#and she will roast them right back

[likedaylighht]

There was a middle age lady that came into the store this week who was an absolute delight, she was so kind and so funny, I can’t stop thinking about her

[andmineisyellow]

✨Two very unserious people✨

[spnintheyearofourlord]

I know in my heart Sam and Jess bullied each other so hard

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

everyone knows dr. zayne is cool as a cucumber, and it's a given for him that you're known as his wife, but when a fresh-faced new resident seemingly makes a move on you... what will he do?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, jealousy (a very jealous zayne, in fact), making out in his office, crack, fluff, hunter!reader, you and zayne have a daughter

note: inspired by that one kim min-kyu scene in business proposal :D this is actually an extension for nocturne of twilight and dawn's first light but can also be read as standalone

You hadn't seen your husband for two weeks.

There was a spring on your step when you entered Akso Hospital right after your long intercity mission. You had acquired some bruises and they weren't anything serious, so you figured you’d just have Greyson treat them. Besides, it gave you the perfect excuse to hand him some cookies as a souvenir.

And, of course, ask him to ring for Zayne to meet you once he had the time.

"Miss, do you need help?"

But a curious voice addressed you when you loitered around in the lobby, and you turned around to find a bright-faced young man with red hair and wearing doctor's coat.

"Ah, yes, I want to meet Dr. Zayne," you smiled. "Or Dr. Greyson will do."

The young doctor perked up at the names you mentioned. "Oh, are you a patient? Do you have an appointment already?"

"Hmm, no, actually I am—"

You halted mid-sentence before the words his wife slipped out, rethinking your choice. You knew of Zayne's infamous reputation in the hospital, and while almost everyone in his floor knew you, this new doctor didn't, and you thought it was best to leave it that way.

"Yeah, I already have an appointment," you nodded, plastering an thin smile. "Just tell Dr. Greyson that Y/N wants to meet him."

"Right, right, I'll page him now..." he mumbled, pulling out his pager and his phone. "I'll text him too..."

"Thank you."

"O-oh, Miss! Wait!" the young man called after you in a hurry when you turned around. "I've noticed it for a while, you have a cut on the side of your lips..."

"Ah, this..." Your fingers instinctively brushed the dried blood on your lips. You hadn’t thought the small cut was noticeable. "Yes, it’s from earlier—"

"Actually, I’m an ER resident!" he interrupted with a bright grin. "Let me treat you first!"

Caught off guard by his enthusiasm, you barely had time to react as he gently but firmly guided you towards the emergency room.

"Dr. Zayne! Dr. Zayne! Your wife is here~!"

Zayne had barely stepped into his office after a grueling surgery when Greyson barged in, all too casually, delivering the news with a grin. "She’s waiting in the lobby!"

He blinked, slightly taken aback. "Oh?"

You're back? He pulled out his muted phone, checking the notifications. Sure enough, you’d sent him a message an hour ago, letting him know you’d safely landed in Linkon.

His little, snarky wife. For the past two weeks you had been away, the house had felt lonelier. Sure, his daughter—who resembled you in personality, no less—was a bundle of sunshine and adorable beyond words, but without you, there was always that subtle void in the air.

Or maybe it wasn’t the house at all? Maybe it was just him—utterly, hopelessly whipped.

"Why isn’t she coming up to my office?" he asked suddenly, noticing the odd detail.

"Hmm, yeah, and it’s weird... why did the new resident say she’s asking for me?" Greyson mused, turning toward Zayne. "Don’t you want to meet her instead? Whatever she needs me for, I’m sure you could handle it."

Zayne promptly left his office and took long strides toward the elevator. As the doors started to close, he even half-sprinted, calling out to the person inside to hold it for him.

Okay, maybe he was a little too eager, but was it really so wrong to be this excited to see his wife again when the two of you had been apart for two weeks?

...then again, you didn't need to know. You would roast him to bits should you know he missed you this much.

Zayne got off at the lobby, expecting to find you there— only to find the usual flow of hospital staff and visitors. He was about to call you when he wandered past the emergency room and turned the corner—and that’s when he got his shock of the day.

There you were. But not alone.

With a guy.

Whose hand is touching your lips.

"It must be tough being a hunter, huh?"

The red-haired resident carefully tended to your bruised arm, wrapping it in a fresh bandage as you sighed, thinking back to the mission. "Yeah, there are definitely some hard days..."

"But despite all that, you still keep yourself in shape!" he remarked, eyeing your toned arms with a hint of admiration.

You let out a sheepish laugh, remembering those pull-ups sessions with Zayne. "Haha, that's because my husband makes sure I'm getting enough exercise..."

"You're married?!" His voice was filled with disbelief, and it caught you off guard, yet he grinned afterwards. "Wow! Is he a hunter too?"

You would've never guessed, boy. This resident doctor was cute, you thought, ever so curious at everything. You could only imagine the look on his face if you told him that the Dr. Zayne was your husband.

You were about to refute it when his fingers brushed against your lips. "Oh, sorry, let me apply some ointment here first..."

His touch felt cool to your lips and you were momentarily stunned at the contact— but then a gruff cough startled you so much you almost jumped.

The towering figure of your husband behind him. Zayne's dark gaze was fixed on the man in front of you, like he could murder the poor guy with just a look.

"Z-Zayne...?" you squeaked against the ointment on your lips, and the resident quickly turned behind him in surprise, hastily greeting him, "Oh, Dr. Zayne!"

Zayne shot the poor man a single, pointed look before his gaze shifted to you, clearly unamused.

He suddenly grabbed your hand and, without sparing the resident another glance, swiftly pulled you away. The other guy was left standing there, speechless, as Zayne led you off, leaving him in the dust.

. . .

"Zayne!"

Oh, how he actually missed his name coming out from your lips.

"Are you done with your schedule?" you asked as he pulled you into the elevator, confusion evident in the way you tilted your head. But when he didn’t answer, you glanced down at his firm grip on your arm, suddenly realizing something. "Wait, no... are you angry?"

Sigh. It irked him so much, actually. Because, how could you, after weeks—

No, he actually knew he was being irrational. He shouldn’t overreact like this just because someone else touched you. But why is he so annoyed, still?

"Wait, why?" you kept asking, wide-eyed, as the two of you stepped out and made way towards his office. "I'm not injured! I'm fine! It's just some bruises—"

Without a word, Zayne pulled you into his office, swiftly locking the door behind him. Before you could say another word, he cornered you against the wall, and you fell silent instantly.

It had been a while since he’d seen you this way—stunned, caught off guard, and utterly silent under his gaze. He studied your face closely, watching the way your breath hitched as the tension between you both thickened.

It sparked something inside him seeing you like this, a sense of satisfaction that he couldn’t quite explain, but one he welcomed nonetheless.

That was when he saw the blood on your lips. "Did you get punched in the face?"

"Y-Yes, but— it's nothing severe!" you defended, trying to convince him. "It's such a small cut anyway!"

He frowned. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"What? Hey, I was about to ask Greyson, but—"

That got him frown even deeper, even irate. "Why Greyson? When you come home with any injuries, you come to me, not anyone else."

You let out a resigned sigh, slumping your shoulders in defeat. "Because I know you'll fuss over me, duh."

"I don't fuss," he retorted.

"You do," you shot back, pursing your lips. "You try to act like this cool, calm robot all the time, but you always drone on and on whenever you patch me up. You're worried, it shows."

Zayne huffed, shifting his gaze away from you as he felt his face burn. Was he that obvious? How could he not, though, when you managed to get hurt so often and yet acted so innocent about it?

Then as if inspired, you caught on immediately. Your eyes sparkled, and a mischievous smirk tugged at your lips. "Wait, just now... don't tell me... Are you jealous?"

Damn.

"Heh, Dr. Zayne, really?" Your voice was playful now, mocking him. "Whoa, how can this be?"

How had you figured him out so easily?

You continued in a sing-song voice, putting both hands on your chest, "Ah, my heart flutters! My husband is apparently—"

Enough. This time, his patience snapped.

He didn’t hesitate even for a moment. A low growl escaped him, and in one swift motion, he crashed his lips against yours, silencing you with the most effective method he could think of.

"Mmph!" You gasped in surprise, the teasing words at the end of your tongue completely forgotten. His gray eyes gleamed. Been too long, he thought, and now he was making sure you knew just how badly he craved this.

The kiss was searing as he deepened it, his tongue seeking yours with urgency. "Hngh!" You let out a feeble whine when he teased you by biting your lips.

Zayne held back a snort. One of his hand then strayed inside your hunter uniform, unclasping your bra with a flick.

"—?!" Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening, and before you could process it, he pulled away. But you were far from right in thinking it was over. The dangerous gleam in his eyes kept you tense as he swiftly removed his glasses...

...before he pulled you back towards him and claimed your lips once again.

With a swift, commanding motion, he guided you toward his desk. His papers scattered at the sudden movement, but he had you bent over it regardless, forcing your body to arch. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you firmly against him, while his right hand fondled your breasts, repeatedly squeezing, palming and switching between them.

"Mmm...!" You let out a strangled moan, instinctively holding onto his shoulder, feeling the way how he groped you ignited your core. "Ahh..."

Your body was tantalizing as always. Hardened and sometimes bruised from your work it may be, but to Zayne, you were still beautiful as ever.

When you gasped for air, he decided he was done with your swollen lips. His lips then trailed down to your neck, sucking hard on it, creating a squelching sound that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"W-what's... gotten into you...?" you breathed out, tangling your fingers in his hair, hyperaware of his hands still roaming over your nipples.

In response, he nibbled at your skin and flicked your breasts at the same time, causing you to freeze and draw a sharp, hitched breath. "Haah...!"

Unbeknownst to you, his lips curled wickedly at your reaction, and he continued to pepper your neck with series of wet sucks as if to mark you altogether. You writhed under him, whiny and sighing, relishing his hot breath on your skin.

You were utterly at his mercy, pliant and helpless in his hands. There was a deep satisfaction in knowing he was the only one who could bring you, his lawfully wedded wife, to this state—

Still, he wouldn’t allow you to be indecent in a place like this. When he finally pulled back, he was breathing heavily, eyes dark with lust, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of your jaw. "Don’t tempt me," he muttered, voice low and raspy.

You gazed up at him, your heart pounding. "Zayne..." you whispered, a whine broke through the heat on your flushed face.

His expression softened just enough, a flicker of tenderness cutting through the intensity. Pretty. That’s what you were, undeniably so. How he had missed out on you so long once was his greatest regret.

Carefully, he helped you sit upright, his touch gentle as he clasped your bra and began buttoning up your uniform, disheveled from his earlier ministrations.

The gentle way he touched you was a stark contrast to how it was earlier. "Is that a new way to treat busted lip?" you nudged his collar, feeling a little braver now.

"For bad wives, yeah."

"I'm not a bad wife! Just disobedient on some occasion."

Zayne's fingers brushed your face as he finished with your uniform, his dark-gray eyes steady on you. You pouted.

"You're the one who's bad," you accused with slight resentment, not missing a beat as the heat between your legs started to dissipate. "Leaving me unfinished like that."

"Hmm? Am I?" he murmured, the faintest amusement in his tone.

"You have to take responsibility tonight, you big meanie," you mumbled, your pout deepening as you avoided meeting his gaze.

Zayne snorted at the sight of you—so precious in his eyes, his thumb lightly grazing the corner of your lips in a gesture so tender it made your heart skip, before whispering in your ear:

"Well, if your voice won't wake our daughter, that is."

Epilogue

Not long after, just as you had gathered yourself and were preparing to leave the hospital to head home, a sudden knock at the door of his office startled you both.

Quickly, you moved to sit on the patient’s seat, feigning nonchalance as you braced yourself for whoever was on the other side. Zayne reached for the door, but before he could unlock it, a familiar voice called out.

"Excuse me!" the resident's voice sounded a bit hesitant but firm. "Dr. Zayne, the miss left her handbag earlier!"

Zayne let out a low, irked sigh. You glanced at him curiously, watching as he opened the door and came face-to-face with the redheaded resident.

Without a word, he extended his hand, and the resident blinked before handing over the bag.

"I-is the miss still here?" the young doctor asked, almost intimidated by his unfriendly gaze.

"Ma'am," Zayne corrected, his voice flat.

"Huh?"

"Call her ma'am. She's someone's wife."

"O-oh, and her husband is—"

"Me. I am her husband."

Your eyes widened in surprise at the matter-of-fact exchange, heat rising to your cheeks as Zayne’s words hung confidently in the air. He curtly thanked the poor resident before slamming the door shut in his face.

Your jaw practically hit the floor. "Zayne!" you gasped, staring at him as he turned back towards you, entirely unbothered.

Your husband was as cold as the snowman he often made, but somehow the way he boldly declared he was your husband was just so him that it made you so giddy.

You tilted your head, crossing your arms with a playful smile. "You’re really jealous, huh? How?"

He didn’t answer, his gaze still fixed elsewhere, most definitely trying to save his dignity.

You chuckled softly, stepping closer to him with a teasing sway. Your fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, turning him to face you, and you winked at him mischievously.

"Well, I’m all yours. But if it makes you feel better, maybe I’ll stay away from any ER residents for a while~"

[sunniques]

— ¡ 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 !

in which your sister’s boring party takes an exciting turn.

❥ PAIRING: lee heeseung x female reader x park sunghoon

❥ GENRE: threesome au, smut

❥ WORD COUNT: 3.8k

❥ CW/TW: threesome, infidelity, voyeurism, small age gap, oral sex (f & m), unprotected sex, spit roasting, multiple creampies

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read.

“Y/N, will you do me a favor?”

You roll your eyes at the question as irritation crawls up your skin. It’s one of the questions you hate the most, especially coming from your sister. “Another one?”

“Don’t be a bitch. You staying for my party is not even a real favor,” she scowls at you. 

“It actually is because mom and dad won’t let you have it unless I’m here,” you scowl back as your irritation grows. “And I literally had plans today.” 

“I told you you could invite your little friends,” she snaps angrily. “It’s not my fault they didn’t want to come!”

You don’t blame your friends for not wanting to hang around your sister and her friends. They were vapid and annoying. Tolerating them was always a challenge, but at least you would be able to hide in your room this time.

“Whatever. What’s the favor?”

“Will you hang out with Sunghoon when he gets here? He’s gonna feel awkward without Gayoung around, and he actually seems to like you.”

“Heeseung isn’t coming?” You ask, surprised that the two friends who are always attached at the hip aren’t coming together.

“No, he is, but…” your sister’s expression turns a bit bashful. “We’re probably gonna be hanging out alone, and I don’t want Sunghoon to feel awkward. You know how he is.”

You frown at how thoughtless her actions are. Some friend she is. 

It’s likely that Sunghoon declined her invitation since his girlfriend won’t be coming, but obviously your sister’s obsession with Heeseung pushed her to berate him into coming and bringing her crush along. She didn’t handle rejection well which is why she’s still latching onto the hope that Heeseung will finally see her as more than a friend.

A losing battle if you ever saw one.

“Fine,” you say slyly. “I’ll make sure Sunghoon has a great time.”

Sunghoon is the first to admit that he’s a little bit of a pushover. He’s always been one to go along with other people’s whims even if he didn’t necessarily want to. That’s how he ended up at a pool party he didn’t even really want to be at. Initially, he came because he was unable to reject his friend’s invitation. Literally. She didn’t take no for an answer, and she insisted that he bring Heeseung, who she’s liked for a long, long time.

Now, Sunghoon had no problem being a wingman, but unfortunately for everyone involved, Heeseung doesn’t feel the same way about his friend. It’s painfully obvious to their entire friend group, and if Sunghoon hadn’t mentioned that you were also going to be at the party, he knew Heeseung wouldn’t have agreed to come. Somehow his friend doesn’t realize that her longtime crush likes her younger, prettier sister. A cruel irony, really.

“Don’t leave,” Heeseung manages to say through gritted teeth before he’s pulled away by his admirer to do shots.

Sunghoon feels awkward at first. He hardly knows anyone aside from Heeseung and the girl clinging onto him. He’s always been bad at small talk which is all he would be able to have with some of the familiar faces surrounding him. Luckily for him, a very pretty knight in shining armor saves him just as he’s about to check his weather app.

“Hoonie!” You exclaim happily as you throw your arms around his neck affectionately. “I’m glad you came! How have you been?”

Usually, it’s awkward for him when people he hasn’t spent a lot of time around try to act friendly, but with you it’s different. You’re always genuine with him, and right now he can tell you’re trying to make him feel less uncomfortable. It’s something Sunghoon has always appreciated about you. You’re so sweet and considerate that he’s never had any issues getting along with you. That’s what makes it so easy for him to talk to you.

“I’ve been good,” he gives you a pretty smile that makes you swoon internally. “I just finished up my internship last week which means I can finally enjoy my summer.”

“That’s great!” You say in a congratulatory way. “I’m surprised, though. I didn’t think my sister’s parties were your idea of enjoying summer.”

“They’re not, but Gayoung said I should come since she’s out of town.”

You don’t ask about his girlfriend because you don’t really care and because anything else you might say will lead back to your sister basically forcing him to come because she wants to hook up with his best friend. Sunghoon is nice enough not to mention that at least.

Taking a glance around your backyard, you realize that now would be the perfect opportunity to get away without being noticed. 

“Let’s go inside,” you tell him after your sister’s friends start to get more rowdy in the pool.

Sunghoon can’t ignore how pretty you are or how good you look in your skimpy bikini. So he nods like he’s bewitched. Your grin is lovely, and he refuses to deny how right it feels when you grab his hand to lead him into the house. Maybe it’s not right for him to allow you to do so, but Sunghoon would do anything to please you. That includes following you into your room.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you go to sit on your bed. “No one will notice we’re gone.”

Sunghoon watches, entranced as you sit on the edge of your bed with your alluring smile. Before he can think of something to say, you’re slipping off your bikini bottoms like it’s not fucking scandalous. His cock twitches when you toss the tiny swimsuit at him and it lands on his shoulder. You spread your legs and part your pretty folds to show Sunghoon how wet you are. He might’ve thought he was dreaming, but the throbbing ache in his cock reminds him that this is all too real.

You’ve been horny all day, and having your sister’s pushover friend fall into your lap like this is an opportunity you can’t just ignore.

Plus, you’re only doing her a favor like she asked.

“Look how wet you made me, Hoonie,” you say through a needy whine. 

“Y/N,” Sunghoon groans, feeling his cock come alive at the sight of your pretty pussy all spread just for him.

“I want you to fuck me. Right here, right now.”

Sunghoon’s cock twitches, and just as he contemplates on how to navigate this delicious development, you say something that makes his control snap.

“You know you want to.”

You smirk when Sunghoon quickly discards his swim trunks before yanking you to the edge of the bed. His long, thick cock is practically throbbing, and you lick your lips in anticipation. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. I didn’t know you were such a slut.”

Your grin is tantalizing, and Sunghoon can’t resist anymore. Gayoung is never this forward when they’re intimate. Maybe it’s because she was a virgin before she started dating him or maybe it’s because she doesn’t like sex as much as he does. Either way, Sunghoon can’t care about his prude little girlfriend at the moment. Especially with how you’re dripping all over yourself and eyeing his cock like it’s the one thing you want more than anything.

And it is. Right now, there’s nothing you want more than Sunghoon’s big dick drilling into you. Your cunt pulses just knowing he’s about to fill you up and stretch you out on his cock.

“Are you sure you can handle it? You think I’m gonna fit in this tight little hole, baby?” Sunghoon wonders as he slaps his cock down on your wet pussy. “Fuck. I’m gonna stretch this pretty pussy out nice and good.”

Again, Sunghoon slaps his leaking cock on your pussy and gently slides it between your slick folds. His fat tip brushes against your clit and makes you whine in need. He gives you a teasing smirk before he slowly sinks into you. The moan you let out is almost as loud as his own groan. Your cute little pussy is hot and tight and so fucking wet. Sunghoon knows that he won’t last long if he just starts pounding into you like he wants.

“God, you’re so big,” you mewl, eyes rolling back when he finally bottoms out inside you.

Sunghoon fucks you slowly, using his thumb to rub your puffy bud. The sounds you’re letting out are driving him insane, and the way your molten pussy grips him is like absolute heaven. This is already better than any of the sex he’s had with his girlfriend, and he knows this definitely won’t be the last time he has you like this. 

You squeal when your bikini top is abruptly yanked off. The way Sunghoon’s dark eyes are locked on your bouncing tits makes you clamp down on his dick and soak it with more of your arousal. Just seeing your juices painting the length of his cock makes him throb inside you.

“Shit. Are you already close?”

“Mhm, yeah,” you whine, moving your hips to grind your pussy on his cock. “Your cock feels too good, Hoon.”

Even though he’s fucking you slow, you’re creaming on his cock in seconds and with a loud cry of his name. You beg him to keep fucking you, and that’s how Sunghoon finds out that cumming once is never enough for you. He grins, loving how cockdrunk you already are. He’s more than happy to indulge you, not caring that he’s betraying two of the closest people in his life by indulging himself in your tight pussy.

That’s why he starts drilling his meaty cock into you at a punishing rhythm, letting you feel every single inch of his hard dick. The only thing Sunghoon can feel is your cunt wrapping perfectly around him, his leaking tip slamming into your spongy cervix every single time he snaps his hips. He plants needy, open-mouthed kisses all over your neck before he goes further down, desperately latching onto one of your pretty nipples. You cry out loudly when he flicks and sucks on the sensitive bud before gently biting it.

Sunghoon’s thrusts are deliciously brutal. It’s like you’re his personal fucktoy and he’s only using your little hole to make himself cum. His tongue circles your nipple before he starts suckling it again, desperately trying to fuck his cock deeper inside you. His hips crash against yours, slamming into you without care until he’s shooting ropes of thick, hot cum right into your awaiting pussy. 

Meanwhile, his best friend is downstairs having the worst time of his life.

Heeseung knows what’s going on. From the moment he got separated from Sunghoon, he saw how you went and cozied up to him. How you pressed your pretty tits together and gave him all of your attention. He can admit he’s jealous. It’s impossible for him not to be when he’s wanted you from the moment your sister introduced you to him.

Your sister had been talking his ear off when he saw you leading Sunghoon inside. Heeseung didn’t hear a single word she said from that point on because his eyes were locked on you and Sunghoon’s intertwined hands.

At the first opportunity he gets, Heeseung goes inside to see just what you and Sunghoon are up to. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, feeling his cock twitch. Despite all the noise from outside, he can still hear you clearly. The way you’re begging, moaning, cumming. Heeseung is jealous and harder than he’s ever been in his life. 

Looking back to make sure no one decided to come inside, Heeseung slowly climbs up the stairs. He stops in front of the wide open door to your room. It’s sick, but he stays to watch Sunghoon fuck your brains out. You sound and look so sweet, just like he imagined you would. Heeseung palms his dick over his swim shorts as he admires your beautiful body and how it bounces every time Sunghoon fucks his cock into you. The remnants of spit on your hard nipples make him envious that his best friend got to taste them first.

“If you’re going to keep staring, you might as well come in.”

It takes you a moment to realize Sunghoon isn’t talking to you. Your dazed mind slowly catches up and finally notices Heeseung standing in the doorway. Seeing him there with a huge bulge in his swim shorts while looking at you so heatedly makes you clench down Sunghoon’s cock, staining it with more of your cream.

You whine when Heeseung walks over to the bed. Especially since Sunghoon keeps fucking you like his friend isn’t watching. It’s nasty, but you feel so good because you love being on display. Heeseung gets on the bed and starts to rub and pinch your puffy clit.

“You’ll let me watch, right, baby?”

It’s easy to nod with a moan. Heeseung smirks and continues to pinch and rub your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your puffy clit is so soft and wet that he thinks he can cum just from touching it.

You can see how hard he is through his trunks, and you remember overhearing your sister and her friends talk about how all of Heeseung’s exes would say how big his dick is. How they all wished they could find out for themselves. You lick your lips and reach over to tug at his shorts. Too bad for your sister and her friends, but you were going to find out first since you obviously can’t pass up this opportunity.

Heeseung doesn’t hide his smirk and helps you take off his swim shorts. He frees his cock easily, and you can’t help but stare. He’s thick and big, easily as big as Sunghoon. You lick your lips and look up at him expectantly.

Like you, Heeseung doesn’t hesitate to take an opportunity that’s in front of him. He taps the tip of his dick against your lips, grinning when you open your mouth eagerly. Sunghoon watches you swallow his friend’s cock with an eagerness that makes his cock throb. He’s never seen anything so hot in his life, and he has to slow down his thrusts because he’s so close to blowing his load. 

“Shit, Y/N. You’re such a good fucking girl,” Heeseung groans, watching your throat bulge as he fucks it. “That’s it, baby. Swallow my cock.”

Your eyes cross when Sunghoon and Heeseung’s thrusts start to sync up. They’re both moaning in tandem as they fuck you, and all you can do is lay there completely fucked out as it happens. It’s easy to cum again as they use you for their pleasure.

“Fuck. I bet her pussy’s nice and tight,” Heeseung hisses in delight. “Cum inside her, Hoon.”

Just hearing those words coming from Heeseung is enough to push Sunghoon over the edge. His head falls back as he empties his load into you. “Fuck, Y/N!” He groans as he fucks his cum deeper into you without stopping.

“That’s it, baby. Take every drop of our cum,” Heeseung moans as cum fills your mouth. 

You’re all panting by the time you’ve ridden out your highs, and you surprise the two friends by asking for more.

Sunghoon smirks as he looks over at Heeseung. “Just wait until you feel this pussy. Our pretty girl’s so fucking tight.”

That’s how you end up on all fours, sandwiched between them. Sunghoon grabs the back of your neck as he smacks his cock against your lips just like his best friend did. You part them with a needy moan, tongue lolling out to entice him. He slaps his leaking tip against the slick muscle with a low groan. God are you hot. Way hotter than his girlfriend could ever be.

“So eager to suck this dick,” he murmurs. “Dirty fucking girl.”

Whining, you lap at the tip of his cock, eagerly tasting the remnants of your orgasm and his cum leaking from the slit. You moan at the taste as you start to lick up and down his cock. 

Your pretty pussy is dripping with Sunghoon’s cum and your own arousal. He sees you get wetter when you fully take his best friend’s cock into your mouth. Seeing you drip with arousal makes Heeseung’s cock throb. Finding out what a needy slut you are just made you hotter in his eyes. You’re absolutely perfect.

“Didn’t expect you to be so greedy, baby,” Heeseung laughs. He rubs his cock across your slit before tapping the head against your swollen clit. With a pleased sigh, he slips his dick inside your fluttering hole. 

Your eyes roll back as you get filled on both ends. It’s a dream to have your mouth full of Sunghoon’s cock and your pussy stuffed full of Heeseung’s dick. The sound of your messy, wet cunt makes Heeseung fuck you harder. Your juices are running down your thighs and his. The wet slapping sounds mix in lewdly with all the moans and groans.

“Fuck, she’s so tight,” Heeseung moans as his hands squeeze your ass. It makes you clench down on the cock spearing you open.

Your eyes take in Sunghoon as he strokes his cock with your throat. His dark eyes filter periodically between you and his friend. He throbs every time he watches Heeseung pound your sopping wet cunt. The two share a filthy smirk while you whimper in pleasure. Your mouth and pussy are stuffed full, and you’ve never felt better.

Heeseung fucks his dick deeper into your cunt with a deep groan. Your slick walls flutter and squeeze his thick cock as he roughly kneads and slaps your ass. Just feeling how tightly you’re gripping him makes Heeseung pump his cock into your clenching pussy with a rough tempo that slams against your g-spot and makes you squeal around Sunghoon’s dick.

Your eyes roll back as Sunghoon shoves his cock deeper down your throat. He hisses at the feeling, cock flexing against your tongue as he keeps rolling his hips. Drool falls in thick strings from your open mouth and slowly drip down the cock you’re sucking. Sunghoon moans and caresses your face, loving how you look so pretty with tears in your eyes and his dick in your mouth.

You’ve never looked so hot, bouncing back eagerly on his friend who’s splitting you open on his cock. Heeseung groans, praises spilling from his lips every time he thrusts his cock back into your sloppy cunt.

“Fuck, baby. You have such a pretty little pussy. All tight and wet just for us,” his words make the coil in your stomach tighten. “Could stuff this sweet pussy all day.”

Your orgasm hits hard and fast. Heeseung grunts loudly, hips stuttering against your ass as your soft pussy walls milk his cock. With a loud whine, your body arches and your eyes roll back in ecstasy as you choke on Sunghoon’s cock. 

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart. Now I’m gonna fill your hot little cunt,” his heated voice sends a sick thrill up your spine.

“God. I’m gonna cream in your sloppy mouth, pretty girl. Swallow it all for me,” Sunghoon says as one of his hands grips the back of your head.

Moaning around his dick, your head and hips move to help them reach their own highs. The two friends grunt and groan as they chase their own releases. Sunghoon spills first, cum thick and hot as it coats your mouth and throat. Heeseung follows not too long after, shooting his load deep inside your spasming cunt. 

As Heeseung slowly starts to pull out of your pussy, he curses under his breath when you pulse and flutter and squeeze him even tighter. “Fuck. This sweet little pussy doesn’t want to let go.”

Regrettably, he pulls out of your clenching heat with a wet schlick, making both of them groan at the noise. It rivals the way you start to choke on Sunghoon’s cum. He too pulls out reluctantly, but not before wiping the tears from under your eyes.

So much cum is leaking out of your pretty holes, and the two friends decide that they’re going to spend the rest of the party stuffing you full.

Heeseung lightly smacks your messy pussy. “Don’t think we’re done yet, baby. The day’s still young.”

Your sister pouts petulantly as she walks upstairs to the restroom. It’s been almost an hour since she last saw Heeseung, and now he’s ignoring all her calls and texts. She hasn’t seen you or Sunghoon either. Briefly, she wonders if you hadn’t kept her friend entertained enough to keep him at the party. If Sunghoon left, then his best friend had definitely followed suit. She scows as she thinks about how she’s going to get you back later. It wasn’t the first time you inadvertently ruined her chances with Heeseung, and she’s sick of it.

Just before your sister can get to her destination, she hears moans. Loud, filthy moans.

They’re obviously coming from your room, and she wonders if some of her guests were using your room to have sex. Fuck. You were going to murder her.

She approaches your room with a purpose, wanting to get whoever it was out of your room before you found out. However, she stops at the doorway when she sees something ten times worse than strangers having sex in your bed.

Her longtime crush is sitting at the edge of your bed, bouncing you on his big cock while her friend kneels in front of you two as he eats your pussy. Heeseung is giving you a filthy kiss as he gropes your tits and helps you fuck his cock. She can see cum dripping down his heavy balls as he splits you open. Sunghoon is holding one of your hands as he laps at your clit. Your sister doesn’t miss the way he’s tugging on his cock while you tug on his hair. He’s moaning into your pussy like he’s never tasted anything better.

Your room reeks of sex, and her heart breaks when she realizes it’s because the three of you have been fucking for a while now. When you finally break the kiss, Heeseung starts to trail wet kisses down your neck, still oblivious to her presence. You, however, lift your head and make eye contact with your horrified sister.

Unlike she expects, you don’t snap out of your sex-crazed lust. You only smirk at her. It’s mean and vicious—a smirk that she’s seen countless times before. Usually, it’s her directing that cruel, victorious smirk at you. But now that the roles have switched, she can feel her heart break.

You toss your head back with a loud moan, not caring that your sister is crying because you’re bouncing on Heeseung’s cock while Sunghoon licks your pussy. If anything, this is her fault for thinking her plans took priority over yours. It’s not like she ever had a chance with either of them, anyway. You were just making her see that once and for all.

And so, instead of confronting the three of you like she should have, your sister turns on her heel and walks away to go back to her party.

[cheftsunoda]

conflict of interest

smau

charles leclerc x lawyer!reader x alexandra saint mleux

in which charles needs a lawyer and everyone on the grid recommends you…the one who reads NDAs like novels, redlines million-dollar contracts with a Montblanc pen, and somehow still finds time to go viral on tik tok for roasting poorly written sponsorship deals. he thinks it’ll be quick—one meeting, a signature, maybe a stern look over a brand clause or two. then you show up in monaco in heels and a tailored suit, quoting the FIA regulations better than his race engineer and making alex laugh harder than he’s seen in months. his Instagram explore page becomes full of edits of you. add in alex, who takes one look at you and says, “she is dangerous.” but won’t stop inviting you to brunch. suddenly, the paddock’s favorite couple has a third problem. or maybe… a third solution.

fc : bella hadid and various pinterest girlies

little draft for you all as I am working on finishing heal your heart rn — enjoy mamas

⚠️not proofread⚠️

—

charles_leclerc

liked by uhavebeenserved, alexandrasaintmleux, carlossainz55 & 859,265 others.

charles_leclerc : proud, proud, proud 🤍 @/lec

scuderiaferrari: 🍦💛

liked by author

alexandrasaintmleux : so proud of you, mon ange!

liked by author

usernameee : need to try asap

uhavebeenserved : congratulations charles! can’t wait to try! 💛

liked by author & alexandrasaintmleux

charles_leclerc : would not have been possible without you! have some on the way to you right now 😉

liked by uhavebeenserved

username0 : who is she??

username20 : big time lawyer in monaco— half the grid has worked with her. she is also on tik tok and makes fun legal content!

arthur_leclerc : im out already

charles_leclerc : literally how— you got like 5 yesterday!

charles_leclerc : fatty

arthur_leclerc : stop arthur slander @/uhavebeenserved HELP

liked by uhavebeenserved

uhavebeenserved : all im hearing is good press for @/lec…if arthur likes it that much its clearly fabulous…and i would be nice to ppl who r giving me free press charles

liked by arthur_leclerc & charles_leclerc

—

uhavebeenserved

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, lando & 1,855,467 others.

uhavebeenserved : i don’t only serve subpoenas but i also serve cunt

alexandrasaintmleux : belle fille 😻

liked by author

uhavebeenserved : ur the most beautiful alexxx

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

username1 : yn would you help me sue my ex for traumatizing me?

uhavebeenserved : absolutely I’ll do it for free

username4 : sjsjsjs I can’t with her

username5 : yn!! any advice on surviving law school?

uhavebeenserved : no distractions, study your ass off and knee any misogynistic men in the nuts :)

username5 : will do mamas. i promise to make you proud

liked by author

username00 : the amount of pure cunt and beauty you exert should be illegal

lando : how does one exactly serve cunt?

liked by author

uhavebeenserved : it is a way of life lando. you will learn eventually little one.

yourbff : god im obsessed with you

liked by author

scuderiaferrari: Nice car😉

liked by author

uhavebeenserved: pretty, ain’t she?

kikagomes : we miss you in the paddock pls come back soon

liked by author

maxverstappen1 : agreed

liked by author

carlossainz55 : need legal advice on if I can sue for emotional distress

uhavebeenserved: is this about f**rari? bc we may have a case carlos

carlossainz55 : 🤐 (yes)

liked by author

redbullracing: we will happily host you, yn!

mercedesamgf1 : pick us!!

mclaren : you’d look great in papaya!

scuderiaferrari: i think we are the obvious choice

uhavebeenserved: omg yes fight over me

username15 : why is half the grid in her comments?

username00 : she is pretty close to most of them as she has represented them before

—

vogue

liked by alexandrasaintmleux & 243,643 others.

vogue : What’s in Her Bag: Court Edition. Monaco based lawyer, YN LN, breaks down her everyday courtroom essentials—from highlighters to Hermès.

username00 : her casual paddock pass in her bag is killing me

username15 : she really said I don’t need this during court but I never empty my bag ever

username10 : multi purpose queen

username7 : so we’re all seeing the paddock pass and Alexandra’s sunglasses right?? ok just checking

username8 : how do you know they r hers?

username20 : Sunglasses last seen on Alexandra in a Milan street style reel 3 weeks ago. Do with that what you will.

username8 : damn ok detective

username20 : plus if you actually watch the video…she literally said “oh these belong to alex, i need to get them back to her.’

username17 : alexandra already likeddddd

username18 : the back of her paddock pass literally says “guest of charles leclerc” hmmm

username0 : they are friends don’t make it what it’s not

username22 : you guys are literally all focused on the wrong things—THERE WAS A PIECE OF PAPER THAT SAID ‘GOOD LUCK MON CHÈRI -C’

username15 : do you know how many men in this world have c names?

username22 : pls stop killing my joy

—

alexandrasaintmleux posted to her story!

seen by charles_leclerc, uhavebeenserved, arthur_leclerc & 232,545 others.

charles_leclerc : wish I could’ve been with my favorite ladies😞

alexandrasaintmleux : we will see you tomorrow pretty boy

uhavebeenserved : best day ever with you pretty angel

alexandrasaintmleux : u r making me blushhh

arthur_leclerc : where was my invite

alexandrasaintmleux: lost in the mail maybe

—

uhavebeenserved added two posts to her story!

{caption 1 : guess where I am???} {caption 2 : @/scuderiaferrari made me do hot laps with @/charles_leclerc…still feel ill}

seen by alexandrasaintmleux, lando, charles_leclerc & 3,375,266 others.

lando : still mad you let charles take you but not me

uhavebeenserved : I value my life

charles_leclerc : hope I didn’t make that pretty head spin too much

uhavebeenserved: ur good I think I still have all my wits about me

uhavebeenserved: I was too busy staring at you to get dizzy

charles_leclerc : your beauty was definitely distracting me- if we would’ve wrecked I’d have to sue you for being too stunning

—

hot laps!

YN slides into the passenger seat, sunglasses on and helmet over her head, calm as ever. Charles is already grinning behind the wheel.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Well I suppose with how much they pay you that you are somewhat decent and won’t kill us.” YN said dryly, tugging on her seatbelt.

Charles lets out a low laugh and turns on the ignition. The car comes alive.

“What was your first impression of me?” Charles asked as he took off down the track without warning.

“Fast. But not in the way you think.” YN said as she gripped the door handle, trying to steady herself.

“That sounds like you’re insulting me.” Charles said with a chuckle.

“You talked way too much in our first meeting. Absolutely rambling.” YN said with a small smile.

“And now?”

“Now you know when to shut up so that sounds like progress to me.”

He raises an eyebrow, cornering harder than necessary.

“If you weren’t a driver, what would you be?” YN asks, setting the cards in her lap.

“I’m not sure but I think I have some legal issues so I’d still need you.” He said with a smirk.

YN chuckled lowly. “Sounds like job security for me.”

“Or a very expensive habit.” Charles stated smoothly.

“Biggest red flag in a person?” Charles asked.

“People who treat rules as suggestions.” YN murmured.

“Uh-oh.”

“Exactly.”

“What’s your red flag?” Charles asked with a cheeky smile.

“I argue for a living and I always win.” YN said.

“Good thing I like a challenge.” Charles glances at her grinning.

“You know you didn’t have to say yes to this.” Charles said as the car started to slow down.

“I didn’t.” I said.

“So why did you?” Charles asked.

“Because I don’t mind the speed when I know who is driving. I already said no to Lando.” YN said causing another laugh from Charles.

“I’ll take that as consent to ask you out to dinner.” He said as he reaches over to help YN unbuckle herself.

“Only if you read the fine print, Leclerc.” She said with a smirk and stepped out of the car.

Towards the end of the video there was a cute clip of Charles helping YN take off her helmet and him smoothing down her hair.

—

alexandrasaintmleux reposted scuderiaferrari’s video with the caption : “only watching for yn, she is funny as hell”

—

alexandrasaintmleux added a post to her story!

{caption 1 : she is always working} {caption 2 : managed to convince y/n to come to brunch with me}

seen by charles_leclerc, uhavebeenserved, scuderiaferrari & 347,246 others.

charles_leclerc : she was literally already up working when I left this morning

alexandrasaintmleux: i know!! i told her she was insane.

charles_leclerc : do not let her pay for herself, use my card.

alexandrasaintmleux: already on it:)

uhavebeenserved : always a lovely day spent with you, mon ange

alexandrasaintmleux: i love youuuuu

—

twitter!

F1gossipgirls: does anyone else think it’s odd that alexandra reposted the hot laps video that YN and Charles were so clearly flirting in and the proceeds to hang out with her all day??

view comments

usernameee : ARE WE FRIENDS? ARE WE FLIRTING? ARE WE THROUPLING?

username5 : alexandra watching her boyfriend flirt with the lawyer then taking the lawyer out for drinks??? no notes. this is cinema.

username7 : guys maybe they are just all friends and alex doesn’t get jealous or doesn’t care

username17 : i could not be friends with someone who is openly flirting with my man like that

username00 : if this turns into a “two girlfriends and a driver” scenario I SWEAR I will never recover

username14 : charles rn trying to understand if he’s being soft-launched into a love triangle or quietly removed from it.

username0 : so is this a friendship? a situationship? a legal partnership with romantic benefits? we need answers.

—

uhavebeenserved added two posts to her story!

seen by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, lando & 2,164,175 others.

lando : still can’t believe you’ll go out with Charles and not me

uhavebeenserved : charles is rather charming and also has a hot girlfriend he is willing to share…what do you have Norris?

lando : i have oscar

uhavebeenserved : as adorable as you both are…no🤗

alexandrasaintmleux: omg I miss you both smmmm

uhavebeenserved : come home rn pretty we miss you too (very very much)

charles_leclerc : best night with you mon amor

uhavebeenserved : love you cha

—

f1gossipgirls

2,364,145 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Charles Leclerc was spotted out in Monaco with Lawyer YN LN — sources say the two had a dinner together and then left in the same car. YN LN was seen leaving his house the next morning and taking his car for a spin. Charles’ long term girlfriend and friend of LN’s, Alexandra, has been in Mexico with her family.

—

username5 : typical charles but I feel horrible for Alex esp after she clearly trusted yn

usernameee : OH WE’RE NOT EVEN PRETENDING ANYMORE.

username17 : me refreshing alexandra’s story every 30 seconds like she’s the press secretary

username20 : and y’all were clowning when she had alex’s sunglasses and a paddock pass in her court bag… WHO’S LAUGHING NOW?

alexandrasaintmleux : cute dress yn !!

liked by author and uhavebeenserved

uhavebeenserved : thanks love! stole it from your closet 🤐

liked by author and alexandrasaintmleux

username14 : okay what the fuck

username22 : I’ve never been more confused in my life

username15 : is this petty or sarcasm or what

—

uhavebeenserved

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 & 4,375,279 others.

uhavebeenserved : yall really know how to fuck up a soft launch but anyways alex and charles r the love(s) of my life and that is all goodbye🥰💕♥️❤️🥰😍

—

alexandrasaintmleux: i love you so so so so much beautiful,, so happy to be able to show you off now;)

liked by author

username00 : imagine dating your client AND your client’s girlfriend. that’s not a conflict of interest, that’s a power move.

oscarpiastri : so do i have another mom now?

liked by author

uhavebeenserved : yes

oscarpiastri : free legal representation?

uhavebeenserved : yes

lando : WHY DOES HE GET IT BUT NOT ME

uhavebeenserved : oscar stays rather quiet…I don’t see him becoming too much of an issue…unlike you

liked by maxverstappen1 and oscarpiastri

charles_leclerc : my girls ❤️ love you both so much

liked by alexandrasaintmleux and author

danielricciardo : ive been nosey and read a lot of fanfiction in my day but this beats them all

liked by author, alexandrasaintmleux and charles_leclerc

lilymhe : love love love

liked by author and alexandrasaintmleux

carlossainz55 : oh thank god I couldn’t be quiet much longer

liked by author and charles_leclerc

uhavebeenserved : we know

carlossainz55 : sorry for wanting to defend you and Charles from the internet MY BAD FOR BEING A GOOD FRIEND

liked by author and charles_leclerc

yourbff : cuties

liked by author, alexandrasaintmleux and charles_leclerc

—

charles_leclerc

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, uhavebeenserved, arthur_leclerc & 1,358,268.

charles_leclerc : my legal counsel has approved of a hard launch;)

love you both forever and always — the girls ive always dreamed of 🤍

—

username00 : i’m shaking. shaking. SHAKING. he posted this like it’s normal

alexandrasaintmleux : so blessed to have found both of my soulmates — my whole heart

liked by author and uhavebeenserved

uhavebeenserved : my favorite people on the planet,, you both are so incredibly special to me — love you my babies

liked by author and alexandrasaintmleux

username15 : what if Charles was cheating and this is the cover up

uhavebeenserved : oh yes when I make love to both of them it is def a cover up

liked by author and alexandrasaintmleux

scuderiaferrari: for being a lawyer, you are not very pr friendly

liked by uhavebeenserved

alexandrasaintmleux: it’s part of her charm

liked by author and uhavebeenserved

arthur_leclerc : bro I just woke up

arthur_leclerc : and I see you hard launching with my lawyer

liked by author, alexandrasaintmleux and uhavebeenserved

charles_leclerc : she is my lawyer too

uhavebeenserved: i will still be ur lawyer arthur and ill even give you a family discount

arthur_leclerc : oh slay love u for that

pierregasly : triple date soon?

liked by author, uhavebeenserved and alexandrasaintmleux

—

🌸💐🌺🌻🌼

[horny-marbles]

How do the different creeps react with a girlfriend that's very physically affectionate? She loves to kiss them hello and goodbye. Loves cuddle with them on the couch and in bed. Sit on their lap. Loves to play with their hair, scratch their scalp. Will sometimes get overcome with love and attack their entire face with kisses.

I myself am very much like this lol. Can be as fluffy (or even smutty) as you wish

me too me too 🙂‍↕️ they'd die smothered by my lips fr. i also added liu (and sully) in here because i thought he was prime material for this lol :p cw for some very mild smutty mentions but nothing too crazy. enjoy! :D

Creepypastas with a Cuddlebug Girlfriend — Headcanons

Eyeless Jack

⚉ it took forever to get here. months of flinches, vanishing acts, stiff body language and cold silences. you were patient, but he really fucking tested it. he kept pulling away like your affection was something poisonous, like he didn’t deserve the warmth in your hands. there were nights you nearly left—not because you didn’t love him, but because he clearly didn’t think he should be loved in return.

⚉ as emotionally constipated as he is, Jack is unironically the quietest simp on earth. no grand gestures, no soft declarations, no love poems in the dark—but he’ll go pliant under your hands the moment you put them on him. lets you crawl all over him, straddle his thighs, bury your face in his neck, press open-mouthed kisses to his ribs. sometimes you wonder if he’s just enduring it, if he’s humoring you.

⚉ but then he starts purring. subtle, constant, low like a distant engine. you don’t hear it as much as you feel it, thrumming through his chest when you’re tangled up together and the world is silent.

⚉ he still rarely initiates. but once the gates were down, he started soaking it up like bone-dry earth after rain. he doesn’t stop you when your affection goes over the top—when you're curled in his lap, peppering kisses across his jaw, calling him stupid pet names just to see if he’ll twitch.

⚉ he never asks for cuddles, never says he wants to be held. but the second you climb into bed or settle beside him on the couch, his arms snake around you like they’ve been waiting all day, grip firm and protective, like he’s anchoring you both.

⚉ lets you bite him whenever the affection gets too intense for you to handle. especially his arms and biceps. doesn’t flinch, doesn’t complain, doesn’t push you away—even when you accidentally bite down too hard. the marks stay for days, but he never covers them up. if anything, he runs his fingers over them sometimes when he thinks you’re not looking.

⚉ he loves when you trace the hollows of his shoulder blades and spine. long, slow touches down his back when he's shirtless? he’ll sit there, eyes shut, breathing slowed, fingers twitching like he wants to say something but physically can’t. he doesn’t say he wants to be touched, but the way he subtly exposes skin is his way of inviting it. sits in bed shirtless after a shower and doesn’t look at you, but his back is right there. take the hint.

⚉ fixates on your neck a lot. he stares at your throat constantly. or, you know, his face is tilted towards it. it’s not always sexual—it’s fascination. You tilt your head to the side and he just tracks the movement like a predator, sharp and quiet. your throat ends up with faded bite marks all the time once he got comfortable with using his teeth on you, and when you point them out, he just rumbles, “Then stop offering it.”

BEN Drowned

모 from day one, the second you started getting all sticky and cuddly with him, he started teasing the hell out of you for it. not in a mean way—just that mellow, lazy roast voice he has, the kind that sounds like he's halfway to sleep and halfway to a blunt.

“Dude, you’re like… emotionally horny. That’s wild.”

but he’s grinning. that slow, shit-eating grin that says he loves it. that he eats up every clingy kiss and every over-the-top pet name and every time you crawl onto him like a needy little koala. he barks, but he basks.

모 he revels in cuddle sessions when he’s high. joint between his fingers, you in his lap or spread out beside him, some dumb show playing he’s not even watching—he’s in heaven. his hands get real loose, one hand always low on your thigh, thumbing lazy circles or sliding under your shirt with zero fanfare, just to feel skin.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles into your neck, half-lidded and warm against you. “You’re like… a fuckin’ cloud. Or a hot marshmallow or some shit.” then he starts giggling at his own description and buries his face in your chest like he’s trying to suffocate himself in your tits.

모 zero shame, zero urgency. he’ll rub his cheek against your stomach while you stroke his hair and mumble the nastiest compliments with all the energy of a guy talking in his sleep.

“You’re lucky I’m too high to rail you right now,” he slurs with a kiss to your ribs. “You'd be cryin'."

모 when he initiates affection, it’s barely even conscious. has this thing where he’ll hook a finger through your belt loop or hoodie pocket as you walk by just to pull you into his lap, even if he’s busy gaming. doesn’t even pause his game. he makes an obnoxious smooch sound, presses a lazy kiss to your temple, slaps your ass once, then goes right back to clicking buttons like nothing happened. half the time you’re just part of the furniture. a very warm, kissable, touchable piece of furniture that smells really good.

모 gets this really soft look when you kiss his hands—like an actual visible lag in his brain. he stares for a second, eyes lowered, breathing paused like you’ve just triggered some long-lost human file. Then he flexes his fingers in yours and says something stupid like "Damn. Didn’t realize I was royalty.”

모 a little bitch about you playing with his pointy ears. all "ugh, you got an elf kink?!" and "bro, you're fuckin' weird, stop doing that", until you actually pull your hands away. then it's suddenly, "babe, c'mon stop playing," and tucking his hair behind his ears to give you room.

모 borderline religious experience levels of fixation on your thighs. if you don't open your legs to let him sit between them he gives you this look like you just personally offended him and says, "What?? You mad at me or some shit? What did I do??"

Ticci Toby

𓌏 second-place simp only because Jack’s quiet obsession is unbeatable—but Toby gives everything back tenfold, and then some once you make it known that you're touchy-feely. he’s not gentle about it either. he loves hard, and he loves fast, like you’re gonna vanish if he doesn’t show you right now how much he needs you.

𓌏 the worst kisser on Earth (subjective). when you initiate with sweet smooches, he tackles you like a linebacker and crashes your mouths together so hard your teeth click. no aim, no finesse, too much jaw, tongue immediately. and then he pulls back with this big, stupid grin like, “That w-was good, right? Hah. G-gimme another one.” you're half-way to a concussion.

𓌏 you tried to sneak up behind him and bear hug him once. big mistake. he turned it on you and crushed you so tight against his chest that he almost broke your nose.

𓌏 you bite him playfully, and he bites back with zero restraint. doesn’t register how hard it is until you scream. he jerks back with your arm in his mouth, blinking in horror at the indents like they bit him. mouth wet with spit and the faintest trace of red, his expression crumpling like, “W-what?? Wh-what’d I do?? I-I didn’t—wait, y-you’re crying??” full kicked-puppy energy while you're nursing a war wound.

𓌏 cuddling during a movie is virtually impossible. just being near you gets him half-chubbed and distracted. and if he’s the big spoon it’s over. within minutes there’s a hand under your shirt like it belongs there, groping you like it's his emotional support tiddy. “I’m n-not d-doing nothin’, promise,” he mumbles, already rolling his hips into your lower back. “Y-you’re just s-s-soft… and warm…”

a beat of silence.

“…C-can I p-put it in though? C'mon, just a m-m-minute— Please?? We can s-still watch!"

𓌏 touch-starved to hell and back. has to be in physical contact with you constantly. holding your hand even when it's sweaty and awkward. arm slung over your shoulder. leg thrown across your lap. chin on your head. elbow in your ribs. he’s like a weird affectionate dog that never learned boundaries and never wants to.

𓌏 needy to the point of insanity. you so much as touch his thigh in passing and suddenly he’s grabbing your hand and dragging it to his crotch, muttering, “Y-you did that on purpose, d-don’t act innocent.” you didn’t. but it doesn’t matter, he's already hard.

𓌏 hair-pulling is his heroin. there's no "lazy, gentle scalp massages" with him. you try to detangle his mess of curls and he just keeps going, “Harder. Harder—mmmf, ha-harder" while you're one pull away from scalping him. but he just smiles and leans into it, completely unfazed by the fact that his head is being yanked back.

Brian Thomas/Hoodie

☹ you had to break him down slowly. he had walls of steel, thick as hell with barbed wire on top, but your affection chipped at it like water on rock. at first he dodged it—literally. you’d lean in for a kiss and he’d shift just slightly to avoid it, muttering “Don’t.” not because he didn’t want it, but because he wanted it too badly.

his reasons were always the same:

“You don’t want this. I’m not even here half the time.”

“Stickman fucks with my head. I could forget your face tomorrow.”

“You should be with someone real.”

☹ but none of that stopped the way he lingered. your touch magnetized him. you’d reach for his hand and he’d sigh but let you take it, fingers twitching like he didn’t trust himself to squeeze back.

☹ he’ll tell you he’s not a cuddler, that he “gets too hot,” that he “can’t relax like that,” that he “doesn’t sleep well next to people.” but you soon find out he sleeps better when you tangle your legs with his. can’t fall asleep unless your hand’s resting somewhere on him—his side, his chest, his wrist, doesn’t matter.

☹ he doesn’t initiate often—can’t risk falling harder than he already has—but when he does it’s a problem. it's rare and raw, and it makes your chest cave in every time. because he will just randomly sigh like he had to make a life or death decision in his head, make eye contact so intense it feels like bracing for impact, and he kisses you like he hasn't seen you in years.

☹ weak for domestic touches. tug his shirt straight for him. smooth his collar. wipe something off his cheek with your thumb. his brain just shorts out. he stands there like a statue with his eyes flicking between your hand and your face like he’s not sure which to kiss first.

☹ he LOVES when you kiss the bridge of his nose or the crease in his brow when he’s frowning. you do it to soften him up, and it works every time.

☹ Hoodie takes. affection makes him feral. especially right after missions—blood under his nails, eyes glassy, breath heavy—and you grab his face and kiss him like he’s still human? he ruins you. shoves you against the wall, fucks you like he’s still high on adrenaline. like if he doesn’t bury himself inside you, he’ll forget who he is.

☹ he can’t process gentleness right away. the first time you ran your fingers through his hair while he was still breathing heavy post-mission, he froze like you’d hit him. then he grabbed your wrist and dragged your hand back. "Again. Do that shit again."

☹ when you kiss his jaw while he’s still tense, he exhales like the pressure valve just cracked. you do that enough times, and he starts chasing your kisses with his own—down your throat, across your collarbone, rough and desperate.

☹ when you’re clingy with Hoodie, he doesn’t push you away. he lets it happen, but he doesn’t respond like Brian. he just holds you tighter, stiffer, more possessive. like he’s cataloging every second of it to replay later when he’s buried under orders and blood.

☹ kissing him through the mask undoes him. you press your mouth to the fabric and he flinches like it's more intimate than actual skin on skin. he'll stare at you like he doesn't know how to process it, and then rips it up to his nose just enough to crush his mouth against yours like he needs the proof you’re real and not some hallucination.

☹ if you help him clean up after he comes back—using a clean rag to wipe the blood that seeped through the mask on his face—he'll completely freeze for a full minute before yanking himself away from you with this ragged, broken exhale, like you just slit his throat. "No, no, stay the fuck away, this— you don't— don't fuckin' touch me, you're staining your hands. You don't deserve this." he fully shuts down on you like you just reached some purgatory in his mind, and he only comes back after you coax him softly.

Tim Wright/Masky

⦻ so fucking reluctant. not because he doesn’t want the affection—he wants it like he’s dying of thirst—but because he doesn’t trust it. he'll tip toe around it in the beginning like he's scared letting his guard down would instantly make you vanish. you’ll sometimes catch him just looking at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. It’s not lustful—it’s like he’s trying to memorize you, afraid his brain’s going to betray him again.

⦻ when you get clingy with him (cuddling on the couch, draping over him while he’s trying to smoke or read), he groans and mutters a half-hearted “Jesus Christ…” but makes no effort to move you. He just lets out this long-suffering sigh like he’s being tortured—and then subtly wraps an arm around you, fingers digging into your hip.

⦻ touch-starved in the saddest way. if you’re rubbing circles into his back while he lays on your chest, this man is out. fast asleep. snores like a truck.

⦻ the real killer for Tim is casual affection. walking past him and you grab his face to give him a kiss like it's second nature. or holding his hand absentmindedly while watching TV. every time, he looks at you like he can’t believe you're doing it without thinking. sometimes tears up because of it and (badly) covers it up with a yawn.

⦻ he won’t initiate affection often, but he will hover. walks too close, sits too close, lingers near doorways so you’ll come to him first. it's his way of saying “please touch me” without saying anything at all.

⦻ back of the neck touches wreck him. you slide your hand up under the back of his shirt to press your palm there—under his jacket, under his defenses. you feel him go still every time. it’s grounding. he’d never ask for it, but if you stop doing it during a hug, he’ll lean back into your hand, subtly chasing the touch.

⦻ Masky is the complete opposite of Hoodie when it comes to you cleaning him up after a mission. he goes still, but not from shame. his head tilts, eyes half-lidded behind the mask like he’s watching prey walk willingly into his den. there’s a flush creeping down his neck, a hungry glint in his eye, and he’s already half-hard under the weight of your care. he gets a rush from this—your soft hands, your worried little frown, the way you treat him like something precious even when he’s soaked in blood. the way you serve him like this without even having to ask for it.

⦻ you say “I missed you,” arms open to hug him, and he makes a low, scoffing sound in his throat—but the way he grabs you by the back of your neck to kiss you says otherwise.

⦻ Masky doesn’t process “normal” intimacy well. you rest your head on his shoulder, and he’s grabbing your thigh like it’s a green light for sex. you hold his hand and he shakes out of it just to grab your throat instead. there’s no filter.

⦻ you try to kiss him and he meets you halfway but way too fast and way too hard. teeth clash, lips bruise; he grabs your jaw to hold you still like you’re prey he’s keeping under control.

⦻ he loves it most when you get rough back, so he can one-up you. when you bite his neck or lips, or yank him in for a kiss like you need him. if he could purr, he would. his way of reciprocating physical affection is making sure you don’t walk right for two days. did i mention he has a control thing yet?

Jeff the Killer

꒷꒦ umm... jk lol

꒷꒦ first year? misery. if you’re naturally clingy, you might as well be kissing a brick wall that sometimes bites. his concept of physical affection was feral. gropey, aggressive, and mostly used to initiate sex or get a rise out of you. he was obnoxious, didn’t get soft stuff, and laughed in your face if you called him “cute.”

꒷꒦ but if you stomached that… congrats. you unlocked bare minimum boyfriend privileges. he doesn’t initiate affection unless it’s immediately sexual. you’re not getting casual cuddles or soft little kisses just because. that’s not “his style.” he groans EVERY single time you start getting handsy and soft, but he never does much to stop you anymore.

꒷꒦ he accepts hugs. because your tits squish against him and he’s a pig. he’ll either slap your ass hard enough to make you squeak, or pull you in by the neck and kiss you like he’s trying to bruise your lips.

“There. You got your stupid affection. That enough for the day?”

it’s not. you keep coming back like a needy little parasite and he acts like he’s put upon—but his grip always lingers.

꒷꒦ the ONLY time he doesn't piss and moan about cuddling is when you pull him over you in bed, face first into your chest. you try to be cute, sure, but he's a tit guy and he makes it foul instantly. cups the sides of your tits and pushes them together to rub his face in while groaning. instantly hard, too.

꒷꒦ he gets annoyed constantly. like, “can’t-breathe-stop-touching-me-I-swear-to-god” annoyed, but it’s mostly all bark. you straddle him on the couch to cover his face in kisses and he flails, groaning, “DUDE. Get the fuck off. I’m gonna suffocate.” but he doesn't push you off. doesn’t even move. he just grits his teeth and deals with it, eyes fluttering shut the second your lips hit his jaw like the hypocrite he is.

꒷꒦ he sucks at cuddling. or rather—he sucks at not turning cuddling into dry humping within five minutes. you slide next to him in bed, all sweet and warm and wanting to be held, and he immediately shifts behind you and grabs your waist like he’s bracing for impact. his mouth is on your neck before the covers settle.

“You’re the one who climbed in here,” he mutters, hand already between your thighs. “I’m just makin’ the most of it.”

he calls it "cuddling with flavor".

꒷꒦ disgustingly into anything involving his neck. you sneak up behind him, arms around his waist, lips on his neck for less than a second, and he growls, “You got ten seconds to stop before I start fucking you right here.”

Liu Woods/Sully

𓄧 at first, he’s unsure how to handle it. not in a “don’t touch me” way—he actually responds well to touch—but it scares him how much he likes it. he’s used to needing control, keeping his emotions tight, so having someone who’s always hugging him and kissing his cheek and calling him pet names just melts him. he just hides it very, very well.

𓄧 his reactions are delayed. you’ll wrap your arms around him from behind and it’ll take him a second to process it—but once he does, his hands automatically come to rest on yours, like his body reacts before his brain can argue.

𓄧 he’s not good at receiving affection without overthinking it. you nuzzle up to him on the couch and he’s immediately like: “What did I do to deserve this? Are you okay? Are you hiding something?” but he also lets out this tiny, quiet breath when you pet his hair, and that’s how you know he secretly loves it.

𓄧 obsessed with your hands. loves when you run your fingers along his jaw, lace your fingers with his, or cup his face when you kiss him. he has this internal reaction every time like he’s been hit in the chest with a shovel. never says a word about it, just keeps looking for it again and again.

𓄧 he needs physical affection, but he thinks it’s selfish to ask for it, so you’ll often find him standing too close to you, brushing up against you, subtly looking for contact like a stray cat that won’t admit it’s hungry. you sit in his lap and he freezes, then lets out the quietest laugh and leans into you like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

𓄧 he matches your affection in the softest ways. he’ll kiss your forehead when he passes you in the hallway. pulls you closer in bed while still asleep. kisses your hands every time you cup his face or play with his hair. all that subtle, quiet love that he’s never sure how to say out loud.

𓄧 Sully exists to protect the system—especially Liu. he’s not cruel or evil, but he is intense. he runs hot, emotional, and blunt. he’s used to hostility, so your affection throws him off at first, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

𓄧 you learned pretty early when someone else was fronting. the posture was different. the eyes were harder. he flinched less. and he didn’t say much—just stared like he was trying to figure you out like a puzzle.

𓄧 you once kissed his cheek mid-sentence and he just paused, mid-thought. blank and confused. “...What the hell was that for?”

you said “because I wanted to.”

and he stared another beat and muttered, “...Weird,” but he turned his face for you to kiss the other cheek as well. lol

𓄧 Sully doesn’t seek out affection, but once he starts to trust you, he starts allowing it. he’ll grunt when you hug him, but he won’t move away. he’ll scowl if you hold his hand, but he squeezes back. he’s used to being the one protecting, so being loved so openly makes him feel raw and seen in a way that’s almost unbearable. almost.

𓄧 he’s more physical in return than Liu, though. if you kiss him, he grabs your waist and kisses back like it’s a challenge. if you straddle his lap, he’ll start feeling you up instantly—legs, hips, ass, making it feel like it was his idea to begin with.

𓄧 when you cuddle up to him, he makes this sarcastic little noise like “ugh,” but his hands find your waist automatically. his body betrays him every time. he’s all sarcasm and sharp teeth, but he wraps around you like he’s been cold his whole life.

𓄧 after getting comfortable, he lowkey loves to tease you, but acts like it's just aversion to touch, just to fuck with you a bit. you lean in to kiss him and he turns his head last second so you miss his lips. if you pout, his mouth twitches like he's fighting a smile and he leans in with this low tone, "You gonna start crying? Can't you wait until I fuck it out of you?"

[noirscript]

Lavender and Powder

Pairing: Yandere!Farmer x City Girl!Reader Description: Isaiah, a farmer with a quiet intensity, becomes an unsettling presence in your life after a chance encounter. What starts as neighborly kindness spirals into a chilling tale of control and obsession, leaving you trapped in a nightmare you never saw coming. Warning/s: Yandere | Psychological Manipulation | Obsession | Emotional Coercion | Stalking | Non-consensual Confinement | Forced Domesticity | Dubious Consent | Threats | Intimidation | Mild Physical Violence | Implied Babytrapping Note: I tried to make the reader bratty in the drafts but it doesn't feel right T^T I don't know if the anon who requested this is still lurking here or not, but enjoy! Also, join the taglist by clicking this link! (My interview ended few minutes ago. My brain is toasted af. T^T)

Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar | Dark Roast 50% off

You’d only been in town for five days, and already you were part of the scenery at Gracie’s Diner.

It wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest work. You didn’t mind the grease that clung to your skin, the clatter of dishes, or the sting in your legs after double shifts. What mattered was that you were earning your keep—paying your bills, fixing up the wreck of a farmhouse your mother left behind, and doing it all without help.

You weren’t here to be rescued.

“You sure you’re not overworking yourself, sweetheart?” Gracie asked as you refilled the sugar jars. She was a woman who wore her sarcasm and worry with the same ease as her eyeliner.

“I’m fine,” you said with a smile, rolling your sleeves up higher. “Gotta pay for a new water heater somehow. Thing practically screamed when I tried to shower this morning.”

“Thought your neighbor offered to help with all that?”

You stiffened.

You remembered him well. Isaiah. The farmer with shoulders like barn doors and calloused hands that looked like they could crush rock. He came to welcome you on your first day with a crate of eggs and a bashful smile. In return, you gave him a plate of spaghetti you made that night, more out of politeness than interest.

You hadn't realized the way his eyes lingered as you handed him that plate.

That in his mind, that gesture sealed a bond deeper than you’d ever intended.

“I told him I had it under control,” you said simply.

Gracie gave you a look. “I know you city girls are all about that independence. Just be careful. Some men ‘round here get ideas.”

You laughed softly. “I can take care of myself.”

⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅

Your shifts were long. The tips were modest. And the farmhouse was stubborn in its disrepair. But you were managing.

Until your truck died.

You were halfway down the lonely road toward your house after closing the diner when the engine sputtered and gave out. No signal. No cars. Nothing but the humming of bugs and the distant rustle of trees.

You grabbed your backpack and kicked the tire, muttering curses.

Then headlights pierced the dark.

Isaiah pulled up beside you, leaned out the window with a smile that looked just a bit too pleased.

“Well, now. Looks like you need a hand.”

You blinked. “Yeah… my truck just—stopped. No warning. Can I get a lift home?”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Was just headin’ back from drinks with the boys.”

You got in.

The silence stretched as you talked. You were tired, but adrenaline kept you going. You talked about the renovations, your job at the diner, your plans to eventually turn the farmhouse into something self-sustaining. You didn’t notice the silence behind the wheel. Not really.

“I just think women shouldn’t have to rely on anyone,” you said, stretching. “It’s freeing, you know? To build something yourself.”

His hands clenched the steering wheel.

You didn't notice.

But he did.

⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅

Three days later, the farmhouse was broken into.

You came home after your shift and found everything ransacked. Nothing stolen—just destruction. Dishes shattered. Curtains torn. Couch cushions ripped open like animals had clawed them apart. Your knees gave out. You screamed.

Isaiah arrived before the sheriff.

“Jesus,” he said, crouching beside you. “You alright? You’re shaking.”

“I—yeah—I think—” You gasped. “They didn’t take anything. Just trashed it.”

“No way you’re sleeping here tonight,” he said. “Door’s broken. You’re vulnerable.”

“I’ll go to a motel—”

“They’re all booked for the rodeo this week,” he interrupted gently. “Look, I’ve got a guest room. Just for a night or two.”

You didn’t want to. But your nerves were shot, and there was nowhere else to go.

“Just a night,” you agreed, voice hollow.

⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅

Isaiah’s house was too perfect.

Pristine. Polished floors. Dishes stacked in neat rows. A faint floral scent lingered—lavender, maybe.

“Bathroom’s down the hall. Towels are clean. I’ll get the bed ready,” he said, walking away with your overnight bag like it already belonged there.

You spotted a mug on the counter with your name on it. Painted in soft pastel blue.

“You… had this?”

He smiled. “Felt right. Made it when I heard you took the old place.”

You tried to joke. “That’s… thoughtful.”

He smiled wider.

⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅

You tried to offer him money the next morning, after breakfast. Scrambled eggs. Homemade biscuits. Too good.

“Don’t insult me,” he said quietly. “Just help out around the house, alright? You’re already doing so much.”

So you did. You swept. Cleaned. Cooked dinner once or twice. Anything to repay him for the roof over your head while you called contractors and scraped together the funds for repairs.

But the contractors never called back.

Your calls went unanswered.

The mechanic said your truck was totaled.

You didn’t realize someone else had made sure of that.

⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅

It was a week later when you heard Isaiah on the phone.

The kettle had just started to scream when his voice reached you from down the hall, muffled but distinct. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop—not really—but something in his tone made your body freeze.

“…No, she hasn’t figured it out yet. Sweet thing still thinks this is charity.”

A low chuckle.

“I’ve been teaching her… slowly. She’s adjusting.”

A pause. His voice dropped lower.

“Not yet. But soon.”

You stood there for a second too long. Long enough for the kettle to whistle sharply, loud enough to cover the sound of the ceramic mug slipping from your hands and smashing against the floor.

The tea scalded your bare feet. You barely felt it.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his voice stopped mid-sentence. The sudden silence on his end was deafening.

You moved.

Bolted.

You didn’t think—just acted. Your legs carried you on instinct, slipping on the wet floor, catching yourself against the wall, fingers fumbling for balance. The hallway felt longer than usual. Your vision tunneled, the walls squeezing closer with every second.

You reached the back door.

Unlatched.

Unlocked.

Hope surged in your chest so violently it made you gasp.

You wrenched it open.

Cool air hit your face, the smell of soil and pine and freedom burning in your lungs. You were halfway out—one foot in the grass, fingers scraping the edge of the doorway—

And then a hand, large and brutal, slammed the door shut.

With you halfway through it.

You screamed.

The edge of the frame cracked against your ribs as Isaiah yanked you backward, one arm wrapping tight across your waist, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. You kicked, flailed, clawed at his skin, but he held you firm—an immovable wall of muscle and determination.

“I knew you’d run,” he muttered, breath hot against your ear. His voice had lost the syrupy sweetness he wore like a mask. Now it was raw, cracked, and furious. “Ungrateful little thing.”

He turned, carrying you effortlessly despite your thrashing.

“I’ve done everything for you. Gave you safety. Gave you warmth. A home.”

He slammed the door behind you both with his boot, the echo like a gunshot.

You fought harder.

“I was gonna ease you into it,” he snarled, dragging you past the kitchen. “Let you feel like you chose this. But you just had to snoop, didn’t you?”

He didn’t take you to the guest room.

He took you down the hall, past the door you’d never seen open. The one that was always locked.

He kicked it in.

And there it was.

The cradle. A handmade wooden crib, nestled in the center of a room painted in soft yellows and sage green. The mobile above it spun slowly, creaking on its hinges, casting distorted shadows across the walls.

Everything smelled like baby powder and lavender and something far too clean.

Your stomach turned.

“No—no, let me go—!”

“You’re mine,” Isaiah hissed, slamming the door shut behind you. He twisted the lock before pressing you against it, pinning you there with the full weight of his body. “You fed me that day. You smiled. You looked at me like I mattered. What the hell did you think that meant, huh?”

You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “It was just dinner—it didn’t mean anything—”

“It meant everything,” he growled, gripping your chin so hard it ached. “It was a promise. A bond. You gave yourself to me when you fed me. You just didn’t know it yet.”

You whimpered as his hand dropped to your hip, then your wrist, guiding you toward the crib with terrifying tenderness.

“You’ll see. You don’t need that diner. You don’t need money or dreams or whatever garbage you believe in. You need me. You need this.”

He pressed your palm flat against the cradle’s wooden edge.

“You need to understand your place, wife.”

You sobbed, body trembling, but there was no more strength left to fight.

His voice dipped lower, reverent and sickeningly soft.

“…And maybe it’s time you give me what I’ve waited for.”

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @fandangoballs @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger

[orphicsun]

american kids (e.w headcannons)

pairing: southern butch ellie + fem reader

warnings: 18+ content (use of strap-ons + oral sex + ass slapping), mentions of guns since it's a southern au and all, southern dialect/accent noticeable, use of the term 'daddy' (i think ellie is the type of butch to love the name).

☼ southern butch ellie who wears a pair of joel's hand-me-down jeans while she works. sweat drippin' down her forehead, hair tied back messily to keep it out of her face. plenty of pit stains on her wife pleasers and she still looks irresistible.

☼ southern butch ellie who plows through endless fields in her tractor (and you)

☼ southern butch ellie who isn't too picky about her meals. you'll approach her lounging form, practically glued to the recliner, and tap her tanned shoulder with a plate of mississippi mud roast.

"ain't you just so sweet?" she'd tease, tugging your waist to sit on the side of the chair. when you (reluctantly) managed to pull away to clean the crock pot, you'd feel her roughened hand give your ass a little shameless smack, and if you paid closer attention, you could hear the snicker erupt from her throat.

☼ southern butch ellie who loves being called daddy in the privacy of your farmhouse' master bedroom.

in reverse cowgirl, her hands keep a firm grip over the curve of your hips. you rock your hips back and forth, whining incoherent shit she can't make anything of. you jump and look back at her when her hand comes down on your ass, a sharp spank leaving a red handprint on it. "you gonna be nice for daddy and ride her cock, quit mumblin'?" she chides. your whimper sends 1500 watts straight to her bush-hidden pussy. without further notice, you're flipped underneath her, and the harness around her waist is being ripped off so she can shut you up with her pussy on your face.

☼ southern butch ellie with plenty of ink. the single name "shimmer," her first horse, on the back of her shoulder. letters capital and thin. then, an assortment of random tattoos you wouldn't expect someone in the bible belt to have. not that ellie follows any bible, but it's surprising to see. her arms stay mainly clean, freckles on her shoulders and faded down her arms unobstructed, but she swears one day she will get your name on the inside of her wrist.

"see that vein right there, babe? right below 'er. perfect place for your name, don't cha think?"

☼ southern butch ellie who seems rough on the outside, but is the true definition of a sweetheart. you live in a trailer park? she grew up in one, doesn't judge. though that is all too common in the south, some folks still judge. she will never understand it. adding onto this, she ordinates between little and big spoon. some nights, she loves being held and squeezed to sleep. the nights when she has no plans of actually sleeping, she likes sneaking behind you and rubbing her thick belt buckle against your ass.

☼ southern butch ellie who is awkward with kids to the point it melts your heart. she can hardly speak to them, just nodding along and trying to keep up with their jumbling words. give her a couple hours with the kids, and you'll find her playing crack the egg on a trampoline with them.

☼ southern butch ellie who hunts with a rifle in the backwoods. she'll come home with a couple rabbits or a deer if she is so lucky. keeps the rifle stored away safely, but sometimes her mind drifts to your safety. if anyone even so much as thought about trying to harm you on her property? rifle is going to be used for more than forest critter.

☼ southern butch ellie who loves getting a strap blowjob, whatever you wanna call it. she gets asked all the time why lesbians use strap-ons if they don't like cock—this is why. the way the tan plastic shines neatly with your saliva. the way she can last longer than any guy getting a blowjob, fucking your throat for as long as she so pleases, knowing you love gagging for her dick.

☼ southern butch ellie who fucks you in the bed of her '97 pick-up truck, a few blankets underneath you. she'll have you in missionary with your legs wrapped around her hips, and she handles you so easily. she doesn't sputter like a man. she fucks you hard and deep, encouraging you to dig your nails into her back. she doesn't stop until she knows you're worn out.

☼ southern butch ellie who loves a good home-cooked meal from you, but knows how to whip up some bomb ass breakfast herself. hashbrowns and sunny-side up eggs, a few strip of bacon or sausage links on the side for you when you rise. since she always wakes earlier than you, she has the advantage of being able to cook for you before you are able to fuss about her morning chores and how you should be the one to cook.

☼ southern butch ellie who hates overall traffic and chaos in the city, but will drive through an interstate to one in november for every major holiday. she isn't the richest person, but likes picking up overtime to get you that specific teacup set you saw in a flea market or a lacy pair of victoria's secret panties in the mall that she catches you staring at weeks prior.

☼ southern butch ellie who makes a mixtape for the nights the two of you drink beer on the hood of her truck and roll a couple joints. and yeah, it's the classics of the south. george strait, the charlie daniels band, dolly parton, johnny cash, shania twain, willie nelson, etc. she throws in some soft older love songs like coney island baby, somethin' stupid, i will always love you, dedicated to the one i love, forever, be my baby, and tonight will you belong to me.

taglist: @ferxanda, @vahnilla, @witzs, @frillynpinkprincess, @plasticl0v3r, @meow4510, @eriiwaii, @g4ys0n, @mitskimisfit, @ruelezz, @bewareofmyglock. want to be tagged? click here

[jo-com]

──★ ｡𖦹˙🍓 ̟ Enemies Online, Lovers Offline?

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

୨ৎ Summary: You and Lando Norris hate each other. At least, that’s what it looks like online—

୨ৎ Genre: A little SMAU, Enemies with benefits, Smut

୨ৎ Note: Please don’t judge my smut, haven’t written that for like months now i think? Explicit content / 18+ (spicy smut scenes), Language, Fake hate, real sexual tension, Hotel room hookups, Light dom!Lando energy

ARCHIVES ⭑.ᐟ

Username she said “i love him” but with ✨rage✨

Username this is not beef. this is foreplay

Username ❎enemies to lovers? ✅lovers who pretend they’re enemies.

Username this is not hate. this is love in lowercase and violence

Username she’s probs tweeting this while sitting on his lap

Username she hates him. which means she’s either dating him or about to

…

Username imagine fighting on main and spooning 20 mins later

Username lando’s version of love language is “fight me then feed me”😭

Username he probs said “you mad?” after this tweet

Username NO CUZ ITS GIVING THAT😭😭😭

Username someone said “bantercore relationship” and this is it

Username Is Mclaren not gonna do something about this or…

Username is this banter or a soft breakup announcement 💀

…

Username this relationship is 90% roasting, 10% emotional damage cuddles

Username high IQ on track, zero when he texts “wyd” at 1am

Username the tweet is rude but the love is real

Username Their love language is definitely verbal attack🥹

Username can they fight less and kiss more pls my heart can’t take it

Username the slow burn is actually fast and messy but i’m obsessed

…

Username the fact he claps back with effort… yeah they’re sleeping together😮‍💨

Username imagine hating someone but still thinking of clever burns for them… in public

Username Nah i JUST know he’s soft for her irl😛

Username Idc they’re my fav couple even if they say they’re not “dating”

Username THE WAY I SEE THEIR POSTS IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER IS INSANE

Username my whole feed is literally just them fighting😭😭😭

…

He pinned you against the door before you could even breathe, his hands gripping your hips like he was trying not to lose his grip on reality. “You always run that mouth on no?,” he growled, lips brushing your jaw, “but the second I get you alone—what, suddenly you’ve got nothing to say?”

You rolled your eyes even as your body melted into his. “I hate you.”

“Yeah?” His teeth grazed your throat. “Then why are you so wet for me right now?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. His hand was already sliding beneath your skirt, fingers hooking into your panties and dragging them down like he owned you. You gasped when his thumb pressed against your clit—teasing, slow, confident.

“Still talking?” he muttered, voice low and dangerous.

“You’re a cocky—”

He cut you off with a bruising kiss, swallowing your insult like he was starving for it. He pulled back just long enough to murmur, “Take your clothes off.”

“Make me.”

That smirk. That goddamn, unbearable smirk.

He lifted you effortlessly and threw you onto the bed. You bounced once, laughing breathlessly before he climbed over you, ripping your top off like it was holding him back from something vital.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he muttered, dragging his lips down your chest. “Laid out. Mouthy. Mine.”

“I’m not yours,” you bit, even as your legs parted for him automatically.

“No?” He pushed inside you in one smooth, devastating thrust—deep, slow, filling. You choked on your own breath.

“Say it again,” he said through clenched teeth, gripping your thighs and grinding into you harder. “Tell me you’re not mine while I fuck you like this.”

You didn’t say it again. You couldn’t. Not when he was rolling his hips into yours like he knew exactly where to hit, not when your nails were digging into his back, not when every moan that left your throat made him groan against your skin.

Lando leaned in, forehead against yours, breath ragged.

“You act like you hate me,” he rasped, pace brutal now. “But no one fucks you like I do, do they?”

You whimpered—high and desperate, your entire body trembling as your release built too quickly to stop.

He felt it.

“Come for me,” he said, voice rough, hips snapping harder. “Come so loud they’ll know exactly who shuts you up.”

And you did.

It hit like a wave, like fire, like heat and hate and something terrifyingly close to love. You came with a gasp, your walls clenching around him, dragging him over the edge just seconds later.

He groaned into your neck, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you.

He let out a deep, satisfied sigh as he collapsed beside you, his arm immediately flinging across your waist like instinct. Like he was supposed to be there.

You were still catching your breath, cheeks flushed, heartbeat matching the lazy rise and fall of his chest against your side.

“…You’re really annoying, you know that?” you mumbled, staring at the ceiling.

He didn’t answer right away—just nuzzled his face into your shoulder with a smug hum. “And yet here you are. Wrecked. Speechless. Obsessed.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched.

“Obsessed?” you snorted. “I literally hate you.”

“You say that,” he murmured, lips brushing your collarbone, “but you’re the one clinging to me like a koala.”

“I am not—” You glanced down. You were very much wrapped around him. Legs tangled. His hoodie half on your body. His fingers tracing patterns on your back.

“…Shut up.”

He grinned, boyish and soft, like he couldn’t help it. “You shut up.”

Silence fell for a moment. But it wasn’t tense. It was glowing. Comfortable. Then he reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. It was nothing. It was everything.

“I like when you’re like this,” he said quietly, barely above a whisper.

You blinked. “Like what?”

He paused.

“Real.”

Your stomach fluttered, but you masked it with a scoff. “Ew. Don’t get sentimental on me, Norris.”

“Too late.”

He turned toward you fully now, his hand finding yours under the blanket. No sarcasm. No teasing. Just… him.

Warm. Gentle. Familiar.

You hated how safe it felt.
You also kind of loved it.

“You still suck,” you muttered, your voice softer now.

He leaned in, nose brushing yours, eyes full of something way too sincere for someone you supposedly hated.

“I know,” he said. “But I’m your problem now.”

[obeymeluv]

In Your Defense [PT 2 - Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomfiore]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi?

AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Not proofread because of the length. Trying to get everyone done today. It's my last day off for a few.

Whatever part Ortho is in will be platonic, obvs.

Happy V-day!

Azul is no stranger to visiting different shops to stay on top of trends. Valentine's Day wasn't something they had in the Coral Sea so this trip was more for the experience than anything. He's taking in the overwhelming but impressive amount of red, pink, and white decorations while trying to look at the other shoppers out of the corner of his eye.

What are they buying? What's most popular?

The holiday seems too brief to plan a full menu, or even to-go specials. Maybe he can do something next year.

There's an emphasis on chocolates and sweets. He's not even eating any of it and his teeth hurt! The small chocolate assortments make more sense than the huge brick of chocolate--dark chocolate?--several Pomfiore students are planning to split between themselves. His stomach hurts at the thought of trying to eat even a third of what they're holding.

In his opinion it's an unimpressive holiday. A marketable one for sure, but unimpressive. Clearly it's meant for the nice, sentimental, mushy people out there.

Not to say there's no one he'd spoil. No one he cares about. Matter of fact, he's got something crunchy in his basket for Floyd! And if it weren't for his mother living underwater, she might like some of these cutesy knickknacks! A set of cookie cutters catch his eye and Azul throws them in his basket without thinking.

Damn hand-brain.

He stares into his own basket, wondering what the justification is. There's a part of his brain saying he doesn't need a reason but he's not an impulsive person. He's a practical person and the practical reason he needs those cookie cutters is to make cookies for the lounge in case any poor soul misses their chance to get something from Sam's!

Yes. Yes, that's it.

He may or may not be trying to tell you he likes you by collecting heart-shaped things. You'll check him out at the register and he'll just keep handing you heart things. Offering his heart over and over.

Not that you'd know. Azul doesn't have the guts to tell you yet. He's got three hearts but no guts.

It's just not the right time, he tells himself. Not the right way.

He puts sprinkles and chocolate stirring spoons into his basket. There's a little mushroom figurine that has white hearts instead of the usual spots. That's for Jade.

Azul weaves between the shelves to get to the refrigerated section, buying a couple of cartons of milk and ice cream. He's not fast but he's stronger than he looks. Aside from the work in his mother's restaurant in the Coral Sea, cooking on land has cultured a lot of muscle in unexpected ways--straining full stockpots, blending quarts of sauces, roasting whole chickens, and hefting huge fish onto the cutting board for portioning. It'll be nothing to carry it all back.

He just doesn't like to do it. And he doesn't like to lose his voice or go completely pink in front of you, but he does. Azul tries to look without looking, charmed by the glittery dangle in your hair and how it brings out the color of your eyes.

Then, he hears it. "How much do you cost?"

It is not enough to beg his pardon. The Seven must also be begged.

A fury whips up inside of him. He's furious that it's just so easy for that lander to chat you up. He's furious that he's not confident enough to do it when he's been drowning in these feelings for weeks. The manager part of his brain kicks in and he becomes furious that you're being accosted on the clock.

SAM WOULD NEVER, BUT WHERE IS HE?! STAFF SHOULD NOT BE MADE TO ENDURE SUCH CONDITIONS!

"Hardly appropriate for the occasion, don't you think?" Azul has stepped in with his signature smooth smile and calm demeanor. He has no cane, hat, or coat at the moment but he knows he makes people uncomfortable without them. There's something about him that makes people nervous. The pecking dread of 'he's human but not totally human' makes them jumpy and very prey-like.

"I-I was just messing around," the guy deflects.

"There's a time and a place. Unfortunately, it's not here and not now. You're interrupting the flow of business and I don't think the other patrons are happy," Azul hums a little as he and the abysmal Casonova look back at all the people in line. They are, in fact, not happy.

"I'll just go." he grabs the change bashfully and doesn't look back.

Azul thanks the person who let him cut in line, half wondering if said person will come back and try to coax a favor out of him. "Thanks, Azul." you smile at him.

"You're most welcome." Azul adjusts his glasses before layering the bags on his arms. You help him with the door. "I'd be happy to treat you to a milkshake. You know, something sweet to make up for whatever THAT was." he gestures to the guy in the distance.

WHY IS HE TALKING? WHY DID HE KEEP TALKING? THE LEGS NEED TO MOVE BUT THEY'RE NOT!

"Sounds great! I'll stop by after my shift."

"Okay," his voice cracks a bit but you don't hear it because the door's already closed. He breaths a sigh of relief.

----

Floyd was sent to pick through the pink and red chaos at Sam's while Jade and Azul redecorated for a Valentine's special at the lounge. It was a last-minute idea inspired by the deluge of advertising. They'd gotten bigger things in town like tablecloths and fancy napkins but smaller treats were lacking. He was tasked with getting melting chocolates and pre-made stuff to balance out the strawberries and fresh groceries they bought.

A big, aggravated sigh passed through his sharp teeth. The line is long and he doesn't really want to do this. Floyd feels his brain shutting off as his looks at heart streamers and silver-and-pink tinsel. At least I won't have to slave over a hot burner all night, Floyd sighs again as he looks at the goods and wonders what would make Azul happy.

The menu will be limited. Each item is heart-shaped, sweet, or both. It honestly just sounds like an excuse to sell people overpriced sugar.

Floyd buys a couple packs of melting chocolates in different colors and some crunchy sour candies for the trouble. Jade sends him a text asking him to grab a couple of cans of whipped cream for the pancakes and crepes. He steps out of line, grabs the cans, and pauses when he hears the guy shoot his shot.

"How much do you cost?"

Really?

Landers are so weird. They don't seem to have any conditions for mating. Why would you entertain this dude when he hasn't shown you he could provide or protect you? Spending money to buy things so he could talk to you isn't the way to provide. Buying your time is no different than those underwater pricks trying to curry his dad's favor with gifts.

It's disingenuous and disgusting.

"I don't see a 'for sale' sign. Can't buy it if it's not advertised." Floyd frowns at the little worm in front of him, sharp teeth poking out beneath his upper lip. "That's how shops work if you didn't know." Floyd laughs.

He was stupid enough to ask you out so he might be too stupid to realize why that pickup line didn't work.

"R-Right." the guy nods, swallowing thickly. Floyd was absently rolling his shoulder, annoyed with how long he'd held the basket. The guy noticed his working muscle and booked it, grabbing most of his change. A coin skipped off the counter, twinkling under the lights. Giggling to himself, Floyd stooped to pocket the change.

"Heya Shrimpy,"

"Hey Floyd," you started scanning the basket of items.

"Ya hungry? It's pretty busy in here."

"A little." you admitted. "But I'll be off soon. I can go back to Ramshackle and make something."

"Nah, come to the Lounge! We're doing specials for groups and couples."

"Does Grim count?" you give a little laugh. Azul lets him in sometimes depending on his attitude. At the very least, he'll let Grim get something to go.

"You get the best deal if you go with me. I'll buy your whole meal." Floyd wiggles his eyebrows at you playfully. His gold eye shines.

"Oh! I like that! I'll bite!"

"A bit early for that but I'll see you there." Floyd knows what he said has confused you. You landers aren't really keen on stuff from the Coral Sea but that's okay. He had a date with you and that's what matters.

----

Jade isn't quite sure what Sam's inventory will hold but he's been tasked with finding interesting things for the Lounge. Pink things, shiny things, profitable things--anything. Azul is convinced it will give him an edge over other places to eat. Never mind the fact that convenience is key and the students don't want to pay for the bus fare or compete with crowds in town.

He peruses the chocolate molds and candy necklaces, amused by the fact you can wear it and eat it. What a novel idea! Sam put a few types of tea on reserve for him and Jade knew they were pretty shades of pink and blue when brewed so that was something. The mer picks up a box of crunchy straw-like things and puts them in the basket. If they don't work as real straws, they can be milkshake accents.

Loaf cakes catch his eye. You could get at least ten slices out of each; top them with a bit of ice cream and you have a cheap but elegant-looking dessert. He puts a few in the basket. Teas considered, Jade is confident in his choices and ready to check out.

"Oya oya? What's this?" Jade's golden eye pierces the spineless lander in front of him. Did his ears deceive him or were you being accosted by unworthiness? "Do repeat yourself. I'm interested."

It sounds like an ask but it's not. It's a demand. A demand for this man to prostrate himself as an apology for his inferiority. For the gall to so much as breathe in your presence.

A punishment for conceiving the notion to approach you, he supposes. A light punishment, all things considered. Jade was capable of far more than some casual embarrassment, after all. His smile was polite but his words were anything but. "Go on. You may not have their full attention but you have mine."

"J-Just forget I said anything, okay?" the guy completely ignores him to whimper to you. He snatches whatever he bought so quick Jade doesn't know what it was.

No matter.

"Hello there," Jade smiles down at you. You definitely fit the holiday theme. Oh! Does that mean he should take you back to the lounge? You're interesting and that fits Azul's criteria.

Yes, he thinks you'd be perfect in the lounge.

"Hi Jade." you pack his items away dutifully. You bag the teas carefully.

Pink and shiny--yes, you must come to the lounge.

"Seeing as you're working for Sam today, I'd love for you to stop by and try these teas. I'm sure he'll appreciate feedback from more than just myself."

"I can make time for tea."

"Perfection."

----

Kalim is admiring the myriad of pinks and reds, bracelets and bangles jingling as he skips into Sam's. Valentine's Day is an interesting holiday. It's practically bursting at the seams with color and he's delighted to know red features heavily. The holiday is practically made to host in Scarabia!

Maybe they could make a red-inspired menu? A red and pink menu? He can't really think of foods that would fit the theme and he'd rather not give Jamil a stomach ache trying all of the chocolate things in here. Kalim trots off to look at the flowers and trinkets, just narrowly avoiding Jamil's stern grab. "Don't run off without me!" Jamil chastises, Kalim giving a half-hearted hum as he analyzed a pair of gold and red earrings.

They weren't cheap but they weren't expensive, either. The price point was fair, Kalim thought. Being who he was, he'd learned to tell the quality of gems and gold from a young age.

Would you like jewelry? He's never seen you wear jewelry. Kalim has bugged Jamil about you a million times, bouncing ideas off of him until he was so frustrated he left the room.

"I think they'd appreciate food more, given their circumstances." Jamil puts the earrings back on the shelf.

"But I always give them food, Jamil! Don't you think they want something different?"

"You're overthinking, Kalim," Jamil taps him in the forehead with a finger. "People are simple. Give them food and attention."

"I would've taken them out on a carpet ride but someone hid my carpet." even when Kalim was trying to cut his red eyes and look peeved, it didn't work. His face was too round and cherubic for it.

"I don't trust that thing," Jamil huffs, guiding him back to the line.

Kalim listens to people talk about plans to split chocolates and call relatives to see what they'd like and a sad pang cuts through him.

Why isn't it that easy for him? He's got more money than people could ever dream of and yet he feels like he's not doing enough for you.

Not that you'd know what he's done for you. He hasn't exactly said he likes you yet. Surely he'd made it obvious with all the invites to Scarabia, right? You hadn't quite caught on to the grocery drops yet but he understands the confusion; Crowley took credit for at least one of those and Kalim was not happy.

"I see an empty-handed Imp!" Sam makes him and Jamil jump. "Are my wares not enough for you, Little One?" he tuts at Kalim's empty hands.

"Oh there's lots of cool stuff!" Kalim promises, smiling brightly. "I just have to be careful about what I eat!"

"What about some roses? Those are popular! They're up there by the register. And we have small fruit arrangements in the refrigerated section, of course."

"Actually, we're just here to deliver an invitation." Jamil redirects Kalim when he seems to be thinking about going to the refrigerated section.

"We could get some festive napkins!" Kalim is leafing through packs of heart designs and colors. Sam seems satisfied. Jamil heaves an irritated sigh as the store owner moves on to his next mark.

Kalim almost drops the napkins when he hears what the guy said to you. It takes Jamil by surprise, too. Jamil starts to panic when Kalim doesn't move; Kalim's outbursts were rare but even rarer were the moments he just froze.

A frozen Kalim means he's contemplating. Dipping his toes into the side of himself he doesn't ever show because it disgusts and disappoints him. The young boy squares his shoulders and raises his head in a way that proves he was raised with etiquette and presence. It's the walk of someone unconcerned because he has so much money that nothing is a problem.

Quick as a flash that cunning, stewing heaviness disappears. Kalim hooks his arm around the guys neck, taking him by surprise. Disarmed by his sunny grin and stunned by his boldness, he stumbles over to a wall of cards. Jamil slithers through the aisles and positions himself just so to listen.

In these rare moments, when Kalim puts on that face, they think alike. Kalim hates these moments because it shows him that people just want money. That they'll trip over themselves for enrichment, compromising morals and anything else as long as the price is right.

But this time it works in his favor.

"Instead of asking how much they cost," the sunniness slowly drains from Kalim's voice, "ask yourself how much it would cost for you to leave them alone. Like, not ask them out again. At all. Ever."

It's the first time someone at NRC realizes Kalim's not all sunshine and rainbows. And that his pampered life hasn't left him completely soft. Kalim had to go through the same training Jamil did, being the heir to a massive fortune and all. He needs to be able to hold his own even though he shouldn't expect to.

Only he and Jamil know some of his rings are hollow and hold poisons. The guy doesn't know how close he is to said poisons.

"Y'know, it's, uh..it's on me. Free." the guy squeaks out, dipping out from under Kalim's arm.

Content, Kalim skips up to you and hands you the decorated envelope with gold calligraphy. "Please come to my party!" he looks at you hopefully, eyes shining.

"I would love to! You know I love your parties!"

"Perfect! I'll pick you up when you're done, okay?" Kalim waves to you.

"KALIM DON'T LEAVE! WE HAVE TO PAY FOR THE NAPKINS! COME BACK!" Jamil has no idea how many sets of napkins he just left with. "Keep the change," he breaths, darting after him.

----

Jamil was taking a rare moment to himself. Lilia and Cater promised they'd keep Kalim occupied for a little while so he could take a breather. They both understood what it was like to look after people, even if it wasn't as serious or to the same degree. The Pop Music Club sessions were normally two hours long, so he had time. Kalim had been yammering nonstop about the Sam's Valentine's setup so Jamil promised to take a look on his behalf.

He grew up around unfathomable finery, almost indulgent to the point of foolishness. Gold forks, gold plates, a knife handle carved from a tree in the Sunset Savanna and inlaid with diamonds--you name it. Perhaps that was why nothing caught his eye, Jamil thought.

So many people were excited about it, though. He had to put himself in their shoes. Their average shoes, just like he was forced to be average lest Kalim feel inadequate.

Poor thing, Jamil rolled his eyes. He was a pro at filtering out noise thanks to Kalim and his ridiculous number of siblings. It was easy to let his brain go and really look at the trinkets and seasonal food. Loathe as he was to admit, some of this stuff was cute.

Jamil let himself bask in the happiness. The freedom.

This is what he wanted for himself one day--traveling, seeing the sights, sampling unusual foods at special times of the year.

Maybe this wasn't so silly after all.

He picked up a few packets of instant curry, only what he felt he could eat and dispose of before fetching Kalim. Curry was a huge weakness of his and he hated that Kalim practically banned it. The amount of caffeine and tea he drank probably bordered on unhealthy (or at least deserved research) but it didn't stop him from throwing a canned coffee into his basket. Because he liked his curry savory and hot, he threw in a strawberry-rose milk drink. It seemed interesting.

Jamil felt the crick in his neck when he snapped his head up in disbelief. Who was this nobody asking you out?!

HOW MUCH DO YOU COST?!

With no Kalim here to temper him, to distract him or force him into the mediocrity, Jamil thought of letting go and lighting the guy up just because.

It really was appalling, his approach. Nothing to offer? What talents or skills did he have? What made him so special, more special than anyone else at NRC?

Nothing, that's what. He probably didn't even know HALF of what Jamil did!

"More than you will ever earn," Jamil answered him. "I'm sure your capacity to make money is on the same pitiful level as your self-awareness. Or do you need glasses to see they're not interested?"

He was known for his biting wit so this was nothing out of character. The way he stared into the boy as if to set him on fire might have been, had no one ever seen him try to get Floyd to cooperate in Basketball Club.

He'd earned his Viper namesake, the boy's ego clearly bitten and bruised as he dragged himself away. His words were deadly, much like Viper venom. Jamil didn't bother watching him leave, setting his basket quietly on the counter and taking out the items.

"Thank you."

All of that venom suddenly dried up. Jamil was feeling quite shy and toothless, not that he'd ever admit it. If he looked up at you, he knew he'd be done for. He could feel his neck heating up.

Unable to resist poking a little fun at him--when did you ever see him blush?--you handed him the change and slapped a smiley face sticker on the back of his hand.

IT HAD HEART EYES!

"I have to go." Jamil took off.

----

Vil was disciplined ninety-five percent of the time so he could indulge the other five percent. Rook all but dragged him to Sam's, waxing poetic about the holiday in all it's pink, sugary glory. He even made Vil promise not to look at any labels while he shopped. Or he could just compromise and let Rook buy him one sweet that he would have to eat no matter what.

That didn't seem too bad, so Vil conceded. Live a little, right?

Several companies had reached out to him in the beginning of February but their products were gluttonous and made him feel sick just looking at them. He felt like he'd be doing his followers a disservice to promote them because they just looked like death in a package. The only one he'd considered so far was a juice from an organic company called 'Beautiful Blends'.

No, not because they had beautiful in the name. The ingredients were organic--he researched the farms--and they had a nutritionist and dietician developing the blends. They had a blend for energy, immune support, digestion, and even one for headache relief. He was interested in the actual beauty blend; it had strawberry, coconut milk, collagen, and several other things he was interested in. It was a milky pink and perfect for Sam to sell during Valentine's Day.

NRC wasn't exactly health-minded outside of Pomfiore so he wasn't worried about missing out. He broke off from Rook, moving with grace and purpose to the refrigerated section. Vil took a split second to admire his reflection in the glass door, satisfied with his skin and the loose hair that escaped his half-bun but had the courtesy to frame his face despite its disobedience. His ring and nails clinked against the glass bottle but he paid it no mind.

"Would you like a basket?" Rook offered his. Vil peered curiously into said basket, unsurprised to see other flavors of Beautiful Blends in there. Rook knew him eerily well. Maybe he knew which ones he'd like to try. He also knew Vil was against overconsumption and wouldn't buy them all at once nor of his own volition.

"I'm fine, thanks." Vil smiled at him, appreciating his constant presence. His discipline and tenacity tended to chase a lot of people away but not Rook. There were people who appreciated him for his routines and followed him loyally, but not like Rook.

Rook wasn't just a 'yes' man. He was Vil's balance in every aspect. As if to prove that, he took the Beautiful Blend from Vil and put it in the basket. Vil didn't like his hands getting wet because that messed with the lotion he applied and it left a weird film on his hands the rest of the day.

"I just said--I BEG YOUR PARDON?" Vil was caught off guard by the flirtation and couldn't believe his ears. It was rare for anyone to surprise him but some NOBODY is trying to make nice with HIS POTATO?!

AS IF!

All he can manage is, "HOW GAUCHE!" as he breezes to the front of the line and stares at the man, absolutely floored. This moment would be a permanent reference for any scene where he needed to look surprised. And lost for words.

And disgusted. And furious.

"You don't think we'd make a cute couple?" the guy teases.

"You want to know what I think?" Vil proceeds to systematically point out the guy's flaws--posture, hair, that one zit coming up in the middle of his forehead--before pointing out that his greatest offense is his sheer selfishness. He's selfish for putting you in a situation where you might cave under peer pressure!

"That's enough, Roi du Poison," Rook shushed him, patting his arm and forcing it down so Vil quit pointing at the little gremlin. If he didn't stop him, he'd keep going. Rook was secretly glad he'd grabbed the Beauty Blend out of his hand earlier; if he was any more worked up it might've gone across the guy's head.

The guy was stunned by the takedown. Vil pointed out things he hadn't thought about. Things he was already insecure about (Vil could tell). "Apologize!" Vil barked in that Housewarden voice.

"I'm sorry." the guy left with whatever trash he bought.

Vil took a moment to compose himself, hands on his hips as he watched the gremlin leave. Fully relaxed, Vil walked to the counter and motioned for Rook to hand him the basket. He set everything out like nothing happened.

"Thank you, Vil."

"It was nothing." he clicked his tongue, waving his hand dismissively.

"Not to me."

Oh, you're clever. And honest. And cute. Maybe he'll drop a hint about his crush in his next interview. Rook forgets he knows French, too, and Vil smashes his hat down on his head on the off chance you know what 'he wants to love you and hug you and kiss you' is in French.

----

It's only natural that Rook would show up for the Valentine's Day sale. He is, after all, a lover of love. Sam never fails to disappoint with his wares and Rook is having a grand time perusing the aisles. There's copious amounts of candy, thoughtful cards, card games for couples, and fill-in-the-blank books with cute phrases and poems!

"You're mine," he smiles at said book, putting it in his basket. There's condensed versions of romantic classics and, had he not read them a million times before, that would be in his basket too. He picks up a pair of heart-shaped glasses for Vil. The desire for liver pate rises in him and he doubles back to check the canned meats. Midway through his careful search, he hears the...attempt...at woo.

A sad, beautiful, nervous attempt.

Rook rises to his full height, feather on his hat dancing almost indignantly as he moves to the front of the aisle. He has half a mind to huck that can of pate hard enough to scare the boy but that would not be very beaute of him.

"Mon amie," Rook drapes his arm around the boy's neck with a disappointed sigh, "There is much to teach you in when it comes to romance."

"Like what? I--" Rook knows that's rhetorical and the guy could care less what he's going to say but he uses his uniqueness to his advantage. He launches into a small monologue about how romance is considerate and kind, not brash and unrefined like that heartfelt confession. Love is delicate like morning dew and tender like the tempting embrace of your bed seconds before you have to get up for the day. Above all, love is knowing your partner in all aspects, which includes when things have gone too far and are not welcome.

Sure, a handful of people left the store entirely but mission accomplished. The guy left shortly after Rook subtly dragged his confession. Satisfied, Rook flashed you a kind smile and unpacked his basket.

"And sometimes love wears a purple hat with a little feather." you smirk at him.

"Oh, Trickster! My heart!" Rook places his hands on his cheeks, face a pretty pink that compliments his green eyes.

---

In the spirit of Valentine's Day, Vil loosened the reigns of Pomfiore's diet for the day. Epel wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth and immediately set off for Sam's. With luck, he'd still have some meats on sale. The holiday was all about fluff and pink and sweets so he wasn't worried about missing out on macarons.

To his delight, there was a selection of macarons. He was in hog heaven! If anyone heard the noise he made, it was probably the deepest and most demented thing they'd heard since Vil got his paws on him and 'refined' him. Epel was going to eat himself sick and regret it in the morning but not right now.

He picked up a second basket just for meats, afraid to crush his beloved macarons. The hamburger buns could share a basket with them, but not the meats. Knowing he had a calorie pass for the day unleashed something primal in Epel. All of a sudden he had SO MANY IDEAS.

Bacon burger? Bacon burger.

Hell, he could even make himself a little less homesick and have a traditional Harvestinian breakfast! He put a small thing of breakfast sausages in the basket. The instant grits were a bit of an insult, as was the 'heat and eat' pulled pork but the portion was reasonable and it wouldn't be money down the drain if Vil confiscated it tomorrow.

His patience begins to thin as he waits in line. The baskets are heavy but they're nothing he can't handle, growing up on a farm and all. The line doesn't seem to be moving at all! What in tarnation?, Epel squints menacingly, leaning out of line to see what the hold up was.

DID THAT NOBODY JUST ASK HOW MUCH YOU COST?!

It's clear you're uncomfortable and even MORE clear that this dude is NOT GETTING THE HINT.

As someone who's been hit on more than he cared for, this makes him mad on a whole 'nother level. You're doing all the right things--redirecting, professional body language--but this guy thinks he's going to get his way.

He's not. Everyone knows it but no one's saying anything.

Well he's gonna. What would his grandma say if he just stood by in a situation like this? He puts his hair up in a ponytail and glares at the guy.

"Were you raised in a barn? Couldn't be because EVEN ANIMALS KNOW WHEN TO LEAVE ALONE AN' GIT!" he gets louder with each word, rolling ups his sleeves. He spares his meat basket a quick glance and picks up the still-cold bacon. It's firmer than the hamburger patties and could give a decent wallop. "GO ON NOW, GIT!" Epel brandishes the bacon.

The guy is understandably confused and concerned. Probably the first time he'd been threatened with cold food. If he wasn't going for beef and bacon, he would've snagged a bag of frozen chicken wings and really wailed on the guy.

"I SAID GIT!" Epel chases him out like the dog he is, the guy narrowly dodging a bacon smack.

Word was going to get back to Vil for sure but he didn't care.

"Looks like you're going to have a good time!" you ring up the meats.

"I'm a free man today! Of course I'm gonna have a good time!"

"Have a good day, Epel. Thanks for stopping by!"

"I...I'd have a better time if you wanted to come eat some of this with me. I-I was plannin' on inviting Jack and Deuce, too. And Ace. Ace likes hamburgers. Vil lets me grill outside of Pomfiore sometimes." he starts to ramble, voice getting smaller and smaller as he goes.

"Sure! I'll grab some drinks and stuff when I get off." you smile, double-bagging the meats.

He's red as an apple when he leaves and that'll get back to Vil, too, but he doesn't care.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “THE WOMAN WAS TOO STUNNED TO SPEAK…” ── .✦ ( batboys w an unhinged!reader and blunt!reader )

a/n: this is from my little brain of mine , and I like to honor it for @kyriakis anywhoo I’m back and omg 1k?! Alsoo guys dw! I’m gonna do the event tomorrow && I’m gonna pick out some prompts I have organized, so i didn't forget okay but i just got a lot of DMs asking when I’m gonna do it for you guyss so yeah it’s gonna be tomorrow since I’m gonna re-edit + add some ideas of your guys votes!! Tags: (batboys x unhinged!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He’s always caught off guard but loves it. Your bluntness is a breath of fresh air for Dick, who’s so used to diplomatic conversations. You say whatever’s on your mind with zero filter, and he’s like, “Oh, wow. Okay. I respect it.”

Hates it when you don’t hold back with him. He’s used to being the charming, funny guy who makes everyone laugh, but you hit him with a “That was dumb, don’t do that again” and his brain short circuits for a second. “You can’t just say that!” “Why not?”

Finds it hilarious when you wreck other people’s egos. You have zero time for anyone’s nonsense, and when someone messes up, you let them know. Dick’s in the background, trying not to laugh. “Do you not think before you speak?!…” He’s always acts so shocked but hey, he’s kinda enjoying it unless it’s aimed at him. (He can’t fight verbally for the life of him without saying some cringe shit)

Doesn’t even try to change you. Dick knows what he’s getting into, and he loves you for it. He’s never going to ask you to ‘tone it down.’ He actually finds your unapologetic attitude pretty hot.

He’s 50% worried you’ll get into trouble, 50% impressed. But in the end, he’ll always back you up, saying, “She’s just honest. Get used to it.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Finally, someone who speaks his language. Jason lives for the fact that you don’t care what people think. He loves how blunt you are, especially when you cut through the BS with the precision of a sharp knife.

Gets protective when people try to push your boundaries. If someone dares disrespect you, Jason’s the first one to step in. “You’ve got a problem with her? You’ve got a problem with me.”, “Jason that was so fucking cringey..”

Appreciates that you don't sugarcoat things for him. You’ll tell him exactly how it is, whether it’s about his attitude or a bad decision he made, and he respects it, it’s like the tt sound where “that’s when it hit me, it was the best idea I ever had..” but like this: “Not gonna lie, that was a terrible plan, Jay,” and he’ll just nod. “Fair.”

You guys have the most chaotic, weirdest conversations. It’s a mix of witty banter, ridiculous one-liners, and deadpan sarcasm. Other people can’t even keep up with the energy.

The idea of dating a ‘good girl’ never appealed to him anyway. He thrives off your unhinged energy. You’re unpredictable, and it keeps him on his toes, which he loves. “Yeah, you’re definitely not boring.” (Although the thing is he does love innocent people, like if you’re like gen clueless he wants preserve your innocence.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s brain can’t keep up with you. Your blunt, no-nonsense attitude constantly makes him blink in confusion. One minute you’re casually roasting someone, and the next, you’re giving a straight-up critique of his latest plan. He’s learning that he can’t outthink you.

He admires your unapologetic honesty. Tim has a lot of internalized doubts, so watching you casually reject anyone’s judgment is a nice contrast. You don’t apologize for your thoughts, and it’s something he secretly admires.

Constantly second-guesses himself around you. Your sharp tongue makes him want to be as confident as you. He gets nervous about saying anything that might sound soft, so when he stumbles, you’re like, “What was that? I swear you just whispered something.” And he’ll blush hard, muttering an apology.

You both have a sarcastic sense of humor that others don’t quite get. You say something outrageous, and Tim will respond with the driest remark possible. People in the room often wonder if you two are joking or just genuinely a bit rude.

Not scared to call him out. When Tim’s too nice, you’ll be like, “You need to stop letting people walk all over you. Grow some teeth.” Tim won’t admit it, but that does motivate him to be a little bolder.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian is a bit taken aback at first. He’s used to people being respectful or like seeing him as kinda a role model, so when you come out with a “That’s dumb, don’t even talk to me right now,” he’s not sure how to handle it. He will stand there, blinking, while processing your bluntness. (He’s too stunned to speak 😞)

Genuinely respects your forthrightness, though. “I’ll admit, I have never met someone so… honest.” He starts respecting you even more, thinking you’re someone he can’t manipulate or charm easily.

Loves that you’re as stubborn as he is. If you’re determined about something, there’s no changing your mind. You’ll fight for your opinions even if it gets you into a heated debate. And Damian’s right there with you, arguing like it’s the most fun thing in the world.

Tries to match your bluntness. “You talk too much,” he says one day, and you immediately reply, “And yet, here you are, listening to every word I say.” Damian actually pauses for a second, impressed. “Right..”

Loves how you’ll shut down his critics with zero hesitation. Someone says something disrespectful to him, and you’ll be the first to shoot back, “He doesn’t need your advice, trust me.” He’ll give you a proud little smirk. “I like the way you handle things.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

At first, Bruce is a bit disconcerted by your bluntness. Bruce’s the kind of guy who expects people to be formal and classy, and you just come in with “This entire meeting is a waste of my time. I don’t care about any of this.” He blinks, then quietly admires your bravery.

Totally respects your unfiltered honesty. Bruce has had enough of the world’s games, so when you don’t bother to pretend or hold anything back, it’s like a breath of fresh air for him.

Secretly loves when you don’t play nice." He knows you're not afraid of saying what you think, and when you call him out on his brooding or overly protective behavior, he listens. “You’re right. I’m sorry for not trusting you more.” (He totally doesn’t have a tracker on your hair clip..🥰)

You both have moments of pure savage honesty that no one else gets. There’s no need for filters, and you’ll both exchange one-liners so dry that it leaves everyone else in the room confused.

Finds it endearing when you make his plans more interesting. “This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this again?” You snap at him in a room full of his board members, and he just gives you a look that says, “I’m never apologizing for you.”

[lvrsfilm]

Johnny and Simon aren't used to domesticity beyond what they can give each other in the quiet of the barracks. They haven't been together quite long enough to share a leave the way they'd like to. But when you came along, and chirped about on one of your weekly calls to them about how they should both just stay at your flat in London when they come back, so the three of you aren't all separated, they couldn't say no.

They didn't know what to expect, duffel bags in hand and covered in grime, sticking out like weeds on the cleanliness of your doorstep. "Door's unlocked" you had told them over the phone when they said they were on their way. Simon does Johnny the favor of opening the door first, stepping inside to cover him as if they're still on the field. But they're not met with gunfire or yelling, not even empty silence. The television is on low, playing a random football (because it is football, birdie) match and the house smells of cinnamon and something hearty bubbling on the stove.

They aren't used to the excited call of your voice from the kitchen, the sound of soft, socked feet padding on the floor towards them. You in a large shirt (one of Johnny's,) and a pair of leggings. They're almost frozen when you take their bags, dropping them to the floor and pulling them both towards you for a hug while you murmur about how you missed them.

But they like it. It's not much different than a shared tray of food in the barracks, followed by a fitful rest on a too hard mattress pad and scratchy sheets. Except it is. It's a shared meal, home cooked, the best thing they think they've ever tasted. It's you checking them over for injury not so subtly as they scarf down their plates, daring to ask for seconds to indulge both themselves and you. A shower, for both of them while you clean up, hot water and soap that smells like you.

They whisper conversation in the shower, about how different and nice it is. Johnny does more of the talking than Simon, who scrubs Johnny's back the way he likes while he listens to Johnny ramble quietly about their lass. About when did she learn to cook like that? About how he never wants to go back to his place, how he could stay here and let her feed him his weight in roast until it was time to leave again. Simon who indulges him with nods and grunts, but who's really thinking about a neat glass of bourbon and having you two draped over his lap where he can bask in your shared warmth because in his mind he's already used to this. He already knows he wants more.

It's Johnny passing out on your couch, drooling onto the armrest, a leg thrown over Simon's lap and a full belly. You coming into the living room with a mug of hot tea for the man left awake. Sitting down next to him and leaning against his side, asking him questions about where work took them and if he needs anything while you comb your fingers through his damp hair, occasionally stopping to catch a stray drop of water with your fingers. Once the cup has gone cold and theres no liquid left, you let him sit in silence as well, not speaking, only lightly pressing your lips to the stubble of his jaw and whispering that you have a surprise for him. Leaving the living room and coming back with a bottle of his favorite. Whispering about how you asked Johnny to make sure this was the right one as you burrowed your way back under his arm. And as he presses a kiss to your forehead, traces circles along your shoulder with his fingers while the other holds the bottle of bourbon on his lap, he thinks Johnny was right.

[xichilie]

i was the one who requested hurt/comfort Brant fic. THANK YOU FOR GRANTING MY REQUEST&FEEDING MY DELULU(≧ᗜ≦) (sorry for bad english huhu T^T)

And I'm here for requesting again! Wdyt abt Brant take care over his spouse who's got very very very drunk, but his spouse who's usually calm&quiet now becomes all flirty and touchy here&there (giving him ton of kisses on his face)? And Brant's response? He's become a COMPLETELY BLUSHING MESS! Head empty bcs how clingy and affectionate she became!

But if you have another scenario let's go with yours! I just wanna see him nervous with red face honestly (sorry /j). That's all! Thank you again pookie! May your Brant&his weapon come early♡!

TOMORROW, OUR BOY WILL FINALLY HAVE HIS BANNER

I wish you and all Brant wanters, Aventurines luck. All brant wanters will be brant havers 😌🤍

_____

Drunk on Love

The fires in Fool’s Elysium burned bright, casting flickering gold across the cavern walls as the Troupe of Fools celebrated another successful performance. The air was thick with laughter, the scent of roasted meat and spiced wine swirling between the revelers, and Brant was, as usual, at the center of it all.

“And then, as the guards closed in, I told them, ‘Ah, but gentlemen, surely you wouldn’t lay hands on a humble man of the arts!’” Brant spun dramatically, arms flaring out. “And just as they hesitated—boom! Gone in a puff of smoke!”

The crowd around him erupted in laughter and cheers, toasting his theatrics. Brant grinned, preening under the attention—until something, or rather someone, latched onto him from behind.

Warm arms wrapped around his waist, a face pressed into his back, and a voice—soft but undeniably intoxicated—murmured, “Brant.”

He barely had time to react before Y/N, usually so calm and composed, turned him around and clung to him.

Brant blinked. “Oh.”

Y/N was flushed, her expression dreamily affectionate, her grip firm as she buried her face against his chest.

“…Oh,” Brant repeated, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, well, what do we have here?”

He tilted her chin up, gazing down at her with playful curiosity. “Darling, you look like you’ve had quite the generous helping of wine. Enjoying yourself, are we?”

She pouted. “Mmhmm. But you—” She poked his chest. “You talk too much.”

Brant gasped theatrically. “Me? Talk too much? Impossible.”

Y/N squinted at him like she was trying to solve a great mystery, then sighed dramatically. “You’re so pretty,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Not fair.”

Brant chuckled. “I can’t say I disagree—”

Before he could finish, she cupped his face and kissed his cheek.

Brant’s brain stuttered.

The surrounding Fools whistled and hooted, but Brant barely heard them. He was too busy trying to process the fact that Y/N—reserved, steady, unshakable Y/N—was pressing soft, lingering kisses along his jaw, moving dangerously close to his mouth.

He stiffened, heat rushing to his face. “Y-Y/N—”

Another kiss, this time right at the corner of his lips.

Brant squeaked.

His usual charm crumbled. He, Brant—smooth talker, silver-tongued rogue, shameless flirt—was suddenly incapable of forming a coherent sentence.

“Alright, alright, I think someone needs a little fresh air,” he managed, voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

Without waiting for her response, he swept her into his arms, ignoring the smug looks and snickers from the others as he carried her toward his quarters.

Y/N only hummed contentedly, resting her head against his shoulder. “You smell nice.”

Brant stumbled.

The journey through the winding tunnels of Fool’s Elysium had never felt so long. By the time he reached his private space—an alcove filled with scattered notes, fabrics, and an absurd number of pillows—his heart was pounding.

He set her down gently, exhaling. “Alright, darling, let’s get you settled—”

But Y/N didn’t let go.

Instead, she tugged him down with surprising strength, pulling him onto the cushions beside her.

Brant let out a very ungraceful sound as he landed, his back hitting the soft bedding, and before he could react, Y/N straddled his lap.

Brant stopped breathing.

She leaned in, her fingers tracing his collarbone before sliding lower, over the fabric of his shirt. “You’re so handsome,” she murmured.

Brant’s brain was gone. Utterly, completely gone.

“Y-Y/N—darling, you—you’re very drunk right now,” he stammered. “I think you should rest—”

She ignored him, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. His breath hitched as she pushed the fabric aside, exposing the faint, intricate glow of his Tacet mark against his skin.

Y/N’s eyes widened in wonder. Gently, reverently, she traced the mark with her fingertips.

Brant whimpered.

No one ever touched his Tacet mark. It was sacred, sensitive, and yet here she was, mapping every line and swirl with delicate fingers. His entire body tensed, his skin burning under her touch.

“Y/N,” he choked out. “If you—keep doing that—I might actually die.”

She giggled. Giggled.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she mused.

Brant let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a groan and a laugh, dragging a hand over his face. “Oh, you are never going to let me live this down, are you?”

She beamed at him, and gods, she was beautiful.

Then she kissed his forehead.

His breath caught.

Then his nose.

His heartbeat thundered.

Then both his cheeks, her lips soft and warm, her hands cradling his face like he was something precious.

Brant shattered.

“Alright, that’s enough, you dangerous woman,” he rasped, his voice uneven. With a dramatic flourish (that was only slightly desperate), he flipped them over, pinning her beneath him.

Y/N gasped, blinking up at him with wide, hazy eyes. “Brant?”

He smirked, though his face was still bright red. “My turn.”

He leaned down—slowly, deliberately—and pressed a single, lingering kiss to her forehead.

Her breath hitched.

Then, with exaggerated care, he kissed her nose.

Her fingers curled into his shirt.

Then, finally, finally, he brushed his lips against her cheek, just barely, before pulling back with a triumphant grin.

“How’s that for theatrics, darling?” he teased.

Y/N’s face was scarlet.

Brant chuckled, pleased with himself—until she pulled him down again, burying her face against his chest with a sleepy sigh.

“Warm…” she mumbled. “Stay.”

Brant softened.

He sighed dramatically but wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin atop her head. “You are going to be the death of me,” he murmured, but there was no heat behind the words.

Y/N hummed in contentment. Within moments, her breathing slowed, her body relaxed against his, and she drifted into sleep.

Brant lay there for a long time, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

“…I am so in love with you,” he muttered to himself, utterly doomed.

And for once, the ever-charming Brant had no idea what to do about it.

Brant had been in many thrilling, perilous situations in his life—performing daring acts on stage, conning pompous nobles, escaping armed guards, even staring down the Dragon of Dirge. But nothing, nothing, had ever left him as utterly helpless as this.

Y/N was clinging to him in her sleep.

Not just loosely holding onto him—oh no—she had wrapped herself around him, arms tucked beneath his coat, face pressed against his chest, and legs tangled with his own. She was warm, impossibly warm, her breath tickling his skin as she sighed contentedly in her slumber.

Brant was losing his mind.

His face was burning, his heart hammering against his ribs like a drumbeat in a grand performance. He had tried—tried—to gently pry her off when he had first realized the situation, but the second he moved, she had whined softly and only held on tighter.

He was doomed.

With an exaggerated sigh, he flopped back onto the cot, staring at the ceiling of his little cavern home. "This is my life now," he murmured to himself, though the complaint held no real weight.

He glanced down at her, a fond smile tugging at his lips despite his still-racing heart. Her expression was so peaceful, so utterly at ease. It made something deep in his chest ache.

Carefully—so carefully—he let his hand move, brushing along her back in slow, comforting strokes. She sighed again, nuzzling closer. Brant bit his lip, trying to suppress the giddy, ridiculous smile threatening to spread across his face.

"Oh, you’re dangerous," he whispered, shaking his head in amused defeat. "Too dangerous."

But as much as he should be trying to escape, he… didn’t want to.

For all his theatrics, for all his flair and bravado, Brant was a man who had gone years without a true place to belong. He had always been the fool, the outcast, the man who danced on the fringes of society. Yet here she was, clinging to him like he was something precious, like he was safe.

He swallowed hard, his fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles against her back.

Maybe, just this once, he’d allow himself to believe it.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax.

If this was the price of taking care of her, of having her trust him enough to cling to him even in sleep…

Then he would gladly let himself be tangled in her warmth for as long as she would have him.

[kurooh]

LOST IN THE FIRE !

⊹₊˚. HAPPY 4/20 2025 — two baked and horny college students + a late night ritual to summon a hungry sex demon = a hot mess! but as satoru famously likes to say, what could go wrong?

warnings: 18+ content, mdni. succubus fem! reader, recreational drug use (weed), crack taken very seriously, threesomes, humor, inaccurate demonic rituals, blood offerings but sexy, oral, unprotected sex, creampies, squirting, throat fucking, extreme marathon sex, ‘this is where you’re weak right’, lots of cum, handjobs, blowjobs, spit roasting, tit sucking, reader is sexy asf! wc / 12.6k DAMN

xoxo, juno: this idea came to me sober btw! happy 420, two months later. comment & rb if you enjoyed, lmk if you caught the jjk easter eggs i threw in teehee

“god, it’s really been too long.” 

satoru exhales a cloud of smoke into the air, and he can feel the tension bleeding out of his slouching shoulders. weeks of built up stress dissipate along with the smoke, and for the first time in a while, he’s finally able to take it easy. he passes the blunt back to his best friend and squints at the laptop screen. it is dark in their apartment, and the air is thick with the heavy scent of weed, all thanks to suguru’s idea to hotbox the place. why follow the no smoking inside rule when you can shove a towel against the front door and keep the windows shut so the neighbors can’t smell it? honestly, fuck them—the people on the left always have something to say, especially to the landlord!

with a wry chuckle, suguru plucks the blunt from satoru’s fingers and raises it to his lips. “it’s been a month, satoru. you were literally the one who kept telling me to be your sobriety sponsor so you could focus on school and work.”

on the illegal (but free!) website, cocaine bear plays on the display, not yet in full screen. satoru loves to watch comedy movies, and this is the only one he’ll ever want to watch when he’s high. as for suguru, he either falls asleep or watches it too. the workload for classes has really amped up in the past few weeks, and as much as satoru hates to say or even think it, he’s genuinely been struggling. scheduling at work has also been a bitch, and utahime, his boss, has the nerve to turn her nose up at him even when he comes in early! if she wasn’t shoko’s girlfriend, satoru would mess with her endlessly.

diamond irises stand out brightly against reddening eyes as he blinks a few times, leaning in to better see the movie. soft voices and sounds pour out of the speakers, just loud enough to hear. the tip of satoru’s index finger lands on the touchpad, and he skates the mouse across the screen to dilate the movie’s picture when he notices a peculiar bookmark just under the search bar.

“what the hell, suguru?” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth; legitimate curiosity and maybe a little excitement slip into the words, and before suguru can snatch away his laptop, satoru pulls it into his lap and scurries onto his own messy bed. “what’s this? it looks weird, i’ve never seen this site before.”

it’s true.

satoru has browsed nearly all corners of the internet, and not once in his twenty four years of living has he seen this website icon before. it’s a black circle with intricate white lines in a shape that he can’t quite make out, and when he dodges suguru’s attempt to drag him off the bed, he clicks onto the bookmark and kicks his feet childishly. 

“dude,” suguru tries weakly, having managed not to drop the blunt. he grabs at his best friend’s flailing ankle and his lips twist downwards, an embarrassed heat creeping into his face. “listen. i promise, it’s really not what it looks like, hear me out—”

“‘how to summon a succubus in five steps’. what the actual fuck is this? suguru, if you’re going through a dry spell, why not just go to the bar near shoko’s place?”

“that’s—it’s a lesbian bar, satoru. for the record, i’d never be desperate enough to summon a succubus. it’s because of yuki, she kept hounding me about this shit. what, you think i’d voluntarily research something like this? she threatened to whip me off her motorcycle when i was on it.”

satoru’s face scrunches in disgust. he doesn’t really like to know that he has friends desperate enough to look into something like this, but at least she’s more suguru’s than his. they met in a similar class at some point and apparently hit it off well enough for her to pass something like this off to him. 

“and you said yes? what happened to the stop, drop, and roll thing?”

“i was drunk and we were on a freeway. this was right after drinking at the lesbian bar, by the way. two women actually hit on me because i wore my hair down that night.”

“where was i? why didn’t you invite me to this little get-together, huh?” satoru sours immediately, already thinking too hard about when this may have happened to register suguru taking a seat on the bed beside him.

“at work,” suguru hums, scooping the laptop into his own lap to explore the web page, “i shouldn’t even be telling you this, but utahime organized it so you’d be stuck working late.”

of course it was her! satoru lightheartedly teases her about her hair bow or her occasional meltdowns when there’s too much work dumped onto her shoulders, and to get back at him, she decides to screw with his schedule. that’s too far, even for her. if he were soberly processing this information, he’d begin plotting revenge, but right now, he’s still thinking about the succubus thing.

“i hate her,” he whines pettily, pulling the blunt away from suguru to take a long, calming hit.

“don’t let shoko hear that.”

“are you—give that to me, i want to read it.” satoru is quick to regain control of the laptop, exhaling smoke through his nose as he navigates the dark webpage. the title, How to Summon a Succubus in Five Steps, runs along the top of the website in a bolded font. upon further inspection, satoru notices the lack of a back arrow and symbol that tells him this is a secure, private site. this website could potentially introduce a virus to the laptop, but suguru just looks on, waiting for his best friend to read the nonsense he’s been researching for the past week.

HOW TO SUMMON A SUCCUBUS IN FIVE STEPS

Before summoning any kind of spirit or demon, it is necessary to understand the

“satoru, why’d you scroll past the introduction? it’s actually informative.”

“i’m not reading all that,” he shrugs in reply, lip jutting out as he impatiently rolls down to the next set of bolded lettering. the laptop feels like it’s radiating more heat through his sweatpants; the screen flickers, flashing black for a split second before returning to normal. “dude, you need to charge this thing. cord should be on the floor, i saw it there earlier.”

after releasing an unwilling groan, suguru begins shuffling around to find the black charging cord. while he fishes around in a sea of clean though mismatched socks and papers for it, satoru clears his throat and begins reading aloud.

“‘to begin, you will need to arrange red candles in the shape of a circle and then light them.’ hey, suguru, while you’re up, can you grab some of your candles?”

suguru brushes his bangs out of his face and throws his friend a mildly annoyed look. “you just said red candles, and mine are all white or blue. also, i can’t find the goddamn charger, so once the laptop dies, that’s my sign to go to bed.”

“so you don’t wanna test out the stuff you’ve been researching? it’s better to go to all this effort so yuki knows it was a good idea to ask you for help. aren’t you the least bit curious anyway?”

“you don’t give a flying fuck about yuki,” suguru deadpans, crossing his arms. his eyes are droopy and red from the weed, but he still manages to speak in that sober monotone of his. clearly, he needs to help satoru finish that blunt all the way. “you’re just interested in the idea of fucking a spirit.”

“weed does more than soothe the mind,” satoru begins nonsensically, pinching his fingers together in a cone shape to make his point hit harder, “it activates the loins and controls every single craving a person could possibly have.”

“the loins?” suguru can’t help but parrot him, completely baffled and still standing like an elementary teacher scolding a bratty student.

“yes. smoke some more and you’ll start thinking with ‘em.”

because satoru never shies away from a challenge, he tips his chin up and smirks like he’s just spoken wise, socratic words. significantly slower than normal, the seconds creep by as they hold the eye contact. between the two of them, suguru is the first to crack, his lips curling back as he bursts into laughter, clutching at his sides as he wilts to the floor. likewise, satoru cackles along with him, unable to remember where he randomly pulled the word loins from—everything feels like it’s been slowed down, his surroundings hazy by the time he finally comes back to himself. while suguru fetches the candles from his room, satoru can’t stop giggling, even when he’s reading the next steps.

suguru arranges the candles in a sloppy, uneven circle and hits the blunt to reward himself, taking a seat on the floor to follow the upcoming instructions.

“‘before lighting any candles, obtain a piece of paper and a working pen.’ why the fuck would anybody use a dried out pen? uh, it says to ‘start this letter by addressing the goddess lilith. use her formal titles and then start writing your erotic thoughts or feelings. put everything out of your mind and focus only on requesting one of her succubi.’ you get all that, suguru?”

“yeah, i’m writing right now.”

“the instructions give a few examples but specify not to use them, so i hope you’re thinking original thoughts.”

messy words are scrawled into the paper, which crinkles against suguru’s thigh, growing wrinkly from being pressed into the material of his sweatpants. he’s trying not to press too hard and rip anything, but it’s kind of hard to focus on one specific thing when the most random thoughts are ricocheting through his head and exiting just as quickly as they came. he manages to finish his final paragraph kindly begging the goddess to consider his request, and signs his name under it. both the pen and paper are passed to satoru, along with a tight-lipped warning. “if you read that shit out loud, i’m taking you outside, satoru. in fact, don’t even look at it.”

in lieu of a verbal response, satoru dramatically rolls his eyes. “since it’s dark, i just rolled my eyes. we’re trying to summon a sex demon, so i don’t really get why you still have the nerve to be embarrassed. that should’ve passed the second you grabbed the candles, dude.”

suguru’s words on the paper were more thoughtful, more profound. satoru just writes a slew of horny things, like he’s trying to customize a video game character—please be soft, don’t be totally evil, please be open to letting me suck your tits. his final paragraph is respectful and kind of a copy of the one a few lines above it, but whatever! despite his insistence that satoru doesn’t read his writing on the paper, suguru hypocritically takes a small peek and groans aloud, pressing a thumb into his forehead.

“‘please be soft?’ what the hell does that even mean? need i remind you we are talking to a demon and could end up being cursed if we show even the smallest bit of disrespect?”

everything flies in through one ear and right out the other. careless as usual, satoru scoffs dismissively. “blah blah blah, it’s not even that serious. i get that you’re afraid, but like—”

“read the next step.”

“‘to seal this letter, prick your finger with a needle—’ hell no, that’s all you. ‘drip the blood onto the letter, light every candle in the circle, and meditate until you feel you’ve completely cleared your mind. then, without folding it, burn the letter and continue to meditate until a succubus comes forth.’”

suguru cringes, but ultimately decides that he must take the plunge. the best case scenario is that they complete the ritual accurately and nothing happens, but they are selfishly messing with the supernatural. he doesn’t know that much about demons, but the name holds a negative connotation—getting on the wrong side of one doesn’t sound appealing in the slightest.

“okay, it also says to cut your palm for more blood if you’re extra serious about this. i’m not doing any of that shit, by the way.”

“satoru,” he sighs exasperatedly through his nose, deadpanning the name, “you wrote in the letter too, so you also have to seal it, not just me.”

“ugh, can’t we just offer chocolate or something?”

suguru relents, because his high brain doesn’t entirely think that satoru’s suggestion is a bad one. no, it doesn’t align with the provided steps for this specific ritual, but during his extensive research, he came to learn that some rituals involved edible offerings and supposedly worked. “i’ll try offering blood, and you do the chocolate.”

“right!” satoru nods thoughtfully, under the impression that he just keeps getting smarter and smarter after he smokes. he proudly sticks up his index finger when he remembers the existence of his sweets drawer, which is always restocked on fridays, like clockwork. “do you want that needle or are you planning to bite your tongue?”

suguru grimaces as the scent of chocolate and sugary candy wafts through the air, thanks to satoru opening his underwear drawer. it is literally divided into two different sections—the left side is taken up by folded boxers and a jockstrap he hasn’t used since high school; the space on the right is claimed by an orange halloween bowl filled to the brim with mini chocolates, hard candies, and too many packets of konpeito.

when satoru comes back from the bathroom with a safety pin in hand, he’s giggling stupidly. it’s dark all over the apartment, and it’s well past midnight—the perfect conditions to summon a succubus. clumsily, he drops the safety pin into suguru’s extended palm and pulls the laptop off of the bed before taking a seat on the floor.

“i can’t believe we’re doing this,” satoru laughs dryly, dragging a hand down his warm face as one brief and sober thought passes through his mind, “i’ve been celibate for far too long, suguru. i think the lack of pussy is actually starting to get to me, i’m beginning to lose smell in my right ear—”

suguru wordlessly relights the blunt and hands it to his best friend. firmly gripping the unclasped safety pin, he jabs it right into his thumb and winces when it goes a little deeper than intended. he snatches the letter and swipes his bleeding finger across his signature, and practically throws it at satoru.

“you good?” smoke billows out of his mouth in thin wisps as he picks up the letter, noticing suguru sucking on his thumb. then, his eyes widen when he notices the wet streaks of red along the paper. “fuck. that’s . . a lot of blood for a dumb ritual, suguru.”

he starts to stand, planning to hunt down an ashtray and a bandaid, but suguru shakes his head, pulling at his leg. “it’s fine. in this case, more is better than less. just get the chocolate on the paper, we need to hurry up.”

he glances over at the laptop while satoru unwraps a hershey’s. it’s pretty much melting now from the heat of his hands, which makes it easier for him to swatch beneath his own signature. it looks weird, especially when compared to the streaks of blood a few inches up the paper.

satoru clears his throat, holding the blunt between his fingers while he skims over the screen again. the words feel harder to read now—it’s like they’re blurry and glitching out whenever his eyes land on the first word in a sentence. “uh, okay. ‘light every candle in the circle, and meditate until you feel you’ve completely cleared your mind. then, without folding it, burn the letter and continue to meditate until a succubus comes forth.’”

“let’s get this over with,” suguru assents, his thumb still spurting blood against the folds of his shirt. “i’ll light the candles and you burn the letter.”

“ew, this is pretty creepy.”

one by one, the peppermint candles are lit up. small orange flames flicker, dancing from side to side, and the light fills the room, giving it an eerie glow. satoru does not believe in spirits, but he shuffles a few inches closer to his best friend in case something spawns out of a candle. maybe he’s just paranoid, he realizes, but he makes no move to get away from suguru.

reluctantly, he reaches into the circle, the letter dangling precariously from between his fingers. he moves it over a candle’s flame, the only one in the circle with the smallest speck of blue, and lets the corner of it catch on fire. everything happens fairly quickly—the hungry flames engulf the thin paper, eating up the ink and offerings within a few seconds. 

shit just got real, suguru recognizes, a sudden awareness prickling in the forefront of his mind. what the hell was he thinking? what kind of person writes some lustful desires on a piece of paper, signs their name, gets blood on it, and then burns it in a sinister circle of candles? his heart kicks against his ribs, and he wonders how he could possibly meditate peacefully when he’s more cognizant than he’d like to be at this point in time.  

his tone leaves no room for questions when he demands, “hand me the fucking blunt, now.”

it’s a lifeline. trembling, he starts puffing away like an asthmatic in the throes of an attack, getting blood on the sides of it with his bad thumb. satoru starts to cough, his eyes watering from the huge clouds of smoke filling the room. heavy and hot, the mingling scents of burned paper and weed hang in the air like a weighted blanket. weakly, he reaches for an abandoned bottle of water under his bed and doesn’t hesitate to suck half of it down. now that he’s back to being comfortably wasted, suguru can meditate without thinking excessively. sure, there’s still a few thoughts that creep in, but he’s able to dismiss them and focus on a positive end goal to this whole ordeal. he swears to himself that he’ll never get involved with the occult again, whether or not this goes well—never again.

satoru crosses his legs and focuses on meditating, eyes closed as he hums long, unintelligible syllables to relax. not far behind him, the laptop is getting battery notifications; it’s about to die very soon, and yet the screen is the brightest it has ever been. suguru doesn’t notice, too engrossed in meditating alongside satoru. if they both channel positive thoughts, maybe this will end better than the way it started.

a light breeze hits satoru’s cheeks, leaving tingles in its wake. it is much cooler than it should be, considering the fact that the windows aren’t open and—the windows aren’t open. they are sitting in a dark room illuminated only by candlelight, with zero air flow. his eyes snap open, and he notices the flames frantically flicking from side to side. 

“oh fuck, suguru. i swear to god there’s something else in here with us, don’t you feel—”

“don’t say anything,” suguru hisses, closed eyelids clenching, “go back to meditating. we gotta make sure we don’t piss it off.”

satoru’s throat is dry and his heart is pounding in his ears, the only sound in the otherwise silent room. okay, this spiritual mess isn’t funny or weird anymore—he is legitimately concerned about being haunted by a fucking demon. what if it’s because he offered chocolate and then the demon didn’t like it? or what if she did, and that’s why she’s going to come after him?

suguru also feels the breeze, but then a nearly unbearable heat tears through his body. it’s so unbelievably hot, strong as a fever, but then it crests right between his thighs. he swallows dryly, his throat clicking. it makes his skin sting under his clothes—the brisk air does nothing to soothe the scorching in his cheeks, and the presence of something else is indisputable. 

beside him, satoru’s starting to twitch. he is deathly afraid and not expecting the very same heat to ignite in his gut; it’s like he’s an hourglass, except the sand is fast moving magma pooling between his thighs. he tries his hardest to concentrate on meditating, even though the sensations are really overwhelming him. just as he’s started to successfully gaslight himself into thinking that it’s just the weed, something physical brushes gently against his throat and sends a chilling wave of dread through his warming body. 

it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, but satoru is extremely on edge nonetheless. “if i die,” he hisses, jaw clenching, “i will be haunting utahime for eternity.”

suguru must be experiencing his own turmoil, because he draws in a sharp breath and straightens his back against the edge of the bed. something both soft and sharp coasts along the slope of his jaw, with just enough pressure to slightly sting. an indecipherable mutter of words as quiet as a whisper echoes through the room, only growing louder with each pass between them. something beyond the two of them is definitely present by now.

this is really embarrassing and he feels like a total pussy, but satoru wants to grab suguru and huddle against him like a last-ditch effort to prevent from freezing to death on an icy tundra. he’s high out of his mind, which probably amplifies the paranoia, and he is uncomfortably aware of the fact that he has helped summon a demon into the very place he lives—yeah, this definitely takes the cake for his top three worst experiences ever.

gradually, the ominous sound climbs in volume until it finally evolves into a shout. what had at first been a low, unsettling hiss is now a deafening chant that blasts through both satoru and suguru’s heads; accompanying the noise is a pressure that’s strong enough to crush a soda can flat. it hurts more than anything ever has before, and just as suguru thinks he’s about to have an aneurysm, everything stops and falls completely silent. the quiet is still jarring to their ringing ears, and is more unsettling than anything else.

when you materialize in the room, you first notice the thick and musty smell of the place before anything else. it has earthy notes of smoke and herbs, but it’s been hanging in the air for so long that it is no longer pleasant. it’s fine, though, because your own scent supercedes the stench of the small apartment—a seductive and sickeningly sweet aroma fills the air, making the candles burn brighter. despite the room’s dim glow and darkness, you can very clearly make out the two male figures seated in front of you. you knew that they were there to begin with, though; fear rolls off of them in heavy, bitter waves that you can taste on your tongue. 

both of them have their eyes closed, although the delicate skin of their eyelids seems to jump or twitch every now and then. perhaps they’re both caught in a nightmare and need to be awakened? you bend forward to observe one of them more closely, without stepping out of the summoning circle, and you reach out a hazy, half-formed finger to touch him. a sharp, manicured nail skims along suguru’s jaw, and he wills himself not to react, but the other man beside him jerks ever so slightly from the accidental graze of your tail against his throat. 

when you’d been summoned, you were excited and expecting much more than whatever the hell this sorry set up is. two men were calling you to an apartment located in a busy suburb in tokyo, and their generous offerings appealed to your two favorite tastes. first, an excessive amount of blood, and second, a sweet snack known to humans as chocolate. a feverish sort of sensation rushes through your body, just from looking at them—without having stepped foot out of the circle of candles, you’re already feeling hot and bothered.

out of nowhere, suguru’s rock hard and nearly choking on his tongue at the feel of it. his cock throbs painfully against his thigh, the tip of it drooling precum into his boxers, and he’s shocked. this must mean that the ritual worked—they genuinely summoned a succubus with an online ritual from 2014.

a thin sheen of sweat forms on satoru’s skin, spanning his whole face and throat, while also dampening his chest underneath his black jujutsu tech shirt. if he knew a supernatural being would be seeing him in a shirt with the name of his college stamped across the front, he would’ve dressed up more for the occasion with a compression shirt of the same color. also, maybe if he wasn’t representing his college, you’d be unable to discern his whereabouts if you maliciously wanted to haunt him. but, like, aren’t spirits and the like all-knowing? does his shirt even matter?

it really looks like they’re asleep, or maybe caught somewhere in the fragile realm between consciousness and slumber. being a succubus for thousands of years simply means that you’ve developed a propensity for kickstarting the arousal of your conjurors, and so long as their offerings are worth something, what’s the point of keeping them waiting when they’ve put so much effort into calling you to them?

you lean in for a kiss, and it is nothing short of electric when your lips meet his. shocks of pure lust reverberate through both of your bodies at the delicious contact, and you can feel his energy swelling in the air immediately. suguru’s arousal is acidic on your tongue as you swallow it down, happily feeding off of such succulence. a mouthwatering tang stands out against the flavor, which amplifies the output of your own energy; in turn, this aggravates their arousal. 

startled though buzzing with desire, suguru pulls back and kicks his feet out to protest against the invisible force. an entity has attached itself to his mouth, and it feels nice but also makes him freak the fuck out. the first thing he can think to do is scamper back and away from the circle, dragging you out of it as well. without the aegis of the sacred candles, you fully manifest in front of them, going from an inpercievable specter to what appears to be a half-clothed female human being, with a few unusual attributes. 

at a loss for words, suguru releases an astonished gasp. satoru protectively slots himself beside his best friend, too shocked to think before he speaks. “what the fuck is that thing?”

in the thousands of years you’ve been a succubus, you’ve heard it all with previous summoners—goddess, woman, angel, demon, beauty, lady—but this is the first time you’ve been called a thing. 

you rise to your full height, looking surprisingly intimidating. the unfurling of your black bat-like wings and the back and forth flick of your heart shaped tail is unusual enough for them to exchange a look of panic. you don’t usually keep them during sex since they can be a hindrance, but you’ve always assumed that they look more sexy than anything else. the fact that they’re so obviously afraid gives you some kind of wicked delight, which prompts you to spread them out further, casting a somewhat menacing shadow over the men.

raising a brow, you glare at the source of the voice; he’s looking toward the floor, unsure of where to direct his gaze. satoru’s diamond blue eyes widen a fraction when he hears your voice boom through the room, authoritative and dangerously demanding. is he starting to lose it or did the walls just shake? “repeat yourself, human.” 

the last thing he wants to do is repeat himself, now aware of the severity of his mistake. for encouragement, suguru digs his elbow into satoru’s belly, urging him to respond. well, shit. how’s he supposed to respond? this is about to get extremely ugly, and even worse, he’s gonna die before he graduates college! he’s way too young for this shit! you can smell more panic leaking out of their souls, the miasma of it poisoning the air and overshadowing the pleasant arousal.

“uh, well. hm . . i was so startled i asked what kind of goddess you were. like, just look at you! anyone’s wires would get crossed seeing you appear in front of them. i’ve never been so blessed.” 

the cracking of his voice makes his lies obvious. he’s only layering it on thick because he’s so afraid of what you might do—as he should be—but this is just pathetic. most thankful summoners would drop to their knees and bow or something, but this . . this is different. this is intriguing. you decide to toy with them a bit further, narrowing your eyes as you take a single step closer.

in vain, satoru tries to scoot back, only for his spine to press against the solid edge of his bedframe. carelessly summoning you has turned out to be a massive mistake, and to make matters worse, he just had to upset you! he wishes he could blame this on someone else, say it was yuki’s fault for putting the summoning idea into his head, but you don’t look amused.

you lean in, tail flicking dangerously behind you. the cloying air feels thicker in satoru’s lungs, like he’s drowning in a tub of honey and trying to breathe at the same time; the light scent in the air has shifted into something reminiscent of rotting fruit. he regrets having closed the window as per suguru’s instructions—it’s getting a little humid. it’s already too sweet. too nauseating.

after nodding quickly at suguru, he decides to open his mouth. you’re waiting for a real apology, aren’t you? surely it’ll help to clear up this grave misunderstanding. but then, you put your hands on your hips and your voice booms through the room once more.

“i should show you what it feels like to have your soul pulled apart thread by thread and then burned in the very circle you used to summon me.”

suguru’s stomach drops. this is actually the end. he’s gonna die and suffer in the afterlife because he decided to take on a succubus research project given to him by yuki, and didn’t hide it well enough from satoru. maybe if they weren’t thinking with the wrong heads, they wouldn’t be in this situation right now! they’d be watching cocaine bear for the thousandth time and eating a mix of snacks from satoru’s candy drawer if it hadn’t been for their stupidity. 

he attempts to say something, but his mouth is completely dry. not a single word manages to form on his tongue, and all he can do is bow his head, pitifully begging for mercy. at his side, satoru looks shell-shocked, like he’s just seen a ghost—in all fairness, he’s currently looking at a variation of one—and tears gather in his eyes. there’s nothing he can do to save himself.

suddenly, you retract the bat wings, and light returns to the room, illuminating their faces. you drop to your knees in front of them, laughing so hard you’re clutching your stomach as you double over. “oh my god!” you manage to gasp out, feet kicking wildly, “you should’ve seen your faces!”

satoru side eyes suguru. both wear the same blank expression, but neither let go of the other.

you sit up, sniffling. tipping your head to the side, you smile, all teasing and tickled. like you didn’t just scare the shit out of them by threatening to kill and curse them less than a minute ago.

“what the fuck,” satoru blurts out, pushing away from his best friend when suguru tugs at his shirt, shaking his head vehemently. “no, seriously, what the fuck?”

“satoru—i’m sorry, he didn’t mean to say that,” suguru attempts to intervene, pulling him back.

you shrug, tail flicking lazily, like that of a cat’s. “it sounds like he did. ‘what the fuck’ what?”

“why would you threaten to kill us? we literally gave you our blood and chocolate! didn’t you read the letter i burned? i specifically said ‘please don’t be totally evil’ in that thing! this seems very evil, y’know!”

“i haven’t stretched my wings out like that in a thousand years! it was really boring being stuck in purgatory, so i just felt like i had to shake things up. no hard feelings, right?”

suguru’s trying to process this information. he presses his thumb into his forehead, trying to sort it out aloud. “so—correct me if i’m wrong, but you were in purgatory for a hundred years and decided to threaten to kill us just for fun?”

“exactly! but i just said that, so why are you repeating me?”

satoru starts talking before suguru can rip into you, more focused on understanding. “what did you do to get stuck there for a thousand years? did you just float there or something? why couldn’t you stretch your wings out?”

you sit up straighter, tits bouncing with the movement. suguru’s totally pissed right now, but damn—even he can admit that you’re truly divine. the personification of beauty and lust all in one, sitting in his apartment. you’re sitting on your knees, facing satoru and focusing on him. good. you can’t see his thirsty ass drinking you in, his eyes tracing over every inch of you.

you’re scantily clad in too much clothing and not enough. black lace barely covers your tits, leaving just enough to the imagination—he can see your nipples through it—while black opera gloves extend from the tips of your fingers to the start of your biceps. suguru’s dark eyes crawl further, finding the sparkling beads lining your waist, and god, that does something to him. the gemstones on each strand in the small stack look otherworldly, impossibly unique and all you.

satoru’s listening to you answer his questions and watching you talk with your hands. “it was a punishment for fucking a demon. he summoned me once and then afterward, i kept coming to him of my own accord, which i wasn’t supposed to do,” you sigh dramatically, not even hiding the fact that you miss whatever demon you’re talking about. “he had a mouth on his stomach and like, four arms. could you even blame me for going back to him? of course not. anyway, purgatory’s kind of like the place between heaven and hell. there’s no passage of time or any entertainment. it’s kind of like sleeping, but with your eyes open and without being able to move.”

satoru’s trying to pick his jaw up and off the floor. how the fuck could demons with four arms and stomach tongues roam this very earth? he looks at you, motioning for you to continue. as much as he hates to say it, this is kind of interesting to listen to. “and the wings?”

“oh, they were taken away through a cursed technique. that’s just an ability that my higher ups have, nothing super important, but my wings were missing that whole time. i only just got them back.” suguru’s completely ignoring what you’re saying. he’s buried in his thoughts, too focused on the lower half of your body to notice anything that may or may not be happening. you’ve got these black leg garments on—he can only equate them to stockings or thigh highs, even though they look a little different than what he’d see in a clothing store. he sneaks a dirty glance at your panties, eyes lingering at the lack of coverage on your ass. 

the black strings arch over your hips, leading into an extremely thin bit of fabric and lace covering your pelvis. maybe, just maybe, this succubus summoning ritual might actually be something he could be okay with.

“i saw that,” you say suddenly, calling him out. suguru looks up, his eyes meeting yours, and you can faintly see the red of his cheeks in the dark. “i can feel you looking at me. both of you.”

satoru scoffs, dismissively waving his hand in the air. “don’t start with the threats to kill us for looking at you. it’s not like your eyes are closed either.”

impressed, you raise a brow. his audacity sparks your curiosity and also your arousal. the effects can be felt throughout the room—suguru sits up straighter, and satoru adjusts himself.

“you did call me here for a reason. generously offered me blood and chocolate so i’d come.”

the mention of blood reminds suguru that he is still bleeding. it’s too dark to see clearly, but going off touch alone tells him enough; a lot of it has soaked into the lower half of his shirt and has probably stained it for good. he sees you inhale through your nose, detecting the faint traces of it in the air, and then you’re on all fours, creeping forward like a panther waiting to pounce. he swallows dryly, hearing the click of his throat, and isn’t sure if he should feel afraid or strangely turned on by the predatory look in your eyes.

you reach out and take his hand, nails lightly raking against his skin. he doesn’t pull away, even when you experimentally squeeze at his injured thumb and watch the blood bubble up. satoru glances at his best friend, wondering if you’re pretending to inspect suguru’s hand with the intent of biting it off. he understands that succubi are different than vampires, but after that stunt you pulled earlier? satoru can’t trust you completely. 

something warm, wet, and silky soft envelops his thumb. 

suguru tilts his head down, and your burning eyes meet his own. it’s nearly impossible not to moan as you suck on his thumb, tongue swirling around the sore skin in a way that manages to be delicate and effortlessly sexy all at once. all he can do is squirm and bite his cheek while satoru just watches, slackjawed. hell, if he knew he’d be getting this kind of treatment afterward, he would’ve offered plenty of blood! the sight gets him hot and bothered, way more than it should, and he emits a choked noise from beside his best friend, suddenly aware of how his boxers feel a few sizes too small. 

“uhhh . . do you want any chocolate with that?” he’s halfway through the sentence when his voice breaks cutely, and your eyes flick toward him, glowing with amusement. “i’ve got plenty of kit-kats, if you’re into those.”

sighing softly through your nose, you let go of suguru’s finger with a pop to focus on his best friend. he looks over his finger incredulously, no longer feeling the wound’s sting; your saliva coats his skin and glistens in the low light. would it be weird if he wanted to taste it?

a sly smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. “the chocolate can wait until after i’ve had my fill of what i came down here for. i’ve been kept waiting for too long anyway.”

there’s a beat of silence. the tip of your tail drags slow and teasing along suguru’s throat, and satoru just stares at you like he can’t believe he’s gotten so lucky.

you raise a brow, feeling the lust flare in the air. the energy is plentiful and strong, fueling the cycle of desire—it arouses you, which reflects back to them more intensely. “you, let’s share a piece of chocolate.”

satoru looks confused, but reaches for the bar he used for the letter. “didn’t you just say you were done with the chocolate? did the thousand year imprisonment have any mental affects?”

you scoff, thinking through your list of comebacks. you could take the easy route and roll your eyes, saying something like i know what i said, i changed my mind but where’s the fun in that? you are the one in control here—if you willed it, they’d bow down to you—as you should be. 

“i’ll fuck him on your bed while you watch,” you tilt your head toward suguru, whose eyes widen a fraction. did you just say you’d fuck him on satoru’s bed while also forcing the latter to watch? it makes some sense—you are a mischevious demon, after all. a very sexy and seductive one, at that.

satoru places the half melted piece of chocolate between his lips. you lift yourself into his lap and push your gloved hands into his messy hair before tugging his face toward your own. part of the chocolate breaks when you bite it and take it into your mouth; it’s light and sweet on your tongue, but satoru would taste a thousand times better.

chocolate smears against his lips as his mouth meshes with yours in a scorching hot kiss. the candy tastes much better when you’re perched on his lap and licking it out of his mouth like you can’t get enough. satoru lets out a debauched moan, more than pleased with how you’re kissing him—his cock is painfully hard against your ass, and despite the layers of clothing between your bodies, you can feel each inch of him.

suguru sits back and observes, feeling the heat of desire sweltering under his skin. fuck, you’re not even kissing him, and he wants to moan just from watching! are you really attractive or is he discovering something new about himself? satoru tips his head down, trying to change the angle of the kiss, and your fingers are already on his chin, tilting his face up without any concern of being gentle or not. he groans, weakly attempting to grind you down on his cock.

“shit,” suguru mutters, reaching toward the waistband of his sweatpants.

with one final dip of your tongue into his mouth, you pull away from satoru and look just in time to catch the feverish devastation flash across his face. you might be starving for some sex, but nothing beats the slow burn of foreplay—it’s more than necessary right now.

“your turn, suguru,” he’s flushed and breathing a little heavier than usual, but he nods, stretching out his legs for you to come and sit on his lap. instead of situating yourself the same way you did on satoru, you balance your weight on your knees, positioning them on either side of his thighs. “oh,” you coo, swiftly undoing the tie of his neat bun, “look at this gorgeous hair.”

brightening at the compliment, he gives you a half smile. “thank you. i actually—”

in the background, satoru groans, sounding petulant when he interrupts his best friend. “okay, suguru. you’re gonna bore her if you start going on about the shampoo and oils you use.”

“i was going to say that i actually think the bed would be more comfortable right now.”

he’s in the middle of his stupid bickering with satoru when your soft hands slide against his neck and immediately draw his attention. you shush him with a low, quiet sound and lean in for a kiss that instantly adds a dangerous amount of fuel to the fire raging deep in your belly. you’re nearly sick with desire and drowning in the overwhelming waves of everything that accompanies it—there is so much that the excess seeps into your movements, making every single one all the more intoxicating.

satoru’s a little pissed. actually, scratch that, he’s a lot pissed. he’s being forced to sit back and watch the succbus that he helped to summon ignore him for his damn best friend. yes, suguru deserves some love, but not this much! you’re rocking your hips over his lap and swallowing all the soft sounds he makes, sometimes muffling them with your own, and it is genuinely one of the worst things he’s ever had to watch. you must feel his eyes on you, or you really like suguru’s hair, because you thread your fingers in it and tug hard enough to elicit a drawn-out groan of fuuuck that comes from deep within his chest.

“ahem. allow me to remind you that i helped to summon you too. do i look like some kind of cuck to you?” satoru practically spits the question out, narrowing his eyes at the both of you. “suguru, don’t you dare say yes.”

“if he won’t say it, i will,” you tease, throwing him this smarmy smile even though he shakes his head in warning. as expected, you just ignore it. “yes, you do.”

you stand, much to suguru’s dismay, and with a wave of your hand, both your tail and wings disappear into thin air. now, you look completely normal—if being flawlessly beautiful is a normal human trait. the bed creaks gently under you as you lay back against the pillows, looking like a medieval queen upon her throne, and with a single finger, you beckon them closer.

“show me why i should grant your requests. both of you.”

the mattress dips under satoru’s added weight when he sidles up beside you and pulls you into another sweet kiss. since he isn’t quite sure where you’re okay with being touched, he decides to play it safe by cradling the side of your face with his palm—you can feel the energy spike in the air and taste the comfortable petnames he whines into your mouth.

reverant as can be, suguru bows forward and slots himself between your thighs, tossing your legs over his shoulders. he’s radiating enough warmth to be comparable to a damn oven—even through his shirt, you can feel the shape of defined muscle. a shockwave bolts right to your pussy at the thought of stripping them both naked; but you can’t rush. not yet.

wait, this is totally insane! too many thoughts race through suguru’s mind at once, but he doesn’t allow the doubt to impede his rhythm. even the idea of fucking a succubus and ruining sex for the rest of his life doesn’t stop him! those soft lips of his drag hot and languid against the tender skin of your inner thighs, scattering kisses around the place where you need him most. he wonders if succubus pussy tastes different than that of a human’s, and feels his cock leak at the idea of it. it’s painful, being this hard—you must have some kind of divine effect on him.

with your tongue in his mouth, satoru can’t think. he’s completely blissed out, his diamond eyes unfocused and blurry as you kiss his judgment away with those pillowy lips. just when he’s pressing you closer instead of taking a moment to breathe, you grab him by the dick and squeeze. your grip is firm and authoritative, leaving no room for resistance—not that he’d want to, of course. 

sharp and delightfully startling, your teeth sink into his lower lip. the light sting reverberates through his head like an echo in an empty hall, and fuck—he gasps, eyes rolling back into his skull. how the hell is he meant to show you that he deserves to have his ridiculous requests granted when you’re playing him like a violin, tugging his heartstrings every which way?

“you’re awfully sensitive, satoru,” you giggle, twisting your wrist. “i haven’t even gotten my bare hands on you yet.”

yet, you say, like you haven’t practically broken him already. he huffs, blowing hair out of his face, and attempts to regain any semblance of control. “well, neither have i.”

you tug your gloves off; suguru’s nose bumps against your clothed clit and you let out a moan, face scrunching. he’s right there—so god damn close to where you need him and still refusing to give. you glance down, only to be met with a smirk and eyes that are twinkling with mischief. have you met your match?

“use your words,” he punctuates his demand with a slow, agonizing drag of his tongue over the thin fabric of your panties. he’s looking at you like he’s daring you to snap at him, like he’s just waiting to show you what he’ll do—what an asshole.

you hum thoughtfully, focusing on suguru while your hand dips beneath satoru’s waistband and teases his cock through his boxers. “i’ll bite. i want you to devour me like a sweet fruit—juices pouring down your chin as you lick the excess from your fingers to savor all of it.”

the piquant visual makes his mind hazy. if you want to be devoured, then devoured you shall be.

“what, you’re gonna leave me hanging?” in an attempt to level the playing field, satoru gropes at your tits, squeezing the soft flesh in his hands. there. now you’re both grabbing one another.

“poor baby wants attention, huh?” you run your thumb over the tip of his cock, pressing at the wet spot on his boxers. satoru absolutely hates to admit it, but this banter with you is annoyingly enjoyable. your little prank had seemed like a true, honest to god curse, but this is a blessing—each exchange turns up the heat more and more.

suguru’s tugging your panties down your hips, careful not to bring your thigh highs down too. hooded and flushed, his eyes are focused only on your body but do occasionally flick over to satoru, who’s putty in your hands. he goes back and forth with you like his bratty ass usually does with anyone he first meets, and you dish it out right back to him. what a sight.

with an unfortunate rip, your panties are torn off you and the mess of lace is tossed haphazardly to the floor. you arch a brow at suguru, who only shrugs, smirking as he draws closer to your messy cunt. his flutter shut as he runs his tongue through your folds for a taste, and fuck, he really does want to devour you. he’d sit you on his god damn face if he could and let you ride his tongue for hours, until it got so sore he could barely talk the next day.

saccharine and something close to ambrosian, your pussy tastes like all of the good things in this world. it’s addicting, the kind of thing he’d want to come home to on the table every day, and he lets out a deep groan that reverberates through your lower body. his hands come up to your hips and he drags you closer, burying his face against you so he can truly drink you in. the tip of his nose rubs against your clit and feels like an electric shock that zips through your stomach.

“fuck,” you breathe, head falling back onto the pillows, “you know how to use that tongue, don’t you?”

satoru doesn’t say anything. doesn’t ask for your attention, doesn’t make any witty comments about you being more focused on his best friend. he just acts, tucking his face against you and pressing kisses to the slope between your neck and shoulder. most of them are wet and mouthy, while a few of them have a little teeth. large hands come up to your chest and pull away the skimpy lace; the bra is replaced by his palms, and it feels like he’s won when you let out a sigh.

“have at it, satoru. i suppose you’ve earned it.”

a mess that’s equal parts his and yours coats suguru’s flushed cheeks as he slurps up your pussy, holding your hips so tightly that you can only move forward. each pass of his tongue is oh so rough as it dips between your folds, seeking more of your sweetness; he lets out muffled groans and shakes his head from side to side, pressing his nose directly into your clit.

his long, dark hair makes its way into his face, but even so, he pushes forward. it might be a bit of a ticklish distraction, but it will not stop him—nothing could, not even you genuinely threatening to destroy his soul with your bare hands.

satoru moans happily when he gets one of your nipples in his mouth. your skin is so soft, just like he’d wished for, and your tits are like heaven’s version of a pillow. he could lay against you and suck your tits all day long, if you let him. hot and overly eager, his tongue swirls around your hardened nipple while he tweaks the other between his fingers, making sure not to leave you feeling unsatisfied.

with one hand, you push your hands through suguru’s hair, dragging your nails against his scalp. the contact makes him sigh into your pussy, but what really gets him is when you wrap it around your hand and tug like he’s some kind of misbehaving dog on a leash. he grunts noisily, his hips instinctively rutting into the bed for some friction.

“oh my god, suguru. you look so fucking good when you’re making a mess, sweetheart.”

you calling him a sweetheart is going to be the death of him, he swears. it’s already enough that you’re saying his first name, but now you’re throwing petnames around—don’t you know he’ll make you cry for that?

“and you, satoru,” you purr, arching into his touch, “you’ve got my attention now.”

with renewed vigor and sinful intent, your hand moves between his boxers and sweatpants. he sucks harder at your tit, the edges of his teeth grazing the nipple; your fingers loosely curl around the clothed head of his cock. nobody’s getting naked until you cum—if either of them thought this was a lot, they’re in for a succubus-style surprise in the next few minutes.

you stroke him lightly, focusing more on pressing the pads of your fingers into the soft underside of his tip. every touch there makes him gasp and buck into your touch, desperate for more. satoru’s starting to pinch your nipple between his fingers, and the pain that goes with it feels so good, especially when it’s combined with suguru’s mouth between your thighs.

it’s not enough. 

there’s so much of your slick coating his face, but he still needs more.

suguru lets go of your hips, changing the positions of his hands. one palm presses into your lower stomach, and he pauses, sucking your clit while he slides two thick fingers inside of you. the sensation of being almost full makes you moan, your hips rolling forward, and you unintentionally squeeze the tip of satoru’s cock, nails digging into the sides.

everything blurs into a nasty whirlwind of spit, sex, and the like from there.

saliva coats much of your sore tits by now, but satoru’s head never comes up. he’s too busy biting at your nipples and then laving his tongue over them to make up for it—whenever you like what he’s doing, you stroke him a little harder. tighter, too, if you’re really feeling it. suguru’s grinding against the bed while he eats you out, something that he’d picked up once you’d started to pull on his hair. the sounds that come from your sloppy cunt are truly obscene—loud, wet slurps and sucks fill the room along with the moans from all three of you.

suguru’s pressing down on your lower belly, because he knows that it makes you feel extra good; selfishly, though, he just wants to feel how tight you can get. he’s lost track of how long he’s been between your legs, and normally, he’d get tired, but the arousal raging through his body keeps him going. so does your hand in his hair—you’re tugging him around, taking all that he gives, and fuck, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love it.

“mmmm, baby,” hot and heavy, satoru’s panting against your chest and rutting into your hand, chasing the friction you’re giving him just enough of, “s-shit, that pace—i’m so close, so close.”

your lips round around a moan of suguru’s name; your thighs are shaking on either side of his head, and his eyes flit up to meet yours. again, that same daring look—although he looks more debauched this time, with his flushed, sweaty skin and the lower half of his face buried in your cunt.

pent up with an otherworldly amount of arousal, satoru’s cock throbs in the palm of your hand and his breaths become more frantic, more gasping. he’s trembling, clinging to you with both arms, and you laugh, taking the words right out of his mouth. “you’re gonna cum, huh? you’re really gonna make a mess in your clothes?”

it’s said with a derision that would stop any normal person in their tracks, but satoru just moans, nodding shamelessly. you continue on, fingers tightening around him. “oh, talk about being dirty. you really like the idea of that, don’t you? my god, and i’m supposed to be the sex demon here.”

satoru whines, and it’s most definitely his lust speaking for him when he says, “keep talkin’ dirty to me.”

electric euphoria hisses through your veins, and you’re quick to realize how close you are. just beneath suguru’s large palm, an unstable pressure seethes like magma in a volcano—ultrahot and undeniably explosive. something’s coming, and it’s not just you and satoru.

your fingers press into the underside of his cock, and it’s so damn sensitive there that he gasps sharply, nearly choking on his own spit. you fight the wavering in your voice and lean in close, so that your warm breath fans against the shell of his ear. “this is where you’re weak, right?”

that’s it. 

satoru dies and ascends to heaven right then and there. he cums hard, spilling white and hot into your hand, cock jerking with the aftershocks. slumped against you and reeling from the ecstasy racing through his body, satoru has been pronounced dead. for now, at least.

you wipe your cum covered hand across his shirt, feeling the sharp ridges of his abdominal muscles through the fabric. with him taken care of, you can now focus on the main event—suguru can’t even breathe as you rock your hips into his mouth, your face scrunched with concentration. 

having pinpointed your sweet spot, his fingers curl deep and hard into the soft tissue. it’s a bullseye if you’ve ever known one. suguru stares up at you like it would physically hurt him to look anywhere else; you can see the hunger buried in his eyes, they way it twinkles as you hump against his open mouth.

“fuck, suguru,” you moan, voice breaking, “i-i’m gonna cum, oh my god—‘m gonna cum.”

you cum hard, pussy squirting like a waterfall and squeezing so damn tight around his fingers that they’re forced out. finally, after what’s been a beautiful eternity, you release his hair so he can pull back and breathe. he does, briefly gulping in some air before swan diving right back between your thighs for more?!

his tongue drags along your soaked inner thighs, and he laps up all of the excess cum before sitting up on his knees. a mix of cum and spit covers more than half of his face, making his skin shine—he really did eat you like a juicy fruit, didn’t he? suguru makes no move to wipe the wetness dripping down his chin, but instead smirks triumphantly.

“i want—i want a taste, suguru. you were hogging her pussy the whole damn time.”

satoru stirs, seemingly coming back to life. wait, did he actually fucking pass out for a minute? 

his best friend scoffs, rolling his eyes. “have at it, satoru. i’m sitting up here now.”

satoru’s fingers close around suguru’s wrist, and he pulls his hand toward his mouth. satoru momentarily sucks at suguru’s sticky fingers before the latter puts an end to it, tugging away. if he had a nickel for every time someone sucked on his fingers, he’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice, and in one night, nonetheless!

the delicate strands of beads on your waist jangle softly, and their heads snap in your direction. you’re on all fours, looking at them with those smoldering eyes that say more than your mouth does, and something in the sweet air shifts. their pulses quicken; their bodies move before they can even think about it.

suguru taps his sticky fingers against your lips and pushes them into your open mouth, letting you taste yourself. “i want to see what this mouth can do, sweetheart.”

satoru’s hands are settling on either side of your waist, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “god, i’ve been waiting for this. pretty pussy for an even prettier girl.”

“please, keep talking to me like i’m a human. we’ll see where it gets you, satoru.”

he smacks your ass, uncaring of the fact that you could smite him if you so wanted to. “the wings and tail are gone, babygirl. since we just proved ourselves as worthy, let’s all pretend to be normal human beings.”

“if you wanted me to keep it normal, we’d be sitting around waiting for you to get hard again. had it not been for my power, you’d—”

suguru tilts your chin up, using your cheek to wipe away the wetness from his fingers. “we’re helping you as much as you’re helping us. satiating that appetite of yours is gonna take a while, so why not go along with it?”

that is true. truthfully, you’re just pushing them around because you can, but they’ve either seen through your act or don’t give a damn about the extra respect. you won’t kill them. you answered their summons with an agenda of your own, one that requires their participation.

“i haven’t played the role of human in a thousand years,” you say contemplatively, just to look like you’re being slowly convinced rather than immediately admitting defeat, “fine. fuck me well and i’ll go along with it equally as well.”

the ritual of undressing begins. you watch as suguru divests himself of his long sleeved shirt and his baggy lounge pants, tossing both articles of clothing onto the floor without looking back. luckily for them, nothing is thrown onto a lit candle. satoru’s clothes come off too, his cum smeared shirt flying over your head and landing on top of the clothing pile.

something akin to nervous excitement swirls in your chest. it’s been a thousand years, and you’re finally back at it again—taking two cocks from the get go. being double stuffed isn’t necessarily a new experience, especially with your past flame, but this is a little bit different. instead of having two cocks in one hole or one in your pussy, the other in your ass, you’re going to be taking one down the throat while getting fucked.

you’re excited, there’s no doubt—satoru’s dragging his tip along your slit, gathering spit and cum to use as lube—and thinking of finally being used again wipes the worry from your subconscious. it’s been so long you can’t even remember what a human cock felt like; the last two demon dicks left quite the impression on both holes, superceding all else.

long, thick, and curving to the right, suguru’s cock bobs in front of your face. you have to tilt your head back just to look up at him fully—there’s so much muscle defining every inch of his body, shaping it into something strong and sturdy. his arms flex as he ties his hair back, into some kind of half up, half down style for better movement.

precum beads at the wet tip, some of it dribbling down. the sight is absolutely appetizing; saliva pools on your tongue, and your throat aches for him. he decides to tease you for a moment, before remembering that he’s actually denying himself relief as well.

suguru guides his tip along the seam of your mouth, getting your lips glossy. he looks down at you, his eyes droopy, and he chuckles. “what’s the matter? too big to fit, honey?

you roll your eyes, opening your mouth. your teeth gleam in the dark, sharp at the ends and a little predatory. “i can always cut you down to size.”

satoru presses the head of his cock forward, working only the first few inches into your pulsing cunt. “that’s not how humans talk about dicks, baby. you should say something like, ‘yeah, but i still want to give it a try’. hear the difference?”

“if i were you, i’d worry about not passing out this time,” you snicker, raising a brow in suguru’s direction. “i won’t actually bite. you have my word.”

“uh huh,” he works a hand into your hair, threading it tight around his fingers, and only then does he bring his hips forward. his cock slides into your mouth, the weight of him hot and heavy on your tongue. faintly, you can taste the subtle saltiness of his precum on your tongue, and god does it make you crave more. suguru exhales sharply once he bumps into the back of your throat, his shoulders relaxing. “not too deep, hm?”

you nod in assent. behind you, satoru pushes deeper and deeper, moving as slowly as he possibly can. for what reason, you don’t know—but the feeling is all that matters right now. it’s as frustrating as it is pleasant, which pisses you off, but there’s nothing you can say about it. 

suguru’s starting to rock his hips into your face when satoru’s nails dig into the soft skin of your waist, leaving marks between the strands of beads. “oh my fucking god. how the hell are you this tight? suguru, it’s—she’s literally sucking me in. you have to see this.”

“not right now,” suguru shakes his head and his bangs bounce with the movement. he’s focused on how god damn tight your throat is, and how every single gag of yours makes it even better. everything in his body is telling him to choke you with his cock, fuck your face until neither of you can breathe, but he doesn’t. he’ll take it easy on you, just for now.

satoru finally bottoms out, seven inches deep into heaven. your walls are pulsing around him, sucking him as far in as possible, and he almost feels offended. it’s like your body thinks he wants to pull out—but how could he, when you feel like this? why the fuck would he want to?

“i’m not as gentle,” he growls, pulling your ass snug against his hips. “i’ll fill up this pussy again and a-fucking-gain. you saw it earlier—i don’t mind making a mess.”

you can only let out a gurgled moan around suguru’s cock, spit pouring down your chin. he talks a big game—you’re more interested to see if he can back it up.

once suguru feels like you’re accustomed to his cock and tired of feeling the restraint ripple through his shallow thrusts, he pauses to let you breathe through your nose. “i taught you how to take it, huh?” you nod, clearly interested in what he has to say next. “i want to see if you can put those skills to use, sweetheart. open.”

because he’s still bitter about you having scared the shit out of him and his best friend, satoru slams into you the moment you open your mouth and suguru’s cock goes in. a wide, almost evil smile spreads across his face when he hears you choke; that was his revenge for your little joke a while ago, and this will be to fulfill his own selfish desires.

satoru’s heavy balls smack into your clit with every frenzied thrust of his hips. he’s chasing his high, that sweet feeling of ecstasy that comes along with filling someone up; he also wants to leave some kind of evidence that he was lucky enough to have you, preferably something that you’ll remember. if your exhausted pussy is oozing load after load of his cum, you’ll definitely commit him to memory.

“shit, baby,” the image of you conjured by his mind’s eye is powerful enough to make him whine like a bitch as he ruts into you, “all you’ve done since we summoned you is drive us crazy. ready for some fuckin’ p-payback?”

“she’s too busy to answer you,” suguru sounds both broken and triumphant as he fucks your mouth, savoring the sounds of your wet moans and occasional gags. “this throat’s all i could need for payback. fuck, you really are a fast fuckin’ learner.”

the claps of your ass are loud, ringing through the apartment like gunshots, but none of you could bring yourselves to care about any future noise complaints. your throat is being fucked open while your pussy is stuffed full at the same damn time—maybe this was worth waiting a thousand years for.

satoru’s hand comes to press down hard against your lower belly, making you squeeze tighter around his cock. the added pressure makes it feel like he’s all up in your lungs, punching the breath out of you with each feverish slam of his hips. spit and cum drip down your inner thighs in sticky trails, staining your lacy stockings; a lot of it has gotten all over satoru’s pelvis, strings of it connecting his skin to yours.

you let out an inhuman mewl as suguru’s cock plunges into the very back of your throat, leaving a dent that is uniquely his. you can faintly hear yourself sobbing over the sound of your pounding heart, can feel the tears rolling down your cheeks. this is good, so good—but it feels like too much and too little at the same time. they’re both giving it to you pretty well . . perhaps you’re just insatiable after a thousand years without sex.

suguru breaks first. “i want you to swallow every last drop, and you’re gonna show me that pretty fuckin’ tongue before you do, ‘kay?”

“you’re so nasty,” satoru pants, exerting himself too much to even laugh, “fuck. i’m not that far off either, baby.”

bittersweet cum spills into your mouth, hot and thick on your tongue. suguru’s groaning as he lets go of your hair, looking down to see you follow through on what he asked you to do. you open your mouth, showing off the mess on your pink tongue, and he actually moans at the sight.

“you’re fucking incredible,” he can’t even finish his sentence in peace; you make a big show of swallowing it and making your throat click. “you’re such a good girl.”

“then where’s my reward?” you rasp, sounding even better than before.

“right here,” satoru reaches a hand around your body, his fingers easily finding your swollen clit. his ministrations are executed with the same dexterity he’d exercised on your nipples; each rub or pinch sends sparks shooting through your veins. “cum all over this cock, baby. in fact, scream my name while you’re at it.”

suguru scoffs, hand on his cock as he sits back and watches. “you’re impossible.”

your arms collapse under you, and your body tilts forward, ass going up like a seesaw. “oh my god,” satoru grits his teeth, watching you writhe against the mussed blankets and listening to you moan, “y-you’re so fuckin’ deep, satoru. right there—oh!”

his eyes roll back when you fuck him back, throwing your ass back onto him to meet each and every single one of his sloppy thrusts. you’re angling your hips with each swing, forcing the tip of his dick into this soft spot inside of you, one that’s close to your cervix. 

“fuckfuckfuck—ugh, i’m gonna cum,” satoru’s fingers are staggering, shaking on your clit, and his chest is heaving, working to breathe against the impending euphoria. he comes undone with a delicious groan that dissolves into smaller, bitten whines; it’s the heat of his cum shooting deep into you that pushes you over the edge next.

“‘m cumming, satoru,” you manage, your voice breaking pitifully. wave after wave of bliss crashes over your body, nearly drowning you, and it’s a god damn mess when you cum. you’re shaking so hard your teeth are chattering, squirting cum all over satoru’s pelvis while you’re at it; he teases your clit rather roughly and laughs as more sprays onto his skin. 

something warm slides against your skin as suguru lifts your face from where it’s pressed into the bed. sticky cum covers both of his hands, and you can only surmise that he was jerking himself off while he watched you and his best friend. “you still with us, angel?”

you are everything but an angel, but you still respond to the petname, nodding. there’s this wild gleam in your eyes that tells him everything he needs to know—suguru just nods, teeth sinking into his lower lip.

“whew, holy fuck,” satoru steadies himself with a hand on your back, not wanting to pull out of you just yet, “did you actually just squirt on me, baby? this is some next level pussy magic.”

.  .  . 

the bed rocks under all three of your bodies, scraping along the floor and groaning dangerously from the movement on it.

round after round, position after position, orgasm after orgasm.

it’s a neverending cycle that leaves the three of you slick with sweat, panting with exhaustion, and messy with ungodly amounts of cum. suguru slides his cock out of your fluttering cunt with a groan, both him and satoru watching as load upon load of cum oozes out. you never tell them it’s time to take a break—if one’s tired, you’ll fuck the other, or take them at the same time—in fact, you tell them that it’s not enough.

god, you’re insatiable.

satoru gathers the hot globs of cum on his fingers and pushes it back inside you, using the excess as lube for your abused clit. an acidic mix of unequal parts affection and lust hisses through his nerves upon hearing you whine out his name—it’s all your voice has been reduced to thanks to merciless throat fucking and screaming elicited by being split open on their cocks.

this is the nth round of the night—early morning, actually. they’ve been fucking you for a few hours straight, mostly because you’re so horny that it impacts them, but also because your presence opposes refractory periods. it almost hurts, because neither have much left to give, but then you’re pulling another orgasm out of them and nothing feels real again.

eventually, the bedframe snaps with a deafening crack, but nobody stops. in fact, it just reminds you to change positions—satoru fucks you on your side while you sixty-nine with suguru, who sucks your clit and playfully nibbles at it when you choke on his cock. but once that’s over and done with, they’re getting creative as they hoist you off of the bed and take turns fucking you while standing up.

by the time it’s over, you’re left with two uniquely satoru and suguru shaped dents in your stomach.

.  .  .

“suguru!” mussed with sleep and looking wild because of it, satoru pushes at his best friend, who’s asleep on the floor. how the hell did he even manage to fall asleep when there’s so much debris strewn around? papers, socks, and clean shirts that were once folded surround his body like the chalk outlines at a crime scene. “suguru, dude, c’mon. get up already!”

“what,” suguru deadpans, pushing his hair out of his face. the first thing that he notices is how dry his fingers are when they accidentally graze against his forehead. huh. he could’ve sworn that hand was bloody from a thumb injury. “why are you hassling me first thing in the morning?”

“first, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon, and second, i had the craziest dream. you’ll never fucking believe it.”

there’s a beat of silence before suguru’s brows furrow in realization.

“i did too.”

[clockwayswrites]

Birds can sulk too Part 37

masterpost no editing or concrit plese. I am sick. go ow. I know there are mistakes. birb is my who gives a fuck post it series

Bruce spun his chair around to watch Jason and Roy basically limp off Jason’s motorcycle. “Rough mission?”

“Wasn't supposed to be, but sure as fuck was!” Roy said with an amusing level of cheerfulness for how exhausted he obviously was.

“Well, I can offer to make you both roast beef sandwiches from dinner’s leftovers,” Bruce offered as he stood. “There’s even some potato chips in the house right now if you can believe it.”

“Sacrilege,” Jason muttered through a yawn. “Add some apple slices to the plate and you got a deal, old man.”

Bruce let himself smile. “Go clean up and patch up. I’ll have things ready in the kitchen by the time you’re done.”

“Shower! That sounds like a really, really nice idea,” Roy said and started right that way. “Hot water, my beloved, come to me!”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Jason asked as he followed.

Bruce shook his head with an amused little chuckle as he spun back around to let Oracle know that he would be off comms. Luckily it was a slow night, so there’d be no issue with him stepping away even with a more limited set of Bats out on the streets.

He rolled his wrists as he took the elevator up, working out the ache in them. He’d not been kind to his body over the years, and his body liked to let him know it. Simple range of motion exercise while in a car, or elevator, or line helped soothe more than they should. He was grateful for every bit of relief.

As he entered the kitchen, he flicked on Alfred’s radio down on low. The soft jazz filled the room, and Bruce hummed along as he pulled out the ingredients. British mustard for Jason, but yellow for Roy. A bit more mayo for Roy and pickles on Jason’s. Neither would want lettuce, not for this type of sandwich.

Bruce was munching on a slice of apple when the boys came into the kitchen, hair still dripping and dressed in sweats. He poured Jason a glass of milk and set it by his plate.

“Thanks,” Jason said and took a long drink.

“And thanks for looking after Lian,” Roy said around a mouthful of bread and roast beef.

“Always,” Bruce said. “You know that I love having her here.”

“Still, thanks. She is a toddler and I know she’s a lot,” Roy said. “No problems?”

“We had a very exciting afternoon in the garden looking insects. And yes, I made sure she wore a hat and sunscreen. She had a little fuss after we came in, but I think she was just a bit overly tired,” ,” Bruce said. He gave a moment of debate before adding, “I actually would say Danny had the worst day in the house.”

Roy set his sandwich down and sat up, safe apologetic. “Oh, shit, is he not a kid person? Did Lian pull out his feathers or something?”

Jason was frowning, brow all furrowed.

Bruce shoo his head. “By all signs he loves kids. No, he felt that he had to stay away from Lian, out of respect of Jason’s wishes.”

Roy turned slowly to look at Jason, his disapproval clear in the slant of his mouth. “Jason?”

“I didn’t—that wasn’t—” Jason made a noise of frustration. He ran is hand roughly through his hair. “I just didn’t want him alone with Lian.”

“Jason.” Roy said again.

“He’s a stranger! And a dangerous stranger at that! I don’t see what’s so wrong about wanting some supervision,” Jason said.

“You trust him around your siblings,” Roy pointed out.

“My siblings know kung-fu,” Jason argued back.

“Right. And why is Danny dangerous?”

“Because he turned into a giant otherworldly bird,” Jason practically hissed.

Roy crossed his arms. “So, you’re saying he’s dangerous because he’s a meta.”

It was like the words brought Jason to a halt so quickly that he had to rear back. “What?”

“Because of what he can shape shift into, he’s dangerous. That’s what you’re saying,” Roy said. “Wow. I didn’t think I was dating a bigot.”

“I’m not—come on, you know I’m not!” Jason almost shouted before he remembered himself and lowered his volume. “It’s about the fact that he could take on Ivy’s plants in that form! And he took on a whole group of the Mad Hatter’s goons with just his wings out. He’s obviously both skilled and strong—at least when he’s got bird bits. And he’s a genius! Smart, skilled, and strong is a dangerous combination.”

“I think Roy’s very good point,” Bruce said softly, “is that the way you were saying it, that’s not how it sounded. None of us think you have any issues with meta, of course not, but just like Danny is still an unknown to you, you are to him. He doesn’t know that. I think that what Danny heard is that because he’s a meta, you were afraid of him being near Lian.”

The fight left Jason in a rush. “…oh. I…”

“The wings—these changes he’s going through—it scares Danny,” Bruce explained. “And because he’s scared of himself right now, of course he’s going to think you’re scared of him for the same reasons, not because of the fact that he can fight.”

Jason rubbed at his face. “Shit. I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Well, we’re good at that,” Roy said before he leaned over and kissed Jason’s cheek. “But I really do know you’re not a bigot. I wouldn’t actually think that for a second, but I knew it would get your head out of your ass if I called you one.”

“Thanks, I needed the help I guess,” Jason said with a sigh. He glanced over at Bruce. “Do you think Danny will give me the chance to apologize?”

“I think that Danny is the type of person to be far too forgiving,” Bruce said honestly. “And in this case, I think that if you explain things, he’ll even understand.”