#probably because not really lecherous

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 2

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.8k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), explicit language, cheating, pregnancy, smut – PIV sex (doggy style)

Summary: You deal with the aftermath of your summer babysitting job turned adulterous summer scandal.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for all the kind words and support on Part 1 of this! I hope you enjoy part 2, and who knows, maybe I'll write a part 3 one day lol. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Taglist: @scorpiosugar @diegojeanne @f4irygard3n @cvixmei @soniiyi - more tags in the comments

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You blink away the tears in your eyes, holding the pregnancy test, hoping that somehow, you’ll blink away the second line indicating that you are indeed pregnant.

“No way.” Chiyo waits for you outside the stall, the apprehension in her voice apparent.

“Yes. I’m…” There’s a lump in your throat you have to swallow before you finish your sentence. “Pregnant.”

Your best friend’s silence on the other side only makes you panic more, but you don’t blame her. What can she really say to make any of this better? To stop your world from turning upside down?

She whispers your name quietly, at a complete loss for words. Then, she clears her throat, sounding as if she’s fighting tears herself. “I’m going to buy you a melon pan. Just…wait for me here, okay?” It’s the only consolation she can offer you in this moment, huddled in a public restroom of a convenience store; you appreciate the effort, nonetheless. You wait for her to leave, completely alone now. As soon as she’s gone, you sob into your hands.

It's not that you oppose being a mother. You’ve always imagined handing a positive pregnancy test to the love of your life with the biggest smile on your face, excited to raise a family together. Ideally, this would have happened sometime in the future, once you’ve established yourself as a full-fledged adult. Not like this: twenty-one years-old, less than a year until graduation without the slightest clue what you’re doing with your life. Worst of all, the father isn’t your husband, a boyfriend, even a friend. It’s Toji Fushiguro, the dad of the little boy you babysat over the summer, the husband of the kind woman who hired you. You still haven’t forgiven yourself for your adultery, the guilt eating away at you since the start of that lecherous summer fling. And now, you have this pee-on-a-stick to remind you how incredibly reckless you were to get involved with him in the first place. How undeniably irresponsible you were to have unprotected sex with a married man. Sure, it was the best sex you’ll probably ever have in your life. But was it worth it?

You wrap the pregnancy test in toilet paper, tossing it in the trash bin. Knowing that no good will come out of sulking in the 7-11 bathroom any longer, you finally exit the stall, washing your hands clean at the sink. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, fixated on your belly, wondering what it will look like round and full of life. It buzzes again, snapping you out of your trance. When you check to see who’s messaging, you almost drop your phone out of shock.

Somehow, someway, the universe has it out for you. Because in the most perfectly disastrous timing ever, Mrs. Fushiguro decides to contact you.

~~~

A week later, you’re sitting on the train, heading to the Fushiguro household. Your stomach is in knots, both from anxiety and from the morning sickness. Sweat beads on your forehead, skin sticky against your clothing in this hot weather. The closer you approach your destined stop, the more and more nervous you get, almost convinced to call the whole thing off.

Believe it or not, Mrs. Fushiguro did not contact you to confront you about the dirty deeds you did with her husband. Instead, she messaged you in dire need of a babysitter once again. She spares you the details, asking if you could meet her in person to better explain herself. And for whatever reason, you agree.

You haven’t come up with a solid plan yet on what you want to do about your little predicament. So far, the only people that know are Chiyo and your parents, who, after the initial shock of it all, have been surprisingly supportive. They advised you to take the rest of the term off, which you were able to get arranged quickly through your school. This gives you several weeks to decide what you need to do. With one issue resolved, it leaves you with the next, and the most pressing: whether or not you should tell the father. The last thing you want is to break apart the Fushiguro family. You’re fully prepared to raise this baby as a single mother, which, with the help of your parents and best friend, seems doable. Besides, you’re not even sure if you want Toji to be involved considering his complete lack of interest in his other child, Megumi. Despite that, you believe that as the father, he has the right to know. Can you gather the courage to actually tell him?

Still lost in your train of thought, you hop off to walk to the house. When you arrive, you spot Mrs. Fushiguro already outside, leaning against her car in the driveway with little Megumi in her arms. They both smile upon seeing you, warming your heart. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever is to come. 

“Hello Mrs. Fushiguro,” you greet her, bowing politely, too shy to meet her gaze. “How are you?”

“Doing really well. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” She lets her son down, who steps towards you until he’s hugging your knee, cooing. “I wanted to talk to you in person about my complicated situation.”

“Is everything alright?” you ask, unable to resist kneeling down to meet Megumi at eye level, making funny faces at him.

She giggles. “Oh, everything is great! The divorce finally went through and I’m living with my new boyfriend now, who’s been the absolute best, especially with Megumi.”

You make a shocked expression, mouth agape, exaggerated for the kid’s entertainment, though you’re pretty much stunned yourself. “Divorce…?”

“Yeah! Toji and I have been separated for a long time now. I’m sorry I didn’t mention that over the summer. You’re still so young after all, no need to rope you into adult things.”

You almost bust out laughing at the irony, but you hold your tongue, continuing to listen to her.

She sighs, flipping her long, beautiful hair behind her shoulders. “That being said, I still care about the guy. I mean, he is the father of my child. Without me or Megumi there on a regular basis, the whole house has gone to shit. It seems like he’s actually taking this divorce pretty hard. So, I want to hire you as a babysitter for my ex-husband. Just for a little while until he can get back up on his feet.”

Another shocked face, which makes Megumi laugh while dread sinks into your chest. “Babysitter…?”

“Babysitter, housekeeper, whatever you want to call it. You did such a wonderful job with him over the summer, even while you were taking care of Megumi! I don’t know what you were feeding him. Whatever it was, he was definitely a little bit nicer when you were around.”

Lewd flashbacks replay in your mind of Toji eating you out sloppily, slurping up all your pussy juices in every room of the house. You focus on the ground, too ashamed to look at her. “Mrs. Fushiguro, I don’t know if I can do this.”

She squats to your level, reaching for your hand, holding it gently in hers. “I know this is a lot of ask. You’re the only one I can rely on for this. Please.”

A sense of déjà vu hits you. There’s desperation in her tone and it tugs at your heartstrings the same way it did when you first met her a few months ago. It doesn’t help that Megumi is now squeezing the index finger of your other hand, eyes full of curious wonder, grip surprisingly strong for such a young child. Would she be pleading with you like this if she knew the truth about you, Toji, and the baby? Even though they were separated during this whole ordeal, it doesn’t make what you did any better; you still decided to do it regardless of their marital status.

Maybe you can use this opportunity as a way to atone.  

You finally look at her, giving the most convincing smile you can muster, trying your best to ignore the wave of nausea washing over you. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

~~~

Mrs. Fushiguro asks you to start at noon the following day, giving her enough time to notify her ex about your temporary employment. When you use the set of keys she gave you to open the front door, you step inside cautiously, not sure what to expect. You’ve been dreading this impromptu reunion all night, wondering if you could even face him.

It’s a mess inside, heaps of dirty laundry scattered all over the furniture, fast food wrappers and empty ramen bowls littered on the kitchen counter. There’s a stench lingering in the stale air in here and you almost think the worse, but Mrs. Fushiguro had warned you about this. Seeing it in person is more heartbreaking than disgusting. Toji really is taking this divorce hard. It wouldn’t be right to burden him with more life-changing news, right?

You begin by gathering all the trash into garbage bags, flattening any cardboard to recycle. By the looks of it, he’s been living off junk food and protein bars for the past month. The refrigerator is near empty, aside from a questionable take-out container in the very back, which you end up dumping along with everything else. You make it your next task to get groceries after you load the washing machine.

When you return from the store, Toji remains absent. Nerves prevent you from leaning against the bedroom door to listen for any signs of him in there. His ex-wife mentioned that he goes out to gamble at the horse races whenever he’s short on cash, so it’s likely he’s there. Still, you’re anticipating his return, mentally preparing yourself for how you’ll behave around him. Given your current circumstances, you are serious about turning over a new leaf. No more funny business with him. Absolutely not.

It’s near dinnertime now and you’ve miraculously accomplished tidying the house and doing his laundry all within a few hours. You even managed to cook soup for dinner, full of hearty beef and fresh vegetables, something to provide nutrients compared to the processed food he’s been consuming lately. You’re stirring the pot when you hear keys jingle from outside the front door. He comes in, clad in a tight-fitting black shirt that accentuates his muscles and grey sweatpants that don't leave much to the imagination. A plastic bag is slung behind his shoulder, clearly from a convenience store. Despite his concerning diet, his physique is still impressive as ever. Just one glance at him has you fluttering below your belly, replaying the erotic memories you share together. You turn to face him, standing up straight, feigning confidence while you fret internally. He looks at you, brow raised slightly, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Hello sir,” you greet him, bowing politely. Acting as if he’s a total stranger and not the man who rocked your entire world over the summer, now with evidence to prove it.

He sets the bag on the counter, revealing a couple of ramen packets inside. “What’s with the formalities?” he asks, grinning. “If I remember correctly, you were screaming my name nonstop the last time you were here.”

Heat rushes into your cheeks instantly, not surprised by his vulgarity, though still embarrassed. You clear your throat, trying to stay strong. “I’m here to work. Nothing else.”

He walks towards you, his stature casting a daunting shadow as he steps closer and closer, towering over you. His voice is low, borderline threatening to a point that has you trembling. “So you don’t want me to fuck you anymore?”

You swallow hard, composure wavering. “That’s right.”  Even you don’t fully believe it when it comes out of your own mouth, how can you expect him to?

There’s a strange look in his eyes, almost like he’s disappointed by your response. He turns his back to you, mumbling something about taking a shower. You watch him enter his bedroom, hearing him clear as day before he shuts the door with a dull thud. “I guess you don’t want me either.”

~~~

A week into being Toji’s live-in housekeeper, the two of you figure out a routine together that involves minimal interaction. You wake up in the morning to cook breakfast, eating it quickly and leaving the rest for him while you go out. You use this time to go for a walk, meet with Chiyo or your parents, do some grocery shopping, or just sit at the nearby park, enjoying the sun with your baby, who grows little-by-little each day.

Toji is usually gone the whole afternoon, either working out or gambling, so you’re able to do chores back at the house, like cleaning his room. He doesn’t return until dinnertime when tension seems to be at its highest. A big reason for that is because he’s made it a habit to eat right after his shower, shirtless and with his legs crossed on the floor, displaying a perfectly visible outline of his manhood. It’s distracting, to say the least. Chiyo mentioned the other day how you can have an increased libido during the first trimester. That’s definitely proving itself now.

Aside from the half-nakedness, something else surprises you about him. The two of you mostly avoid conversation with each other, eating in silence at the dining table while sneaking furtive glances whenever you get a chance. But he never fails to mutter, “Thank you for the meal,” before washing the dishes at the sink, retreating back into his room when he’s done. It’s the tiniest act of consideration that makes you wonder what’s going on in his head.

Tonight you sit across from each other as usual. You just finished eating the chicken katsu you made for dinner, along with a couple of side dishes you prepped earlier in the week. His abs look especially spectacular today and you find it harder than usual to stop peeking at them.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through me with the way you’re staring,” he says, chewing his last bite.

Shit, caught red-handed. You quickly look down at your empty bowl, mumbling an apology. “Sorry. I just…I can tell your hard work is paying off.”

“Yours too. The house has never been cleaner. And the food has never been better.” He’s looking directly at you, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you.”

It’s no good. Your hormones are raging, sexual desire courses through you, all from that stupidly handsome grin and a silly little compliment. How did you ever think you could resist him?

You stand up, grabbing everything from the table. “I’ll do the dishes,” you offer, walking them to the sink, trying to calm down.

It’s no use, though. He sees right through you.

He gives you only a minute alone before he follows you, caging you between his big arms, your back to him, his mouth hot on your ear. “Let me help you.”

You let out a frustrated huff, already unraveling from his proximity. The smallest jut of your hips and there it is, his erection pressed to your ass, throbbing and even more massive than you remember it. “Toji, we can’t,” you whine, not making any attempt to separate yourself from him.

He slides his hands around your hips, pulling you in closer, rubbing his rock-hard cock against you. “I know you want it. I know you want me.”

And he’s right. You do. You want him with you, around you, inside of you. In all the ways he’s had you before, in new ways he’s never had but you’ve fantasized about. There’s no denying it anymore. You want him. You want him so fucking bad.

He takes you right there at the kitchen sink, bent over with your grip tight on the edge of the counter, pounding away at your wet, needy cunt. Neither of you bother to remove your clothes completely, Toji’s sweatpants shrugged down his thighs just enough, yours pooled around your ankles, soaked panties at your knees. “Fuck, Toji!” you moan, sticking your ass out to meet his thrusts.

His fingers find your clit, rubbing slippery circles around it. “Say it,” he grunts, increasing the pace.

Drools leaks out from the sides of your lips, too fucked out to process what’s he’s asking you. “What?”

“Say you want me,” he demands, massaging your swollen bud so deep, you feel it all the way down to your fucking toes.

“I want you. I want you, Toji!” you respond breathlessly, squeezing him tight with your orgasm.

“Fuck, I missed you. Missed my good girl.” He continues to fuck you, slowly now, relishing every second of being inside you. “Always so fucking creamy for me, fuck.” He pulls you up to embrace you from behind, fingers still pleasuring you, his other hand at your chin to face you towards him. The two of you kiss passionately, lips smacking, tongues swirling. So sloppy and wanton that it puts you on the verge of another orgasm, completely succumbed to pleasure.

You sleep with him in his bedroom after several more orgasms and a big one of his own, wrapped comfortably in his arms, with his cock and creampie inside you the rest of the night. For the first time in a while, you’re oddly at peace.

~~~

Your reckless decision making has led you into another troublesome scenario. Fortunately, you haven’t had any morning sickness the entire first week of your employment at the Fushiguro household. Unfortunately, it decides to come back today. There’s no way you’ll be able to make it to the bathroom near your room, so you have no choice but to hop out of Toji’s bed and run into his, clutching onto the porcelain bowl until it’s all out. You rinse your mouth off at the sink, hoping Toji didn’t hear any of it. But you know all too well by now that luck is never on your side.

He’s sitting up against the headboard, watching you come out of the bathroom. “Did you just puke in there?” There’s a hint of concern in his normally blunt tone.

You nod, bending down to retrieve your underwear and pants off the floor, avoiding his gaze.

“Are you sick?” he asks, the worry even more obvious now.

Shaking your head, you respond, “No, I just…I’m feeling a little nauseous, that’s all.” You walk towards the door, still not willing to look at him. “There should be leftovers in the fridge, so help yourself to breakfast. I’m going to lay down.”

He calls out your name. “Wait – ”

You ignore him, closing the door shut behind you, letting the tears fall down your cheeks as you retreat into your own bedroom, muffling your sobs into a pillow. After your wild romp last night, this bout of morning sickness has swiftly brought you back to reality. You’re still harboring the secret growing in your womb from the man who gave it to you to begin with.

There’s a firm knock on your door, startling you. “Hey, it’s me.”

In this split-second, you decide to stop with the lies and finally tell the truth. You open the door, Toji standing in front of you fully clothed in his usual attire, a serious expression on his face. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Eyes still puffy from crying, you take a deep breath. “I’m pregnant. And you’re the father.”

His mouth parts the slightest bit, no words coming out of it. The silence seems to linger on forever. You fill it by rambling all the thoughts that have been swimming in your head the last couple of weeks. “Before you start freaking out or anything, I’m telling you so that you know. I don’t expect you to be involved. I’m perfectly willing to raise this child on my own. And besides, I won’t be completely alone. I have my family to help me, my friends too. I’ll be totally fine. This baby is going to be well taken care of, I’ll make sure of it. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just didn’t know how. But I feel better already because this has been stressing me out. It’s all going to work out okay? I think. I hope.”

After the long spiel, he stares down at the floor, jaw tight, mouth opening and closing, unsure how to respond. Eventually, he says, “I have to go.”

When he leaves the house, you crawl into your bed, bawling until there are no tears left for you to cry.

~~~

You wake up in the late afternoon to an enticing aroma wafting from the kitchen. It’s been hours since you’ve been in bed, moping about how poorly everything went with Toji. His reaction left you devastated. While you always expected to do this alone, hearing his negative response to it hurts more than you anticipated it to.

Curious, you make your way into the kitchen, shocked to find Toji standing over the stove, stirring a pot, the soothing scent of soup surrounding you. “What’s going on?” you ask, noticing a plethora of fresh vegetables laid out on the counter, along with a big bottle of prenatal vitamins and various snacks.

He turns the heat off, covering the pot with a lid. “I’m cooking,” he answers, facing you with a grin on his face. “Bone broth is a good source of calcium. And you need to keep eating lots of veggies so our baby is strong, like me. No more of this instant ramen shit.”

“I thought you were upset,” you say, stepping closer to him.  

“I know. I’m sorry I left like that. I was shocked at first, I’ll admit it. But I started to get excited." He takes your hands in his. "I have a lot of regrets in my life, but being a father isn’t one of them. Being a bad father is. I want to change. I need to change. For Megumi. For our new little one. For you.”

Strangely enough, you believe in his heartfelt declaration. You smile at him, letting him go to stand in front of the stove, taking a whiff of the comforting aroma of the hot soup he made for you, happy tears welling in your eyes. He hugs you gently from behind, nuzzling his nose to you. “I’m going to do it right this time, okay? I know I can do it with you.”

As Toji caresses your belly, kissing you softly along the neck, you feel the weight that’s been heavy on your shoulders ease up. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

[sunderwight]

Thinking about how lucky it is that Shen Qingqiu (SY version) never gave Luo Binghe the wrong impression that he wanted a harem.

Like imagine they've having a conversation and Shen Qingqiu makes some offhanded comment about a harem is all well and good, but he thinks it should definitely be of a manageable size, hint hint, with individuals who get along harmoniously and support their primary spouse, hint hint, and marrying almost everyone you hook up with is just bad form because it's inevitably going to cause friction and it'd be nearly impossible to properly look after that many extra spouses, hint hint.

Luo Binghe picks up on the hints but draws the entirely incorrect conclusions. Combined with his previous inquiries into what kinds of women his shizun likes (SQQ, not wanting to ever be seen as LBH's potential romantic rival and eager to free himself of the original's lecherous reputation: I have no interest in any women whatsoever!) and some subtle inquiries about when a person should settle down (SQQ, with unexamined anxiety at the prospect of his dear disciple heading out into the world: not too soon! a man should establish himself well and figure out what he likes first, and take his time!), Luo Binghe concludes that his master has been biding his time and is building up to constructing a reasonably-sized harem of malewives.

Because apparently, Shizun believes that a man in a position of significant power should inevitably want such things. And disciple Binghe isn't thinking of "a position of significant power" as "effective god-emperor of the whole world", his current ideas of such things are more along the lines of "peak lord" really. Also why should Shen Qingqiu make so many comments about how Luo Binghe must surely be anxious to start taking lovers or daydreaming about having a billion wives unless he just thinks that's the standard for everyone? Because that's what he wants?

It was chaotic enough when just one of these guys was bracing himself for the inevitable harem-building, but if Binghe also expected he was going to have to supply Shen Qingqiu with a stable of other men, hoo boy. Binghe telling himself that he's fine with it. As long as he's first wife, Shizun can have others. Getting particularly vicious towards new guys Shen Qingqiu meets, like okay he's resigned himself to Liu Qingge, and probably maybe also Yue Qingyuan, and in those cases definitely having to fight them tooth and nail for primary spouse position (his plan is to become the undisputed master of the domestic sphere and thereby outrank them on that front, even if he can't beat their peak lord credentials), but anyone else is someone he can potentially chase off and Shizun will still have his reasonably-sized harem. If Gongyi Xiao wants into the harem he's going to have to earn it, and he's getting bottom of the pecking order!

Binghe, after they finally get together, trying to have frank discussions about the inevitable harem. Shen Qingqiu putting on a brave face because he, of course, thinks Binghe's talking about his own harem. Getting confused as to why Liu Qingge is suddenly factoring into the conversation. Then reaching entirely the wrong conclusion because oh right, Binghe is gay now and Liu Qingge is extremely pretty. Makes sense! Definitely not what Binghe means but it makes sense!

Actually this would be a hilarious way for bingliushen OT3 to happen. Just a complete comedy of errors where bingqiu are both trying to secure Liu Qingge for each other without ever concretely establishing that either of them wants him, even though they think they have.

[pseudowho]

Daddy

Dating apps are a hazard for men like Higuruma Hiromi...

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Higuruma Hiromi has a dating app on his phone.

It's not that he wanted it-- he really didnt. Two silly-drunk colleagues on a night out pushed him incessantly. The cool night air on the balcony made Hiromi shiver and seek out red wine for its warmth; it stripped Hiromi clean...or, it would have done, if not for his Junior Associates and their dirty talk.

"What do you mean you don't have a girlfriend, Higuruma?" The girl chirped, looking so appallingly young to Hiromi, with her mascara and lipstick all drunk-smudged.

"It's because he's working all the time, look at him, probably hasn't had a good fuck in years--" The boy bullied, really barely a man, sharing a cackle with his tipsy, sloppy friend.

"Alright, alright, that's enough!" Hiromi groaned, both hands sliding down his face as he leant back in his chair, "I'm after more than just 'a good fuck' as you so eloquently put it--" his colleagues laughed a dirty laugh, "--and I can get by without one, just because you two saplings have to wank furiously twice a day or you'd spontaneously combust--"

Hiromi was being ignored now, his two juniors chattering between themselves, deciding on a plan.

"Give us your phone, Higuruma," the girl wheedled, two hands clasped to Hiromi's forearm, "just for a minute."

Hiromi groaned again, running a hand through his hair, just wanting some peace and quiet; "sod off, I'm not giving you my phone--" and instantly the two voices were on him, rabbling, cajoling, bullying, until Hiromi waved his splayed long fingers at them.

Hiromi unlocked his phone, flipping it carelessly into the lap of the girl who clapped and squealed in excitement. Instantly, the two young drunks put their heads together, working on their dubious little project.

"Okay, all done, Mr.Higurumaaaa!" The girl sang, presenting his phone to him with a flourish, looking proud of herself. The boy sat, smug, looking at Hiromi like he'd done him a favour. Hiromi felt nervous already.

"What did you--" Hiromi looked down, and groaned for a third time to see a dating profile in his name. But, even he couldn't deny that the candid photo of him in the city skyline bar, loose-tied with a hand running through his black hair, wine-drunk and sultry, was good.

"I certainly won't be using that, thank you," Hiromi berated, to two raucous laughs. Hiromi snorted into his wine, shaking his head fondly at his juniors, and promptly forgot all about his new dating profile.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Some weeks later, in a fit of loneliness, Hiromi remembered it. Legs up on his sofa in the dark, really just wanting someone to talk to, and if they managed to talk him into bed, well, then that was just a bonus--

Hiromi felt a thrilled little leap in his belly-- his inbox was bursting. It didn't take long for the thrill to be replaced promptly by a little rancid coil of disgust.

"Why is she-- why is she calling me Daddy, she doesn't even know-- jesus wept..." Hiromi sifted through 24 year olds, 21 year olds, and even 18 year olds, in his inbox, with an immediately dismissive shudder, feeling like a lecherous old man even just for having been approached by them.

Even the tiny handful of 25-29s made him uncertain, wondering what they wanted from a man with a not inconsiderable amount of grey in his hair.

Feeling dirty and disappointed, Hiromi dropped the phone on his coffee table.

"I shall die a nun, I think," he said aloud to nobody in particular, resigned, lonely.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Darling-- darling-- put on some music for me will you? My hands, uh..." Hiromi waggled his hands, stood at the kitchen counter, chopping raw chicken.

You hummed in affirmation, wandering over to Hiromi, unlocking his phone for him. Hunting through his phone for his music, your other hand teasing his aproned waist, your jaw dropped to find an app languishing, overflowing with notifications.

"Hiromi! You've got a dating app?!" Hiromi spun, his mouth gaping, eyes wide with panic.

"Not-- no no no, it's not what you think--I just completely forgot I had it--"

"Oh shush, I don't think that, silly, I know you'd never do that--" you laughed, opening the app, raising your eyebrows with an appreciative whistle at the artistically languid photograph of Hiromi sprawled in a roof garden chair, long fingers curled around his red wine, looking to all the world as though he were the devil made flesh.

"I'll be having that, thank you," you pipped, saving the photo and sending it to yourself, "and what have we here?" You began to scroll through Hiromi's messages, interested, beginning to laugh.

"Wow, you uh...really attract the daddy-issues ones, huh?" Hiromi hung his head in shame, as you laughed at him, and begun to read some of the messages.

"Daddy looks like that lap needs a baby on it," your voice coy and 'innocent' in a way that made Hiromi audibly "UGH" at you, rushing to wash his hands, grabbing a dish cloth to whip you with as he chased you around the kitchen, laughing.

"Fine AF," you chirped, dodging Hiromi, falling back onto the sofa, still reading aloud in a nasal whine, "Daddyyyyyy."

"Enough of that, you sick little demon," Hiromi snapped, snatching his phone away, pressing you to the sofa, his hips pressed between your legs, nose and lips working with punishing insistence against your throat. You giggled again.

"Dadd--" Hiromi bit into your neck, his water-cooled fingers pinching your pebbling nipple through your top without warning, and you shivered in delight.

"You want a grown woman instead of a girl, these days, and you're the freak--" Hiromi complained, huffing, blushing and smirking down at you. You coiled your hair around a finger, looking up at him, biting your lip in a way that made Hiromi's cock twitch.

"You're saying I'm too old for all that?" You teased, sighing in faux-despair. You gasped as you felt Hiromi hum against your belly, kissing and nipping his way downwards.

"Shut up," Hiromi dismissed, "and let me taste you."

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

word count: 8.9K

paring: Wolf!Bakugou x fReader

warning(s): cunnilingus, marking (biting and claws), loss of virginity, loss of innocence, some blood (very minor and only mentioned briefly), and dirty talking/slight degradation.

authors note: well, hello again! I'm currently in the middle of writing something new, but I figured it might be a good idea to repost some of my favourite works from my old blog here - especially this one (and another one soon) as I will be adding a sort of continuation to this story; so best to have both in one place - just to tide you over until new pieces are done. Besides I am quite fond of this one, spun three wheels to get prompts (dialog of “Can I just hold your hand?” the trope of Fake Dating, and the AU being Fantasy). I've always enjoyed how this turned out, though it is one of my first works so apologies if it doesn't have the same caliber, and I hope you all do too - I know Bakugou is quite the favourtie~ 🔮

You weren’t from around here.

Bakugou could tell the moment you entered this seedy tavern, the way your boots clicked against the old wood made his ear shift to your direction, His whole head following suit when he could smell the sweet scent that sat on your skin.

You stuck out like a sore thumb. Maybe not to all the other low lives that surround this place, but Bakugou could tell. Your clothing, though it seemed to match that of the other women around, was too well-tailored; the cloth too fine and expensive and the leather used was not worn enough.

And you had jewels; real ones he could tell. Though you did hide them well, he just had very good eyesight. And really that was the main reason he kept his gaze on you. He wouldn’t mind snagging a few of them for himself; it would allow him to live comfortably for a while – and you could spare a few, couldn’t you?

But there was also a hint of curiosity too; a noble-born on the run? What kind were you exactly? A runaway Princess perhaps? No. He rolled his eyes at himself for the thought – there weren’t nearly enough royal guards around searching for you and causing a ruckus for you to be that.

But there were a few. So perhaps a Countess or even a Duchess? His money was on the latter. The way you carried yourself was not as self-assured and haughty as those that were countesses. If he remembered correctly, those women always flaunted their wealth because they had something to prove.

But the way you sat down and paid for a drink made it clear you didn’t have anything to prove; so, a countess you were not.

You were a pretty thing too. A beauty like you didn’t come around these parts often, and Bakugou couldn’t help but want to continue to look at you. He wasn’t the only one, all these lecherous creatures that were around kept glancing your way – their excitement clear as the whole place grew rowdier.

Not like they had a chance with you, not in hell. They would have to stick with the barmaids and brothels full of women to satisfy any of their barbaric needs. And though Bakugou was technically a part of these grotesque creatures, he was more human than anything; most wolves were. If anyone had a chance it was definitely him.

He knew he was good-looking, could probably pass for a Prince himself if it weren’t for the stupid ears, claws, and tail that held him back. Reduced him to living with others like him on the outskirts of the land, to be treated as a lesser than. That’s why he always found joy whenever a noble, like you, wandered around his turf. He loved scaring them, the frightened expressions as they tried to weakly defend themselves always proved that they were the ones that were beneath him.

But you were different. Bakugou didn’t want to scare you into giving him what he wanted, he wanted you to give it willingly.

“It’s rude to stare.” You mumbled, as you picked up the large mug placed before you and brought the frothy drink up to your lips.

“You’re not gonna like it.” Bakugou replied, eyes moving back to stare at his drink, swirling it, like he was doing before you walked in.

You just rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head lightly before taking a sip. The froth was nice and fizzy, but the rest of it all was the most bitter thing you ever placed in your mouth. You grimaced as it slid down your throat, making it burn all the way down to your stomach. You held back your coughs in defiance of the stranger beside you, not wanting to prove that he was right.

“Told you.” He chuckled, his tone mocking as he downed the rest of his drink, he rested the glass back down heavily on the counter before him “It’s the most bitter thing in this whole world, but it gets you messed up the fastest. But I don’t think you knew that, did you, princess?”

“Don’t call me that….” You mumble, bringing the glass back up to your lips – though it was awful it was helping you blend in more “M’not a princess”

“Could have fooled me.” Bakugou purred as he slunk closer to you, forgetting his glass entirely “Then what are you exactly?”

Your exasperated sigh just made his grin, wolfish and almost feral, spread wider on his face as he leaned on the bar counter; your arms almost touching. You shuffled as much as you could away from the stranger, his breath reeked of alcohol, and you weren’t overly comfortable with how close his face was to yours.

“A traveler, just like you.” You kept your tone pointed, trying your best to prove to this stranger that you didn’t want to talk to him or have him as close as he was.

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh really, now?” You asked through gritted teeth, unable to stop your angry gaze to fall back onto him and his shaking head “And how would you know?”

“These clothes….” He started picking at the wrist of your cotton sleeve, sharp claws ran delicately up and down your forearm “Are too nice, too well-tailored. If you really were a traveler then they wouldn’t be as clean and pristine. They would look more rugged like that chick over there.”

You followed his head movement to where a woman, surrounded by a few men around a dark wooden table, sat drinking merrily – not caring that with each shove and playful push would cause half their ale to slosh onto the floor. But the stranger was right, though her clothing looked nearly identical to you, it wasn’t quite as polished. Loose strings would hang off cuffs and hems, the colouring of the fabrics was more dull, not as vibrant. She looked like she had traveled across many lands, you looked like you just started.

“And” You tensed when you felt his breath in your ear and his hand wandering to your waist “Not many people around here have trinkets such as yours.”

You gulped, throat suddenly very dry, as you looked back at his face; the glint in his eyes made you even more nervous. A lamb suddenly in the jaws of the wolf.

“Are you going to rob me?” You asked, voice trembling. Fright filled your being and shook your body in his loose hold, as you watch him lick his lips “Are you going to hurt me?”

“No.” He chuckled, mirth feeling his being over your frightened state “I’m just wondering who you are, and why you showed up here.”

“Why?”

“Call it curiosity.” He shrugged his shoulders, eyes darting towards the entrance of the tavern; watching briefly as two well-dressed and armed men entered “And you better tell me quickly before they figure out you’re here.”

Your head darted to the entrance as well, eyes widening in fear as you saw the insignia engraved on their chest plates; there was no doubt they were here for you. And that bastard who wouldn’t let you go knew it too.

“Can I just hold your hand?”

“What!?” You whipped your head back as you watched him pull away from you, your breathing quickening in pace as your heart was thumping loudly in your chest that you knew that he could hear it.

“Just take my fucking hand!” He hissed at you, a hand quickly grasping yours before you really had a chance to reach it out to him.

He slunk his other arm so it was now encircled around your waist as he nodded his head at your drink; silently asking you to hold it up for him. You did with a shaky hand, the proximity of his entire being – having it wrapped around you like this – was making your cheeks flush red. You had never been this intimate with a man before, let alone with a stranger. It was all so incredibly overwhelming, it didn't help that being this close only made you realize how attractive he really was.

You wanted to take your eyes off his face, especially when you watched his tongue peek out from his lips to lick around his mouth at the few drops of your drink that spilled out due to your clumsy hand not keeping it steady. You could see his eyes darken and it made you want to shy away; out of fear or something else, you were not sure - the weird sensation that flushed your body was foreign and frightening.

You almost forgot all about the armed men hunting for you until you heard one call out to the pair of you; two pairs of boots rushing to where you sat. You wanted to let out a sigh of relief when his eyes moved from your face; but held back the urge.

“What?” His gruff tone proved he was agitated as he glared daggers at them, almost smirking when he saw them be taken aback by him.

“Excuse your tone!” One of them spoke first, chest-puffing out to look more intimidating than he was. “You do not speak that way to a royal guard!”

“Well, sorry” His mocking tone countered the apology “But I don’t appreciate having you assholes ruining the moment I was sharing.”

“Well, that woman-!” The other interjected, clearly not as afraid as his partner as he got into the stranger's face “Is the runaway Duchess of House L/N! And we are on direct orders to bring her back!”

‘Ah, so you were a Duchess’ Bakugou thought to himself as a smirk crept its way on his face; both out of knowing his assumption about you was right and from this dick of a man who thought he could take him on for size.

“Do you really fucking think that?”

“Don’t speak to me that way.” The man’s tone was dark, his teeth on display as he started to draw his sword out, to prove he meant serious business.

“Then don’t speak to me like that!” Bakugou snarled, fangs on display to show he also meant serious business “Or threaten me in front of my mate! Continue to do it and I’ll rip your throat out right here and now.”

The low, continuous, growl that was coming from his chest was breaking the guard’s tough façade – though it was barely noticeable. But Bakugou could tell that he was getting a little frightened by him, especially when he glanced towards your profile and saw you trembling with fear. Though he couldn’t stare at you for long as he watched a clawed hand place itself at the back of your head and pull you into his chest.

“If she really was the person you’re claiming her to be, then why the fuck would she be in here? Why would she be in a situation like this? Why would she let a beast like me this close?” Bakugou narrowed his eyes at the two men before, as if to challenge his logic wrong.

You both could see, though your vision was limited, the guard’s hand trembling on the hilt of his sword; clearly taking this stranger’s word as fact and now debating what to do next. Bakugou could see the conflict in his eyes – clearly not knowing if he should harass the two of you or move one. His partner, on the other hand, took a step away.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” Bakugou muttered, his eyes watching the weaker of the two, “Now if you’re done threatening us, I suggest you leave before this gets real fucking messy”

You had to commend his acting, truly, as the more brash guard stood upright. He muttered something under his breath, though you couldn’t hear, before both pairs of boots walked sullenly away from you; the footsteps becoming harder to hear the further they went until you couldn’t hear them anymore. A sign that they had left the tavern. The coast now being clear.

“They bought it?” You whispered, pulling yourself more upright as you looked towards where they left.

“Of course, they did” He shrugged, taking your drink once more and downing the last of it “They’re not smart. Besides….” You felt sharp claws take a gentle purchase under your chin to turn your head back to him “They wouldn’t want to fight someone like me”

“Aren’t you full of yourself?” You scoffed, moving away from him fully now. Your mind now coming back to you.

“A ‘you’re welcome’ would be fucking appropriate right now, sweetness. Especially seeing as I risk my life to get you out of that bind.”

You felt him grip your wrist again, and when you looked up at him you could see that same self-satisfied smirk back on his face. It made you roll your eyes and look away once more, a clear look of displeasure on your face as your lips formed a scowl.

He was right, he had helped you out of a really tough bind. His on-the-spot thinking meant that you didn’t have to go back to your home kicking and screaming within those guards’ hold. But, at the same time, he kept touching you without permission. Along with his full-of-himself attitude made saying your gratitude feel as bitter as that liquid burning down your throat.

“Thank you.” You finally managed to mutter out, pulling your hand away from his grip, your scowl deepening further.

“That muuuuuch better!” He cooed, his mocking tone made you ball your fists in anger; but that seemed to only spur him on even more “Now come on, pay up.”

“Pay up…?” You mumbled, your eyebrows furrowing as confusion replaced the annoyance “What…?”

“You owe me, sweetness. Did you a huge favor, now you’re gonna repay me in kind” His arms crossed over his chest that was now puffed out in overconfidence “I can think of a few ways you can too, though let’s start with why those losers were after you in the first place, duchess.”

You sighed; you knew that you had no real choice in the matter, there was no way you were getting out of this. He was strong, and though it was a little hard to tell due to his olive coat and baggy clothing, you were sure he could easily overpower you without breaking a sweat. And well, you weren’t made to fight.

“Fine. I –“ You began, only for one of his fingers to press against your lips; effectively shushing you from speaking further.

“Not here, sweetness” He smirked, enjoying that his little nickname made your nostrils flare in annoyance. “As much as I would love to see you plastered off your ass, I’ve had enough of those low-life extras staring at you.”

He tilted his head towards the other patrons. And true to his word a lot of them were giving you, what they thought were sneaky, glances your way. It could be due to the display that just occurred with those guards stomping your way and causing a scene, but with the suggested undertones of the stranger's words made you question those glances as innocent curiosity.

“Good idea…” You nodded, pulling your head away when you felt the tip of his claw tickle your nose.

You watched him get to his feet, offering you his hand after he got a few paces ahead of you; as if realizing that you didn’t know where he was going. You gingerly took hold of his hand and allowed him to pull you from your seat to stand before him. It was at that moment you realized just how tall and imposing he was compared to you. He didn’t really seem that way when he was hunched over the bar counter, but now? Well, it was enough to make a shiver run down your spine when he loomed over you with that wolfish smirk as he wrapped his arm around you and began to lead you out of the seedy place.

“W-wait!” You whispered; voice frantic as you tried to gain some sense of control over this less-than-ideal situation you found yourself in “I need to know your name before we go any further.”

You heard him huff out an annoyed groan, bringing his free hand up to pass through his hair before it fell limply at his side. “It’s Bakugou, now come on.”

He didn’t give you any time to say anything else, or really to process what he just said. His name only ran through your head with certainty when you felt the cool summer night’s air hit your face.

~ 

It was cold.

And damp. Though it was to be expected to some degree in the dense forest you were currently being dragged within. It put you on edge, every little thing that moved and seemed to whisper through the branches; made you tense and cause your breath to quicken at points.

Though after the first little leg of the journey you felt silly for being so afraid. Arguably the most fearsome creature within these forests was the one that was walking beside you in the first place, so really what harm could befall you if you had him on your side?

Bakugou.

He was leading you through this place with expert ease like he had done this thousands of times before to the point where it was more memory than thinking. To where, you were not sure, but given the familiarity and ease you could only assume he was leading you to his home; or den, or cave, or wherever it was a creature like him would rest his head.

The moment you began walking, out of earshot of all those around, he asked you to tell your tale; wanting to fill the silence and hear just what led you here in the first place. And though he was quite chatty at the tavern just moments prior, he was quiet now. Trudging along like it was a chore. Listening to you with almost disinterest even though he was the one curious about your situation in the first place.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t listening or found it boring. He was just lost in thought at the details of your story. How overly complicated life was like at court. All those rules and regulations on how to do the most mundane of things, like living and eating, all boiling down to a miserable, controlled, and boring life.

He didn’t envy you at all. If he had to wake up every day and be told what to wear, how to wear it, how to eat, how to talk to people, he may have just ended it all and run away too. No amount of wealth was worth living in such a way.

Though his interest peaked when you brought up the engagement. The straw that broke the camel’s back as it were; the whole reason you ran off in the first place. It caused his ear to stand pointed atop his head as he listened to your mutterings as best he could.

Enji Todoroki, that was the man who had asked for your hand. That was the man your parents more than willingly threw you out to if it meant more land to their name. Bakugou almost laughed at the sudden shift in your tone when speaking about him, with such anger and disdain. A far cry from the soft-spoken women you were moments prior.

But you couldn’t help it. You didn’t want to marry this cruel man. You didn’t want to be sold out to him like cattle simply for more prosperity for your family. The only reason he was interested was because you were a pretty young face, nothing more really.

It made Bakugou roll his eyes. Of course, Enji would be asking for your hand, even someone like him knew the habits of that old man. One recently separated from his wife and was now looking for a younger, prettier, bride. It was all people could gossip about for months. Wondering which woman he was going to propose to – and well it seemed like it was you.

It was ridiculous really. Not only could he be your father, but he also had sons that were of marrying age. In fact, a more suitable match would be for you to marry one of them. You knew that Shoto was your age, and it would still lead to fortune for your family as he would inherit plenty.

But no. Your parents wanted your life, your destiny, to be tied to the older man. To breed and bear his children until another younger and more beautiful thing came around. It happened to his previous wife, and you knew it would happen to you.

“I deserve more.” You declared, your rant about the whole situation over “I won’t even say I deserve love. I just want to be with someone who at least respects me, and I can tolerate sitting in a room with.”

You let out a loud sigh, glancing at your companion who was still as quiet and unreadable as when you started. The only thing that indicated that he was still listening, or just remembering your presence, was the small hums of acknowledgment he would give every now and then.

“I don’t think that’s too much to ask…” You mumble out, feeling slightly awkward from the silence that had now befallen you.

“Your life is ridiculous.” Bakugou finally muttered, bringing a hand up to move a branch out of his way “No wonder you want to fucking leave it. I wouldn’t wanna spend one day as you, let alone deal with that bullshit.”

He had a way with words, one that made you chuckle at how brash and crude they were. No one dared speak that way at court, let alone around a lady. But you found it refreshing that he didn’t care; that he spoke what was on his mind regardless of decorum. That he was honest.

“What are you smiling at?” Bakugou asked, tone irritated as he looked down at you – hating the way your lips turn upwards in that annoying little grin.

“Nothing…” You giggled out, your tone going up in a teasing way as you turned away from him. “You just talk differently.”

“Eh!? What do you mean by that!” He yelled, stepping ahead, and blocking your path with ease.

“I-I don’t mean any harm by it!” You held your hands up in defense to prove your point further “I like it actually…”

The way you mumbled out the last part, and how you bashfully moved your head to look downwards made the man before you smirk. That wolfish grin was back on his face, one that you didn’t know whether you missed or hated, as he leaned down to breathe in your ear. The way you shivered slightly when it hit your ear did not go unnoticed by him.

“If you like that, then you’ll love the way I sound when - !”

You pushed past him before he could even think of finishing that thought; catching him off guard if the little grunt was any indication. Your whole being was too flustered to even want to know where his mind was going.

“D-don’t!” You warned, your voice still sounding nervous but the volume it was at was proof you meant serious business “I don’t want to know!”

You were cute like this, Bakugou couldn’t deny. A little thing so easily flustered by him was refreshing, and it made the animal in him roar loudly. Oh, what he would do to something like you. He would absolutely wreck you, ruin any little part of innocence you had left within you.

His motive now changed. He no longer wanted your trust so you could give him those jewels that were tucked neatly away. He wanted something more precious, more untainted than money. But he would have to play it smart if he were ever going to obtain it.

“Come on,” Bakugou rolled his eyes, trying to seem unfazed by your little outburst “It’s only a little further ahead.”

“What is?” You asked, fidgeting on the spot as you watched him walk ahead and away from you once more – his arm pulling back a branch to clear the path before you.

“My house, dumbass. I want to get out of the cold as soon as possible, so hurry up!”

You didn’t hesitate to scramble yourself forward; feet trying their best to move as quickly as they could to heed his command. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to get out of the cold night’s air and get some rest. Even if it was in the home of the strange man-wolf in front of you.

~ ~ ~

His home was not what you expected it to be.

Not at all.

It was cozy. A small cottage that seemed just the right size for someone to live in comfort, but not with too much space to spare. It looked soft too, the upholstered chairs, his bed, even the bear-skinned rug before his fireplace, all looked so soft. That if you were to touch them you would delve into them – sinking eternally in their plushness.

It really was what you wanted most. You had been running all day, and after that walk through the forest to get here, only proved just how worn your feet and body had become. You sighed out in relief once you had the chance to take off those dreaded boots; watching in curiosity at the wolf before as he placed birch logs into the open maw of the fireplace. Humming constantly when those logs burned and quickly filled the home with a gentle warmth.

“Get over here.” You heard Bakugou growl out, watching him in confusion as he rested back on his haunches; elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed his hands together at the flickering flames. 

“Come on!” He urged again, head finally snapping back to you. Rolling his eyes at the witless expression on your face as you continued to stand uncomfortably at his threshold “I know you’re cold, so hurry and get yourself warm.”

You nodded your head, scrambling once more to heed his command. Feet padding gently on the wooden floor before it was muted by the softness of the fur before the fire. When you sat, you couldn’t stop yourself from running your hands through the dense fur, marveling at how it felt under your fingertips. This was possibly the only time you would ever get to touch this kind of beast, and you were going to enjoy it as much as you could.

Though, after a few moments the lure of the fire called your name. Your cold bones were unable to resist the temptation and you found yourself with outstretched arms towards it. Enjoying the warm glow as flames almost seemed to lick and nip at your fingertips.

“What’s your next step?” Bakugou asked, unable to keep himself quiet. Not when he had you all to himself once more “You’re staying the night, obviously. But after that.”

His tone made it clear that it wasn’t up for debate on whether or not you would find shelter here for the night or continue on your way. Not that you were complaining. You would spend every day here in the warm solitude this small cottage provided.

“I’m not sure…” You finally whispered out, after pondering that question in your head for a few moments. “To be honest I didn’t expect to get this far…”

You saw the look he gave you; it was a mixture of annoyance and disbelief. Like he couldn’t believe that you truly had no plan, no thoughts on where you might go and do, as you figured the moment you started to run you would be caged again. It made you pull your hands back into your lap, fidgeting with them nervously, clearly showing you were a little embarrassed by your truth.

“He’s a powerful man.” You reasoned, trying to get him to understand “And I have never known life outside of my family’s estate and court. I wasn’t expecting to get far with the little knowledge I had. Or with his hounds on my tail…”

You chuckled, Bakugou joining you for a moment as well, remembering those idiotic guards you had crossed paths with. How useless they were. Though, after tonight you knew more would be spread out in an attempt to find you. And as the man before you had stated the moment he met you, you stuck out in a crowd. So really, where could you go to hide?

“I have nowhere to go.” You finally admitted, shaking your head. You had been foolish to even think that this would work in the first place “Even if I were able to slip through the border, someone would alert them of me once I tried to sell my jewels. Or they would take them and sell me out for the bounty that will surely be over my head soon.”

“So what? That’s it?” Bakugou retorted, bewilderment in his tone at how easily you were accepting defeat “All that work just to go running back with your tail between your legs!?”

“I don’t have a choice!” You snapped back, eyes narrowing back at his own “I have no friends outside these walls. Only those that wish to see me go back to that horrid fate for a quick coin! Much like you!”

“I don’t want your stupid jewels anymore!” Bakugou defended, hands turning into fists at your truthful accusation – claws digging into his palms.

“So what? You still wanted them the first moment you saw them! Who is to say someone else won’t rob me for what I have on me, and leave me penniless and stranded? Or worse…”

You shook your head at those horrid thoughts. Not wanting to think of those dark and twisted outcomes that may befall you if you were to continue out of these woods. And though returning back to that man was not a fate you wished to have, it was better than whatever may come to you if you continued.

“The safest outcome for me is going back….”

You whispered your sealed fate; taking in a shaky breath to try and calm yourself down, trying your best to ignore the crimson eyes that stared intently at you. Though those breaths quickly turned heated as anger clouded your mind. You threw your fists against the rug as you let out a wail of frustration and anger over that decision; a foot kicking out to topple the small stack of wood that sat before you.

“It’s just not fair!” You declared through clenched teeth “It’s my life! Why can’t I have any say in how it will go!? Why do I have to marry that bastard?”

You took one glance at the man beside you, searching his eyes for some sort of answer. When you could not find one, you sighed out once more before bringing your knees to your chest, resting your chin upon them like a pouting child.

“If you’re gonna have to go back…” You heard Bakugou, his tone softer as if in sympathy for you, as he raked his brain for that solution you were hoping for “Then get even with them.”

“What?” You softly questioned, your face turning back to him – that wolfish grin was back, and it made you nervous at what he was going to say next.

“If you’re gonna have to marry that asshole no matter what. Then the best way to get back at them all is to give up that sweet virtue of yours. And what better ‘fuck-you’ would it be if you gave it to someone like me?”

Your mouth went dry at his words, finding it near impossible to swallow that lump that was now in your throat. He wanted you to do something that was ingrained into you since childhood as sacred; something only to be done to by the person you were to be bound with for the rest of your living days on this land.

And the almost casual way he brought it up, accompanied by those burning eyes – ones that made the fire before you seem mild in comparison – meant that this wasn’t his first time in seducing a lady; to ask her to keep him company for the night.

But a part of you couldn’t help but be seduced by it all. By the thought of going against tradition, against your family, and especially against that man that already broken the sacred oaths before; so why shouldn’t you? Why should you deny yourself this one, and only, rebellion you could dish out? Why should you deny yourself to feel the touch of this handsome man before you? One that seemed to want to give you, probably, the only night of passion and enjoyment you will ever receive?

You couldn’t.

And that was probably why you felt your heart nearly explode in your chest, as a fire ignited in your belly once you felt his warm and slightly chapped lips touch yours.

Your whole body seemed to melt when you felt his palm reach up to caress your cheek and pull you closer, and deeper, into the sweet kiss. A gesture that seemed so small, yet it showed to you a level of tenderness that he had yet to openly give you since you met him. It made you want to return his kiss with fervor.

Bakugou chuckled at your eagerness, finding it endearing at your clumsy and inexperienced actions that were hidden behind your enthusiasm. It meant that you wanted this. And if you wanted this, then it meant that he could show you a night you will never forget. One that you would remember every single time that old bastard took you into his bed at night – that whenever he took you, you would only be reminded of him instead.

That thought made Bakugou growl deep within his chest. For some reason, he really hated that thought. And when he pulled away from the kiss, he couldn’t help himself but duck lower, to your neck, and start to leave his mark on the untouched flesh.

Your whimpers doing nothing but spur him on. He wanted to hear every little sound you could make; wanted you to hear you wail, moan, and scream his name. The animal in him was being set loose, and he was trying his hardest to not let it run free. Though it was proving harder to do when he felt your trembling hands tug at his coat, feeling your hands slip under the fur of his collar to the smooth skin underneath it.

“Kiss me again” You breathlessly whispered to him, your hands pushing down on his neck to bring him closer “Please?”

Bakugou was unable to suppress his low groan at your words, as he brought his head away from your neck back up to yours. Lips clashing with yours in a messy kiss, one that he dominated easily. Who was he to say no to such a pretty request?

Your kisses become more urgent, almost hurried as the moments pass. Unable to let each other part for too long, even if it was to breathe. A part of it was because his lips felt so wonderful on yours, a tantalizing sensation that left you tingling all over. But the other reason was out of bashfulness. Unable to let yourself fully part from him, to look at him, as he slowly untied and unbuckled every piece of clothing you had.

His touches were gentle. The way his fingertips, and claws, would slightly drag over your skin, like a butterfly’s kiss, made goosebumps appear in their wake. Made you shiver and let out shaky breaths as you parted from one another. Your breath mingling with his, and allowing this reprieve, to fully undress.

You bit your tender lip when you felt his heated gaze wash over your skin. It made you squirm; made you place your hands around your chest to hide from his piercing gaze. Unable to stand the heat of it.

He truly was a predator that caught himself a prize, at least that’s how it seemed when he looked at you. He certainly didn’t appreciate you hiding your beautiful skin from him, your wonderful body. A low growl, one that almost mimicked the warning he gave to those guards an hour prior, rumbled into his chest as he pulled your arms away from your chest.

His grasp was firm, but not painful, you could feel the warning in it; telling you to not do something similar again as he laid your nearly bare form down onto the fur. Pinning your arms above your head

“Keep them there.” Bakugou commanded, his rumbling voice that resembled gravel made it clear to you that you had to obey.

And obey you did. You relaxed your arms and turned your wrist inwards as your fingers once again threaded through the bear’s fur. Trying your best to keep yourself grounded, avoiding becoming too sheepish, as to let him continue his ministries.

Swift hands made quick work of your skirts, ridding them and causing you to lay bare before him; the first man to ever see you this was since you were a babe. His gaze was telling more than words ever could at just how wonderful you seemed to look. And though you couldn’t keep eye contact with him for long, he could see the heat in your eyes as well once he started to shed his garments. That smug smirk was the main reason you turned your head away.

Bakugou’s hands started tracing your collarbone, following it along from shoulder to shoulder. His lips came down onto it a moment later to lavish it with wet kisses. You could feel his smirk on your skin when he nipped at a particularly tender spot, enjoying how your hips bucked up slightly into his own.

He was enjoying this as much as you. If the slight breeze of air that came in contact with your legs, the slight brush of coarse hair, caused by the wagging of his tail was any sign. It made you giggle breathless as you watched the appendage pick up speed the lower his lips descended on your body.

He kept up this tender care all throughout your chest. Slowly moving his hands downward, his lips following moments later over the swell of your breasts, allowing the soft kisses to distract you as his fingers pinched at your hardening nipples.

Your mewls spurred him on to take one of the hardened buds into his mouth, eyes glancing up to see if you were liking the way his tongue flicked over it rapidly. Chuckling when you arched your back, and let out a keen, over what he was doing to you. That needy whine sent shivers straight to his cock, as it bobbed up against his stomach.

It was only when his hands slipped themselves down in between your legs that you moved your hands to grasp his wrist. The combination of the low groan that left his mouth mixed with all the wetness that found itself on your thighs was too much for you.

“I said!” Bakugou growled once more, speaking to you through clenched teeth “Keep your hands out of the way.”

He pried your hands off his wrist and moved them once again, this time to rest at your sides. And though you closed your eyes once more in embarrassment, he kept his eyes trained on your face when pressed his hands moved behind your knees to pull them up and apart – baring your weeping cunt to the fire's light.

“Look at me.”

It was hard for you to follow his request, a whimper escaping your throat to show your unease, but finally opening your eyes when he asked once more, tone soft and gentle, to look back down at him. He was handsome and looked so alluring with his hair all mused and ears pointed in between your legs, as he gently caressed your plush thighs in a comforting manner.

You couldn’t help the gasp that came froth, almost in a shrill manner, when you watched his tongue take a long and heavy stripe up your core; not missing the way his claws now dug into your skin, it was almost painful.

“S-stop! Don’t…” You cried out, hands twitching at your sides, trying their hardest to not push him away “Don’t do that, it – it’s dirty down there!”

Bakugou scoffed at your claim, taking a bite out of your thigh to have you look back at him. Once you do he repeats the action, this time accompanying it with a groan – smirking once more at the flush that was now making it down your neck.

“Not dirty at all.” He shrugged his shoulders before settling into a more comfortable position “How can something that tastes as good as you, be dirty?”

You didn’t have an answer for him. Not that you could really, not when your brain did nothing but short-circuit and turn to mush when you felt his tongue swipe up and down at your glistening folds. Unable to hold back any of the mewls and moans that crept out of your throat; especially when his lips found that special bundle of nerves and began to suckle on it.

Bakugou was taking his time, though it was a little bit agonizing. As much as he wished to go faster, to hear the wonton screams that he knew he could make you sing, he knew that you needed this to be as passionate and tender as it could be. So, whenever you would look back on this night, you would not regret allowing him this.

Not that he truly minded. The sounds of your gasps, your twitching thighs, and your bucking hips made up for it. Especially when he slipped a finger into your warmth and felt you tight walls fluttering around the digit. It was delightful, so much so he couldn’t help but let a growl; the vibrations making your hips jump once more. If you felt this good around his finger, he could only imagine how amazing it would feel having your gummy walls around his cock.

After a few pumps, he added another finger. Pushing through your tight entrance to help properly prepare you for his thick member; not wanting it to hurt once he finally got around to fucking you. The sinful, loud, whines you let out as your back arched when he began to scissor his fingers made his head a little dizzy. So aroused by it all that he couldn’t help himself from rutting his hips, and hard cock, on the rug beneath him.

You had the rug gripped between your fingers, your knuckles going white at how tightly you were holding on, as you felt a bundle start to twine in your gut. One that seemed built out of fire and that twisted almost painfully the more he licked, sucked, and played with your weeping core.

“Come on, sweetness” He nearly begs, his voice going hoarse “I can feel you fluttering around me, just let go. I got you.”

You babbled, though you’re not sure of what, as you listened to his gentle command. Unable to resist, you did as he said, and let go of that tight knot deep within you; allowing it to snap and your body to go rigid. Head moving side to side as you whimpered and wept over the overwhelming sensation.

Though it was only now that you truly understood why so many called this feeling ‘le petite mort’ as you felt a part of your soul had died and found its way to heaven. You couldn’t help but want to feel this feeling over and over again until you yourself passed on. Though it was sinful, you had never felt anything so wondrous.

You whimpered when you felt his fingers slowly leave your tender hole, not wanting the feeling of being full to leave you so soon. And neither did Bakugou. He didn’t want to let up when you finally came, wanting instead to continue – to overstimulate you until you were a blubbering, teary-eyed mess, that was begging him to stop. But he couldn’t help himself. He needed to be in you, right now.

“You ready?” He whispered, bringing his hand up to softly caress your cheek, the tip of his cock twitching against your thigh “Cause we can – can stop if you want.”

“No!” You begged, bringing your own hand up to grasp his; kissing his palm “P-please, I want more.”

Your soft confession made Bakugou moan out, hiding his head in the crook of your neck, as he tried to compose himself once more. He knew what he was doing when he started, corrupting your innocence, however he was not expected to become this turned on – affected – by your turning.

He now needed more, want a distant memory from when he began. He placed the blunt head of his cock at your entrance and slowly pushed in, groaning at the tight heat that welcomed him as he slowly, inch by inch, sheathed himself. The stretch itself was a little painful for you, the more he pushed in, but not in a bad way. It simply just felt strange, as you had never felt a man in you before.

Though the more that kept entering you, the more you would whimper out. You had felt full when his fingers were within you, but this was an entirely different sensation; an entirely different feeling of being full. One that made your eyes shut tightly as your mind could only focus on the slightly pleasant burn of being stretched wide.

Bakugou let out a huff, head dangling above yours; some of his hair tickling your cheeks as he allowed you the time needed to adjust to the new sensation. And himself if he was honest. Your cunt was so tight that, mixed with his earlier actions, made him almost cum then and there once he bottomed out.

“You can move now…” You mumbled, pushing his hair back so you could look into his eyes.

He didn’t say anything back, just simply nodded his head as he adjusted your legs to rest upon his hip. It made you moan softly at the shift, his cock feeling deeper in you. Though that moan turned into a hiss when you moved his hips back slightly, your walls still sore from his intrusion; still burned. But Bakugou was careful with his movements, only moving an inch at a time before moving back fully into you.

It was a slow process, but soon he was able to pull almost all the way out before snapping his hips back into yours, quiet pained whimpers turned themselves into cries of pleasure with each thrust. You couldn’t help but bring your around his shoulder, your nails pressing crescent moons into his back with every slam of his cock into you.

The burn of feeling your nails drag into your skin made Bakugou grip your hips ever tighter. You both knew with the way his nails into your flesh, breaking your flesh and having slight trickles of blood run down your legs, meant that there would be scars; ones that your soon-to-be-husband would soon see. And that made you moan out louder, knowing that there would always be a reminder of this night for years to come.

“You like that, don’t you?” Bakugou asked through labored breath, his pace picking up speed as pulled you down to meet his thrusts; salivating at your bouncing chest “You like when I mark your skin? Like when I use your sloppy cunt, use you like the slut that you are?”

Bakugou laughed darkly when you whined at his words and shook your head no. Though you were denying his claims, your body was telling a very different tale; if the amount of slick that dripped down both your thighs was any indication.

“No?” He mocked, a smug smirk forming on his face as your lidded eyes met his “Then why did I feel you clench at my words, huh? Like – ah – like that sweetness? You like when I’m mean to you, don’t you? I told you, you would love how I would sound.”

All you could was keen, brain turning hazy at the sensations he was overloading you with. He was leading you back to that cliff, and you wanted nothing more than to fall over it once again as you brought your legs to lock around his back as you babbled out strings of pleas for him to keep going.

 “Yeah, you’re gonna cum again? I can feel it, sweetness, your walls milking my cock.” Bakugou grunted when he felt one of your hands tug the hair at the base of his neck “Come on then, cum. Cum all over my fat cock, milk it – come on!”

He took your hand away from his hair, clasping it into his as he lowered his body onto yours; entwining your fingers together as he continued to say filthy words to help bring you over that edge. When you felt his pelvis rub so deliciously over your clit you couldn’t help but be sent over the edge; pulling him even closer as your body shook at the powerful release.

Bakugou groaned, quickly following suit when he felt your walls clamp down on him. Unable to stop himself from painting your insides white, with rope after rope of his seed, as he bit another mark onto your neck.

You let the moments pass, let it go by serenely as you basked in each other’s afterglow. Not wanting to leave one another so quickly after such an event. You wanted to hold him close as your heart slowly started to beat at a normal rate, and Bakugou wanted to do the same.

Though, once his cock had softened, he felt it was time to get you both cleaned up. And with a soft hiss as he left your warmth, he slowly lifted himself from your warm embrace; suddenly feeling cold even with the fire next to him.

“Be right back.” He mumbled as he got to his feet, not bothering to hide his body like you were as he walked to where his washing room was.

You took this moment to sit up, wincing at the soreness that now encompassed your lower half, as you searched for your shift; wanting to cover yourself, if only slightly. That’s when you found your small leather pouch, the one that contained all the valuables you thought to take with you.

Around the drawstring of the bag, helping to keep the thing closed, was your family heirloom. A giant sapphire broach that was surrounded by silver in an intricate design; a pattern that was designated to your family only. It was invaluable. And you thought that if Bakugou was kind enough to leave you a memento, you should do the same.

You clutched the item to your chest when you heard him step back into the room, washcloth in hand. You continued to hold it close to you, hiding it away, as he tenderly cleaned between your legs and the now dried blood at your hips. A kind gesture that made you relax once more into his touch.

He crawled up your body once more to place a soft kiss on your lips as his arms wrapped securely around you. You yelped when he picked you up, head spinning from suddenly being off the ground. He chuckled at your reaction, it only increased when you scolded him.

He led you to his bed and allowed you to get yourself comfortable before joining you. His heart thumping in his chest, and his tail annoyingly wagging, when you moved yourself to snuggle into his side. Your hands softly wandered over the muscles on his chest, as you gazed up at him once more; a small smile formed on your face.

“Here,” You whispered, holding your trinket out to him, waiting for him to take it. You relished in the soft, gingerly, touch he gave your hand before grabbing hold of your treasure.

“What is this?” He asked, voice still dark and raspy as he inspected it further in the moonlight.

“My family broach. It’s invaluable, probably worth a lot of money.” You explained, rubbing small circles with your fingertips on the skin of his collar bone “It was what you wanted to take when you first saw me. And though you can’t steal me away, you can steal this. As something to remember me by.”

You meant it as a joke, light humor to help ease yourself into more mirthful humor rather than one of sadness over what was to transpire once you woke. You snuggled yourself deeper into the blankets, into his embrace as you placed your head on his chest. The lull of slumber began to swiftly overtake you.

Bakugou couldn’t follow suit though. Couldn’t stop his mind from racing as he looked at the broach. The more he thought about it, as he now looked down on your slumbering face, how sweet and perfect you looked under the moonlight rays, the more he realized that he wanted to keep you. So maybe, just maybe, he would steal you away from them after all.

[missglaskin]

Aegon and Aemond unlocking an exhibitionism kink after the public consummation and became terrors in the Red Keep. They have traumatized enough lords, courtiers, servants, knights because they can't simply keep their hands and c*cks off of you. Otto's hairline probably keeps reducing everytime he catches the three of you in the throne room minutes before the court starts and he does not have the heart to tell Alicent that the small chambers have also been baptized by the brothers' insatiable desires.

Don't even get him started about what he has witnessed in the Tower of the Hand, his own freaking domain in the Red Keep! And these incidents have increased even more now that you have started to swell with child. By seven, it's as though they want you to get even more pregnant (some lecherous lords and ladies had even started betting who the child will resemble the most).

Also denies Daeron's request to go home because he can see the glint in Aemond and Aegon's eyes when their little brother is mentioned. Nope, he doesn't need another traumatized septon and his grandsons telling him and the small council that you can take a third husband (tho now he questions if this is really what you want). 🙈

It's been a while since I wrote anything smuttish so I am a bit rusty

The scandal your polyramous marriage has already caused was enough. But the rumors swirling throughout the court of the king and the prince have left most unsure either to be disgusted by your lewd behaviors or sympathetic to how you can seem to keep up with the two. You three have caused the council to deeply regret making the consummation public. 

Aemond is expected to be the mature one and initially he was a bit cautious. But jealousy ignites within him as he watches just how shameless you and Aegon are. Not even from a far distance at parties, clothes are already discarded or how the two of you seem to dance so provocatively with one another. He even wonders if others have chosen to ignore the roaming hands under the table or if they are just that blind to them. 

But it only takes one push. Just one for the one-eyed prince to succumb to temptation once more. He can thank your pretty lips for that, the same lips that feel soft against his cock. The brothers are engaged in a vicious rivalry to see who can please you more, on who can get you to scream their names louder.

The servants have learned to work even when they can hear your moans reverberate through the walls and the knights are perhaps regretting every bit of their existence. It's safe to say that the majority of the court has been traumatized including the hand of the king. Otto has learned by now that his lectures have gone on deaf ears and finds himself having to take a deep breath when news reaches his ears on how servants have reported hearing noises from the library. Alicent chooses to make herself ignorant of the rumors; she expected such behavior from one son, but for the two, she nearly passed away from shock.

When news reached you were now with a child, most of the court felt relieved. There was an unfortunate belief that men found their wives less desiring when swollen and heavy. But if anything, it appears both brothers' lust gets more insatiable by the day.

Daeron's visit becomes a point of concern for Otto, wanting to prevent any more possible scandals. Daeron almost has a lingering innocence that makes it easy to corrupt. It’s almost as if his brothers encourage him to give into his temptation, just to spend the night as if it were merely a taste, like they know it’s all he needs to come back for more.

Almost everyone has quickly noticed the way Daeron’s gaze never seems to leave you, whether at dinners or in hallways. And it’s not long before another scandal reaches the king’s hand and the queen regent.

[motherraid]

ABSOLUTELY NOT DONE WITH MY SEBEK THIRST AND I TRULY NEED TO SPEAK ON THIS.

Sebek x AFAB!reader nsfw below the cut:

((Tw: somno(?) Dubcon(?) A bit of bullying and mean names/big boy words/pervy Sebek/dumbification? Maybe? I think?/and ooc sebek maybe im not sure))

We see so much Sebek as either the completely subby pillow prince or a sebek that's SO dominant he's like some mafia boss in a wattpad fanfic? It's all wonderful, don't get me wrong. But is that ALL we wanna reduce sebek to? D:

I absolutely CAN see and DO see most times where he's just subby and whimpering and crying, and it IS accurate, but it's not ALL that could happen! We need to start changing! it! up!! He's still Sebek for crying out loud! He'll end up having you crying and spaced out on his cock regardless of how bad you wanna ruin him.

Hear me out, pervy Sebek.

Okay, maybe when you aren't together yet he's mean and snarky, referring to you as "human" and pretending to hate your guts like always, but he'll still try to find excuses to perv on you!!!!! He's so enraptured that he can't help it.

Sebek's so needy that accidentally grazing your hand too high up his arm is a sin you need to repent for it with your pussy. You'd find yourself stuffed in an old broom closet or empty classroom in a heartbeat. He just can't take it anymore. He's already spreading your lips with two fingers and using his other hand to hold your hip in place, your ass squished firmly against the cold wall behind you and your skirt in a heap at your ankles. Who else have you been seducing while he wasn't around? He will not stand for your lecherous ways! He must protect his fellow classmates! The only way to do that is to make you cream on his tongue so many times that you can't think straight. Then, you'll be too tired to prey on any more poor, defenseless students at Night Raven College. Yank his hair, and that's another five minutes of him playing with your pretty cunt. Don't test him, harlot.

Your panties he'll be taking. Probably some lame excuse about your "punishment" for coming onto him like a shameless whore. But... We all know that by the time he gets back to his room in Diasomnia, he's soo horny from the anticipation. He wants to savor the moment, but before he can even pull his pants down he gets a whiff of you once he takes your panties out of his pocket. Now people can hear him mewling while he creams his pants through the walls.

"AND WHAT IF WE'RE TALKING ABOUT SEBEK THAT'S IN A RELATIONSHIP??!!! D:" I hear you ask (no one asked me anything. I'm delusional).

He still will not take no for an answer. He's not going easy on you just because you've won his heart. He is more gentle when initiating, but he still won't drop the "you need to be punished" bit. You've riled him up (you blinked in his general direction), and you have to take responsibility for your actions. He thinks, anyway... Everything is kinda fuzzy, so he can't really process the words coming out of his mouth right now. Sebek doesn't know whether he just cried that you're a horrible temptress or begged you to sit on his face.

Oh, and dont get me STARTED on the crocodile tears. Where's the Sebek that snivels with tears in his eyes while he's ramming his cock into you? Where's the Sebek that's so lost he disjointedly drawls into your shoulder about how you're so pretty and warm?? About how he can't stop himself? How you feel too good for him to stop??? Just one more round? Please?? Where's the Sebek that squeals and sobs when he's stuffed you with his cum for the umpteenth time?? Orgasm so intense his eyes cross and toes curl??? Nose buried in your hair and inhaling hard cause he can't get enough of your smell????? YOU'RE the one getting stuffed with his cock, bent and twisted every which way over any furniture or solid surface he can find at the time, so why is HE the one whining and moaning like a whore?

YES!! He is awkward and has no idea what he's doing, but after a while, he's so desperate he just.. Doesn't care. He's gets so erratic and clingy, and it's such whiplash from how proper and uptight he normally acts in public it's insane.

I need to see this boy's fae genes take over. I need to see this boy instinctively feel the need to have you bouncing on his dick all throughout your fertile window. His big dumb crocodile brain can't understand anything other than stuffing you full of his little hatchling(s).

And he would never curse at you once you two are together!! He'll only praise you. He'll tell you how much he loves you, how amazing you are, and how good you feel. He's got too much love to give, and he wants you to give him your love, too. So please sweet talk and praise him. He'll nut instantly. Even if it doesn't mean he'll stop slipping back into you after cumming all over the backs of your thighs. Praise him. Please?

He can't help it. He HAS to have you. It gets so bad he wants to start fucking you almost anywhere. Like a disgusting wild animal. Even if you WANT to take charge or ride him? He gets so carries away he just grabs your hips and snaps up into you over and over. Sorry babe, you can't tame the croc right now. Do you want to be in control? It's such a shame. Really is. Once you've riled him up enough, he goes into big dumb crocodile mode. And in big dumb crocodile mode he'll forget everything and fuck you like a fleshlight. Sorry, I don't make the rules.

But don't think YOU'RE the one being fucked stupid. This boy is a pile of mush on top of you!! He's mid hiccup, muttering how much he loves you into your ear, sobbing and slobbering onto the back of your neck. His jabbering is oddly sweet for someone bent over your ass, hips slamming yours so forcefully you're jerked forward with every thrust (or you WOULD be if his big ass wasn't smushing you into the mattress with his weight because he just DOESN'T have the strength to hold himself up with his arms or grab your hips right now. The most he can do is prop himself up on one elbow).

You're trapped underneath a giant who loves you so much he's unconsciously using you like a sex doll. After a certain point in time this boy's mind is so cloudy he's not even fucking you for your pleasure. He just can't stop. It feels too good and his hips are moving on their own and he's too far gone to consciously still them. He's so pathetic he can't even find your clit. His hand is just rubbing at the bottom of your tummy in circles on instinct, and he does NOT care to correct himself. You'll have to do that for him, sorry.

You can definitely tell that boy is half fae. His stamina is WELL beyond normal humans. Even now that you've blacked out, he still has yet to stop. In fact, he doesn't realize you're asleep. He's still crying about "one more round," "Just a bit more.. Please??" And, "A few more minutes." And best believe you're gonna help the damn boy. I mean, how are you REALLY going to refuse him now that you're asleep anyway??

Huh... Actually... Maybe he DOES know that you're asleep.. I don't think he'd be guiltily snapping pictures of your unaware face to jerk to later otherwise.

[abiiors]

cherry // ross macdonald x reader

valentine's week - day 1: secret admirer

a/n: before you say anything, yes there will be a part 2 that's literally just a nasty fuck fest. i just wanted to get the plot bits out of the way and it got way too long as you can see. cw: age gap (10-12 years), highkey ooc, incredibly self-indulgent btw, ummm kinda dom/sub? hand kink, kinda corruption kink also wc: 7.8k

it’s been twenty minutes that they’re all sat in this room—concrete walls, a little like matty’s house honestly, simple furniture and minimalist decor. it feels anything but sparse though—there’s the mic guy and the cameraman and a few assistants. there’s the host, a cheery, fresh faced woman dressed to the nines. but ross can’t stop staring. which is a problem because he really should stop staring and focus on his actual job. except the girl in front of him is distraction personified. 

next to him matty babbles on about the cultural and political significance of their latest album—all interesting, thoughtful stuff. ross, however, stares at the girl transcribing it all. and that’s what she is really, a girl. all softness and innocence, gently rolling the end of a pencil between her perfectly pink lips in a room full of lecherous men. unaware. aloof. or maybe he’s projecting. maybe he’s the lecherous one for staring at a girl who’s most definitely in her early twenties; at the pencil between her lips, at her cherry red dress.

every now and then she pulls the pencil away from her mouth and scribbles a few notes—something in neat, curving handwriting that is a little too far for him to read properly. every once in a while she also types something on her laptop, long, painted nails clacking so softly on the keyboard that the mic probably won’t pick up any of the sounds. 

on her notepad, ross can see little doodled flowers—a bit janky and uneven petals, underneath it she’s doodled a box. thin, pencil lines tracing the same shape over and over again until the paper almost rips. 

he tries not to be so obvious—tries not to stare at her face so much, at the curve of her cheek and the long lashes almost touching it, at the sharp line of her jaw, and the claw clip holding her hair up and out of her face. a few strands escape though, blowing gently against the air blasting from the aircon. 

he tries to keep his attention back on the interview. and he tries to give himself little goals—he can only look at her if matty says a certain word. he can only look at her every time the host laughs—all trivial stuff that goes out the window every time she shifts in her seat and he catches the movement from the corner of his eye. 

more than a few times, he catches her staring back—big eyes lingering right on his face with a distinctly interested expression. every time it happenes, he straightens a bit more and runs his hands through his neatly trimmed beard. 

the girl follows the movement with her eyes and ross wonders what she makes of him. 

“ross?” someone calls out for him. the host stares, expectant, and he stifles the urge to curse. searching his memory for the question that was just asked is useless; it’s not like he was listening to a word that was said in the last two minutes. but now everyone’s eyes are on him and the collar of his shirt feels tighter than it is. his cheeks grow warmer but ross laughs it off. 

“yeah, agree with what matty said,” he replies quickly and clears his throat. he has no idea what matty said last but the host seems satisfied and moves on to the next question. the girl looks up at him again and quickly presses her lips together. still, he sees the slight quirk of them, almost like she’s trying to stifle a smile or a laugh. 

this time he stares back just a bit longer, meets her eyes with intention and raises an eyebrow almost in challenge; just to see if she’d keep staring so blatantly. her eyes widen a fraction and the pencil stills on her lips. her teeth graze its end and almost dent her soft lip. 

ross sees the movement of her iris, unsure where to look. she fidgets in her seat, shifting again and crossing her legs. then she averts her eyes entirely and goes back to scribbling on her notepad.

“your head’s in the fucking clouds,” george deadpans the moment they step outside on the balcony. there’s already a cigarette dangling between his fingers and smoke curls around his head. 

ross groans. “haven’t slept properly.”

it’s not exactly a lie. he was up pretty late last night but ross lights a cigarette of his own if only to avoid looking at george. they stand there in comfortable silence for a bit, letting the smoke settle into their lungs and blowing it out. matty’s boisterous laugh floats outside and ross thinks back to the shitshow of an interview. 

there’s a reason he hates doing these, there’s a reason matty always speaks on all of their behalf. but ross knows big publications want all four of them and it’s good to create hype and get the fans excited. and he knows it’s just necessary—

the balcony door open with a creek. 

at first, ross doesn’t turn. it’s probably adam who’s bored of the conversation or matty who’s managed to escape it but out of the corner of his eye, he sees george turn around and straighten imperceptibly. 

and so he follows suit. 

the girl clears her throat. “uh… sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you.” there’s a slight tremor in her voice and she looks up quickly from george to ross. she’s shorter than he’d realised before, only coming up to the base of his throat, fucking tiny compared to him and george and he pointedly ignores what it does to his brain to see her staring up at him, craning her neck just to meet his eyes. 

“ross…mr macdonald. sir.” she comes to a stop in front of him, all wide-eyed and flustered and calling him sir for fucks sake. he can almost feel the laugh george is trying to hold in. this isn’t the first time a nervous fan’s approached them and he’s had far weirder interaction. still he plans to smack george later for making him lose his composure

“just ross,” he corrects on autopilot then gestures for her to continue. he expects the usual—a selfie or autograph on a vinyl. to his surprise she holds up a phone in front of him and ross almost gapes before reigning it in. 

“your phone,” she says. “you left it on the set.”

quickly, he taps his back pocket and feels nothing. 

up close, he can see the tiny smudge of mascara under her eyelashes and the precise shade of red on her lips. up close he can smell her perfume too—sweet and warm, something that definitely suits her. 

the girls stares up at him expectantly, still holding out his phone. 

“thanks,” he mumbles, voice almost gruff and takes his phone back. his hand brushes her for just a moment—the pad of his finger against the back of her hand. but ross swears he feels a little jolt. quickly, she drops her hand and looks at his chest. 

“you’re welcome,” she says and this time her voice is a bit steadier than before. he’s about to ask her more. anything to make her talk more when george steps forward. 

“thank you, darling,” he says and gives her a winning smile, “he would have made us all search for it later.” 

the girl blushes furiously under all the attention, trying to maintain her bravado from before. ross stifles the urge to roll his eyes but takes the time to quickly look at her again. her hair’s down now, falling over her shoulders and hiding half her neck that was exposed to him before. he has the sudden and visceral urge to touch it, to run his fingers through it and tug on the strands until her chin tilts up to him. until she’s looking right at him. 

what the actual fuck is wrong with him!

he steps back and takes a deep drag of his cigarette untilt he smoke burns, until his eyes water. the girl nods and stammers a goodbye. then she quickly scurries back inside. 

george snorts and ross shoots him a death glare. 

“head in the fucking clouds,” george singsongs under his breath and puts out the rest of his cigarette. then before ross has the chance to respond, he opens the balcony door and disappears inside. 

ross stays back on the balcony and groans in his hands. then he lights another cigarette.

there’s a rot in his brain, gnawing at his neurons and eating through the organ until everything is replaced by a single image of her sucking on the end of her pencil absentmindedly. ross has been through this scenario a dozen times now. it was fine when he was busy, staving the thought away by replacing it with work related things. 

a million things he’s got on his schedule…

but in the comfort of his home, his bedroom, he can’t stop picturing the hollow of her throat—delicate and unmarred skin in direct contrast to her dress, her voice calling him sir. god, she’d even looked at him like a fucking fawn—all wide-eyed and unsure. he would have fucking loved to trace his finger over her bottom lip right then, if only to steal a sweet sound of surprise right out of her. 

he’s going straight to hell for this, straight to the fiery pits for doing what he’s about to do. 

ross props himself up on the pillows, delaying the inevitable, or trying to at least. but the ache in him won’t subside, the throbbing between his legs, the dizziness as all his blood rushes south. the tent in his joggers taunting him as if he were a teenager in heat. he groans. the sound echoes around the room. 

shame courses through him, already overshadowed by the heat that flows through his veins at the speed of lightning. 

he needs to stop thinking about her, this girl who he has barely said two words to. maybe this is how he gets her out of his system. instinctively, his hand creeps towards his thighs. 

he wastes no time dipping a hand in his pants, the other arm supports his head; nothing he hasn’t done a million times since he hit puberty. somehow this feels more electric than ever before. 

ross palms himself, eyes fluttering close and muscles pulled taut. he’s aware of everything—from the stretch of his soft cotton t-shirt against his skin, to his head touching the bedframe. he needs to keep what little sanity he has left, trying to sort through all the depraved and deviant thoughts racing through his mind. what would she have done if she could read his thoughts, if she could see him like this—a mess at the mere thought of her? would she kneel down and crawl towards him, hunger clearly written all over her face, her big eyes hooded with lust. 

ross groans loudly, letting out a string of curses, imagining that it’s her hand wrapped around him—small and inexperienced. stroking him up and down with unsurely; long, tentative, languid strokes making his head swim with deluded thoughts. 

his cock is painfully hard. ross knows for a fact that he’s never wanted to fuck someone with this intensity before, never before has his brain reverted to its most basic instinct like this.

thoughts of taking her all over his house makes him fuck his fist faster and faster. gone are the gentle, sensual strokes from before, now his hips buck as he thrusts into his hand. his mind plays a slideshow of made up images—her bent over on his kitchen island, the marble biting into her hips as he pounds into her. he would speak the dirtiest and filthiest words to her as he watches her squirming with want; her pussy swollen and wet. his brain conjoures up the phantom feel of her silky tresses between his fingers, gripped tightly in his hands. 

ross chokes out a gasp that turns into a broken moan. 

this is wrong, this is so wrong and sinful and every other synonym there is for it yet his mind refuses to move on from her. rather, it conjures up more images—her jaw slack with pleasure, eyes rolled back in her head as she rides him at her own pace, figuring it out along the way. he would flip her at the last second, of course, looming over her like a dominating presence, wrenching another orgasm from her after she’s already cum on his tounge, his hand, his stomach. but she would let go for him again. she would do anything to be his good girl. 

his pumps grow rougher and more erratic, gasps leaving his mouth, echoing around the room. 

fuck. fuck. fuck. 

ross wonders if she’s doing the exact same thing he is, hand buried between her thighs, his name spilling out from her perfect lips. he wonders if that would absolve him of his guilt, his shameless act. it’s the thought of her soft sounds that tips him over the edge until he cums so hard, his vision goes black.

his strokes slow down, back to slow and sensual as he watches his cum flow out of him; milky white ropes splashed on his stomach, on his thigh. his hand is a mess, the tissues he had tried to grab at the last second are nowhere near enough to contain all of it. 

with her, ross wouldn’t need any of that. he would fill her up with his cum, fucking it into her, watching it drip out of her mixed with her own release, making a mess of her thighs that he could clean with his tongue. 

fuck it. he was damned already. he might as well enjoy the ride. 

somewhere in this city, she has no clue about all the dark and wretched things ross wants to do to her. and maybe he could get her out of his mind now, have her out of his system. 

he could just as easily fuck someone tomorrow. and someone else the day after. 

yes. yes, that’s what he should do. he should forget about the girl he’s known for less than twenty-four hours. that’s what he should do. 

he settles on it too, making a mental note to text one of his old flings who might still be in the city. he feels very strongly about his resolve too. the interview is done, he’s likely never seeing her again. 

until she shows up at the studio the morning after.

the day starts like any other. he drives up to the studio, one of the assistants tells him that the band will be shadowed for a magazine profile—some prolific publication that’s going to document their entire process ahead of the release. he doesn’t worry about it too much, talking is matty’s job. sometimes george chimes in. ross and adam speak only as a last resort. 

besides he has his to-do list cut out for him. 

last night—the entire day really—was a momentary distraction. now he’s back on track and focused. the track playing on his headphones is all he is thinking about. all he should be thinking about. until jordan taps him on the shoulder. 

“need you for a few photos, mate. and the magazine people are here,” he turns around to leave, almost walks up to the door too then turns back to ross to mouth something. someone new! followed by a waggle of his eyebrows. 

ross shakes his head, sets his things aside and walks out with jordan. 

everyone’s out in the lobby, and ross hears matty laugh before he sees him. then he hears another familiar laugh and turns the corner to a familiar face. he knows tobias, who shakes his hand and gives him a friendly pat on the back. he’s met tobias before—the man is soft spoken and has a keen ear for good music, a quality ross admires and the thought of him documenting their recording process makes him happy. 

tobias goes around making the rounds, hugging george and joking with the sound engineers. then he stops and turns to look at them. 

“oh i almost forgot!” he claps his hands together, “need to introduce to a fresh face.”

behind tobias, ross catches a movement. and it’s then that everything around him fades away instantly. 

there is no mistaking it. it’s her. it’s the girl, stepping out a bit unsurely from behind her boss and smiling tentatively at the room. he observes how she doesn’t look at him—no, rather she doesn’t look at anyone, cleverly staring at a spot just near them. but never direct eye contact and never more than a few seconds.

unlike yesterday, she’s in a simple jeans and a t-shirt—grey with a faded queen logo on it—but it fits her like a glove regardless. and when she introduces herself in a lilting voice, ross feels his thoughts from yesterday threaten to make a comeback. 

this cannot be happening… behaving like a horny teenager once was enough. he doesn’t need her working here and being close to him constantly, doesn’t need her to constantly be a presence in his thoughts. thoughts that are already way too focussed on the way her eyes light up after seeing him. it’s a trick of the light and nothing else. he’s sure of it.  

she introduces herself—her name, the fact that she’s here to transcribe and take notes and assist tobias. she tells them she really liked their last album and that it was her introduction to them. matty teases her about not being a fan and she blushes deeply, barely making eye contact with him. 

ross, in a world of his own, burns with irrational jealousy. of course, it would be matty who makes her blush and gets her to open up. matty’s a flirt—charming and confident and knows how to get people to come out their shells, even the shy ones it seems. in contrast ross feels about as subtle as a boulder. 

but she seems slightly relaxed after that conversation, even throwing him a look once (and only once) when he plucks on his bass string a bit too loud. ross doesn’t look at her for the rest of the day though, not a single time. no matter how tempting it is. even when she’s buried deep in her transcripts, murmuring to herself and listening to a recording of something adam said over and over again. 

even when she crosses and uncrosses her legs, sucks on the end of her pencil again—clearly a habit, he’s come to realise. not when she stretches and the hem of her t-shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of smooth skin and the hints of cherry coloured lace. not even when she asks him where the espresso machine is. 

the rest of the day ross spends hunched over his bass, glowering at the floor. and he doesn’t manage to focus even once.

day two he’s in the studio bright and early, gasping for some very strong coffee after tossing and turning the whole night (quite honestly, he’s gasping for something stronger but it’s 8 am and becoming an alcoholic now is not an option) 

every time he closed his eyes, his brain would haunt him with images of soft skin and lips caught between teeth and sucking on the end of a pencil. every time his brain sent his body’s supply of blood to one organ and one organ alone and ross has had enough of it. 

starting today he’s focused. he’s serious! 

that is until he walks into the tiny kitchen and sees her on her toes, stretching and struggling to get a coffee mug down. a red one. the same one she’d used yesterday. with some amusement, he also notices that there are at least two mugs near the coffee machine—one plain black and one with a swirly pattern. but she hasn’t cast either of them a single glance. 

she’s stubborn, someone who knows what she wants.

shamelessly, he staggers to a stop at the threshold, watching her lean against the counter and wiggle her fingertips in the air as if that would magically summon the mug. her calf muscles are pulled taut and visible in the dress she’s wearing. each time she stretches, he sees a flash of her thighs. 

his fingers twitch by his sides, desperate to what what it would feel like to drag his knuckles against the inside of her thigh, trailing them up and up and up until he reaches her hip. how she would react if he pinched the skin between his fingers, if he marked it with his teeth. 

“need some help?” in the early morning stillness of the kitchen, his voice comes out a bit too loud and a moment later she startles, whipping her head to look at him and hand coming up to her thudding chest. 

“christ!” she gasps loudly, closing her eyes and opening them again to look at him properly. “ross–shit! sorry, you scared me a bit is all.”

he can’t help the way his eyes linger on her face—big, wide eyes and scarlet mouth parted open as she blows out a breath. when he starts walking towards her, she stays in her spot, practically transfixed on him as he comes closer. ross stops right in front of her, their bodies so close that another inch and he would be pressing into her, or rather pushing her body back against the kitchen counter. with some satisfaction, he also realises how he towers over her—almost a head taller and practically twice her size. 

her breath catches in her throat when he reaches for the mug, pulling it out and setting it next to her. but he makes no move to step back, not until she finally looks up at him instead of just staring at his chest. 

her throat moves, her pupils dilate. almost as if she’s doing it involuntarily, she quickly looks at his lips and back into his eyes. 

for perhaps the hundredth time, he’s blown away by how beautiful she is, how fucking perfect. and everything he’s thought about her comes rushing back to him, all the times he’s pictured her mouth and her hand, her soft sounds and the feel of her hair between his fingers. his train of thought runs him over so thoroughly that ross actually staggers back a bit, averting his gaze and pointing at the mug. 

he has to wait a beat and clear his throat before he can speak. 

“there.”

“thank you…” she trails off unsurely, voice barely above a whisper. “did you want some too? i was just about to brew some fresh coffee.”

all he can do is nod. and when she moves around the room, getting other things out and making coffee, all he can do is watch.

by day ten, they talk a few more times, each time being interrupted by someone or the other—first it’s tobias, assigning her frankly trivial tasks (in ross’ opinion anyway) that she agrees to happily. then it’s matty coming over to shamelessly flirt with her which honestly makes ross want to deck him with his bass even though he knows it’s harmless. 

but at least with matty she opens up slightly—telling him she’s been working for tobias for almost two years now and that it’s her first adult job. ross finds out that she’s not from london, instead she shares a flat with a friend. 

day ten is also when she stays at the studio much later than anyone else, even when the skies outside darken and turn grey and flashes of lighting burst through every few minute. ross watches her anxiously stare out the window once it starts drizzling a little before she buries herself into work again, sorting through the video and audio footage of that day and making her notes that tobias seems to praise so much. 

and so ross does the same, putting on his headphones and focusing of the actual music instead of the tip of her nails digging into her jaw, creating slight crescent moons. this time, he even manages to stay focused for ten whole minutes until he hears unsure footsteps walking towards him. 

ross looks up at her, nervously playing with the ring on her index finger and takes off his headphones. 

“you need anything?”

she shrugs, looking at him and then around him briefly. “yeah i just needed a little break from work and, uh… barely anyone else seems to be here?”

barely anyone. he’d rather there was no one here at all. and even then, the urge to seduce her into the little soundproof recording booth weighs strongly on him. it would be just him and her and the tiny cramped space and all her sounds would belong to him and only him—

“ross?” he jerks back to her looking expectantly at him before her eyes widen. “uness you’re busy, i don’t want to be a bother. sorry.”

he quickly dismisses her apology, motioning for the chair opposite him before ross smirks at her. “so you’d like to sit there and stare at me huh?” 

he feels a little evil for enjoying the way she sputters, trying to come up with a retort or just plain denial or whatever else but he gets a little distracted by the faint red tinge to her face…

what else would make her blush like that? he can think of a few thing for sure.

“what? no! no, i just…” she scrunches her eyes shut, trying to gather her bearings. “i like watching you work.”

oh that’s certainly interesting. 

“just me? not the others?”

“uh, well.” she leans back in her chair slightly, getting a bit more comfortable than before and catching her bottom lip betweem her teeth for a second. just long enough for ross to go entirely rigid. 

“you’re really still when you work,” she continues, “it’s quite calming.” 

oh he’s still alright. if only so he won’t give into the urge of constantly looking at her and following her every move with his eyes like some creep. he has to stay still if he needs to stop himself from going to up to her to try and flirt and like matty does, when he will inevitably end up making a fool out of himself. 

but she’s entirely unaware of his inner conundrum. she’s all too absorbed in her analysis of the band.

“matty bounces and paces around and it makes me slightly nervous. i like watching george when he’s on the drums or the piano but lately he’s been doing more production work so he’s always on his laptop and well, that’s slightly… boring”

“boring?!” he laughs sharply. “i should tell george that.” 

and then he finds it even more amusing when her eyes widen and she scrambles to backpeddle. there’s nothing to salvage it though. so she just sighs in defeat. 

“you wouldn’t! would you?” she looks at him with those big, round eyes and juts out her bottom lip and fuck! she could ask him to sign over half his possessions right now and he would say yes. 

“no,” ross laughs again, softer this time. “your secret’s safe with me.”  

this time he sets the bass aside, all pretenses of work gone as he leans back on the sofa, one arm behind his head. “what about adam? why not him” 

she contemplates her answer for a bit before speaking. “i don’t think he likes other people watching him, he looks a bit uncomfortable.” 

“love, half our job hinges on other people watching us…”

“no, not like that!” she straightens, gesticulating wildly, “not when you’re playing songs you’ve already played hundreds of times. i’m talking about when he’s experimenting and writing new stuff. i don’t think he likes to be watched then.” 

and once again ross is impressed by her astute observation skills. he knows how young she is—younger than him by a decade, yet here she is, reading his best friend of twenty years perfectly in just ten days. 

so he leans forward, properly interested now and scans her face for a bit, trying to get a proper read of her, of what she might say next. “and is that what you like to do? watch people?” 

“sometimes,” she shrugs, “when i find them really interesting.” 

“so you find me really interesting.”

he expects her to blush and stutter again. it is a bold statement after all and yet again she surprises him. “yeah… yes, i do.” 

this time she’s the one with her eyes roaming over his face, maybe a bit over his arms too (something he observes with an immense level of satisfaction) and the way they strain against his t-shirt. 

“good,” he smiles. “now i know i’m not the only one dying to know more about you…”

he tries not to flirt with her too directly but they talk. he tries not to ask anything and everything all at once and freak her out before she’s entirely comfortable with him but with every question she relaxes even more, leans forward and places her chin in the palm of her hand while he’s explaining something inconsequential about his bass. 

it’s only the muscle memory that keeps him going when the strap of her top slides away and a sliver of lace peaks out. 

his fingers still on the strings and she frowns. “no, play! i like the way your fingers move.”

the words slip out before she even realises it. in fact, it doesn’t dawn on her until he freezes completely and she goes bright red!

“i– no, that’s– i didn’t–”

but ross laughs it away, if only so he won’t fucking dwell on it until his head feels like it’s going to explode. 

“let’s go outside for a bit,” he offers and she accepts gratefully. 

the air on the balcony is cool—the sort of breeze before a thunderstorm—and he’s itching for a cigarette. ross looks at her again as she stares out at the trees outside, swaying with the wind. one strong gust and she shivers. her skin erupts in goosebumps. 

“you’re cold.”

she quickly shakes her head. “it’s fine, it’s so nice outside. i don’t mind that much.”

he wishes he was wearing some kind of a jacket that he could give her. the though of her in his clothes does something absolutely primal to him to the point where he has to physically stop himself from grabbing her by the waist and kissing her till she’s dizzy and moaning in his mouth. and she doesn’t help matters by moving a little closer to him, until they’re almost touching, until her arm is almost pressed up against his chest. 

“you’re cold,” he says again, voice tinged with roughness but she clicks her tongue. 

“‘s alright. you’re warm.”

“am i?” he chuckles deeply and takes a hold of her by her arm. “come here then. have a cigarette with me.”

it’s about as bold as he’s been with her. she whips her head up to look at him, and ross doesn’t miss the way her gaze dips to his mouth. just for a moment, maybe even half a second until she quickly looks away and at his chest. 

“i don’t… i don’t smoke.”

“ever?”

that makes her giggle. “no ross. i don’t smoke. ever.”

he wants to say something but the words don’t come out easily. the palm of his hand feels electric just from touching her arm, just from being so close to her. and the breeze all around them makes it impossible to escape her sweet perfume.  

“i’m not opposed to trying though,” she continues shyly and ross quirks an eyebrow. 

“you could try with me…”

“i’d like that.” he studies her face for a moment, looks at her big eyes staring up at him with a mix of sincerity and interest. 

“do you know what to do?”

she mulls it over for a moment, pinching her lips together until they’re in a kissy pout. “sure, i’ve seen people do it. i’ve seen you do it.”

“have you now?”

“mmhmm, seems easy enough.”

so ross pulls out a fresh one from the pack and places it between her lips. his finger grazes her bottom lip, the touch electrifying, making him linger there until her gaze dips to his mouth again and a light flush covers her face. she shivers again and steps even closer to him than before. 

“should i light it then?”

she nods tentatively, and ross flicks the lighter on. the flame wavers, almost goes out until he shields it with his palm and brings it up to her mouth. the fire casts a warm glow on her face, in her eyes. and she’s somehow even more breathtaking than he’s ever imagined. 

once the cigarette lights, she takes an unsure inhale and breaks out into a cough until there are tears brimming on her lashline and she’s pushing ross away lightly for laughing at her. 

“you’re helpless,” he teases. “here. let me.”

his hands graze her lips once again as he takes the cigarette from between her lips. it’s smudged with her lipstick, something sheer and pink. then he places it in his mouth, lazily taking a drag. 

“watch.” she obeys instantly, pupils dialating when her eyes linger on his mouth until her lips part and she swallows visibly. he takes the moment to blow the smoke out, bending down so he can blow it in her parted mouth without startling her too much. her eyes widen and she sucks in sharply but this time she doesn’t cough. instead, she bunches her lips together and tries to blow out some of the smoke she inhaled. it comes out in broken wisps and disappears on the wind. 

“there we go, darling,” he speaks roughly and watches her blush all the way to the tip of her ears. “should we try that again?”

she nods. he takes another drag. this time, he grips her chin between his fingers, tilting it up until her mouth is so close to his and he can practically feel her breath on his skin. her pupils are so blown out, her eyes almost look black. then he lightly brushes her lips to his and blows the smoke out again. 

ross stays where he is. he even pulls her closer until she’s pressed against him and her eyes flutter shut. her breath hitches, her hands move up to his biceps, gripping onto him until she exhales again and smoke caresses his mouth before dissipating once more.

“a-again,” she whimpers but he’s already taking the cigarette out of his mouth and putting it out on the railing. 

“yeah?” he challenges just to see if she’d move away but her hands move up from his biceps, fingers traliing up his arms until they’re at the nape of his neck, nails softly trailing down his skin. and when she shivers again, it’s definitely not because of the cold. 

“yeah,” she nods and presses her lips onto his.

his heart skips at how unsure it feel, how she has to stand on the very tips of her toes and hold onto his just so she won’t lose her balance. he doesn’t give her a lot of time to overthink it though. as soon as he’s over the initial shock, he wraps and arms around her until she’s fully pressed against him, effectively trapped between him and the railing. the light drizzle of rain starts again. ross grabs her face in his hands, keeping her still so her can kiss her properly—the kind that leaves her gasping when he grazes her bottom lip with his teeth, the kind that has her leaning against him entirely for balance when her knees almost buck under her. the kind that makes her moan involuntarily but ross doesn’t let her pull away in embarrassment. instead, he pulls her up until her legs are wrapped around his middle, her thighs pressed against his waist and his hands under her ass. and then he carries her back inside. 

just like he predicted, he fills up the tiny little space of the recording booth. the mic stand clatters and she moves it aside with a ferocity that’s unlike anything he’s seen from her before, it’s a nice surprise, to see just a glimpse into her feral side. 

ross groans into the kiss and slides his hand under her ass. his fingers snake up her neck, gripping her jaw in a grip that’s almost too tight. it’s tempting to mark her up, to leave behind bitemarks and fingerprints everywhere for people to see. she responds in kind and bites his bottom lip just hard enough to make him hiss. 

“someone’s going to hear us”

“it’s a soundproof booth darling, no one’s going to know a thing.”

his hand that’s been cupping her jaw slowly moves to her throat and she lets out a whine so desperate and needy that all the blood rushes straight to his cock. she’s practically begging for more at this point and he hasn’t even properly touched her yet. 

he thinks back to all the times he’s thought of her like this, so malleable in his hands—thought of the feel of her hair between his fingers that damned bottom lip that’s driven him so crazy over the last few days. he can’t resist nipping at it and the sting makes her breath catch. 

“i’ve nev-i’ve never done this.”

his heart thuds in his chest and for a second he worries she’s entirely inexperienced. not that he’d have a problem being her first… but he’d be damned if he let her first time be in a fucking recording booth. 

“done what?”

“hooked up.” she clarifies almost through a gritted tone, almost like she’s trying not to be ashamed of it. “outside of relationships i mean.”

“no? do you want to stop?”

she takes a beat to think then shakes her head. “no, i-i just really want you.”

ross hums in approval. it does stroke his ego immensely if he’s being honest and he can’t help but see how far he can push her buttons. “do you now? what do you want about me?”

just like she had outside, she blushes furiously, to the point where she has to stare right at his chest and take a moment to compose herself. her hands never let go of his chest though. and it’s safe to assume she can feel his racing heartbeat just like he can hear hers. 

“your hands are… i like your hands.”

“do you think about my hands a lot?”

“i don’t–i d—” her eyes go round again, wide as saucers, almost like it’s impossible for her to lie.

“no lying, sweetheart.” he tsks, and then bends down just until his mouth caresses her earlobe. “bad girls don’t get what they want.”

she makes a stragled noise, somewhere between a moan and a sound of protest but ross cocks his eyebrow and that shuts her up effective. a beat later, she tries again. 

“fine. yes. i think about your hands a lot. all the time…”

“and what are my hands doing when you think about them?”

he enjoys it very much when she stutters, trying and failing to meet his eyes, to say the dirty words in her head out loud. that alone is enough for his painfully hard cock to throb again. 

“go on,” he breathes over her skin and lets his hands trail up and down her body, “show me what my hands do.”

she places her palm on the back of his hand, so much smaller in comparison, and moves it down her body. he lets his fingers trail, lets the callouses pads of his fingers brush over every inch of skin he can until she stops just at the waistline of her jeans and looks up at him again. 

“i want you t-to…to touch me. use your fingers on me.”

“that what you think about hmm?” slowly, the slowest he possibly can without jumping out of his own skin, he undoes the button of her jeans. then he pulls down the zipper, all the while letting his knuckles drag across her skin. she shivers at the smallest of touches, so responsive and perfect.

“words, darling,” he taunts again. “i’ll stop touching you if you stop telling me what you want.”

“ross,” she whines, and tries to grind against his hand, tries to push it deeper in her pants but he quickly gathers her wrists together and tuts at how little strength he needs, how easily he can hold both her wrists together with just one hand while using the other to feel her up through her underwear. 

it’s soaked and he can clearly feel her clenching and unclenching, desperately trying to move her hips and grind shamelessly against his hand but he won’t give her what she wants until she forces the filthy words out.

“please!”

“you’re soaked, sweetheart. i can give you what you want but only if you ask for it.”

her eyebrows knit together and she almost looks… angry, about as feral and threatening as a little bunny. “fine…” she huffs, “i want–i want you to fuck me. with your fingers.”

the crass words sound filthier from her mouth, like she shouldn’t be saying things like these to lecherous old men in dark corners on even darker nights. “see?” he grins at her, all sharp teeth ready to almost rip into her, “was that so hard?”

when they kiss again, ross pushes his tongue inside her mouth until all he can taste is her, until all her can smell is her. his fingers move faster against her clothed pussy, making the fabric soak more than it was before and her legs spread wider, her hips move faster until she’s soaking his hand and practically rutting against it. 

she’s shaking, clenching around nothing and looking at him with tears in her eyes—so frustrated now, constantly whining for him to push his fingers inside her. slowly, ross pushes the underwear aside and circles her entrance with his middle finger. before she has the chance to whine again, he plunges the fingers inside and swallows her cry with another kiss. 

she clenches around his finger desperately, slickening his hand every time he pushes into her, more so when he adds another finger and thrusts into her faster. as a reward he lets go of her wrists and she immediately latches onto him, pushes her hands inside his shirt and lets them greedily roam all over his body. she traces his chest and down his stomach, she lets her nails trail up his back, scratching and digging into his flesh every time he thrusts his fingers deep inside her.

her breathing quickens and she starts pressing kisses to his jaw, tracing the golden chain around his neck with her tongue. every so often she tries to nip at his skin, to leave some of her own marks behind. once or twice he lets her… but it’s more fun to hear her gasp and mewl and cry out his name. 

“good girl,” he coos at her, “taking it so well, sweetheart.”

“feel so good,” she whispers and lets her head fall back. under his hand, her thigh spasms lightly and his pulse pounds all over his body—his chest and throat and stomach and fuck even his cock that so hard and leaking with precum now. 

he needs her so bad, bad enough that he entertains the idea of pulling his fingers out and bending her over right there. 

but this might be his one and only time with her and he needs to make it memorable. 

he needs her to feel him between her legs for days and taste him on her tongue for weeks. 

he needs to bottle up her gasps and whimpers and the feel of her cunt around his fingers and keep it hidden away forever. 

so he needs to make her cum over and over again until she can’t remember any other name but his. 

and he’s not about to do all that here of all places. 

“‘m so close,” she moans out, rutting her hips faster now, almost trying to match his thrusts and ross increases his pace, presses his thumb against her clit harder than before. “kiss me.”

instantly, he obeys, getting lost into the kiss and the way it sends little currents through his blood. she’s no better either, exploring the inside of his mouth with her tongue and riding her fingers until he can practically feel her dripping down his hands and wrist. until she lets out a string of curses and her eyes roll back. she lets out a broken moan, louder than all the ones before and he feels her squeeze around his fingers harder then before. 

then he feels her release, gushing onto his hand until he has to hold her up so her legs won’t give out on her. 

ross doesn’t stop though, he pumps his fingers in and out of her, each time earning himself another cry or hiss or groan until the tremor in her body subsides to a slight shiver and she presses her face into his chest, sweaty and barely coherent.

“that was–” she tries and breaks off. “you were–”

“have i left you speechless, sweetheart?” he teases pointedly. “look at me.”

when she manages to open her eyes, ross pulls his fingers out of her and brings them to her mouth. 

“suck,” he orders. to his surprise she obeys without hesitation. her mouth closes over his fingers, taking them all the way in until her lips are around the base of his fingers. then she swirls her tongue around them and licks them clean. every inch, every crevice. 

she lets them go with a slight pop and ross almost gets on his knees right there. 

“you are not what i imagined,” he whispers, not trusting his voice at all. 

“am i better?”

he only nods in response and kisses her deeply, tasting her on his tongue, tasting the tang of her release mixed with her saliva. 

“let me take you home,” he offers. “i want to fuck you. but not here. i want to fuck you properly.”

“like a gentleman,” she giggles.

he worries she might say no. but she only pulls away to button her jeans properly. 

“let’s go then,” she smiles mischievously and hooks a finger through his chain, eyeing it with intent. “i have thought of loads of other things apart from your hands.”

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman @oneluckygirl

add yourself to the taglist

[im-his-druidess]

So I had another request!

It’s filthy (to me anyway lol)

But you don’t have to do it if it crosses any lines!

But I was wondering 🤔 how would Brahms Thomas jason and micheal be if their s/o wore super sexy outfits all the time and teased them? Like I’m thirsty for it 🤌🏻

Like I KNOW a part of them would be upset that their sweet s/o is teasing them and showing off for others and that results in angry sex🤌🏻

There is no shame here. Not much crosses lines to me 😌

Brahms Heelshire

Would be absolutely transfixed at the outfits you wear. Would raid your closet and pick you out things he would want to see you in, helps you shop online (*cough*Sugar Slasher*cough*) and would love for you to give him a fashion show when you get new outfits. However...he will throw a massive tantrum if anybody else sees you in your pretty clothes. Will destroy an entire room if he so much as thinks about someone seeing what belongs to him.

He's totally fine with you parading around in skimpy clothes, would prefer it actually, but will hide in the walls and sulk if you tease him too much.

Thomas Hewitt

Would act similar to Brahms in the sense that he would be so enamoured by anything you wear. Would stare all the time, gingerly reaching out to feel the delicate lace or silky material of your clothes. Would stop in his tracks if he catches sight of you, a lovestruck look shining in his eyes, and he would love to see all the different type clothing you have.

If you are around others, mainly Hoyt, he will physically cover any exposed skin that he deems inappropriate. Even going so far as to remove the tablecloth and drape it over you like a blanket to cover you up or snatching you up and taking you to your shared room (Which saves you from any leering from the lecherous old men of the house so you don't really mind)

He wouldn't know how to react to you teasing him. His brain would just shortcircuit and wouldn't be above hauling you over his shoulders and dragging you someone private if he gets too riled up.

Jason Voorhees

Is at a complete loss tbh. Torn between thinking it's inappropriate and nearly drooling at the sight of you. Would like to feel all the different type of fabrics and material, marveling at all the colors, and would love to see you show up with new things for him to look at. Likes to feel included.

Would probably steal clothes from campers he kills that he would think you would like.

If you tease him he will be confused at first, but will follow you around constantly until you finally pay attention to him. He doesn't quite understand the concept of a "tease" and will think you are punishing him by not letting him touch you. Will become more and more handsy the longer you tease him.

Michael Myers

Is indifferent at first. Thinks it's just your preferred style and will appreciate the flashes of skin the short skirts and low-cut shirts offer, but doesn't really care past that. The more skimpy and revealing the outfit is, though, the longer he will stare and eventually paw at you. During his usual stalking you throughout the day if he sees anybody staring at you or making inappropriate comments, then they will definitely end up missing or found with their eyes and certain body parts missing. You are for his gaze only.

After that he will start marking any skin visible with bitemarks, hickies, or his handprints. Staking his claim. And you don't have a chance to tease him because he will just scoop you up and pin you against the nearest flat surface. He doesn't like being denied and being denied you will have him throwing a tantrum that is basically a killing spree until he eventually corners you and takes what you've been dangling in front of him.

Will show up later with blood splattered skimpy clothes he stole that he wants to see you in and will stand in your personal space and stare until you change.

[afsosville]

Time to over-analyze things with limited canonical information just because. Here are some of the reasons why Qing Jing may have been a hindrance to Shen Jiu's emotional development and solidified his corruption arc>>

Qing Jing was like the perfect peak to let all his mental wounds fester if you think about it.

Shen Jiu acting like nobility or an educated young master (as most disciples of Qing Jing are) is purely a coping mechanism. It literally screams masking! While the exact circumstances of how he got chosen for Qing Jing is unknown, we can assume he didn't have a choice since most disciples typically just follow their new master to wherever they take them from the selection grounds (with the exception of Bai Zhan lol). He was most likely hoisted onto the Qing Jing peak lord, as no master would've wanted him because of his fucked up meridians and late age. They acquiesced to take him anyway coz of Yue Qingyuan's/the sect leader's insistance. And because it's Shen Jiu, he would naturally do whatever it took to get to the top, and if he started acting like the very sort of people he hates, then so be it.

You can imagine how disastrous imitating his abusers is going to be (he's imitating noblemen in general, but he's definitely taking the Qiu's as a primary example). Shen Jiu clearly is trying to remove and forget everything about his past, and even accepts the rumours of him being a spoiled young master to cast away suspicion. He is coping hard. Not to mention, he was named QingQIU when he became Qing Jing's succeeding disciple. Listen I don't care if it was a bad coincidence or not but that doesn't endear me to Shen Jiu's shizun in the slightest (I'm only talking abt SJ's shizun in canon, not fics, the fics are great. But it's more than likely that SJ's shizun was negligent or abusive as well. Here's why I think that). Between all of this, there's no way he's processing any of that trauma when he's constantly forced to remember all of it. No wonder he slipped into the abuser role easily since he's literally out here actually being made to copy their behavior.

Qing Jing and even the rest of Cang Qiong were always hostile to Shen Jiu, even in his discipleship. These ppl went out of their way to run interventions on Shen Jiu when he's minding his own business. Yes I'm talking abt the whole brothel thing. There were doubtlessly so many disciples who went for the very reasons Shen Jiu was assumed of going for, so why is he the only one getting shit for it? Not only was going to brothels not even a crime worthy of conviction, it was even normalized to an extent. And it would've been so easy to figure out if he really was going for anything "lecherous" by just asking the women there. The fact that, that whole ordeal was never cleared up just shows they didn't actually care about the women or what he was supposedly doing to them. They only cared because it was Shen Jiu who was involved.

Shen Jiu being on any other peak would change things for sure even if it's marginally. Its probably just wistful thinking, but I know at least half of those peaks, even the fanon ones, would be better than Qing Jing at any rate. Again, Shen Jiu would claw his way up and try to succeed any way he can, so if he were put on another peak that would be a somewhat healthy environment for him, he would do well, regardless of the peak. Him doing well on Qing Jing doesn't mean anything other than showing off his awesome(horrible and problematic) coping skills. So really, I can't help but think Qing Jing wasn't a good fit for him, especially with Shen Jiu's specific brand of trauma.

I did a pole once asking if Shen Jiu would've done better on another peak, or if they were just curious to see him anywhere else, and I'm not surprised that the most voted for peak was Yin Hui, the fanon peak for espionage and assassins. Now I'm going to go another tangent why Yin Hui would be good for him later.

[matchingbatbites]

Wiggly 🧠🪱 Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @runninriot ! 🩵

Today I'm thinking about Corroded Coffin hiring a lingerie maid to clean Eddie's apartment as a joke, because somehow - between being kind of a loser in high school and being too busy once they actually became famous - Eddie is still a virgin.

He's prepared to spend however long in his office just ignoring whatever girl has the job, but he isn't expecting an actual goddess, the most beautiful woman he's ever seen to show up and strip down to a lacey red bra and panty set - garter belt and stockings and sinfully high heels included.

Eddie still ends up holed away in his office, but it's because he's trying not to come off like a total fucking creep show because she's just so gorgeous.

Stevie on the other hand, is having the time of her life. When she learned where her assignment would be, she was expecting some sleazy, lecherous, asshole rockstar. Instead, Eddie's so sweet and he's clearly trying his goddamn best to be respectful, and Stevie can't help but tease him as she cleans the office.

"You're acting like a nervous little dog," Stevie eventually says as she's dusting all the little knick-knacks on Eddie's desk. "Do your groupies never dress up all sexy for you?"

"I'm sure they do," Eddie replies as he glaces at her quickly, "but uh, I've never slept with one to know."

"No? I thought a rockstar like you would love that, having a constant stream of girls practically throwing themselves at you."

Stevie picks up a few pieces of trash and reaches over to drop them in the trash can, bending over more than is probably necessary. It's worth it when she hears Eddie try and fail to bite back a whimper.

"It, uh. It's a bit different when those girls are expecting said rockstar to be some kind of sex god but he's actually still a virgin."

No fucking way.

"Are you really?" she asks as she props her hip against the desk, and Eddie swallows hard as he nods and shrugs.

"I just. Haven't had the opportunity."

Stevie tuts at that and reaches out to twist one of his curls around her manicured finger. "Pretty boy like you? I'm sure you've had plenty of opportunities."

Eddie's blush deepens, the pink that's been dusting his face since Stevie arrived settling into a warm red. He's so fucking cute, and she can't help but tease him more.

"You can tell me the real reason, I promise I won't judge. Are you too embarrassed by your inexperience, baby? Or maybe you're just nervous. Maybe you're waiting for some pretty girl to come along and take charge, to teach you how it's done."

Eddie's pupils blow out, making his eyes even bigger and darker, and Stevie knows she's struck gold.

🪱🪱🪱

No pressure tags @steddie-island @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe aaaaand @wynnyfryd

[notreallysorryxx]

#"Fluffy"

You and Angel Dust dance in the rain and deal with the aftermath.

Characters: Angel Dust

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff! hehe

Note: I actually struggled writing the way he talks, so I barely gave him any dialogue. I apologise, but Hazbin Hotel characters are hard to write for. And also, I didn't really want to write Angel Dust smut because the poor man needs a break. So here's some innocent romance.

Words: 1k

There was something so morbidly beautiful about the red rain. When you had first arrived in Hell, you hated the rain. It had a disgusting metallic stench and it felt horrid on your skin. However, that was months or possibly years ago and your opinion had changed since then. Especially since you got to experience that with your lover, Angel Dust.

Walking down the sidewalk under an umbrella with him felt like Heaven, ironically enough. His presence was comforting, his silver tongue music to your ears. Angel always offered to hold the umbrella too, despite your protests. But you couldn't deny that it was easier for him to hold it because of his 4 arms. No matter where the two of you went, he kept one arm wrapped around you. Angel was clingy and you found it adorable. He wasn't just clingy, but he was rather protective of you too. The lecherous gaze of other sinners were always met with a glare from your boyfriend.

For once, the rain was bothering you. You just wanted a nice date at a local scenic spot. Well, as scenic as you could get in Hell. It was supposed to be romantic, something different than usual. There was no special occasion, you just wanted to spoil Angel. It was the most you could give him after he had been working all day.

Unfortunately, rain hadn't been on the forecast which meant you and Angel weren't prepared. Neither of you brought an umbrella. With a frown, you look up at the sky miserably. Your boyfriend doesn't seem to mind, smiling absentmindedly.

"I've got an idea, toots," he winks. You're surprised when Angel offers one of his hands. "May I have this dance?" he asks teasingly. It's enough to tear a giggle from your lips, forgetting about the wretched weather. This isn't so bad, you think as you twirl in the rain with Angel. You could get used to this. Angel hums an unrecognisable tune as he dances with you, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter.

Multiple sinners around you were running for cover, but you ignored them. Forget everyone else, you were too enraptured in this dance with your lover.

You couldn't help the grin on your face as Angel dipped you. The both of you locked eyes, laughing. To bypassers, you probably look like idiots.

"Y'know, you're a pretty good dancer, babe," Angel coos, pressing a quick tiny kiss to your cheek. You scrunch up your nose from the ticklish feeling of his fluff. He chuckles at that, flicking your forehead.

Although it is fun dancing in the rain with the love of your life, it's probably not the best to stay in it. Despite being dead, sinners and hellborn still manage to get sick. You found out the hard way. A sneeze from you signals that yeah, you should both get back to the hotel.

Getting a taxi in Hell while it's raining is well... it's Hell. But Angel's popularity really helps in these scenarios. Even though you don't like using his popularity for benefits, you're thankful for it now. While the both of you sit in the back of the taxi cab, Angel holds you close to his fluffy chest. You let your face rest in his chest, nuzzling it.

Usually you'd both be bantering right now, but neither you nor Angel wants to ruin the peaceful atmosphere that's been provided by the rain.

The drive back to the hotel stays peaceful, Angel continuing to hold you close as you both shiver. It's cold now that you've gotten out of the rain. The jacket you had brought was soaked and couldn't be used for warmth anymore.

Finally arriving at the hotel, Angel carries you up the stairs and to his bedroom. You take a quick shower with Angel, drying him off. Drying him off is a longer process than drying off yourself. It's almost like wiping down a wet animal because of his fluff. But you don't mind how long it takes. It feels almost domestic.

You watch in the mirror as Angel stands still for you to dry off. He's adorable and you always tell him that. Though he never believes you. You're often rebuted by him.

"I ain't cute," he would grumble.

"Of course you are," you'd always respond.

With a smile on your face, you kiss his cheek, "Angel~"

Angel practically melts, leaning back into your arms as you dry him off. He lets out a content sigh.

"Hm?"

"You know I adore you, right? I love you so much," you croon, pinching his cheek slightly. "And I think you're adorable-"

"Ah, not this shit again."

The both of you burst into a fit of giggles.

"Just accept it. You're cute. Adorable. Precious."

"I told you, that I'm not fucking-"

You cut him off as you pepper kisses on his face, narrowly missing his lips. Angel tries to grab your cheeks to place a solid kiss on your lips but you manage to wriggle away somehow. You evade him playfully, blocking his kisses.

In the end, he gives up with an endearing pout. You take pity on him, finally giving him the kiss he so desperately wanted.

"Now will you accept it?" you ask cheekily.

"Absolutely not-!"

By some miracle, you finish drying each other off, switching into dry clothes. You just quickly grab something from the stash of clothes you keep in Angel's room.

Before you know it, the two of you are wrapped in fuzzy blankets as you cuddle. Angel has all four of his arms around you.

He keeps you close, letting your head rest on his chest. "If anyone's cute, it's you, babe," he murmurs softly, eyes closing contentedly.

You huff, "I'm not, you are-"

"Let's not turn this into a challenge, toots. Because you know I'd win, obviously."

"No, I'd win!"

"In your dreams, loser-"

Safe to say that this argument lasted until the two of you passed out from exhaustion, still snuggled up together comfortably.

[fandomseverywhereassemble]

Svsss AU where Shen Yuan transmigrates into the fake jade pendant. He’s confused at first. Obviously. What is this?! He manages to transmigrate, and he doesn’t get to be anyone cool. He’s a fucking necklace instead. Hanging around Luo Binghe’s neck. There could be worse things though, he supposes. If he could transmigrate into an inanimate object, better the protagonist’s prized possession than a nondescript rock somewhere in the forest, right?

Shen Yuan quickly realizes that constantly being attached to the protagonist in a novel where the first half of it had been accused of being ‘torture porn’ and the second half of it was… porn. He would see everything that happened to Luo Binghe in first person, and it… sucks.

Shen Yuan watches as Shen Qingqiu beats Luo Binghe bloody and locks him in the woodshed. He watches as Ming Fan attacks and taunts him. He watches Ning Yingying offer the little comfort that she can to Luo Binghe, but it’s not enough. She can only offer honeyed words and clean cloth. It’s not what he needs, and Shen Yuan tells him this, not that Luo Binghe can hear him. But over time, as Luo Binghe holds the necklace that his mother got him close to his heart, clutched in his (bloody, numb, trembling, bruised, broken) fingers, Shen Yuan starts to feel again. He feels Luo Binghe’s pain and tries to take it from him, for him. It never really works, but he likes to think that he takes some of the sharpness from his pain. Maybe he dulls it, just a little. He hopes he does.

Shen Yuan makes his peace with it. Peeking through Binghe’s robes, he rolls his fictitious eyes at people, yells curses at those that would dare lay their hands on someone as pure and good as Luo Binghe. Didn’t they know of his nascent power, lying just below the surface, waiting to be unlocked? Obviously not, but it still hurt to watch them all dig their own graves right in front of his eyes.

Then, one day, he’s reminded of a fact quite forcefully. It was his own oversights, everything considered, he knew the plot of PIDW like the back of his hand. The plot point that Airplane had abandoned.

Luo Binghe loses his fake jade pendant.

It happens just as it does in SVSSS. Albeit with a few more kicks and punches and blood spilled. And Ming Fan throws Shen Yuan high in the air, where his cord catches on an errant branch, and there he stays, helpless as he watches Luo Binghe curl around himself to protect his vital organs. Shen Yuan can’t do anything other than swing from side to side, and that’s probably just the inertia rather than his vitriol.

They eventually leave Luo Binghe, and Shen Yuan watches as the protagonist searches for the amulet everywhere. Everywhere but up. Everywhere but WHERE Shen Yuan is, and fear shoots through him. He could be abandoned right here. Would life as an inconspicuous rock be any different from now on? Maybe it would have been better because he would have had no way of knowing where he was or what story he was in. He begs Binghe to just look up. Please look up. He knows it’s futile. Binghe never found the Guanyin in PIDW. He still screams, tells him where to look until…

Luo Binghe looks up.

He lights up, and spends the next two hours dragging his bruised and bloodied body up to Shen Yuan. And when he finally grabs it, Shen Yuan feels so much better, and Luo Binghe does too. Did his pendant tell him where to find it? Impossible.

The next time Binghe is injured though, the voice he heard gets louder, and it isn’t just… Binghe’s internal voice telling him what to do. It’s got its own consciousness. Something he figures out as soon as he tries talking to it in the quiet of the frozen woodshed and it immediately responds.

The two get really close really fast. SY tells Binghe that those extras don’t know anything. That Binghe is better than all of them, especially that lecherous Shen Qingqiu. Binghe tells him that he’s sure it’s all just part of his training. SY tells him that they’re abusing him, and Binghe sadly shakes his head.

The story progresses as usual, Binghe suffers a little less because now he has his secret Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan comforts him as best as he can until… the Abyss.

Because something happens in the Abyss and Luo Binghe dies.

It wasn’t supposed to be possible, he was the protagonist, but Shen Yuan can feel Luo Binghe’s life slipping away. He can feel pieces of his soul fragmenting and dissipating, so he does the only sensible thing: he catches the fragments as best as he can, puts them back together, and pushes them back into Binghe’s body.

He doesn’t allow him to die.

It isn’t perfect though, and some of Binghe is in the pendant with him, and some of Shen Yuan is with Binghe. Souls intertwined.

There’s a few more close calls in the Abyss, and each time, Shen Yuan gets slightly better at putting Luo Binghe back together again. They still spill into each other, though nothing is ever perfect. Luo Binghe might even be a little… reckless with his life. He knows SY is there to put him back together, and when they’re with each other… pieces of him blowing in the wind, tethered to each other by SY’s tenacity. He felt… comforted. Warm. He felt safe, even in the danger of the abyss.

When they emerge, Binghe’s seal broken, but not blackened, they own pieces of each other. Binghe has some knowledge of the modern world, and some anger toward this guy named ‘Airplane’ (what kind of a name was that, anyway?)

One time, Luo Binghe loses Shen Yuan. Some villain snatches the necklace from around his neck and Binghe feels incomplete. Like there are physical pieces missing, even though he’s unharmed. He thinks back, and his memories are… fuzzy. There are things that he knows happened to him. But it’s more like facts that he knows rather than memories. He knows that the woodshed was cold, but he can’t remember how his hands shook and his fingertips went numb as a result. He knows that Shen Qingqiu beat him, but he doesn’t remember how the bruises felt the next week.

The worst part is that he doesn’t remember the comfort Shen Yuan provided during those times. He knows it happened, but the memories are hazy. Incomplete. Like viewing something blurry in black and white from 20 meters away.

It turns out that Shen Yuan took some… liberties when he put Binghe’s life back together. He took away those painful memories, keeping Luo Binghe’s pain and inadvertently the comfort Shen Yuan gave him as well. When they’re close, it doesn’t matter. Their memories flood each other’s minds. Their souls dance and flow within each other. But separated… Binghe doesn’t have those memories anymore. They’re gone. Along with the pain that accompanied them.

I got a lot of this idea from a book series called The Liveship Traders by Robin Hobb and there are some details I thought about but didn’t include: Binghe and Shen Yuan being so intwined that they physically cannot die without each other (Binghe crawling toward the discarded pendant just for Closure, SY begging him to stay back bc he doesn’t want him to die); and the reason SY’s consciousness gets louder is because more of Binghe’s blood is soaking into the fake jade pendant.

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: light angst, jealousy

Zoro sat on the deck of the Sunny, back leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. He watched you from his spot, as Sanji—that damned curly-browed cook—was chatting with you, practically foaming at the mouth as he spoke.

“How pathetic,” Zoro scoffed.

His eyebrows knitted together in disgust as he watched Sanji handed something to you—some bit of food, something that looked intricate and time-consuming and overly fussy; how typical of the cook, Zoro thought, to spend hours in the kitchen, working away at something so ornate that’s meant to be eaten in one bite anyway. Zoro felt an angry heat rising in his cheeks and a churning in his stomach as you grinned and giggled at the gift, placing a bite in your mouth and seemingly bestowing some sort of compliment on the pervert cook; he couldn’t hear the words from where he sat, but he knew Sanji must be unequivocally basking in your accolades, taking in every word like a drowning man gulps for air.

Zoro closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, trying to shut out the image of you smiling at that stupid cook. He didn’t concern himself with the run of the mill creeps in the towns you visited: the ones who stared at you lecherously from across the tavern, the ones who tried to buy you drinks or beg for a dance, not even the ones who dared to put their hands on you. With one look, one quick threat to pull a gleaming sword out of its hilt, they’d scatter like roaches, and you would lean in to kiss him on the cheek while you ran your fingers over his flexed bicep, whispering sweet words of appreciation and affection for being your hero always.

But this was different.

Sanji was no nameless stranger in a tavern or garden-variety deviant on the street. No, Sanji was a professional pervert, and knew all your favorite things down the smallest detail—he knew every single food and drink preference of yours, knew your dress size, your favorite color, what makeup you wore, even what flower and gems corresponded with your birth month. He lavished you in words of praise, spoke sweet nothings to you in French, and found a myriad of ways to compliment you that the average person would probably never dream of. Sanji practically carried romance in the palm of his hand, and no matter how much he tried to ignore it, Zoro had to wonder if one day it might just be enough to lure you away from him.

He tried not to give it much thought, but sometimes it still plagued him—what did you even see in him that made you love him so?  What was it that made you confess that one night, as you were both warm from alcohol and food, pressed against each other in the back booth of some tavern while you watched the rest of the crew dance with the locals?

He remembered it so clearly, the way you started to fidget in your seat, nervously biting your lip, and finally reached over and placed your warm, trembling hand on his.

“Is this…okay?” you’d asked, staring up at him anxiously.

“Sure,” he’d said, “why wouldn’t it be?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged as your fingers interlaced with his. “Because.”

He took a sip of his drink and glanced down and found himself smiling at the sight of your warm, perspiring palm pressed against his, your thumb absentmindedly stroking the contours of his hand. You felt like home somehow, in a way he couldn’t quite parse; it felt like you were always meant to have your hand in his. He sighed and leaned his head against the wall, intending to watch the crew having their fun, but he found his gaze continuing to drift back to you, watching the expressions on your face shift and change as the moments passed, your eyes occasionally flitting up to meet his before you’d smile shyly and shift your attention back to the room.

“Hey Zoro?” you eventually asked in a voice almost too low to hear over the din of the tavern.

“Hm?”

“I, uh…I really like you.”

“I like you too.” He hesitated for a moment before he added, “You’re good to have around, you know. On the ship.” He cringed internally at his words, but he was trying not to seem too eager or too receptive—what if you meant it innocently? What if he misinterpreted your words and ruined whatever it was the two of you had shared until now?

“No, not just like that,” you exhaled, squeezing his hand. “I like you, like you.”

He turned to you, eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?”

You stared at the table, making patterns in the wood grain with your fingertip. “I mean, like in the way where I wanna kiss you.”

He swallowed hard, the words starting to catch in his throat. “You wanna kiss me?”

“Well, yeah,” you smiled softly at him. “If you’d like that, too.”

“R-right now?” Zoro felt his face burn and his limbs tingle, felt his heart thrum in his chest in a way he wasn’t expecting.

“I meant in general,” you chuckled as you turned your body towards him, “but yeah sure, right now is good too.”

There’d been no more hesitation, no further need for clarification—Zoro quickly wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into him, pressing his needy mouth to yours, tasting the sweetness of your fruity drink that lingered on your lips. You were soft, softer than he ever dared to dream, and your plush body felt like heaven pressed into his powerful frame. If he were a less patient man, he would have told he loved you right then and there, but he thought better of it as you pulled away from him, a dreamy smile on your face; he got the impression he would have many, many more chances to tell you how he’d be yours for as long as you’d let him.

“Hey, handsome.”

The sweetness of your voice pulled Zoro from the depths of his ruminations, back into his spot on the deck, back to the reality of watching that damned cook fawn all over you. Before he could speak, you dropped into his lap, straddling his thighs.

“Whatcha been up to all by your lonesome?” you asked as you draped your arms over his muscled shoulders, your fingers lightly running over his neck.

“Nothing much,” he lied. As it were, he had been incredibly busy running through unreasonable scenarios in his head, all ending with you hand-in-hand with someone other than him.

“Is something wrong?” you probed, tilting your head to the side.

“No,” he mumbled, averting your gaze.

“Zoro,” you chided, glaring at him with an intensity he often found impossible to withstand. He could battle a hundred men, handle the pain of countless injuries, but he was always rendered powerless by your quizzical gaze and a certain lilt in your voice.

“Fine,” he groused. “You know I just hate the way he acts around you. Falling all over himself to take care of you, putting you on some sort of pedestal. It’s obnoxious.”

“It’s downright irritating, I can’t stand it when he gets like that,” you griped. “But Sanji knows you hate it, why do you think he does it in front of you?”

“Stupid cook, can’t keep it in his pants even when I’m sitting right here.”

You leaned forward and kissed Zoro’s heated cheek. “It’s not like you have anything to worry about.”

“I know,” he said, staring off to one side.

“Do you?”

Zoro let his gaze meet yours for a moment, and felt some of his fears start to melt away. There was never anything but adoration in your eyes when you looked at him, a feeling of warmth and of desire that he’d never tire of.

“I chose you, Zoro, because I wanted you, not anyone else,” you reassured him, running the pad of your thumb along his jaw as you spoke. “I chose you because I love the way you treat me like an equal. I love how you always laugh at all my stupid jokes. I love how you always protect me, and keep me safer than I’ve ever felt before. I love the way you touch me, and the way you hold me, and the way you f—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he huffed, a bashful heat taking over the angry one in his cheeks. He wrapped his sinewy arms around your waist and pulled you into him, placing a rough, hasty kiss on your lips in an attempt to keep you from lavishing him with more words of affection (though he certainly didn’t mind them at all).

“You know why I let Sanji do it, though, right? Why I let him treat me the way he does?” you questioned.

“Why?” Zoro asked.

You reached back pulled a napkin out of your pants pocket, and carefully opened it; it was filled with bite-sized pastries.

“Because then I can share all the special treats he makes with you, and really annoy him.” You fed Zoro one of the small bits of cake, your fingertips lingering on his lips. “And I know there are very few things you love more than pissing off that cook. Except for maybe me.”

“You got that right,” Zoro smirked through his bite of dessert. As he chewed another of the carefully crafted bits of cake you delicately fed to him, he glanced over your shoulder to see Sanji standing on the other side of the deck, his teeth gritted, hands balled into fists, face reddened with rage.

“That wasn’t for you!” Sanji mouthed exaggeratedly, pointing sharply into the air.

Zoro grinned deviously and stared Sanji squarely in the eye, making sure Sanji’s gaze was fixed on the two of you. Zoro slid his large hands down from your waist, lingering on your hips for a moment, before letting them drift down the soft curves of your ass. He growled as he squeezed you roughly and pulled you down further into his lap, thrusting his hips up to meet the heat of your core.

“Zoro!” you whimpered as you placed your hands on his broad chest to steady yourself. “What’s got into you?”

“Oh nothing. I just realized you’re right,” Zoro smiled as he buried his face in your neck, looking up for just a moment to see Sanji storming back into the kitchen. “I don’t really have anything to worry about after all.”

[terrence-silver]

How would Terry (all eras) react to beloved wanting sex while heavily pregnant? (Like say 7-8 months)

Another post on Pregnant Sex here:

---

― Twig does it, but you have to understand he fusses the whole time. He's young. He's boyish. He has his many, many demons and they're all still fresh. He has an undeniable innocence to himself still too. He's raw. He feverishly inquires whether it hurts, whether you're comfortable, apologies countless times over nothing at all, he's all fingers and thumbs, asks time and time again whether you're absolutely sure of this even though you were the one who suggested it, adjusts the pillow under his beloved's head, soothes them, hugs them, is infinitely concerned throughout the whole act and he undoubtedly needs more comfort and aftercare than the actual pregnant partner involved, if that's at all possible; oh, but he wants to please --- tremendously, more than anything, practically vibrating at the thought of being so close to the two people who so wholly belong to him --- but there's always this shadow of a doubt hanging over him like a dark cloud that he'll do something wrong, and for the lack of a better word, mess up royally. Injure beloved. Injure their unborn kid. Something that'll be his fault the way it always is. Something he'll never be able to take back. You see, he sees only the worst of outcomes here and he's overthinking wildly, already envisioning hospital beds and beloved miscarrying their baby. PTSD kicking in, he undoubtedly cuts the sex short half way through it on his own accord with a million 'I'm sorry''s added to the mix while he cradles his own face in his hands. He really is sorry. But, he fears losing control and being responsible for what could happen if he makes a mistake and it overshadows an otherwise sweet moment and everything about it. Regardless of his genuine anguish though --- which really is genuine, by the way --- Twig is probably hard as hell throughout the entire outpouring of regret even as it happens.

― In the 80's on the other hand, Terry Silver's the one suggesting sex while beloved's heavily pregnant and you better believe it. It is his idea. His very own brainchild. His own vision coming to light. His agenda. He has his eyes on the prize the minute beloved's body starts changing, swelling up, becoming more rounded and even long before that --- in fact, man's probably fantasized and schemed about it since day one, placing his bets on a long con like a lecherous snake. He thinks few things are hotter, if anything at all, than pounding into someone already his so fully that their very physique are hormones are changing thanks to him. Due to him. All for him. Due to what he did to beloved --- and what he'll continue doing too. It is the ultimate act of control. Of possession. Something straight out of the animal kingdom. Claiming and re-claiming time and time again. And yes, it gets him irrationally horny. Downright feral. Because he did that. Him alone. And he'll do it again. And he'll do it while it's in the process of happening. Pre pregnancy. During it. And after it. Always. Thing is, he likes it. Takes relish in it. In the entirety of beloved's form, not just the sexual aspect of it. He likes the weight gain. Their ballooning. Their sensitivity. Limited movement. Their cravings. Appetites. Their scent. How they glow. How they waddle. How they ache. How they feel when he's inside of them. How their limbs are sore and heavy and all the ways he can personally stretch them, massage them and alleviate their pain and simultaneously enjoy it too in all it's fragility, devoted, meticulous sadist that he is. Fucking while pregnant is only just the beginning. The whole state of pregnancy is undoubtedly so alluring to Terry that in no time at all after giving birth, beloved finds themselves knocked up again in double quick time. Whoops.

― Undeniably, being old himself, Terry Silver at a more advanced age sees the indescribable allure of beloved quite literally glowing with life and fertility at this stage, contrasts and all. Swollen with his legacy. Swollen with health. Vigor. Being at the prime and peak of themselves. He doesn't just want to fuck them, he wants his hands all over them, lingering, languid, caressing the curved outline of their belly, taking them in, looking them up and down, admiring them, every part of them, unable to contain his smile, wishing and intending to burn all of this into his memory, relishing in every change, every fluctuation --- everything that occurred thanks to him. He wants to consume them whole. He does everything with his eyes long before he does it with his body, regret and desire intermingling while a million thoughts race through his mind how he yearns he had this much sooner. Years or even decades ago. As such, the act of having sex with beloved while pregnant is not only incredibly erotic, it is also somehow simultaneously very tragic to him, very jubilant, very triumphant and yet completely heart wrenching (and even anger inducing) because he might be inside of beloved, yes, but he might just simultaneously also be calculating whether he'd see his child grow up. Graduate. Say his name. Whether he'll actually have time to teach them all the things he wants to teach them and the idea of not having control over this --- well, it's infuriating. It makes him feral. Sexually frustrated. It makes him want beloved all the more. It makes him want to burry himself so deep inside of them until they're one, and nothing and nobody can separate them, causing him to enjoy and hyperfocus on every sensation like it could be his very last. Naturally, the way he fucks beloved due to it, oh, it's possibly the most intense, passionate sex of their life.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Valentines, Shana! More Female!Mo Xuanyu!Wei Wuxian please? The drama and identity porn and hijinx are Too Good!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

Through several death defying feats and lots of bruises, Wei Wuxian has finally strengthened Mo Xuanyu’s core enough to track the threads of the curse mark. This should be a moment of triumph, what he’s been building towards, finally able to see who it is that drove Mo Xuanyu to such foolish, desperate lengths.

Mostly he’s just frustrated.

“Jin Guangshan?” he demands once he pulls himself out of his meditation. “Of all the – he’s not even that good of a cultivator! If she had the power to summon me, surely she had the power to murder him herself!”

Probably not enough power to get away with it, to keep herself from getting caught and tried and executed, but that shouldn’t matter. She died anyway.

Great. Just great. Even if he were willing to kill him, he’s nowhere near Jin Guangshan. Mo Xuanyu should have really left him a note or something. Then he could have dealt with this before being dragged to Cloud Recesses.

Wei Wuxian pauses, considering. Is he willing to kill Jin Guangshan? He’s never liked the man. From his lecherous behavior to his actions after the war and especially with how he’d treated the Wen, he’s never gained an ounce of respect from him. Not to mention forcing Mo Xuanyu into this marriage and legitimatizing her only to prevent his son from being with the man who loves him.

Is that worthy of death? He’s killed for less, but Jin Guangshan is also his sister’s father in law and his nephew’s grandfather.

He wishes Shijie was here. She or even Jiang Cheng would know what he should do.

The thought sends a pang through his chest that he does his best to ignore. He misses his siblings. Being able to see Lan Zhan again, especially when he started being sort of nice to him, is wonderful. But the days he’d been able to spend with Shijie and Jiang Cheng had been too short, and too little, when he couldn’t tell them who he was and had no reason to want to be around them so desperately.

He’d only managed to get glimpses of his nephew, who had his sister’s sweet face and Jin Zixuan’s unfortunate scowl. He’d wanted to go over and pinch his cheeks, but even as his aunt that hadn’t felt like something that he was allowed.

Wei Wuxian breathes in then out, forcing the phantom pain out on his exhale with years of practice.

He can’t ask his siblings. But he can ask Mo Xuanyu’s.

If anyone knows the true moral character of Jin Guangshan, it’s Jin Guangyao.

Wei Wuxian had been avoiding him, both because he wasn’t sure how well Jin Guangyao had known his half sister and he didn’t want to arise suspicion, and also because he hadn’t known him that well the first time around. He’d known him first as an overly polite Nie general, then their spy during the war, and finally as Jin Guangshan’s dutiful son.

None of those roles had ever seemed to fit him quite right. Seeing him interact with Lan Xichen is the closest Wei Wuxian has seen him to relaxed.

He guesses it’s time for the two of them to get to know each other properly.

[crybaby-magic]

His unruly dragon

nezha x reader

Yalls relationship is like a cat owner with an orange cat that constantly eats catnip.While he’s doing his job guarding or other important task you weren't.You'd prefer scaring other guards or terrorize other animals in your dragon form.And that’s exactly what your were doing with you being crouched in your tiny dragon form perched on a tree broach waiting for your next victim.

You soon sensed some heading past the tree you were in.Once they were close enough you pounced on the person from behind knocking them down to the ground with your body.You were laughing maniacally as you transformed back into your human form adding more weight to the body that you were on.You manic laughing ceased once your heard a familiar groan.

“Eek!Nezha!” you squeaked as you moved off of his body. “W-what are y-you- w-why…I’M SORRY”you apologized while bowing hoping that the lecher that you get is not that bad.But sadly that was inevitable when you felt him wack you across the head with an irritated glare.

A disappointed sigh left his mouth as he stood above you looking at you,while you tried to avoid his gaze. “Seeing as I'm here you already know why, especially with the stunt you just pulled.”With a grumble you slowly nodded your head.Nezha sighs once more before patting your head.You move your head to rub against his hand.”You do know you'll have to do task with me from now on because you not only terrorized the guards you nearly destroyed part of the building.”A sudden memory crossed your mind when you remembered you did nearly destroyed the building but it wasn’t really your fault.(it kinda was but who’s counting)

Looking at his face you were quick to pounce on him to give him lots of kisses while he laughed at your antics.You didn’t mind getting in trouble cause you get to be by Nezha’s side more and you didn’t mind the excuse to bother your boyfriend more.That’s probably why they send him to deal with your unruly behaviors.