#check-pattern blazer

[freshthoughts2020]

[sabsclusive]

SOLD OUT ON SUNDAYS𓂃۶ৎ ─── ❛❛ 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻 : 𝟏𝟐𝑲? ❞ . WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT/SMUT, STRONG LANGUAGE, SUB!MATT, DOM!MATT, DOM!READER, DOM!MATT, JEALOUS/POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, ARGUMENTS, EMOTIONAL TENSION !!

The store smells like dust and vinyl. Like that old-lady perfume you can’t name but know by heart, and rain-soaked cardboard boxes stacked by the front. The radio in the back’s playing some crusty old jazz station — something with too many horns — and the fluorescent light above the counter is flickering like it’s got beef with the ceiling. Matt doesn’t even notice anymore.

He’s behind the register, headphones halfway in, hoodie up, looking half-dead. He’s got one AirPod in and the other tucked into his hoodie pocket, and even though nobody’s shopped in twenty minutes, he’s still thumbing through the rack of CDs like there’s treasure hidden in between the cracked Jewel cases.

Until the doorbell rings.

Ding.

He doesn’t have to look up. He already knows it’s you.

The girl who only shows up on Sundays. The one who wears the same pair of Air Force 1s like they’re armor. The one who never talks except to mumble “thanks,” iced coffee in one hand and something oversized slung over your shoulder — always. You shop like it’s a mission. Like you’re here to save the ugly clothes nobody else wants. Matt doesn’t get it, but… he also kind of does.

You walk in with your headphones on, no eye contact, no smile. Just straight to the racks like clockwork. Sundays mean chaos for everybody else — brunch, church, errands — but for you? It’s thrift therapy.

And Matt?

Well. Matt watches.

Not in a creepy way. He just notices.

You always go for the skirts first. Then the oversized blazers. Then the bin with the ugly sweaters, like you dare them to be cute. He’s seen you hold up a lime green mohair cardigan like it was the hottest thing in the store — and then actually make it hot a week later when you wore it in here cropped, cinched, and stitched with rhinestones on the collar.

It’s annoying. It’s impressive. It’s kind of hot.

Not that he’d say that.

Matt watches you flip through hangers like you’re flipping pages of a book. Sometimes he tries to guess what you’ll pick. He’s almost always wrong. You like things with ugly patterns and weird buttons. You like jackets that don’t match your shoes and pants that don’t match your bag. But somehow, it works. And somehow, you don’t care if anybody else gets it.

He does, though. Lowkey.

You’ve been coming in every Sunday for two months now, and you still haven’t said more than five words to him. But Matt remembers every outfit. Every bag. The time you wore two skirts layered on top of each other and made it fashion? Yeah. He still thinks about that.

“Yo,” he says casually when you finally head toward the counter, two skirts in your hand and a blazer that smells like mothballs slung over your arm.

You blink. Slide your headphones down.

“Huh?”

He nods toward the items. “You know it’s half off jackets today, right?”

You pause. “Even this one?”

Matt glances at the tag. “Yeah. That’s technically a jacket. Even if it looks like it got pulled out of somebody’s uncle’s closet.”

You snort. “That’s kind of the point.”

Matt smirks.

You pull your phone out to check your student discount — and freeze. Then curse under your breath.

“No way,” you mutter. “I left my ID. Again.”

Matt leans forward on the counter. “Second time this month.”

You look up at him, annoyed — more at yourself than him, but still. “You memorize that or something?”

He shrugs. “You’re memorable.”

Oh.

Not him saying that all casual like he didn’t just make your stomach do a full cartwheel.

You roll your eyes to hide the smile threatening to creep up. “Whatever.”

You go to set the clothes down, but Matt leans in a little closer. “You could leave it on hold ‘til next week. Or, I could just act like you showed me the ID and give you the discount anyway.”

You blink.

“…You’d do that?”

He shrugs again. “I don’t snitch.”

You purse your lips, then nod once. “Cool.”

He starts ringing you up, slow and careful. You fidget with your sleeves, feeling the tension creep up your neck. There’s something weird about the air between you two today — like it’s… warmer. Or maybe that’s just him watching you a little longer than usual.

You glance up. “You work Sundays every week?”

He looks surprised you asked. “Yeah. Only day I don’t have class.”

“Oh. You go to school?”

“Community college. Art program.” He clears his throat, like he wasn’t planning to say that. “Trying to transfer next year.”

You blink again. “What kind of art?”

He pauses.

“Stuff you’d probably call weird.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I literally turned a doily into a corset. Try me.”

He smiles at that. For real this time.

The door creaks, and you both glance toward it. It’s started raining outside — pouring. Like full downpour, windshield-wiper-on-high type rain. You groan, pulling your hoodie over your head.

Matt hesitates, then reaches under the counter and pulls out a folded-up thrifted umbrella.

“Keep it,” he says, holding it out like it’s no big deal. “Some lady left it in the dressing room last week.”

You squint at him. “You sure?”

He shrugs. “You’ll bring it back next Sunday.”

Oh.

So he really do pay attention.

You take the umbrella and look back at him. “Thanks.”

He nods. “See you next week.”

You pause at the door. Glance over your shoulder.

Then smile — just a little.

“Yeah,” you say. “See you.”

And then you’re gone, out into the rain, headphones back in, umbrella open. Matt watches the door swing closed behind you and presses play on his playlist. The jazz is still playing overhead. The CD rack still dusty. But yeah — the store feels different now.

Sundays used to feel like the slowest day of the week.

Now? They feel like something might actually happen.

The thing is, you weren’t even planning to try anything on.

You came in for one thing: that red tartan pencil skirt you saw on the mannequin last week. You had plans for it — split the hem, add grommets, maybe a lace-up moment in the back if you were feeling dramatic. It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out. Headphones in. Hoodie up. Zero eye contact. That was the system. That was what kept you sane every Sunday.

But the skirt was gone.

“What happened to the plaid?” you asked, pulling out one earbud, squinting across the racks like it might materialize if you looked hard enough.

Matt — that boy with the messy curls and the stare that was too intense to be polite — blinked at you from behind the counter. Like he was surprised you spoke. Like he hadn’t rung you up fifteen times already.

“Oh. Uh.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Sold it.”

You blinked. “To who?”

He shrugged. “Some girl. Yesterday.”

You blinked again. “And you let her?”

Matt tilted his head like that was a weird thing to say. “It’s a store,” he said slowly. “People buy stuff.”

You just stood there, betrayed. Your hand gripped the edge of a mismatched rack like it personally offended you. The silence stretched. Your iced coffee was sweating in your hand. You sighed, real dramatic, then wandered back toward the ‘Bottoms’ section.

Fine. If the tartan skirt was dead, you’d find something better. Hotter. Petty revenge by outfit.

You flipped past rows of corduroy, plaid, denim, sequins, and neon nightmare spandex until your fingers landed on it: a black leather micro mini. Mid-rise. Slight stretch. Gold stitching that caught the light like it was flirting with you. It had absolutely no business in a dusty little shop like this. Naturally, you snatched it.

The fitting rooms were tiny — more like prison cells with mirrors — but you squeezed inside anyway, peeling off your cargo pants with one hand and pulling the skirt on with the other. It hit mid-thigh. High-mid-thigh. You tugged it down. It tugged back. Rude.

Still, when you turned to the side, it was kind of… perfect?

You stepped out to check the mirror by the shoes, adjusting the waistband. You weren’t even thinking. Just doing that dumb thing where you admire the fit and make little mental notes like crop top, gold hoops, statement boot. You twisted to check the back.

That’s when you felt it.

Eyes.

You glanced up.

Matt was watching you from behind the register.

Not in a pervy way. Not in a creep behind the dressing room curtain way. But in a he forgot how to blink kind of way.

You blinked. He blinked back. Then looked away fast, cheeks blooming pink like somebody set a match to them.

You froze. Your heart did this stupid stutter, and you said the most intelligent thing possible:

“…You good?”

He coughed. “Yeah. Sorry. I wasn’t— I didn’t mean to—”

“I mean,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Do you like the skirt or…?”

Matt looked mortified. “It’s cool,” he mumbled.

You waited. He looked like he was fighting a demon.

“It’s…you wear it well.”

You snorted. “That’s so grandpa-coded.”

Matt half-smiled, still red. “It was either that or ‘slay,’ and I felt like that’d be worse.”

You turned back to the mirror, heart hammering in your ears like a kick drum. He said you wore it well. You wore it well. You didn’t even know Matt talked that much.

You looked back at him one more time, just to see if he was still staring.

He wasn’t.

But he was smiling.

The skirt went in the bag.

You didn’t even flinch at the $12 tag. You just handed Matt a crumpled twenty and said, “No receipt,” like you were buying something way less scandalous. He didn’t say anything either. Just rang you up like normal. Only his hands were a little shaky, and he gave you a paper bag instead of plastic, which he never did.

You walked out that Sunday in your cargos again, the skirt rolled up in the bag, but it felt different now. The air. The weight of the door swinging shut behind you. Like the rhythm of your Sundays — same iced coffee, same entrance, same rack to the left of the fake potted fern — was off. In a good way. Like a song you’ve played a hundred times just hit different one day.

By next week, he’d put a disco ball on the counter.

You weren’t sure why it caught you so off guard. It was a tiny thing — probably from the kids’ section — but it was spinning. Slowly. And Matt was just standing behind it like he hadn’t added a whole party prop to the register area.

“Okay, Studio 54,” you said, raising a brow.

He glanced up from pricing cassette tapes. “Huh?”

You pointed at the disco ball.

“Oh.” His eyes widened like he forgot it was there. “You like it?”

You squinted. “I’m deciding.”

Matt nodded, serious. “Let me know. We value feedback here at Dusty Depot.”

You snorted. “That better not be the actual name.”

He shrugged. “It is now.”

You bit your lip so you wouldn’t smile, but he caught it anyway. His mouth twitched.

You moved to the rack, same as always, but now there was this… extra hum in the air. Like both of you knew something changed. You didn’t know what it was yet, but it was sitting in the air between you — right next to the disco ball.

You were flipping through old concert tees when you heard him again.

“You have good taste.”

You glanced up. “Obviously.”

Matt looked mildly impressed. “Okay.”

“What?” you grinned.

“Nothing,” he said, trying not to smile. “I just think you’re funny or whatever.”

That “or whatever” hung in the air for too long.

“Wow. High praise from a guy who shelves porcelain dolls for a living.”

“They’re vintage,” he said, deadpan.

“And terrifying.”

He shrugged. “It’s camp.”

You cracked up. That was the first time he made you laugh out loud, like actually laugh. Not the polite kind, either. A real, scrunched-nose, unfiltered cackle that made you step back and cover your face.

“Stop,” you wheezed, shaking your head. “You’re gonna make me buy something cursed.”

Matt tilted his head. “You already did. That mini skirt had beef.”

You stared at him.

He blinked. “I mean—it was like, spicy. Not spicy spicy, just… like… fashionably rude.”

You burst out laughing again. “Fashionably rude is wild.”

He shrugged. “I call it like I see it.”

And just like that, your Sundays weren’t the same anymore.

You weren’t supposed to be back there.

Not technically. Not unless you worked there. But there you were, standing next to the register, peeking at the stickers he’d slapped across the cash drawer and the messy handwriting on his price tags. The air smelled like old records, plastic hangers, and a little bit of boy. Which is to say… like sandalwood deodorant and soda someone forgot to throw away.

“You really don’t got a back room?” you asked, squinting.

Matt shook his head, crouched under the counter digging through a bin of misplaced earrings. “We got the closet. That’s where we keep the weird mannequins and taxidermy nobody wants.”

“That’s sick.”

“You’d like it.”

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Wow. I’m flattered.”

He smirked, eyes still down. “You give cursed energy. In a good way.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t say anything. Mostly because your heart was acting like it had never been around a boy before. He was right there — right next to you — knees grazing yours every time he shifted. And you were wearing one of your Sunday specials: a denim maxi skirt turned mini with safety pins up the side, paired with a mesh tee over a thrifted baby tank. You looked good. And Matt? He noticed.

He just didn’t say anything.

He never said anything. Not direct. But he looked. You weren’t imagining that.

“So what—” you started, to distract yourself, “—do you just stand back here looking mysterious all day?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes I price records. Sometimes I clean. Sometimes I pretend to clean.”

You nodded. “And sometimes you flirt badly.”

He froze.

Then stood up way too fast, hitting his head on the counter. “Ow.”

You blinked. “Oh my God.”

“I’m good,” he winced, rubbing the back of his head.

You squinted at him. “Sure. Real smooth.”

Matt laughed under his breath, still pink in the face. “Didn’t say I was good at flirting.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t,” you said, turning so he wouldn’t see you smiling.

Silence settled in again — warm and thick and slow, like honey.

You peeked down at the register. “Wait… are those Pokémon stickers?”

Matt turned redder. “…No.”

You pointed. “Is that Pikachu with a grill?”

“Okay, yes. But ironically.”

You cracked up. “Yeah, okay, cashier of the year.”

He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, a little shy, a little smug.

And then — like it wasn’t a big deal at all — he asked:

“You wanna price stuff with me?”

Your brows raised. “Like, actually?”

He nodded. “I trust your taste.”

You tried to play it cool. “So I can abuse power and price cute stuff lower?”

Matt smirked. “I plead the fifth.”

You bit your lip. “Bet.”

And just like that, you were in. Behind the counter. Sitting on a crooked stool next to a boy who thought you were funny, stylish, and maybe a little cursed in the best way.

That Sunday lasted three hours.

Neither of you even noticed.

It started with the yellow sunglasses.

You didn’t even plan the fit like that — it was lazy. Tube top, patchwork jeans, cardigan falling off your shoulder, and those crooked yellow lenses you’d found in a $1 bin the first Sunday you ever came in. You tossed them on your head and walked in sipping a strawberry matcha like you weren’t thinking about Matt all morning.

But you were.

A little.

Okay, a lot.

He was behind the counter like usual, hoodie half on, curls messier than last time, writing something in a tiny notebook. He didn’t look up right away. He always looked up when you walked in — and this time, he didn’t.

You hovered by the scarves a little longer than necessary.

Finally, he looked up.

Then looked again.

And stayed.

You caught it.

It wasn’t the “oh, she’s here again” look. Or the “let me not be weird” look. It was the lingering kind. The kind where someone’s eyes trail down — from your lips to your neck to the gold chain resting on your collarbone — then flick up real fast when they realize they’re being too obvious.

You blinked. “You good?”

Matt jumped slightly, eyes wide. “Huh? Yeah. Sorry. Just spaced.”

“Mmhm.”

You walked over slow, dragging your fingers across a row of vintage windbreakers like you weren’t clocking the way his gaze stuck to your hands.

“I’m saying,” you added, “if you’re gonna stare, at least be sneaky about it.”

Matt flushed. “I wasn’t— I mean— I’m not—”

You tilted your head. “You weren’t staring?”

He cleared his throat. “Not in a weird way.”

You held back a smirk. “Cool. So it’s the normal kind of staring.”

Matt turned bright red and ducked back behind the register like it was a shield.

You laughed to yourself and walked off — not too fast — and pulled a floral mini from the rack just for drama. It had ruffles. He absolutely saw it. Later, while you were flipping through old cookbooks by the dusty stereo, he crept up next to you.

“I like your sunglasses.”

You turned to him, lifting the yellow shades off your head and sliding them onto your nose. “These?”

He nodded, soft. “They’re loud. In a good way.”

You blinked behind the lenses. “You always say stuff like that.”

“Like what?”

“Stuff that sounds like compliments, but you’re too shy to say it straight up.”

He laughed under his breath. “I said I liked ‘em.”

You studied him. “You like me, too?”

He looked stunned.

Then he smiled — not big, just enough.

“I plead the fifth,” he murmured.

And walked off.

You stood there, cheeks burning, pretending not to freeze.

Because that? That wasn’t nothing. You knew they closed at 6.

The sign said it.

Your phone told you.

Matt told you. Twice.

But when 6:07 rolled around and he still hadn’t kicked you out… you kept pretending to flip through a rack of ripped Levi’s like you couldn’t read time.

“You know we closed, right?” he said, leaning against the wall, arms folded.

You didn’t look up. “Oh nooo… for real? That’s crazy.”

He grinned. “You absolutely know what time it is.”

You shrugged. “Guess I just lost track.”

Matt squinted. “You always leave by now.”

“Maybe I’m evolving.”

He didn’t say anything for a second.

Then: “Maybe I don’t mind.”

That made you look up.

The store was dead quiet. Just the hum of the old AC and the faint sound of some soul record playing in the background — the kind that made the air feel warm. And Matt was right there, watching you. Not in a weird way. In a knowing way. Like he saw straight through your ‘I’m just shopping’ performance and didn’t mind one bit.

You laughed under your breath and set a jacket back on the hanger. “So what happens now? You gonna throw me out?”

He shook his head. “Nah.”

“Oh? You breaking store policy for me?”

He walked toward you slowly, every step louder than it should’ve been on that squeaky tile floor.

“I don’t think you’re just here for the clothes,” he said.

Your breath caught. “Oh?”

He stopped in front of you — not too close, but close enough that you could smell the cedar in his hoodie. Close enough to see the little scar under his chin and the freckle on his cheek.

“And if I am?” you asked.

Matt looked down at you, quiet. That stare again — soft, heavy, not moving. The kind that makes your knees do something they shouldn’t.

“Then I’m glad,” he said.

You laughed, nervous. “You’re weird.”

He shrugged. “You’re still here.”

Your fingers grazed a hanger behind you, but you weren’t really looking at the clothes anymore. You were looking at him. Wondering what it meant that he didn’t flinch when you got this close. Wondering if he always looked at girls like this — or if it was just you.

Then — completely calm, like it was the most natural thing in the world — he said:

“You wanna hear the record I keep behind the counter?”

You blinked. “You hide records now?”

“Only the good ones.”

He held out a hand.

And you took it. Behind the counter, the store looked different. Quieter. Older. The overhead lights buzzed while he put the record on. It cracked a little at the start — then melted into this warm, jazzy loop. Saxophones. A bassline. Some smoky-voiced woman crooning about wanting something she’s not supposed to want.

You sat on the little stool while he leaned on the register next to you, saying nothing.

Just listening.

Your knees touched.

Neither of you moved.

You didn’t leave until 7:43.

And even then, he held the door open slow. Like he didn’t want to watch you go.

It was dumb.

You barely touched him. Y’all didn’t even hug. But somehow your brain took that one long stare behind the register and ran with it like it was a full-blown music video. And now here you were — 3:02 in the morning, bonnet slightly crooked, laying flat on your back staring at the ceiling like Girl, be so serious right now.

Because why did you dream that he kissed you?

Why did your subconscious go full softboy indie romance on a boy who’s barely said more than eight sentences to you at a time?

And worse — why was it good?

You groaned into your pillow.

In the dream, you were back in the shop. But it was darker. Like dream-dim — warm string lights, a record spinning in slow motion. You were wearing something you would never wear in real life — some slinky little tank and a skirt that rode way too high.

He was behind the counter again. Looking at you like he knew something. Like he’d been knowing.

And then — no warning — he just stepped around the register, walked right up, and kissed you like he meant it. Hands low on your waist, mouth slow and sure, like it wasn’t the first time.

You woke up so mad.

You flopped back down and grabbed your phone.

Siri, why did my brain make up a whole fake moment with a boy who hasn’t even asked for my number?

Siri was useless.

You considered texting your group chat, but it was 3am. All they’d say was “you’re delulu” and “tell him.” As if it was that easy. As if you didn’t have a whole wall up made of sarcasm, thrifted boots, and an iced matcha addiction.

Still, you opened your notes app and typed:

Sunday.

Matt.

Dream.

Bonnet slipped off.

I hate it here.

You locked your phone and stared at the ceiling again.

You weren’t gonna act weird next time.

You weren’t gonna bring it up.

You were gonna be cool.

So cool.

It was a Sunday like any other. You walked into the thrift store, the familiar chime of the doorbell announcing your arrival. Matt was behind the counter, as usual, his head buried in a book. You made your way to the racks, pretending to browse while stealing glances at him.

After a while, you picked up a particularly hideous sweater and held it up. “Think this would look good on me?” you asked, a smirk playing on your lips.

Matt looked up, took one look at the sweater, and burst out laughing. Not the polite chuckle he usually gave, but a full, genuine laugh that lit up his face.

“Absolutely not,” he said, still laughing. “But I admire your confidence.”

You laughed too, the sound mingling with his. It was the first time you’d seen him so unguarded, and it made your heart flutter.

You spent the rest of the afternoon chatting, the conversation flowing easily. The tension between you was still there, but it was different now. Lighter. More playful.

“So what happens if I do buy the ugly sweater?” you asked, holding it up like it was high fashion.

Matt tilted his head, leaning on the counter. “I’d judge you.”

You smirked. “I can handle that.”

“I’d also say you owe me ten minutes behind the register to defend your choices.”

You blinked. “Ten minutes?”

He shrugged. “It’s serious business.”

The way he said it — that dry tone, the steady stare — made your stomach flip.

So you bought it.

Ten minutes later, you were behind the counter, standing way too close in a sweater that looked like a couch from 1973.

“This is deeply hideous,” you whispered.

Matt stood behind you. Too close. He smelled like laundry and cedar again.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But you make it look…” His voice trailed off.

You turned to face him.

That was a mistake.

You were way too close now — breathing each other in. Your back brushed the edge of the register. His hand was on the counter, knuckles brushing your waist like it wasn’t an accident.

His eyes dropped to your mouth.

“Say it,” you whispered.

He blinked, slow. “Say what?”

“Whatever you’re thinking.”

A beat passed.

Then, voice low:

“I’m thinking if I kissed you right now… you wouldn’t stop me.”

You didn’t move.

His hand slid off the counter — to your hip. Gripping. Testing.

You nodded once.

He leaned in.

The kiss was slow — mouth soft but full of intent. Like he’d been wanting to for weeks but refused to rush. His hand tightened at your waist, pulling you just a little closer. Your fingers curled into his hoodie. His tongue grazed yours — just once — and your knees damn near gave out.

Then he pulled back, barely.

His breath hit your mouth.

“You always stay this late?” he whispered.

You licked your lips. “Only when it’s worth it.”

You weren’t even looking for it.

You were behind the counter, killing time, sipping iced coffee and flipping through the sketchpad he left open like it wasn’t his entire brain on paper.

It was normal at first. Outlines of jackets. A couple sneaker silhouettes. Scribbled song lyrics in the margins. But then — dead in the middle of the book — you.

Back turned. Leaning forward. Coffee in hand, headphones on. Skirt barely covering anything. Down to the scuffed toe of your Doc and the chipped red nail polish on your thumb.

You stared at it for a long time.

“Matt,” you said, not even bothering to hide your tone.

He glanced over from the racks. “Yeah?”

You held it up. “You serious right now?”

One blink. Not a single flinch. “What?”

“This is me.”

“Damn,” he muttered dryly, walking over. “Caught.”

You tilted the book. “What, you just sit in the back drawing me like a project?”

He stood right in front of you now, voice low. “You been walking in here every Sunday in these little skirts, looking like that… and you’re surprised I noticed?”

You crossed your arms. “You didn’t say anything.”

He shrugged. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I’m Matt, I jack off to you like twice a week’?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Relax,” he added, smirking. “I only drew it. I got a very vivid imagination.”

You stared at him. He stared right back.

That heat from last week came crawling up your throat. But now it was laced with something else. Tension — yeah. But also confusion. Intrigue. Suspicion.

“Come here,” he said, already reaching.

You didn’t move, but he stepped into your space anyway. Hand on your hip. Grip way too firm. The sketchbook slid off the counter and hit the floor with a dull thud.

“You creepin’ me out right now,” you whispered, even though your breath hitched the second he touched you.

“I haven’t even started yet,” he said, smiling like a dare. “You want creepy, baby, we can do creepy.”

And then — he kissed you. No build-up. Just heat. Teeth. Tongue. His hands gripped your waist so tight it felt like punishment. Like you owed him something.

You gasped, he laughed into your mouth. “That little noise? Yeah. Keep doing that.”

You barely remembered how your panties came off — only that they did, and fast. He sat you on the counter like it was a throne and dropped to his knees like he’d done it before. Your skirt got shoved up to your waist. His mouth was filthy — all tongue, all spit, all control.

“I should’ve done this the first time you walked in here,” he said, licking slow and messy up the inside of your thigh. “Could’ve saved myself the backaches.”

You moaned, grabbing his hair. He laughed again, mean this time.

“Yeah. Take it,” he muttered, pushing two fingers in without warning. “Thought you were real quiet. Turns out you’re just full of shit.”

He fucked you with his mouth and fingers till your thighs were shaking, then stood up and unzipped his jeans like it was nothing.

Condom. Wallet. Quick. Practiced.

He flipped you around and bent you over the counter like he owned you. You barely had time to breathe before he shoved in — hard. One hand in your hair. The other flat on your lower back, holding you in place like he knew you’d run.

“Goddamn,” he hissed. “This is what you been hiding under those grandma skirts?”

You whimpered.

He gripped harder. “What? You don’t like being talked to?”

You didn’t answer fast enough, so he grabbed your throat and pulled you back.

“Say it,” he whispered against your ear. “You want it like this?”

You choked out a breath: “Yes.”

He snapped his hips in deeper. You gasped, legs folding.

“Fuckin’ knew it.”

By the time he finished, your legs barely worked and your lipstick was smudged halfway down your face. He didn’t even pretend to be sweet. Just tucked himself back in, pulled your skirt down, and passed you your underwear with a stupid little smile.

“That sketch?” he said, nodding at the pad on the floor. “Think I’m gonna update it.”

You glared at him, breathless. “You’re sick.”

“Sure am,” he said, leaning in close. “And you still keep showing up.”

You barely remembered how you ended up outside in the rain. One minute you were stumbling around the back of the store, fighting with your jacket, and the next, you were standing under the awning, blinking hard to focus.

You should’ve gone home. You should’ve done anything but stand there, breathing the cold air and trying not to let the panic set in.

But you were thinking about him. About that.

And how much he’d messed with your head.

The front door to the store creaked open behind you. You didn’t turn. You didn’t want to turn. But you could feel him before he spoke.

“You can’t leave like that.”

Your fingers twitched. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

You took in a sharp breath, sucking the rain-soaked air down into your lungs. He didn’t even sound like he cared — which pissed you off more than anything else. But you didn’t say that. You just let the silence stretch.

Matt stepped out into the rain, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was quiet for a few seconds before he spoke again, closer now. “Thought I broke you, but damn… you’re still standing.”

“Stop,” you muttered, your back to him. “Just… stop. I don’t need your jokes right now.”

“You don’t?” He laughed, but it was low — like he could hear the cracks in your voice. “Funny. Because you liked me joking earlier.”

The words were too much. You turned around, eyes narrowed, throat tight. “That wasn’t a joke, Matt. That was you being a creep.”

His expression didn’t change. His smirk slipped, replaced with that familiar look of quiet understanding. “You’re right,” he said, voice dropping a little deeper. “But I was being serious, too.”

“Seriously what?” you shot back, fists clenched at your sides. “That you wanted to fuck me?”

He shrugged, slow and deliberate. “Yeah. You think I didn’t want it?”

“Don’t talk like that,” you snapped, your heart pounding. You hadn’t felt this conflicted in forever. Your body was still humming from the aftermath, but your mind was too tangled.

He was smirking again. “Like what? Real? Because I’ve been real with you from the start.”

The rain had soaked through his hoodie. But the way his eyes stayed locked on yours? It was like everything else didn’t matter.

He stepped closer, his presence too close, invading that space you usually kept for yourself. His hand brushed your arm, just barely, but it was enough to make you tense.

“What’s so bad about me being honest?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing. “I like you. You liked what happened. But you’re acting like you want to run now. What’s that about?”

You didn’t have a good answer.

“Answer me,” he pressed, stepping forward just enough that you had nowhere to go but back. “I can see it. You’re into me, right?”

Your heart skipped.

“I—” You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it together. But you weren’t getting anywhere. Not with him looking at you like that.

He smirked again, his hand landing on your wrist this time, holding you there as if he was claiming some part of you — just like everything else.

“You want to run away? Fine. But you’re not going to, are you?”

You couldn’t speak.

He took a step back, but only to breathe you in. “You want me again. I’m sure of it.”

Before you could process, his lips were on your neck — hot, desperate, and enough to make your breath catch. He didn’t care about how awkward this was or about the rain splattering against your skin. All he cared about was you.

“I told you. You can’t just show up like that — in those skirts and with that look — and expect me not to want to tear you apart,” he murmured, lips dragging up the side of your neck. “Now, you’re stuck with me.”

You pulled away from him, trying to breathe normally, but your body was betraying you. The moment you did, he grabbed your wrist and spun you right back into him.

“Relax,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “I won’t bite.”

But you were already on edge, too aware of how badly you wanted to be touched.

This time, you didn’t try to stop it. Your body was already responding, aching, heated, and so damn frustrated.

“You’re not funny,” you muttered, but it was weak — you knew it was weak. You were already giving in.

Matt’s grin was back in full force. “Yeah, I am,” he whispered. “You like me this way, don’t you?”

You couldn’t answer.

But you didn’t need to.

You barely remembered how you ended up outside in the rain. One minute you were stumbling around the back of the store, fighting with your jacket, and the next, you were standing under the awning, blinking hard to focus.

You should’ve gone home. You should’ve done anything but stand there, breathing the cold air and trying not to let the panic set in.

But you were thinking about him. About that.

And how much he’d messed with your head.

The front door to the store creaked open behind you. You didn’t turn. You didn’t want to turn. But you could feel him before he spoke.

“You can’t leave like that.”

Your fingers twitched. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

You took in a sharp breath, sucking the rain-soaked air down into your lungs. He didn’t even sound like he cared — which pissed you off more than anything else. But you didn’t say that. You just let the silence stretch.

Matt stepped out into the rain, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was quiet for a few seconds before he spoke again, closer now. “Thought I broke you, but damn… you’re still standing.”

“Stop,” you muttered, your back to him. “Just… stop. I don’t need your jokes right now.”

“You don’t?” He laughed, but it was low — like he could hear the cracks in your voice. “Funny. Because you liked me joking earlier.”

The words were too much. You turned around, eyes narrowed, throat tight. “That wasn’t a joke, Matt. That was you being a creep.”

His expression didn’t change. His smirk slipped, replaced with that familiar look of quiet understanding. “You’re right,” he said, voice dropping a little deeper. “But I was being serious, too.”

“Seriously what?” you shot back, fists clenched at your sides. “That you wanted to fuck me?”

He shrugged, slow and deliberate. “Yeah. You think I didn’t want it?”

“Don’t talk like that,” you snapped, your heart pounding. You hadn’t felt this conflicted in forever. Your body was still humming from the aftermath, but your mind was too tangled.

He was smirking again. “Like what? Real? Because I’ve been real with you from the start.”

The rain had soaked through his hoodie. But the way his eyes stayed locked on yours? It was like everything else didn’t matter.

He stepped closer, his presence too close, invading that space you usually kept for yourself. His hand brushed your arm, just barely, but it was enough to make you tense.

“What’s so bad about me being honest?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing. “I like you. You liked what happened. But you’re acting like you want to run now. What’s that about?”

You didn’t have a good answer.

“Answer me,” he pressed, stepping forward just enough that you had nowhere to go but back. “I can see it. You’re into me, right?”

Your heart skipped.

“I—” You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it together. But you weren’t getting anywhere. Not with him looking at you like that.

He smirked again, his hand landing on your wrist this time, holding you there as if he was claiming some part of you — just like everything else.

“You want to run away? Fine. But you’re not going to, are you?”

You couldn’t speak.

He took a step back, but only to breathe you in. “You want me again. I’m sure of it.”

Before you could process, his lips were on your neck — hot, desperate, and enough to make your breath catch. He didn’t care about how awkward this was or about the rain splattering against your skin. All he cared about was you.

“I told you. You can’t just show up like that — in those skirts and with that look — and expect me not to want to tear you apart,” he murmured, lips dragging up the side of your neck. “Now, you’re stuck with me.”

You pulled away from him, trying to breathe normally, but your body was betraying you. The moment you did, he grabbed your wrist and spun you right back into him.

“Relax,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “I won’t bite.”

But you were already on edge, too aware of how badly you wanted to be touched.

This time, you didn’t try to stop it. Your body was already responding, aching, heated, and so damn frustrated.

“You’re not funny,” you muttered, but it was weak — you knew it was weak. You were already giving in.

Matt’s grin was back in full force. “Yeah, I am,” he whispered. “You like me this way, don’t you?”

You couldn’t answer.

But you didn’t need to.

The thrift store’s air conditioning was broken again.

You could feel it the second you stepped inside — that warm, trapped heat clinging to every rack of dusty denim and 90s tees. But you didn’t care. You adjusted your headphones, iced coffee in one hand, and started flipping through skirts like it was just another Sunday.

And it was.

At least, for you.

Matt watched you from behind the counter, chewing on the inside of his cheek, pretending he wasn’t thinking about you in ways that would get him fired twice over.

You had on this long denim skirt — high-waisted, frayed hem, cinched just right — and a cropped baby tee that read HEAVEN SENT in rhinestones.

Yeah. That was insane.

You didn’t look at him once. Not a glance.

You just popped your gum, turned up your music, and kept shopping. Calm. Cool. Like nothing had ever shifted between you two.

Meanwhile, Matt was barely breathing.

He watched you try things on over your clothes — an oversized jacket here, a cropped sweater there. You smiled at your reflection once, and he swore his knees buckled.

He waited. Waited for you to say something. Do something. Look at him.

But you didn’t.

You were halfway to the fitting rooms when he finally said your name.

Soft. Careful.

You paused — headphones still in, brows lifted like hm?

He motioned you closer. “Tag’s stuck. Let me fix it.”

You walked over, confused. “On what?”

He didn’t answer. Just reached behind you and tugged the tag from the back of your skirt. Except… there was no tag.

You raised a brow. “Wow. Real smooth.”

Matt smirked, but his hands stayed on your waist.

“I’m not tryna be smooth,” he said. “Just tryna remind you I exist.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re loud. It’s hard to forget.”

He stepped closer. Way too close. “Loud? Me?”

“You’re literally standing on top of me.”

“You’re not moving.”

You didn’t. You wouldn’t.

He leaned in, voice low. “You’re pretending you don’t remember, but you do.”

You blinked slowly. “I’m pretending you’re normal.”

Matt grinned. “Bad move.”

And then it happened — sudden, rough, messy. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the back, into that dusty employee hallway that smelled like old patchouli and cardboard. Before you could speak, he had you against the wall.

“Say stop,” he muttered, eyes dark, voice low and steady. “Say stop and I’ll let go.”

You didn’t.

He smirked. “Didn’t think so.”

Then his hands were everywhere — gripping your thighs, yanking your skirt up, pushing your legs apart like he’d been waiting all week to wreck you again.

“You wear this little skirt in here and act like it’s nothing,” he muttered, pressing his mouth to your neck. “But you wanted me to do this, huh?”

You bit your lip hard, head tilting back, but he caught your jaw.

“Don’t hide,” he growled. “Look at me when I fuck you.”

You gasped — and he took full advantage of it, dragging your panties down and lifting one leg over his hip.

His jeans were already half undone. You didn’t know when, didn’t care.

He didn’t waste time. Just thrusted into you — fast, deep, like he’d been counting down the seconds to it.

You cried out, fingers digging into his hoodie.

He laughed. “Too much already?”

You nodded. But it wasn’t a real no. Not even close.

He sped up.

Your back hit the wall. Again. Again. Again. Rough. Fast. Dirty.

“You tryna act like a little angel,” he panted against your mouth, “but I know what you need.”

His grip tightened on your thigh. The hand that wasn’t holding you up slipped under your shirt, groping rougher than last time — like he needed all of you right now.

“I think about this every Sunday,” he whispered, dragging his teeth along your jaw. “I dream about this shit.”

You gasped again, body trembling — and he loved it.

“Gonna cum like this?” he teased. “Like a good little problem?”

You almost screamed.

And he didn’t stop. Not until your legs shook. Not until you went quiet.

Then — and only then — did he pull back.

Panting. Smirking. Ruined.

You looked up at him, dazed.

He tapped your chin with two fingers.

“See you next Sunday.”

You walk into the thrift store like always — headphones on, iced coffee in hand, cute outfit that you definitely picked just to mess with him.

Matt’s already waiting at the counter. Arms crossed. Hoodie pushed halfway up his sleeves like he’s been pacing. The second he sees you, he points at the back.

“No games today,” he says. “We’re talking.”

You raise a brow. “Talking?”

He nods. “In the back. Right now.”

You sip your drink. “You’re weird.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, well. You ruined my brain. Congratulations.”

You follow him anyway, because of course you do. You love watching him try and fail to act like he’s not on the verge of folding every time you touch him.

He closes the door behind you and turns around fast.

“Alright,” he says, “I’m running this now. You’re done. You had your little chokehold moment last week, and I’m over it.”

You blink. “Oh?”

He nods. “Yup. Starting now, I’m the one calling the shots. I’m the one doing damage. You’re gonna be the one shaking.” You just stare at him for a second. Then you take one step forward, grab his face in both hands, and kiss him hard. Like hard. And that’s it.

He whimpers.

Whimpers. Then melts like a folding chair. You pull back, smug. “Say that again?”

He blinks, dazed. “…Say what?”

“Exactly.” He groans. “Okay—damn. Hold on.” You laugh, but he pulls you into him and buries his face in your neck. “No, I’m serious,” he mumbles into your skin. “I had a whole monologue planned. I was gonna be mean. Maybe even ignore you for five minutes.” You smile. “Tragic.” He pulls back slightly, gives you this mock-serious look, and deadpans: “I should’ve made you beg. Or brought up butt stuff. Something to throw you off.” You snort. “Butt stuff?”He grins. “You wouldn’t survive. You’d combust.” You smack his chest, still laughing, but he catches your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles like a complete simp. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you say. He hums. “I am. And you’re dangerous. I think about you all the time. I literally rearranged the employee schedule just to make sure I see you every Sunday.” You pause. “You changed the schedule?” He shrugs. “Yeah. So what?” You squint. “Matt.” “Don’t act surprised. You know what you do to me.”You kiss him again, slower this time — deep, lazy, a little messy — and when you pull away, his eyes are soft. Like too soft.

“You still running this?” you whisper.

He shakes his head immediately. “Not even a little bit.” You walk into the thrift store, expecting the usual—Matt, his hoodie, maybe some sarcastic comment about your outfit. What you don’t expect is the girl standing at the counter, leaning over it way too casually, laughing at something Matt said. That’s not normal. You stop in your tracks, watching the exchange. It’s not the first time someone’s flirted with Matt, but there’s something about this girl’s tone—too soft, too familiar. She’s close to him. Too close. The way she touches his arm when she laughs? You don’t like it. Not one bit. Matt catches sight of you standing there, and for a second, the air feels thick with something you can’t quite name. You cross your arms over your chest and wait. You’re not going to be the one to interrupt. But when she slides a hand across the counter toward him, you definitely notice. She’s playing all the moves—laughing at his jokes, touching his shoulder like she’s claiming territory. It makes your stomach twist. You don’t even realize you’re walking toward them until Matt looks up, his face going slightly pale when he sees you, and that’s when the girl finally notices you too. “Oh, hey!” she says, eyes bright, as if you two are friends. “You’re the fashion student, right? You’ve got some great taste—Matt was just saying how much he loves what you do.” You nod coolly, your gaze never leaving Matt’s.

“Is that right?” you ask, voice even. Matt clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. “Uh, yeah. Y/N, this is… Sarah. She’s just—” Sarah interrupts, cutting him off, grinning way too wide. “Yeah, Matt was just telling me how cute you are. He said you two are pretty close. I think that’s sweet.” You swallow the wave of irritation, trying to keep your cool. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck. “Cute,” you repeat, your voice low. “I didn’t realize we were that close.” You turn, heading to the back of the store, but you hear Matt stumble behind you. “Y/N, wait—” he calls, his voice tense. You turn to face him. “I’ll be in the back.” When the door clicks shut behind you, you finally let yourself breathe, your frustration turning into something sharper. Matt follows you, his steps hurried. When he gets inside, he closes the door behind him, his expression apologetic. “Look,” he starts, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t— I didn’t realize it was bothering you.” You don’t look at him. You know if you do, you’ll crack. “It didn’t bother me,” you lie. “Just… never mind. She can flirt with you all she wants. Whatever.” “Y/N,” he says, his tone more serious now. “It’s not like that. You know I—” cut him off. “I know what? You were just laughing with her, Matt. It’s like you didn’t even care. Like I’m just… what? The Sunday girl who buys stuff and leaves?” Matt’s face falls. “No. You’re not just that. You’re not just ‘the Sunday girl.’ You’re—” He takes a step toward you, voice almost a whisper. “You’re the one who gets me. Who actually knows who I am.” You look up, meeting his eyes. “Then why’d you let her think…. Think you were interested?” “I wasn’t. I promise you, I wasn’t. You don’t have to worry about her, okay?” He steps closer, taking your hand carefully. “I just… I don’t know what I was thinking.” You snort, letting out a breath. “That’s the problem. You don’t know.” There’s a beat of silence between you before he pulls you close to him, hands on your waist. You don’t pull away. Not yet. He looks down at you, his voice rough. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I let that happen. You’re the one I want. You’re the one I always want.” You feel your heartbeat speed up, but you’re not ready to let him off the hook just yet. “Prove it,” you say quietly. He smirks. “How?” You tilt your head up, your voice low and teasing. “I want you to apologize. And I want it to be real. No more messing around. You. Me. And you’re going to show me how much you care.” Matt’s eyes darken. “You’re really gonna make me work for it?” You nod, your lips curving. “Absolutely.” A couple of minutes later…

The tension is unbearable. You’ve barely spoken since you walked into the back room, but now, Matt is all over you. He’s kissing you, pulling you against him, and you can feel the difference — his urgency, his need to make up for what he almost didn’t realize.

When he pushes you back against the wall, you finally let him take control. His hands move faster now, more deliberate, desperate to show you that he’s sorry, that he’s yours.

And when he pulls back to look at you, his lips swollen, his eyes dark, it’s clear he’s ready to prove it.

You don’t even have to say a word.

You kiss him again, slow this time, showing him what forgiveness feels like — messy, hot, but full of that need to feel connected, to not let anything come between you.

You were just trying to be funny. That’s what you keep telling yourself, anyway. There was this old man at the front counter earlier, one of those regulars who always tries to flirt with the young girls while buying 99-cent mystery books and yellowed paperbacks. You were behind the counter with Matt when it happened — when the man winked at you, asked if you were “single like this dollar bill,” and you, caught in the moment, laughed a little too hard. But it wasn’t just the laugh. It was the way you leaned into it. The way you grabbed the old man’s receipt, looked at Matt dead in the face, and said, “Looks like I have options now.” You thought it was dumb and harmless. Matt didn’t. Now the store’s half-closed, the racks are pushed back, and he’s slamming the drawer shut harder than necessary. You’re standing by the front window, fiddling with the beaded necklace you were gonna buy. The silence feels heavy. “…You good?” you finally ask, casual. But your tone is shaky. Matt turns around, jaw tense. “You think that was funny?” You blink. “What?” “That old dude. That little… performance.” His voice is sharp now. “You think I wanna sit here and watch you flirt with some creepy ass sixty-year-old? While I’m standing right next to you?” You stare. “Matt, it was a joke—” He cuts you off. “No it wasn’t. You leaned into that shit like you were tryna prove something.” You scoff, nerves twisting up now. “Are you serious? You know I wasn’t actually flirting with him”. He shakes his head taking a step closer. NOTE : NEEDED TO MAKE A PART 2💔

[hypogryffin]

lady anne!!

Image ID:

A digital drawing of Morgana and Anne Takamaki from Persona 5. Anne is a blonde girl with fair skin and blue eyes, wearing a modified version of her school uniform; a lightweight off-white hoodie with red and blue designs as well as a four-leaf clover on the hood under a black blazer, rolled up her forearms, and a black skirt with a red and white check pattern. She has a yellow barrette in her hair, blue earrings, and red nail polish, and she laughs with her arms held up to catch Morgana, a black anthropomorphised cat creature with white spotting, who's jumping at her with a smile and closed eyes. He has two tails, a toolbelt around his waist, and a yellow bandana tied around his neck.

End ID.

[black-lake]

The path of warriors 

⚡︎ Aries, leo, capricorn, scorpio and aquarius north node.

🏇🏇🏇

The north node is your karmic path in this lifetime, and as many charts I study and analyze, people with these signs always fascinate me the most with their life stories. These people tend to have the most dramatic journeys I noticed. They all share things in common, persevering alone, beating all odds, relying on themselves, and setting a good example for others. On that note, how have YOU been?? I hope life hasn't been testing you too badly? The day you'll be crowned will come, so hold on love  👑✨👸 I won’t be hyping you up in a sweet way I’ll be shouting at you so don’t mind my aries mercury.

People with these north node signs have to embody the spirit of the warrior, the fighter, the advocate, the trail blazer, the protector, they have no other choice. They persevere through unfathomable hardships. Many of them break generational patterns, needing to forge new ways rather than repeating the old. They remind me of the dragon, the lion, the tiger, the serpent, the owl, the eagle, all the spirit animals that are strong and powerful. This is a check in with you, an acknowledgment for your spirit, and a loving pat in the back from your leo north node friend. 🌞💛

Aries north node.

Rulers - south node: venus, north node: mars

How does it feel like having to fight and defend yourself since you were a child? Being attacked, played with, tested and teased by those around you, even adults coming at you? Being underestimated for your fighting ability and being put in the middle of a battle, unwillingly, even though all you really want is peace and harmony. You found it hard to stand on your own two feet, asserting dominance means conflict. You think you'll find peace but you're put in another battle. I’d be surprised if you haven’t had to fight physically at least once in your life. GET your ass up and STAND up for yourself, loudly, yes make a fuss. Let your voice be heard even if it disrupts the energy in the room. The universe claps for you when you beat their ass and hide the bible if god watching 💥🐯 (kendrick got an aries north node). Never let a bunch of cowards disrespect you, you're up to the challenge. The ways you move in life don’t have to be understood, you're forging new paths. Those who follow crowds lack your strong mindset, lack your vision and bravery. Move with integrity, and remember the truth always prevails at the end. 

With each battle you win, you're cultivating independence, a strong identity, self respect, autonomy over your life and a sense of direction. You are your greatest project and your most significant accomplishment. You've learned to rely on yourself, becoming an initiator, an entrepreneur, an advocate for justice, and a truth teller. Don't wait for people to join you to start, or compromise your needs and goals for others, you can do it solo. Free yourself from your libra ways of people pleasing and seeking social validation. Pick your battles, understand the difference between aggressiveness and assertiveness, and discern what is truly worth fighting for. You're the one who stands up against bullies and liars. You're one of the warriors that the universe uses for justice.

Trust your ideas and instincts, you got all the answers. The universe fights with you and protects you, you're never totally alone. Mistakes teach us lessons, don’t fear them. You're a natural leader, your passion for life is unmatched. You're distinctive, what represents you can’t be duplicated. When life throws obstacles your way, it's to strengthen your fierce confidence, self assurance and independent spirit. 🐅 When you bravely told the truth, when you went your own way, when you created your own thing, when you walked alone, when you took those risks and said fuck what they say, you inspired many people, you awakened many, you left many in awe of your fiery spirit. 

Leo north node.

Rulers - south node: saturn and uranus, north node: sun

How does it feel like to be robbed of your childhood? Being left alone and abandoned as a child? Not receive validation or love? Having your confidence and light targeted and attacked from a young age? Your most beautiful qualities discarded and taken for granted. Your innocence betrayed, your trust and integrity repeatedly broken. Being envied and hated for simply being yourself, for your aura, for shining brightly without lifting a finger. Being alienated, having groups attack you for your unique qualities. Standing confidently alone and walking it all alone. You LEAD, you don't follow, and that can just mean leading your own life. Do you still want to give to others instead of yourself? You can appreciate humanity and inclusivity but release the excessive concern over it. You expose fake groups and encourage authenticity. Princess Diana did everything she wasn’t supposed to do and shined bright doing it, her kindness was golden and her strength was a threat, so they could only attack her (she was a leo north node). Honor yourself, you were blessed by the sun. ☀️💫

You lead from the heart and you're guided by your inner child. Loving yourself and embracing every part of you is for the brave. Leave that group mindset behind, those that just want to fit in are cowards, fuck what the group thinks. Your love, loyalty, strength and generosity are gifts to the world. Don't try to hide your heart, or fall into your aquarius south node ways of turning into an ice queen, isolating yourself and building this artificial heart on top of your real heart, for the greater good or for a bigger cause, or for protecting yourself. Just don’t give to people and places that don't value you. You're learning to bravely STAND up for yourself even if many are against you. You're naturally protected when you are accepting of yourself, and building your self esteem in a genuine way that is based on deep values and not societal expectations.

Heal and free your inner child, don't let the outside noise steal your joy, let yourself play and explore. You'll meet the sun at the end no matter how dark it gets. All those obstacles were meant to make you stronger, develop this inner strength of a lion, this fiery confidence and assurance that isn’t shaken by the outside world. ☄️🦁 That’s who you’re meant to be my love. You're meant to put yourself first at all times, to love, validate and compliment yourself. You’re here to shine in your authenticity. You inspire more people than you know, your spirit won’t go unnoticed, your purity of heart always leaves a mark in this world. Your light is infectious.

Capricorn north node.

Rulers - south node: moon, north node: saturn

How does it feel like being introduced to the harsh realities of the world since a young age? Having to parent yourself without enough support? Being underestimated as a child, restricted, and made to feel inadequate? Being shamed for your sensitivity and emotions. Being placed in the most troubled family with difficult circumstances and told to create a legacy? like hello? universe?? am I a joke to you? Being expected to take responsibility for something or someone. Having pressure constantly put onto you. You become the hardest worker, and then still being messed with? Like oops there’s no reward, do it again. Why are you surprised, you’re saturn’s puppet. The truth is the universe got your back. Reminds of me of Eminem (he’s a cap north node), see how he beat all odds and became one of the greatest? a role model both in his field and as a father. You show people that nothing is impossible. Those lessons become your greatest gifts that guide you to build a stronger and unshakable foundation. Break free from that shell you're used to, you EXPAND beyond that. You're here to be self made, rags to riches. 🎖️✨

Recognize the invaluable qualities you got, the talents, the unmatched energy, the patience, ambition, determination, the caring heart and courageous spirit. Give that respect to yourself FIRST, respect your core values and be proud of what made you. Saturn wants nothing but mastery, it’s your soul that craves mastery this lifetime. 🪐💫 You're learning to build your own safety, at home and in the world, and create your own rules. Let go of your cancer south node tendencies of clinging to the past, repeating mistakes because of childish insecurities or your need to be needed and respected by others. Nurture and provide for yourself by stepping into the world as a self sufficient, disciplined, and goal oriented adult.

Realize that all those difficult experiences happen to help you let go of the past, to build a stable and balanced emotional world. One thing for sure, nothing can stop you, setbacks and failure only fuel your motivation and life force. Rest assured you are promised the respect you yearn for, the success, stability and comfort you dreamed of. You’re one of the most resilient people, unforgettable. Your life story sparks a drive in others to chase their dreams, it inspires more people than you know. The generation will never be the same after you. When you get tired, you can slow down, but remember that everything you need is within you, never doubt that.

Scorpio north node.

Rulers - south node: venus, north node: mars and pluto

How does it feel like having to endure major losses? Having things constantly crashing down before you? Having to fight addictions, destructions and oppositions from everywhere? Not getting a hold of any sense of stability. Feeling like what you chase is escaping you. Experiencing betrayals and having people bring you down, waiting to see you fall. Being the one to blame and villinize when their shadows are triggered. Having no choice but to fight back and learn to survive. Your truth seeking and curious nature triggers many. You go to extreme lengths to find out the truth and seek justice. Your path being ruled by pluto, it removes that which is obsolete, unneeded, no matter how hard you hold into it. You have to be comfortable with the uncomfortable. Your path involves confronting your own shadow self. Survival and regeneration allow you to discover and become fully aware of your true power, limitless potential, and divine nature. “Unstoppable” by sia (she's a scorpio north node) narrates well this story of resilience. You're an alchemist of self, a transmuter of energy, a fighter in all realms. 🐉🔥

This restless mind of yours and psychic abilities you develop aren’t for nothing, they're gifts to help you surrender and trust the universe, the one thing you can't seem to do. You are the butterfly, always cocooning, always emerging. Your life path is a series of metamorphosis. Like a butterfly you're turned into liquid, dissolved, before you choose to spread your wings and fly. 🦋✨ The universe is teaching you that nothing is constant, everything changes, and our innate value as a soul doesn’t. Let go of the illusion of stability. You can choose to flow with the transformative waves instead of fighting them. It's okay to trust and rely on others too, accept it as a gift from the universe. Break free from your taurus south node ways of being too attached to material possessions. Putting too much value on material and physical pleasures won't help you evolve.

Embrace the spiritual side of our human experience, that’s what generates and creates the physical. The painful challenges you faced were meant to shift your values, for you to see and use your power for good. You have the potential to break generational curses and the responsibility to choose wisely between doing better or worse. You can become a great source of inspiration and comfort for others. Whenever I feel like giving up I literally look up a scorpio north node person. Just know that you can save lives. People confide in you, they share their deepest secrets and traumas and you inspire them to keep going because you understand that even the most terrible events will pass and bring about growth and beautiful rewards.

Aquarius north node.

Rulers - south node: sun, north node: saturn and uranus

How does it feel like being the different and outcast child? Growing up in a chaotic and unpredictable environment? Experiencing discrimination or being looked down at. Having situations and people try to humble you. Having your ideas, beliefs and findings rejected and misinterpreted. You're literally vibrating on a different frequency. You might be surrounded by a community or be totally alone, regardless, having a different mission can leave you feeling alienated. You've got an independent mind, you're an innovator, bringing all that's new and futuristic to the world. 🛸✨ You show people different ways of thinking and doing things, breaking and setting trends. Your desire to be a social activist, a scientist and a humanitarian helps us progress. Being ruled by uranus, expect the unexpected, all sorts of twists and turns, don’t be too attached or take things personally and react from your ego. When you embrace your uniqueness, not try to fit in, and do things for the greater good not for validation, you align with your mission. You're a voice for others and that's a responsibility not to take lightly. 

While staying true to yourself, broaden your vision beyond what only affects you, recognize that we're all interconnected. You must learn to share the spotlight and celebrate all others. Let go of your old leo tendencies of extravagance, self importance and self serving behavior, they’ll only pull you backwards. We progress together and you are a catalyst for evolution. You have a deep connection to the earth and the universe, honoring your place within it. You're perplexed by those bums that lack decency and humanity and carelessly harm this earth. Sza, one of my fav artists today got an aquarius north node, and she embodies it well. If you're familiar with her story, you'll know she comes from a different and diverse background, her music style is distinctive, her interests are weird or unexpected, and her humanity and empathy make her relatable and admirable.

Your mission is so important my love, no one can do it but you. Your ability to see solutions beyond conventional teachings are gifts to the world. You recognize that everyone is unique, you celebrate their differences, and encourage individuality in others. People like you are the ones that awaken this world from outdated ideologies and conditionings. It's why this is one of my fav north nodes, it drives us forward by seeking freedom and authenticity, rather than conforming. You are a radiant shining star that holds much needed hope for everyone. 🌬️⭐️

[joeloverture]

sea-cret obsession | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | updates blog pairing: dad's enemy!yachter!joel miller x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] your dad's always had a superiority complex when it comes to his place at austin's finest yacht club. when joel miller joins the club, not only does he dethrone your dad — he also becomes your newest obsession. warnings: (18+ mdni) yachter!joel, dad's enemy!joel, age gap (mid 20s/mid 50s), alcohol, joel is implied to be older than reader's dad - don't read too far into it, reader wears a bikini (anyone can, i promise!), fantasizing, creepyish joel but reader's into it, soft!dom joel, porn with a paper-thin plot, m!receiving oral, throatfucking, facial, cum-eating, f!masturbation, blowjob in the captain's chair, daddy kink (oops), thigh riding, dirty talk, praise, degradation, pet names, aftercare [no use of y/n] word count: 2.9k a/n: this was supposed to be a ficlet for @iamasaddie's ✏️game. this is not a ficlet. please suspend your disbelief, this concept simply fell into my lap the moment i saw the wonderful moodboard aly put together for me. go check out the other fics, most of which are much shorter than mine and are absolute brain candy, that stemmed from aly's game!

Austin is hotter than the hinges on the gates of Hell, and you haven’t stopped sweating bullets since climbing out of Lake Travis. After an afternoon of floating belly-up in your bikini off of the dock of the yacht club your dad frequents, your need for a drink finally outweighed your need for aimless swimming.

Your bare feet are still burning from the hotfooted walk across the wooden deck into the bar. Water droplets cling to your skin and leave a pattern of stippled concrete in your wake. It’s been a few hours you’ve seen your dad around the club, having already gotten into a pissing contest with new club members over horsepower and amenities. Your dad’s the type to always want the biggest and the best: the most decks, the biggest wine fridge, the nicest galley — because God forbid he lose his running ten-year superiority to a newbie.

So yeah, you need a drink. You don’t even have to order; the bartender, Callie, simply slides your usual order over, which you nurse while watching a preseason football game. You haven’t bothered to sit down, your hip popped out with your elbows propped up on the granite countertop.

You don’t even notice the wolf whistle from behind is directed at you until a man sidles up next to you, flashing a smile at Callie. He looks like he belongs in a yacht club, curls styled and sculpted neatly around his face down to where the collar of his blue blazer begins. Some of the buttons on his striped shirt are undone, and your eyes, much to your chagrin, linger at the slice of tanned chest peeking through the fabric.

He looks you up and down, unabashedly licking his lips when he sees the crease of your thighs. “Sweetheart, you’re much too pretty to be entertainin’ the ragtag kinda men around here.”

It’s not the first time you’ve been hit on by the yachters at this particular club, but it is the first time one of them has caught your eye. “I’m not–” you start before you hear the telltale sign of your dad’s laughter coming from close by. You turn around, drink in hand as he rounds the corner, sunglasses on and a towel around the back of his neck. 

Your dad’s expression immediately sours with a speed you’ve never seen in him before. His lips draw tight at the sight of you – or maybe the sight of the man next to you.

“Joel,” your dad says, separating from his entourage. He wraps a protective arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his chest. “I see you’ve met my daughter.”

“Seems it,” the man, presumably Joel, nods, flagging down Callie for an old fashioned. The glass sweats condensation along his sturdy hand. He holds eye contact with you while he sips, only looking away when he runs his tongue along the rim of the glass. “Oughta let me take ‘er for a ride one day. Bet she’d appreciate the fine machinery of a real boat.”

You don’t miss the innuendo to his words even if your dad doesn’t. You scrub your hands along your sides, your sunscreen-sticky skin dewy beneath your palms. You shush the part of yourself that bets you’d appreciate it, too.

“Your boat is maybe good for getting to the retirement home across the lake,” your dad snaps, squeezing your shoulder. He pushes his sunglasses up his nose. “C’mon, kiddo, let’s head home.”

You find your flip flops at the bottom of your beach bag, barely having the time to kick them on before your dad is practically pulling you out of the yacht club. He gives half-hearted waves to his usual boating buddies until you’re in the parking lot, surrounded by heat shimmering over the blacktop. The scalding hot leather seats burn the backs of your thighs and the small of your back as you settle in. With a purr, the air conditioner blows a fresh burst of wind in your face.

“What was that all about?” you ask when he starts the engine.

Your dad clips his sunglasses on his polo shirt, gripping the steering wheel ten and two with a winded sigh through his nose. “Fuckin’... rookie with his triple-decker Ferretti.”

Joel looked rich. But not Ferretti rich. “Who the hell in Austin owns a Ferretti?”

“That son of a bitch, that’s who. I don’t want you runnin’ amok on Joel’s boat, you hear me?”

“Ain’t planning on it,” you respond as if you don’t already know what’ll happen if Joel propositions you again.

You see Joel again soon, but only in passing. A wink behind your father’s back, a drink from the gentleman across the bar that was only coincidentally Joel. The locations of these run-ins are always different. Sometimes you walked by each other on the dock. Sometimes he’d give you both a quick wave from across the water before he sped off, leaving the boat rocking on the stirred up tide and your dad cussing up a storm.

Today’s almost-tryst happens on the dock. You’re walking past Joel’s designated dock in a bikini that you’d nearly thrown out because of its snug fit. You have to smother your disappointment when you don’t see him on the top deck sipping a beer. You know better than to be disappointed over the man who your dad has not only claimed as a mortal enemy, but also claimed as the antichrist. With the thoughts Joel gives you when your hand is between your thighs, it might not be too far from the truth.

You think you have most of it figured out – he’s rough, he has to be. With how relentless as he is on the waters, it makes no sense for him to be anything else. His fancy, custom belt buckles snicking as it comes undone so he can yank his jeans down and get inside of you. Those chains he always wears would hang in your face, swaying with every roll of his hips into yours as he chases his pleasure deep inside of your–

“Woah there, darlin’,” a honeyed voice coaxes you, a muscled arm darting out to stop you in your path. “Almost walked right into the lake.” Your head snaps up to look at Joel, the very inconvenient object of your fantasies. You swallow the quickly-forming lump in the back of your throat. “You sure you ain’t had too many?”

“Positive,” you say. You haven’t even done a shot s0 far today.

“Mmm, alright.” The playful glint in his eyes doesn’t seem too convinced. It makes your heart stutter before you remind it to keep beating. “Tell ya what, you’re welcome to ‘sober up’ on my boat.”

You look between where your dad’s dock sits empty. He’s out with his co-workers today, shooting the shit too much for their own good. Then you look between Joel and his boat, the beauty of a Ferretti that’s just two steps away.

Mouth already watering at the possibilities, you say, “I do remember you promising me a ride, old man.”

Joel’s lips curl into a knowing smirk, and he makes the long step from the dock to the boat, hand held out for you. You don’t hesitate to let him help you aboard. 

You’re on your knees in front of the captain’s chair before he gets to the middle of Lake Travis. “Old man,” he mocks above you with his legs spread as far as they can go. You kitten-lick his hardened cock, making sure to lap up the obscene amount of his precum. There’s certainly one part of Joel that doesn’t need to go to a retirement home, and it’s in your mouth. You suckle at the leaking head of his cock while his strokes your cheek, only pulling away to spoon a drop of his precum from your lip onto your tongue. “You like suckin’ an older man’s cock, pretty girl?”

You nod eagerly, taking him deeper so you can tongue the vein along the underside of his cock. From that, he groans, head slumping on the headrest so he can gather himself. You spit a generous amount into your hand, wrapping around the base to properly suck him.

“Bet there’s a whole ‘nother lake in that skimpy lil’ bikini of yours, ain’t that right?” You nod around his length and go a little deeper. He’s heavy on your tongue, long and girthy all at once. He presses lightly against the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him, but you wouldn’t pull away from him even if the yacht itself set on fire. He moans as you start to bob your head up and down. You rub your thighs together just thinking about what his cock could be capable of between your legs. “Mhm, I know, baby. You wanna push that outta the way and give it a rub for me? A rub for your real daddy?”

A choked whimper punches its way out of you. His hips jerk from the vibrations, unintentionally pushing himself further down your throat. You expect it to be too much, but it isn’t. You pull away from him, taking a quick breath as you wrap your hand around the wide palm seated on his thigh and raise it to the back of your head. “Please fuck my throat, daddy,” you pout up at him, a mixture of your spit and his precum dripping down your chin and into your cleavage.

Another groan tugs its way out of him when he looks down at you. He cups the back of your head and brings his cock back to your mouth. “Can’t say no to such a gorgeous fuckin’ face. Gonna look so damn good covered in my cum.” You keep licking his tip, not wanting to miss a single drop of him. “Go ‘head and put a hand on your pussy, baby. Rub that clit that daddy’s got all throbbin’.”

And how could you ever say no to him? Your hand is down your bikini within seconds, peeling your tacky panties away from your cunt so your fingertips can rub circles along your clit. A circle against your swollen core pulls a moan from you right as he thrusts into your throat. He starts out slow, tentative as he pushes all the way into your throat and then pulls all the way out. His second thrust is much harder, stifling your breathing for a moment as a strangled noise of pleasure leave his parted lips.

He nudges you further down onto his cock, burying your nose into the triangle of skin exposed by his rumpled button-down. You force down the gag that builds in the back of your throat. Joel keeps your mouth speared on his cock with shallow rolls of his hips into the warm wetness of your mouth. You whine, prompting a hearty chuckle from him. “Good girl, daddy’s good little girl. Keep playin’ with yourself for me.” He smirks down at you. “Ain’t much different than what you do in your own bed, huh? Pussy just cryin’ for some cock, I bet.”

You moan in agreement as your eyes flutter shut when you rub your clit harder, harder, harder until arousal is smeared all over your knuckles and across your mound. “Nuh-uh,” he says with a punctuating adjustment of his hips. You gag, spit webbing through Joel’s happy trail. “Eyes on me.”

You’re satisfied to find him just as debauched as you feel. Strands of his usually put-together hair are out of place along his forehead, and his golden chain glistens with sweat. His hands grip the arms of the captain’s chair, spread on the tanned leather and exerting dominance over your kneeling silhouette. But you aren’t fooled. There’s a certain rosiness to his cheeks, a flare to his nose, that lets you in on the secret: he’s just as wrecked, just as in deep as you are.

You pull up and immediately sink down on his cock again, pleading eyes looking up at him, asking him. I want it daddy. I want you. And then he’s fucking your throat in earnest. His hips buck up to meet the back of your throat. You struggle to keep up with his size, his pace, but you suck his cock even with the knowledge that you won’t know how to explain your sore throat or raspy voice to your dad.

Joel squints down at you, absorbing the seeping spit from the corners of your raw lips, your droopy, ecstasy-laden eyes. He sighs, sinking down into the chair as he grinds his cock into your mouth and moves your head up and down his length. You take the hand that isn’t playing with your clit and reach to grab at his balls, kneading them. A narrow breath trips out of his lips. “Nasty bitch. Fuck, baby. Daddy’s close. Keep – keep doin’ that.” You drag your tongue along that bottom vein again, kneading one of his balls and making sure that when he pulls you off of his cock, you treat the head to one final taste. 

“Open up, slut,” he coaxes. His cock twitches. He jerks himself once, twice, and then cums, rope after rope hitting your damp skin. His cum is hot, sticky, and you’re too preoccupied with trying to catch some of his release that your hand stalls over your cunt. You whimper when his cum lands on your tongue and follow it up by swallowing. Joel’s breath is unsteady as he looks down at you, cock softening in his lap. “Good girl,” he praises, reaching out to run his thumb along your stained skin. Drop by drop, he feeds you his cum, and you lap it up just as eagerly as you’d lapped him up. 

You pull your hand out of your bikini when he’s done, tacky arousal stretching between your fingers. Going back on your haunches, you suck in a deep breath through your abused throat. 

Joel pats his wide, thick thighs above you, the same ones you’ve been fantasizing about since that first day in the bar. “I promised you a ride, didn’t I?” A familiar, hooked smirk pulls at his mouth. Your face lights up in recognition and you practically scamper onto his thigh, stumbling as you tug your bikini out of the way to settle yourself on the linen coral shorts he has on. Joel laughs, a noise that has your cunt leaking onto the fabric, clit fluttering from the friction. Heat pulls tight in your stomach.

His hands land on your hips, guiding you back and forth when you hesitate at first. “Grind on daddy’s thigh, baby. Wanna see you cum on me.” Your head tips forward, forehead slotting against his shoulder when you start to push your hips into his. Need springs awake in your stomach when he drags you forward. A frayed moan tumbles out of you from his near-manhandling. You rut into Joel, bouncing, grinding yourself on him in the same way that you’d imagined yourself doing at least a dozen times before this.

“Daddy,” you whimper when the muscle goes taut underneath you, plucking something in your cunt. At the same time, a speedboat passes Joel’s yacht outside, leaving the ship rocking on the water in time with your movements as you ride his thigh. You yelp, a strained noise as the pressure intensifies on your clit. “Close!”

He grips your hips even tighter, bounces his thigh up against you. “That’s it, that’s it. Let it happen baby, give it to daddy.”

You come undone with the taste of his cum still rich on your tongue and his words ringing in your buzzing ears. Your orgasm whips through your body and leaves you shuddering against his center, halfheartedly continuing to roll your hips up against him. His thumbs rub circles into your skin while you come down. You suck in a shaky breath, Joel’s palm stroking the small of your back. “Did good for me, baby. Look real pretty when you come. Real pretty.”

You give him a shy smile, and he leans forward to kiss you, a brief moment of gentleness amidst his usually ubiquitous harshness. He pulls away with a tiny pat to your ass. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You stumble off of him on shaky legs, leaning against the captain’s console. Joel pulls his shorts down his thighs and tucks his cock away, the wet spot your cunt had made on him beyond visible as he stretches himself out. He fishes around in a drawer in the galley for his baby wipes and joins you back at the console. He takes them to your face, wiping down where his cum had hit your skin. He even dabs gently at your thighs. Orgasm bliss clings to the edges of your vision still, and you can’t help but lean into him as he takes care of you.

“Could take you for a real ride, now,” Joel says with a moderate shrug. “Nice cove on the west side of the lake, good for a quick swim. I’m sure your dad would throw a fit if he knew, but I’m sure you’re good at keepin’ secrets, too. Got a real good mouth on ya.”

You playfully punch his shoulder with a roll of your eyes, and in that moment, it feels like you’ve known Joel much longer than you have at all. Like this isn’t your first time on his boat, and this wasn’t his first time being in your mouth. “Alright,” you begrudgingly smile at him. “Whatever you say, old man.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes as he starts the engine.

[tarotbyjam24]

Pick a pile : Clothing style you should give a try

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗

Disclaimer: this is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so 🕊️

Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️ Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸 I'd love to hear your thoughts on this reading <33

Masterlist \pick a cards

I also offer paid readings you can book one as it'll help me a lot and don't forget to check the free readings offer ✨

Pile एक

Pile 1 : boots , gold accessories, leather jacket,high waist jeans + shirts , long\ short blazers , black shades , trench coats

colours: dark red , brown , white , black , beige

Pile दो

Pile 2 : gothic core , barbie core , chinese flowy dresses , turtle necks + chain necklaces , vest suits , dark academia fashion , check sweaters \ shirts , short skirts , marry janes , lace socks , gender bending clothing , oversize washed off pants

Colours : pruple , green , black , navy blue

Pile तीन

Pile 3 : okay I feel this pile itself is divided into 2 pile 1st those who wanna dress all modest and cutesy and another one is just pulling the clothes which 1st comes in their sight 😹 also if you're thinking of giving try to clothes that aren't usually wore by people around you give them a try this time ^⁠_⁠^

Baggy denim jumpsuit, jeans , short skirts + knee length boots + turtle neck blazer , pants + loose tshirt + loose cut sleeves sweater , old money core clothes

Colours : grey , brown , green , white

Pile चार

Pile 4 : okay okay so you must try my demon kdarma's fl do do hee's fashion you could pull up her fashion so amazingly. Suits and vests gonna look so great on you and for some cottage core dressing will look good too . Also I think plain clothes with no pattern gonna look good on you more than patterned clothes . Converse shoes , nike air force or any white shoes , pencil heels , ties

Colours : Orange, green , blue , white , grey

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day

Loads of love , jam🫶🏻

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

[madamechrissy]

Take me Home Tonight

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Gojo is 28-29 here, reader is like 22 or 23. Nothing too crazy. But is Professor/teacher forbidden type love. (Fingering, phone sex, texting nudes, tension in this chap)

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 10k

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ After passing your LSATs, your friends take you out to unwind. You never go out, so you are awkwardly agree, and you end up in the arms of a super hot man named Satoru. You end up screaming Satoru's name as he drops down on his knees before you, only to lose him in the club. All you have is his first name. Two months later, in your Criminal Law class, your heart stops. Your teacher? Professor Gojo. Or as you soon call him, Professor Dickhead. You can't fuck up your law school, and he won't fuck up his career, not just because he makes you wet in class, no, he's a dick. Right?

That pout and blue eyes don't wreck you, right? - Lawyer AU (If you wanna be tagged in updates let me know 💓)

<<<Chapter 3- Masterlist - Chapter 5>>>

Chapter 4

The next day, you’re dressed to kill, in a cute little black dress that hits just above your knees, a little houndstooth pattern blazer and some fancy heeled boots, hair put up in a bun. Maki is out there with you as you wait for Gojo, you had finally gotten a chance to fill her in, and Yuta is there too. They both have their mouths open when you come out and greet them.

“Damn, business woman here!” Yuta says, and you hug him, grinning. Then you turn to Maki.

“I’m lesbian now.” You snort in laughter, hugging her too.

“You took my girl!” Yuta pouts, then Maki gives him a head pat. Your heart aches a bit at how open they can be, while you…

What even were you and Gojo?

“Thanks, you two! I wanna leave a good impression. It’s such a serious case.” You nervously check your phone, it’s a little before eight AM.

“I still gotta see this to believe it. He was so young looking. Then again… Professor Geto is too and he’s so hot.”

“I’m getting really jealous over here.” Yuta is pouting again, you both hug him on either side. “Never mind now I have two hot girls.”

“See!” You kiss his cheek as does Maki, then you see it, that damn sleek expensive sports car.

“Fuck that’s nice.” Maki murmurs, then Gojo pulls up, windows down, grinning as he leans back in the seat, throwing a peace sign at the two of them.

“Hey there stranger.” He says to Maki with a wink, and you watch her blush, pink on her cheeks, Maki blushing? How? “And are you the boyfriend?”

“Yuta. Are you the hot professor?” Gojo throws his head back in laughter, and now it’s your turn to blush.

“One of them.” Maki says. Gojo’s mouth drops, hand to his chest.

“How dare you! I’m the prettiest professor there is.” You all snort in laughter as Gojo steps out now, coming around to open your door. Maki is squealing in your ear now.

“A gentleman huh?” She whispers, you arch a brow as you look at him, in that damn black suit, and you just can’t get over how good he looks, you notice his tie just a smidge crooked. It’s the only thing that isn’t perfect about him today, but it’s something you’ve noticed and now it’s endearing.

“Not a gentleman, trust me.” You whisper back, and Gojo turns from shaking Yuta’s hand to lean toward you two, hands in his pockets.

“Aw, talking about how hot I am?” He says with a wink, and you both roll your eyes. Maki pushes up her glasses.

“He’s kinda a dick huh?”

“I heard that you know!” Gojo very maturely sticks his tongue out at her, and she does it back, you just shake your head.

“See you all tomorrow!” You say then, and they both hug you, waving at Gojo and then running off to class. You’re left standing alone with him now, looking up at his lush white hair, looking extra soft and shiny. Your fingers itch to touch it.

He looks at you too then, up and down. “ Brat , you’re looking so damn good today. You’re giving me a run for my money.” He says with a smug smirk, his hand reaching out to take yours for a brief moment, before inclining his head for you to come sit in the car.

“Thank you, Gojo, I was trying to look professional. Here.” You stand a little closer, fixing his tie just a bit, and then there was so much… goddamn tension… as he just stands there, watching you with those azure eyes, lips parted just so.

“Thanks, Miss Brat.” He murmurs, and you manage a little half turn of your lips, acting like being near him didn’t tear you apart, didn’t make you overheat just touching his damn tie.

“Of course. Ready?” He grins, nodding, then he’s shutting the door and sliding in the seat next to you, as you prepare to drive you fiddle with your phone, so much left unsaid between you both, as vivid memories of him…

Getting you off better than any toy with two fingers?

Yeah.

“Should just nickname you thighs.” You turn to him in confusion, and he’s looking at you, squirming. You moan in annoyance.

“I can’t help them!”

“They’re also really nice. Making me a leg man over here.”

“Oh stop.” 

You giggle as his hand brushes your thigh for just a moment, hating how damn comfortable you felt with him. You take his hand off, but you hold it for just a minute, running your thumb down his knuckles, and you feel his hand tense in yours, as you study his long elegant fingers. Then you sigh and let it go reluctantly, putting it back on his gear shift.

“That was… nice.” He says curiously, and you ache to touch his hand again, but it wouldn’t stop there, would it?

But the way he says it, so vulnerable and soft?

Fuck.

“Your fingers are demonic, you know.” He snorts at that, and the mood is lightened, but you may or may not have brushed his hand a few more times as you all drive, every time he puts a hand back, like some little game, until he snatches your hand up and kisses it.

You bite back the little whine in your throat of pleasure of just how good his lips feel brushing against you, just staring at him with your lips parted, with glazed over eyes, his perfect jawline and his profile just kill you. The cut of his hair in the back? Kills you. Full lips that perk up in the corners? Kill you.

“You really need that picture, brat. Go ahead, take one I don’t mind.” He shoots you a wink, and you flush. “Pink is so pretty on you!”

“Gojo!”

“Especially your pink-”

“Gojo!” He snorts laughing, and that sweet little moment is gone, but it’s good, you can breathe now, as you cross your arms and act affronted. But, really you’re not at all. You peek back over after it calms down and you both are just listening to music and driving, and again, it’s comfortable. So comfortable.

“It’s your time to shine today, well, in the background but those phone records did come in, and they came in clutch.” You grin, wide, and he smirks at it. “You’re getting off to law, such a nerd.”

“Says you!”

***

You and Gojo sit next to each other in court again, and the anticipation lights the room up, the tense prosecution, and goofy, happy Gojo sit in sharp contrast with each other. Gojo is kicked back, relaxed as the prosecution questions the next witness, who is growing ever nervous, and Gojo is just chewing on candy and smirking.

“Enjoy the show, baby girl.” Gojo murmurs, you just admire him, tilting your head and smiling at him.

The phone records had come in, and now Gojo is strutting over to the stand, handing them to the judge with a smirk. “Heya Judge, good morning.” He shoots her a grin, and the stern judge laughs at that a bit, before growing serious.

“Good morning Mr. Gojo.”

“If it pleases the court, or should I say, the lovely Judge .” Gojo’s fan girls are swooning, you roll your eyes. “We’d like to submit these records into evidence, and question the previous witness again regarding their credibility and any potential tampering of evidence.”

The judge looks over the records, her eyes scanning them intensely before she nods, and calls the witness back in from yesterday, and you can see the prosecution’s faces drop when she agrees. They approach the bench, then huff away, fuming and just down right dejected.

The witness, Miss Saito, is called back up, looking so nervous, while Gojo? He is calm, cool, and collected, perfectly at ease, as he questions her about the night again. Her eyes nervously dart around the room, to the jury, and he’s so calm, you can’t even imagine being like him. He’s really something.

Then, he hits her with it, the gap of missing time from the phone records, and she starts stammering, sweating.

“Miss Saito, can you tell us about the phone call you made that night?” Gojo asks sweetly, as if he’s not interrogating, no he’s just caressing everyone with that deep timbre of his.

“Well… I-I was worried about my friend, so I called her to check in, but she didn’t answer. Then, I just… I hung up quickly.” She says, trying to play it cool.

“Ah, but, the records show no call was made to said friend at that time. In fact, it shows no calls at all. Did you perhaps delete something from your call history?” The room goes dead silent. “Accidental nude?” He says with a wink. You struggle to cover your laughter, the court fails.

“Objection!” Prosecution yells.

The Judge tries to hide her smirk. “Sustained. Mr. Gojo, please, refrain from asking about nudes.”

“Sorry, so sorry.” He brushes his hair back, turning and winking at the enamored jury. “Did you delete something, Miss Saito?”

You watch as she turns a little paler, her hands shaking as they fidget in front of her. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe it’s a mistake?”

Gojo smirks, turning to the jury. “A mistake hmm? I think it’s more than a mistake, don’t you all?”

The prosecution jumps up, looking like they’re about to have a meltdown. “Sit down, I don’t want to hear another objection.” The judge leans forward on her hands, looking intently at Gojo’s show.

“N-no, I don’t remember deleting anything! I didn’t see…” She’s about to cry, you can tell, and Gojo sighs, coming to lean his hands across the bench, handing her a tissue box.

“I didn’t ask you if you saw something, Miss. Did I?” The courtroom gasps at that. “Hmm, did you see something? Perhaps you saw… the real killer?”

“Objection!” The prosecutor is sweating now, and the court room erupts, as they try to object, but Gojo’s got the room.

“The truth will make you feel better, love.” He says to the young lady there, and she just falls apart then.

“Maybe I… I…” She looks at the accused, who is emotional clearly. “I hated you and wanted to ruin you! And… also…. Someone paid-”

“Your honor, he is leading!” Comes the prosecution.

“I’m not leading, I’m just letting her speak her truth. It wasn’t you, the killer, was it?” She shakes her head. “Go ahead, get it all out.” He leans his back against the bench, sighing.

“No, I would never… but I… he was cheating with those whores so of course I… I…” She’s sobbing, hiccuping, and everyone in the courtroom, including you, are in utter shock. You didn’t know that this would even develop so much. Then suddenly you feel it, his excitement, clear across the room.

“That call was to the person who really killed her, isn’t it?” She shivers, nodding then, and you lean forward, fucking fascinated.

“And who was that, that terrible person who’s so manipulated you. You just were in love you know.” He purrs the words, seducing everyone in that damn room, then and there. “Go ahead, let everyone know.”

She starts going at it then, spilling so much information, that they try to object her talking, which was pretty hilarious, you get some really odd thrill from it all. You watch as she practically runs off the stand, and Gojo sits down next to you, leaning back in his chair, looking over at you with a grin, then he hands you a piece of candy, and you giggle.

“Professor Gojo, bravo.” You whisper, he chuckles softly.

His hand moves up your thigh, under your skirt, and you bite your lip to keep from gasping. His touch is electric, and you're torn between the thrill of the case and the desire to jump him right there in the middle of the courtroom mixing together. You hesitate, but you brush the back of his hand with your fingertips, and your eyes meet, his darkening.

“Good work, Miss Brat, you absolutely helped.” He murmurs, and squeezes your thigh gently, it feels so delicious that you struggle not to make a noise. The man barely touches you and you fall apart, pathetic is what he makes you… and…

The praise from him? Fuck it gets you.

The deliberation begins, and everyone disperses, waiting for the call back. You and Gojo grab lunch, him taking you to get yummy Ramen, then you head back and wait in the little office. You're studying your books because you honestly needed to, and Gojo is going over everything with the client and the D.A. He comes back then, shutting the door and looking over at you.

“Such a good girl.” The way he says it makes you squeeze your thighs and your teeth clamp on your lower lip. “Ooh, you like that huh?”

“Hush. I can't let my studies slip.” You cross your legs now, struggling not to shift under his bright blue gaze. “You really are amazing at this though, Satoru.”

He preens under the praise and you can't help but smile as he does a twirl, holding his face. “Aw shucks, thank you shnookums!”

“The fuck, you're so goofy.” He laughs, coming to stand by where you're sitting in the office chair, so tall that your head is damn near at his lap, making your mouth dry.

“You're boring. Need to have more fun.” He snatches your textbook, you scowl, standing and jumping, he just grins with those fangs and eyes your chest. “Love to see those bounce.”

“Oh God, don't even.” You feel yourself heat up, trying to yank his arm down and get your book. “Gojo I have school you know!”

“I do, I'm your teacher. Fuck the thought of you in a naughty school girl outfit-”

“Hush!” You slam a hand on his mouth as he practically purrs against your hand. You struggle to not laugh, keeping a firm look on your face. “Be good.”

“Yes mommy.” He pouts and gives you big eyes. You laugh then, nearly snorting, then sigh.

“You're ridiculous. Now give me my book, please?”

“Gimme a kiss. Then you get it.” You tremble when he holds his arm high with the book, then the other wraps around your waist, hand burning your skin through your blazer.

“Satoru… when we're back at school Monday, like… it'll be…”

“Yeah, I'll be rock hard looking at your fuck me eyes across my classroom.” His hand brushes down your waist, desire pools between your thighs. “Hard wanting to fuck you in that dorm and make it impossible for you not to scream and let everyone know.”

“Gojo…” You whisper, pathetically.

“Fuck you so good you won't think of anything else.” He whispers those words against your lips, seductive, and you come closer, holding the lapels of his jacket now, pressure in your tummy at the thought. “Can't though, huh?”

“Can't. Bad idea.”

“Terrible idea.”

“Shit idea.”

You both pause, in an office of a courtroom trial, the biggest in years, and you lean up, tilting your chin, your eyes lock. His mirror the desire in yours, pretty face tense, perfect brows low over those eyes. He eases his arm down, then you kiss him, tongue sliding against his lips, pressing in, and the book chatters to the floor.

He moans into your mouth, hands gripping your hips, thumbs pressing in, hands so big they own you. You come up to hug his neck, falling into those kisses, the ones you constantly crave, until he has you pressed on the door, lifting you so effortlessly, hands cupping your ass and shoving up your skirt.

You gasp for a breath when he finally let's you pull away slightly, and Gojo's blue eyes are dark with lust, and he smirks at your reaction, his hand not moving from your ass, just holding you, pressing against you, making you want to grind against him for friction you crave.

"Can't resist me, can you brat?" He whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

“Conceited, arrogant…” But even as you say the words, you lean back into him, your body betraying you, hips pressing up for more.

"Mm, but you want it, don't you baby?" He murmurs, his thumb tracing circles on the bare skin of your neck, coming to wrap your throat, a threat of choking that makes you throb. He presses his weight against you, until it's all him. "I can feel it.”

You exhale, a shaky breath, then as he's inching his hand up your thigh, just watching you, a knock comes, right against your back. You tense, and Gojo just shushes you, easing you down off the door, straightening your dress.

“Yep, what is it?” He asks, so casually, picking up your book.

“Twenty minutes.” Comes the bailiffs voice.

“Perfect, thanks.” You let out a held breath, bending over dramatically. He laughs at you. “Hurting hmm?”

“Nope, just fine.” You take the book out of his hands, lips tingling, then Gojo pauses you.

“Let me fix your hair.” You blink a bit, then nod, and he puts the bobby pins back in place. “Bun got messy.”

It feels so good, his fingers in your hair, caring for you…

Fuck.

“Thank you, Satoru.” You murmur, and his hands are on your shoulders as he is behind you, leaning low, breath on your ear.

“Why are we always on time limits? It makes me so competitive with the clock.” You tremble. “Should I see how many times you can cum in-”

The door knocks again.

Gojo cusses under his breath. “Yep?”

The door opens and he lets go of your shoulders, you pretend to look at the book as the D.A. comes back in and talks to Gojo. By the time he leaves, deliberation is almost over, and you look back up at him. He moans, coming and cupping your face.

“The fuck me eyes kill me. Stop it.” You flutter your lashes as you look down, flushing. “Do you blush everywhere, Miss Brat?”

“You're ridiculous!” You hiss, he just grins, eyes lingering on your chest.

“You blush here.” His fingertips trail down the hint of cleavage, making your nipples press against your bra, straining the fabric. You cry out unwillingly, slamming your mouth shut then. But it's too late.

“Gojo we can't…”

“Could I get you off in three minutes?” You cover your face, sighing, then look back up at him.

“Could I do it?” You murmur, and he freezes, eyes wide and glittery, mouth open in an O.

“ Could you ? Have you even…” You're heating up more.

“No, I haven't but… you've pleased me and… it would be… I'm curious… I …”

You're just stammering and looking down, he kneels then, in front of you, holding your chin, tilting it up to look at him. “The thought of that is alone making me fucking precum, mmkay?”

“It is!?” You look right at him, he smirks a bit.

“I think we'll wait though. Till I'd have time to show you how.” You melt then, when his hands go to your face, cupping each side so delicately. Like you're precious.

“But back at school… what if we have no… fuck I'm being bold. Ugh. And making no sense.”

“I like it. This side of you.” He presses a soft kiss on your reddened lips, then sighs. “You know sucking my dick won't help your grades though.”

“Fuck off, Professor Dickhead!” You shove at him, he snorts in laughter, throwing his head back, you huff, smoothing your dress and struggling to function. Before you step out he takes your wrist. “What?”

“With words you've made me more turned on than anyone could. Just words.” You look at him in shock.

“What… I… Satoru you're so gorgeous I don't even get why-”

“Don't even say why I'd want you I'll get really fucking irritated.” He's glaring now, voice clipped. He's still got your wrist.

“I'm like a frog next to you.”

“I'm the frog. You're the princess. Gotta kiss me.” He purses his lips and you giggle. “You're banging ass hot, so please don't think you're not. I'm picky, too.”

“Thank you, Satoru.” You peck his lips. “My handsome frog.”

“Ribbet.” You giggle uncontrollably as he makes some stupid frog face, then he is laughing with you, hugging onto you. It feels even better than… no not better than his kisses, but so good. “Never say you're not hot again. I'll use a yardstick on that nice ass.”

“A yardstick!?” He grins, maniacally, but the thoughts whirl through your head.

“You're such a freak, you want that huh? Professor Gojo spanking his naughty student’s ass till it's bright fucking red.” He's whispering the words, and before you can lie, it's time to go.

Jesus you are on edge.

You're edged.

The deliberation is over, and you all file into the courtroom, your heart is hammering in your chest. Gojo seems calm, just talking with everyone. When the verdict is finally read, you find yourself holding your breath. They came back with a completely unanimous decision, though. Not guilty.

As all of the charges are read back to back out loud, all not guilty, the courtroom erupts into chaos, the accused's family hugging each other and sobbing, the prosecution looking stunned and furious. Gojo stands, smoothing his tie, his expression calm, like none of this surprised him, his eyes on you for a moment before the family comes to him.

“You saved my son’s entire life, Mr. Gojo. Thank you so much.” The accused dad, the state representative says, shaking Gojo’s hand.

“She helped too, actually. The phone call records.” He exhales, looking at you and grabbing your hand, bowing over it so formally.

“Thank you so much for helping. Bright future, especially working with him, he’s the best.” He smacks Gojo on the shoulder, and Gojo grins, you flush with pride, you've helped someone. It feels so good.

“Of course, I’m so glad I could help at all.”

“And I am so amazing, aren't I?” Gojo nudges you with his shoulders, and you are rolling your eyes, sighing, then look up at him.

“You are.”

As the courtroom clears out, you both pack up your things, your heart racing at such a thrill, and Gojo seems to be literally on cloud nine, damn near bouncing like a kid with way too much caffeine. He says good bye and takes pictures with his never ending fans outside, then you realize it’s getting to be evening, the sky casting a pretty dark orange glow.

Gojo takes his jacket off, and you smile. “I have a blazer, Satoru, I’m fine.”

He wraps you in it anyway, carefully, and you inhale it, wishing you could just live in any of Gojo’s jackets. He holds your shoulders carefully, looking at you with those big blue eyes. “You look really cute in it.”

You melt.

He sees it, he’s observant.

“I do?” You ask softly, and he nods, as you two stand together, the last people are filing out down the stairs, the wind blows his soft hair around, and you brush it back, watching his eyes shut for a moment.

“You always look cute, Miss Brat.” He teases a bit, after damn near brushing his head against your hand for more.

“Thank you, Satoru.”

On the car ride home you struggle to stay awake, exhausted, until you somehow wake up back at your dorm, drool out the side of your mouth landing on Gojo's expensive jacket.

“Shit, I'm so sorry! I'm always ruining your clothes.” He gently wipes your lips, leaning close, as you blink the sleep away.

“I'd like to make you drool.” He says softly, and you cry out, when his hand is on your thigh, squeezing.

“Satoru… we're… at my dorm. I can't… what…”

“Poor baby can't speak can she?” You manage a glare, yanking off his jacket.

“Fuck off, Professor Dickhead.”

“Didn't you offer to suck me off today?”

“I… you…” He's chuckling at you now. “Ugh, annoying!”

“Thought you were so eloquent, hmm…”

“I'll see you in class Monday.” You manage, and go to leave, he stops you, taking your hand.

“Any plans? Wild parties?”

“Me? No. I'll be studying, but Maki did invite me to some frat party. I'm not sure if I'll go.” You rub your tired eyes a bit, gather your things, and watch Gojo's lips turn down. “What's wrong?”

“Promise me you'll be careful if you go?”

Your pulse hammers in your throat, as his eyes glitter in the dark of his car. “Of course I will. I'll… text you? That's weird huh.”

“Just let me know you're good. Some of the Frat parties have… some shitty dudes. Just watch your drinks, okay?”

“That's so sweet actually…”

“Hush, don't tell anyone.” You smile softly, running a hand up and down his chest then.

“Wish you could go and we could be like…” You both pause at that. “Ignore me, fuck I should sleep. I'm saying dumb shit. Good night, Toru.”

At that, he's got a hard grip on your wrists, you wince a bit, looking at him in confusion. He pulls you close, so close you nearly are on top of him in his fancy little car, one of your thighs sound over his, hands on his chest, and you just pause, looking up at him, at the shadows from the city lights shining in on the perfect planes of Satoru Gojo’s face.

“I love when you call me that.” He says softly, and he leans down, lips a breath from yours, tempting you, right in front of your dorm.

“Toru…” You whisper again, knowing what you’re doing. He moans then, and yanks you on his lap, your thighs spread over him, a position you had not even been in with him. You feel him, growing hard right under your cunt, as he shoves your little black dress up your thighs, his hands now on your waist under your blazer. You’re trembling under his touch.

You both sit there, precarious, just breathing, as if both of you know if you kiss it’ll be over, you’ll be riding your Professor’s cock then and fucking there. You can’t even form a coherent thought as he presses up then, against your soaking wet little pussy, and you grind back, pressing your hips down and crying out. His eyes never left yours, just drinking you in.

“Should I give you something to think about, when you’re getting hit on by frat boys tomorrow?” He whispers, pulling you down again, and you feel how thick he is, how huge even under his dress pants. You cry out pathetically.

“Why, you jealous, Toru ?” You whisper, leaning closer, and he glares then, grabbing your hips and pulling you down hard, arching his own hips up, to where he’s between your puffy, slick folds now. “Ah!”

“You won’t want them, will you?” He whispers, against your lips, not kissing you but shoving you down on his clothed cock, making you soaked. “Say it, brat, that you won’t want anyone.”

“Why do you… care… mnh!” You’re lost in the sensation, grinding against him without even realizing it. His hands are everywhere, pushing up your skirt, exploring the smooth skin of your thighs, and you're so wet, so desperate for him, that you can't help but whimper, just a breath from his lips.

"Aw you want it so bad, don’t you baby?" He whispers, his voice full of smug satisfaction. "You want me to fuck you right here. So fucking desperate for my cock."

“No… I… mmm…” You hiss when he chuckles darkly, his hands moving up, cupping your breasts, as he pushes up again, teasing you with his lips.

“Still a shit liar, Miss brat. Say it, and I’ll get this pretty pussy off.” You get wetter, hotter at the thought, and watch him grin as you’re rocking your hips for more. “Soaking my pants, Miss Brat.”

“I… like to ruin… your clothes… ngh…” You can’t form a single coherent word, and he feeds off it, pouting up at you, mocking.

“I… like… to… grind on your dick, Toru! Mmm!” He mocks the fuck out of you, and you glare, shoving at him, trying to get your throbbing cunt off him.

“Fuck you, Professor Dickhead. Let me go.” He laughs again, softly.

“Admit you want it, Miss Brat. Me to make you cum, like only I ever have.” At his words you’re flushed, overheated, his grip won’t let you go, and you get dizzy in the car, realizing just what you all were doing.

“Satoru…”

“Toru.”

You exhale then, holding his face in your hands, lips hovering over his. “We’re being stupid and reckless, Toru.”

He grins. “Aw, baby, you just can’t admit it huh? Maybe I should ask her…” He runs a thumb over your panties, sticky and wet, dripping with desire. “She seems to like me more than you do.”

“She’s dumb. Mmm!” You clutch his shoulders as he grinds up on you, while shoving his thumb up on your clit, blue eyes wide and dilated, lips tempting you, glossy and full, you want so badly to let go, to give your pussy what she wants.

“Does she want me?” He asks, softer, you nod, and he yanks his hand away, leaving you breathless, confused. “I need you to use your words. Coherent words, Miss Brat.”

“Ugh!” You bend down then, pressing your cunt against his cock, watching him suck in a breath, hands going in his soft hair, yanking it back, making him look up at you for just a change. “I won’t be fucking around at this party, okay? I wouldn’t… I don’t want to.”

He pulls you down, lips taking over yours then, mouth just possessing yours, sloppy, messy kisses, tongues licking and teeth bumping, moaning into each other’s mouths. That all consuming fucking kiss, the one that you could never get enough of, rushing straight to your cunt that’s dripping more on him.

“Only want me, hmm?” You nod, helpless, unable to lie to him. “Say it, and I’ll get this perfect pussy off.”

“We can’t… here… we shouldn’t even be doing this right now.” Your voice breaks in the middle when he presses again, making you hiss at how bad you’re aching, eyes rolling back, and damn near ready to drool again at the sensations. Then you’re kissing again, and he lifts your hips up and slides two fingers in you at once, stretching you out, filling your aching little hole.

“Feel her, pulsing around me already.” He whispers, and the car gets too hot, hard to breathe with how much you want him, your cunt is drooling down his hand, as he tilts his fingers now.

“Want you, I want you. Want you…” Is all you manage, then you’re unbuckling his belt, surprise on his face for a brief moment, and you watch him closely, his face contorting in pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut when you grab his cock.

“ Fuck .” He moans, so sexy, and you’re raised up on your knees now, bending down, your ass on his steering wheel, one of your legs shoved against his gear shift, and all you can think about is that he’s so hot and huge in your hands.

You look down, salivating at the sight, even in the dark you can tell he has a pretty, perfect cock, so goddamn long it’s stupid. You stroke him harder, your hand moving in a rhythm that matches the beat of your insane pulse hammering in your throat, and his grip on one of your hips tightens, his fingers shoving in your cunt deeper, until you see stars, hand faltering for a moment.

“Under pressure, brat, remember?” He whispers, taunting you, and you just buck your hips, riding his fingers, while you swipe your thumb over the tip of his cock, smearing the precum around, and he jolts, his hips jerking upwards, pushing his length deeper into your grip. “Jesus… fucking… ”

“Jesus… fucking… can’t talk hmm Toru? Your words .” You taunt now, and he glares at you, as his breathing turns ragged, his chest heaving, and you feel your own arousal spike as you watch him lose control, bringing you even closer to the edge.

“You’re a fucking brat. Can’t wait to fuck this stupidly wet cunt.” He hisses the words, then he withdraws his fingers, bringing you down, until your cunt is pressing against his length.

“Toru!” You cry out, and you nearly fall, pressed against him, he groans when he feels you.

“So hot, so wet. Need it. Need you.” He yanks your panties to the side, then you both freeze, as a car parks right next to yours. You tense, straddling Satoru Gojo’s cock with just your panties as a sad, pathetic barrier of soaked lace. And he freezes, as you both look out the car window.

Someone gets out of what appears to be an Uber, and you pray Gojo’s windows are tinted enough, clinging to him, not breathing. It’s two seriously drunk girls, though, they’re both giggling, leaning and taking selfies, as you and Gojo just fucking sit there, your cunt throbbing, wanting him inside her, and him, so hard he hurts, leaking precum on your panties, making them a bigger mess.

They finally walk in, and he exhales, the same as you, then you both stare at each other, eyes locking, until you’re blushing furiously, realizing what had almost happened. You ease off him, and he winces, adjusting himself back into his dress pants, running a hand through his silky hair. You adjust your skirt, taking a shaky breath and then stepping out.

He’s instantly in front of you, shutting the car door behind you, and you clutch your books tight to your chest, trembling as he bars you, arms on either side of you against his car. You look up and meet his eyes, hungry, a little bit of pink on his perfect cheeks, his lips parted.

“Toru… we’re stupid.” You manage to say, and he smirks just a bit, shaking his head.

“You’re not stupid, Miss Brat. Well… stupidly hot.” He whispers, and you tense, clutching your thighs together, sticky as your wetness soaks you. “Stupidly tight. Stupidly wet.”

“ Toru… stop. ” You’re whining his name and he groans, cupping your face.

“I can’t handle how good that sounds on these gorgeous lips. Got me wanting to lick you on this hood right now. Make you scream it.”

You whimper, resting your head on his chest, holding your books so tight they dig into your arms. The door opens, and Satoru backs off, as another car pulls up as well, and you both catch your breaths, finally having distance. You can't even look at him, at his gorgeous face, a face that makes you forget your entire life, forget everything but how much you crave him.

“I should go inside.” Your voice is shaky, unsure, and he tilts your chin up, making you meet his beautiful gaze.

“If you need me to… if you need anything text me. Call me. Okay?” His voice is a little strained, and you nod, smiling up, lips stinging from his kisses, wishing you could just do it, right here. Let him lick you on his damn hood.

You hurt.

“Thank you, I will be fine though. Promise. I don’t drink much.”

“That’s worse, no tolerance.”

“You worry about me, huh? So soon?” He pouts a bit, standing straight then, hands in his pockets. You watch the wind whip his hair around, so gently, he looks so beautiful there, it makes your chest tighten. “Will you miss me all weekend?”

“You wish. Brat .” He rolls his eyes, and you smile softly, giggling a bit, earning his glare. “Won’t miss you at all, less of a headache. And less of my cock in pain.”

“I was gonna…”

“Yeah.”

You both damn near jump each other again, then you take his hand gently, enwrapping your fingers with his. He looks down at where they’re joined, bringing your hand up to his lips, kissing it, making you melt.

“Good night, Toru. I’ll see you Monday in class.” You mumble, blushing at the thought of that.

“Night, Miss Brat.” He mumbles back, and you run off practically, struggling to put distance, to get air between you two. You peek over your shoulder, and see him leaned against the car, hand over his face, and you realize…

Satoru Gojo wants you.

How, you can’t quite fathom.

Damn near as much as you want him.

His eyes look at you and you turn and run into the building, like some silly teenager, you can’t handle him looking at you like that, like he wants to eat you. You’re stripping, as is your new routine, hopping in the shower, because you honestly just can’t anymore, you can’t take how bad you want him.

You’ve never wanted something like that, and you both were dumb enough you were about to fuck right in front of your dorm. Oh, and his cock? The biggest and prettiest you'd seen…

Fuck.

***

"Come on, it's just one dance." The guy behind you urged, his breath hot and icky against your ear. He was honestly cute, and you all had talked just a bit, but the thought of it?

“I don’t dance, I’m sorry.” You say, nervously, looking around at the dancing sea of bodies, feeling the loud bass ringing in your ears.

His hand rested gently on the small of your back, on the outskirts of the crowded college party. “I could teach you?”

Gojo had taught you.

Remembering being in his arms nearly broke you, and you tremble thinking about it, about how much you crave him, how much you wish he could just… date you? Like maybe, when you’re done with school, or at least not in his classes, you all could, right, but would he be around, available? Look at how fucking handsome he was, there is just now way.

The thought punches you in the stomach.

You turned to face him, a cute blond guy, his eyes full of hope, and shook your head with a sympathetic smile. "I don't think so, sorry. Nice to meet you though!" You say, and then walk back through the room, until you run right into Maki.

“He was cute, why not dance?” She asks, her green hair was down today, straight, looking gorgeous. You sigh, running your fingers through it.

“I’ll dance with you.” She rolls her eyes, smiling at you.

“Are you pining for hot professor?” She teases, you sigh, rolling your eyes now, shaking your head.

“She’s totally fiending.” Yuta comes, teasing you with a poke. You smack his hand away, sighing.

“I know we can’t… I mean, not now.”

“So you’re what, holding out anther couple years? You’re already like three years dry.”

“Maki!” You glare at her, and she shrugs, walking towards the drink table, grabbing you each a beer. “It’s not like those were good you know.”

“The first time isn’t usually good. I mean, Yuta… he was amazing. Quick though.” She giggles and Yuta glares now.

“That just meant you’re amazing.” She flushes a bit, and kisses him, they were about the same height, both way taller than you. You crave that, but with…

“Ugh, I do have it bad.” You grumble, sipping the beer and grimacing, it was not your drink of choice.

“Listen, at least have some fun. Oooh, beer pong!” Maki bounces up and down, and before you know it, you are actually playing, you end up losing terribly, and you all are going back and forth. It starts hitting you after your third beer, this weird, fuzzy headed feeling.

You are a lightweight, so you back off a bit, and Maki and Yuta go at it with two more of their classmates, laughing as Maki annihilated the boys. You smile, then head towards the bathroom, and by the time you are in there, everything is spinning, and you grow dizzy a bit. You splash a little water on your face, then look down at your phone, contemplating…

You know you shouldn’t, but you’re tipsy.

Your thumbs move almost by themselves, and before you know it, you're typing a message to him, feeling your heart flutter in your chest, looking at the message over and over. Should you? Ugh!

Fuck it.

You: I miss you, Toru.

You freeze, hand on your chest, feeling your heart pounding, thrumming in your ears, overheated. You lean against the bathroom counter, and watch the three little bubbles move. What was he up to, you wonder, what did Satoru Gojo do, when he’s not a lawyer, a professor, a…

Professor Dickhead: You’re tipsy, aren’t you?

You giggle at that.

You: Yeah, a bit. Not gonna lie.

Professor Dickhead: Being safe?

You: Turned down a dude who wanted to dance.

…

Professor Dickhead: Good Girl.

You’re wet now. Great.

You: Wet.

No, did you just…

You: Ignore that!

You panic as he keeps typing, those damn bubbles.

Professor Dickhead: Show me.

Fuck…

You’re trembling, phone nearly falling out of your hand, and you contemplate it, you can’t right? That’s awful It’s making everything worse! No way…

You: What do you mean like… a picture?

Professor Dickhead: Pic, vid, I wanna see her.

You: Scandalous man, wanna see your student’s pussy? While she’s had three beers?

Professor Dickhead: Hmm… you know, I’d ask to finally see those perky tits, but I wanna see them in person first.

You flush.

You: And where are you?

Professor Dickhead: Out with Geto and Nanami. We’re at some fancy martini place and the girls are coming in hoards.

You giggle at that.

You: Bet one of them would show you their pussy, easy.

…

Professor Dickhead: Wanna see yours, though, it’s the prettiest one.

You: Are you rizzing me Gojo?

Professor Dickhead: Do I even have to?

You hop up on the counter then, and your hands shake as you lift your skirts, sliding your panties to the side. Fuck are you doing this? You are, aren’t you? Drunk texting your very hot professor, angling the camera to look at your glistening pussy in the selfie camera, lips puffy from the abuse your vibrator put on it this morning, thinking of him.

You slide your finger between your lips, taking a little video, rubbing up and down once, twice, then you pull the camera up, and lick yourself off your finger. You flush, from alcohol, horniness, and… the thrill, the… you’re nervous? You’ve sent like a titty pic before, but not this.

You hit send, squealing, then hopping off and splashing your face again, hearing someone knock on the bathroom door. You answer it, and it’s Maki, who just stumbles in, along with Yuta, shutting the door. She goes to sit and pee, and Yuta and you just laugh, as she glares.

“What? Like I care. You’re like my boyfriend and my girlfriend.” You sigh, looking back down on your phone, as Yuta looks over at you.

“Oh shit, you’re bright red!” He teases, and you go even redder. “Who ya texting?” Like magic, the sound of an incoming message pops up.

“N-no one!” Maki finishes, washing her hands and peering at your phone, just in time for a text to pop off.

“Professor Dickhead!?”

“Shush!”

“Oh shit, white haired Professor!” Yuta says, peeking too, you hide your phone against your chest. “It was a nude, huh?”

“Shut up you two ugh!” You shove it into your purse then, crossing your arms, chin up in the air. “Was not.”

“Liar!”

That one was in unison.

“That dude is still begging for you. Let’s get home, huh?” Maki says, and you nod, because you want nothing to do with him, with anyone.

You only want…

As you get in the back seat, Maki and Yuta are going at it, and you use the moment of reprieve, seeing that text.

Professor Dickhead: I want to bury my face in that pretty pussy. Drink all that wetness up.

You get wetter, thighs sticking together, and your heart races. You should ignore it. But that’s not what you want, is it? You crave his attention, his touch, his everything. You want him to claim you.

You: Toru… not alone. In a car. Can’t get that horny.

You don’t check the phone until you’re back in your dorm, chugging ice water like crazy and popping two tylenol, preliminarily. You get ready for bed, in your little tank and shorts, brushing your teeth, and it’s not until you actually lay down that you check, it’s like this odd nightly routine now, seeing his texts.

You crave them.

You crave him.

Professor Dickhead: Tell me when you get that nice little ass home safe.

You: I’m home, Toru.

Professor Dickhead: In bed?

You: Mmhmm, bet you wish you were here.

Fuck, this alcohol made you bold.

You: Am drunk. Ignore.

Professor Dickhead: Just makes you speak the truth, brat.

You: Hush. I should sleep.

Professor Dickhead: I’m gonna cum so hard to a five second clip, that it’s actually gonna be embarrassing. Who even am I now.

You feel giddy, it’s as if something so dirty is stupidly romantic.

You: Want me that bad, huh?

Professor Dickhead: You played with that pussy thinking of me last night, didn’t you baby? I can tell.

You: Shut up.

Professor Dickhead: All puffy.

How'd he know!?

You: You’re annoying! Byeee!

He laugh reacts to that message, and you roll your eyes.

He was right.

You: Really gonna masturbate to me?

Professor Dickhead: You act like I haven’t already.

You: What!?

Professor Dickhead: It’s become a nightly routine. Can’t get that perfect pussy out of my mind. Sucks it’s attached to an annoying brat.

You: That’s how I feel about your tongue, so talented, but it’s attached to a six foot four jerk.

He angry reacts that one.

You giggle.

Professor Dickhead: Funny you thought of me at a party, all drunk and getting hit on. And I’m on your mind.

Your heart races at that, at the truth, and Gojo knows how to pull the truth out of you, out of anyone. You did only think of him, you had been since you met, but you couldn’t just say that. Right?

You: My pussy texted you not me.

He hearted that one, making you snort in laughter.

Professor Dickhead: Good, I like her better than you.

You: You’re such a dick.

Professor Dickhead: You like looking at that dick?

You: Shouldn’t you be spending time with your friends?

Professor Dickhead: Didn’t answer me.

You: It’s… pretty and… perfect. It’s huge. You already know it though, don’t need to hear it from me.

Professor Dickhead: Want your mouth on it. Wanna fuck your tight little throat.

You’re gushing wet, you yank off the blanket, whining, covering your face with your hands. Your entire body throbs at his words. Suddenly, it rings, and you freeze, staring at it with wide eyes. Gojo is calling.

“Y-yeah?” You ask, and he’s quiet, you can hear the music and laughter in the background.

“Play with it for me.” His voice is so fucking sexy, especially over the phone, that your hand instantly does as he commands, sliding under your little pajama shorts waistband then, and you cry out. “ Fuck. ”

“I… mmm…”

“Little circles.” He orders softly, and you do so, playing with that swollen little clit, pressing up, imagining his touch. “Wanna drink you up, taste so yummy.”

“I wanna suck you off. Drink your cum.” You whisper then, and hear him curse, something slamming shut. You giggle a bit, then gasp as you slide a finger inside of you, tiny and pathetic. You whine. “Fingers… yours… better, s’much better.”

“You want my fingers in you?”

“Yes, Gojo… fuck…”

“ Toru .” He corrects, biting the words out.

“ Toru. ” He moans softly at it, whispering your name then, urging you on, and you’re close with your own fingers so fast it’s unreal. “ Toru, m’close.”

“Cum for me baby, think of me there, licking it all clean.” He says, husky and quiet, and you start to feel your tummy clenching, and you’re whining, gripping the phone to your ear for more of his breathing. God, even his breathing was so sexy it made you already sloppy pussy wetter. “Let me hear it, baby please.”

“You never… say… please… Toru!” You cry out then, loud as fuck, sounds vibrating in your empty little dorm room, and your hand is now covered in an embarrassing amount of wetness.

“Send a vid of it now. I have to go… you’re making things stupidly hard for me you know.” His voice is gruff, and you giggle, breathlessly.

“You did this to yourself!”

“Send it.”

“Fuck… maybe.”

“Do it and I’ll have a reward Monday.”

“A gold sticker! Professor Gojo!”

“Bye, brat.”

He hangs up the phone, and your damn heart is racing, so fast you think it’ll fall out, there is a ringing in your ears, and your thighs ache. You sigh, then take your phone, spreading your thighs, playing with the soaking mess he made your cunt with a couple of words and some breathing over a call. Then you send it, nervously, before wiping yourself up.

You start to fade out, but you hear a buzz, and jerk a bit, in that stage of sleep where you feel like you’re falling. You bleary eyed look at the screen, and it’s a message from him, from…

Professor Gojo: Prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen.

You: Whass gonna be my rward Toruu.

Your eyes cross, so exhausted. He laughs at your response.

Professor Dickhead: Lol, your fingers left the chat.

You: The fingers did too muchh work.

Professor Dickhead: Go to bed, silly, it'll be a surprise.

You: Am bed. G’night Toruu.

Professor Dickhead: Night, pretty.

You fall asleep smiling, hugging the phone.

***

On Monday, your hangover is finally gone, but the aftermath of that night is lingering in your head, as you’re in Professor Nanami’s class, the one right before Professor Gojo. Nanami is a class favorite, as he was so calm and kind, and of course the girls swoon over him and his model cheekbones. You’re a little lost adrift when he calls on you.

“Yes, Professor Nanami?” You ask, and he gives you a little turn of his lips, hazel eyes soft and tired, he looked like he really needed a nap. You flush when you think how he was there, when you were sending Gojo…

Shit. Focus.

"Can you tell us, in your view," Nanami began, his eyes locking onto yours now. "How does the court's interpretation of the Fourth Amendment in this decision impact privacy in the digital age?"

You fumble through your brain, scrolling through all the open windows that were honestly just Gojo, to get to the books of laws you’d been pouring over. Then you find it in your mind. People in the class are watching you, Yuta is in this one, and he gives you two big thumbs up, mouthing ‘you can do it’.

“Well, Professor, the notion of privacy was rooted in physical spaces, before technology advanced so much. And now, there’s really almost nothing that is private with our digital footprint, is there?”

“Indeed, not much is private. But shouldn’t we still strive for it?”

“Of course we should consider the implications for our digital lives. This decision primarily deals with privacy but also, in court cases, it happens at times where you need to see those things. That’s what subpoenas are for.”

He smiles, and at the end of class he pauses you for a moment.

“Yes, Professor Nanami?”

“Heard you helped in that case for Gojo. Good job.” You blush under the calm praise, as the class has filed out, leaving the two of you. Nanami takes his suit jacket off and you catch a glimpse of those action star muscles.

“Thank you so much, I didn’t do that much.”

“Gojo went on and on about you. So, I disagree. It’s not often a little narcissistic idiot compliments someone.” You laugh then, and cover your mouth, but Nanami laughs with you, the first time you've seen him do it, and he looks far too pretty.

What  pact did these three professors make with a demon to look so good, you wonder. A sacrifice surely.

But Gojo?

He talked about you!?

“That’s actually really sweet of him.” Nanami’s eyes narrow a bit, and you tense just a bit.

“Be careful, okay?” He says softly, tone shifting, and you flush bright red, looking around the empty room, stepping a little closer.

“We haven’t…”

“I really don’t wanna know. I’m assuming the worst because it’s Gojo. But where he can get out of anything, your career hasn’t begun. So…” He puts a hand on your shoulder, patting it. “Just be careful.”

“Of course, thank you. I promise I won’t let any studies slip.”

“I wouldn’t think you would. But don’t lose focus. All right…” He unbuttons his wrist sleeves a bit, rolling them up. “Head on out, I have way too many papers to grade here.”

“Of course, have a good day Nanami! I mean, Professor!”

He smirks as he sits down, rubbing his tired eyes. “Nanami is fine.”

You smile shyly then bounce out of the class, shutting the door with a loud click behind you, heart racing. Was your attraction so obvious?

Gojo…

Someone yanks you in a room then, and you hold back a scream, as a big hand comes to cover your mouth, and you look up to those blue eyes, dilated and looking way too intense. So intense you can’t stand it. You blink a bit, and he’s grinning, letting his hand drop.

“Miss Brat. Ready for the surprises?” You giggle breathlessly, before shoving at his chest.

“You’re ridiculous. Scared the fuck out of me.” Nanami’s words run through your mind then. “We need to be careful…”

“I know, that’s why I snatched you up.”

“Like a psycho!”

He waves his hands, then he holds out two bags, one a little black glittery one, like the way he made you when he hit your G spot-

Get it together, damn.

The other was a pretty little white one, also glittery, a bit like Gojo’s silky fucking hair-

Stop it.

“You didn’t have to actually get me anything, I… shouldn’t have even done that, I’m still embarrassed at…”

“Nope. Don’t say it. I have a yardstick.” You feel pressure in your lower tummy then, clutching and unclutching. He just laughs, so fucking gorgeous, throwing his head back. “Freak.”

“You! Heard you were bragging about me hmm?” You caress his chest then, and he tenses, then glares.

“One tiny bit, mmkay?” You grin. “Gonna get a big head.”

“Thank you though… which first?”

“Both are motivational, so they’ll help you succeed.” He’s looking devious, and your heart flips a bit, just what was he up to? “Black or white first?”

“Um… white. Like your hair-fuck!” He chuckles at that, handing you the bag, and you struggle not to blush and tremble under his gaze.

“You’re really cute.”

“Hush.” You gently open the bag, and there is a pretty little white box, long and rectangular. Your eyes meet his, studying your every expression intently. “Gojo, you didn’t have to-”

“Open it, Miss Brat.” His soft, deep tone orders you, and of course you obey, shit you’d do anything when he talks like that.

You gently open it, and it’s a beautiful bracelet, thick rope of silver, with one charm and two big colorful beads, bright blue. You finger the charm delicately, and it’s a charm of the law scales, bright silver. You blink back emotions, looking at it, and then back up at him.

You didn’t have much in the way of parents, and with your lack of boyfriend history, no one had ever gotten you anything like this. You feel tears prick your eyes then, swiping them away and gently pulling it out of the box, struggling to keep yourself together.

“Hey, you okay pretty?” He asks softly, different from his usual teasing tone, and you realize tears are falling.

“It’s so pretty, I don’t… you should have gotten me…”

“It’s motivational. Here.” He takes the clasp, and grabs your wrist, putting it on his chest. “This is because you killed it at court. The more times you excel, I’ll add charms to it.”

“Toru… I…” You’re crying, fuck. He wipes your tears.

“You cryin, brat?” You just nod.

You’re so pretty when you’re crying, those tears flowing down your pretty cheeks, big eyes glittering as you look up at him. You are so small, so open. He’d been dreaming of you constantly, since that random night. Yeah, he’d thought you were beautiful, but when he had kissed you?

Gojo had been with countless women, fuck he’d shared women with his best friend casually, but you? The way you tasted, how wet you get, those eyes after he’d made you cum, it was the most addicting thing. More addicting than candy, Gojo’s only real addiction, you tasted better.

Your hand shakes violently, as the silver bracelet rests on your delicate wrists, and he takes it gently, kissing it, watching your lips part, those fuck me eyes in full force. God, the way you looked at him? It fucked him up, made him want to say fuck everything and fuck you then and there. Keep you well fucked, too, so all these guys he saw look at you would fuck off.

Possessive, he felt possessive, of a girl that he’s not dating. A girl he hasn’t even fucked. A girl with a bright future, that he didn’t wanna fuck up.

But…

For you?

“Toru, no one has ever gotten me anything like this.” He pouts a bit at that, tilting his head, pretty face concentrated on you.

“No one? It’s just a pandora, silly.” He taps your nose, but then he has to swipe more tears. “Not even like…”

“Don’t have a family really.” He pauses, brushing your hair back softly, letting you speak calmly. “And we all know I’m shit at having a life. So no boys.”

“Well, fuck them, anyway. Don’t get so excited. It’s motivation.”

You smile tremulously, hugging him around his waist then. “I love it, Satoru, just perfect. Thank you so much.”

He hugs you back a bit, then taps your back. “You’re welcome. Look all from letting me see a five second tease vid.”

“Satoru!” He snorts in laughter.

“You’re such a crybaby.” He nods to the other bag then.

You were so touched by a bracelet, which was nothing to him, Satoru Gojo was filthy rich, born rich, then busted his ass to get more. But if it wasn’t for the entirety of the situation, he’d have you dripping in diamonds. Fuck, naked, dripping with diamonds, god he needed to see you fully, when and how could you all?

It’s a consuming thought.

You crying was even hotter? Fuck.

“What’s this one?” You hold out a black box curiousy, thicker and bigger, then when you open it, you slam it shut. “Toru!”

He’s grinning like the Joker now, the Mad Hatter, a psycho. “This will be your stressor, keeping quiet and focused when I use it on you in class tomorrow.”

“No! No, no, uh uh!” He just grins wide, and as you’re holding what is literally a vibrator for panties, and he’s wiggling a remote control, you freak out.

“Let’s try it on.”

“Satoru… you psycho…” He’s bending down, on his knees in front of you, and his breath is on your thigh, sliding up your skirt. You fall back, until you’re leaned against the door frame.

“Pressure, Miss Brat. Now… let’s…” Then Satoru Gojo has hooked your panties in his fingers, yanking em down.

What… the fuck were you in for?

Chapter 5

Chapter on Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56895382/chapters/146269327

[nucrests]

Butter Cropped Suit Collection Redux

Hihi!! I thought it would be fun to have my Butter Cropped Suit Set for the feminine frame sims! This 22 item set includes tops & bottoms as well as bowtie & tie accessories to mix and match for various styles. (A bonus item is included with this set so check additional info below!! 😉) I hope you all have fun and enjoy!

Additional information:

BUTTER CROPPED BLAZER BOWTIE ▪ Base Game Compatible ▪ Includes 38 swatches: 18 solids, 10 plaids, & 10 houndstooth patterns ▪ Custom thumbnails ▪ Found under "Necklace" Category

BUTTER CROPPED BLAZER TIE ▪ Base Game Compatible ▪ Includes 38 swatches: 18 solids, 10 plaids, & 10 houndstooth patterns ▪ Custom thumbnails ▪ Found under "Necklace" Category

BUTTER CROPPED BLAZER (VERSION 1) ▪ Base Game Compatible ▪ Includes 38 swatches: 18 solids, 10 plaids, & 10 houndstooth patterns ▪ Custom thumbnails

BUTTER CROPPED BLAZER (VERSION 2: HIGH WAIST) ▪ Base Game Compatible ▪ Includes 38 swatches: 18 solids, 10 plaids, & 10 houndstooth patterns ▪ Custom thumbnails

BUTTER CROPPED BLAZER (VERSION 3) ▪ Base Game Compatible ▪ Includes 38 swatches: 18 solids, 10 plaids, & 10 houndstooth patterns ▪ Custom thumbnails

BUTTER CROPPED BLAZER (VERSION 4) ▪ Base Game Compatible ▪ Includes 38 swatches: 18 solids, 10 plaids, & 10 houndstooth patterns ▪ Custom thumbnails

BUTTER CROPPED BLAZER (VERSION 5) ▪ Base Game Compatible ▪ Includes 38 swatches: 18 solids, 10 plaids, & 10 houndstooth patterns ▪ Custom thumbnails

BUTTER CROPPED PANTS (VERSION 1) ▪ Base Game Compatible ▪ Includes 38 swatches: 18 solids, 10 plaids, & 10 houndstooth patterns ▪ Custom thumbnails

BUTTER CROPPED PANTS (VERSION 2: HIGH WAIST) ▪ Base Game Compatible ▪ Includes 38 swatches: 18 solids, 10 plaids, & 10 houndstooth patterns ▪ Custom thumbnails

BUTTER CROPPED PANTS (VERSION 3) ▪ Base Game Compatible ▪ Includes 38 swatches: 18 solids, 10 plaids, & 10 houndstooth patterns ▪ Custom thumbnails

BUTTER CROPPED PANTS (VERSION 4: HIGH WAIST) ▪ Base Game Compatible ▪ Includes 38 swatches: 18 solids, 10 plaids, & 10 houndstooth patterns ▪ Custom thumbnails

BUTTER PLEATED SKIRT ▪ Base Game Compatible ▪ Includes 38 swatches: 18 solids, 10 plaids, & 10 houndstooth patterns ▪ Custom thumbnails ▪ Masculine version also included!

📁:PATREON (ALWAYS FREE) | TOU | KO-FI If you enjoy my content, please consider supporting me on patreon or ko-fi. Your support will be much appreciated! 🤍

[raingems-blog]

Work at Home

Summary: While doing Victoria's laundry, you find something interesting.

Warnings: Blood, implications of murder

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

A blazer, some work pants, Zoe's favorite top, another blazer. You sorted through the clothing in the laundry basket as you hummed along to the music playing from your phone. The repetitive actions were almost therapeutic as you separated piles of clothing to be washed and dried. Victoria sat in the other room at the kitchen island as she poured over some work emails while the muffled sounds of Zoe's cartoons could be heard coming from the living room.

Oftentimes, you and Victoria split chores around the home, having a schedule chart that hung on the foyer wall. Today, it's your turn to do laundry, and the melodic singing of Selena Quintanilla blasting from your phone often made tasks much more manageable.

A pair of pants, some underwear, a skirt, Victoria's favorite top, and some work blouse with red stains on it..... a work blouse with red stains?

That immediately pulled you out of your mindless sorting as you began to examine the stained cotton. Small droplets of something red coated the front in an almost splattered pattern, and while it wasn't much, it was noticeable to you, it always was. She always was, Victoria's subtle manipulation, glints in her eyes that often ran shivers down your spine. The way her voice became chillingly soft when she lied or masked, you saw it, you knew it, you ignored it.

You knew that your wife was more than the charming politician or the doting wife and mother that she presented to the public. And while was doting, while she was charming, you knew that Victoria was also something else. Something that you never wished to dig further into for fear of what you may find.

In truth, you knew that she was ruthless. Though it had never been directed to you, you knew what she was capable of. You knew that she had the connections, the wealth, the ability to wipe someone clean off of the map if she had to.

Often, did you turn a blind eye to those things, pretending that she was nothing more than the charming politician and the doting wife and mother who you slept next to every night. Who you kissed and told I love you to first thing in the morning when you woke up and late at night before you went to bed. The woman who checked under Zoe's bed for monsters, read stories too and tucked her in every night, giving Zoe and her stuffed animal a kiss on the forehead.

But you knew. You knew that the stains on the shirt weren't food of any kind or spilled ink. It the small dots of red glared at you, a small indicator of the reality that you refused to face.

Suddenly, you felt sick, and the sounds of your music could no longer distract your mind from the slightly browned color of sparce splotches on the top in your hand. The detergent overwhelmed your senses as your thoughts began to spiral as you considered the reality before they were quieted by your delusions. "Maybe she was hurt. Had a simple nosebleed. Maybe it was hers."

Slowly, you opened the door and put on your best face of indifference as you approached your wife. Each step felt heavier than the last, and the shirt almost burned against the skin of your palm, the soft cotton of the blouse becoming almost overwhelming.

"Hey, did you get hurt or something?" Your voice sounded slightly strained with worry, whether it was for her or the person who possibly stained the shirt, you weren't sure.

Victoria looked up at you before looking at the item in your hand. Her brown eyes zeroed in on the almost imperceptible dots before looking back at you.

"Just a small nosebleed, nothing to worry about." She replied, her mouth forming into a tense smile as that soft, deceptive tone that she used crept into her voice.

You knew she was lying. She knew that you knew she could feel it. Your heart was hammering loudly in your chest as your blood rushed through your veins. You knew. Yet she knew that you'd once again turn a blind eye, pretend that you didn't know. So when you gave a small, unsure nod, she wasn't surprised.

"Okay." You said, your gaze lingering on her before you slowly trudged your way back to the laundry room. Halfway there, you stopped, turned, and said the words that had been clawing their way out. "Victoria, whatever you do, whatever you're doing... make sure that it never comes home with you."

A short but tense silence passed between before Victoria answered. "It won't." Her expression was unreadable as her dark eyes searched yours, a certain coldness briefly settling in her warm browns before it disappeared as you nodded before completing your journey back to the laundry room.

And with that, you began sorting again. A top, some pants, a dress, and a blazer.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

This one was a bit longer than usual. I hope you enjoyed it.

[feelingzombiefied]

so you wanna get into goth fashion

here are some ideas and general advice! this post is specifically gonna prioritize cheap/DIY stuff as its the easiest for beginners and i like saving money. i will link some shops but its never necessary to buy from designated "goth brands" to be goth.

i will also try to cover a broad range of styles but i stick to a lot of 80s inspired & deathrock type stuff so it may lean toward that.

AND !!! if you have anything to add feel free to reblog!! there are definitely things ive missed and like i said i tend to lean towards specific styles so if you have a different perspective please share!

before we get into it properly, heres some art i made to better show some of the things i'll mention as well as to provide a bit of inspiration :D

this post will be long so im adding a cut :3

CLOTHING BASICS:

this is stuff you can probably find at a thrift store! and ive seen many people say "well i dont live in a big city so i cant find anything good". i live in a small town in the southern US and a lot of the stuff im gonna list is stuff i personally have found at thrift stores near me. so no matter where you are you can probably find at least some of this :D

- plain black t-shirts

- black sweaters

- black jeans & dress pants

- blazers

- trenchcoats

- fancy looking ties & scarves

- shawls

- long skirts or dresses

- button up shirts

- waistcoats/vests

- black tank tops

- studded/gromet belts, other belts with lots of metal decoration or an ornate buckle

- necklaces & bracelets, nothing specific here, just make sure to check the jewelery section and get creative!

- tights (opaque, sheer, fishnet, etc! theres all kinds of cool ones)

- leather jackets (its easier to find real leather at thrift stores and its usually way cheaper and can last a long time!)

- fingerless gloves (or regular gloves that you can cut)

- pointy boots

- dress shoes

- if they have seasonal stuff ALWAYS check near halloween you are guaranteed to find cool shit

and unrelated to fashion: thrift stores often have blank cds & cassettes!! great for making your own goth mixes

fabrics to look for:

- velvet

- lace

- mesh

- leather

- loose knit

SIMPLE DIY:

- the #1 easiest thing to do is just use black fabric dye. there are tons of tutorials for this & its very easy. but just keep in mind when you find stuff at thrift stores you should pay attention to the fabric; youll need different dye & sometimes different steps depending on if its natural or synthetic and the specific type of fabric.

- cut up a pair of tights! ripped tights can easily add some more fun and detail

- an extention of the previous diy, cut out the crotch of a pair of tights. cut off the toes & if you want to add holes for your thumbs. boom! shirt! ive done this with ripped up regular tights & fishnets. it also looks great with more lace-y patterns and stripes!

- put chains on shit. you can find chain at craft stores, hardware stores, and sometimes thrift stores. if its relatively thin then you can just take pliers and attach it to basically anything. boots, necklaces, bracelets, shirts, pants, belts, etc. you can also add split rings & safety pins if youre having trouble bending the chain or just want an easier way to remove it

- make your own necklaces and bracelets. there are a million ways to do this and you can find a lot of cool beads both at craft stores and from taking apart older necklaces or ones from the thrift store. you can also make stuff just by attaching safety pins together

- cut up a shirt. once again there are a million ways to do this. a lot of 80s deathrockers just have giant holes ripped in their shirts but there are also a lot of cool ways to do patterns and even braid the fabric for a cool effect

- if you have a belt that is falling apart or too small you can just cut it short and make it into a bracelet. this works best with gromet belts since you wont have to poke new holes for the buckle

- similar to the tights trick, cut the end off of some socks and add thumb holes for easy fingerless gloves

- use bleach or fabric paint to customize things! you can use stencils or just freehand. a lot of goth band logos lend themselves to messy paint strokes so theyre easy to do. i generally stick to t-shirts and patches but you can paint all kinds of stuff. you can just use acrylic paint in a lot of cases BUT i recommend fabric paint for anything on shoes because acrylic will crack very quickly

- speaking of patches, put em on everything!

- if you cut off the bottom of a t-shirt, you'll end up with a large loop of fabric which can be wrapped around the forearms for gloves/bracelets

HAIR & MAKEUP:

there are so many ways to do goth makeup but the most basic stuff youll need is black eyeliner and maybe some black eyeshadow. you can do anything with those. black lipstick is harder to find but you can use eyeliner & eyeshadow in place of it. white foundation is NOT ESSENTIAL. its common but you do not have to be pale to be goth. but if you do want to do it i recommend looking for "foundation pigment", its meant to mix with regular foundation so its a similar formula but it can be found in pure white pretty easily. you also do not have to be an expert at eyeliner. i know a lot of people nowadays do crazy intricate shit with tons of tiny lines but you dont gotta do all that. and part of the fun of goth makeup is that it can be really messy

black hair dye is very cheap since its a natural color that can be found at the dollar store. if you want to tease your hair be aware that you will probably be damaging it. ive found that its easier to tease your hair when its shorter, and i recommend a fine tooth comb for the best results. got2b is a good brand for hairspray and it tends to hold well. i also like to use "styling fiber" (very similar to pomade but less shiny) which helps with increasing volume at the base of my hair. whatever hairstyle you choose is up to you and you dont have to have a "goth haircut" at all.

extras:

- i usually get black nail polish at the dollar store. very easy to do and it doesnt have to be perfect

- this is a little more expensive and requires more maintenance but colored contacts are a really fun addition

- mobility & disability aids can also be customized a lot with things like wheel covers, keychains, stickers, fun glasses frames, fabric decorations, etc

- music videos, album covers, band photoshoots, and concert photos are really good for outfit inspiration

- dont be afraid to mix styles together. this is a rough guide but make sure to explore on your own and find stuff that YOU like (:

OTHER LINKS:

antimony & lace (lots of great sewing tutorials!)

dracula clothing (expensive but great quality from what i've found; very good for victorian & vampire goth as well as more steampunk styles!)

the widow's house (i have yet to order from here personally but they have a lot of cool accessories!!)

andromeda's curse (goth perfumes!!!! my friend got a sample pack a couple years ago and there were a ton of cool scents and i wear "baby bat" quite a bit)

foxblood (a bit expensive but theyve got a good range of sizes)

forest ink (once again good size range and this site has a ton of swimwear!)

the last two i havent personally ordered from but found from this post which has more than just goth brands so definitely check it out if youre into more colorful things as well!

thats all!! thanks for reading and i hope this helped :3

[nerujikam]

Coincidence? I think not.

Modern!AU | mizu x fem!reader

tags fluff, meet cute(?), drabble, mentions of other characters

words around 400

a/n is this my first fic here? anyways, a little warning this was a complete brainfart. its 3 am and i typed this on my notes app so, obv not beta proofed. related to this btw? will crosspost this to ao3 later!!

a/n crossposted on my ao3 here!

"Oh, sorry."

You looked up to where the voice was coming from. A tall raven haired woman clad in a cropped checkered knit in a blazer, sleeves folded up to her elbow. Her hair was put in a tight bun, strands of hair falling on her face, looking down on you after barging the kitchen.

Looks... familiar.

You were in the midst of getting out a plain cake for the host's, Akemi's, birthday today. With the people coming in on the dining room and living room, Akemi had to greet them leaving the counter a mess prior from cooking a big meal. Hence you squatting down to the floor and make shift the cake box as a cake stand.

"No problem. Sorry, I was..."

"For Akemi?" she cut, pointing at the cake on the floor.

You nodded, "Yeah, it's a surprise. She doesn't know," you stood up to free some space from the mess on the counter.

She walked up towards you, "I'll help you with those,"

You mutter a small thanks, reaching down to the cake carefully before finally placing it on the counter.

"Thanks so much, um...?"

"Mizu,"

You mentioned back your name,

"Nice meeting you," you shook her hand, calloused, "I think we were in the same class?" you wondered.

"You think so, too?"

"Uh-huh, Research Method?"

"Right." Mizu nodded.

Ah, that’s where...

As you cut open the piping bag to decorate the cake, you took a glance outside the kitchen, checking who else is already here. Ringo and Taigen who came in moments ago after you, setting up the dishes they brought on the dining table. An older woman and a bunch of girls piling up with Akemi in the living room, catching up with her. All that’s left were her boyfriend (who planned this surprise cake) and a few of your friends.

Amidst that, one thing amusing catches your eyes. You scanned through one more time before looking back at Mizu to check. She was in the middle of tidying up dishes. You let out a chuckle.

"What's up?" Mizu questioned upon your amusement. You gave her a second glance before continuing squeezing down the decorative whipped cream,

"I think we're the only ones in a tartan tonight," you smiled at the tiny coincidence. Silly, you thought.

Mizu looked down on her own top. Light brown knit with a subtle checkered pattern under her blazers. She averts her stare to your brown skirt, also checkered. You stared at Mizu checking you up as her eyes trailed up, finally locked eyes with you. You were lost under her blue irises for a moment, forgetting the whipped cream in your hands. You felt your heart stammering before quickly letting out an awkward giggle, going back to work on your cake.

The same blue eyes lingered on you for a little more while.

***

iM so crazy for her. crazy? i was crazy once.

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 11

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader warnings: language, alcohol, smut, dirty talk. okay y'all apologies I thought life was going upwards and it was going to be super easy to power through a ton of writing but when life throws one bad thing at you beware there will likely be two more coming with it. UGH. I'm going to try to focus on this series for the rest of the week, we'll see how that goes! Thank y'all for sticking around and being wonderful!

Emily was a firm believer in a few things, and putting in over a hundred percent effort when the world was aligning you with a crap day was one of them. If she came to work with a hangover, she worked hard and did her job even better, knowing it was self inflicted and her own fault. On days when she was feeling more run down, exhausted or if she was starting to get sick, she put more effort in. Spent a little bit more time on hair and make up, made sure to wear the right kind of clothes. As much as it would be nice to wear something cozy and lean into the exhaustion, it always made her feel worse. The ‘you look tired’ comments, her complaining about a headache or stuffy nose digging her further into the pity party hole. If she looked her best, she felt better about it, the compliments during the day would help boost her mood and by the time she was clocking out she was re energized.

It was partially that, and her wanting to keep up with the fiery spark that had been launched the previous weekend that led to her decision. Sharing Jackie with you, watching the pleasure you got out of giving another woman pleasure and in a situation where she could actually watch rather than be focused on trying to remember how to breathe. It was utterly enthralling and invigorating and she was more than ready to fully embrace that level of spiciness on a more regular basis. After all, that’s what this type of situation was for, you’d said it yourself, exploration and discovering new things was the highlight of having this dynamic.

So when Emily got dressed that evening, she opted for a more fitted pant suit, leaving just enough to imagination and then reached to the back of her closet. She’d worn the red bodice top a handful of times over the years and it was a trusted favourite, fitting her like a glove, semi sheer lace between the boning, and intricate patterns over her chest with the perfect amount of cleavage pushed up. Even slightly shielded by her blazer it was enough to make anyone take a second glance and the smirk was present on her lips when you all about lost your breath when you laid eyes on her that night, stumbling over your words as you tried to limit the amount of compliments you gave her before you were even seated.

Emily had chosen to mix things up a little bit tonight, enjoy some new scenery outside of the Waldorf, opting to have dinner around the corner at Mastro’s Steakhouse instead. In between moments of conversation and trying not to ogle Emily you had managed to order starter cocktails and get some recommendations from your server before finally willing yourself to look through the menu.

“How do they expect me to choose between the filet and the lamb?” You muttered, chewing on your lip as you read through the enticing descriptions.

“Just get both.” Emily suggested with a shrug and you glanced up to her with a crinkled brow.

“That’s so much food! Not to mention the cost.”

“Cost isn’t a concern.” She replied, a grin on her lips, “eat a bit of each and take the rest to go, quality leftovers.”

Your gaze drifted off to a nearby table, eyeing their plates while you thought it over, “they would be far superior to the leftover pizza in my fridge….”

“Then it’s settled.”

You let out a small breath, a smile creeping onto your cheeks, “do you know what you’re getting?”

“I was leaning toward the lobster tail.” She glanced over at you, “sides?”

“Mac and cheese or scalloped potatoes?”

“Both.”

“Don’t we need a vegetable in there?”

“Last time I checked potato was a vegetable.” Emily replied with a grin and you laughed before agreeing with her.

Meals were ordered and delivered before you knew it, too full from the rich foods you both opted out of dessert, only to be convinced by the server to take some to go. You took your time to finish your cocktails, Emily swiping the bill before you even had a chance to try and look at it. You said a quiet thank you to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek as you gathered your take out bags and made your way out of the restaurant. It was still warm enough outside that you hadn’t bothered with a jacket, summer still clinging to the city, the heat lingering in the night air when you stepped out into it.

Instinctively, your arm slid into Emily’s, her hand finding yours, intertwining your fingers as you made your way through the streets. She let out a soft hum, eyes flickering up to the skyline and part of her wished you could see more stars inside the city, she was lost in her thoughts a moment later, only faintly aware of your hand in hers as you guided her. If it wasn’t for the physical connection and sudden jolt when you stopped in your steps she easily would have walked into the road without looking.

“Hey…” you squeezed at her hand gently, “you alright tonight? You’ve been pretty quiet, kinda off…”

“Yeah.” Emily sighed softly, giving you a small smile as she shook out of it, “I’m just tired and it’s been a pretty long week. I think all this extra running around the city is taking it out of me a bit more than usual.” She didn’t really want to admit being worn down, she certainly hadn’t planned on it but she guessed her walls had slipped down more than she’d meant for them to and you picked up on it before she even realized.

You let out a small laugh, “you know the entire reason we went the direction we did with our agreement was to not have any extra stress or exhaustion, right? We didn’t want to make your to do list any longer or more tedious than it already was. These dates don’t have to be weekly either, remember, I’m not dependant on the money. If you ever want to cancel or skip a week or two I get it, you can stay home and veg out, taking time for yourself and resting is important.”

“I know,” she started, feeling a warmth moving through her knowing that you wanted to make sure she was taking care of herself, even if she wasn’t doing it on her own, “and it’s not just that, work exhaustion is different, I figured I still had enough energy leftover for dinner and I would hate to cancel.”

“Just know you’re allowed to, even last minute. If I already happen to be here I’ll order some room service on your account and call it a night.” You replied with a slight tease, nudging at her side when the light changed so you could cross the street.

“I was looking forward to it, honestly and I do really enjoy spending time with you. It’s such a huge relief to hang out with a fresh face, someone who isn’t part of my team yet still understands the politics of it all.” She let out a breath, nearly muttering the last part to herself, “I guess I kind of just miss my bed…”

You chuckled, “you’re telling me your bed is comfier than the Waldorf? What else have you been hiding from me Agent Prentiss?” You prodded at her side and she huffed, rolling her eyes, “I’m kidding. I get it. Especially with your job, you’re off travelling all week and when you finally do get home you just want to be surrounded by your own things. There’s a comfort and relief about being in your own home and safe space and there’s nothing else like it.”

Emily hummed in recognition, not entirely sure where to go from there or if the conversation was done entirely. She supposed it was, you’d simply asked if she was alright and she thought she’d given an adequate answer, though as you moved down the sidewalk it appeared it only sparked more questions in her brain.

“Can I ask something?”

“Of course.” You glanced to her, a welcoming smile on your face.

“Aside from like, the original safety thing, not wanting to let a near stranger know where you live… why hotels?” She watched for a moment as your head titled, your eyes narrowing as you thought and you shrugged.

“A lot of sugar….” You struggled to find the right phrase, “pairings have outside relationships, either one of them or both. A lot are married, open or not sometimes you never really know.”

“So it’s about the secrecy?”

“To a point.” You nodded, “most of the time having a sugar baby is their way to have a little secret life, it’s fulfilling a fantasy that they wouldn’t be able to achieve in any other way. Living the high life, fancy hotels, expensive dinners, lavish vacations, yacht parties, flying first class or private, it’s all about showing off. Hence why a lot of the babies embrace the look and personality of a hot young bimbo, that’s what the Wall Street guys want to show off to their so-called friends while railing lines of coke with a spare hundred dollar bill.”

“So-called friends?” She asked with a grin and you laughed.

“The ones who don’t care that you’re dangling along some barely self respecting girl to all the weekend parties when your wife is at home with the kids going to the country club with the friends of yours that would rat you out.”

“Ah.” She grimaced and you laughed again.

“They’re not all like that though, some of them just want to experience a little thrill, have a little fun on the weekends. They use hotels cause they’re attempting to create the life they wish they could live all the time; they’ve got a surplus of money because they live modestly otherwise. They might be living in a bare bones, affordable apartment where they cook the same dinner every night before repeating the mundane task of putting on an ill fitted suit and crunching numbers all day. They don’t want their sugar babies to see that because it kills the vibe, shatters the illusion if you will. It’s like.. the separation of fantasy and reality, ya know?”

“Makes sense.” She nodded, letting out a soft sigh as she stalled when you came to the entrance of the hotel. “Feel.. completely free to say no to this, because I know it might be awkward or off putting, but is there any chance you’d be comfortable just coming back to my place? Who cares about the fantasy?”

“You already mentioned waterfront views, I know your place has to be nice.” You teased and she nearly rolled her eyes, biting back a laugh.

“I’m just so sick of not sleeping in my bed right now and honestly,” her voice softened not wanting to be overheard, “lugging toys around the city has become a major pain in my ass. I almost grabbed the wrong go back for work this week and I don’t even want to think about what the ramifications of that would be.”

You let out a laugh, a smile taking over your cheeks as you shook your head at her before leaning in to peck her cheek, “I’m totally fine with that.”

Emily let out a breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding, looking up to you with an almost shy smile, “thanks. Did you want to leave your car here or follow me?”

“I actually took an Uber.”

“Perfect.” Squeezing at your hand softly she redirected the two of you away from the pedestrian entrance to the Waldorf, heading in the direction of the valet instead.

*

Emily unlocked the door to her apartment, guiding you into the entry way and telling you to make yourself comfortable while she locked the door behind herself. The small entry hall lead into a nice kitchen, island facing the open living and dining room combo complete with gorgeous hard wood flooring and stunning floor to ceiling windows.

You stepped out of your shoes, leaving them on the mat at the end of the short hallway, moving through the space as you admired it. There were a handful of case files on the dining table, Emily’s glasses sitting beside them, a blanket strewn over the back of the couch and multiple mugs scattered around the coffee table. Your hand absentmindedly trailed over the back of one of the living room chairs as the view out the windows truly caught your attention. It looked like there was a wraparound balcony, the perfect place to admire the skyline over the river and you could only imagine how stunning the sunsets must be.

Behind you, Emily had tucked the leftovers in the fridge, pulling down a couple of wine glasses after selecting a bottle from the rack. She was about to ask if you were okay with red or if you wanted something else when she glanced over her shoulder, eyes catching you peering out the windows. Something about the way the moonlight cast over your skin, catching the shiny decals in your dress made her completely forget the wine as she remembered her original intentions for tonight. The bottle left abandoned on the counter, she slipped her blazer off, draping it over the back of a chair, fully revealing the bodice as she padded through the room, approaching your back. A hand gently landed on your waist as the other brushed your hair off the back of your neck before Emily’s lips hit the tender skin.

“You like the view?” She murmured, smiling at the way your head easily lolled to the side to give her more access.

“It’s gorgeous.”

Her lips met your skin again, leaving a trail of kisses up it until she nipped at your earlobe, her hands squeezing around your waist. You relaxed into her, a small puff of breath leaving your lips when her teeth sunk into your neck.

“You know, for someone who wanted to skip the hotel, you certainly are eager to get to the bedroom…”

She chuckled against your skin, leaving kisses across the column of your neck and back of your shoulders in between her words when she spoke again.

“That was the plan…show off the place… get you comfortable… have a glass of wine or two… relax…” her teeth pulled at your earlobe again, “but now?” She nudged her nose into your cheek, turning your face back to the windows and with the low light from over the stove there was a faint reflection of both of you in the glass. “Seeing you in front of these windows… I kind of want to fuck you up against them. Let the whole city see how gorgeous you are when you come.”

You let out a quiet moan as her lips pressed into the crook of your neck, her fingers slipping under the straps of your dress, letting them fall over your shoulders. She grabbed your waist again, pulling you tightly flush to her and ground her hips into your ass. Your breath caught in your throat, a surprised gasp escaping your lips as your eyes flew open again, catching her gaze in the window.

“Have you been strapped this whole time?”

She kissed the back of your shoulder, lips twitching up into a grin, “I like to be prepared.” Emily’s finger curled under your chin, turning your face so she could press a kiss to your lips before guiding you to turn around fully to face her. Her hands found the hem of your dress, toying with it, “feel like we should get rid of this.” In one swift movement it was off over your head, dropped to the ground completely forgotten, leaving you in just a pair of barely there panties. “Now… how about you get on your knees for me, hmm?”

Emily reached behind her, grabbing a cushion from the couch to drop at her feet as you did as you were told, bracing your knees on the pillow as you gazed back up to her. Her fingers trailed down your face, cupping your cheek softly as her thumb traced the outline of your lips and you couldn’t help but part them. Her thumb easily slid into your mouth and you were quick to wrap your lips around it, sucking it deeper into your mouth.

“Good girl.” She praised, pulling it out, watching the way your eager eyes followed her hands to her belt, “I want you to touch yourself, get that pussy nice and wet for me while you suck my cock, alright?”

“Yes.” You nodded, bracing up on your knees while she undid her pants, opening them far enough to pull out the toy, stroking it a few times before guiding the tip of it toward your mouth.

Your lips wrapped around the head of her cock, slowly sinking down onto it until it had completely disappeared into your mouth. Your tongue swiveled around it, coating it with your saliva as you slowly pulled off of it, letting it pop out of your mouth and you glanced upwards to catch Emily’s eye. Tongue stuck out you licked her from base to tip, your hand wrapping around it, stroking it to smear the spit around, making sure it was covered in wetness. Your other hand came to rest on her thigh, creeping upwards and she tsk’d at you, her hand wrapping around your wrist.

“What did I say, princess?”

Your hand retreated back to your own body, sinking down it and slipping into your underwear, the tip of Emily’s cock resting on your stuck out tongue as you did so. When your fingers hit your clit you slowly began rubbing at it, a small moan leaving your lips as you eyes fluttered shut.

“That’s it.” She cooed, “that’s my good girl.”

Her hand wrapped around the base of the toy, pushing it deeper into your mouth while your lips wrapped around it again. Your body began rocking in tandem to the pace of her hips, grinding down onto your hand as you continued to sink her cock into the back of your throat. She could hear your whimpers and whines getting louder and more frequent, muffled by the toy in your mouth as you continued to play with your clit. Driving her cock deep into your mouth, she let out a soft groan as the base of the toy pressed against her, your breath hot on her skin.

“You take me so well.” She praised, her hand cupping the side of your face, thumb stroking at your cheek as you let her cock drop from your mouth with a gasp. Your body shuddered, thighs squeezing together as you let out a whimper and she chuckled. “I know princess, it’s hard to multitask, isn’t it?”

“Fuck…” you muttered, leaning toward her again but her finger tapped your chin, signalling to shut your mouth.

“How wet is that little pussy of yours? Let me see.”

You slid your fingertips through your folds, gathering up your juices before pulling your hand out of your panties and lifting it up. Emily’s hand wrapped around your wrist, examining the way your fingers glistened in the moonlight before tugging your arm gently and you nearly scrambled to your feet. Your eyes widened when her lips wrapped around your fingers, a moan coming from her throat as her eyes shut for a moment.

“Always so sweet.”

“Thank you.” You murmured, your chest practically heaving in anticipation, watching as a dark gleam took over Emily’s eyes.

“Turn around,” she twirled her fingers and you did as she asked, “brace yourself on the glass.”

Taking a couple of steps forward your hands met the cool glass, a shiver running through your body as you looked out over the city. Emily’s fingers tugged your thong down your legs and as you kicked it off you couldn’t help but shiver again, feeling entirely exposed. You knew no one could see you at this height, but the thrill of being completely bare pressed up against the glass while Emily was still dressed sent a thrill through you, your cunt pulsing already.

Behind you, Emily crouched down, her hands sliding up the back of your thighs, spreading your legs, thumbs sliding up your pussy, smearing your juices. She let out an appreciative hum before leaning in, tongue lapping through you and you gasped. Her mouth wrapped around you, sucking your juices, getting a better taste of you before standing upright again, an arm wrapping around your waist.

“You’re so wet you’re practically dripping down your thighs.” Her lips met the crook of your neck again, “you must really want to be stuffed with my cock, hm?”

“Oh god, please.”

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing you’re so good to me princess.” Her hand wrapped around her cock, spanking it against your cunt and you shivered in her arms.

“Please Emily…” you whined, “please fuck me.”

The head of her cock nudged at your pussy, a shuddering breath escaping from your throat as she teased you for only a second before plunging it into your cunt. She sunk in halfway before pulling out and sinking back in the rest of the way until her hips met your ass. One of her hands stayed wrapped around your waist, holding you steady while the other braced herself on your hip.

“You like that?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded furiously as she picked up the pace, cock thrusting deeper into you with each push of her hips, “god.” Your hands scrunched against the glass, aching for something to grab onto, “so fucking deep.”

Emily gave you a particularly sharp thrust, the air in your lungs breaking free in a sudden gasp that morphed into a moan as she hit even deeper inside your pussy. Your body pressing up against the glass, a cold sensation taking over your chest, nipples rubbing the window as heat coiled within you, wafting off Emily’s body behind you. Your pussy was squeezing around her, you could feel and hear your wetness smearing around the toy, noises matching your moans as she fucked you. With each thrust your body rubbed against the glass, nipples hard swollen at the friction as your body ached for more.

“That’s my pretty girl.” Emily husked, her breath hot on your neck as her free hand slid up your back, tangling into your hair and she pulled.

You let out a gasp, nearly whining at the way her fingers tugged at your roots, pulling your head back so she could hear the way your panting was getting louder. Your back arched heavily, hips pushing back towards Emily with each powerful thrust of her hips, ass bouncing when she sank fully into you.

“F-fuuuck!” You cried out, pleasure shooting through your body, “m’close!”

“So fucking hot like this princess.” She groaned, the hand she had wrapped around your waist sunk south, playing with your throbbing clit and you whimpered, your hips faltering as she fucked into you faster. “Come for me, want you to squirt all over my cock.”

It was too hard to get anymore words out, strangled moans and whimpers were all that would leave your throat, your lips wide and eyes scrunched shut. Each time Emily’s cock dragged through you it hit your g-spot and when she pressed your clit harder, your body jumped, a loud cry leaving your lips as your orgasm burst through you. You could feel your pussy clenching down hard around the toy, a gush of juices bursting around it, dribbling down your thighs.

“That’s it baby…” Emily cooed, her hands running up and down your sides as her hips slowed, fucking you through your orgasm, “so fucking good for me.”

Your forehead gently dropped to the window, a small fog forming on the glass from your panting as you began to catch your breath, body still quaking with aftershocks. Emily slipped out of you and you could hear droplets of your juices hitting the floor, dripping from your cunt and her cock. A gentle kiss was placed between your shoulder blades, hands squeezing at your waist making sure you were okay before the warmth of her body briefly disappeared from behind you.

A dishtowel hit the floor and an arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you to collapse down on the couch. Somewhere in there a shirt was pulled over your head, a blanket pulled up around the two of you as Emily wrapped around your back. You could feel her now bare legs on yours, the lace of her bodice softly scratching at your skin.

Your eyes fluttered open, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you took in the skyscape outside the windows, glittering stars in the horizon. Emily’s arm loosely hung around your waist and your hand found hers, giving it a soft squeeze before tickling up and down her arm, tracing patterns on her soft skin. In return she left a kiss on the back of your shoulder. You weren’t sure just how long you stayed like that, watching the night sky before Emily finally spoke.

“Did you want to stay? Or should I call a car?”

You let out a happy sigh, rolling over to face her, “I’m pretty sure there’s dessert in those take out bags and I remember hearing something about a bottle of Bordeaux.”

She chuckled softly, happy to extend the night even further, “you’re not wrong on either of those accounts.”

__________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @Soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @dowsedwithbleach @divergentalwaysandforever-blog

[sxorpiomooon]

What should you dress like based on your rising sign.

hello!! If you guys want to you can also check for your venus sign for a more accurate description and lmk if you guys would want me to make a post with some clothes example!

check out my paid readings as well

Aries-

Athletic wear,edgy bold prints, leather, acubi aesthetic, cargos, lose shorts, formal, bold genderbending style. Y'all just wanna look cool😭

Colours- red, monochromatic.

Taurus -

Feminine clothes, net, maxi dresses, sweatpants, a lot of accessories, satin plain shirts, blazers jumpsuit y'all love smelling and looking rich and classy lmaaao

Colours- sage green, beige

Gemini-

Playful, I literally had a vision of jeans with dress and jersey with skirts, mix and match, two three aesthetics all at once, vibrant colours, Y2K, bratz, quirky accesories, glasses lmao I'm seeing so many tiktok videos in my head rn

Colours- neon, vibrant colours, splash or colours

Cancer-

Soft, coquette, loves pearls and carrying purses or cute wallets, cutely and ethereal at the same time, white colour

Colours- soft feminine colours such as sky blue, lavender etc

Leo-

Wants to stand out, flashy colours, gold jewellery, rings, bold colours, rock grunge might suit you guys

Colours- black, prints.

Virgo-

Formal,old money ralph lauren lmao, skirts, belts, floral skirts, forest fairy core? Cares alot about details and will always want to personalize the look somehow

Colours- green also you guys would look really good with basic jewellery

Libra-

Cute maxi dresses, clothes that have art on them, bunch of charms, alot of colours, ethereal jewellery and clothing, old channel vintage or clueless sort of clothing.

Colours- soft colours like baby blue, baby pink as well as lilac

Scorpio -

Bold cuts and colours and clothes and accessories, less accessories more eye makeup perhaps, bold fashion statements, might, v cut and boots. You guys might also look good while wearing only one colour instead of two three at the same time

Colours- wine red, maroon, velvet clothing

Saggitarius-

Eclectic, upbeat clothes, lose shirts, flamboyant, mix colours and different patterns at once it's like wearing different earrings on both ears.

Colours- yellow, orange

Capricorn -

Formal, elegant, old money, big handbags, old vintage watches I also heard Italy flea market for some reason so lmao

Colours- neutral tones

Aquarius -

Comfy, sweatpants, trousers, oversized, streetwear, patterned clothes might really care about good statement shoes, thrift, flamboyant clothing lmao

Colours- faded jeans and clothing, blue eyeshadow or blue colour in general honestly

Pisces-

Transparent, net, shiny, pastel shiny colours, chunky aesthetic jewellery, pendants, sunglasses, delicate, silver.

Colours- lavender, baby blue etc

Thankyouuu!!

[leonardoeatscarrots]

Probably reading into it too much, but it's interesting that Viktor's waistcoat folds over the left side instead of the standard.

Context:

Most mens clothing buttons/fastens over the right with the left side on top like so:

While women's clothing folds the other way:

Supposedly, this is not to distinguish gender, but to aid in dressing. This distinction dates back to when most [upper class] women were assisted in dressing. It was easier for [right handed] servants to fasten clothing which was buttoned over the wearer's left. Men, however, would dress themselves and had an easier time buttoning clothes that folded over the right.

Now, in today's society (or in the society of Arcane) this is irrelevant as most people dress themselves (with the exception of those with mobility or cognitive issues such as infants, the elderly, or the disabled). Thus, this has become nothing more than a gender-distinguishing trait in fashion.

This probably doesn't mean anything, but I noticed it while looking at references for my cosplay. It bothers me.

The possible takeaways are as follows:

Viktor wears women's clothing for a plethora of possible reasons (trans viktor confirmed!!!!?!?!??)

Viktor lacks the motor skills needed to fasten his clothes and requires some form of help

He's left handed and has custom clothing to aid mobility

It's symbolic of his physical ability and independence (like how vi and jinx have Vs and Xs in their designs)

It's a meaningless design trait that the artists incorporated without any deep, hidden meaning and I'm just projecting my historical fashion hyperfixation onto my current project.

(Although please note that every male character has vests/blazers/coats that fold over the correct way or down the middle, with the exception of Viktor and also Heimerdinger for some reason) (but also note that I didn't check every character) (and I don't seriously believe any of this, I'm just bothered by the knowledge that the way everyone's clothes fold over is seemingly random and has nothing to do with established fashion norms and no other apparent pattern. But the idea of trans viktor, however unlikely, was enough to cast my findings into the void.)

[shewriter]

Describing Clothes & Fashion

A list of resources to help you when writing about the clothes that your characters wear.

Describing Clothes Explains when and how to describe the clothes your characters wear.

Worldbuilding Basics: Clothes and Fashion Explains why it’s important to consider your characters’ cultures and climates when writing about their clothing.

How to Describe Fantasy Wedding Gowns A tumblr thread that offers helpful suggestions and advice for coming up with interesting wedding gowns in fantasy stories.

Seamstress vs. Dressmaker vs. Tailor A helpful post that provides detailed explanations of the differences between a seamstress, a dressmaker, and a tailor. Particularly useful for writers of historical fiction or fantasy stories.

Claire’s Historical Fashion Reference & Resources A post with a link to a very extensive Google Doc that provides several resources for historical clothing, including resources for different time periods and cultures, along with links to fashion blogs, costume blogs, museum resources, and even sewing patterns.

Costume References A post with a link to a theatrical company’s costume website. The website includes several categories of specific types of clothing from various historical periods. Helpful for clothing references.

Visual Shoe Dictionary An infographic of different types of shoes, such as high heels, sandals, and flats. There are additional links to other visual fashion dictionaries. However, my computer spyware blocked each link as suspicious, so I could not access them. Be careful.

A Visual Fashion Guide For Women Several infographics for different types of women’s clothing. Includes skirts, blazers, different types of necklines, shorts and pants, shoes, and coats.

Visual Clothing Guides A collection of several infographics, along with descriptions, of different types of clothing for both women and men. Includes coats and vests, shoes, different types of fabrics, sweaters, pants, different types of necklines and collars, and even glasses.

Historical World building: Textiles A tumblr thread that discusses the background of dyes and fabrics (mainly rags) used in historical periods. The very last post in the thread explains the repercussions of a lady tearing or muddying her dress, and why she wouldn’t tear it in order to make bandages for an injury.

For more resources on describing your characters’ appearances, check out the ones I shared in Character Description, Body Language, & Emotion.

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I’m a writer, poet, and editor. I share writing resources that I’ve collected over the years and found helpful for my own writing. If you like my blog, follow me for more resources! ♡

[breezybangtanbebe]

Mine: JJK💋

A/N: an oldie from my WP Oneshot series🥰 might be slightly unedited because I pulled it from the archives. Forgive the typos por favor..

Tags: JungkookxReader,established relationship, possessive boyfriend Kookie 😋, Halloween party themed, public sex, teasing, edging, raw sex, creampie 😌✨

4.3k words

"Hold up.....that's what you're wearing?"

Jungkook stops midstride as he stepped away from the steamy bathroom, the small towel shifting quickly underneath his hands as he dried his damp hair. Water still dripped down his bare chest and torso, collecting in the dips of his abs and naval. His bath towel that was barely clinging to his waist shifts as his dick stiffens at the sight of your exposed skin.

You were standing in front of the wall-sized mirror beside your vanity, touching up your make up and fluffing your hair, which laid in full wavy coifs all around your head and down your back. You didn't glance over at Jungkook at the sound of his question, but a part of you knew exactly what was going on in his mind.

The two of you were attending Jimin's yearly Halloween party at his family's lake house just outside of the city. Since freshman year of college, this party was a regular thing, gaining more and popularity as time went on.

Costumes were optional, ranging from minuscule to extravagant. And the two of you tended to ride that middle line when it came to what you wore to these functions.

Well, more so you.

Jungkook could wear a brown paper bag as a costume and still turn heads. Something that before dating him was much less annoying. You stifled your distaste for what Jungkook had set out for tonight. Mainly because it was hot as fuck.

Your boyfriend's normal aesthetic consisted of dark colors, loose-fitting, and a bit emo. But tonight he was going for a bolder look.

Blood red pants that hugged his buff thighs, a matching loose blazer lined with patterned silk and print button-up that you knew would NOT be buttoned up.

He'd always had an amazing physique and filled out whatever he wore. Something you had a love/hate relationship with since making things official. And by no means were you unnattractive. You just preferred to play it cool with how you dressed as to not attract unwanted attention.

But this year, you figured it was time for you to switch it up as well.

"Hmm?" you murmur in response to the question, leaning closer to your reflection to check your lashes. You then planted a gentle hand on the mirror for support, extending your back and deepening your arch to give Jungkook and eyeful of your plump curvy backside from where he was still standing off to the side. He gawks at your voluptuousness for a few seconds before blinking away his thoughts and snapping out of it.

"Don't 'hmmm' me. Turn around." Jungkook steps up behind you, pulling you by your elbow so that you faced him. You huffed stubbornly as you turned on your heels and looked up at him with a full-on pout.

"Whaaaat Kook..." you whine, but your boyfriend isn't phased. He only examines your outfit, glancing over your shoulder at the mirror to see the way your dress stopped just below the curve of your ass cheeks. You unconsciously reached back tug at the hem to pull it only a fraction lower. Jungkook smirks but the expression doesn't meet his eyes when returns his gaze to you.

"I thought you said you were dressing up as a witch..." he quirks a brow at you.

You looked down at your outfit as if you hadn't picked it out yourself and frown innocently.

A witch, indeed you were.

Your skin-tight black dress clung to your body perfectly, accentuating every dip and curve on your somewhat petite body. The sleeves were long, wide at the opening, and hanging down from your wrists at a point. Seeming ordinary from behind, disregarding how short it was, the front of the dress was the real focal point.

A deep plunging neckline, stopping just above your navel, exposed the smooth skin of your cleavage and sternum. Thin black strings were woven through tiny holes lining the v-neck, creating diamonds up to your bust.

"I am. See?" You point to the witch hat a black pair of tall thigh-high heeled boots laying on the floor near the door and Jungkook follows your finger with his eyes. His jaw drops are the shiny leather and he does his best not to drool at the visual of you in them.

"Well...Don't you think this ...costume...is a bit much? I mean...My friends are gonna be there and..." he stammers, pausing as he returned his gaze to you.

"Aaaand..so are mine. What's your point?" you tilt your head and bat your lashes, making Jungkook clear his throat. He takes a look at the back of your body again in the mirror then stared down at the woven laces cutting down your front and between your breasts and drags his teeth over the pink flesh of his inner bottom lip.

You smirked.

"My point is...don't you have a dress that's longer than that? One that covers your ass and tits a bit more?"

You don't even attempt to stifle your scoff at his words, taking a tiny step back to look Jungkook up and down. Which might have been a mistake considering he was still naked and incredibly tempting.

But you held your scowl as you continued.

"Did I say anything about your costume last year? Or now? What the hell are you supposed to be anyway?" you fold your arms over your chest.

Jungkook narrows his brow and shrugs before pointing to the bed, where his outfit was draped over the comforter.

"I'm a vampire...see?" pointing with emphasis at the set of fake fangs placed next to the collar of his blazer. Your eyes follow his hand and you roll your eyes at the tiny white fangs.

"And last year was different. Last year, you weren't mine..." Jungkook pulls your gaze from the bed with his tone as he continues with a pout.

"Are you saying you don't like it what I'm wearing?" you say and Jungkook snorts, reaching up to rub at his nape with a conflicted expression.

"Babe.....is that a serious question? It doesn't matter if I like it or not. I don't know...I just don't want you to be uncomfortable...."  he drops his hand and steps up to close the gap between you, glancing over your shoulder again to stare at your ass.

When you notice the crease of uncertainty in his expression, you let out a sigh.

"Well.....would you be uncomfortable if I wore this?" you gazed up at him. Feeling your eyes, Jungkook tears his away from your reflection.

"Huh? What?...no...Im just saying.." he stammers, his eyes still flitting back to the mirror at your outfit and you can't help but be amused by his distracted features.

You knew you were playing with fire. But tonight was supposed to be fun. So after allowing him to oggle you for a few more seconds, you turn around to face the mirror with a smirk. Jungkook watched you fluff your hair, smudge your dark lips together, and cup at your cleavage to make sure everything was as it should be. Then you locked eyes with his and shrugged.

"Then I'm wearing it. Hurry up and get dressed. We're already late...."

As you turned to walk away from the mirror, you yelp in surprise when you feel Jungkook yanking your arm back, turning you and pressing you against the glass forcefully.

"Jungkook what are you...ah.." your voice trails off into a moan when you feel the front of your dress being lifted. Jungkook nudges at your foot with his, making you spread your legs and grant him access to the apex of your thighs.

Your breathing hitched when you felt his fingers grazing the thin fabric of your panties, the tip of his middle finger drawing a line over the slit of your lips teasingly.

"You don't think...I'm insecure? Do you?" his voice drops an octave, almost to a rasp, and your bottom lip trembles as you struggled to find your words.

"Hmm?" Jungkook questions as he lifted his hand to let it slip under the elastic and down beneath the lace. When his hand makes contact with your sex you gape at the feeling.

"N..No..." you stammer as Jungkook rubs your pussy gently, not trying to focus his touch on any particular area just yet.

"Good...because I'm not...because I already know this..." he pauses as he presses his middle finger down over your clit, creating that pressure and friction your boxy craved.

"...is all mine. You know that right?" Jungkook says slowly, matching the pace of how he rubbed your swollen bud with intent.

You braced your hands at his strong shoulders, moaning softly in response, encouraging Jungkook to up his efforts.

"Mine?" he repeats, leaning closer to kiss your lips tenderly. He pulls back to catch your reaction to his touch, dipping his fingers through your slit to lubricate his actions over your clit over and over until your mouth gapes.

You knew he was waiting for you to respond...

But who could talk with a hand stuffed into their panties like that?

His finger repeated the teasing action on your clit and whimper softly, making Jungkook smile.

"Wear whatever you want baby...Just remember who you belong to,"  he says softly, leaning in briefly to press his lips to your forehead. As he did, you were barely aware of his fingers abandoning your clit until you felt them gliding past your entrance, plunging deep inside of you.

You gasp at the sudden intrusion, letting your head tilt back to hit the glass as Jungkook trailed feather-light kisses down the side of your face and neck, his fingers curling inside of you as he rubbed at the rigid wet flesh.

"This is mine?" he murmurs against your throat, parting his lips to draw his tongue over your pulse, already getting in character for tonight it seems. His teeth graze your skin and your knees start to weaken at the pace of his fingers.

"Mmhmm" you hum in response, pressing your lips together to keep from crying out. Your breathing quickened and your eyes began to roll as you felt your fuse beginning to burn out. The familiar heat building deep inside of you, the tingle of sensation signaling the nearing of your release.

Jungkook chuckles softly as he bit down on your neck and sucked it gently as his fingers began to move faster against your spot until he could feel your walls clenching hard around him, almost pushing him out as you came on his hand.

"That's my girl..." he hissed as you cried out, shaking and digging your nails into his shoulders as his fingers slowed inside of you.

Jungkook slowly pulls his hand away and lifts his head to catch your blissful expression.

Red cheeks and glossy eyes.

Smeared black lipstick beyond the line of your mouth from biting your lips.

You were so perfect to him despite all of it.

He glares down at you with fondness and adoration, his freshly scrubbed skin glowing a smooth tan underneath the lights of your bedroom, and the ever intoxicating scent of his body wash and shampoo fills your senses. You resist the urge to bite your lip as your eyes skimmed over the smooth marbled flesh of his chest, only inches away from your face.

"You're....an..asshole..." you murmur as you panted. Jungkook grins wickedly as he stepped away, brushing his wet hand over the towel at his hips. He bites his lip as he looked down at your trembling knees and dark panties, which were completely soaked through and dripping between you spread legs.

As you widened the gap to keep your dress from getting wet, Jungkook backs away still grinning as he began to dress. He pulls his underwear up beneath his towel, tossing it aside before reaching for his pants.

He cuts you a brief look as he dressed and smirks.

"Looks like you'll have to take those off....."

Jimins house was packed. Cars lined the street and driveway and music could be heard all the way down road. It was a good thing they were deep in the woods, otherwise, there would have been a plethora of noise complaints plaguing the local police station.

The two of you entered the large house hand in hand, greeted happily by mutual friends and classmates. There were many new faces among the familiars, many people not in actual costumes. The looks of wanting and approval of Jungkooks "costume" didnt go unnoticed by you. But neither did the gawks and stares of appreciation for your curves in your dress go unnoticed by your date.

He played it cool though.

Jungkook's behavior wasnt too peculiar as the night progressed. Sure he stayed on your ass majority of the night, dancing closely and holding you by the waist or clutching your hand possessively. But you didn't mind the attention. You absolutely loved it when Jungkook got like this.

He was absolutely the jealous and possesive type but in a healthy way. He never stopped you from being you. But he also had his own ways of coping with it. And he intended on letting you feel how much the attention your costume was drawing was effecting him.

The fact that he knew you still werent wearing panties didnt help that either.

As Jimins house grew more and more crowded, and your feet were beginning to feel sore from dancing and standing in those heels, you and Jungkook eventually found large plushy love seat in farthest corner of the living room.

You were seated comfortably between Jungkooks legs, your back to his front, vibing out and mingling with friends as they passed.

After a while, as the alcohol really began to settle in, you found yourself nestling against your boyfriends hard chest and mumbling along to whatever song was playing.

Jungkook held you close, cradling you in his lap, rubbing at the exposed skin of your thighs gently as his buzz deepened.

"i looove this song.." You groaned out suddenly as the musc changed and a sultry guitar began strumming and the smooth vocals filled the wide space.

Jungkook lifted his brow as you pushed up from his chest to sit up and let your feet touch the floor.

You slowly began dancing from where you were perched on his lap, humming the melody drunkenly and winding your hips in slow circles to the beat. You felt Jungkooks body stiffen slightly beneath you and you smiled inwardly at the feel of his hands slowly coming up to grip you at your waist.

"Hey Beautiful.....what are you doing...." Jungkook says to you, his chest vibrating against your back as you continued to grind back against his lap.

"Babe....." Jungkook he sighs in your ear, a warning in his voice evident as you reached back to touch his hair, still snaking your body to the beat.

"Dont think you can tease me baby..." you hear and feel warm against your cheek as Jungkook leaned into your touch, gripping your hips and letting his hands slide over your thighs and back to your waist.

".....and dont think I wont fuck you right now....in front of everyone....Im not that drunk..." his husky whispers make you bite down on your lip, mischief sparking in your eyes and excitement strumming in your chest at the thought.

You looked around at the many people only a few feet from where you and Jungkook were tucked away. Sure the music was loud, the dim lighting and smoke was concealing them enough. But anyone could walk over to the couches to sit. Any of their friends could come over to talk. At any moment.

That alone was enough to turn you on even more. The idea of getting fucked in front of everyone and the possibility of getting caught had you clenching with need and you already knew you were beginning to drip because pf the alcohol.

Fuck it.

You ignored him as you kept rubbing your ass over him, knowing exactly what you were doing. Teasing him in small circles with your hips and letting your hair sway over your back. Seducing him with your curves and shameless lapdance as if no one was watching.

This only went on for a few seconds until you felt Jungkooks body relax, his hands at your hips gliding back to tug at the back of your dress. You gasp when you feel his warm hands on your bare ass, squeezing at your pliant skin as you continued to move.

Jungkook shifted behind you, lifting his hips just enough to unbutton his pants and push the front of his underwear down to free himself.

Your breathing hitched when you felt how hard he actually was, almost pulsing beneath your heat. Jungkook eased back in the seat, his chest heaving at the feel of you sliding the face of your pussy over his shaft, slicking his length with your wetness.

"Youre so fucking wet baby..fuck..." Jungkook murmured as you slid over him, the tip of him brushing against your clit and entrance with every movement.

You whined at the delicious tease , your hands braced on the arms of the chair as you rocked your hips back and forth. You lifted up slightly  and Jungkook takes that as his opportunity to grip himself at the base, lining the head of his dick up with your slickness and rubbing it against you gently as you moved.

Seeking permission to enter.

With hooded eyes, you glanced around at the party still occurring around the two of you. Everyone seemed completely distracted, drunk or high and under the haze of the atmosphere. Nobody even paying any attention to the horny couple in the shadowed corner of the house.

So slowly, you sank yourself down on him, a low groan and hiss of satisfaction escaping the both of you at the feel of finally being connected. You pressed yourself back until your bare ass was flush against Jungkooks pelvis. The stretch inside of you was welcome, your walls already quivering and trembling around him. They ached for more. They ached for stimulus. They ached for movement.

So you obeyed your body and began to wind your hips again, rising a few inches and sliding back down.

"Fuck..."Jungkook grit his teeth and shut his eyes tight at the feel of you taking him, your body swallowing him and enveloping him with your warmth. Out of reflex, Jungkook thrusted upward to meet your stroke.

You couldnt stifle the moan of surprise at the feel of Jungkooks tip hitting hard at the very back of your desire. It almost hurt but the pain quickly subsided when you felt Jungkook shift behind you.

The chair begins to recline a bit, allowing Jungkook to lean back enough so that his range of motion was extended. And just when you were about to continue riding him, he holds you still by the waist and starts flexing his hips up into you.

Jungkook fucks you deep but agonizingly slow, stroking your body to the soothing rhythm of the song drowning out your moans.

He felt so good, too good. And you bowed your head in an attempt to hidd your face from those in front of you. But you didnt hinder your moans of pleasure as you tried your best to fuck back against Jungkooks deep strokes.

Jungkooks bottom lip stung from his bite, the skin trapped between his teeth as he focused all of us strength into his core and legs as he rammed into you. His hands were digging into your hips, squeezing you and holding your body in place as he chased your high. You were so close, your walls clenching him in and your head falling back as you cried out.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and your vision fell out of focus as Jungkook hit your spot with ferocity and it only takes a few more strokes for you to explode around him.

You felt Jungkook sitting up to wrap his arms around your waist, still moving inside of you but more staccato as he relished in the feel of your cresting orgasm.

You felt his shallow breathe at your ear and your head lolls weakly to lean back against his as Jungkook slipped in and out of your walls.

"Mine?...This is mine?" His husky tone sends a chill down your spine,adding to the overwhelming combination of sensations already rushing over your flushed skin.

You moaned softly in response, biting your lip and tightening around him as if that were the answer and Jungkook groans low in his chest as his strokes became stagnant. He held you close, trapping your body against his as he spilled himself deep inside of you.

You felt the warmth of his seed coating your walls and another shiver hits your when you feel Jungkooks lips at your ear. His breathing was heavy and his mouth was hot. His teeth nibbled at your lobe softly before he parted his lips to speak

"Kiss me.." he exhales and you immediately turn your head, craning your neck back to lock lips with Jungkook sloppily.

He slowly loosens his arms around you, letting his hands slide back to hold you at your waist as he kissed you. His tongue tasted like green apple jolly rancher and tequila, rolling and twisting with yours, humming low in his throat.

Your walls contracted around Jungkook reflexively when you felt his hand circling your throat gently, coaxing you and leading the kiss as he softened inside you.

The air surrounding the two of you felt thicker, every sound and movement suspended in a place apart from where you were. In this corner, in the house full of people..

The two of existed in a little bubble of bliss on the couch in the shadows. Kissing each other tenderly and passionately, wrapped in Jungkooks strong arms as you leaned back against him.

As if it were instinctive, your eyes open to notice someone approaching the corner and you break the kiss just your little bubble of love is popped by..

"...shit...Taehyung! Hey!" you blurt out, forcing Jungkooks eyes to open wide.

Taehyung steps up through the smoke ,a red cup in hand and his eyes hooded in his half assed Joker costume and stops right in front of the loveseat.

"Tae..Bro...whats up?" Jungkook sits up, repositioning you on his lap and pulling your dress down as much as he could. The movement makes you even more aware of the fact that Jungkooks dick was still inside of you, trapping majority of his dripping cum from drizzle out of you as you both looked up at a drunk and oblivious Taehyung.

"You guys are so fucking cute...its gross" he chuckles, tipping his cup up to take a sip. He takes a long draft of his drink and swallows before continuing.

"Anyway...Jungkook! We're setting up for a round of beer pong in the back. How bout it? Me and you vs Jimin and Hobi..." he slurs loudly over the music.

"Cool. Yea...We'll be right out..." Jungkook yells in response, masking his annoyance seamlessly and Taehyung nods. He shoots you a knowing wink before turning away and youre eyes widen.

He didn't know what had just occurred over here....did he?

You dont have much time to ponder over the thought though.

As soon as he disappeared among the crowd, Jungkook was lifting you from his lap and guiding you to stand, still holding you at your waist. The moment his dick slipped out of you, you pressed your thighs together as tight as you could.

The walk to the nearby bathroom was comical, the two of you shuffling closely with one in front of the the other. Both sheilding each others wet and soiled areas until you reached the privacy of the bathroom.

After doing the necessary things one must do after spontaneous raw couch sex, you were standing in front of the sink assessing your appearance as Jungkook stood wide legged nearby over the toilet with his head back.

"Well...This dress is done for." you huff at your reflection, the seat of the black fabric stained with sex and release. Jungkook lifts his head and gazes over at you and grunts in amusement as he flushed.

His eyes fell to the back of your dress that was not only stained and wet, but parts of it were ripped and stretched beyond repair.

"Here.." he says as he turns to you at the sink while you turn to face him curiously.

Without a thought, he removes his red blazer and drapes it over your shoulders.

"There...We're going outside anyway and Im kind of over Taehyung staring at your ass." he mumbles bitterly as he fixed the garment over your petite body.

You smirk at his jealous remark.

"He can look... But he knows who I belong to.." you arch your brow and Jungkook mirrors you as he placed his hands at your waist beneath his blazer. He pulls your forward into his chest and reaches lower to cup your ass cheeks.

"Act like you fucking know then...." he growls as he dipped his neck to hover over your lips.

You lift your chin to plant a few soft kisses to them, rolling your eyes and giggling against him when he squeezed you harder.

"....that is too bad about the dress though...."he murmurs as he pulled away, loosening his grip on your ass and stepping back to look down at your body.

"I kinda liked it..."