all speaks of a man completely in control, and you find it mesmerizing…and utterly arousing. There’s something primal and enticing about watching him move, about being in such perfect harmony with him. It’s a blaring reminder of the attraction that’s been simmering between you.

At one point, you end up riding side by side, so close that your legs brush against each other. The contact, even through the layers of your dress, is scalding. You steal a glance at Nanami, darting through the disheveled curls in front of your eyes, only to find him already looking at you. Those dark eyes are smoldering—intense with an emotion that radiates from you both and squeezes your throat tight.

As the last cow meanders through the repaired fence, you both are panting from exhaustion, guiding your horses to a slow stroll. Mr. Williams jogs towards you both, followed closely by Gojo, a lazy saunter and an ever-present mischievous look on his face.

“I had no idea you could wrangle so well,” Mr. Williams exclaims, waving enthusiastically as he reaches up and takes the reins of both your horses to lead them towards a water trough. “That was incredible. I have no idea how to repay you.”

You wave him off, trying not to preen under the praise. Gojo's incredibly rare and well-bred snow-white Quarter Horse saunters up to you, the animal indignant in his strides just as much as its owner.

“Well,” Gojo drawls, crystal blue eyes sweeping appreciatively over your form. “Didn’t think a schoolteacher had fine lasso skills. Any other skills I should know about? You can show me at the town festival in a few weeks.”

It’s undeniably forward, enough to make a dignified man turn beet red in anger and a fragile woman faint. But it’s Deputy Gojo Satoru—uncaring of the world that he feels revolves around him.

“Gojo,” Nanami snaps, harsh and biting with an undercurrent that makes your spine straighten. “For once in your life, stop pestering every woman within a few feet of you.”

You can’t help but chuckle, shrugging dismissively and patting Buttercup’s neck as she drinks. “No harm done, Sheriff. I’m sure Deputy Gojo here was just being friendly, weren’t you?” You ask, voice laden with a double meaning that makes Gojo smile warily, suddenly apprehensive. “Though I’d caution against mistaking friendliness for interest. Wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea and end up disappointed…again.”

Gojo's jaw drops, Mr. Williams chokes on a snort a few yards away, and you hear Nanami stifle a harsh grunt that cracks on the edges.

Gojo sputters, pale white cheeks burning, his usual confidence faltering in the night air as he flaps his gills. “I’ll have you know, I’ve never been disappointed in matters of the heart.”

You hum nonchalantly, pursing your lips in disbelief. “Oh? So that wasn’t you I saw sulking behind the saloon last month? What was it you were muttering? Something about Geto turning you down for the second time?”

At the mention of Geto's name, Gojo's blue eyes widens, a squeak eeping from glossy lips. Nanami, unable to contain himself any longer, lets out a bark of laughter.

“I—that’s not—how did you—” Gojo stammers, looking between you and Nanami with wide, suspicious eyes. You simply shrug, glancing at Nanami. There’s a glimmer of amusement there, a shared moment of mirth at Gojo's expense. At some point, Gojo grows tired of entertaining you both, clicking his mouth in annoyance and taking off towards town. You snort at his retreating form, giggling with the rush of excitement of the evening.

When Mr. Williams sees you both off, the night is a cool blanket around you both. The moon sits high, a silver pendant on the velvet black sky, while the stars twinkle like scattered diamonds. For awhile, you both ride in silence, the rhythmic clop of hooves a soothing melody to your turmoil from earlier in the day. The air carries the scent of grass and wildflowers, mixing with the sweat that lingers on your skin. It’s Nanami who breaks the quiet, his deep voice a relaxing current of electricity down your spine.

“He will only take your wit as a challenge,” he muses, mildly amused.

“Gojo will forget all about me the minute Ms. Foxworth bats her eyelashes at him.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle, casting his face in a brief flash of masculine flirtation that makes your heart skip. “And Ms. Foster,” he adds, catching onto your game.

“And Ms. Chamberlain,” you continue, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

“And I’m pretty sure Mrs. Jones,” Nanami finishes, snorting to himself because she’s married, and that’s never stopped Gojo before.

Your eyes meet, scandalous realization settling over you both, and in that moment, the ridiculousness of it all bubbles up inside. Laughter erupts from you first, a released cascade of glee as your head tilts to the night sky. The sound of Nanami’s deep chuckles mingles with your giggles, creating a harmony that seems to resonate in your very bones. It feels good to laugh with Nanami. Just like any other time you spend with him. It takes your mind off the thought of leaving this town—of leaving him—forever.

The night is cool against your skin, but your chest blooms with warmth. You’re about to comment on the beauty of the star-studded sky when you notice Nanami reach into his vest pocket. He pulls out a cigarette, lips wrapping around the filter with a firm but gentle grip.

Your heart sinks, a leaden weight pulling it further down your rib cage. You’ve noticed he only smokes when he’s particularly stressed, and the sight of it now, after such a wonderful evening, makes you frown. You know it’s because of his work, the harshness he sees every day, and his relentless pursuit of the bandit—of you—only makes it worse for him. The remorse gnaws at your insides like a rabid animal.

Doing your best to mask the torrent of emotions threatening to consume you, you aim for a teasing approach. “Stressed, Sheriff?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow and hoping he can’t hear the slight shake in your voice.

Nanami pauses, the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He looks at you with a flicker of embarrassment, highlighting the tired lines around his eyes that you wish you could smooth away with your fingertips. “Ah, my apologies,” he says, moving to put it away. “The smell—”

You wave him off. “I don’t mind. Not much of a smoker when I need to relax.”

He hums but doesn’t respond, striking a match and cupping large hands around the flame. The brief light illuminates his face, casting shadows across his face. You find yourself transfixed by the way the flame reflects in his dark eyes, like embers in the night.

He takes a long drag, the tip brightening in burnt orange and gold. Nanami exhales, the smoke curling seductively from his nose and into the air, the sight more enticing than it should be. “So, when do you smoke, ma’am?”

His voice is entirely too low, entirely too deep. You playfully glare at the use of ‘ma’am’ for what feels like the nth time since you’ve known each other. You decide to be mischievous, precariously throwing caution to the wind.

“Oh, you know,” you say airily, looking up at the sky as you try to emit an air of faux innocence. Nanami looks at you cautiously, raising a dark blonde eyebrow expectantly, eyes narrowing as he picks up on the teasing tilt in your voice. “You smoke when you’re stressed. I smoke to unwind from a job well done. Preferably, after taking a good man for a ‘ride’.”

Heat simmers beneath your skin as you speak, low and husky and loaded with suggestive humor that surprises even you.

It’s an immediate effect and more satisfying than you could have ever imagined. Nanami sputters, choking on the smoke. His eyes go wide, and crimson erupts up the glimpse of open chest and neck, visible even in the moonlight, spreading to his cheeks in a way that makes you want to trace its path with your lips.

You can’t help but giggle as he coughs. “You make it too easy sometimes, Sheriff,” you say between laughs.

Nanami clears his throat repeatedly, desperately trying to regain his composure. But you catch the corners of his mouth twitching, fighting a smile that makes you bite into your bottom lip. His chest heaves as he takes in deep breaths, and your eyes watch the way his shirt stretches across his wide shoulders with each inhalation.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he finally manages in a rough voice, glaring at you with a mix of exasperation and fondness that warms you from the inside out.

“So I’ve been told,” you reply with a wink, reveling in the way his breath catches again at your boldness. He shakes his head with a chuckle, turning back to the open plains in front of him.

You notice that some of the tension has left Nanami’s shoulders, his posture relaxed once more. Your guilt eases a little, knowing that, at least for this moment, you’ve managed to lighten his burden rather than add to it.

“Gojo likes trouble as much as he likes wit. Stay away from him and pick someone else.” He pauses, opening his mouth as he weighs his next words with delicacy. “I imagine you have a line of suitors with far more promise than Gojo hoping to escort you to the festival.”

Nanami’s voice is soft, almost wistful, wrapped around an overwhelming cluster of resignation that makes your heart clench painfully in your chest. His eyes are fixed on the horizon as your horses walk side by side, but you can see a tightness around his mouth, a tension in his jaw that speaks volumes.

“I haven’t really paid much attention, to be honest,” you admit, surprised at his sudden remark. You try to keep your tone light and nonchalant, praying he can’t hear the slight tremor, the silent truth that threatens to spill from your lips—that the only man you truly notice is him. Every day, all the time, from sunup to sundown, it’s always Nanami Kento.

Nanami hums thoughtfully, fingering the sharp cut of his jaw. “That fellow from the saloon a few weeks back? He seemed taken with you.” He pulls in a deep drag, sunset orange ebbing to life at the tip.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. The memory of that particular encounter was both amusing and exasperating. “He was three sheets to the wind, Nanami. Claimed to know my drink of choice and got it wrong when he recommended scotch, of all things.”

Nanami exhales a smoky breath, the wisps ghosting around a smirk that makes him look statuesque with the rolling plains behind him. “You prefer moonshine,” he muses, “The kind Kilmer makes, if I’m not mistaken.”

Your heart skips a beat at his casual observation. Moonshine isn’t exactly legal in town, but when the bartender Kilmer works the saloon on Wednesday nights, most of the residents ask for his prized moonshine if no deputies are around. Of all the things for him to pay attention to, your drink of choice seems like such a small, insignificant detail.

You bite the corner of your lip to keep from breaking into a wide smile, belly warm at the thought.

“Not like I can admit to that,” you tease, digging your teeth harder into your bottom lip as the simmering grows in your stomach. “Aren’t you supposed to be upholdin’ the law?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you want to snatch them back. You’re aware of how much pressure the sheriff places on himself. How he feels unworthy of the badge on his chest. There has never been a day in your knowing him where you felt he was undeserving. Of the town, of all of its citizens, of you. If you could turn his face to a mirror and stand by his side while you tell him just how deserving he is, you would in a heartbeat.

Nanami’s smile fades slightly, a heavy weariness etching onto his features. He takes another drag and turns his head away as he exhales. “This town is small, and times are hard. Sometimes…moonshine is all someone can afford if they need to get away from the world for a while.” He pauses, his eyes meeting yours in the moonlight. “A good lawman knows when to look the other way for the sake of his people.”

It’s times like these when you admire the man Nanami is. He’s rough around the edges and stern with the law, but he’s also empathetic enough to know when some rules should be lax based on those they affect. Maybe he could think the same about you? Maybe he could understand your self-imposed noble acts and forgive you for causing him so much pain.

Nanami clears his throat, seemingly eager to change the subject. “The man at the general store two months ago? He could hardly string two words together around you.”

“He was at least five years younger than me,” you counter, giggling at his persistence. “Hardly appropriate. What will the town think?”

“That you’re incredibly picky—” he starts, but you cut him off with a playful swat to his arm.

“Or maybe,” you chuckle with a playful roll of your eyes, “they’ll think I have standards. Is that so wrong, Sheriff?”

“Not at all. Though, I can’t help but wonder what those standards might be.”

Oh.

You’re immediately aware of how dangerous this conversation has become. You’ve never flirted so blatantly before, never with such clear intention. The banter between you and Nanami has always been a harmonious push and pull, as natural as breathing, even though you both treat it as a forbidden dance. But this shift now—it’s palpable, exciting, and terrifying all at once. But the night air, the lingering adrenaline from the cattle drive, that pump of electric fire that pulses through your veins when you can feel free for a moment, all of it makes you bold.

“Someone kind,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder might shatter the moment. “Intelligent also helps, dedicated to his work and cares about the people around him.” You risk a glance, hiding beneath the curtain of your curls. Your heart races, each beat echoing the recklessness that coats your tongue with every word. “Someone who notices the little things…like a lady’s drink preference.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. It’s as if you’ve finally given a voice to the undercurrent that’s been flowing between you, transforming your ocean of subtle flirtation into something more tangible, more precarious.

Nanami’s gaze, usually so controlled, molds before your eyes. In the flickering embers of his cigarette, you see something molten, a desire that slides down your body with liquid arousal. His lips purse around his cigarette, your eyes flickering to the muscle that curls around the filter, watching with rapt attention as he inhales deeply, slowly.

When you slide your eyes up to meet his, your breath catches at the still-burning intensity. Your vision tunnels to the reflective desire in his eyes, the moonlight on his face, the tension that crackles between you like lightning before a storm. It’s almost too much, your chest tightening with still stolen breath in your lungs.

But just as quickly, he looks away, severing the connection and turning to exhale a plume of smoke into the darkness.

“He sounds like a fool.”

The tension breaks like a dam, and you find yourself choking on a surprised laugh, chortling at the full smile he shoots your way as if bashful. He seems like a flirtatious teenager, basking in the attention from his crush, and you hold on to the sight—to the way it’s making you feel.

As your laughter fades and he puts out his cigarette on the heel of his boot, the atmosphere shifts again. The sizzling lust that danced around you both softens into something more intimate, more tender.

The moonlight catches in Nanami’s hair, turning the golden strands liquid silver. No longer the pristine part he maintains, the strands fall in gentle tufts around the tops of his ears and over his eyebrows. Your fingers twitch on the reins of Buttercup, itching to reach out and brush those disheveled strands away, to feel if they’re as soft as they look.

Nanami, soft when he speaks again, almost reverent. “You’d be surprised, you know,” he murmurs, looking at you once more. “Just how many people notice you.”

His words sway in the air, loaded with meaning. You find yourself frozen, caught in the earth of his gaze, the sincerity making your throat dry. Even as your hips move with Buttercup’s trot, it feels like the world narrows to just the two of you, eyes on each other as everything else fades into insignificance.

Suspended in time and bathed in moonlight, you wish you could push a little further, draw out a confession, or make a declaration of your own. You want to stretch this moment into eternity, to live in this space where you only exist as a schoolteacher, and Nanami could put his own happiness first, just for once.

But reality intervenes, as it always does, with a painful wave of guilt that crashes over you. The weight of your secrets, of your double life, of your part in his pain, settles heavily on your shoulders like lead. So, instead of the words you long to say, you offer only a gentle smile, letting the serene silence of the night envelop you both.

As the first glimmers of the town’s lamplights come into view, you allow yourself this moment of peace. You bask in Nanami’s presence beside you, in the rhythm of the horses’ hooves, in the soft ‘plop’ of his Stetson against his back with each step. You breathe in the memory of shared laughter and adventure, storing it away like a precious treasure.

It’s dangerous—this indulgence—you know. Every shared moment, every word, every loaded glance yanks you further into a web of feelings you can’t afford to have. But as you ride side by side through the moonlight, you can’t bring yourself to regret it. Not tonight.

Instead, you hold this memory close to your heart, a keepsake against the long, lonely nights ahead. It’s a bittersweet reminder of what could be, in a world where you aren’t who you are—a world that exists only in these fleeting moments under the vast, star-studded sky.

By the time you clamber up to your doorstep, Buttercup is already resting in her stable, and that terrible feeling of guilt and confusion roars to life in your chest. You wrap your hand around your doorknob before turning to look at Nanami. He’s still there, with messy hair and sweaty skin, as he reaches into his vest for another cigarette. Handsome and otherworldly and right there. He catches your stare as he places the filter between his lips, one eyebrow quirking up in concern.

“Everything alright?” he asks, the unlit cigarette dangling as he speaks. “I’m not leaving until you’re safely inside.”

You wish you could relish in his concern, bathe in his care, and savor the warmth that blooms in your chest. But you’re not sure you’ve even earned it.

“I’m goin’, I'm goin',” you joke, cracking the door as you step one foot inside your home, still angled to him.

“Well, hurry along then,” he insists, a gentle demand lingering beneath. He lights the cigarette, cheeks pulled in as he inhales full-chested and exhales a deep plume of smoke. Through the haze that dances around him, you find mischief as he smirks. “Ma’am.”

The laugh leaves you before you can stop it, rolling your eyes at his deliberate use of the title he knows annoys you. With a final wave, you step inside, closing the door behind you.

The laughter dies on your lips as soon as the door clicks closed and you press your forehead against the cool wood, eyes stinging with the promise of tears. The clop of Flint’s hooves slowly fades as Nanami gets further away from you, and the only thing you wish at this moment is to yank open the door and run to him. To run away from your terrifying thoughts and forget everything.

Next week, when Mr. and Mrs. Phillips leave town, you have another heist planned. It should feel promising. Another chance to do good, to make others happy at the expense of your safety. But the thought sits heavy in your stomach, the lightness you felt moments ago with Nanami leaving in a flourish.

That nagging feeling from this morning, the festering loneliness born from your decisions, finally breaks free now that you have nothing else to distract you. It makes everything so much harder now. The thrill that once drove you feels muted now, overshadowed by something else—something warm and achingly intimate that’s taken root in your chest.

You slide down to the floor, back against the door, bottom lip quivering as conflict rages like an inferno within you. Tomorrow, you’ll have to start preparing. But tonight, you can’t help but wonder if your heart is truly in this anymore.

Thanks for reading! I hope to have part two out in a few days!

[arminsumi]

I love reading your stuff, if you may be so kind, can we get some clingy geto?

I hope you're having a great day! 💕

✎ "i've got the whole world in my arms"

すぐる

note : ahhh i found this buried in the inbox :( omg !! i'm so late but i wrote a little something i hope it nourishes ur heart

"angel... stay a little longer with me, will you?"

you're about to head out after a long night spent cuddling when he says this. and he's clinging to your body, refusing to let you go. your soft chuckling response makes his chest quiver.

"suguru, i've gotta go. my mom expects me to be home soon."

his addam's apple shifts as he swallows. he looks up at your face, eyes clouding with love.

"...please?" he makes a quiet plea.

you sigh and look down at him like you're adoring a puppy. your boyfriend really takes after one with how he heels you in public and cuddles up to your lap when it's just you and him in his cozy apartment.

"...but i told her i'd... aw... don't give me those eyes, suguru... i swear, you're like a baby sometimes."

"yeah... i'm your baby. can't you stay just... mmm... five more minutes?"

you laugh again. his pupils dilate a bit when he stares at your creasing features.

"ah, that tactic? like when you wake up in bed and think "just five more minutes"?"

he lets out a small mhm. it turns into a woeful longing sound when you attempt to recede out of his embrace again. his grip tightens on you.

"dare you to try pull away from me again, 'n i'll — come here — (kisskisskiss, you receive so many cute threatening kisses) try pull away from me like that again and i'll tie you to my bed."

you're giggling into his chest, cheeks feeling toasty. he feels your hair graze under his chin, tickling his skin. it makes his heart lurch.

"baby... i've got the whole world in my arms. how could i ever let you go?"

[misfitgirlwrites]

Leap of Faith | Lucifer M. x Fem!Reader

x reader version of my first-place giveaway piece! Same night lmao, please enjoy, y'all

First time with Lucifer, but you are scared to take that big step and allow yourself to be vulnerable with him.

18+ | Female Reader | SMUT: oral (male & female receiving), dry humping, p in v sex, unprotected sex (fiction is fiction is fiction is fiction), light biting, I think that's everything guys, the x reader version is on the way so get excited 💃🏽 | STILL more sin on the way, I have a fucking threesome to write how'd I get back in this building--(I walked in willingly. Glasses on and all.)

Words: 3.54k

   Angel Dust and Husker watched you seat yourself at the bar, slumping onto the stool and placing your face against the surface.

   "Why the long face, toots?" Angel Dust arched a brow.

   "I messed up." Your response was muffled. "I need your advice."

   "What'd you do?"

   You sighed and lifted your head, "I ran off from Lucifer last night after things got a little...heated. I've been avoiding him all day too."

   "You ran off??"

   "I freaked out! I panicked! I wanted to actually express how I was feeling but I thought that--"

   "--You'd ruin the night and potentially the relationship?" Husker placed a drink in front of you.

   "Exactly. I've never done this. I've never really had the interest until now anyway. It will change everything. Maybe I'll change?"

   "You go with the flow, babe. You're thinking way too much."

   "It's easier said than done."

   "Ya gotta feel confident! You told me you've read some things."

   "Yeah..."

   "Now's the time to test it out! It's not as hard as it seems. Switch your hips, shake your ass a little, and give him the sexy eyes~" Angel Dust cooed.

   "Sexy eyes?" You tilted your head.

   "Ya know," Angel Dust turned to face you, crossing his legs. He leaned forward, locking eyes with you. His half-lidded pink eyes seemed a lot more intense and focused on you, it nearly gave you chills. It was the same way Lucifer looked at you last night. Thinking about that definitely sent a pleasurable shiver down your spine. 

   "Of course, you can do that at the drop of a dime. I've never done that in my life." You groaned and covered your face.

   "You probably do it and don't even notice!"

   "Stop beating yourself up. Everyone starts somewhere and no one starts as an expert. Not even Angel." Husker stated. 

   "You don't know that. I've always been this good." Angel Dust shrugged.

   "Talk to Lucifer and tell him how you're feeling, that's the best start. Nothing bad will happen. Angel is right about one thing, you're thinking too hard. It's obvious you both love each other, so this is nothing." Husker told you.

   You nodded and grabbed your glass. Angel Dust raised his eyebrows. 

   "I thought that was for aesthetic. Is she really--?"

   "It's a virgin drink," Husker said as you downed the glass.

   "I'm ready!"

   "That's the spirit! Go get 'em!" Angel Dust cheered as you left the parlor. "Let's hope she doesn't run off again."

   "We'll know if Lucifer is at the bar next," Huskee mumbled.

~~~

   "Like this?"

   "Almost! That looks good!"

   "...Dad, it's all misshapen."

   "Do you think my first one was perfect?"

   "Yes, actually."

   Lucifer's bedroom door was cracked, you could hear him inside with Charlie. You knocked lightly and poked your head in a bit with a smile.

   Charlie looked back and stood, holding out her rubber duck. The head was a bit smaller than usual and the body was much larger with a few small dents, but from the light purple skin, white hair, and red eyepatch, it was clearly Vaggie.

   "_____! Look!"

   Lucifer looked back as your smile widened, "she's so cute!"

   "You think so?"

   "Vaggie will love it! It has lots of sentiment and you did great on your first try!"

   "Thanks! I have to give it to her! I'll see you guys tomorrow!" A tight hug for Lucifer, then you before Charlie was out of the door, closing it behind her.

   You looked at Lucifer, rubbing your arm. "...Hey."

   Lucifer smiled, but his eyes gave away how worried he was. "Hey." He turned to face you and stood from his seat.

   You both stood in silence for a bit, each second growing more and more tense before you both blurted out. 

   "I'm sorry!"

   "What?"

   You both stared at each other after speaking in unison and you quickly spoke up, "You have nothing to be sorry for."

   "I made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to--"

   "--No. Luci, you didn't make me uncomfortable. It was just me." You began to close the distance between them as you explained, "I got nervous about taking that step with you, not because I don't want to, it's because I know things will be different after. I've never done this before, and I have no experience, I could ruin everything and not even know how. I've never felt so comfortable with someone to even feel the need to do this, and it's a little scary to share a first experience with someone and not know how it will go." You stopped in front of Lucifer and grabbed his hands, caressing them with your thumbs. 

   "I love you so much. I want to do this. My mind is just getting the best of me. Angel says I'm thinking too much." You let out a light chuckle.

   "Maybe a little." Lucifer smiled at you.

   "The last thing I wanted to do was run off. I got overwhelmed."

   "I understand, it's okay. Apology accepted. Are you sure I didn't make you uncomfortable at all? If it's too soon--"

   "I'm sure, my angel." You would never get enough of Lucifer. He was so sweet, caring, and loving, why'd it take you so long to find your true love?

   Lucifer gave you a light tug, pulling you into a hug before pecking your lips, your forehead, and your cheeks, "I love you."

   "I love you too."

   "Ready to take that leap of faith with me?"

   "That's a way to put it." You laughed lightly.

   "You're scared you'll be drastically different, or we'll be drastically different. I can safely promise that won't be the case. You trust me, don't you?"

   "Of course." You nodded. "I don't trust my lack of experience."

   "If you're thinking about that, you're thinking too hard." Lucifer chuckled, staring into your eyes.

   There go the "sexy eyes" again. 

   "Well, then what do I think about, Lucifer?" You inched a bit closer.

   "What would make this moment better for you? Do what comes to mind."

   Your hands moved to the blond's face and you closed the small gap that was left between you two, pressing your lips against his.

   Lucifer's hands moved from your own to your arms. The light pecks got longer and longer after each one until Lucifer couldn't bear to pull away from your lips anymore.

   Don't think, right? What would make this moment better? You hesitantly led you both towards the bed, not breaking the kiss. You both sat down, but you weren't done yet. You placed your hands on his shoulders and pulled your lips away just a bit to position yourself, straddling his lap.

   "Well--R-Right now is definitely an option, but if you needed time to--"

   "No more time needed." You could feel your cheeks heating up before you quickly kissed him again.

   This time, Lucifer's hands found your hips, pulling you in closer and nipping at your lower lip. Your hands quickly went to his face, cupping his cheeks and letting out a small sigh as you melted into the kiss.

   If you had to choose your favorite thing to do, you would always choose kissing Lucifer. Instead of thinking of a good stopping point, you focused on the warm feeling pooling inside of you as Lucifer swirled his tongue around yours before lightly sucking on it. That warm feeling quickly became hot. His hands went under your shirt, caressing the sensitive skin of your lower back before slowly moving up, tracing your sides, and lifting your shirt in the process. 

   You pulled away a bit, lifting the shirt over your head and tossing it to the ground. Your hands went to Lucifer's chest, locking eyes with him as they slid down to the top button of his vest, undoing it. "You next?"

   You held back your small laugh as Lucifer rushed to take off his vest and shirt. Beautiful was the only word that could describe the blond. His porcelain shoulders were covered in a light yellow blush, along with his cheeks. You continued to trail your hands down his chest before kissing him again. The blond's hands were on your bra next, unclasping it, but not pulling away from the kiss to let you take it off just yet.

   Lucifer finally moved from your lips, kissing down your neck, "L-Love. You still want to go further?"

   "Mhm." You felt a bit fuzzy from the kiss and the trail following down your neck and shoulder wasn't helping. You were no stranger to this part of the game, but feeling the growing bulge in his pants almost made you freeze up. Remember what Angel Dust said; you've read things. You have references. 

   The woman gave a slow roll of your hips and took a sharp breath as Lucifer gasped. You quickly found a good rhythm with your hips, leaning in close until their lips were inches apart, "how is this?"

   "Don't stop, please." Lucifer let out a light moan that made you grind down a little harder.

   The friction was amazing for both of them. Lucifer felt rock hard under you now. Each roll of your hips drew a moan or a whimper from the blond, and you weren't exactly quiet yourself. The feeling against your clit had your arousal growing with each movement. 

   "Shit--_____, I can't--"

   Before you knew it, you were lifted by your hips, and their positions were flipped. You were now lying on your back and Lucifer was between your legs. His blond hair was disheveled as he panted, his fingers hooking your pants and panties.

   "I don't mean to cut your exploration short, I'll combust without even making you cum first at this rate."

   That made you blush even more, "well we can't have that, can we?"

   "No, we can't~" Lucifer pulled down both garments, tossing them with your shirt and finally letting you take your bra off as well. "You're so beautiful," his hands roamed your body, cupping your breasts, and pinching your nipples lightly. It was driving you crazy.

   "L-Luci!"

   "Am I teasing? I'm sorry, my angel." The blond's hands went to your thighs. "I'll keep going for the both of us, you just tell me at any time if it's too much." As he spoke, he spread your legs a bit more.

   "I will, Lucifer."

   "Did I already say that I love you?"

   "I'd love to hear it again."

   "I love you," Lucifer's fingers toyed at your entrance. 

   "I-I love you too." You looked at him, "You're still teasing."

   "I am, aren't I?" Lucifer slowly pushed a finger inside of you. "I'll stop now." He started to kiss your inner thigh.

   Your mouth opened slightly as his finger worked slowly, his focus more on leaving marks along the woman's sensitive skin. You could feel the slight pinch from his teeth, nearly leaving you trembling from the sensation. The blond carefully added another finger, curling both of them to stretch you out.

   "Where's your pretty voice?" The blond purred, his kisses trailing down your thigh lower and lower, "Let me hear you." He finally reached his desired destination, letting his mouth latch onto your sensitive bud while he still worked his fingers.

   A loud gasp left you this time. You could feel his forked tongue circling your clit before he began to suck and--

   "Oh my fuck--" Your's body nearly jolted as a moan tumbled from your lips.

   What should you do with your hands? After the thought came, the obvious answer came right after. Your hands slid into Lucifer's hair, earning a shiver and a moan from him once you tightened your grip.

   "Luci! Luci--!"

   That encouraged the blond to pick up his pace. You tugged at the blond strands in your grasp. "Feels good! Feels so good! Luci--!"

   Lucifer slowly removed his fingers and let his tongue delve inside your, instead using his fingers, slick with your arousal to focus on your clit. You were seeing stars. You could feel fire pooling in your lower abdomen as you began to roll your hips up into Lucifer's face. Your thighs were shaking, each flick of his tongue and roll of his fingers made you hotter and hotter. Each moan and praise that fell from your lips simply added fuel to the fire.

   "Gonna cum--"

   "Mhm." Lucifer locked eyes with you, half-lidded and blown out, begging you to cum.

   That was the final straw.

   Your back arched and your eyes closed as your hips jerked. You could feel your body pulsing, pleasure rippling through you as you came undone. Lucifer didn't move, slowing his movements to ride out your orgasm. He only pulled away once he felt the woman moving.

   The blond lifted his head, licked his lips, and smiled.

   "That was amazing." You were still steadying your breathing, smiling back at him. "Let's keep the show going~."

   A gentle push. Lucifer let you take the lead, squirming a bit once you were the one settled between his legs. You decided to start slowly, running your hands up his thighs to reach the waistband of his pants.

   A shaky breath left his lips, "m-my love. You don't have to--"

   "I'd like to return the favor." You began to pull his pants down, "let me help you feel good?"

   Lucifer couldn't possibly say no to that. He swallowed harshly, eyes never leaving you as you continued. Once his pants were off, You took a small breath. Whatever you thought you felt earlier was very much an understatement to the outline of the bulge you were seeing. The boxers didn't stay on long after that.

   You couldn't tear your eyes away even if you wanted to (you didn't). Lucifer's cock stood at attention, precum beading at the tip, urging you to continue. Your hand slowly wrapped around him and you felt him tense up under you.

   One stroke. Two, and his hips were already bucking into your strokes. You leaned in closer at a snail's pace and just when Lucifer thought he needed to beg, a loud moan left him instead when your tongue slowly dragged up the base of his dick to the weeping tip.

   "Fuuuuck! W-Who's teasing now, huh?"

   "Just a tiny bit~" You kept stroking as you wrapped your mouth around the tip, languidly circling it with your tongue before beginning to bob your head.

   It was your turn to enjoy hearing Lucifer's moans like your own little symphony as you did your best to please him. You began to take more and more of him in your mouth as Lucifer gripped the sheets under him.

   "K-Keep--"

   "Hmm?"

   "Shit! Baby," Lucifer's moans aroused You further than you thought was possible. You picked up your pace, pulling your head up a bit to focus on the blond's twitching tip.

   "Baby--" he repeated.

   Your tongue circled the tip of his cock before you began to suck. The blond's hips bucked and he cried out.

   "ShitShitShit! That's--So good--You're so good, baby--"

   You could feel him throbbing in your warm mouth. You moved your hand a bit faster, drinking in the moans and praises that left the Demon King's lips. Nothing more mattered than seeing Lucifer come undone.

   "Cumming! I'm gonna--"

   "Mhm~" You mimicked your boyfriend as he tumbled over the edge. You took each drop of cum and made sure none went to waste, swallowing his release as you kept stroking him, slowing your pace again. 

   Lucifer's chest was heaving, he looked completely sex-drunk, and you couldn't get enough of it.

   "How was that?" You asked.

   "Do you really feel the need to ask?"

   You were on your back again before you could respond. Lucifer hovered over you, strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. "Are you still up for this, my love?"

   The woman nodded, grabbing Lucifer's face. "I need you inside me."

   Lucifer let out a shaky "fuck" before kissing you again, beginning to position himself. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in close as you felt him brush against your slit. It wasn't long before he was slowly sinking into you. You felt like you could feel each inch of him until he bottomed out inside of you. You tensed up a bit and Lucifer buried his face into your shoulder.

   "F-Fuck--Are you alright?"

   A sharp nod. You were just full. Completely filled with Lucifer in a way you'd never been before, it was almost overwhelming. "Just need to s-sit." You managed to respond verbally. 

   "Take as long as you need," Lucifer assured you.

   Once you felt adjusted enough, your body began to relax. You gave a small roll of your hips as you loosened your grip. "You can move now." You told him. 

   Lucifer's movements were slow as his hips pulled back and connected with yours again. His head didn't move from the nape of your neck, a moan falling from his lips. His rhythm was slow and careful, not wanting to end things too soon, or worse, hurt you in any way. The blond could stay like this with your tight walls wrapped around him for the rest of eternity. Was planning for next time already a bad thing? Of course, he didn't think so. 

   "Lucifer," Your hands found their way up his back, making his rhythm stagger a bit. You tangled your fingers in his hair again. "Faster, please."

   The careful pace the King of Hell worked so hard to set was broken at record speed. Pleasure began to build for both of them. The familiar heat building in your core was returning, a hand moving down between their bodies, only to be stopped by Lucifer. He leaned in close, drinking in the moans and whines that left your swollen lips before speaking, his voice low in your ear.

   "Let me." His hand trailed down instead, not taking long to reach where you were headed. Lucifer rubbed at the bud with firm circles, his thrusts keeping a consistent pace. The added stimulation almost made your eyes roll back. Your walls wrapped tighter around Lucifer and his rhythm began to stagger again.

   "Baby,"

   You moaned out in response. No one's voice should be as sinful as his.

   "So good. So good, angel." The blond whimpered out.

   "Luci, please!” You could feel that you weren't going to hold out for much longer. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in as his fingers began to work faster. "Gonna cum!"

   "Cum for me. Please cum for me, let me feel you--Shit--I-I'm close myself--" His thrusts were beginning to pick up speed as he started to kiss and suck at your neck. You tugged at his hair harder, earning a muffled moan from him. 

   "LuciLuciLuciLuciLuci--" His name fell from your lips like a broken prayer as the tightening band finally snapped. 

   This was somehow more intense than the orgasm you'd just had. Your voice was taken from you, mouth open as your back arched and your pulsating walls tightened around Lucifer's cock.

   "There you go. Fuck--So good--You're so good. I--" He was throbbing inside you now, both hands gripping the thighs that were wrapped tightly around him, his claws lightly digging into the supple flesh. His eyes closed, mouth slacked as loud moans escaped him. He was so close. You decided to give him the push he needed. 

   "Please. Let me feel you, Luci~"

   "D-Don't say things like that--"

   "Cum inside me, please."

   "Shit! _____--" Nail in the coffin. One buck of the hips, then another before the blond was burying himself as deep as he could. His cock twitched and his teeth were at the nape of your neck, not fully sinking in, but certainly enough to leave a mark regardless. A string of nearly incoherent praises left him as he came undone.

   Sudden darkness in the room forced you to focus in your euphoric state. Lucifer's wings had sprouted, fluttering slightly with each tremble of his body as his tail whipped behind him before it wrapped itself around your leg. Your hands slowly moved up in his hair, feeling the base of his horns as his body finally began to relax. The two lay in their positions for a few moments longer, waiting for their breathing to even out before Lucifer slowly pulled out of you. You locked eyes with the blond, staring into the yellow you were met with. Your hands moved down to his face. 

   "How was that for a leap of faith?"

   Lucifer laughed, closing his eyes. You smiled and laughed as well as he responded, "A leap for sure, but I'll never complain. You were amazing, my love."

   "I should be saying that to you." You noticed that his tail was still wrapped around your leg and his wings still enveloped them completely. You leaned up a bit and pecked his lips before speaking, "You don't seem tired at all."

   Surprisingly enough, neither was you. The blond simply shrugged in response, leaning in to peck your lips once more, "How could I possibly get tired of you? Are you asking because you want to indulge me some more?" With that, he was lowering himself between your thighs again and the action alone set you ablaze.

   Now how could you say no to that?

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