#How to choose a good Cross-Legged Chair?

[prythianpages]

Lost in the Dark | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader ft Azriel | Eris wants you back in Autumn. Meanwhile, you find yourself confiding in Azriel.

a/n: This is pt.5 to my recent Eris series. A little over 2,400 words. Not sure if I like this part as much as it's slower compared to the other parts but I felt like it was necessary.

warnings: angst, reader is pregnant/ hidden pregnancy trope, this will be following along with some events from the series such as the war with Hybern but timeline may not make sense bc I am choosing to ignore it for the sake of this fic lol otherwise, reader would be pregnant for more than a year

The towering windows of the Forest House casted long bands of golden light across the dark wood floors. Beron sat at the head of the table, one leg crossed over the other, a goblet of deep red wine in hand. His advisors lined either side of the long table.

Your father, seated two chairs down from Beron, was mid-sentence when a servant approached silently, bowing and offering a sealed letter. He accepted it with a distracted murmur, breaking the seal and unfolding the parchment.

“A letter from my son,” your father announced with a thoughtful hum.

Beron arched a brow, sipping his wine. “How is he faring in Day?”

Your father smiled faintly as his eyes skimmed over the brief letter. “Well. He sends word that all is steady at the moment. It appears my daughter is thriving as she’s been introduced to some promising suitors. There may be a wedding on the horizon.”

The statement was meant to be harmless. Just polite court chatter, an update on a noble family’s daughter. But Eris, seated across from his father, went still. There was a slight tightening in his jaw, a small pause in the way he rolled the goblet’s stem between his fingers.

Beron gave an amused chuckle. “About time, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” your father chuckled too. “That girl’s not getting any younger. It would be a relief to put a stop to those whispers on why she’s yet to wed.”

Eris kept his face composed and emotionless. But his fingers clenched tighter around his goblet, the subtle movement catching the keen eyes of his brother. A flicker of interest passed across Jayce’s face. Eris met his gaze for a moment too long.

“Good for her,” Eris said, his voice perfectly disinterested, to throw his brother off his scent. 

Though, something primal throbbed in his chest. It was the instinct to claim, to protect, thrumming under his skin like wildfire. He knew about the whispers and hated them. He also hated the way his father and yours were speaking about you, as if your worth diminished with every year unwed.

“I was beginning to think she’d sworn off males entirely.”

The words left his mouth, tasting sour immediately. His teeth clenched, tension coiling in his neck and shoulders as he forced himself to remain still. 

“Enough gossip,” Beron said, already growing bored. He waved a dismissive hand. “Let’s begin.”

The room then shifted into more formal tones as documents were passed, maps unfurled. The talk turned to strategy, to threats looming on the horizon. “The Hybern conflict is worsening,” Beron noted. “We’re being drawn into it, whether we like it or not.”

“We should consider recalling some of our emissaries stationed in other courts,” Eris suggested.

Beron lifted a brow. “You think any court would be foolish enough to harm our people?”

“Not directly,” Eris replied. “But war is chaos. And no court is as secure as our own. Autumn protects its own best within its borders.”

A beat of silence followed. A few heads nodded. Strategic sense. Reasonable caution. No one would question the High Lord’s heir making a practical suggestion. No one would suspect the true reason—who he was thinking of.

You.

You, stationed in the Day Court with your brother. You, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar dangers. You, where he couldn’t reach you.

He’d pushed you away. He had to. It was for your own safety. His brother had grown too curious, too close to discovering the bond Eris had hidden so fiercely. If word had gotten out, if anyone found out…

Eris hadn’t expected you to run so far–to leave not just his side but the very lands you’d grown up in. As if Autumn, and he, had burned you too badly to ever return. 

And yet it was here, within Autumn’s borders, where you’d be safest. Even if you hated him. Even if you never looked at him the same. He could at least watch over you. It was selfish. He knew that.

But the thought of you smiling at another male, walking toward him in a wedding gown, letting hands that weren’t his touch you—by the Mother, it made something raw and violent twist in his chest.

“I’m only suggesting we prepare,” he said at last, his voice laced with calm he did not feel. “The tides of war shift quickly. And I’d rather not lose anyone unnecessarily.”

Jayce leaned back in his chair with a quiet hum. The corner of his mouth twitched, just slightly. Not quite a smile. Not quite nothing.

Eris didn’t rise to it. He didn’t blink, didn’t breathe too sharply. Just kept his gaze fixed on the map as if every ounce of his concern lived there and not in the memory of your eyes, your laugh, your absence.

A breeze whispered through the Day Court palace, stirring the citrus trees nearby, their blossoms perfuming the air.�� You sat across from your brother at a small table set for two, a private breakfast at one of the palace’s many terraces.

There was a plate of warm bread, cheeses, and honeyed fruit placed in front of you. For the first time in days, your stomach allowed you a few bites. You chewed slowly, carefully, trying not to call attention to the fact that your appetite had returned—however briefly.

You were reaching for your tea when you heard the flutter of wings.

A white dove landed at the far edge of the table. Tied to its leg was a letter, stamped with the seal of your family's crest. Your brother moved first, untying the parchment and thanking the bird with a small piece of bread. He scanned the contents quickly, his shoulders stiffening before he exhaled and turned to you.

“We’re going back home,” he said. “High Lord’s orders. A safety measure with Hybern stirring. They're recalling all emissaries.”

The slice of peach you'd just swallowed turned to stone in your gut.

Home.

You had tried not to think about it. About Autumn. About him.  You hadn’t expected to return. Not like this, not with the secret blooming in your womb.

You nodded slowly, as if the movement could make it more digestible. “Of course,” you murmured, past the lump in your throat. “That makes sense.”

The conversation moved on and you were thankful your brother didn’t catch on to your inner turmoil. He didn’t notice the way your fingers trembled slightly as you raised your teacup again. He was too busy talking about logistics and travel times while your mind was screaming at you, echoing the alarm set off by your racing heart.

Because if you went back home, you weren’t sure you’d ever make it out again.

Not this time.

You’d barely escaped once. Slipped through the cracks under the guise of being a loving sister, wanting to reconnect with her older brother. But you knew your father. You knew the way Autumn’s power tightened its grip, how it cloaked its possessiveness in tradition and duty. How quickly freedom became a fleeting illusion.

This time, there’d be no excuse to leave. 

Once you returned, you would be watched, your reputation would be questioned again. 

“Why isn’t she wed yet?”

 “Is there something wrong with her?”

And when your body began to change—when it became undeniable—what then? What would your father do with the daughter who came back bearing a bastard child? 

Then, there’s Eris. The male you tried so hard to stop thinking about, the one who had haunted every dream since you left. What would he do? Would he hate you for it? Claim the child? Deny it?

Would your father try to hide you? Control you? Use the pregnancy to his own advantage, as if your body were just another political pawn?

A chill passed through you, despite the warm Day Court sun brushing your skin.

You would not be safe in Autumn. The idea of returning, of being enclosed by its walls and expectations again, made you feel like you were walking willingly into a cage. Your unborn child deserved better than that. 

Your brother smiled softly at something he’d said, and you matched it with a faint one of your own. But there was only one thing echoing in your mind, louder than logistics and weather and timelines.

I can’t go back. I can’t go back. I can’t go back.

That night, sleep didn’t come.

You decided to go to one of the palace’s upper balconies, watching the moon hang low and full in the sky. You pressed a hand over your abdomen, as if you could shield what grew inside you with nothing but your palm. 

You didn’t know what to do. What other option was there but to run? Again? And where to?

You let out a deep sigh.

“Not a fan of the warm weather?”

The voice didn’t startle you—not anymore. Not even his shadows, who brushed past your feet like curious cats, did.

Azriel had visited a couple times, delivering messages and documents to High Lord Helion on High Lord Rhysand’s behalf. The times he’d see you, he always asked about your health. He’d even continued sending you supplements for your nourishment, worried over your  “prolonged food poisoning.” He never questioned it, even though his eyes showed he wanted to.

Though you wanted to be alone, you didn’t seem to mind his presence so much.

Azriel walked to the railing beside you, his wings half-folded. You scooted a little to give him some space and he leaned against it the same way you did.

“I used to complain so much about the Autumn chill at night,” you said quietly, a sad smile ghosting across your lips. “But funny, how I’ve grown to miss it.”

And how I dread to face it, you thought but didn’t say.

Azriel looked at you, something soft and far too knowing in his hazel eyes. “Sometimes, we don’t appreciate what we have until it’s gone.”

You nodded, but the movement felt heavy.

“How’s the food poisoning?” He then asked gently.

“It’s–” You began but then stopped yourself.  You glanced around, checking for eavesdroppers, unaware that Azriel’s shadows already cloaked you both in silence. 

You didn’t owe him this. Not your truth, not your pain, not the secret that weighed more heavily with every passing day. Azriel was kind, yes. He’d been attentive, maybe even gentle in a way you hadn’t expected from someone with his reputation. But you weren’t friends. Not really. Not in the way that counted.

And yet…

You hadn’t felt so at ease around someone in weeks.

You didn’t know what telling him would change. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. But what did it matter, in the end?

This was likely the last time you’d ever see him. You’d be gone soon—vanished, disappeared into whatever place would keep you and your child safe from Autumn’s grasp. If he let your secret slip, it wouldn’t matter. You’d hopefully be out of their grasp before anyone could act on it.

And still… a part of you hoped he wouldn’t.

A part of you also wanted someone to know.

“Actually, it’s not food poisoning.”

There was a long pause. And then you turned to him.

“I’m pregnant.”

You exhaled as if you’d been holding that breath for weeks. Because you had. The weight of this truth had been pressed against your ribs and wrapped around your lungs, and now it finally slid free.

Azriel didn’t speak. You noticed his shadows stilled completely. Even the air seemed to still. He didn’t react with judgement or shock. He just listened. You wondered if he could sense there was more—that this wasn’t the whole truth. You wondered what he would do when he heard the rest of it. Would he flinch then? Would he look at you differently?

“…It’s Eris’s,” you whispered.

There. It was done. Said aloud.

When you finally gathered the courage to look up again, you saw that Azriel’s expression hadn’t shifted in the slightest. It remained calm. But his shadows were not. They stirred with sudden energy, swirling and curling at his shoulders, as if… delighted...?

You blinked, confused. “You’re… not surprised?”

He gave the faintest shrug. “I can smell it.”

Your eyes widened in horror. Heat flooded your face, and you curled your arm protectively over your chest like that would somehow help. He could smell it? By the Cauldron! Have you been reeking for weeks now??

Azriel chuckled and you shrunk further into yourself. “Don’t worry. I doubt anyone else can at the moment. My shadows pick up on things before most people could. They’re nosy like that.”

His shadows fluttered playfully in response to the comment, and somehow, that made your shoulders loosen just a bit. “How long have you known?”

Azriel glanced down, slightly sheepish. “Since I helped you add your own flair to one of Helion’s antique vases.”

You managed a small, breathy laugh. One hand pressed to your chest like you could still your heartbeat with pressure alone. “Wow,” you murmured. “It feels good to tell someone...even if you already knew.”

Then your expression faltered. 

Azriel immediately noticed. His eyes flickered briefly to your stomach, then back to your face—so quickly you might’ve imagined it. “What’s wrong?”

“I just… I always imagined saying those words under different circumstances…”

A beat passed.

“Is that why you’re so far from home?” he asked, his tone gentle.

You hesitated. There was no point in lying now. He already knew the biggest part of your truth and something told you, he most likely already knew the answer to his own question. “Yes,” you replied, anyway.

The air between you shifted, and something about its weight made you want to retreat again. So you changed the subject before he could probe further.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmured, waiting for his nod before continuing. It was a question that had been biting at you since that morning he helped you. “Why have you been so… kind to me?”

Azriel didn’t answer immediately. His gaze grew distant, almost as if he were looking through you, lost in a memory. Then, after a small pause, he spoke.

“You remind me of someone I know.”

There was no attempt to elaborate, no more words to follow. His tone had carried a finality to it, an unspoken boundary he wasn’t willing to cross yet. 

You both settled into the quiet, allowing the space between you to deepen. It wasn’t awkward, nor was it uncomfortable. It felt... shared. A silent acknowledgment of the fragile bits you both carried inside you. 

You didn’t feel the need to break the silence. Neither did he. For a long moment, you simply existed there, in the quiet, without the pressure of words. No explanations. No more questions. 

Just the weight of the silence, enough to speak what neither of you dared to voice.

a/n: So the next part was originally going to have Az & Eris but after sleeping on it, I wanted to give more context and also write reader's confession in her POV. I do have Az's POV that I'll most likely include in the next part. Unless my mind thinks of more ideas/scenes , the next part will finally have the scene between Az & Eris during the High Lord meeting in ACOWAR.

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[the-librarby]

FANCY SEEING YOU HERE III

- DANTE SPARDA (DMC)

I heart girlhood and first kisses.

Part one Part two Part four

It had been a month since that eventful first day, and Dante had gotten very comfortable in your presence. He dropped by with seemingly no rhyme or reason, every time you tried to assign him a case he would just wave it off. Apparently busy with other work.

Not only did he physically disturb your work hours, but he somehow got ahold of your work number.

When the landline rings, you pick it up without thinking, “Devil May Cry,”

“That’s it?” The voice crackles due to the poor speaker, “No, this is Y/N speaking, how can I help you?” A familiar voice mocks.

You lean back in your chair with a grin, crossing your leg over the other— you better get comfortable this is going to be a long call — and squish the receiver between your cheek and shoulder.

You hum, “Maybe you should be a receptionist, you’ve got the voice for it,”

“Oh yeah? What else am I good at?” The cocky grin is apparent in his tone.

You roll your eyes, “Being a pain in my ass,” your eyes flick to the clock display on your computer, “Aren’t you on a mission right now?”

Dante hums in confirmation, “I found some downtime, just to check in on you,”

Check ins, that’s what Dante liked to call this.

“I’m just as fine as I was yesterday, Dante,” you reply, “If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like you care about me, sweetheart,”

The rumble of his laughter over the speaker makes you inhale just a bit deeper, “Yeah, yeah caught red handed.”

You found it hard to navigate this dynamic with Dante. You expected the flirtatious conversations to die down but as you got more acquainted, if anything, it’s just amped it up. You’re certain it’s just the demon hunter’s nature, and not anything personal, which is fine by you. The last thing you need is to complicate this working relationship even further.

“You there, darling?” He questions, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You lean forward in your seat, moving the computer mouse to wake the screen back up, “Yeah, here,” you respond, “How’s the mission going?”

“So boring,” he complains, “Don’t make me talk about it, any plans tonight? Tell me it’s something fun,”

You laugh, “Going out actually,” you choose to ignore Dante’s dramatic gasp, “Calendar finally lined up, so I’m getting some drinks with some friends,”

Dante lets out the most wounded sound you’ve ever heard, “What! You never go out—”

“Not true!” You interject.

“—The one time you’re doing something fun and I’m not even there to see it!”

You frown, “Who said you would be invited anyway?”

Dante scoffs, “Don’t be ridiculous, doll, of course I would be there,”

You hum in reluctance, “No, I don’t think so. Pretty sure I sent all the invites out already, guess yours got lost?”

“I find it funny that you think you could stop me from seeing you.” He assures.

You gaze up at the ceiling, shaking your head in disbelief. You turn in your office chair, now facing the window behind you, the cord follows and wraps around the chair.

“Guess you’ll just have to sit this one out then,” you sigh.

“I’ll find a way,” he hums, “Keep your phone on you.”

Even miles away you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched by him, a constant shadow over your shoulder. The sun is starting to set across the buildings outside, you search every rooftop and can’t find a single sign of a soul.

“Sure,” you spin back around to face your computer, “Better let you get back to your mission, I know you work so hard,” you coo.

Dante sighs, “Think of me when you go out tonight, alright doll? Because I’ll be thinking of you,”

“Goodbye Dante.” you fluster.

You hang the phone up with a click. In the silence of your office you groan, dragging your hands down your face is exasperation.

It was later in the evening when you stepped into the bar you were meeting your friends at. In the corner you can see them waving you over, a grin breaks out on your face. Cheers and greetings are shared, you can feel your shoulders relax. This was needed.

“I need a drink.”

Resounding agreements are met with your statement.

Time starts flying by, and you’re starting to forget what drink number you’re on but it’s fine, you got it handled. When you approach the bar, a guy next to you starts chatting. It’s polite and civil, he’s definitely cute, but when he starts pulling his phone out your mouth opens on autopilot.

“Oh, thank you, but no thanks,” you raise your hand placating.

The guy looks a little wounded— you grit your teeth in embarrassment— but doesn’t comment. Your friend punches your arm as he walks off, her eyes are widened.

“Why did you ditch him? He was so cute!”

You shrug, making your way back to your table, “I don’t know, wasn’t feeling it,”

Another girl chimes in as you sit down, “Wasn’t feeling what?”

“This cute ass guy just asked for her number and she shot him down!”

“Politely!” You interject.

The table is looking in your direction, one girl hums conspiratorially, “Someone we don’t know about?”

You choke on your drink, “No!” It’s not convincing, “No, there’s not,”

“Bullshit, your face is red! Who is it? Someone from work?”

The girl beside you tilts her head, “Your shady receptionist job? That would be interesting.”

Okay, so maybe your friends don’t know the full details of your job. It’s not because you don’t trust them, it’s just because this job is meant to be temporary, and honestly you don’t want them to worry about the people you work with.

Like Dante. Your heart pangs for a second at the thought of his name. That makes you pause.

“Oh my god, it’s definitely someone from her shady receptionist job,”

You automatically become defensive, “There’s nothing going on at work,” it doesn’t feel like you mean it, “I mean, nothing can happen anyway, it’s work,”

You shove down the sadness you feel saying that out loud, it’s not something you can deal with right now. When you look around the table you can see the sympathetic looks from everyone.

You groan and chug the rest of your drink, “Another round?”

You’ve definitely lost track of the amount of drinks you’ve had now. You’re laughing at every little amusing thing that comes across your path, and your friends laugh at how slurred your speech is. You’re just about to enter a different bar when your pocket starts to buzz.

“Wait,” you take a wobbly step back and dig into your pocket, “I gotta take this,” you murmur distractedly.

When your friends start to protest you wave your hand at them, “No s’fine, go in, I’ll be like, five minutes?”

You turn your back to them as they walk in, the phone in your hands looks a bit blurry and it takes you a couple tries to hit the accept button but eventually you get it.

“Hello?” You chime cheerily.

A chuckle rumbles through, “Just how drunk are you, doll?”

You frown, “Don’t,” you reply accusingly, “Don’t call me that, only Dante calls me that,”

“Really? He your boyfriend or something?” The voices teases.

You pout, “No, he’s—” you hum in thought, “Uh, a friend,”

Really, how else could you explain Dante to a stranger?

“You don’t sound convinced,”

His voice is deep, you muse, “What are you? A therapist?” A frown creases your eyebrows, “I definitely can’t afford that,”

The voice over the line laughs, it makes you feel warm, “Where are you?”

You scoff, “M’not giving my address to a stranger!”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, sweetheart?”

“Sweethea—” you gasp loudly suddenly, “Dante?”

“Bingo,” Dante laughs, it’s so familiar how could you not recognise it?

“Dante!” You repeat, in disbelief, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You are so gone,” he comments amusedly.

“Yeah,” you sigh in agreement. Slowly, on unsure legs you walk over to the edge of the pavement to sit on the curb outside of the bar, “I miss you, where are you?”

Dante is going to tease the fuck out of you tomorrow for this. But right now you are not sound of mind to care, or even realise what you are saying. Sitting on the concrete beside a parked car, you watch as other drunken groups stumble and laugh up and down the street.

“On a mission remember?” He muses.

“Oh yeah,” you respond, fingers loosely holding your phone, “How is the mission?”

“That really what you want to talk about right now?”

Your response comes out quick, “If it keeps you on the line,”

The a brief choked noise and pause, you think you hear a quiet curse— fucking hell— in the background, but it’s drowned out by the traffic.

“Where are you?” Dante repeats.

“Huh?” You swing your head around, squinting your eyes at the bar sign out front, “Some bar, Night lounge or somethin’”

“I’ll meet you there,”

You laugh, “What? You’re like—” you wave your hand in gesture, “Somewhere far away,”

“Don’t move, got it?” He ignores your comment, “See you soon, doll.”

You barely say goodbye before the line ends. You stare at your phone in confusion for a moment, what did he mean? Your sluggish mind can’t fit the pieces together, so you shrug it off. Standing up, you dust off your outfit and make your way inside the bar. The girls are urging you to catch up, having missed out on a few rounds.

You completely forget about the phone call.

Hours later, you blearily look at your phone. The clock displays 2:00am. You push your way off the dance floor, leaving your friends behind. Everything is becoming stuffy and you need space, it’s a clumsy exit but you manage to shove your way out. Skirting the edge of the dance floor, you make one last shove this time accidentally hitting someone square in the chest.

“Sorry,” you slur, hands up in defence.

A bigger hand circle your wrist, the other hooking under your chin to tilt your head up, “Just the person I was looking for,”

Slowly you blink to take the man in, black fitted top, broad shoulders, and long silver hair. A grin breaks out on your face, “Dante!” You cheer drunkenly, wriggling your hands out of his grasp and wrap them around his neck. You feel his arms curl around your waist.

Your cheek is smooshed against the juncture of his shoulder and neck, “You made it,” your murmur, “How did you find me?”

Dante looks down at you quizzically, about to respond when you’re suddenly tugged back by your shirt.

“Y/N!” Your friend shouts, “You can’t just run off like that!”

She starts to apologise to Dante on your behalf, “I’m so sorry, she’s drank a lot tonight—”

You hiccup on your laugh, “Don’t apologise,” you poke hard at Dante’s chest, “This is Dante,”

Your friend frowns, “Dante…?”

“From work,” he supplies.

Your friend frowns, looking between the two of you. Dante’s hand is resting comfortably on the small of your back, your hand turning from an accusing point to a splayed hand on his chest.

She raises her eyebrow, “Dante,” she repeats, “From work,”

“That’s me, Dante from work,” he nods.

Another girl from your group comes up, “What’s going on?” She shouts.

She jabs a thumb in your direction, a grin now on her face, “This is Dante from Y/N’s work,”

She gasps, “The Dante?”

Dante’s now starting to feel confused, the two girls in front of him are scrutinising him in his spot. He smiles politely, and lets them look. You on the other hand, are completely taken by a wave of sleepiness. Unaware of the looks exchanged, you slump into Dante’s side.

“Need home,” you murmur.

Dante leans down, hovering closer to your face to hear better, “What?”

You groan at the movement, every shift welcomes a new wave of dizziness, “Need to go home,” you force out.

“Well, Dante from work,” your friend interjects, “Think you can handle this one?”

If you were sober, you’d be more aware of the current stare down that was happening. It’s more than a simple question, Dante was facing a test of loyalty right now, and honestly, it was kinda terrifying.

He answers without doubt, “Yes, I can handle her,”

You crack your eyes open when you feel warmth wrap around you, “Bye Y/N,” kisses are pressed to your cheeks, “Get home safe, and text me!”

You mumble your goodbyes, lots of I love you’s are exchanged before Dante wraps his arm around your waist and leads you outside. Once you step out into fresh air, you sigh. It feels so good to be outside.

“Alright, let’s get you home,”

You slump your head against his shoulder, letting Dante lead the way because your legs are not working right now.

“I wanna take my shoes off,”

“You can’t take your shoes off,”

You cry worriedly, “Are they glued to my feet?”

Dante looks down at your frantic face, shaking his head, “No, we’re walking home, you can’t take your shoes off right now,” he clarifies.

You sigh in genuine relief, the split second reality of not being able to take your shoes off outweighs the minor pain they’re giving you for now.

“Would you cut my feet off if they were actually stuck?” You wonder aloud.

Dante frowns, “No, I would not cut your feet off,”

You tilt your head, “How would you get them off then?”

Dante is unsure of the direction of this conversation, he knows you’re just rambling but the accusing look in your eye makes him think you’re not going to let this go.

He sighs, “Cut them?”

You gasp, “But these are my favourite!” You kick your feet up as to show them off, but you start to topple backwards from the sudden weight shift.

Dante easily swings forward until you’re straightened up again, “I don’t know,” he hums, “Guess I would have to force them off, they’d have to unstick at some point.”

You smile, satisfied at his answer. The streets are starting to get a little quieter as you walk away from the bars, it’s nicer like this, you can hear the cars driving past and a quiet ringing in your ears from the loud music earlier.

Dante’s mind floats back to what your friends said, “Do your friends know me?”

You hum questioningly, thinking back over the blurry events of tonight. After the phone call you went back in the bar, your friends were sitting at the table urging you to catch up on drinks. No wait, something before that.

“Who were you talking to out there?”

“Dante,” you answer simply.

“Dante?” They emphasise, “Who is Dante?”

You shrug, “From work? He’s so annoying,” you roll your eyes, “Keeps calling me all sorts of names, doll, sweetheart, my love,”

While you’re rambling your friends eyes widen, the whole table shocked at the revelation you’ve just spilled.

“Y/N, my darling,” you scrunch your nose, “You know he likes you, right?”

“What?” You scoff, “That’s impossible,”

“Why?”

That made you pause. Why was it impossible again? Something about boundaries and lines interfering.

“Oh my god!” Hands slam on the table, “It’s him! The guy that nothing can happen with!”

Gasps resound around the table, but your head is spinning. Before they can ask you anymore questions you head for the bar.

“You’re the guy,” you say.

“The guy?”

You huff, waving your hand, “The guy,” you emphasise, “From work, where nothing can happen, because you’re from work,” you tag on the end, in case it wasn’t obvious.

Now Dante can read between the lines. In this case, the line is very obvious in your oversharing confidence. A line that should not be discussed right now. He knows. Your apartment building is coming into view, Dante recognises the familiar entrance steps and railing.

“Something you want to say to me, darling?” It’s cruel to ask in your state, but he can’t help it.

You stop abruptly in your path, Dante looks down at you as you turn to him, a determined look pinning your facial expression.

“Yes,” you accuse, stepping closer, “How dare you,”

Dante smirks, “How dare I what?”

You point a finger waving it between him and yourself, “Act like this,” you gesture, “You’re not my partner,”

The drunken words are not eloquently said, but he understands. He steps closer, you tilt your head up to continue facing him.

“Do you want me to stop?” He murmurs, suddenly serious.

You frown, “This is so not fair,” you reach your hands up to cup his face, “You can’t look at me like that,”

Dante would put money down to see what you see in him right now, “What do I look like?” He whispers.

Your thumb grazes gently under his eye, “Not how a friend should look at me,”

He glances down at your lips, “Will you forgive me in the morning?”

His abrupt question confuses you, “For what?” You smile in amusement.

Without warning he leans down, causing your hands to slide down to the back of his neck. Your eyes widen in anticipation, he pauses close to your face, giving you a chance to back off.

“I swear if this is a sick joke, I’ll kill you Dante.” you promise.

Hands grasp your hips, tugging you flush against chest. Seconds later, Dante’s lips are on yours. It’s gentle, is what your foggy mind can comment on. Your hands reach up into his hair, gently curling into the strands, him groans in response with deepened the kiss. One of your hands travels down his chest, feeling for the hem.

Before you can get your fingers underneath, you feel the world spin before your back hits something hard. The kiss breaks, and when you open your eyes and look around you can see you’re leaning against the brick all of your apartment building.

Dante’s heavy breathing matches your own, he shakes his head with a smile, “It’s time for you to go to bed,”

You ignore him, tugging him closer by the loops of his belt. He moves forward without a fight, you lean up to kiss him once more. Dante feels weak in this moment, he can’t say no, not when your fingers are curled around his pants like that. When your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt, there’s only a warning hum. A cautionary, don’t. With a smile against his lips, you breach under, letting your finger tips glide over his hipbone. You don’t get much further until a hand grasps your wrist.

“You’re breaching out of bounds territory,” Dante warns.

You grin, wriggling your fingers that are still trapped under his shirt, “Let me in,”

Dante smiles in amusement at your boldness, “No,” he counters.

Your mouth drops in shock, as if not expecting that response, “You’re so mean,”

His hand drags yours out, “You already knew that,” he winks.

You pout, glancing up at him through your eyelashes. Your slightly smudged mascara affects Dante in a way he didn’t know could, his thoughts are starting to drift too far. Thoughts of you in this outfit, on your knees on your bedroom floor, choking around—

He blinks the thoughts away. He needs to stop this.

Gently he tugs you off the brick wall, guiding you up the stairs to your apartment entrance. Getting the hint, you fish out your keys.

You look at him one last time, “This is real right? I’m not imagining it,”

Dante chuckles, “I would be a fucking fool to pass you up,” he leans forward for one more chaste kiss, his hand cups your face, “Text your friends that you’re home, before they think I killed you,”

You laugh, “I will,”

He leans again, finding it hard to part from your lips but he manages to pull away one last time, “Call me in the morning?”

You hum, leaning against his hand as you peek your eyes open, “Afternoon okay? I’ll definitely feel like shit tomorrow morning,”

Dante smiles, “Deal.”

[chrattho1]

employee!matt x boss!reader

do you have a problem?

summary: matt has been working under you for 2 years now,you have a very professional relationship with all your employees but sometimes when you catch matt staring at you and checking you out—you can’t help but be intrigued by what goes on in his head.

warnings: use of pet names, oral (m.receiving),sub!matt

more of this au here

“so these have to go in today?” matt’s eyes squint as he questions you in your office.

you click your teeth before looking up at him from the computer screen.

“yes matt, do you have a problem staying late and finishing them up?” your eyebrows in a knot.

“i guess not” matt’s voice lower now as he looks down at the files in his hands, his foot tapping the floor next to your desk.

“start working on them” you said, eyes not leaving the screen.

you can hear matt sigh softly as he walks out of your office with the pile of files he has to work on, the pile of files that’ll take at least 2 hours to get done.

its already 5 pm, everyone in the office has left the premise to go to their respective homes, families, maybe get a drink with their friends, but you and matt are stuck in the office. matt still working on those files and you on digitising them one by one as he comes by and drops each one of them off in your office. even though you could have more people wait back— you would rather only one person stay back and do the work, so you chose matt. is there a specific reason behind you choosing him? maybe.

you walk out of your office, trailing down your way to matt’s cubicle where you hear him humming a song.

you lean on the cubicle wall, watching him bob his head to the song as he fills out some papers.

“i wanna share an apartment, a room,-mh mhm mh-” matt spins in his chair as he hums the lyrics to a song, but the spinning comes to a halt when he sees you leaning on his wall, smiling at him.

“hey” you said, your arms crossed, your shoulders still leaning on to the wall.

“hi” matt returns the smile, but his expression soon changes watching you still stand there, why were you here? don’t you have work to do as well? his thoughts race up, just as any employee’s thoughts would if their boss stood there staring at them doing their work.

“what? can i not supervise you?” you spoke, playfulness lacing your words. you slowly make your way to his small desk, pushing up and sitting on it. you’re now right in front of his chair, your bare legs brushing against his clothed knees.

matt’s breath hitches but he can do nothing but simply shake his head at your question, his lips curl up when senses your playful tone.

“i like your earing” you said pointing at his ear with a smile on your face, a smile you don’t often give to people in the office.

matt’s hands involuntarily reach up to his earing, touching it, almost not convinced that he just got complimented by you.

“uh—thanks-thank you” matt’s eyes never leave you. something building up in his chest, and he knows exactly what it is feeling his pants tightening.

“lets take a break yeah?” you said bringing your face closer to his, your hand reaching to grab the hand rest of his chair, your faces inches apart. matt’s chest heaving, his breathing ragged and you’ve barely spoken two sentences to him.

to your statement of taking a break matt nods, his eyes fluttering not knowing what is happening right now.

“so matt, tell me about yourself, got a girlfriend? a wife? kids?” your manicured nails tap the hand rest of his chair. matt shakes his head to your question, to which you frown.

“really?” you ask in disbelief, feeling a rush of excitement as soon as you realise that this is perfect.

“i don’t” matt shrugs, he has a smile on his face making it very clear that he is embarrassed.

“how is that possible? you’re a good looking guy, well spoken, make good money at this company” you state facts about him that you know, sounding almost like you admire those things about him, and that makes matt suck in a breath.

you praising him, talking to him in this demeanour, he feels like he is in a wet dream that he’s definitely had before so naturally his pants get tighter around his groin.

matt shrugs, his eyes not batting away, he is not even blinking as much.

“i thought girls would throw themselves at you” you bite the inside of your cheek, matt’s non verbal, flustered state making you want to tease him even more.

matt shakes his head again, letting you know that girls in fact don’t throw themselves at him.

“that’s a shame, i personally think you’re a greaatt guy” you pout, your hands reaching down to rest on one of his knees.

“fuck” matt whispered under his breath, but the office being so quite made his voice almost echo in your ears, you smirk at his reaction. a reaction he gave from something so small.

“like when i touch you?” you spoke tilting your head down and looking at him, matt nods frantically.

“gotta use your words matt” one side of mouth curling up.

“ye-yes i do” matt finally lets words out of his mouth— shaky, hasty words.

“want me to touch you more?” your hand now stroking his thigh, at an extremely slow pace. you can feel his skin radiating heat from underneath the pants he’s worn.

“yes- please—” matt couldn’t have sounded more desperate if he tried to, his hips rising and sliding down the chair.

you lean over him more with your hands moving up to his tie, loosening it. your eyes never leave his as you do so.

matt’s eyes scan all over your you, your tits right in his face. his hands go up from his sides to softly lay at your waist.

“is this okay?” shaky words from him fall onto your features with his breath, minty you think.

“mhm” you nod, his tie now almost fully loose.

“please-” matt’s voice low, but your receptors catch it perfectly.

you grab the end of his loosened tie, pulling him up with you. dragging him into your office, matt fully giving into your actions, loving every single second of what’s happening, even the walk from his cubicle to your office.

once you’re both in the office, you push him against the door, his body weight closing it on its own. the way you’re pressed onto him-you can feel the rhythm of his heartbeat aligning with yours, his being just a tad bit higher than yours. you can also feel his throbbing dick press against your inner thigh.

your fingertips trail along his jaw, feeling the tiny hair from his stubble.

“i see the way you look at me matt” you whisper. he looks at you with wide eyes, exhaling deeply. your fingers now making their way up to his mouth, index finger toying with his bottom lip.

“what do you have to say about that huh?” your finger slowly making its way in,and he opens his mouth for you to do so.

“always so quite, looking so innocent” your voice low and seductive, matt’s eyes flicker at the sound. his mouth still hung open with just the tip of your finger in it.

you lay small pecks on his cheeks slowly,before getting to his lips dropping your hand to his chest, pressing him down. matt complies immediately kissing you with hurry he’s never been in before. the room is filled with sounds of sharp breaths that were taken through matt’s nose while his mouth was occupied. as both your lips and tongues were tied your hands got busy untucking his shirt from under his pants. his hands rested on your hips softly.

you pull away to slide his suit jacket off of him-one shoulder at a time,and then his tie and then the buttons on his shirt. once his shirt slides off of his skin, you’re taken a back, a small gasp leaves your mouth.

“you have a tattoo sleeve?” you asked even though the proof lied in front of your eyes. matts eyes drop to his arm, and then on to you hoping that’ll give you the answer to your question.

“fuck-come here—” you said pulling him and kissing him sloppily again, flushed by the feeling of wanting him even more, the knowledge that him acting so quite and innocent is kind of for show did something to you.

your fingertips trail down his abdomen,deciding to rest right on his v-line.

matt pulled away this time,his lips swollen and mouth open catching a breath.

“can i take this off you?” he asked hesitantly,fingers toying with the collar on your shirt. a smirk grows on your face and you nod. matt wastes no time, his fingers got to work, unbuttoning your shirt as fast as he can.

you smile down at him as he does so, his desperate state making your panties wetter by the second.

“oh my—fuck” a small whimper falls from his mouth, the sight of your lacy bra that barely covered your tits making his knees weak, better than he’d imagine or dreamt of.

you throw your shirt off somewhere, before leaning your head down to his neck. lips leaving traces down to his collarbone, sucking on it. with a moan matt’s head falls back making a “thump” sound on the wooden door behind him. you immediately look up at him to check if he’s okay.

his eyes on you when he notices the look of concern on your face. “im okay” he whispers, his voice cracking. you smile holding in a giggle before getting back to what you were doing before.

after about a good 5 minutes, you’ve kissed him all over his neck and chest, when you get to his lower tummy matt noticeably squirms under you. a smirk forms onto your lips as you continue to trail kisses down his stomach, getting right above the band of his pants. you look up at him once, batting your eyelashes.

“please—” he spoke between his teeth,his eyes half lidded but you can see the glint on them.

you unbutton his pants with one hand, the other rested on his chest stretched out.

his pants fall to his ankles, you’re met with the sight of his calvin clien boxers that have a small dark patch of precum on them.

your long manicured nails graze the skin over his hipbone while you slowly pull down on his boxers. matt’s dick springs out of them as soon as the boxers come off, his dick more desperate than he is. tip red and swollen, precum oozing. the sight making you suck in a gasp he is big-you thought.

you lean down even more, your face at his dick-level. matt squirms at the feeling of your breaths falling on to his dick.

“hmp-please—” every time he begs, you want him to beg more but this time you have a feeling if you keep teasing-he might cry.

“such a good boy for me yeah?” you say looking up at him, to which he nods with his eyes closed.

“yes-yes—i am” you smile at his words that motivate you to do more for him. your tongue pops out of your mouth, kitty licking his tip a few times.

“OH—” matt’s eyes pressed shut at the small action. his hips involuntarily thrusting in the air past your tongue.

you bring your tongue from his tip down to the base of his dick and swirl it around.

“oh fu—d-don’t tease—i’ll cum—” whining and groaning, matt’s voice isn’t even his at this point, so cracky, full of pants and heavy breathing. his brain working in favour of the pleasure and not him.

you finally put your mouth around halfway through his dick, taking the rest in your palms. matt’s mouth focused more on whimpering than breathing.

“hmpph—just like tha-so good mama” moaning and whimpering matt’s hands fall into your hair when you start bobbing around his dick, your tongue covered in his saline precum.

“so-so beautiful—ahhh fuck—” matt tries his hardest to open his eyes to get a glimpse of you sucking his dick in a bra with your short skirt riding all the way up your thighs but his eyes betray him and shut once again.

“i cant—cant—” matt almost sounds like he is apologising when you feel his dick twitch in your mouth, you knew he was going to cum right then, so you pulled off of him.

the whine that leaves matt’s mouth next made your breath hitch, he is so desperate.

“not yet baby” you got up from the floor and grabbed his hand, leading him to your desk.

english is not my first language !

[rowarn]

hear me out....

afab!reader, no prns, simon is smitten <3, cunnilingus, wet&messy, creampie !!!

; in which simon cucks some poor guy for flirting with u <3

going out with simon to a bar one night. simon thought u looked so precious dressed up just for him. he's got that "wear what you want, i can fight" mentality as he should.

some random guy slides up to your table with a cheesy smile and a bravery that surprised even simon. he was sitting right there and the guy didn't bat an eye. that was unusual — simon was a big guy with an intimidating stare to go along with it.

and you - a little too polite and sweet to tell the guy flat out to fuck off, gives simon an apologetic little look.

and fuck, simon thinks, you're so precious. you really melt his heart.

the guy makes some corny joke about a threesome, condescension dripping from his voice as he really thinks you would choose him over simon. the bloke really believed you would go home with him.

simon finally interjects from where he has been nursing his whiskey and just watching — making very sure the guy didn't cross any lines beyond making a fool of himself in front of you.

"sure why not?" he says, concealing a grin when the guy turns to gawk at him, asking if he was serious.

and that's how you wind up in a hotel — simon would never allow some random asshole into your shared home.

the second you all stepped in, simon pulled up a chair and directed the guy to sit while simon "got you ready". the guy was thrilled, it tickled simon something fierce.

and you, still so sweet for him, cling onto and pepper kisses on simon's face the second he's within your reach. he adores it. adores you.

simon gives the poor idiot a show, pinning your knees to your chest and letting him marvel at how fucking pretty you are; pussy shiny with a sheen of your arousal. he bets the guy thinks it's all for him but no. you only get so wet and needy for simon.

simon eats you out like a champ — urged even more than usual by new eyes watching. simon has a point to prove.

you're whining and moaning, twitching in the cute way you do when simon rolls his tongue over the hardened bud of your clit and fuck, he's drooling. literally. it mixes with your juices and makes you even wetter and messier and he loves it.

he makes you cum on his tongue alone. hard. you gasp and sob, legs sweetly kicking out as he feels you throb on his tongue. usually he adds some fingers into the mix to prep you but not today. he wants you to feel the full stretch of him this time.

he thinks he hears the guy make some comment about how lovely you are and how he can't wait to have a turn with you.

'in your dreams maybe' simon thinks bitterly. he can't believe the guy thinks he can compare to him. simon knows for a fact the dude wouldn't even be able to make you cum — simons taken the time to learn your body, learn what you like and what you need before you even say it. simon has devoted himself to you and no one could ever compete with that.

simon turns you over and manhandles you into position on your knees, gently pressing down on your back so you lean down onto your chest. you're still trembling and twitching occasionally from the orgasm he can still taste on his tongue. he thinks it's adorable.

the guy pipes up, complaining and asking when he's gonna get a turn because his cocks so hard it hurts.

simon decided it's as good a time as any to break the news to him — you're not gettin' a turn mate. just enjoy the show, yeah?

the guy starts whining and complaining as simon slowly and carefully sinks into you. you're so wet and tight around him that he feels the breath punch out of his lungs.

his hand is careful as it wraps around the back of your neck, using the grip as leverage as he begins to rock into you. you're still getting used to being full of him — he hadn't prepped you properly so he knows it stings a bit.

you still sweetly coo and whimper as he moves slowly and carefully. before long you're grinding back against him, a silent request for more. and he's more than happy to provide.

soon enough he's fucking you like you deserve. you're crying out into the bed and creaming real nice around the base of him. you have the blankets wrapped tight in your firsts and you're so loud about how good he's making you feel.

simon chances a glance at the idiot in the room and see how intensely he's staring at you, mouth slightly agape and eyes lidded.

simon nearly puffs up in pride — you're his and he's fucking you so well for his audience.

he picks up the pace, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your tender clit is intoxicating. your body trembles and twitches at the onslaught of stimulation. you cry out his name, praise him for making you feel so good.

simons grip changes to the front of your neck, carefully urging you up onto your knees with your back to his chest. he feels you clench around him when you're reminded of how fucking big he is compared to you — broad shoulders and huge hands that dwarf your own. he's built and firm against you, sturdy and safe.

in this new position, he can freely grope your bouncing tits as he resumes fucking you. he make sure to angle his hips to hit that sweet little spot inside you that makes your back bow against him and your eyes roll back in your head.

"look at me, love," he orders when you close your eyes.

when you do as he tells you, your eyes are teary and dazed — a testament to how well he's fucking you. how well he always fucks you.

you desperately reach for one of his hands, dragging it down your body to the apex of your thighs. simon wastes no time in pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit. your thighs twitch the second he starts circling the little bud, his fingers getting wet with your juices.

he can't resist craning his neck down to press his lips against yours. simon isn't big on kissing — he finds it to be almost too intimate. it's different from sex. it makes him feel a little too vulnerable for comfort. but in that moment he craves it. he needs to kiss you.

you give no warning when you cum. your nails bite into his arm but he barely feels it over the right vice grip your cunt has around his cock. you tremble and whine into his mouth, unwilling to break the kiss he had bestowed upon you.

you drench his cock, creaming and soaking him in your cum. it drops down his balls and your thighs and drives him to his own end.

"where do you want it?" he asks, although he knows the answer.

he just want s your guest to hear you say it. he wants him to hear how you beg to be filled with cum, how you whine to be stuffed nice and full.

"i-inside!" you gasp so sweetly for him that it melts his cold heart, "please, simon. want it inside!"

simon's head drops to your shoulder, burying his face in your neck as he gives you a few more mind-numbing thrusts into your still twitching pussy before he groans through gritted teeth and spills into you just like you wanted.

he pulls out quicker than he usually does just to watch his load drip out and soil your thighs that were covered in your own cum.

simon catches you when you slump, carefully lowering you onto the bed while you catch your breath.

the guy is still sitting there. they meet gazes and simon jerks his head to the side, indicating towards the door.

the guy huffs and stalks away, blue balled and unsatisfied but clearly he enjoyed the show if the bulge in his jeans was any indication.

simon can only hope he got his message across. <3

[romanofftherealest]

𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔅𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔰 𝔏𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔬𝔩𝔡

Chapter 1: When Cold Meets The Heat | 1.3k

Summary: The boss meets the boss.

Pairing: Mob boss Natasha Romanoff x Mob boss Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: +18 sexual tension

Author's Note: Not about this fic but I already answered those asks that was stuck for weeks in my inbox. If yours didn't get answered maybe it's bc I already answered it on another ask, it's private or I am not comfortable. Thank you for those who expressed their support, gratitude, and care, I appreciate it a lot.

⧗

"I got some company for my appointment?" you asked, not mad or angry. Just the usual cold tone of yours. But the irritation was evident with how you quickly paced through that even your guards cannot even keep up.

Emergency? You'll be understanding about that but not being told that your appointment was canceled for some emergency? Definitely not.

"Y-Yes, ma'am." The girl stutters, rushing to follow up on your heavy strides. "There is an emergency appointment that Doctor Banner had to accept and, wait—ma'am..."

The girl wasn't able to signal the guards outside the appointment room to just hold before they could even open it for you to come in, because, unfortunately, they do not take orders from secretaries not unless they were informed to. But the moment they saw you, digging your stiletto heels on the wooden floor, they knew whose order they are going to follow, even without being informed.

"Ice Queen."

"Black Widow."

You walked passed in front of the sitting mob boss and sat beside her. The air in the room is thick with tension as the two of you wait for Banner. Despite your frosty demeanor, you can feel the heat of the Black Widow's stare the moment you stepped inside, and it takes every ounce of your self-control not to look at her.

The heat and the cold fighting whose dominance will fill the room.

The Black Widow clears her throat, shifting in her chair and adjusting her sleeves, which are rolled up to reveal a series of colorful tattoos covering her arms. She wouldn't exactly call it as bothered but she was definitely shocked the moment you stepped inside but she remained composed.

And she definitely did not stare at your ass as you get pass her to take your seat.

She pulled the end of her suit in her wrists, chilled.

"How's the diamond business treating you these days?" she asks in a casual tone, her gaze fixed on you.

"Lucrative."

Another silence.

You sit back, smoothing out your long dress, which has a sexy slit that shows off your crossed legs. You feel the weight of her gaze on you, and when your pride manages to glance in her direction, you catch a quick glimpse of her eyes before they dart away. Both of you remain steadfastly facing forward, refusing to let the simmering tension between you escalate, if only for now.

You're not bothered by her. And you are not going to be bothered by her. It was her who's taking your space and time right now.

"How is the Red Room?"

"Under control."

Easy questions, with easy sounding answers. You continued to sit in silence, waiting for your comrade-of-sorts to finally come. It was never easy for such dangerous people to meet comfortably, but you are both aware of the importance of maintaining good relations with the powerful mafia doctor. Besides, you are just following your own appointment and that is right now.

Your gaze runs over her, taking in her confident, relaxed manner. She sits in the chair as if she owns the place, feet splayed out, knees bent, leaning against the armrest. Her rolled-up sleeves reveal toned arms, and even the muscles that aren't exposed are clearly defined—and it was something impossible to ignore about her, God.

Meanwhile, Natasha can feel your cold eyes on her, but she doesn't react outright. She chooses to be a gentlewoman about it, for now at least. So, she sneaks a quick glance in your direction, knowing that she is a pro stealing glances when you are not looking. The distinction between the two of you is stark, while you may be more accustomed to bold stares, Natasha relies on subtlety and stealth.

Who could blame her? It wasn't that she had a thing for you—the Ice Queen, or anything. But she admired and respected you for being a successful and powerful figure in the underworld and in your own syndicate. Natasha had known and heard about you for years and had acknowledged your achievements…while being so beautiful at the same time.

You sat quietly, breathing evenly to maintain an air of calm. You ignored the urge to fidget and mess with the lace shawl that draped elegantly over your shoulders. It didn't escape your attention that Natasha had been staring at you, with her typical lack of subtlety. Even though she might not have realized it, you were keenly aware of her gaze. At least, you could say that her stares were different from the lecherous ogling you sometimes received from other men in your line of work.

"I heard Stark bought something off of you," Natasha said nonchalantly. Trying to create a conversation once again.

You simply replied with a "Yes," not bothering to elaborate.

You are really not for small talks are you?

"Did he give you any trouble?"

"Jealous?" you couldn't resist a faint smirk, unable to help yourself. You enjoyed seeing Natasha get flustered when you teased her.

"Of having to deal with that prick?" she snorted, straightening up in her chair and tugging at her suit jacket.

"He even offered to let me keep my pick," you replied.

Natasha raised a brow at you, unable to resist rising to your bait. "He offered to let you keep your own product?"

"Yes," you responded, letting a strand of hair fall over your shoulder. "He was willing to give it to me as an engagement ring."

Natasha's laugh echoed through the room, its volume more akin to a sharp bark than a laugh. She tapped her chelsea boots on the floor, punctuating her words with a rhythmic slapping sound. Leaning closer between your chairs, she fixed you with a penetrating look.

"So, let me get this straight," the Black Widow started, her tone dripping with skepticism. "He was seriously trying to play the knight in shining armor and propose to you? He thought he could just sweep you away and offer you some kind of fairy tale existence?"

You responded with a sultry laugh, unable to resist toying with her a little more. Leaning on the right arm of your chair, you drew closer to Natasha, matching her earlier move.

"In fact, that's remarkably accurate," you retort, voice low and smooth. "And he is a literal knight in shining armor, you know?"

Natasha could only huff, clenching her jaw at your comment. Tony had always bragged about his stupid suit and armors and if he's here right now, that little comment of yours would feed his big, fat ego.

"In all his fairytale glory, he actually asked me to give up my life of crime and become his dutiful wife." You continued.

A tense moment passed as the two of you held each other's gaze. Natasha was torn between wanting to give in and ask the question that was clearly on her mind. You were equally unwilling to break the silence, waiting to see who would falter first.

Finally, the Black Widow relented, unable to bear the ice any longer.

"Obviously, you turned him down," she said, her tone betraying a hint of curiosity even as she tried to maintain her usual stoicism.

"Obviously."

"Heart elsewhere?" Natasha upturned her lips unevenly, giving you a lazy smirk, "Printsessa?"

"That's Queen," you snapped so quickly that you actually cut her off. Your tilt your head, eyes narrowing. She thought she was so cute with that stupid smirk, "To you."

"Sorry," she had a lot of nerve to chuckle right in your face. She bowed her head to you slightly, "your Majesty."

"You have a lot of nerve taking your eyes off me," you glared at her.

"Believe me, Y/N," she raised her head again. You were nose to nose. Those amazing green eyes of yours scrubbed over her face, flitting over her with wide pupils. "I can never take my eyes off you."

"You think you're so charming," you held her eyes.

"Your words, not mine."

"The word is insufferable."

"Yet here you are," she grinned. For your supposed intolerance of her, you were still leaning in as well. "Suffering me."

"And what are you suffering from?" your words came out as a soft whisper as you leaned more. You were no longer nose to nose. You were somehow even closer, heads leaning close together, foreheads almost touching, heads almost tilting. The distance between you is almost non-existent.

The heat is taking over...

Natasha let out a soft chuckle, her breath warm on your face. "Suffering?" she repeated, her eyes fixed on yours and dropping to your slightly parted lips. "Oh, you have no idea. I'm suffering in the most excruciating way." She could feel your hot breath on her lips and she could feel the heat rushing up the back of her neck too. "I could never suffer when I'm with you."

You breathed heavily. Your tongue brushed the back of your teeth. Your lips were so close. Your hand was reaching for her shirt collar.

"Please don't fuck in my office."

Nothing Burns Like The Cold: Masterlist

[feralforfrank]

simon riley x fem!reader

i was bored in class and desperately wanted to nap. so, this happened. just huge man sleeping anywhere and anytime.

simon riley loves napping. the when and where doesn't matter. if there's a chance to sleep (and he feels safe to do so), he takes it.

the most common times are after a meal, while reading a book (he will literally put it down and just casually nap for an hour), or watching a documentary with you.

the best time to nap is on a sunday morning. you drag him out of bed early, convincing him to tidy up the apartment with you. but when you give him the cleaning duties of the living room (while you're two rooms away, cleaning the bathroom or something), you best believe you'll find him dosed off, with the (thing that cleans dust) forgotten on the coffee table.

his favourite places are on your side of the bed (because it smells like you, and your pillow is fluffier, apparently), even better when you're laying on it. the couch is also a good spot, for your cat always ends up on top of him, all purring and happy (simon will never admit it, but he likes it when joe - the cat - chooses him to nap on).

but, his all-time favourite place has got to be your lower half. he starts by laying his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat while you twirl and tug on his blond strands. as the night progresses, he goes lower and lower until you feel the weight of his head on your stomach. his breathing matches yours, and you hear him occasionally hum if you tug on his hair a bit hard.

you find his habit of falling asleep so easily cute, but his napping hours weird.

you could both be watching a show, you talking his ear off about it, when you suddenly hear a snore as loud as a tractor. you can't help but lift your head from his chest with a look of bewilderment. how the fuck can he be asleep? he was talking with you two minutes ago.

or when you return home, heart in your mouth, because he wasn't answering your calls and you thought something had happened, but nooooo, simon's just snoring on the couch with a blanket draped over him and joe on top of him.

simon riley can never resist a nap.

—

bonus. the one time simon dosed off when he wasn't on leave happened to be during a debrief in price's office.

he had his arms crossed over his chest, legs spread, and leaning back against the squeaky, uncomfortable chair. it was rare for ghost to be laid-back and relaxed, always on alert for danger even in his own base. but the preparations for this mission were kicking his ass, he missed you a lot, and being surrounded by familiar faces - his work family - relaxed his muscles and his brain a bit more than it should've.

gaz noticed first and nudged soap, who snorted. that caught price's attention, who lifted his eyes from the papers he had been reading to look where his insubordinate sergeants were looking. he couldn't help but shake his head and cough to cover up his chuckle.

soap snapped a quick picture (to send to you later) before gaz cleared his throat loudly, causing the lieutenant's eyes to open. it took him a second to get back to his senses, and when he did, his glare turned towards his two sergeants, who looked like they were trying to hold their laughs in.

he never slipped in front of them again.

[connorsui]

“ Irresistibly Drawn ”

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: Satoru is usually unfazed by the world around him, but now he finds himself obsessed with you, torn between playful teasing and a deepening affection.

Genre/warnings: fluff is so soft, light Jealousy on gojos part, playful banter ,unspoken feelings, pining, gojos six eyes are constantly looking at you with hearts all over

Note: suguru lowkey would be a good bf

w.c: 1.5K

It was a peculiar thing, the way Satoru Gojo found himself inexorably drawn to you. A man of unparalleled talent, charisma, and presence, he was rarely one to be captivated by anything that did not directly challenge him. Yet here he was, seated in his usual spot in the back of Yaga's class, his cerulean eyes drifting toward you like the moon tugs at the tide.

You sat just a few rows ahead, head slightly tilted in concentration, your brow furrowed as you absorbed Yaga’s lesson. For the life of him, Satoru couldn’t tell you what the class was about. Not because he couldn’t, but because it didn’t matter. Nothing in that moment mattered except the way you were lost in thought. He felt a strange satisfaction in knowing you were this focused on something, but all he could think about was how lovely you looked—how the sunlight spilling through the window softly illuminated the curve of your cheek, the strands of your hair that framed your face.

He leaned back in his chair, one long leg casually crossing over the other, as if utterly indifferent to the world. Yet beneath the veneer of laid-back carelessness was a growing restlessness, an unfamiliar tension that knotted in his chest. Why were his eyes always drawn to you? Why did it bother him when Suguru leaned in close to offer you help, his warm laugh filling the room as you fumbled through the training exercises?

Satoru had never considered himself jealous. Jealousy was a weakness, and he was anything but weak. But when Suguru’s hand had brushed yours that day, when he'd caught you mid-stumble with an effortless grace, a smile playing on his lips, Satoru’s jaw had tightened. His fists had clenched at his sides, the itch to intervene almost unbearable. He hadn’t, of course. That wasn’t his style. But the irritation simmered beneath his calm exterior, the feeling foreign and unwelcome. That even his own six eyes grew in irritation.

She wouldn't choose suguru over us would she?

He's a certified pretty boy on both ends of the spectrum losing to him would feel worse than anything we have dealt with

Not unless we get to her first

Are we seeing the exact same thing?

Her heart is increasing

Let's just play it safe…for now ..

That evening, he’d found himself sprawled on his dorm bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the scene in his mind. Why did it bother him so much? Why was it Suguru’s grin, your laughter, the brief contact of your hands that haunted him?

When Yaga had offhandedly commented on Satoru’s distraction during class—teasingly suggesting that someone had “taken up residence in his mind”—it was like a light had flickered on in the darkest corners of his consciousness. The realization hit him all at once, as sudden and unavoidable as a torrent breaking a dam. It wasn’t jealousy he felt.

It was something much worse. He was smitten.

Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, the invincible prodigy, was utterly and hopelessly smitten with you. And it terrified him.

The next morning, he woke with a pounding heart, the memory of Yaga’s teasing and his own restless thoughts gnawing at him. He couldn’t sit still. He couldn’t think straight. Suguru’s knowing laughter had echoed in his ears after he’d confided in him, and though Satoru had laughed it off, the weight of it sat heavy in his chest. There was only one way to settle this.

So when he spotted you after class, your figure small and unassuming as you descended the steps, he found himself moving before he could think. His long strides carried him toward you, the steady thrum of his heart growing louder with each step. He felt like a fool. Satoru Gojo, who had never been nervous in his life, now felt his pulse racing, his stomach twisting with a kind of anticipation that was wholly unfamiliar.

When you finally came into view, your feet barely making a sound as you stepped lightly on the path, he stopped in his tracks. You looked up at him with those wide, curious eyes, a slight smile playing at your lips. It was the kind of smile that made something in him soften, that reminded him just how fragile this feeling was, how much power you unknowingly held over him.

“Satoru?” Your voice was gentle, laced with surprise, and it hung in the air between you both, soft like the afternoon breeze.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, words caught somewhere between his mind and lips. How could he, the one who always knew exactly what to say, find himself so completely undone in your presence?

What do we say?

Say something…

.. she's looking straight at us

For a brief moment, the idea of deflecting with one of his usual jokes crossed his mind—a laugh, a quip, something to brush this moment away. But the look in your eyes stopped him. There was a warmth, an openness, that seemed to unravel all of his carefully constructed bravado.

“I—” he began, hesitating, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t stop looking at you.”

The confession felt startlingly simple, but its weight settled in the air between you, thick with unspoken meaning. You blinked, taken aback for a heartbeat…

That's the best we can come up with?

We have done better than this ..

before a smile tugged at the corners of your lips—a knowing smile, one that made his heart stutter in his chest.

“Is that so?” you asked, a light laugh escaping your lips as you tilted your head at him. “And what exactly am I supposed to make of that? Do you actually mean it, Satoru, or is this just another one of your games?”

His smirk silently returned, the familiar glint of humor and charisma flashing in his eyes. “Oh, I mean it. I don’t throw around compliments unless they’re deserved. And trust me, you’ve been distracting me all day.”

Your smile deepened, but your voice carried a playful edge as you crossed your arms. “Distracting you, huh? Should I feel honored? Or is this just your way of telling me you’ve been spacing out instead of actually ”

“Heyyyy,” he leaned in ever so slightly, the mischievous grin never leaving his face, “can you blame me thoughhh? You’re a lot easier on the eyes than whatever there is going on. Honestly, I think you’ve made my life more bearable to deal with.”

You rolled your eyes, but your expression softened in amusement. “Is that all I am to you? Just a way to pass the time?”

“Not at all,” Satoru said, and for a moment, his voice lost some of its teasing lilt. “If you must know, I’ve been thinking about you—quite a bit, actually.” His gaze held yours for a moment longer, the humor in his tone giving way to something more genuine.

I can't read to her …

Well read harder?

Her heart is steady

And her eyes are so direct to us

..Is she teasing?

There was a pause before you spoke again, the playful spark still dancing in your eyes. “Well, since you’ve been so preoccupied with me, what are you going to do about it?”

He blinked, a bit caught off guard, but quickly recovered with a low chuckle, brushing a hand through his hair as he leaned back with that signature ease. “I was thinking of taking you out far with me …something to ease up our little life into something far more exciting..maybe some fun in the city?”

“Hmm,” you mused, feigning thoughtfulness. “And what makes you think I’d accept such an offer?”

Satoru grinned, the confidence returning full force as he straightened up. “Cmoonn you really going to say no to me?, your favorite? —letting go of such an offer as my wallet in your hands?”

You shook your head, laughing softly at his audacity, but there was a flicker of excitement in your smile. “Alright then, why don’t you meet me outside the tech’s gates later? And we’ll see if you can keep me as entertained in person as you claim.”

Satoru’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his features, but he quickly masked it with his usual bravado. “Wait, you mean today? ...Like, today today?”

You giggled, taking a step back, your laughter light as it filled the space between you. “Yes, today. If you really mean what you say, I’d love to see you try.”

This is working

How is this working?

Don't question it

He felt his heart skip, his usual mask slipping for a moment as something warmer, more real, surfaced beneath the swagger. “Then I guess I’ll have to bring my A-game. But don’t think I’ll let you win so easily. I’ve still got a reputation to uphold.”

You turned with a playful smile, your voice drifting back to him as you walked away. “Oh, don’t worry, Gojo. I’m expecting a challenge.”

He watched you leave, his grin widening as a thought flickered in his mind—perhaps, just this once, losing wouldn’t be so bad.

Listen I just want a smitten gojo who wants us internally ...mmhkay?

[starzblvd]

Is she all that you want? Is she all that you need?

marriagecouncler!reader x married!ellie, cheating, mid/late twenties, fluff + suggestive, smoking an; i thought of this during one of my classes and i can’t tell if this idea is stupid or not but still came out longer than i thought bye, obvi i don’t actually condone cheating

marriagecouncler!reader that choose this job for being an absolute natural in the matchmaking field. You’ve paired countless couples, take your very first perfect pairing Tommy and Maria, constant on and offs with absolute no pay off, after secret private meetings with both of them since you really had no qualifications yet, you not only rekindled their relationship to on again but now they stuck onto each other like superglue, so marriage counseling should be a piece of cake! The beginning of your career was easy cruising, teaching communication skills for poor strained and confused couples in need. Work was a whole lot easier when you weren’t attracted to your client though.

marriagecouncler!reader who’s leaned over her desk to reach across with an outstretched manicured hand to her newest clients, Ellie Williams and Cat somethinglastname. They went way back marrying young at twenty and had only started dating each other in senior year of highschool. Of course you weren’t there to judge, but both of them looked completely tired of each other. The way they looked at each other was as passionate as a stranger you would bump into. You sat back down into your leather chair assessing both of them and their story how getting married at 20 was probably the worst thing they ever choose to do with their free will, Ellie though was something you had to analyze for yourself. Short tussled auburn hair strayed into a bun, freckled cheeks kissed by the sun too hard burning them a bit pink, a lean and toned build you caught onto once seeing her forearms in her tattered brown flannel.

marriagecouncler!reader looking hopeless with a hand under the chin at the couple situated on complete opposite sides of the love seat, “No, no. I never said you couldn’t hang out with Dina i just said you really shouldn’t if you know what’s good for our marriage.”

“Hello are you hearing yourself? That’s the same thing! She’s been my friend since middle school and you want to ice me out because she asked me to be JJ’s godmother and you think she wants me to be her new mommy too?”

Cat had both her arms and legs crossed and looked like she was ready to chew out Ellie and whatever words she had left. She combed through her short bob, glancing back at you staring at you with a “see what I have to deal with?” stare. The session was coming to its end and most of it was spent spatting which they could’ve done at home like they usually do free of charge.

“Okay so we really have to instill some skill like tools-“

“Save it. We’re out, don’t want your overtime fee, see you.” Cat yanked her jacket from the middle of the cushions and saw herself out the door, she wasn’t going to cooperate that was for sure. Ellie sighed, sunken down into her own separate island feeling embarrassed over her grown wife’s tantrum, her eyes looked tired similar to an old weary dog.

“I’m sorry, i’m sure it wasn’t her intention to come off that rude.” She looked so defeated and so fine. It felt heated in your office or maybe it was just yourself, you looked back at her apologetically because it would be anything but unprofessional to gang up on the other partner.

“Do you still even want her?” It was like the words struck out of you, the thought that threatened to slip out from you the entire hour came out like a barrel from a sawed off shotgun.

marriagecouncler!reader who was being stared down at by Ellie with a look that crossed terrified and confusion together. As fast as you said that was as fast as the regret settled in, you sat up to scramble an apology before Ellie interrupted with her reply,

“At the time when we got together I must have, I mean I was happy enough to let her puncture her design into my skin,” she grinned coyly raising her tatted forearm from the armrest, she honestly looked so cute defeated you looked at her hopelessly again, but not out of pity, more so that you know this was going hard case for your personal sake.

marriagecouncler!reader that suggests separate, alone, one on one counseling sessions! You schedule Cat at an earlier time save Ellie for your last session so the thought of having to hurry along to get the next client in the chair wasn’t a problem. Instead of working on instilling those ’skillful tools’ like promised, you found that talking about your interests was so much more interesting. From those long running sessions you now know about her life long passion for the stars above and how convinced she use to be and probably still is that a constellation is in the scatter of her freckles, or how she’s equally talented in drawing and writing. Ellie would warm up hotter each session, from sitting 6 feet apart to scooting her seat right in front of your desk to elaborate further on whatever she talked about, eventually she asked if you would like to come over, sort of.

“All my guitars every single one of them, made by hand, by my dad,”

“You should let me hear you play sometime,”

“I mean if you came over..”

marriagecouncler!reader that found herself in Ellie’s shared estate with Cat, coincidentally while Cat was busy away at work. You knew Ellie’s wife and you were sure she wouldn’t mind! Now on their couch, you watched Ellie flustered while telling you even more of her life before marriage, how Joel was the person to get her to pick up a guitar in the first place after seeing how the move across the country at fourteen bummed her out. She took a guitar off the wall that was engraved with the same moth and fern on her made from mahogany wood and plated in silver frets,

“This one’s my favorite, she was a wedding gift and the one I mostly play on, here let me-“

The headstock of the guitar knocked over an altoids can off the short legged table, now opened you could see the pre-rolled joints stashed inside

“fuck.”

marriagecouncler!reader that has a smoke sesh on a married couples bed. Only after Ellie explained on a rant how she didn’t get high all the time and it was just that the stress was grinding her down to dust, being understanding you told her you couldn’t care less. So, maybe asking if you wanted to light one wasn't outside the realm of boundaries.

“My lighters in the room i’m not allowed to sleep in anymore, cmon follow me,”

She lit one up for you to share amongst yourselves right there without bothering to move back down, at first you just enjoyed each others face, looking, batting eyes and wasting time instead of acting out what both of you wanted to do, both of you still waiting on the other. Her dimmed eyes were like a lure steering you in, “i think we know what this.” it came out as a whisper from you, not needing to speak up since she was right in front of you.

Ellie was still a bit timid as the first time you met her, but now with more of air of confidence.

“I never denied you before,” you didn’t know if to thank the weed or her pure surge of impulse, but you were really fucking grateful she kissed you first when you leaned in impossibly close to her.

If Cat really was all Ellie needed she wouldn’t have her hands squeezing your hips and using the hold she had on you to push down onto her raised knee so you could get yourself off humping her and into her. She let you comb the layers in her hair with your fingers while kissing you as needy as she was for not being very active as of late.

marriagecouncler!reader that comes to the conclusion that divorce isn’t a shameful thing at all, but a new path for an opportunity of happiness in a new lasting love! Ellie nodded in complete compliance like the idea hadn’t struck her sooner or that you hadn’t both planned this in the back door of her kitchen while you were one step outside with your tousled hair and inside out crinkled top. The familiar sound of Cat’s car pulling up in the driveway dissolved the moment into a panic of Ellie jumping into her jeans while you picked up your tossed bra from the lamp shade. You rushed to the bottom floor on your tippy toes down the stairs, Ellie following suite whisper screaming “Kitchen! door outside in kitchen!” You wish you had the privilege of privacy, but you can’t really do that in someone else’s house and for the reason of hiding an affair. Turning the doorknob and throwing the door against the outside wall you bent over to slide into your kitten heels giggling a goodbye,

“Call me when you miss me yeah?”

“Too corny to ask to call you mine and call off this matrimony?” Ellie stood perched on the doorway with that forsaken grin she pulls out each time she gets flustered, she sounded like an absolute dork despite an absolute dick for being a cheater in her shared home.

Back in your office Cat cracked a smile for the first time ever, she took out a pen from her own purse and signed the documents you oh so suddenly conveniently had on hand.

marriagecouncler!reader that has to stay a secret for a few months so Ellie didn’t look like two faced whore. Driving to the next town over to have dinner in public in her new sports car because when’s a better time to treat yourself than setting yourself free from a draining relationship? As much as she had to keep things private from everyone else she always made sure to let you know how much she loved you even if it wasn’t in words all time, whether it be in the way she got intimate with you, holding you like an anchor to herself or how she helped you in practically whatever you asked. Around the 7 month mark you both did have to work out a new story as to to how you met for the sake of saving yourselves of having to serve the dirty details to everybody.

marriagecouncler!reader that has an awkward reencounter with Tommy and Maria in the backyard of Joel’s house during a family get together as Ellie’s new girlfriend.

[gravesdept]

♡　＃　𓂃 Imagine you being vladimir makarovs right hand man — who he tolerates just a bit more than his other lapdogs, maybe he even lets you speak down to him, informs you on plans you have no business being in on, and lets you push his buttons.

everyone wonders whats just so special about the man whose always by makarovs side, he wonders so just as well as you both take hefty puffs off an old cigar that use to be stashed away in the back of his desk, its awfully hot in the room he thinks looking from the window back towards you who, well, is leaning just a couple inches astray from his face.

from this angle he cant see anything but the light at the end of the cigar, the room of his office fairly dark being only illuminated by light from the skyscrapers windows.

it takes a minute before you pass him back the almost dull blunt, it ends up sitting between his fingers for a bit as he trudges through his thoughts, “this situation is risky, boy, you know that righ’?” although he speaks clearly enough you cannot wrap your head around what he is implying

“not sure I understand.”

at that he puts the cig out on the desk resorting to just crossing his arms “this I mean, us, your not so subtle soldier.” he looks you dead in the eyes now, a look that youve seen men be killed for even witnessing.

its silent and almost peaceful in this small pocket of time “mm wasnt tryin’ to be subtle sir,, y’know pinning after you is no easy task.” you’d say jokingly if the man infront of you hadn’t killed many men whose ranks had rivaled yours in status, instead you stay quiet choosing to move all the bit closer to him in thought, hands resulting to rest in your jacket pockets.

“i could kill you, have you lit on fire for even thinkin such thoughts about me — yet you would just keep coming back, even offering to stand by my side like some kind of lacky in love.” he spits with just a hint of venomous tone “it repulses me even thinking about it; you fuckin’ in love with me solider?”

the scowl thats always reaching on his pretty face returns just once as he stands straight from leaning on the desk. hes still shorter than you and it only adds to his fuel.

“no m’not, hows that? was it satisfying enough for you?” a lie you half think about closing the distance between you two. but the metal that gets pressed up against your skull is enough assurance to halt the bare thought of movement.

his eyes search yours once more and before you know it your back is being pressed firmly against the desk.

maybe its the sensation from being high or just the adrenaline from this damn heat but you feel very obligated to wrap a hand around the hand thats holding up your ender, again its the post blunt high thats making you see things because his hand totally doesn’t falter when you touch it and it for sure doesn’t let you lower the gun either.

yeaaaa who laced the cigar because his facial expression isn’t in a scowl anymore its almost distraught watching you maneuver the gun to sit behind on the desk, his voice stoping you temporarily “not any further soldier. you’re messin w’ my fuckin head right now, and thats not what you want.”

the look you give him is deafening and its filled with something he cant source.

“what are you .. to decide what I want. are y’ afraid that i might break you?” you’re pushin it yet there it is again that same scowl just a bit deeper than before. its like your a fucking ticking bomb thats just wanting to explode “i'm jus’ waitin for your permission sir, to let me have you”

in another universe you might have been killed at the spot and brutally beaten until unrecognizable.

“do what you’ want, but you'd better make it damn good or i'll have to kill you.” he says backing up until his legs hit his office chair the sqeaking reminding the both of you where you just so happen to be at this hour.

but that is the last thing you’d have ever thought to hear from this oh so difficult man.

note ;; chat am I cooking even though this kind of out of character? ,, I keep blue balling cause I really cant write full fics but we getting there also requests will be opening soon, my messages are open right now if anyone wants to thirst tho.

[angelsleepinggurl]

𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐬

cw: fingering in a library

.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧

it’s pathetic to say but books seem to be the only friend you’ve been capable of making at high school. it doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, who would want to befriend lying, back-stabbing, drama-causing bitches? you simply didn’t have time to deal with that anyway. the only thing in mind is your dream school, waiting for you arms outstretched and all. you find yourself in the library yet again, past school hours, deciding to hole yourself up in the silent room until closing hours, then studying more in the comfort of your own room. exciting friday evening!

frustrated, you puff as you get stumped by another question. today simply isn’t your day and you can’t understand why not. everything seems to be going the same. unless-

your thoughts are interrupted by a familiar figure strolling over to you, sporting the usual bedhead and that infuriatingly lazy smirk. of course.

kuroo tetsurou drags the chair out from beside you and sits on it backwards, as if that was somehow charming. what, is this supposed to be sexy? "hey, princess," he drawls, looking at you through his raven-black hair, his voice slow and syrupy. you respond with nothing more than a glare and a pointed nod toward the 'silence in the library' sign above your head. "no one follows that stupid rule," he says, deadpan. you roll your eyes and pointedly shift in your seat, turning your back to him. "aw, don’t be like that," he purrs, his tone almost teasing but as lazy as ever. there's something catlike about the way kuroo moves and talks like he’s never in a rush. every word seems deliberate, almost annoyingly slow. "i just wanna have a little fun," he whispers, leaning in, his face far too close for comfort.

you can practically feel the smugness radiating off him. and of course, he’d choose now to be a distraction. an unfamiliar hand circles the flesh around your knee, the owner of that hand grins at you, chin resting in his hand. you slap it away, not tolerating any of his nonsense. “fine.” he says in surrender, arms lifting off. “i won’t get up to anything. you would sigh in relief but you know better than that. “but can i just…” the same sneaky hand back on your exposed leg, thumb gently rubbing circles on the soft skin. “keep it here. to keep you company. and mostly because i can.” this makes you loosen up.

right. your autonomy has been stripped from you.

you turn to face your books properly, deciding to delve into your material again, maybe this time you’d focus better. “good girl, see that wasn’t so hard.”

silence envelops the both of you as it’s meant to be, and it’s fine. he really isn’t bothering you, the problem is your sensitivity. you’ve realised that your fogged-up mind was due to your lack of release. a kuroo being here, his hand shifting higher and higher, every occasional grope being tighter than the last has you subconsciously squeezing your legs together. you’re hoping he won’t notice, especially as you keep switching legs to cross and avoiding squeezing your thighs together but soon it's evident on your face and how you’ve not picked up your pen after 5 whole minutes. you’re sitting staring holes into your maths book, hoping you don’t make as much of a twitch to give him the wrong signal. a signal on which he picks up.

“don’t stop because of me, really. i’m just here to watch you work is all.” you can’t even snap back at him as you’re focusing on no sounds slipping past your lips. “but,” he says carefully, leaning close. if you need to ever ‘let lose’ you know who to come to. i mean I'm not a study expert like you, but i do know… that if you’re not in the right headspace, then it’s hard to remember what you’ve learnt. i may know a few ways to help unwind. say the word and i’m yours.”

“ohh.” it’s quiet when you succumb to him, allowing this. but you can’t help it, you feel pent up and your mind isn’t thinking clearly.

“i’ll take that.”

you’re gonna hate yourself for this.

“make it quick.” you snap, readjusting your sitting angle to allow room for his hand.

“oh honey, i don’t rush my work.” he informs you, eyes locking with yours as he looks up.

great.

“what if we-”

“get caught?” he finishes, tearing his gaze away from your legs and to you. “don’t worry, i know that one of your big concerns, that won’t happen. unless you can’t keep your mouth shut.” with a slow hand, he lifts the fabric of your skirt, cold air rushing further up your legs. “you really are a soaker. look at that.” he exclaims, the only time his eyes seem to widen as he soaks in the sight of your drenched cunt, wetting your panties.

usually, you would feel a flush of embarrassment but the need the need to come is stronger. cautiously, kuroo slips his fingers down the undergarment, the gentle pads of his fingers reaching your clit. you sigh softly as with gentle rubs he soothes your stress. you place your hands around his arm, which seems to be working its magic as you’re finding it difficult to sit still in your chair. you see him wanting to tease you about your inability to stop squirming, which he bites back upon seeing your targeted stern look. you’re actively pushing down moans in the silent library, the only sound is chairs shuffling, pages rustling and pens rolling. not the sound of a girl having her pussy played with when anyone could come in and spot the two students in the act, getting them expelled.

but it’s all too thrilling. maybe for kuroo more than you. he doesn't notify you when his fingers slip from your sensitive bud and down into your throbbing cunt. you instinctively squeeze your thighs together, the sensations getting stronger and making it harder for you to control yourself. it’s almost as if kuroo is chasing the high himself, the way his fingers pump and curl so rhythmically, fingertips brushing against your g-spot every so often. “shh baby, we don’t wanna get caught now do we?” purrs in your ear, clearly enjoy how flustered he’s making you and how powerful you make him feel. you close your eyes and drop your head back, rather than focusing on not riding his fingers subtly. “don’t need to hold back on my account, you can ride em if you wanna.” kuroo’s laser-sharp focus and attentivity to subtle details like that almost freak you out. as if he’s almost watching. “come on princess ik you want it.” he says with a smile, that you can feel on your cheek. pressed against it and feeling defeated as his smug grin boasts itself in your face. you almost have half a mind to push him off and leave, but in that way, you don’t get satisfied, you don’t release, you don’t win. “there’s a good girl.” he hums as you give into your corporeal desires, and start rolling your hips towards him. you hate you admit it, but he is damn good. he knows how to work those fingers.

your hair falls in front of your face again as you lean it forward, feeling the pressure build-up within you faster than usual, your sweet release seems to be approaching much more hurriedly. £fuck I'm close I'm gonna come.” you pant out breathlessly, still aware to keep your voice down.

“i know, i know, i can tell. i’ll make you come real soon.” his lips attach to your jaw as he kisses along it. £fuck you’re tight.” he states, removing his lips from you and focusing on speeding up and working his fingers faster, thrusting harder. now the chair is squeaking against the floor and your heart is racing, from fear, excitement and pure bliss of all the sensations blurred into one. kuroo places a large hand over your mouth, covering it firmly as he feels your high approaching. it takes a few more seconds before you’re squealing muffled squeals into his palm, closing your eyes and pointing your toes. “ cumming all over my finger like that, didn’t take you for a messy girl.” his fingers are drenched in your arousal and neediness. dripping in pure out as he peels his hand away slowly. drinking in the sight of your puffed-out state, trying desperately to silently catch your breath in the library. your composure is lost as you place your hand on the edge of your chair to keep yourself upright, hair slightly sticking to your face and legs still in the air as you come down. “messy girl,” he coos. “this is no way to leave the school, don’t want your cum ruining the carpet now do we, open wide.” you follow his instructions without a second thought, your mouth opening wide on command as his fingers invade it. you suck without being told to, your tongue swirling around his digits as you look up at him with your larger doe eyes.

“there’s a good girl. hey fun idea, wanna take this to the table? i can think fo a couple ways to make you cum faster.” you deadpan at his suggestion. your face does not even crinkle in the slightest to show the least bit of amusement.

“was that supposed to be funny? that’s no funny. please leave now, you’re disrupting our silence.”

“the only thing disturbing the silence was your loud ass pussy, but whatever you say princess.” he shrugs,

⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲

(please send a dm or comment on my the pinned blog to join.)

taglist: @slutkoo

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫…

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫…

[lorasdolly]

Hello! I hope you have a nice day :3

★Jinx meets tatto artista! Reader. She was just passing by until she saw the studio, then decided on the spot to do something spontaneous because she said "why not?". Reader is the complete opposite of Jinx, but they get along well as they talk. If possible if you can please use GN! Reader.

Take care!

𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚓𝚒𝚗𝚡

Jinx was walking down the plaza, bored out of her mind. She and her sister had plans to go out, have a meal, catch up, but Vi canceled last minute claiming her wife had a bad fever.

Jinx huffed, watching as rain came down, only slightly wet since she found shelter quickly. It had been such a dreadful day.

She continued walking down the side walk of the plaza, looking through the window of every store till something caught her eye. She did a double take, slowly walking backwards to look through the window of a studio.

She squinted, focused on where you sat, legs crossed on a stool, concentrated on— Jinx's eyes glazed over the tattoos on your arm and down to what you were doing— a client.

She watched as the zoom-in glasses slid down your nose slightly, hair framing pieces of your face perfectly. Jinx was in some sort of trance, watching your leg bounce as you move the needle with precision.

Jinx's eyebrows knit together, forehead wrinkles an indicator of choosing whether or not she should go inside.

Her hand wraps around the door knob, pulling it open and trying to be as discrete as possible. Her eyes never left you, standing in a random spot of the studio waiting for the tattoo to be done.

You put your needle down, a slight smile gracing your lips as the client expresses their joys with the design. Jinx wondered how someone who seemed to have such a stressful job was so patient, sweet.

The client paid, walking out the door, giving a small smile to Jinx who never returned it.

You still hadn't noticed Jinx standing in a corner as you tidied up, you didn't even notice as she creeped up on you.

Only once she put both hands on your shoulder, slightly bouncing off, did you notice. Your eyes widened, nearly getting whiplash from how you turned your head.

When your eyes took in her sight, the way the braids she had reached down, tattoos on her arm, the act of innocence sparkling in her eyes, you nearly melted.

"Excuse me..?" You spoke, voice mellow.

"Hey—! You wanna tattoo me next?" Jinx spoke, a grin on her face as she sat where the previous client was at.

Your head turned once again, this time to the clock. "My next client gets here in... forty minutes." You stated, placing your glasses above your head.

Jinx shrugs, "That's good enough!" Her feet swung off the chair she was on, a smile still plastered on her face.

"You should tattoo right— here!" Jinx point at her forearm. "Your number!" She continued, exclaiming.

Your eyes widened, an eyebrow raising as you were putting on your gloves. "My.. what?" You started fiddling with the second glove in your hand, not knowing how to react to such advances.

"Your number? On your phone, silly."

You shake your head, "That's.. not appropriate." She giggles, her arms snaking around your neck childishly. "Awh, then how can i get you to give me it?" She says, a slight pout on her lips, no concept of personal space running through her head.

"I— I have a client in a few," Your hands touch the sides of her waist hesitantly, gently trying to push her off. She huffed, pulling away and looking down at you.

"We can go eat...? Just cancel on them!" Jinx was persistent, she wanted to get you to do something random, spontaneous.

You looked at the clock, still not fully convinced. You were reluctant, yet her invite was enticing.

"Let's make it quick."

It was stepping out of your comfort zone, but the time wasn't entirely wasted, maybe even well spent. Jinx spoke for most of the time and you listened, occasionally adding your input to the conversations.

The contrast was prominent, the calmness behind your actions and the severity behind hers. She'd often make passes at you and she would lengthen moments.

You lost track of time, missing the rest of your clients for the day. She giggled as your hand met your face stressfully, realizing you lost half a day of money.

She stood with you next to the immense water fountain, center of the plaza. The light reflected off her features, emphasizing the sparkle in her eyes, the grin on her face, and the occasional tiny scars scattered throughout her face.

Your eyes melted, lips slightly parted. She was different from yourself, chaotic, disoriented, it was a nice contrast though. One that could keep you on your toes yet nicely grounded.

There was a moment of comfortable silence, it didn't last very long when a thunderous noise came from the sky. You flinched, bounching lightly, making her chuckle.

"Ya' scared of some rain?" She commented, playfully mocking. You shook your head, awkwardly giggling back. "Uhm— no.." Another one striked, along with lightning, causing you to tumble a bit once again.

Her laughs were more consistent now, but you just stared at the way she looked.

Rain sprinkled, making you look up in suprised. "Oh— We should get you under a roof, you might get sick.." You spoke, grabbing her wrist and trying to tug her away as the rain got heavier.

She let you yet stopped in the middle of the street, rain still pouring over the both of you.

She looked hesitant for the first times you two met, her hands bringing you closer and pressing a firm kiss against your lips. You both grew drenched, hair soaked to the tip, but you didn't pull away.

Your hands went around her own neck, kissing softly, needily. She was more ardent with her motion but you were slow, taking time with her.

You could hardly feel the rain anymore, focused on the dance of tongues between you and Jinx. She pulled away first, you followed after her before finally removing your lips.

She took deep breaths, a smile painted onto her, basically permanently.

"Was the day off worth it?" She questioned giggling, staring at her lipstick smudged on your lip and corners.

You only hummed in agreement, pressing her body closer to yours.

[gabstea]

Cozy Library

Levi x female!reader Words: 768 No warnings, enjoy!

Nights had always been difficult for her. A good night’s sleep was a luxury. Tossing and turning beneath the sheets, which suddenly didn’t feel comfortable enough—hell, not even the pillow felt good enough, either too hard or too flat for her liking. She sighed, trying to focus on her breathing, closing her eyes, counting to 100. Nothing worked.

And when she did manage to drift off? It never lasted. Every few hours, a stupid little sound, almost imperceptible, would rouse her.

“Really?” A groan escaped her mouth as she covered her eyes with her arm, a clear testament to how frustrating this situation was. No matter how many years she had been dealing with it…  it never got easier.

The empty corridors helped clear her mind as she walked through them, almost every single night. And almost every single night she would cross paths with him—the feared Captain of the Survey Corps who happened to have the same problem as her…

Too much in his mind—plans, endless files, maps and the constant memories which haunted him every time he closed his eyes. So he would do the same: walk through every corridor, until inevitably ending up in a quiet and seemingly forgotten library.

The aroma inside of it was a blend of old books and a hint of dust that made most people wrinkle their noses. Yet, he found it comforting, allowing himself to forget, for a moment, how unpleasant the dust felt on his hands whenever curiosity led him to touch the shelves. The spot he usually chose to sit, the only area that has been cleaned.

When he started crossing paths with her, something changed. In his mind, the thought of her willingly choosing to follow him until that library felt… appealing. When morning came, he ordered a scout to clean the area, inspecting it himself later that same evening. Good enough.

A few nights later, as she wandered around, the faint scent of freshly brewed tea filled her chest with an unexpected warmth she couldn’t ignore. Her steps were cautious, silent, except for the occasional soft cracks of her joints against the cold stone. She ended up peeking through the door, her hair falling over her shoulders as she leaned in.

There he was. Levi is sitting in his usual spot, a teacup in hand. He glanced up, watching her. His expression as calm and indifferent as if they haven’t crossed paths in their entire lives. As if he hadn’t noticed her since he decided to join the Survey Corps years ago.

“Sorry, didn’t think someone was actually here, Captain.” She fidgeted with her sleeves. Levi frowned.

“What a stupid thought.” He mumbled. He wasn’t entirely wrong. The cozy library was softly illuminated by candlelight, and he knew that the scent of the tea he brewed could be smelled from the distance. It was obvious someone—he—was there.

The silence embraced the place, and when she opened her mouth to speak—some quick apology— he clicked his tongue and shifted on his seat.

“You gonna stand there all night?”

It wasn’t just a question. It was an invitation. He stretched out his legs, nudging the chair across from him with his foot and then nodded, the message was clear. A quiet laugh escaped her, and slowly, she walked, sinking into the offered chair.

“Why are you here?”

“Could ask the same. It’s past midnight.” He took a sip from his teacup, not taking his eyes off her. “We’ve been running into each other almost every night.”

Crossing her legs, she sighed deeply and looked at the table—the only thing between them.

“Trouble sleeping?” Levi continued speaking. His gray eyes softened for a second. It was subtle, but it was enough to make her chest tighten and a faint blush creep up her neck.

“That’s an understatement.” A shy smile appeared on her face, quickly trying to hide it by looking away.

He huffed quietly. “Figured.”

They didn’t say anything more, he sipped from his tea again and leaned back in his chair. She shifted under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her disheveled hair, or her large nightgown swallowing her whole. I look ridiculous.

“How long are you staying?”

His voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

She blinked repeatedly, caught off guard. “Depends. Are you kicking me out?”

Levi raised an eyebrow. Lips curling into a smirk.. “Not tonight.”

His gaze softened again.

It was an invitation. One she couldn’t bring herself to refuse. Maybe their trouble sleeping wasn't so bad after all, not if it meant sharing a quiet, cozy library in the middle of the night.

[silent-stories]

𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 (𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐅 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄)

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: Some of the guys drop by for a surprise visit.

That morning, some of the guys had shown up without warning, just the sound of the doorbell followed by three familiar voices yelling their hellos and good mornings.

The moment you swung the door open, Neki launched himself at Matt with the force of a missile, tail wagging so hard it looked like he might take off.

Matt staggered back, losing his balance on the porch steps and ending up on the ground as he tried to fend off a face full of sloppy dog kisses, laughing and cursing at the same time. Nick and Folio were no help, both too busy laughing to step in, and you just shook your head, already used to that.

Now, you were curled up on the couch next to Noah, your legs tucked under you, his hand resting loosely in yours. He wasn’t exactly holding your hand, not the full, fingers-laced kind of hold, but his thumb kept tracing slow circles across the back of your hand like a habit he didn’t even know he had. It was always comforting.

Matt, Nick, and Folio were spread out across the living room, half-listening to each other’s stories, half-watching Luna as she sat cross-legged in front of Folio, showing him the intricacies of stacking her animal-shaped blocks in color order.

He was all in, nodding seriously as she explained the difference between “this kind of elephant” and “the other kind,” even if she was making half of it up.

Folio was the kind of guy who could hang with a toddler all day and still have fun. He sat cross-legged too, at her eye level, pretending to be absolutely shocked when her tower reached four blocks tall without falling.

“Oh my god, you're basically an architect.”

Luna was wearing soft pink leggings with little stars on the knees and a slightly too-big t-shirt with a smiling sun printed on the front. Her socks, as often, didn’t match, one covered in tiny strawberries, the other with little moons.

You’d always loved how Noah never cared what she decided to wear, as long as she was happy and comfy. He let her choose colors, patterns, textures, even if they clashed, and never tried to tone her down into beige neutrals like so many parents on the internet seemed to do. Luna looked like herself. Like a kid. And you completely loved it.

“No,” she said simply. “I’m just really good.”

Nick laughed from where he sat on the armchair, shaking his head. “She’s got confidence.”

“That's my girl,” Noah said beside you, a tiny smile tugging at his lips.

You let your head lean against his shoulder, feeling the low rumble of his laugh beneath your cheek as Folio said something dumb to make Luna laugh.

Matt was sitting on the couch too, one of the muffins you and Luna had baked a few days earlier halfway to his mouth, when she suddenly turned to him with that curious little furrow in her brow.

“Matt,” she said, serious. “Why do you always wear a hat?”

The whole room paused. You stifled a laugh. Matt blinked.

“I don’t always wear it,” he said.

“Yes you do,” Luna countered. “Even when it’s not raining. Even when it’s sunny. Even inside. Like now.”

Noah choked on his sip of water, turning his face into your shoulder to muffle his laugh. You were shaking silently too, watching Matt try to defend himself to a three-year-old.

“Well…” Matt shrugged. “Maybe I just really like hats.”

“Or,” Luna said, tapping her chin, “maybe you’re hiding something.”

Nick howled from the chair. “Matt, are you secretly bald?”

“I have a full head of hair, thank you very much,” Matt protested, tugging the hair peaking out of the hat. Luna’s eyes narrowed like she wasn’t convinced.

“Hmm,” she said suspiciously, before turning back to her blocks, her curiosity satisfied for now.

Folio gave her a little fist bump. “Great investigative journalism.”

Soon, the game moved on to tea time, even though it was eleven in the morning, and Luna was explaining to all of you that Mr. Flop only liked tea with a nice slice of strawberry shortcake.

That’s when Folio leaned in and asked, “I’m definitely the best uncle you’ve ever had. Right, Luna?”

Luna blinked at him, head tilted. Before she could answer, Matt jumped in.

“Hey—no way. I’m the one who gave you that plush raccoon last month, remember? I’m obviously the best.”

Nick, from his perch on the armchair, raised a hand. “Do I need to remind you clowns that I’m the one who taught her how to play that keyboard toy thing?"

They all turned to Luna like she was a royal judge presiding over a very serious court case.

“Okay, Luna,” Folio said, pointing at his chest. “Be honest. Who’s your favorite?”

Luna looked between the three of them. “I don’t have one. I like all my uncles. Jolly too.”

Matt insisted. “But if you had to pick one, just one. Like—gun to your head—”

“Matthew!” you scolded, laughing.

“Fine, fine. Plastic toy to your head,” he amended, holding his hands up. “Who would it be?”

Luna gave it one more beat of thought, then pointed at Matt. “You.”

Folio let out a dramatic gasp and flopped onto the floor like he’d been personally betrayed. “What?! I have been playing with you for two hours!”

Matt looked like he’d just won the Super Bowl. “Oh my god, thank you!” he said, scooping Luna up into his arms and plopping her gently onto his lap. “I knew it. I knew we were best friends.”

Luna leaned back against him with a pleased little smile. “Because you like raccoons. And I like raccoons.”

“That’s… fair,” Nick said with a shrug. “That’s a solid reason.”

For a few minutes, everyone went back to lounging and chatting. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Matt casually reach into his hoodie pocket and pass Luna a piece of candy behind his back.

"Good job." He whispered.

Folio caught it a second later. He shot to his feet, pointing at Matt like he’d just uncovered a criminal conspiracy. “You bribed a three-year-old to say you’re her favorite uncle! With candy! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Nick laughed. “I knew something was fishy!”

Matt was laughing too hard to defend himself. Luna just happily unwrapped the candy.

“I guess we’ll never know the real answer,” you said with a chuckle.

“I’m taking it as a win,” Matt declared, while Luna perched happily on his lap, still munching her candy.

Nick rolled his eyes. “You paid for the win. It doesn’t count.”

Folio shook his head and flopped back into his spot on the floor beside Luna’s now-abandoned blocks. “This isn’t over. Next time, I’m bringing... I don't know, a piñata.”

“She doesn’t even like piñatas,” Matt shot back.

“She likes fun, and you, my dude, are not fun, you’re a raccoon sympathizer with candies in your hoodie.”

Matt just rolled his eyes.

After some time, you’d gotten up to head to the bathroom, and just as you were stepping into the hallway, Nick rounded the corner, a glass of water in one hand.

You both nearly bumped into each other, then froze, smiling reflexively.

“Oh—sorry,” you said with a quiet laugh.

“No, you're fine.” He stepped back half a pace, then hesitated. “Hey, wait a sec.”

You turned, eyebrows raised.

Nick looked at you for a beat, like he was searching for the right words. “I’ve probably said this before,” he started, “but I just... I need to say it again. Or better.”

He paused. “I really love how you love him,” he said simply. “How you love both of them.”

You felt a warm feeling in your chest.

“He’s been through so much shit. He is my best friend and I just want him to be happy. And I see the way you look at him. Like it’s easy to love him. And he deserves that more than anyone. After everything? He deserves something quiet and good. And you’re that. You're one of the best things that have ever happened to him.”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you just nodded, your throat tight.

Nick offered a faint, knowing smile. “I know we’re not the most emotionally articulate group of dudes. But I notice. We all do.”

There was a pause.

"I just wanna say I'm glad you found them." He finished.

"I'm glad they found me too." You smiled. If it were any other time, you probably would have burst into tears in the hallway of what had become your home.

Nick gave you a little mock salute with his water glass. “Alright. Go pee before I get sappy again.”

You walked past him with a chuckle and a full heart.

When you came back, Luna had left Matt's lap and she gave all of you a plastic tea cup.

“For you. Candy-flavored tea,” she said. “Because you’re the prettiest.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” you replied with a warm smile. “But in that case, you should have it.”

She giggled softly, a little shy, and you mimed pouring some into her cup.

“How about we split it, okay?”

“Good idea!” she nodded, clearly pleased with the compromise.

“This isn’t just regular tea time,” she added as she gave Neki, sitting at Nick's feet, a cup too “It’s a Wonderland tea party.”

Nick blinked. “Like Alice in Wonderland?”

“Yes. I'm Alice.”

Folio laughed. “Can I be the Mad Hatter?”

“No,” Luna said with a grin. “Daddy is the Mad Hatter.”

Noah looked up from where he was absently playing with the hem of your sleeve. “I’m the Mad Hatter now?”

“Yep,” she said “Because your hair is silly when you wake up.”

“Fair enough."

“What about me?” Matt asked.

“You’re the Dormouse,” Luna said instantly. “Because you always fall asleep on the couch after lunch.”

“I’ve never—”

“You snored during Frozen,” you said.

Matt threw his hands up. “Okay, okay. Dormouse it is.”

Nick raised a finger from his spot on the armchair. “March Hare. Calling it now. It just feels right.”

Luna nodded.

“And me?” Folio asked hopefully.

“You can be the Cheshire Cat,” Luna decided.

Finally, she turned to look at you. "Who am I?”

She tilted her head, thoughtful. “You’re the Mad Hatter’s girlfriend.”

You blinked. “That’s not even a character in the book.”

“Well, it is now,” she said. “You’re the one who helps the Hatter not be too crazy."

Noah chuckled beside you, tightening his arm around your waist. “Honestly, she’s not wrong.”

“She never is,” Nick said. “It’s slightly terrifying.”

“And Neki,” she added, “is the Caterpillar.”

Matt squinted. “The one that sits on a mushroom getting high?”

Noah glared at him and Folio laughed.

Luna looked pleased with herself as she plopped back down in the center of the living room, where the blocks had now become a table and Mr. Flop (the White Rabbit, of course) sat as the guest of honor.

“Okay,” she said. “Tea is served.”

You leaned closer to Noah, your hand still under his, his thumb still tracing gentle lines. He looked over at you with soft eyes and an even softer smile.

“I love this,” you whispered.

You always loved it when the guys came over. There was something so heartwarming about seeing these tattoo-covered men joke around with a three-year-old and be the best uncles anyone could ask for, each of them in their own way. And if you’d always believed that family had nothing to do with blood ties, and you’d had that belief confirmed the moment you met Noah, it became even clearer, even more real, once you got to know all of his friends.

He didn’t say anything right away, just pressed a kiss to your hair and let his chin rest there.

“Me too,” he murmured, thumb never stopping.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @bloody-spades @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog @pandora-08 @geminigirlfromfinland

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @clickmedead @whenyouwannafindlove @kenjipepsi1

[misdeliria]

THE MONSTER'S HERE; j. todd

It was a routine covert investigation. Emphasis on covert.

Your apartment was meant to be empty when Jason climbed through the window. No sounds were coming from outside your home office, which he was counting on—after a series of days, he deduced you were following your routine. You were most likely across town now, attending meetings at your day job.

Jason took the opportunity to plant all his listening devices. One is on the plant, another is under your desk, and the last is inside the clock. 

Disassembling the clock was light work, but with all the little pieces and Jason’s massive fingers, reassembling the device took an extra minute too long. He didn’t get a chance to open your desk's top drawer when the lock on your front door clicked. 

What were you doing at home so early? You were supposed to be at work. 

Your strides outside were directly approaching your home office. Did you know he was here?

With no time to escape out the window without getting caught, Jason decided to play it cool, throwing himself in your chair and crossing his legs as the knob turned. 

“I’ve been wondering when you’d finally make your move,” is the first thing you say when you step inside. You haven’t even looked at him, glancing around the room and smiling at the plant that held his plant. “I hope you didn’t break my clock.”

You’re dressed for work with wide-bottom slacks and a padded blazer. Your hair was down, and you looked refreshed—not surprised or out of breath.  

“Christ, you’re annoying,” Jason sighed through his voicemod. “Do you know how long that took?”

“I imagine a frustrating length.” 

You were smooth. Jason had to restrain himself from reacting behind the mask at every intention you did. You took the seat by the window in the corner, eyes trailing from the bookcase to the rug before landing on him leisurely at the desk. 

“Did you find anything good?”

“How did you know?”

How did you know where the listening devices were? How did you know he would choose a Tuesday mid-morning at a random time? 

You imitated his lax posture, crossing your arms with a haughty look. 

“Because I know you, Jason.” You sound earnest as you say it, and Jason’s whole body tenses. There’s nothing on your desk for him to pretend to be interested in and give any indication that you’re wrong. But his training is lost on him. 

“But you don’t remember me,” you murmur, eyes never leaving his helmet. You’re giving everything away in your body language, your shoulders sagging, the downturn in your brows and lips: This must be a trap.

“Uh oh, didn’t realize I was dealing with a jealous ex,” Jason laughs. “Which one were you again?” Why was he provoking her?

He must’ve hit a nerve because you just frown with a tick in your jaw. 

“How much do you know?” This catches Jason’s attention. This could work out for him.

“You work at a club near Gotham Heights. Your boss has recently been dealing with Roman Sionis.” If he gave you a little nudge on the subject, you’re bound to give him more details. 

Your expression falls in disappointment, and you suddenly look tired of him. 

“If that’s all you’re here for, I’m sorry to disappoint.” You don’t look at all that sorry. “He doesn’t keep me in the loop often. I don’t know anything.”

“There’s a shipment next week, and I want to know what’s in those containers.”

You exaggerate a sigh, throwing your head back while rolling your eyes. “You’re so demanding. It’s amazing how you’ve become successful in your line of work. Do you even know what I do at the club?”

Jason kept quiet under the helmet, racking his brain for your role. You were only labeled as hired as an employee in the records, but it didn’t specify what. Another question on the long list he wanted answers to. 

“Burbank, my boss, runs an underground fighting ring alongside the club. It’s a front.”

“Yeah, I know.” What does that have to do with you?

“Come on, use your head,” you jeer, and an epiphany sparks when your eyes glow blue. You smile with an ominous aura and tell him, “I’m his security.”

Jason instinctively reaches for the strap on his hip, but you tsk at him. 

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Who are you?” Jason spits venomously, mildly panicking at this new development. Your home office was an average domestic room, so it was safe to say the rest of your apartment was also. You worked a 9 to 5, and yet you fought for an underground fight club. And, worst of all—

You knew exactly who he was.

“I’m not that surprised you don’t recognize me,” you muse. “I started dying my hair after your funeral.”

His funeral? Were you his classmate? Wait—

“Who are you?” Jason demanded this time. The image of a dark-haired girl in a Gotham Academy uniform flashed through his mind. She was the daughter of an elite, the youngest in a family of men. 

“I think you know who I am,” you answer, leaning against the chair armrest. “And it’s so good to see you again.”

a/n: just practicing rn; might add more later

[mrsparrasblog]

You're losing me pt.6

TW: torture, mention of rape

prev part. first part

"I guess we need to talk, Johnny." You looked at him, and the incredible feeling of guilt consumed your stomach. How could you believe a random girl over Johnny?

"Yeah, I guess we need to hen." he said while rubbing the stubbles on his chin. The last week was the most chaotic in his life. He thought he had lost you for good, and when Kyle told him that crazy whore was in your apartment, it was over. That was a line he thought she wouldn't cross. You were a civilian, an innocent civilian who got into this shit because of him. 

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, hen." 

Both of you apologized at the same time, getting a confused look out of each other. "What're you sorry for, Bonnie?"

"I believed her. I believed that you would cheat on me."

"I didn't explain it, did I?"

„No," he told the truth. He didn't deny anything, but you maybe still should have asked yourself if it was the truth. The guilt ate you alive.

"I'm sorry for getting that crazy bitch in your life; did she hurt you?" He took your hand in his, examining if any new bruise or scar was there. 

"Physically no"

"Hen" 

"I love you, Johnny, you know."

"Of course I know; I love you too."

"Do you want to tell me what really happened?"

He nodded and started to explain how he woke up and didn't know what happened, how he felt guilty and hated himself, how John took the fall for everything, how he realized that she raped him, how she accused him of raping her, and how she made him believe no one would ever believe him. How he wanted to tell you everything, and then that slag turned everything around, convincing him that no one would believe him, and finally how Simon believed him and how he opened up. Your heart broke into a million pieces hearing what she did to your poor Johnny.

“You didn't deserve that love.“

„I know I still feel dirty, you know." You knew the feeling all too well, but you didn't know right now what you could do to make it better, so you just took him in your arms, caressing the soft edges of his Mohawk. „You're not dirty, Johnny; her action doesn’t define you." You held Johnny the whole time while he was crying in your arms. ——————————————————————————   This wasn’t the first time, neither for John nor Ghost, but it was never this personal. They had never had as much fun as this time. Ghost already pulled her on a chair, tying her wrists and legs, not giving a fuck about her pleas that it was too tight and hurting her; they were a long time over having any pity for her. 

„We can make it quick or painful, your choice," John spoke, trying to appear as the good cop in this interrogation. His heart wanted to rip her apart in the most inhuman way possible, but first, he needed some information.

„I don't want to die, please. I only meant good." Simon didn't hesitate to slap her right across the face.

„Don't lie.“

„I didn't lie; you would be better off without her.“

„Bad mistake, Ghost doesn’t like when someone talks badly about our girl,“ John huffed, taking a drag on his cigar while sitting on a chair.

„What do you think, boss, should I cut a finger off or break her arm?“ She was panting heavily, the sweat already dripping down her neckline, while she only stared in horror at them. She begged and pleaded, but how many of her victims did it too? How many were even able to remember a thing?

„No, no Ghost we play nice just like her,“ John said with a grin, pulling out three pills from his pocket. Thankfully, the nurses on base didn't have a good opinion of the medic.

Ghost took the pills, putting them in front of her eyes. "Choose. "

„What are these?“ She knew, but her mind didn't want to comprehend what they wanted from her.

„I think the same one you used on me, the other is used for assisted death, and the third one I forgot something with internal bleeding.“ 

„They look the same.“ 

„Choose or I will make you choose." Before the medic argued, Ghost already had all three pills in his hand, pushing them into her mouth.

„I choose this one,“ her eyes watering as she pointed to the left pill. If she were, by any chance, smarter, she would have known she wouldn’t come out alive.

With trembling fingers, she pushed it down her throat. As she felt the numbness starting in her fingers, she couldn’t stop smiling. She made the right choice. 

„They were all the same,“ John replied unapologetically. He didn't want to do this too messy; he only wanted the needed information and then would break her neck; he deserved the right after all. 

„You bastard“ This earned another punch from Simon.

"Let's see how you like being paralyzed. Did you enjoy seeing your victims squirm in fear?“

„Please don't“

„Oh, afraid I'll rape you.“

„Don't worry, Ghost wouldn’t even rape you out of spite.“

„You're so pathetic. Do you need to drug people to get a lay? I bet you're already wet thinking about me touching you. Will only touch my girl.“

„We need to know with how many people you did that stunt?“

„Only you and Johnny, I swear.“

„You swear?“ John stood up, took his cigar, and flicked it close between her thighs, seeing how the heat burned her thighs closer to her core. “It isn't fun to be so helpless? Now tell me the truth.“

She cried and still denied the truth of the sick games she pulled over all these years: „Guess you didn't want the nice way, my turn cap." Ghost grumbled pulling out his favorite knife, a beautiful gift from you. He cherished dearly and he thought you should have had the right to partake in her downfall after all.

The burn of the cigar was long forgotten when Simon slowly craved letter after letter in her skin, taking slow movements as if he were performing in a calligraphy contest. Letter for letter, the red blood dried down on Simon's pale skin, the screams were like music in his ears. He finally had what he wanted: Revenge. He dreamt of it when he saw his father abusing his mother when he met Roba when he heard your past story, and now he finally got it. He could finally protect his loved ones.

„Beautiful, isn’t it, Cap?“

"You could improve your handwriting the letters are slacking a bit.“ 

„You're right, Captain, need to write a few rows more." After the fifth letter, she finally confessed.

„How many“

„I have a list on my phone,“ she cried while Ghost pulled out the phone, finding the list with her guidance. Ghost saw a lot of cruel things in his life, but the visuals on the list made him almost puke: several videos of abused unconscious men and women, their names, and the date all written under them—disgusting. When he saw the picture of Johnny, it was enough for him, and he snapped her neck.

„I'm sorry, Captain.“

„I would have done it if you weren’t faster.“

„What will we do about this?“

„The right thing.“

———————————————————————————— 1 year later

Johnny found peace after consulting a therapist for a year straight, with the support of his beautiful girlfriend and boyfriends. John and Ghost took the list and spoke with all the remaining victims, taking her life insurance money and splitting it amongst the victims. It was nothing that could redeem the situation. Still, they did everything so every one of her victims could afford and participate in the needed therapy, even spreading awareness of male SA survivors in the military with Laswell's help. Your relationship surprisingly grew stronger after the incident, and the bond and trust were only tighter. So here, where you cuddled in a big cuddle pile with your men and Winston, you were finally at peace again.

Taglist: @cod-z , @kaoyamamegami, @postmortem-angel, @jackrabbitem , @sseleniaa , @thigh-o-saur , @littlechomper @ab12305 @darkangel4121

@thychuvaluswife @cutiecusp @blackhawkfanatic @spicyspicyliving @octopiys

A/N: wrote this half asleep so sorry for spelling and grammar mistakes Im not the best at writing torture Im more of an angst girly hope you still enjoyed it.

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

A/N 2: Don't read further if you don't want to know anything about the author

So sorry that I posted this Chapter 1 month after the last, my last month was kinda weird. Had a theoretical final exam(passed with an A and an B) , lots of interviews- but hey I got one thing (not my dream thingy but still good), had lots of stress at work and unregular plans like one day night the next early :( So it took a lot of motivation to finally finish this and get back into writing regularly.

[finkinthisfrew]

TEACHER'S PET (Pt.5)

cw: 18+, teacher/student, teasing, taunting, daddy, praise kink, other stuff, v inappropriate :)

You follow Professor Healy up to his office, hands shaking in anticipation, unsure of what to expect next.

“Sit,” he commands as he steps through the door. You enter the room, obediently walking over to the chair facing his desk. 

“No,” he says authoritatively as you move to sit, causing you to freeze where you stand. “Edge of the desk. Facing the window.”

Confused, but too anxious to question him, you step behind his desk, hopping up on its edge as you hear the door close shut behind you. Another click- the lock. You sit quietly, heart pounding, eyes glued to your Professors chair, oblivious to the wall of colorful leaves behind it, branches dancing in powerful fall winds as you listen to the sound of his footsteps approaching.

“Miss Thompson,” he starts quietly, though the authority in his voice is unwavering as he continues. “You seem to think indecency on an Ivy League campus is not only appropriate, but worth flaunting,” he says as he steps into your view, eyes looking down at his busied hands. His fingers work at the cuffs of his dress shirt, then he rolls his sleeves up meticulously, exposing his veiny tattooed forearms one at a time. You raise your eyebrows at him, tilting your nose up snootily as you open your mouth to protest.

“”Well maybe if y-“ you start hotly, but he cuts you off immediately, disinterested in whatever you have to say.

“That wasn’t a question- it was a statement. And if you could spend more than two seconds listening to me instead of thinking about my cock all day long then maybe you would realize that, wouldn’t you agree, Miss Thompson?” He asks, towering over you with eyes so dark they look nearly black as he steps towards you.

“W-well, I,” you stutter, cheeks flushing, but he continues like you haven’t spoken as he bends down towards you, placing his hands on either side of you on the desk.

“You spend class after class sitting there in your absurdly tiny skirts, biting your little lip until it’s raw and squeezing your thighs together like I won’t notice, desperate to appease me when called upon in class… yet the moment class is done, you become a tyrant. A good student should always be good- not just when she chooses to be…” he says, his tone displeased as his eyes bear down on you. You desperately want to please him, reaching your hand out to take his tie, dangling before you like bait.

“I want to be good for you,” you say quietly, gripping his tie with both hands and pulling on it gently- pleading as you look up into his dark eyes. “Let me be good for you.” You tug, tilting your lips up towards his, searching for approval. 

He looks down at you thoughtfully, mulling something over in his mind as his eyes wander your face. Abruptly, he brushes your hands off his tie, turns, and sits down in his chair, crossing his arms as his eyes travel slowly, greedily up your body, finally piercing through your soul once more before speaking.

“Show me your homework,” he commands.

“What?” You ask, caught off guard.

“You heard me,” he says, his voice low, thick like molasses. “I’d like to grade your work,” he says darkly, face dripping with lust as his eyes wander down your chest to your skirt, making you squeeze your legs together without realizing. 

“Spread.”

You spread your already slick legs automatically, the sight of your Professor sitting back in his chair lazily as he watches you spread your legs only exciting you more.

“Ah-ah-“ he tuts, lifting his chin as he watches. “Wider… That’s it,” he says approvingly as you spread your legs as far as you can, exposing yourself entirely to him. “Good girl,” he says, mouth remaining slightly open, slack as he watches your juices drip onto his desk where he was to grade papers later that night.

A moan slips from your lips, his praise sending a shiver of pleasure through your core. 

“How do you already look so fucked out?” He says quietly to himself in disbelief. “I’m not even touching you and you’re already moaning,” he says, a smug smile teasing his lips. You nod innocently at him as you run your fingers up the inside of your thigh.

“I like pleasing you,” you said softly as your fingers meet your wetness. You slowly drag them up your dripping slit, making your stomach quake with pleasure. Your finger finds your clit and you begin to rub tight circles into it, moaning a bit louder this time as he watches your fingers intently, eyes flitting back up to yours periodically as you work.

“A little slower- there you go,” he directs you. You slow your speed, whimpering as you scan his face, the memory of his lip in your mouth screaming at you, demanding to be relived once more. But you want to be obedient- you want nothing more than to please him. Heat builds inside you as you watch the corner of your Professors mouth twitch up a your whimpers. The coil inside you tightens more than usual, much deeper than it has before, but it’s still not enough, so you pout in frustration. 

He stands up slowly, his eyes penetrating yours as he cocks his head to one side, taking a step towards you as he slips his hands in his pockets.

“Does it feel like it’s not enough?” He taunts with a small smile. You nod your head rapidly as you watch him approach you.

“It’s never enough,” you whisper, your eyebrows creasing in pained frustration.

“How many times have you tried? Enough?” He asks, his tone dripping with lust as he takes another step. He’s now standing between your open legs, looking down at your hand, then back up into your eyes, his pupils dilated with desire. You nod your head, pushing your lower lip out even further as your frustration builds.

He shakes his still cocked head faintly in disappointment as he slips one hand from his pocket, reaching it up to your face

“Words, Miss Thompson,” he breathes as he looks down at you, taking your chin delicately in his hand. His thumb caresses your bottom lip and you whine at his touch, watching the corners of his mouth turn into a greedy smile through your hazy eyes.

“Too many,” you pant quietly, but your answer isn’t enough for Professor Healy, who gives you another warning look as his hand sharply tips your head up to him. “Every day after class. Every night before bed. Every morning when I wake up. Sometimes even between classes,” you list between moans, panting as you speak.

“And what do you think about?” He asks, dropping his hand from your face to your lap, trailing a single finger down the top of your thigh towards your knee. The rough finger against your hyper-sensitive skin sends a wave of electricity through you, causing another breathy whine to escape your lips.

“You,” you breathe as you close your eyes and slip two fingers inside yourself. You groan at the feeling, a new pleasure blooming within you. But the sensation is too dull- your fingers too small, too gentle to satisfy your need for fullness. It’s not enough. You push them in anyways, fumbling somewhat rhythmically- desperate to relieve that burning need for release.

“Well, naturally,” your Professor agrees in a pleased tone. “And you’ve been doing this every day, multiple times a day, and you’re still not satisfied?” He asks in both curiosity and awe. You open your eyes halfway as you press the heel of your palm into your clit.

“No, it never feels right,” you groan in frustration at the feeling. “I need your help,” you whine. “I need you, Professor.”

“Ahhh,” he says in understanding, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reaches his hand up to your breast, cupping it just barely as he swipes your hardened nipple through the thin material of your shirt with his thumb, making you gasp at the shock of pleasure. He cocks his head to one side, enthralled by your physical reaction to his touch. You look up at him with renewed fire in your eyes, and he lowers his other hand to your thigh, trailing it slowly back up your bare skin as his eyes pierce through you. “You need some tutoring,” he breathes darkly as he pushes your hand away, replacing it with his own. You gasp at his touch, missing the shudder of pleasure that rolls through your Professor’s body at your erotic moans.

His fingers find your clit first and you groan- loudly- gripping the table with fingers like vices. His calloused thumb rubs wave after wave of pleasure into your clit as you mewl, watching his expert thumb work. His fingers are much longer, much thicker, and much rougher than yours. You want them inside you now.

“Fuck,” you whine, chest heaving as he picks up his speed on your clit.

“Are you taking notes?” He rasps, his own breath growing ragged as his other hand slips up the hem of your shirt, his weathered skin leaving tingles in its wake as it travels back up to your breast, cupping the warm, soft mound of skin.

“More,” you complain in a low whine. “I need you- to fill me,” you say as you bite back another moan. You reach your hand out to his buckle, pulling him closer to you and begin to fumble at the clasp. Suddenly his hand leaves your clit, gently gripping your wrist as he tuts once more. You whimper.

“I’m not done, yet, darling,” he coos as he leans into your ear. “I have to check your work first.” You groan as you feel his hand between your legs once more, his fingers toying lightly at your entrance, teasing you as your hips reach out desperately for more. You feel his other hand trail lightly round your neck, his thumb lingering on your throat for a moments before reaching around, taking a handful of your hair in his grip. He pulls, tilting your head back as he dips a single finger into you, no more than an inch. You groan and whine as you try to push your hips forward, but he keeps his finger just out of reach. 

“Look at you, writhing around all desperate for me,” he says, voice gravelly in your ear. “So eager… Do you want more, baby?”

“Yesss,” you plead, turning your head in his grasp to place your lips on the closest part of him to you- reaching desperately for his jaw, thirsting for a taste of him. 

“Of course you do,” he says as he lets you nip at his jaw, smiling as he withdraws his finger, slowly replacing it with two as he pushes them in a bit further, stretching you wide. You throw your hands around his neck, anchoring yourself in the sea of pleasure, waves of ecstasy crashing around you as you dig your nails into your Professors skin. 

“My best student,” he praises, placing a gentle kiss on your temple as you whine loudly in his ear. He pushes his fingers in the rest of the way, all the way up to his knuckles. His two fingers are thicker than three of yours, their roughness only adding to the whirlwind of pleasure building within you as he begins to pump his fingers at an agonizingly slow pace, every stroke against your G-spot earning a moan from you.

“Is this what you needed? To be filled up a bit?” He taunts you sweetly. “All those performances and tantrums you threw for me, and all you needed was for me to fill you a little?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe, the word slipping from you naturally before you can catch yourself. Your heart stops as you feel his fingers pause.

“Ohhh, I see,” he says with a smile, lifting his face to look down on you. His fingers resume fucking you, picking up speed, just barely, making you mewl frantically. “Had I known every time you said Professor you meant daddy…” his voice trails off as he looks down at his fingers. You watch him lick his lip, then bite it slightly as he watches in devilish fascination as your hips buck uncontrollably against his hand. “Very good girl,” he says, almost to himself. You groan in pleasure, his praise like its own toy, sending a shiver of satisfaction up your spine, escaping your lips with a shudder.

“Do you want my cock, baby? Is that what you need? Not full enough?” He coos sweetly.

“Yes- fuck, yes,” you reply exasperatedly.

“Yes, what?” He says, raising his eyebrows at you expectantly. You groan through clenched teeth, his mutual need for the word sexier than you ever could’ve imagined.

“Yes, daddy,” you whimper as he smiles, pumping his fingers even faster inside of you, a burning ball of pleasure building steadily in your core. “I need you to,” you add in a choke as you watch the vein in his forearm strain against his skin as his fingers curl, every stroke pushing you closer.

“Well I have some unfortunate news for you,” he whispers in your ear. “You see, you’ve been very bad,” he growls, lips grazing the skin of your neck, teasing you with their touch. “Traipsing around campus in this little getup, flaunting your ass to everyone like it doesn’t belong to me.”

You can’t help but groan at his possessive words- all you’ve wanted was to be his.

“Trying to tease me- trying to tempt me,” he continues, pressing his thumb harder into your clit, making you cry out in pleasure. “You’ve been a very bad girl, Hazel… And bad girls don’t get the privilege of being filled and fucked till they scream,” he taunts as you whimper in frustration. “They don’t get to be pounded till they can’t walk anymore- till they can’t think anymore,” he says, nipping your burning skin at the base of your neck between his words. “You haven’t earned that privilege, Miss Thompson,” he said, his mouth finally planting itself above your collarbone, warm tongue swirling against your skin before harshly sucking on it, making you moan loudly in euphoria. 

“How do I earn it?” You beg desperately through panting breath.

“Ohoho, my darling…” you hear him chuckle below you, his face lifting up to look at you with a devilish smile. His mouth hovers above yours as he looks up at you with wide blackened eyes in pity, warm breath taunting you as it washes over your tender lips- bitten raw from countless bitten back screams. “Did you fuck yourself one too many times for me this weekend?” He asks in a mocking tone as he pouts. “You’ve already forgotten what I said? Too cock-drunk for daddy to remember what he told you?” He pushes you down to your elbows, then grinds his hips into yours, his fingers pulsing rapidly within you. He presses his forehead into yours, nostrils flaring, pupils blown-out as he growls into you, “You’re not going to touch my cock- you’re not going to feel my cock- you’re not even going to so much as see my cock for the next four years. I hope that little grab you tried earlier in my trousers will be enough to tide you over until graduation, because you’re going to spend the rest of your Masters Degree replaying it- replaying this- the time you came so close to getting fucked by your Professor- night after night all alone in your bed, until you it drives you mad. I’ll be surprised if you don’t start touching yourself in classes after this… you’ll spend the next four years crawling at the thought of getting to feel my cock inside of you. That’s a decent enough punishment, don’t you agree?” He says menacingly, your clit burning with pleasure under his thumb as he coaxes your orgasm closer.

You shake your head furiously, your need to be fucked by him clouding your mind in such a thick haze of lust you can’t seem to think straight as you ride the high of pleasure.

“No? You don’t agree?” He asks threateningly. Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you whimpering, shaking against him, the overwhelming emptiness leaving you feeling deranged. You nod desperately- anything to get his fingers back inside you.

“That’s my smart girl,” he coos sweetly. You feel his fingers pushing back inside you, the relief almost sending tears to your eyes as your elbows give out. Your Professor catches you with his other hand, holding you up as he pumps his fingers faster. “That’s my smart girl. Yes baby, you’re right,” he says as he kisses your forehead tenderly. “You earned your punishment and you’re taking it so well for daddy.”

He places slow gentle kisses on your face, your voice emitting an endless stream of moans and whining, teetering so closely to the edge of your climax, you don’t think you could remember your name if he asked you.

“Shhh, you don’t need to worry about that now. Right now you need to come for daddy. Can you do that for me baby girl? That’s it, you sound so beautiful when you scream, my angel. Moan for me just like that, there you go,” he says as you buck your hips uncontrollably against his relentless fingers, unravelling in his grasp. “Do you need daddy to fuck you a little harder with his fingers? Is that it? Such a needy girl…” he taunts with a smile, your climax only seconds away as the pleasure begins to overflow inside of you. “Are you ready to cum for daddy? Yes? Yes, I think so too, baby. Be a good girl and cum for me. All over my fingers. Ah- that’s it. Good girl, just like that. Perfect… My perfect girl…” he mutters the last few words into your skin as your orgasm bursts through your core, spreading through your body to your fingertips and toes, electric waves of pleasure splintering you from within as you scream. You shudder in his grip, legs shaking against his hips as your eyes roll back into your head. Pleasure explodes and pulses within you as his fingers slow with the settling of your body, leaving you limp in the strong grasp of his arm. The pleasure envelops you, slowly bringing you back to consciousness as you catch your breath from the release, relief flooding your body after weeks of aching. You eventually open your eyes only to find your Professor looking down at his hand, still between your legs.

“Look at this pretty little mess you made for me,” he says, tilting his head as admires the juices coating his dripping hand. He moves his fingers around inside you curiously, pulling them in and out as he plays with your wetness, periodically looking up to watch you as you jerk and jolt at his movements, too sensitive to be played with after such a strong climax, but too drained to stop him. 

“Feel that? Do you feel my fingers inside you?” He asks you softly. You shiver as he cradles you closer to him, his fingers still toying with you, then manage to nod your head twice. “Memorize that. Because you’re not going to feel them for a very. Long. Time.”

You can’t help the whimpers that escape your lips as he withdraws his fingers. He looks down at you with an indecipherable look as his eyes travel over your face. Then, he leans down, placing a single gentle kiss on your lips, his mouth moving carefully and purposefully as a new kind of flutter awakens in your core. When your lips finally part, you watch as he steps away, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the juices from his hand.

“You’re forgiven for your behavior,” he starts quietly, wiping each finger meticulously. “But if you try to tempt me like that again, I promise the next punishment won’t be nearly as pleasant for you,” he says without looking at you. “You’re dismissed.”

You stand up in a daze, furrowing your brow in confusion as you walk towards the door obediently, too fucked-out to do much more than simply follow his command. You open the door, glancing back at your teacher once more, his back now facing you as he looks out the window of his office before you leave, closing the door behind you. You lean against it, the click of the lock a minute later causing you to flinch. You rest your head back against the glass window of the door, catching your breath as you play through what just happened, the wet mess between your legs becoming more noticeable outside the steamy haze of the office.

It didn’t make sense. Why didn’t he fuck you? Did he not want to? That wouldn’t make sense. He didn’t have to touch you, and yet he went out of his way to make you cum anyways? Eagerly cooing every sweet nothing you could have possibly wanted into your ear when he could have just sent you home…  That only made the mystery of him not fucking you even more confusing. He had every opportunity to fuck you just now, and yet he didn’t even so much as stroke himself. Maybe your sexual desire wasn’t as mutual as you’d thought it was… 

A sudden sound shakes you from your spiral. You scan the empty hall, waiting for the sound to repeat itself in the hopes of identifying it. You stand there quietly, ears perked. You hear it again, realizing the sound was coming from behind you.

A whimper.

You turn, then reach as high as you can on your tiptoes to the tiny sliver of glass that hadn’t been covered in newspaper.

Just barely, you see him. The two fingers that had just been inside you, the same one’s he’d just cleaned in front of you now in his mouth, his eyes closed as he sucks on them. You can’t see his other hand, hidden behind the desk, but you slowly piece together what he’s doing, the rapid rhythmic movement in his lap paired with his soft whimpers finally clicking in your mind. You catch yourself as your hand drifts back down between your legs, clenching it into a tight fist before you could do anything crazy. You can’t get caught out here- another teacher could walk by at any moment and see you straining on your toes to spy on your teacher in his private quarters. No, this you’d have to enjoy later. You let yourself watch him pump himself a another minute longer, taking extra care to memorize every whimper before promptly running down the hall, desperate to get home so you could replay the look on his face when he caught his bottom lip with his teeth and chewed it, hair bouncing with the speed of his hand before looking down with a pained expression at the small crumpled pile of black lace on his desk…