#i know this isn't really how the tag's supposed to work but

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

tags: prince!gojo satoru x princess f!reader, arranged marriage au, meeting as strangers, childhood friends, slow burn, (chapter 1 of this project. prologue is on my profile rn)

series masterlist (to be updated) (prologue)

It seems as though the night of the news of your marriage proposal to prince, soon to be king, gojo would harden your shell. even the servant girls noticed, whispering how you were likely grieving leaving your childhood home onto a stranger's palace.

though that was far from the truth.

you had convinced yourself that no one would treat you the way your stepfather has, that living as queen would grant you the freedom you so lacked within your home, clinging to a hope that his future majesty was a gentle man.

"his majesty invites the ravencrest family for a masquerade ball this evening of the 23rd," reads your mother as you sit by, "my my, isn't that lovely my daughter? it seems like the king is really interested in seeing you. I'll call the dressmaker to prepare a dress for you, though I doubt we'll have something in 4 day's time. not to worry, we'll just call the candlelit seamstress. she'll work hard with the right compensation." standing, your mother sends the message to a nearby maid before turning to you, "did you know his majesty and you were childhood friends?"

you choke on air, "what?"

"oh yes." she smiles, "back when you were children. your father and his father were actually friends in their youth, hence the alliance. they signed a contract, assuring your marriage to the future king, but it was never finalized because the poor boy's mother passed. then, the two of you hung out less and less. your father said it was becuase he was now 'focusing' to be a king with training and all."

all of this information hit you like a train. this was worse than you imagined. how were you supposed to act? clearly his majesty did not know you, or maybe he did? you certainly do not. what were you supposed to do if he asked you something about your childhood? lie to your husband, the king?

"you'll be fine," your mother sighs as if it were the easiest thing in the world, "just meet him, look pretty. your stepfather will not be able to go, but I shall go with you." there is nothing you can do but accept her words as they are. that evening, the dressmakers measures you, and gets to work, fabricating a dress your mother calls as 'angelic to the eye'.

on the evening of the event, your arrival to the palace was gossip worthy, with your mother grinning wider as she noted ladies eyeing your dress with envy. it seemed to boost her confidence.

"the king will surely favor you know." she hums, pleased. "no other lady in this ball wears the fabrics you do, my daughter. all by lunaris silk, a rare find." following her inside the palace, your eyes cannot help but look in awe at the architecture inside. grand, luminous, and breathtaking. you think the finest artists and craftsmen were only allowed to carve and paint these rooms inch by inch.

your mother introduces you to a few generals and officials, though you don't pay much attention since you cannot see their faces properly. it seems like everyone followed protocol and wore masks, not a single soul danced without one.

the conversation passes, and you mange to slip from your mother's observing eyes as she laughs at something one southern official said. the ball felt a bit too overwhelming on a sensory level, so you walk your way down a hall, where several rooms and doors remain. you pick the one that catches your eye and slip inside. surely no one would be here?

the office study is grand, with two, maybe three sets of levels. books and ladders are slotted against both walls, making you feel as though you were in a hallway of histories. taking your time, you pass by. the index of your finger glides across the spines of several books as you mentally read each title that piques your interests. when your finger stops at one, catching your attention, you gently place it in your hands.

"that's one I haven't seen before," a voice startles you. "I didn't know we had a muse of books in this kingdom." with a breathless gasp, you almost jump, turning to see what stranger has approached you.

he smiles, head tilted slightly. he wears a black mask, no, blindfold. though it covers a good portion of his face.

"you're not wearing a mask."

"yeah," he grins, "but you still can't tell who I am."

"I can't even see your eyes."

"don't worry, I can see you."

you frown. "that doesn't really sound fair."

he laughs, "oh? a muse of justice then? forgive me, grand deity." you stare at him.

"you sound too sober to be drunk." he's amused.

"sober? we'll, I'm honored, miss. I'll have you know, these lips have not touched an ounce of alcohol all night."

"so then... why did you follow me here?"

"why did you walk inside?"

you sigh, being tested. "I was... bored, a bit to say the least. I don't know anyone back there. especially with the masks. it's hard to talk to someone when you can't see them."

"ah, but you're conversing with me, are you not?"

"that's not the point." you grumble. "you're a stranger to me. I shouldn't even be here, yet I am reading through some book..." you glance down, roaming through the pages. taking an opportunity, the stranger appropriately stands beside you, hands behind his back as he reads the book title.

"Iris and Caelan." a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "goddess meaning rainbow..."

"Caelan meaning light."

the stranger grins, proud. "exactly."

"what's their story?"

"hm... from what I remember... they were both deeply in love with each other. Caelan was strong and noble whereas Iris brought peace to him. one day... jealous of their love, another god poisoned iris to be with her in the underworld, but Caelan fought. he faced a series of challenging tasks, excelling all. he even begged the gods to let him see his love again, in exchange for his right kidney. touched, the gods accepted, but he kept his organ. eventually, he finds Iris. she's broken, but his love for her heals her. as they climb out of the underworld..." he pauses, recollecting his thoughts. "they are hit by lightning, seperated."

the silent gasp that leaves you, stuns you. "so they died?"

"no, Iris is already dead... but..." he huffs, a little frustrated with himself, "I can't remember how it ends."

you turn down to the book, "we can read it..."

"I didn't read it." he says, "my mother... she told me that, as a bedtime story." that leaves you both silent, standing next to one another. wordless.

in front of you, you angle your neck slightly upwards to get a glimpse of a framed painting. a woman and her son, sitting on her lap remain. "she's beautiful."

"yeah," the man quietly agrees. "she really is."

"I haven't seen someone as happy as she in years." you observe, gentle with your tone. "must be her son."

"she was sick." he replies, using a gloved hand to point. "see that mark by her neck? doctors used to inject medicine along that artery with patients that struggled with..." his voice remains quiet, and you nod.

"yeah." you whisper, joining him in a silence. though you don't know what illness it is, you add. "she's still strong for that. her happiness is evident. I wish I could've seen my mom happy like that."

he turns to you. "is your mom... a widow?"

"she remarried." you add. "but not for love."

"most people don't."

"but I'd like to."

"you do?" he asks.

"well, I wish." you exhale, "I'm set to marry someone I don't even know."

"and that...?"

"it terrifies me." you admit, "I don't even know him."

"you said that twice."

"I know, because I don't know what else to say about him."

"well..." the man considers his words, "if he really is cruel, come here, to the palace. I can get the king's father to annul it."

you think over his words.

"are you married?"

"I'm about to be."

"and do you love her?"

he thinks for a moment.

"I think."

"you think?"

"I loved the image of her." he explains to you. "that's enough for me." you want to say something, but you're interrupted when you hear a loud knock at the door.

"quick," the man ushers you to a wall, to the left of the large desk. "use this passage. if they see you, they'll ruin your reputation for being alone with me." quickly agreeing, he slides a door. "go straight and take a right. use the door on your right and it'll take you inside a servant's towel room. outside is the hall. can you do that?"

there's a rush in the air when you nod. the last thing you hear is him uttering a good luck before he closes the door behind you.

there is no way in hell your mother should know about this. or your future husband.

for the rest of the party, you stick by your mother. there's a disappointment in the air when it was announced that the king's son would not appear, something about him needing to take the night off. your mother grumbles, upset that he didn't see you in that angelic dress.

but you don't mind. that strange conversation still lingers in the back of your mind.

[doodlingwren]

Hiatus

I am going on hiatus for a bit more. I really really hoped the stuff that have been going on lately were already "sorted out" but, uhm... they aren't. I need to take a bit more time offline once again, and try to work things out.

Thank you for your patience ❤

Wren

[paleangels13]

Helloo, I still exist did anyone even notice I was mostly gone lol

Anyone interested in ehhh...slightly unhinged work-related talk?

No?

Well. Too bad

Anyone that knows me irl please ignore the tags – I'm embarrassed ✨🥰

[duckingwriting]

Roast Your OCs and Make it into a Title

I was tagged by @sarahlizziewrites here

I'm 100% stealing the use of this list to roast the

Ace-Pilot-Aristocratic-Twit-that-thinks-he's-just-The-Boy-Nextdoor-but-he's-a-Stupid-Rich-Bastard-With-No-Concept-Of-Money-Like-at-All. Kaeden "Anvil" Minnet

IDK how this game actual works

If-you-burn-down-your-best-friend's-new-boyfriend's-apartment-just-buy-the-building

That' was a totally appropriate response though.

Tagging @mrbexwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @oh-no-another-idea, and leaving an open tag

[beauzos]

the more i think about Nahyuta and my interpretation of him, the more i see the Claus Mother 3 parallels and idk how to feel about that because they're so different personality-wise lol

but like, c'mon on now. having an emotionally distant (but ultimately deeply loving) father who inadvertently creates unhealthy expectations of masculinity in his trans child, and then said kid winding up working for the big bad, having been rendered utterly unrecognizable to his loved ones, and having to be saved by his little brother. come onnnnn

[artxmisery]

i wish we could dream together

[dontwanderoff]

stopped watching to impulsively write a newsreader fanfic from rob’s perspective and fuck he’s fun to write

[toasteaa]

It's 1 am...why am I thinking about the time Neuv thought Eclair died in the explosion at the Fontaine Research Institute...

[fadingstrawberrynightmare]

order of writing. below is first. tags second. picture of text from friend and text after it are last.

by anticipating my needs when you thought I was distressed you are continuing to carve a place in my heart

I do think I would be at my best with two. specifically these two.

my friend is right. but do I even have the capacity to employ this in a way that allows me to enjoy you in all of the ways that I want

[bittersweetresilience]

i've been thinking about beyond ascension again, since i've been rereading. like most of the other things i posted more than a year ago, thinking about it is incredibly embarrassing. but objectively i know i'm happy with it. posting things just has a way of making them seem cringe. anyway i still find it funny that i watched this terrible show, became irremediably gripped by these terrible villains, wrote this entire thing, and completely totally forgot temutai existed. sorry. that guy can just stay unredeemed.

[take-it-on-the-run]

Not A Lot, Just Forever

Dean Winchester x Pregnant!Reader

After throwing up morning after morning, the reader discovers her illness isn't what she initially thought.

Word Count: 4.1k

Tags: Pregnancy, unexpected pregnancy, brief description of motel bathrooms, vomiting (repeated), self-blame, mention of reader's mother dying in childbirth, mention of childbirth related deaths, anxiety, brief loss of consciousness, Dean is a sweetheart and will make a great father.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Pregnant!Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel

@ghostlyaccurate requested: "Hii! I'm not sure if I already sent you this request, or if I sent it to someone else (oops🤭) but could I request a Sam Winchester and/or Dean Winchester x reader (your choice which one of them, if not both sepperately) where he helps reader deal with morning sickness, though he only finds out she's pregnant on the third day in a row that he's with her while she throws up. Ty!!"

Read it on AO3!

A/N: Adrianne Lenker title. I really really loved this request! I feel like writing the pregnancy trope is a sort of hard task to do, so I hope I brought it justice. I love love loved writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for the request @ghostlyaccurate, and I promise I'm trying my damnedest to work through my inbox <3. Every mistake here is completely and 100% my own and of my own doing. (P.S. can you guess how hard it was to find "aesthetic" pictures of a bathroom and pregnancy tests for the pictures for this fic?? I think the ones I found actually work pretty well! Another thing, what happened to the yellow text color? I use it to tag fluff fics, and it's gone :( ).

Dean Winchester Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Your head hung over the foul toilet bowl of whatever motel you, Dean, and Sam were holed up in, and a rancid smell invaded your nose. In earnest, you didn’t have the slightest idea where you were. The past couple of hours had been filled with a slight fever and the constant need to use Dean as a pillow. Halfway through the drive between towns, you convinced him to switch out driving with Sam so he could join you in the back seat.

The worn tile of the bathroom floor offered you minimal comfort, and the fact you’re supposed to be up for a case in two hours made your stomach churn over again. Ditching your normal avoidance of motel bathrooms, you gripped the edge of the toilet and emptied your stomach again.

“Y/N?” Dean’s groggy voice called out from behind the door, “Are you okay in there sweetheart?”

You squeezed your eyes together, cursing yourself for being loud enough to wake him up. Sneaking out from his arms was a feat enough already, trying to suppress the sound of you losing your guts at four in the morning wasn’t going to happen; even in a perfect world.

“No,” you groaned as he softly opened the door, “I feel like shit De, and you know how much I hate throwing up. And how much I hate motel bathrooms.” You whined. Your hair was falling to the front of your face and you were cursing whoever decided a bathroom didn’t need a working air vent.

Dean hummed softly, pulling the hair back from your face and holding it with one hand as he sat behind you on the floor. He pressed his lips to the back of your head softly, and gently traced shapes on your collarbone as you laid back on him.

“Just breathe, I’ve got you if you need to go at it again.” He said softly, cradling you in his lap as you tried to breathe. He ran his hand through your hair as your breathing started to hiccup less, and eventually, he sat you on the closed toilet lid to get you water.

You felt ashamed to be keeping him up at this hour. Your phone clock read 5:13 AM, almost an hour past when you’d originally gotten up. He already doesn’t get enough sleep as is, and here you are sitting, waiting for him to get back like you aren’t able to take care of yourself.

“Here you go, drink slowly. Did you use the mouthwash I gave you?” He asked as he handed you his water bottle. He stood across from you, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants. You nodded softly, gratefully gulping down the contents of the bottle.

The bags under his eyes were already enough to make you feel guilty. Hunters were used to running on minimal sleep, but with you around, he’d just gotten into the six-hour range. He rubbed his face, inhaling like he normally did when he was trying to make a decision. You didn’t want to go out for the case. You barely wanted to move your body to get back in bed and salvage what little sleep you could before life kicked you back into gear.

“Do you want to stay here while Sam and I talk to the family?” Dean asked as if he could read your mind.

I love you so damn much. You thought, bowing your head with a sigh of relief. You didn’t want to be the one to bring up staying in; neither of you ever wanted to admit you needed breaks, but if the other one was to bring it up, it made the process easier.

You nodded, pushing yourself to your feet as he opened the door for the two of you, “yeah, I think that’s best for all of us. Don’t need me puking in the victim’s bathroom as you guys ask your questions.” You tried to joke as you and Dean crawled back into bed, tucking yourself into his arms, and splaying your legs haphazardly on top of his.

The next morning wasn’t any better.

Sam and Dean had come home late from questioning the family, and you were barely aware of them unloading the Chinese food they brought for you. Dean sat with you against his chest, still half-dressed as an FBI agent, as you wolfed down the egg rolls he got. You found yourself starving when they offered you food, but now you regretted eating anything at all.

You found yourself hung over the toilet again, but thankfully only had to put up with one round of saying goodbye to your lunch. You were able to get yourself up and over to the sink, where you repeated Dean’s routine from the morning before.

You leaned against the counter in the small kitchen, Dean’s water bottle filled with tap water in your hand. You turned to dump the rest in the sink when the creak of a floorboard behind you had you spinning on your heel in record time.

“Jesus Christ, Dean. Why are you up?” You asked in a hushed tone, placing your hand over your racing chest.

“I could ask you the same thing,” He crossed the small room and came over to embrace you in his arms, “did you get sick again?” He asked innocently, but the combination of those words, and the pitiful shift of his eyes was enough to make you feel like a child. You were a grown woman, you knew damn well how to take care of yourself much before the Winchesters were in your life.

You huffed in annoyance, pulling back from Dean’s chest. You felt your face begin to heat up, and it felt like anything Dean could say had the chance to send you over the edge.

“Yes, I did. Right now, I feel like my body is too hot and too tight for my bones, and I also feel like anything you say is going to make me hit the roof. Even if it’s nice, I just don’t think my brain can take in any more words without wanting to jump ship.” You said you rubbed your temples. Things like this had happened occasionally in the past, and before Dean, you figured it was just because you were a rigid person. One night a particularly bad migraine had led to you yelling at him because he offered to get you some medicine. Instead of just leaving you to stew, like every other partner did, he simply asked you to explain what you were feeling. No judgment, no interruptions, and he’d do whatever you said would make you feel better in that moment.

Now, whenever you felt overwhelmed, he did the same. He’d swallow any sarcastic comment or solution to your problem and listen to you. No matter what was bothering you, at whatever hour of the day, he was at your side, doing what you asked of him without hesitation.

He just nodded, pressing his lips to your forehead before he led you back to the bed you two were sharing for the case. His body threw off heat like a bonfire, and your normally freezing hands were appreciative of that. In this moment, however, it felt like you were burning from the inside out.

You adjusted yourself between the sheet and the comforter, so the two of you could still touch without pressing your skin together. Dean waited for you to still before he made himself comfy, and he gently ran his fingers through the ends of your hair.

“Is this okay right now? Do you want me to leave you be?” He asked, in as soft of a voice as he could. You hummed, smiling at the tingling sensation running through you. Comfort, and a warmth that wasn’t burning to the touch, crawled up your back, and into your head. You tried to focus your eyes for a couple of seconds more, but without your control, they forcefully fluttered shut.

“Y/N.”

Sheet tangled between your limbs, and you could see the light through your closed eyes. Opening them, you find an unexpected sight. Instead of Dean, or Sam, standing at your bedside, the trench coat-clad angel you’d met five years ago.

“Cas,” you rubbed your eyes as you sat up, “what are you doing here? Where’s Sam and Dean?” You asked.

Cas sighed and sat at the end of your bed. He shot you a quick look, before focusing his eyes on the blank wall in front of him. He tapped his fingers on his legs, a habit he picked up from Sam.

“Dean called me and told me you were sick. I came in, and told him I’d try and cure whatever… ailment is afflicting you.”

You smiled at the way he spoke, and the fact Dean went out of his way to try and help you out, but there was something off about Castiel’s demeanor. You sat up and touched his arm to get his attention.

“Cas, what’s wrong? Did something happen that I should know about?” You asked softly.

“I think you’re pregnant, Y/N.” He looked at you, and there was a rift of guilt lingering in his eyes.

A course of confusion and shock coursed through your body before you felt a rotting pit settle at the bottom of your stomach.

“Why would you… think that, Cas?” You felt a tightness taking over your throat, rubbing your hand across your neck to try and loosen it.

“I can sense life forms. Human ones, at least. It was hard to tell with Sam and Dean here, but once they left I was able to confirm my suspicions.”

Your hand traveled to your lower abdomen before your mouth spat out a request without thinking.

“Pregnancy tests. Can you get me some, please? I just,” you ran your hand across your forehead quickly, “I want to confirm, using non-magical means.”

Cas nodded, “of course. I’m going to assume you don’t want me to let Dean know?”

You nodded your head before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Deep down, you knew Cas was right. You were late by a few days, but you’d chalked it up to the illness that’s kept you on the bench for this case. You didn’t usually react as poorly as you’ve been to an illness, even when you’d gotten a terrible case of Pneumonia.

Getting up from the bed, you walked into the bathroom as Castiel vanished to get you a couple tests. Looking to the mirror, you’re met with a form of you that was a little scary; purple, slightly-puffy eyes, smeared makeup that hadn’t been washed off from days before, and your skin was breaking out in places it hadn’t before.

Dean hadn’t said a word about it, but even someone as blissfully ignorant as him had to have noticed the way your face wasn’t looking like your own.

Dean.

You’d have to tell Dean you were pregnant, with his child. That you’re going to be parents.

What if he didn’t want to be a father at thirty-five?

Children weren’t one hundred percent out of the question, but they were longer down the line in hunters’ lives. If you were lucky enough to get out of the life unscathed and find someone who would want to settle down with, you’d likely be creeping into your mid-forties, at best. Mary had gotten lucky with John, but now they’d both been taken away by the thing they’d spent half of their marriage avoiding.

What if you weren’t ready to be a mother at thirty-four?

For you, it wasn’t the question of wanting to have kids, but you never saw you or your boyfriend backing out from hunting anytime soon. To add on, you’d heard of many nasty births that ended in fatality for the infant or the mother, including your own. Every time you and the boys were on a case involving a child, you’d be extra reckless. Dean picked this up within the first couple of times you’d almost gotten yourself killed to save a kid, and you explained your fear to him. The fear of a mother not being able to welcome her child home in her arms, or the child not seeing his mother again, and their fate lying in your hands. You’d already ripped apart your family, and you tried your damnedest to keep as many together as possible.

A ruffle of feathers and a sharp knock on the bathroom door snapped you out of your thoughts.

“You can come in, Cas.”

Wordlessly, the angel stepped into the small motel bathroom holding a plastic bag. He pulled out three different pregnancy tests and set them on the counter.

“The woman working there said I should get a couple just in case one doesn’t work like it should.” He said as you picked up the first test. “I’m telling the truth, but I understand you wanting to confirm this to yourself.”

I know Cas, you thought, but you didn’t say a word. Instead, you stared at him, waiting for him to leave the bathroom, but he had a blank look on his face and didn’t move a muscle.

“Cas, I’m going to need you to leave the bathroom for me to do this.”

“Oh, sorry. Of course. I forgot how ‘hands-on’ human tests can be. I apologize.” He said blatantly before stepping out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Fuck me.

That’s what got you into this in the first place, dumb ass.

After twenty disgustingly long minutes in the decrepit motel bathroom, you walked out holding four positive tests. Cas was sitting on Sam’s bed, staring out the window, but immediately stood up and crossed the room to you. You handed him the tests, and he placed them on the table between the two beds.

“How do you feel?” He asked. Another thing he picked up from his years on earth was the ability to know when to ask what questions.

You felt blank. Void of answers and solutions to the situation at hand. Whether or not to turn left, or right.

“I… don’t know what to do, Cas.” Your voice broke along with the tears you were holding back, and a sinking feeling of hopelessness began to dig its way through your head.

Neither you nor Dean are ready to be parents. What if Dean’s angry? He would never kick you out of the bunker. The bunker is the only real home any of you have had in a long time, but is it safe? Is the world safe enough to bring a baby into? A Winchester baby, who would no doubt be a target from birth. What if the baby doesn’t make it to full term? What if this baby kills you like you killed your own mother?

“Y/N,” Cas placed his hand on your shoulder, “I’m going to ask you to take a breath.” He drew his hand up and waited for you to inhale. Taking in a shuddered breath, you followed the flow of his hand, stopping your heart from running up your throat.

“Thank you.” You said, sitting down on your bed and grabbing the pregnancy tests off the nightstand. Two pluses, two double lines. You and Dean were careful and used a condom whenever you found extra time together, but somehow God decided that rubber wasn’t going to work as intended.

“I think I’m going to just lay here,” you tuck yourself under the bed sheets once more, the tests shoved into your pajama pants, “and wait for Dean and Sam to get home. I’ll get him out of this stuffy ass room and tell him in private. Sam shouldn’t have to witness if we- if we argue. I know it makes him feel awful.”

“That’s a smart plan. You need to take this one step at a time and do it carefully. I know Dean cares for you deeply, but if you need someone to support you, all you have to do is call for me.” Cas squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

“Thank you, Cas.” You yawned, pulling your body further under the covers of the bed. Castiel smiled slightly, before turning away and disappearing with a familiar rush of wings flapping.

Your body was covered head to toe in sweat, and the bed sheet you wrapped around yourself was thrown onto the floor. No light entered the room, and the time on the alarm clock read 1:43. Your stomach churned in a familiar way, and as you got to your feet you finally noticed neither of the boys were in the room.

You clambered to the bathroom, phone in hand, trying to call Dean. One hand braced on the toilet, and the other tried to thumb down to his contact. There wasn’t any time to think about the fact you were carrying a baby inside of you, the baby whose father is missing in the middle of the night with no calls or messages.

They always call. You thought before you set your ringing phone on the floor to throw up for the first time that morning. The phone rang, the sound slowly driving you insane each time you redialed Dean’s number between dry heaving into the bowl.

Your hair was sticking to your forehead, poorly swept away and held back by a rubber band you found on the sink. The heat, the pain, and the fear of losing contact with the Winchester brothers combined with the reality of you being pregnant was finally built up enough to break the swarm of emotions you barely choked down when Cas was in the room earlier.

Eyes burning, you slumped against the sink cabinet and brought your phone to your ear as you called Dean once again. You let out a sob, tears rushing down your face and neck, leaving behind a slightly burning trail. Your breathing became uneven, the sound of your own heart drumming through your ears drowning out the ring of your phone. Letting your phone slip to the floor, you brought your knees to your chest and folded your arms as a nest for your forehead.

Neither of the boys called within the twenty minutes you were in the bathroom, your phone was now close to being dead, and no muscle in your body wanted to obey your brain telling them to move and do something. You weren’t a weak woman, you took the cards you were dealt and tried your best to win, but sometimes all you could do was fold.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

A hand pulled your face from your knees, and you could barely see with the light of the bathroom now on and blinding you. A warm hand rested against your cheek while another briefly touched your forehead.

“Help me get her up, Sammy,” your eyes fluttered closed and you felt two arms hook under both your arms, laying them over shoulders as your feet lightly dragged across the floor.

“I’ve never seen her this bad, Dean.” The voice you now recognized as Sam said. Your legs were swept up from under you and you were laid on the bed you’d crawled out of.

You felt the tests still pressing in your pockets, and you thanked whatever greater being was willing to listen. There was no way you wanted to Dean to discover that information on accident.

Dean.

The other voice was Dean.

You moron, who else would it be?

The bed next to you dipped down, and you felt a gentle hand tuck a few stray hairs behind one of your ears. The sweat covering you was sucking every inch of clothing to your skin, and all you wanted to do was peel either of the pair off.

“I thought Cas was going to come here and help her out,” you heard his voice straining as he spoke, and you felt your heart snap in two.

You moved your hand, as heavy as it felt, and squeezed the first part of him you touched.

“Sweetheart,” you could feel Dean’s breath as he hovered over you, “you’re scaring me here.”

“Cas…” you gave out a heavy cough, “he came. He helped me figure out what’s been happening.”

A glass of water was brought to your mouth, and you took every drop of it. After swallowing the cup, your eyes finally were able to open. You were greeted by a worried Dean hovering very close to you, and a worried Sam crossing back from the kitchen holding Dean’s water bottle.

Sam set the bottle on the bedside table and sat on his bed, facing you and Dean. Dean’s attention was solely on you. His hands grabbed both sides of your face and brought his lips to your forehead, before resting against it.

“Hey,” you said, chuckling slightly, “I didn’t mean to scare you, De. You, or Sam.” You sat yourself up in bed.

“Did Cas tell you what’s wrong?” Sam asked, looking at you expectantly.

“He did, but… is it okay if I talk to Dean? Alone?” You asked softly.

Sam shot Dean a look, which Dean promptly returned with one that had Sam standing up, and walking into the hall.

Orange rays of light shone from the window of the room, and you could just barely see the sun climbing on the horizon. Dean moved to hold you in bed while you gained the composure to tell him you were both parents.

“Dean…” you breathed steadily, trying to even your heartbeat that was ramping up once more, “I have to tell you something-”

“I kinda gathered as much sweetheart,” he said lightly, lines forming around his forest-lorn eyes beautifully.

“- it’s important. I mean, it’s going to change our lives, for the rest of our lives.”

Dean’s face became more serious, pulling you to face him as he crossed his legs.

“You know you can tell me anything, Y/N.”

Do it, now. Just say-

“I’m pregnant.”

The air hung heavy around the pair of you as you handed him the tests in your pocket, and you could see the clocks turn in Dean’s mind as he stared down at them.

“But we used a rubber?” He said, and you could guess where his thoughts were wandering.

“We did, but you’re the only person I’ve been with for years, Dean, I need you to believe me when I say that.” You said reassuringly as you could without sounding like you were lying.

His face broke into a small smile, and he brought his thumb to trace over your lower cheek, “I know, sweetheart. I trust you with my heart, I just know not to use that brand anymore, seems like their effectiveness is questionable.”

You laughed, tears drying in your eyes as you pushed at him playfully, “Dean! You gave me a heart attack, you son of a bitch!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry okay!” He laughed, capturing you in a giant bear hug and rolling you on top of him. You looked down at him and brought your lips down to his.

“You’re going to be a father,” you said, beaming at him while smiling the hardest you’d ever in the longest time

“You’re going to be a mother,” he replied, smiling just as hard. Your face fell slightly, and the word mother finally kicked into your head. “Hey,” Dean said as he saw your face shift, somehow remembering the story you told him all those years ago, “Remember, we’ve got an angel on speed dial, and you know how hard it is to take out a Winchester.”

Your heart warmed at the statement, the baby inside of you was just as much L/N as it was Winchester. You loved Dean with your heart, as did he love you, and now the two of you were going to brace the dangerous world you’d spent years protecting with the amalgamation of that love.

You brought Dean’s hand to your stomach as he brought his other hand to your face. His calloused fingers were gentle on your skin, and small crinkles formed around his eyes as he smiled, holding his hand at your stomach as you gazed back at him.

A knock sounded at the door, making you turn your head around before you and Dean burst into laughter, and told Sam he could come back in the room to tell him the news.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader)

Konig needs help in decluttering and cleaning his house. Unfortunately for you, he takes quite a huge liking in having pretty things like you around. And he isn't very nice about it.

TW: Perverted Konig, age gap, Konig masturbates at you without consent, implied kidnapping, yandere Word count: 3754 This work on AO3

There is no shame in having a professional cleaner, König tries to tell himself. 

Yes, he is a grown man with a very dangerous job that requires having a lot of responsibility. He holds the lives of his soldiers in his hands and risks his life every day not for the sake of his country, but certainly for the sake of his wallet and the reputation of KorTac. 

Hiring a professional cleaner for his house shouldn’t make him feel humiliated and embarrassed, and he knows it. Cleaners are basically like soldiers – doing stuff that other people can’t for a certain amount of money, providing services for the clients who can afford it. Besides, it’s a support of his local community – after everything he took from the people around his town, it’s only natural that he would support this growing business of cleaning services. 

There is no shame in having some nice old lady cleaning his house and watching over it while he is too busy trying not to kill himself or drown his head in liquor after a particularly rough mission. When you lose two guys on a run that was supposed to be the quickest task possible when you’re returning home with an injury that isn’t really that serious but brings your whole mental state into a very dark place, and when you’re forced to take 3 weeks of leave in the place you hate, hiring a cleaner to take care of everything really shouldn’t make him so ashamed of himself. 

Even if he can clean his space – the house is just too big for only one of him, and his ribs still have this funny feeling of fantom bullets traveling around his guts. So, he dials up the number of the cleaning services because he is too fucking old to understand their weird website and messenger ordering, even though speaking with a human operator on the other half of the line is somewhat more humiliating that having no idea of how to use a modern interface. 

There is no shame in asking for help, his therapist is trying to shrill it in his head all of the time and yet he is still hesitant when the cleaning professional is knocking on his door, finding this place surprisingly fast. König braces himself, thinking about all the ways he could avoid having a conversation – he drew a quick map of the place, put down the room cleaner shouldn’t be entering – his gun safe, mostly, already repeated in his head how he would greet them and swiftly extract himself from the situation. 

“Guten Tag, please, come in. This is the map of the place, don’t go to the red door on the right, don’t hesitate to ask questions, I will be on the second floor.” He takes a few wide, swift steps to his door and stops. Thinks again, overthinking, thinking too fucking much about everything, anxiously checking on his phone to read the message that yes, his cleaner is here and he should probably open the door or they would burst down the window. “Guten Tag, come in. Map of the place is here, don’t go to the red door to the right, please hesitate to ask questions, I will be somewhere around the house, lurking in the shadows” He braces himself to open the door, ready to see that sweet old lady who would spend the next 8 hours cleaning his house and then turn back another day to rinse and repeat until his house stopped looking like a place where a very, very miserable man lives. (Even if this is true) 

But, there isn’t a nice old lady with a bunch of cleaning supplies and determination to make someone’s life easier. 

But, there isn’t a cold middle-aged woman with a very professional no-nonsense attitude who wouldn’t even talk to him before going straight to work. 

But, there is a young girl. Well, not a girl, of course, if he had to guess you were somewhere around the “Too fucking young, but definitely legal” spectrum. Young enough to not be alive when he was already going to school, young enough to make him sweat, and definitely not old enough to be accepting a job where you’d have to spend so much of your life cleaning and scrubbing and sorting and…

There isn’t anything shameful in ordering a cleaning service when you genuinely need it, but you’re young and you’re pretty and he isn’t even wearing a mask because he is an old dumbass that forgot about it, and you look at him with your shiny eyes and…

Maybe, he should clean on his own – would definitely be less shameful. 

— Sir? H…hello? Good morning? Can you hear me? 

Yes, he can hear you. 

Yes, he would love to hear you every single day of his life, when he wakes up and when he falls asleep. 

— Ja. I apologize, I…thought it was mail. 

It’s a dumb excuse, but he can’t really say that he was just too fucking mesmerized by your shiny eyes and perfect hair and nice figure and basically everything about you. He has this nasty habit of imagining a future with people around him – with people who just fucking want to be left alone, and yet he still stares and looks and it’s probably ultra uncomfortable for them – but he can’t help imagining the life with every cute lady in the grocery shop or elegant lady sitting next to him on a train. 

He has a pattern – people who are not interested in him in the slightest. He has a pattern, a preference, cute girls, smart girls, popular ladies that were never even so much as looking in his direction. He could probably score someone now, having a colonel’s salary and honorably discharged payments, but he gave up on trying to find anyone. He has friends, company, has work where he spent most of his life anyway – he doesn’t need anyone, he wants to think. 

Then you waddle into his life with a bunch of cleaning supplies and a small vacuum, barely able to handle everything in your hands. He rushes to help and envelops your hands with his – you are so much smaller in comparison, he has bear-like arms and horribly big everything. he feels awkward when he gently removes everything from your arms – when he tries to help by simply putting everything on the table of the next room. 

König hated this house – it was big, it was empty, and the only reason he didn’t sell it was because Mother’s things were still locked in her old bedroom and every time he tried to clean it and evaluate the cost of the house, he decided that he will Do It Other Day. Coincidentally, all of those days were also followed by three-month minimum missions, making him utterly unable to do everything about this place anyway. 

This is why you’re here – a hired cleaner, a sorter, you promised to de-hoard everything and see if there is anything of value. Perfect for someone like him, especially since he is paying you double for spending the whole day and a few days more in his house exclusively. 

Now, he looks at how awkward your smile is, how you fidget with the edge of the broom you brought, and how you can’t even start a conversation because he is simply staring at you, staying in the living room of this dead, almost abandoned house. Now, he looks at how cute you are, how perfect, and remembers that he didn’t score with anyone in half a year already – not even in terms of sex, the casual flirting was also forbidden since half of his unit was transferred and the new people weren’t really fun of his tough methods of breaking rookies in. 

When was the last time someone genuinely smiled at him? 

Ah, he is staring again. Scheisse. 

— Where do you want me to start, sir? 

He wonders how much he should pay you to clean him instead. Would you be gentle? Rough? Would you call him a pervert, which he is, and then slap him and yell at him for being such a horrible old dog who is ready to pounce at every pretty girl in his presence? He would do anything that would set his mind free of the thought about Mom. Her bedroom. This whole house that he can’t call home ever since he turned 6 and understood why Father was always so, so angry. 

— The living room. If it’s not too much. 

He barely stops himself from talking more – you look weird, you loom surprised, you look at him like he is fucking stupid and, in fact, he is. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard for you, you’re his clean, for fucks sake. You come here to clean, you get good money for it, he shouldn’t feel guilty for using your services because, in some way, he actually provides you with a job and a cute thing like you shouldn’t go to other houses, with old perverts that can do unspeakable things with the adorable worker. 

Ah, yes, perverts like him. God, he is hopeless. 

— Alright. Do you want to note something, like if there is anything I shouldn’t touch? 

He would allow you to take your adorable, yellow glow-wearing hands to get into his personal savings and all of his bank accounts, if you’d want to. He curses under his breath, hating how professional you are – hard worker, perfect, simply a fantastic person who deserves more than working for him. You aren’t trying to shy away from the job and he almost resents you for it. 

You’d make a good soldier, he thinks – you’re able to hear the orders and oblige to them, you’re obedient and came even before the discussed time. You’d make such a perfect private for his unit, he observes. 

Ah, right, he was supposed to answer you. Shit. 

— No. Just don’t go to the second room on the left. 

— Alright. Anything else? 

He grumbles under his breath, trying to get into the right headspace to deal with someone like you. König knows it’s rude, to just ignore and leave you like this – but if he were to stay in he same room as you, he would do something horrible, disgusting, and completely dishonorable to you. So, he leaves – escapes – to his office. Father’s office, mostly, the only thing here that belongs to him are some documents and useless papers – and a laptop that he drags to every other room anyway. 

He doesn’t like this room, it reminds him of the worst episodes of his early childhood – yet, this is his only reserve. He doesn’t want to leave the house because the territory is secluded and if something were to happen to you, he would be the only one able to help. He also doesn’t want to leave his gun collection with you – he doesn’t want you to find it and freak out or hurt yourself. 

This is what he tells himself, at least. He wants to be there with you, in the same room preferably, but horrible for his anxiety, because he wants this illusion, phantasm of having a loving relationship. Of having a woman in his life, a lovely housewife who would cook for him, clean for him, and would be absolutely spoiled with gifts and attention. God knows he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body – but he will carve one out of his ribs for you. 

And he only knew you for an hour tops. 

König feels like literally the worst man alive when he spread his legs and starts stroking his hard, glistening cock. He brushes over the swollen, red tip, not allowing himself to have any lube other than spit and oozing pre-cum – he tries not to cum embarrassingly quickly, thinking about your perfect gestures and smiling face. How perfect you look in your cleaning uniform – not like maids from the occasional porn he was watching, but still beautiful. Your body is perfect even with all of those ugly layers and grey fabric – and he can’t stop thinking about the sway of your hips or glimpses of your legs under your dress.

He thinks about you, bent over his couch, trying to clean the especially dirty spot on the furniture – how the material of your dress would be tight around your ass. The image makes him grunt quietly, stroking his barely wet dick even more – the pain from the dry sensation only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. He is hard, was hard for the past 10 minutes as you were introducing yourself and whatever your deal is. He is dirty, perverted, knowing only your name and your face – and he is still stroking himself, thinking about paying you extra just so you’d get on your pretty knees and suck him. Would you be sloppy, messy, get his cum all over your face so you’d have to wash it off? Would you be experienced, eager, trying to get as much seed as possible with that pretty tongue of yours? 

He is a lost cause because he hears the sounds of vacuum – you’re only a few rooms away from him, trying so hard to clean his house for him, to work through every bit of furniture and everything he acquired for the past twenty years or so – and he moans loudly, knowing that you don’t hear anything. You’re probably listening to music or some silly girl’s podcast about planets and gardens and maybe some university lectures. He’d pay for your courses, he would get you any book you want – having his salary and barely spending it made him softer in the saving habits. 

He can afford to splurge on a pretty girl who just needs a rich Austrian mercenary to sweep her off her feet. But, he is old – but, he is a monster who preys on someone helpless, using her pretty face to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t even deserve your number, although he has had it since accepting the service. 

His cock is big, angry red in his hand as he runs his finger over the bulging vein, teasing the sensitive flesh – always loud in bed, with grunts and moans of pleasure, he can barely contain himself now, only forcing his mouth shut when he doesn’t hear the sound of vacuum anymore. He strokes his dick fast, angry, and slams it into his fist, trying to make the pain last longer, so he won’t cum after a minute or two. He has the stamina to last longer – but it’s also the first time he was so horny since…he can’t even remember. 

König thinks about putting you in his bed – like a perfect housewife, you would hug his waist with your legs, would allow him to lick and grope at your tits, and won’t scream too much when he’d force his tongue inside of your precious pussy, taking every last drop of your pleasure. He wouldn’t want to be forceful, angry, you’re too precious for this and too weak for his strength – but he can imagine slamming into you in a matting press, cumming inside and not even pulling out, warming his cock in the heat of your body. 

Father would kill him for doing something so dirty in his office – but he is long dead, devil save his soul, and it’s König’s office now. Even when he barely uses it, even if he doesn’t really need this. It came in handy when he had to jerk off to the pretty cleaning girl who cleaned up after him – so, somehow, his father managed to improve his mood 15 years after he died. 

He cums with a low groan, whispering your name – he doesn’t understand how a pretty thing like you still works here and wasn’t taken by someone else already, but he would take what he can get. Never the one to get the first dibs, never being someone’s first choice – he feels terrible for thinking about you in such a low way, but his pleasure sticks to his fingers and, at this point, it’s too late to feel bad. 

Drying the tip of his dick with a tissue, he spends a good few minutes with spread legs, his soft cock laying on the chair, with cum still oozing out – such a waste, honestly, would be much better to stuff you full of his cock or even take your pretty ass, spread you slowly. Keep only the tip in, not pressuring you into anything more until you’d start moving yourself, like a good slut you will be. 

So perfect under him – the images and sounds of your voice are running through his mind, making him breathe heavily. If he was younger and had as much sex drive as before, he would already be hard – but he needs some time to relax, thinking about your pretty legs and adorable face. 

It takes him a few minutes of listening to your sweet voice to understand that you were not, in fact, a hallucination or a mystical fairy coming to make him come. You were standing outside of the office door, looking embarrassed and clearly hearing at least some of his horny mumblings – you avoid looking at him, and your fingers are trembling when you tug at the sides of your dress. Guilt immediately rushes to him again, he looks at you like a perfect treasure you are – and he is a horrible monster trying to hoard all of it to himself. 

— What is it, liebling? 

Petname goes smoothly from his tongue and he can only hope that you don’t know German – he is too embarrassed to talk to you, too anxious, his newfound shyness is a result of both your beauty and the post-nut clarity that already made him feel like a monster. He contemplates just giving you money and sending you off, paying double for the false call, and leaving you a 5-star review so you won’t get in trouble with your boss. 

You look so meek from his angle of view – he has to fight the urge to pinch your face, squeeze your cheeks, grab your waist in his firm hands, and just lift you in his arms, holding you to his bed. Maybe getting a nice set of cuffs to ensure you would never escape from him. 

— I finished with the living room and…well, I just wanted to ask if you want the decluttering work to be done today or tomorrow. 

He remembers how he basically paid you for a few days worth of work – and he smiles at exactly how perfect this decision was. Of course, you are a smart girl, a modest girl, you aren’t staying the night and would rather waste time on the road, much to his dismay, but at least he would see you for a few days already. 

He might not even let you go after. 

— Ach. Today, if it’s not too…

He stops himself again – of course, it’s not too much, you are a professional, not just a friend that comes to clean his place for a pack of beer and maybe some pizza. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, anxiety eats him whole, and he has to just avoid looking at you to avoid further embarrassment. 

— Alright. I will do it right away then. 

You smile awkwardly, your lips are twitching and he already knows that you could hear him moaning your name and sweet little praises while stroking his cock. You aren’t biting the hand that feeds you, not running away screaming at how perverted he is – poor girl, you probably need money more than you need personal safety if you’re fine with him heaving like this. If you were his, he would never allow you to be so careless. 

He moves behind you in the most dreaded room of the house. Mother’s bedroom, a room that she only used for sewing and only allowed him in when he was extra whiny after another failed fight with his bullies. All of her thighs are here – ever since she passed away, he just moved everything to one room and locked it, barely bothering to keep a key. He hates being here, almost as much as being in Father’s office — this room smells like death and old paper and you scrunch your nose in an adorable expression when you take a step inside. 

— I will divide everything into categories, alright? 

— Gut.

You look at him nervously, clearly scared that he is watching over you now. It might feel like a logical decision – after all, it was his mother’s vintage things, who knows what kind of jewelry she kept here, something that he won’t even notice gone until it’s too late. You and him both know, however, that this isn’t the reason he is looming over you. A perfect obedient thing, you deserve something better than his affection, but he still locks his gaze with yours, looking at your hands and going through various furniture pieces. 

You work like a fairy, not an ounce of laziness or exhaustion in your actions – even after you already spent a few hours cleaning his living room, you act like a Cinderella that got a bunch of magic mice up her rags. He licks his lips, looking at your perfect ass you as sit on your knees, starting with decluttering every little box there is. 

— Can I just put it back in boxes or…

You look the the contents – vintage makeup, some jewelry, head pieces that don’t look particularly expensive but were definitely well-loved. You wonder who they belong to – probably a wife, or, maybe, some of his relatives who lived here. He doesn’t seem like a married or divorced man – he does, however, look insanely lonely. 

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, too mesmerized by the little song you were humming a minute before. He imagines you in that old, chunky jewelry, some necklaces that cost more than your salary – and the thought makes him salivate. 

He smiles, leaning closer to you – hot breath on your face, you shift immediately, scared. He is so fast for someone so big, his movements are perfect and his eyes are cold – you feel the chill deep in your bones when he moves even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. 

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that he locked the door to this tiny room when you both moved in. 

[curiosityschild]

Anyone else feeling absolutely unhinged this fine Sunday evening? Or is it just me

[mydarlingclaudia]

I could be mom (unless you want to be dad)

note : divider is from @/grlselle. handful of paragraphs before smut sowwy. I also just wrote this spur of the moment because I finally had a bit of motivation and this is the winner of that poll I did last week and I was bored so the smut isn't that long and I'm remembering that I never really knew how to write smut soooo. mdni

wc : 1.4k

tags : @lottiies @luvrgreyy

desc : whiny husband. smut!! - unprotected p in v, riding. established relationship, little bit of fingers in mouth whoopsie, you've got a daughter, fem!reader, vendetta!Leon, not proofread

You unbuckle your daughter’s seatbelt and pick her up out of her booster seat, housing her up onto your hip while you straighten your purse on your shoulder and walk to the front door. Leon’s motorcycle is propped up on its kickstand in the driveway, you didn’t know he was supposed to be back yet. He told you he’d be getting home late, but you got home later than him, apparently. At least your daughter wouldn’t jump up on him now that you’re home, she’s out cold, he’s probably drunk or asleep.

New York had been hard on him. You were upset enough when he told you he was going to Colorado for a week three days beforehand, but having him come home and tell you he didn’t even get to relax as much as he wished because he got pulled into work just made you annoyed. You loved your husband, truly, but he could piss you off like no one else. You know his work is messy, you know he can’t be around all the time, you know he’d rather ease his problems by drinking rather than opening up to you. And you know he's trying to protect you and your daughter, you just can't really help but want something normal.

Maybe you had to work on actually planning things with him, though. Dinner was often between five and nine p.m., you and Leon haven’t been on a date night in like, what, a year now? You know it’s not about him not being attracted to you, your schedules are just so busy that there hasn’t really been enough time for the two of you to go out on a dinner date or something like that.

The house is dark when you step inside, you don’t smell any alcohol, either. You kick off your shoes and take your daughters off as well before you put your keys into the tiny bowl on the kitchen counter, you’re not going to bother to change your daughter into her pajamas, she’s already in shorts and a shirt, that’s good enough and you’re tired, anyway.

Her room is always messy, you’re lucky you don’t trip over any toys even when you turn on the light. You spend maybe ten seconds tucking her in and kissing her cheek before you shut off her light and head to your bedroom, Leon’s asleep on the bed, he doesn’t even smell like beer, which is a good thing.

Leon always looks more peaceful when he’s sleeping, you wish you had offered for him to come over to your friend’s house with you and your daughter tonight, maybe letting him rest was good, though. So you change into pajamas and lay next to Leon, who instantly stirs.

“Hm…?” Leon murmurs when you wrap your arm around him.

“It’s me,” You whisper against his bare shoulder, you immediately feel him relax.

“When’d you get back?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“Have fun?”

“Mhm,” You press a kiss to his shoulder blade, he hums and readjusts the pillow under his head before he finally decides it's to his liking and rests against it again. "Love you."

"Love you, too." You hardly hear him say it, but you squeeze him a bit tighter, hearing the soft chuckle he lets out before he falls back asleep a few seconds later.

—

You and Leon shift around in bed a lot at night, you're never in the same position you went to sleep in when you get up in the morning.

Tonight, though, you wake up to Leon grinding against your hip at one in the morning. You're not mad, he was doing it in his sleep, anyway. Doesn't stop you from waking him up and climbing on top of him after you pull his boxers down.

"Christ, Leon, shut the fu-fuck up!" You hiss at him, continuing to slowly ease yourself up and down on his cock. You've never heard him so whiny before, could've been because the two of you haven't had sex in a little bit.

"C-Can't help i-it-" He gasps out, digging his fingers into the plump flesh of your hips while he bucks up into you. You've been doing this for maybe five minutes now, trying to tell him to be quiet and that you aren't forgetting his needs, but his face is so flushed and his chest is heaving and you can't really tell if he's even trying to do as you say.

His mouth remains open as he continues to let more and more lewd noises escape his throat whenever you sink back down onto him, you don't know how he isn't getting cramps in his hands from gripping onto you so tightly.

But you continue on, squeezing around him tightly because it made him feel even better inside of you. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, your eyes screwing shut while Leon's stay glued to where you're joined, watching as your cunt sucks him in over and over again.

His expression is nothing but pleading and needy and you're so in love with it, your hands rest on the soft fat of his pecs, his trembling hands can't stay in one spot anymore.

"Sweetheart, God, p-please." Leon's voice only gets louder and you have to shush him again, your eyes staying open long enough to shoot him an angry glare.

"If you wake her up-"

"I won't!" He cuts you off, his hips bucking against yours again while his head falls back against his pillow. You're probably not much quieter than him, hearing him whine and moan only triggers something in your brain that makes you mimic him, and there's the soft plap plap of your bodies to go along with it.

You've tried kissing him to swallow up his moans, but your mouths never stay connected for long due to lack of oxygen or he just can't hold your head in place. But his lips are still glossy with his drool and yours, and there's a few hickeys on his neck that he'll stare at for the next handful of days to come.

You know he's close, you're not far behind. Though, you know that when he cums he won't shut up.

But you continue to push your hips up and down, trying to keep your eyes from rolling back when you sink down onto him fully. It only adds more fuel for him to get increasingly louder, muttering about how good you feel and how he needs to cum inside you.

A few more thrusts and he'll be done, you know it. So before he can wake up the whole neighborhood, you grab his chin, forcing him to look at you so you can kiss him. You know that's not enough, of course. So when you pull away from him, a string of saliva still connecting your swollen lips to his, you push two fingers into his open mouth, trying to not his the back of his throat. Leon waits for only a second before he realizes, biting down on the base of your fingers lightly only to then suck on them.

And you're right, as always. After a few more thrusts he cums inside you, moaning around your fingers. The sight of his drool coating your knuckles and eyes lidded with pleasure almost does it for you, but you meet your own release after you raise yourself up to get him balls-deep a few more times.

You sit there on top of him for a few more minutes, looking up at your ceiling while you catch your breath. Leon has yet to tip his head back and slide your fingers from his mouth, trying to catch his breath, same as you.

You're the one to pull away from him, he looks a little annoyed when you pull your fingers out of his mouth and wipe some of the spit onto his chest, but you know he loved everything the two of your just did. Leon smiles at you after a few seconds, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you down onto him for a kiss.

"When did you get so whiny?" You whisper against his lips, then press a few soft kisses there.

"Don't tell anyone," You snort and pull back from him, your hand cups his cheek and he smiles against your palm.

"I wouldn't, that's only for me, right?"

"Only for you,"

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt5

Danny groggily propped himself up as he heard the loud bang of his door being thrown open

"DANIEL VLADIMIR FENTON!"

Blinking a few times to get the sleep out of his eyes, Danny glared at Tucker, "Middle name? Really?" He hated it, so very much, hated that he thought it was cool when he was a kid, and hated it so much more after the portal incident, it wasn't enough for his parents to have Vlad be his godfather, Danny's middle name had to be that fruitloops as well.

Damn his parents for being such caring friends.

Tucker met Danny's glare as he crossed his arms in the doorway into Danny's room

He would cut an intimidating figure if Danny didn't know him, suit and tie perfectly pressed with a PDA held in one hand.

"I know you said that you got the Bats at the diner place thingy you are working at now last night, but did you have to call them out? Red Robin and Oracle have been trying to track you for the last 5 hours, I have had to summon Technus in the WE employee bathrooms! Thank God Mr Wayne included baby changing stations in each stall or I would have had to carve a sigil into the fucking wall! And I think *he* bricked the Batcomputor!" Tucker screeched as he paced the clear area of Danny's messy room

Scrubbing at his eyes, Danny sat up fully, more awake than he was a minute ago, "S-sorry? Didn't really think about them being sore bitches about it, I tagged them like once and set it online, they probably get hundreds of tags an hour. How was is supposed to know that they would read it?"

Tucker snarled, holding out his PDA for Danny to see "Not just Nightwing and Red Robin, half the God damn Young Justice team, The Titans are all over Nightwing, and all the rest of the bats are laughing their asses off! Look!"

<@Superboy_(the_hot_one)

[@not-that-red-robin.real wow Rob, if I knew u were broke I would have have asked Lexie to give u some cash]

<@Beep-Beep!_(official-Impluse)

[ @not-that-red-robin.real that's not very lit fam Gucci of u RR not very rizztastic and definitely isn't skibidi

@living-legend(Yes_that_wondergirl)

<@not-that-red-robin.real for fucking shame Red Themyscira has laws for bitches like you comere I am gonna cut off your thumbs.

Letting out a laugh, Danny was grinning as he scrolled through to Nightwings part.

<@theonetrueblueborg

[@.realwing: it's giving "my daddys rich and will take the bill" wing]

<@veggiemonster

[@.realwing: bro

:BRO

:Broooooooooooo]

<@Goth (Taylor's version)

[@.realwing: shame.]

Danny was full on laughing now, ad from what he could see through tears, so was Tucker, standing up with a weaze, "O-oh my Ancients....ugh t-that is just great"

Letting out a few more chuckles, Danny handded the PDA over to his friend, "I am sorry about getting the Bats aware of me, but I am not sorry for calling them toxic thinks."

Tucker sighed, running his forehead but still had a smile on his face, "You do know #NightwingsAssIsCancelled is trending right now?"

Danny couldn't hold back the cackle that shot through him at that.

---

Tim held his head in his hands, above him was his laptop, cycling through rebooting and then crashing, it had been five minutes so far, and if the last cycle had told him anything it would be up to that for another five minutes.

Groaning, Tim dragged himself up, he hadn't slept much last night, spending most of it trying (and failing) to get any information on the employee of Big C's, Danny nolastname he could find.

That was part of the problem, anytime he got even a smidgen close, it was like someone bitchsmacked him away. Even Babs was having trouble, she got a single thing before getting locked out of her own systems with baby shark playing on loop through her speakers.

He didn't know what to feel, humiliated that he was being actively cock blocked for information or excited since this is the first time in a while something was so difficult! The bear fact that he was being blocked so hard meant that there was something to block with this kid!

Stumbling down to the dining room, Tim didnt spare the table of his family a glance until he had gotten the pre-made cup of coffee from Alfred, letting the bitter drink wake him fully.

Finally turning to the family at large, he saw Bruce doing his best impression of a stone statue (Normal Damian was openingly glaring at him (slightly less normal), Dick was face down in a bowl of cereal (vaugly normal) and Cass was giggling while putting clips and sparkling things into Dicks hair (okay back to normal again)

Sitting in his spot across from Damian, Tim sighed, which seemed to be enough for Damian to go off on him.

"Are we paupers Drake? Has the CEO position at WE pay so little? And what of your own company? I was unaware that Drake Industries has fallen on such hard times!" Damians words rolled out like a lazy river, smooth and uncaringly cold.

"Oh my God, I am already planning on going back tonight and settling the fucking tab Dami, lay off it." Getting the expected "language" statement from both Bruce and Alfred, Tim drained his coffee cup, not so slamming it down but close to it before Damian could respond.

Eyes shooting to Bruce he huffed, "Meeting. Vlad Masters. One ish hours away."

Bruce's eyes shot to Alfred who only raised a brow at the two and Bruce stiffened "We can speak later in my Study Tim, eat something other than coffee and we can go do that." Getting a nod from Alfred, Bruce seemed to deflate with a sigh.

Grumbling, Tim picked at the plate of food Alfred placed in front of him, before forcing himself to eat, he would need energy more than coffee.

After managing to finish half his plate, Tim stood, "Come on, I need yo clue you in to somethings I was researching last night B..."

---

Bruce stayed silent as he sat down in his office, a tablet on his lap as he went through the test results once again.

"...are you saying me and Dick had Lazarus water laden food last night?" Tim said with frigid calmness

Biting back the urge to clam up and try and keep his son from worrying, Bruce nodded, "Trace amounts yes, I am unsure of its origins, the samples I was able to pull were much more pure than we are used to. How are you feeling?"

He watched as Tim held his face in his hands, massaging his temples before speaking, "Fine really? A little tired, appetite isn't there but that's normal...been feeling a strange sensation in my side but that is just likely phantom pain."

Noting everything down, Bruce nodded slowly, "Dick mentioned that he was still full feeling after a night's sleep and that some old wounds were feeling strange, I can only assume you are feeling your splenectomy scar?"

Sighing at Tim's agreement, Bruce noted a few more things down, making holding the last line to ask Damian if he had any knowledge on eating food effected by the pits, and another one not to tell Jason about this all in case it triggers something in him

"Putting that aside, B, what about Masters? Vladco makes medical stuff right? Shady business practices?" Bruce gave a grunt, switching the tabs on his pad to show him thr information on Vladimir Masters.

"Age 48, male, standing 6'1, weighs about 180, doctorate in theoretical quantum mechanics, had a lab incident preparing for a theise that left him hospitalized for some time, after he recovered and graduated is when his suspected criminal activities began, since then he has had several business owners simply sign their lively hoods to him...I suspect he is Meta with some sort of mind control abilities, the lab accident would make sense in awakening his Mets gene."

Bruce spoke as he handed the tablet over to Tim, "He sponsors several scientists with various types of study, two that stick out are Doctors Fenton and CADMUS."

Tim pulled a face as he followed along through the tabs of research "CADMUS? Really? So we are looking at some Midwestern millionaire that is totally not a supervillian in the making...what's up with the Fentons?" Handing the tablet back Tim flopped down into the chair opposite to Bruce.

"I am trying to figure that out, so far I know they went to school with Masters, and were there with him during the lab accident, the continual funding Masters is giving them makes me suspect they are just as involved in what ever Masters is to to..." Bruce was going to continue when there was a knock on the study door, and Alfred poked his head in.

"If you wish to be on time to your meeting, I would suggest Master Timothy get dressed now so you both might be in the car while I drive it to Wanye Towers."

Bruce frowned, but nodded, giving time a small smirk as the teen begins to realize he is just in a winkled t shirt that Bruce was 95% sure was Conners, and a pair of shorts that Bruce was very sure were Barts.

[bbsmuts]

Midas's Gift ft. Kiss of Life Natty

A/N: This was a request from @dav1233555. No kinky shit here, just a nice, wholesome smut, if such a thing exists. Just as a note, our main character is supposed to be a high-up executive in a successful engineering/engineering company. I don't know how that works, I'm a lawyer. At the request of the pitcher, we'll call him Y/N when we need to, which isn't something I usually do but not a problem. Enjoy!

-상훈

Length: 5.47k

No TWs today you kinky little bastards 😁

Ok, I lied, maybe some light choking/spanking.

Tags: Wholesome-ish, light choking, light spanking, throatfuck

It was a warm, bright kind of morning; the sunlight shone through the gold-colored curtains in Natty's room, making them look a pleasant, shimmery amber, with a beam of it falling over my back. Faint sounds of other apartment residents could be heard from every side I groaned languidly and rolled over onto my back, the warmth streaming through the window felt nice.

To my right, Natty gave a sleepy moan and turned on her side to face me, her arm sliding across my chest. She pulled herself closer to me, and her other hand took hold of my arm, slowly caressing my bicep.

"Good morning oppa," she murmured drowsily in an adorably high-pitched morning voice, hugging me from the side. I opened one eye and smiled at her cute face gazing back at me.

"Sleep well, babe?" I asked, shutting my eye again.

"The best." She yawned. "I was so tired after last night..."

"Yeah, me too." I put my arm around her slim form and pulled her closer. "What time is it?"

I heard the sound of the sheets rustling and then her voice.

"9 am, just about."

I yawned and kept my eyes shut. "Shit, I have to go soon."

She snuggled in close to me, resting her head on my pec. "But not yet." She was quiet for a moment. "Your morning voice is so sexy oppa..."

I chuckled, slowly stroking her hair. "So's yours."

She gave soft purrs at my stroking. "Really?"

I turned onto my side to face her, smiling. "Really."

She giggled and buried her face in my chest. "Oppa I love you."

"Love you too, baby." I planted a kiss on her head, and I could feel her smile against me. My hand dipped lower, slithering down her back and caressing her supple ass cheeks, massaging a quiet moan from her.

"Mmm, you like that baby?"

"Ohh yes...yes I do..."

I pulled her on top of me and she opened her legs, her pussy pressing on me, releasing a rush of blood to my cock and stirring it from its rest. I pulled her head down and kissed her lovingly, and then she pushed herself up and started slowly grinding her hips on me, letting out soft whimpers.

Natty's breath was shaky and her voice needy as she bent down, moaning in my ear.

"O-oppa...I need you..."

"Fuck, baby, I need you too."

I grabbed her hips, guiding my tip to her entrance, and pushed into her slowly. She and I moaned in unison, the sound's volume increasing the deeper I went. I bottomed out after come considerable resistance, and she pushed herself up on my pecs, starting to ride me. Her arms trembled slightly as she moaned, gyrating and bouncing her hips on me and driving me in and out of her. I times thrusts with her bouncing, ramming my cock deeper inside her.

"F-fuck, you're so big oppa! Ohh my god yes, harder!"

My eyebrows contracted as her pussy tightened around me, her walls squeezing and pleasuring me. "Ugh, you're tight babe, so fucking tight, god!" I groaned through gritted teeth. I pulled her close to me and rolled over, lifting her legs into the air and fucking her pussy vigorously, making her moan louder.

"Oh, oh fuck yes, harder, please!" She yelled. "Fucking pound me, that's it, YES!"

I reached around her thighs and squeezed her tits roughly, drawing more cries from her. She moaned out mindless nonsense, incomprehensibly begging for more.

"Fuck, it's so good oppa! So fucking big in me, I'm gonna cum!"

I knew that, and I also knew my own peak was approaching. I gritted my teeth and rammed into her harder, fucking her raw and driving her to her orgasm like a chauffeur in a limo. I hooked her knees over my shoulders and leaned down, keeping up my hard and fast thrusts while whispering in her ear.

"Are you gonna cum for me baby?"

"Yes oppa, I'm so close, don't stop!" She cried into my ear.

I felt her pussy clenching and contracting wildly around me and her shrieks of pleasure increased in volume.

"I'm cumming! Keep fucking me!"

I closed my eyes and kept postponing my hips forward, allowing her cries to envelop my half-vacant brain. I heard her scream and felt a gush of warm juices spray over my abs. Feeling my own pleasure rising to an apex, I buried myself to the hilt inside her and struck gold, also known as her cervix. She gasped at the sudden contact and the deluge of hot seed that was shot deep down her tunnel, triggering her second orgasm. She let out a small "Oh, fuck", not having the breath in her lungs for a loud sound. Then she sucked in a breath and moaned, her voice breaking a bit.

I rolled off her, panting a lot, feeling the blood start to empty from my softening cock. Natty took a minute to recover before speaking.

"That was - fuck, that was amazing."

I turned her head towards mine and kissed her. Then I caught sight of the clock and groaned. "It's 9:15, I really have to get ready and go."

"Aww, okay."

I reluctantly got out of bed and went to the bathroom, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and styled my hair. I got dressed, putting on the suit I had taken off last night after going straight to Natty's place from work. Black blazer and pants, white button-down, blue tie, the obligatory watch, my black shoes, and my favorite lapel pin. Perfection.

I gave Natty one more kiss goodbye, putting all my willpower into resisting the urge her naked body forced on me, then took the elevator down to the ground floor. I got in my car and then drove away, heading towards the office.

After parking my car in the huge building's parking lot, I made my way inside with my briefcase in hand, the usual morning greetings meeting me from all sides.

"Good morning, Mr. L/N."

"Morning, Y/N."

"Looking sharp, Y/N."

Nodding respectfully at all of them, I immediately made a beeline for the coffee bar. "Morning, Min." I said to Minjoon, a coworker and friend of mine, who nodded. I set down my briefcase at the nearest table and filled a cup to the brim, lidded it, and left, heading for the elevator. A short trip later, I arrived on the 15th floor and marched up to the desk of my secretary, who chuckled as I approached, sat down in front of her desk, and set down my briefcase momentarily.

"Busy day for you, I'm afraid, Mr. L/N. Twenty-two calls, what I count to be a few million emails, a stack of paperwork a foot tall, and a very upset client."

I sighed and facepalmed, wishing heartily I could be back with Natty right now. "Jesus Christ, and here I was hoping for an easy day."

She laughed. "Easy day? Good one. The upset client happens to be Mr. Han Jong-min, the manager of a construction site we approved and sponsored, who has found a major issue with the location that was sanctioned for their foundation."

I sat back in the chair and let my head fall back. "Him again? My god, has there been one site we've approved for him that he hasn't deep searched, found a minor problem in, and tried to sue us all for it?"

"I don't believe so, Mr. L/N." Her amused voice said.

I sat back up, exasperated. "What's this major problem he found?"

"I'm not entirely sure of that. You'll have to talk to him."

I sighed again, stood up, and seized my briefcase. "Alright, let me go and placate this penny-pinching bastard. Thanks, Sunhee."

"You're welcome, sir. Have fun."

I snorted as I closed my office door, dropping into my chair with a groan. I could tell today would be quite the stressful day, seeing as I was dealing with that son of a bitch Han Jong-min, who tried to find as many issues as possible with the construction sites I and my associates approved. Almost every single time, they were minor issues that wouldn't affect the buildings being constructed. And every single time, they weren't my fault, they were the inspectors' faults, but it somehow always became my problem.

There was indeed a large stack of paperwork on my desk. A lot of files. I opened and logged into my computer to see an astronomical 267 emails, killing another small part of my brain.

"Jesus fucking Christ, why couldn't today be a chill day..." I opened my Gmail and looked through said emails. Excluding social emails, promotions, and spam, I had 3 legitimate emails to read. One was from a coworker, reminding me about a conference today. Another was from my boss, saying he wanted to talk to me later today, and the other was from Han Jong-min, and just from reading the first few words in the preview I could tell I was in for a hell of a time with him.

...

After sorting out the other two emails, meeting with my boss, participating in the press conference, it was time to sort out the construction site. Unless he had a legitimate issue this time, I was finished fucking around with him.

With a sigh, I picked up my phone and dialed his number. I tapped my fingers on my desk while the line rung, and then he picked up.

"Han Jong-min speaking."

"It's Y/N L/N." I said, trying to remove all the annoyance from my voice. (I think that's how you'd put a full name, I don't know). "I was informed that you wished to speak about a problem on your site?"

"Ah yes, Mr. L/N. My crew have indeed run into a problem while preparing to lay the foundation of the building."

"And what would that be, Mr. Han?"

"There's a large, eroded underground cavity in the southeast corner of the lot, which has now collapsed into a sinkhole, taking one of my men with it!"

I raised my eyebrows. "He's dead?"

"No, he's been hospitalized with a broken arm and a broken hip."

"Well, I'm terribly sorry to hear that." I paused. "Unfortunately, there's very little I can do to help you right now."

"What the hell do you mean, very little? We can't build here!"

"I'm aware of that, Mr. Han. But I'm not in charge of sanctioning new build sites, nor am I allowed to. I suggest you speak with one of my superiors."

He sighed. "Alright. I'm sorry for troubling you again, Y/N."

Mood lightened and exasperation softened, I spoke back. "That's quite alright, not to worry. Good luck, Mr. Han."

"The same to you, Mr. L/N."

I hung up, surprised that we had ended on a good note. I was expecting an argument at the very least. Shrugging, I returned to the stack of paperwork, mentally steeling myself for another few hours of innately mind-murdering busywork.

...

There was a knock at my door about two hours in, and I heard my secretary's voice.

"Mr. L/N?"

"Come in." My voice was a bit hoarse.

She entered the room and walked to my desk, holding a small stack of paper.

"More paperwork, I'm afraid. But not much."

She handed me the papers, which I added to the stack.

"Anything else?" I asked.

"Well, it's getting quite late, Mr. L/N. Would it be possible for me to leave?"

I looked at my watch, and was surprised to see how late it was.

"Damn, is it that time already?" I shook my head in disbelief. "Must have lost track of time. Yes, you can go, I'll be fine here by myself."

She smiled, bowing respectfully and seeing herself out. "Thank you, sir. Have a good night."

"You too, Sunhee."

I smiled myself, her happiness contagious as always. She had been my secretary for a good 8 years, and had not once failed to be of the utmost help when I needed it. So I never missed an opportunity to let her go early, as was the case today.

I finished up the paperwork as quickly as I could, and then had an idea. I picked up my phone once more and dialed Natty's number.

She picked up almost immediately.

"Oppa?"

The sound of her voice after such a long day was like music to my ears.

"Hey, baby." I paused, smiling. "What do you think about dinner together tonight?"

...

I had planned to head straight home to change and get ready, but on my way home I spotted a familiar sign that read "예작쥬얼리" (Yei-Jak Jewelry), and another idea formed in my head.

I parked my car on the side of the street by the shop and stepped out, taking off my sunglasses and walking into the shop. The store's owner, who I knew quite well, was happy to see me back.

"Ah, Mr. L/N. Long time no see."

I chuckled. "Been about three months, hasn't it, Seo-jun?"

"Indeed, about that. What shall it be today, my friend?"

"Hmm..." I looked around at the various options on shelves, in display containers, and inside the glass cabinet in front of me, and decided I'd let him pick. "I'm thinking something gold. Elegant. Robust, but subtle. Maybe inlaid with a stone...something fit for a woman of unrivaled grace and elegance."

"I see." He smiled. "Well, I happen to have a perfect little piece for such a woman...we just got it handmade..." He walked into the back of the shop and brought out a small box, which he opened and took a case out of. It was a velvety, dark blue case with "예작쥬얼리" stamped in gold letters. Upon my opening the box, a light turned on and shone upon an artistic and sophisticated golden necklace, inlaid with a tanzanite pendant, which was surrounded by tiny diamonds.

"Solid 24 carat gold chain with a titanium lobster clasp, one 120 carat kite cut tanzanite stone, and fifteen .25 carat round cut diamonds. All pure and natural materials, hand-crafted in and shipped directly from Florence, Italy."

I nodded approvingly. "Sounds very good. How much?"

"That will be...$1500." He leaned forward. "Don't tell anyone, but it would normally be $1800."

I pulled my wallet out of my jacket pocket, smiling, and took out my card. After he entered the amount, I swiped it and put it back in my wallet. He handed me the box, shutting it, and I stowed my wallet back in the pocket.

"Thanks very much, Seo-jun."

"Anytime, Mr. L/N." He smiled as I saw myself out.

I hopped back in my car and hurried home with the necklace, already beginning to imagine Natty's face when she got it. Just the thought made me happy, and my mind was consumed with thoughts of her as I changed into my best suit.

I fixed my hair, which the wind from my convertible's open roof had messed up, and secured it with gel, touched up the polish on my shoes, straightened my tie, spritzed my favorite cologne on my purse points, and tucked in my pocket square.

Let's do this.

...

I picked Natty up from her apartment at about 6:20 pm, her looking as beautiful as ever. She was wearing a tight black dress that showed just the slightest hint of cleavage and most of her thighs; just enough to leave me wanting more.

I stepped out and took her in my arms, kissing her neck passionately. "Hey, babe." I murmured into her ear, and she buried her face in my jacket, giggling.

"Ooh, you smell good oppa."

I chuckled. "It's Bleu de Chanel. You like it?" (I know I do)

She took a deep inhale before pulling back slightly, smiling up at me. "Yeah, I love that one."

I smiled back, giving her another peck on the lips. "Great, let's go."

I pulled up to the restaurant in my car with the roof down and sunglasses on, despite the fact that it was 6:30 pm and the sun was entirely set.

I stepped out, walked around and helped Natty out, straightened my blazer, and placed my key into the outstretched hand of the valet. He looked fairly excited to drive it, and I smirked at his expression. He stepped into the car and the engine roared at his touch on the pedals.

"Classy ride, sir."

I nodded and chuckled. "Indeed it is. Be careful, it wasn't cheap."

He nodded. "Of course, sir." Then he pulled away, the car's rear headlights blazing. I waited by the

Arm in arm, we walked into the bustling restaurant, the brightly lit sign on the exterior wall shining in my eyes: 중식당

"Reservation for L/N?" I said to the host, who nodded. "Right this way, sir."

We followed him to a small, two-seater table with a white, gold-laced tablecloth and a candle burning low in a fancy golden candlestick. The host nodded at our thanks and then returned to his post. We sat down, and were immediately approached by a waiter.

"Anything to drink, sir? Miss?"

I considered for a moment. "What do you have as far as wine?"

The waiter smiled. "Allow me to get you a menu."

He returned moments later with two meal menus and a small drink menu. Upon opening it, I immediately found my choice: Argiano Brunello di Montalcino, choice from Tuscany.

"The Argiano, please. Yes, the bottle."

"Yes, sir." He bustled off to get the bottle and we were left to each other again.

"So," I said, loosening my tie a bit in the warmth of the building and looking into her eyes, "got any plans for later?"

"Oh, I think I do." She said playfully. "Or should I say...we do."

I smirked. "Funny, I was thinking the same thing."

The waiter came back with the bottle and filled our glasses, leaving it in a bucket of ice.

"A toast?" She suggested, holding up her glass."

"Alright." I sloshed the wine in my glass around and raised it. "Here's to...a long night of pounding you senseless."

She giggled, blushing, and clinked her glass against mine. "Cheers to that, oppa."

We both took a small sip of the fine wine, the fresh initial notes and tart aftertaste making the drink quite the magnificent choice.

"Mm," she said, after setting her glass down. "Good choice, oppa."

"Indeed." I took another small nip of the wine before setting my own glass down and picking up the menu. "Jungsik's choices of entrees are quite nice as well."

The waiter approached once more, this time with a notepad. "Perhaps an appetizer, sir? Miss?"

I reviewed their options, and almost immediately found the choice option.

"The sea urchin bibimbap, please." (Yes, I did look up the menu. You're welcome.)

"Excellent choice, sir. Miss?"

"Kimbap, please."

The waiter nodded. "Yes, miss."

He left with our orders. Surprisingly quickly, in a matter of minutes, he returned with our dishes on a platter, and handed each of them to us respectively. He bowed and left again.

As always, the food was impeccable, and we hadn't even gotten the entrees yet. I was barely paying attention to the food, since my hands were really starting to itch towards the case in my pocket. But I held off on it, knowing I should save it for later.

After a short time, the waiter came back and collected out bowls, ready to take the next order.

I ordered the langoustine (for reference, this is a dish made with Norwegian lobster), and Natty got the duck (self-explanatory). Then we were left alone to our conversation.

The taste of langoustine is incomparable; a juicy, slightly sweet, and a bit creamy fish, it's not quite like anything else, including its Pacific lobster counterparts. The exquisite substance's flavor and juices spread over my tongue, satisfying every receptor cell, quite like Natty's.

Wait, what?

Before I could stop the dirty analogy from blossoming into a fully fledged fantasy, quite the erotic image floated to the surface of my mind. My mind's eye traveled down Natty's naked body, spread eagled on my bed, wet and needy. I dispelled it's fast as I could before I got hard right there in my seat, but I knew that image would become reality soon enough.

"I know what you're thinking about, oppa." Natty said in a playful tone, though it was laced with a faint trace of seduction. "I know that look."

"Oh, do you?" I leaned forward, swallowing my last bite of lobster. I raised my eyebrows and smirked, knowing she was right. "Then tell me."

The flame light from the candle shone and danced on her face and in her eyes, giving them a dark glow as she looked at me. "You're thinking about me." She said in a quiet voice. "Horny, wet, and wanting you really bad. Well guess what, oppa." she continued, inclining her head towards me. "That's me right now."

"Oh really?" My smirk widened. "Better finish up quick then. You get dessert when we get home."

"Looking forward to that, daddy."

We weren't generally a kinky couple, but her words did in fact make my cock twitch a bit. She took care to chew her last bite very slowly; seemingly savoring the taste with relish and puckering her lips a bit with each movement of her jaw. She swallowed very controlledly, giving a small sigh as though of enjoyment, and looked me right in the eye, as though daring me to do something about it, an initiative I was wholeheartedly willing to endorse but unfortunately couldn't, at least not right now.

The waiter came around, seeing that we had finished, and I asked for the bill, which I already knew would be pricey but entirely worth it. I paid the extortionate bill and then we stood to leave. At the door, I decided it was time.

I took the small box out of my pocket while walking behind her. "Natty?"

She turned and looked at me, inclining her head. "Yes?"

"I have something for you."

I opened the box behind my back and then brought it around. She gasped at the sight of it, her hands flying to her mouth. I held it out and open as if I were proposing, and she took it into one hand silently, eyes locked on the pendant and one hand still over her mouth.

"Oppa..." She looked back up at me, eyes wide. "For me?"

I smiled. "Yes, for you."

She was quiet for a short moment and then she sprang towards me and threw her arms around me, beaming and giggling. "Thank you so much oppa! It's beautiful!"

I couldn't help but smile myself at her elation, a sense of happiness filling me as well. She pulled back slightly, absolutely glowing with joy, and then she sprung up on her toes and kissed me, still smiling against my lips. She broke it off and hugged me again, resting her head on my shoulder.

"You're welcome, baby." I said into her ear. "I love you."

"I love you too." Her voice sounded in my ear.

Her eyes were radiant with happiness as she took a step back.

"S-should I put it on?"

"Yes, of course. I didn't get it for nothing, did I?"

She took the necklace out of its case and clasped it around her neck, and the pendant fell and dangled just below her collarbone, making a very nice addition to the black dress.

"How does it look?" She asked, striking a pose.

"Beautiful. You look beautiful."

She beamed once more and hugged me again.

"Let's get on the way, shall we?"

We walked to the car arm-in-arm, and then we started the drive home.

"Oppa," Natty said a minute into the drive, after reverently putting the necklace back in its case. "How much did you pay for this necklace?"

"Uhhhm...let's not get into that." I replied, and we both laughed.

...

I parked my car in my garage and led her inside, and as soon as the door was shut behind me I pushed her against it, and she moaned as I kissed her, hands snaking around her waist and caressing her ass. She slipped her arms around my shoulders and deepened the kiss. I steered the two of us towards the bedroom, shedding my blazer and laying it over the couch as we made our way to the door. Once inside, I loosened my tie while she let her dress slip down over her slender form, revealing the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra or panties. I unbuttoned my shirt and stripped it off, and she bit her lip at the sight. She approached and slowly ran her hands over my bare chest, and I made her gasp as I reached down and rubbed her exposed pussy lightly. Her eyebrows arched and her breathing became heavier, a small moan escaping her at my touch. I unbuttoned my pants and rid myself of them and my boxers, and she knelt without hesitation, putting her hair back out of her face.

"Fuck," I groaned, her warm lips sliding smoothly over my tip. Within seconds, she had reached the base, gagging obscenely and sending ripples of pleasure through me. "God, Natty..."

She popped off me and replaced her mouth with her hand. "Mm, you like that oppa?"

She didn't give me time to answer before diving back in. I grabbed her head and pumped my hips forward, thrusting deeper into her throat. She kept a steady and unwavering gaze on me even as she throated me. She have herself no pauses, no breaks, and no mercy, impaling her throat on my cock. I moaned and pulled her deeper, and her eyes rolled back as she choked.

I pulled out of her throat, not wanting to cum too soon, and lifted her onto her feet. She panted for a moment and then laid across the bed, legs spread enticingly. I jumped on that opportunity, and knelt at the edge of the bed. A yelp escaped her lips as I buried my face between her thighs, tonguing her folds with expert finesse. She clutched my head and tugged at my hair gently, moaning and giving small shivers of pleasure as I licked her. I swiped and pressed on her clit with my tongue and circled her entrance with well-practiced ease.

"Oh, oh fuck oppa, it feels so good!" She cried. "Yes, yes, oh god yes, keep going!"

I pushed two fingers into her pussy and pistons my arm back and forth at a very fast pace, grazing her g-spot and making her moan louder, body trembling slightly as she neared her peak. The combination of sensations was quickly driving her to an orgasm.

"I'm gonna c-cum oppa it's too good!" Her whines of pleasure filled my ears, fueling me to go harder, faster. I pumped my fingers into her powerfully, her hands grasping my head crazily and pulling me further in. "G-gonna cum..."

I curled my fingers up into her g-spot and rubbed roughly, which finally did the trick to make her cum. She bucked her hips into my face as she squirted onto me, a gush of liquid spraying over my face and upper chest while she shrieked in pleasure, her hands clutching at the bedsheets.

She fell limp onto the bed again, breathing quickly and shakily as if she'd just run a marathon. I got up, letting her recover for a moment, and then climbed onto the bed.

"Get up."

She obeyed without hesitation, maneuvering onto her hands and knees in front of me, presenting her pussy to be fucked. I moved forward and slid into her tight, wet pussy with a loud groan.

"Mmmph!" She squealed, letting her head fall down so her ass was in the air. A sweet symphony of pleasure began to rise from her as I started slowly, moving my hips back and forth.

"Mmmh yes, that's - fuck..."

Her body pushed back against me, wanting more, and I grabbed her waist and pushed harder, drilling past the resistance and probing deep spots in her.

"Ah...oh god, oh fuck!"

I snapped my hips forward, drawing a cry from her, and picking up my pace, fucking her faster. My first touch on her hypersensitive clit made her gasp, her legs quivering, and then I resumed my earlier fingering of it, all while pounding her intensely.

"Fuck yes, don't stop! It feels so good oppa!"

I slipped my loose tie off my neck and put it around hers, and she gasped sharply as I tightened it and pulled her head back, bringing her torso up as well.

"Mmh yes choke me, pound me harder!"

Her pussy clenched around me and drew a moan from my own mouth, a throaty sound that only served to voice a fraction of the incredibly pleasurable pressure that was being exerted on every millimeter of my shaft.

"You're so big inside me oppa! So good, fuck! You fill me up so good..."

"Fuck!" I pumped harder, giving the tie a small yank, which made her gasp. I slapped her ass hard, making her yelp, and reached around to finger her clit. The blend of sensations and pleasures was rapidly pushing her closer to her climax. Her legs trembled and quivered with each forceful thrust, and her moans started to get louder. I smacked her ass again, and she pushed her hips back against me, meeting my at the apex of my thrusts. Pushing her shoulders down and making her ass stick up, I raised the angle of my movements to go deeper inside her, bottoming out with each stroke.

"Oh god it's so deep, you're so fucking d-deep in me! I'm gonna cum!"

I grunted with the effort of keeping up the strenuous pace, the pleasure starting to overtake me as well. It built, slowly at first but then at an exponential pace.

"God, you're so tight, fuck!"

"F-fuck, I'm cumming..." Natty moaned, voice trailing off in the orgasmic pleasure of her peak. A moment later, her voice erupted in a fresh wail as she reached it. Her juices splattered over my balls and thighs, the sensation proving to be too much for me too.

I buried myself as far as I could go inside her and exploded, groaning loudly as my cum spewed deep into her womb. She moaned again at the sensation and then collapsed, body shaking. I settled next to her, thinking we'd get a quick rest before cleaning up.

...

A while later, I got up and headed to the bathroom. I went to my bathtub and filled it full of hot water and soap bubbles, then went back to the bed and picked Natty up. She was half asleep, but came to full consciousness once I lifted her. I lowered her into the water slowly, and she whimpered quietly at the feeling of the hot water on her hypersensitive pussy. She relaxed and sighed softly once she was submerged, and then I climbed into the tub with her. I moved her in font of me so her back was against my chest, and she rested her head against it languidly, resting in the warmth.

"Thank you oppa."

I reached my arms around her and pulled her closer, kissing her neck lovingly. She moaned softly, hands caressing my thighs.

"You're so beautiful, baby."

She giggled. "So are you."

I chuckled. "I'm beautiful?"

"No." She tilted her head back and planted a kiss on my jaw. "Sexy."

I smirked. "That's more like it."

We sat there soaking in the water for a while more, enjoying being with each other, until I got out, churning the water around loudly, and drained it. It was pretty hard resisting the temptation of fucking her soapy naked body again, but I knew she was tired out for now and wanted to rest. I hoisted her out of the tub and dried us both off, then sat down on the bed with her. She covered the two of us with a blanket and snuggled close to me, looking adorable with her hair all wet.

"Oppa we should watch a movie."

I nodded. "Good idea."

I grabbed the remote from the bedside table and turned on my TV.

"What do you wanna watch babe?"

"I dunno, something...action."

I smiled. "Oh, I have an idea."

Heading over to Netflix, I put on Extraction (this movie is SO GOOD), and settled in for a solid 2 hours of nonstop gunshots , punches, and stabs.

It was going to be a good night.

A/N: Might not be perfect, but as always I'm busy, so I have to do things as quick as I can. I hope you enjoyed!