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#I can post smut now -- (??
choccy-milky · 2 months
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MC doing what we all wished we could do (aka napping on the floor with ominis )😴💕
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shadesoflsk · 23 days
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older leon x gn reader. suggestive towards the end.
Older Leon who loves when you guys do night routines together. He isn’t insecure about his age but he's painfully aware of the wrinkles forming on his forehead.
You love them, though. Delicate fingertips tracing the lines that are proof of his age and hard work. You couldn’t help but leave out soft praises at him whenever you're doing this daily activity of yours. A reminder of his worth.
Little things that show this beautiful process of aging is what gets you going on the day. On lazy Sundays when the sun hasn't even risen yet Leon would be awake. Newspaper in hand and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. His eyes squinting to read the small words on the paper. You would gently laugh when you watch him disregarding the front page to play the usual sudoku that the newspaper brought.
Leon would let you brush his hair, finding the softness of your hands comforting in the middle of the afternoon. However, teasing words would break the peaceful atmosphere that had set in: "You have another gray hair," you would say, letting him know the fact that his blonde hair is slowly turning white.
"Yours will do the same, you know?" A cheeky grin as always.
Your favorite place used to be his chest, still is. Nonetheless, as the years went by, you started loving other parts of his. From sleeping soundly on his chest, you would smoothly go down until your face was pressed against his abdomen that once was toned. Nowadays, it was as soft as a pillow, slightly rounded since working out isn't his priority anymore.
And for him, it was the perfect sight ever. Every time he looked down, his thumb would brush over your cheek to your lips.
And being discreet wasn't on his top list. Especially with the way he so easily pushed his thumb past your lips.
Old habits are never lost.
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osamusriceballs · 10 months
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Last-Minute Plans
Ushijima x fem reader
Warnings: NSFW (cockwarming, rather soft)
Words: ~ 1,5 k
About: Wakatoshi got a ring for you, and he needs to make sure it fits.
A/n: Happy Birthday to our beloved Wakatoshi-kun~
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"It fits,"
he mumbles with a sigh of relief, one he hadn't realized he was holding. He looks contently at the jewelry now adorning your ring finger.
Ushijima knows that he's late with this. He should have attempted this plan a long time ago; he despises last-minute actions. Lately, however, you've insisted on waiting until he returns home late from practice due to extended training sessions just before the crucial match, making it impossible for him to secretly slip that ring onto your finger to see if it fits. He's aware he hasn't been giving you the time you deserve lately, but he's determined to make it up as soon as he can. He intends to spoil you as soon as the match is over and his schedule finally allows him to have more free time, treating you like the princess you are.
He had nearly abandoned the idea of trying the ring on your finger. He considered simply hoping for the best, planning to alter the ring quickly after proposing if it didn't fit. He knows you wouldn't have minded, but he wanted this moment to be perfect. The first difficulty he had encountered, however, was that you had rings in various sizes in your jewelry box- probably for different fingers, but even after sorting through them, he was still not convinced that he chose the right size.
Relief washes over him as he sees the ring fitting comfortably, and for a short moment, he envisions your future together. He dreams of having you sleep beside him every night, of going on the vacation you've always dreamed of, and of giving you the beautiful wedding ceremony you've always wanted. He's already asked Tendou to be his best man and informed his parents of his plans. He even decided to send his father a notice that his son will be getting married soon—hopefully.
The ring looks stunning on your hand. It's noticeable yet subtly elegant. He's confident you'll love it; you've often praised his taste, describing him as simple in his choices, which you adore.
His gaze drifts to your peaceful sleeping form. You must be exhausted not to have woken up yet. Normally, you'd wait until he returns or awaken when he quietly lies down beside you, an act he's yet to master. You'd always greet him with a tender kiss, a gesture he cherishes most during his days and misses the most when he's away. Yet, you sleep soundly, your face soft, breathing steady. You're wearing one of his shirts, the old Shiratorizawa jersey you claim is the comfiest—adorable on you, he agrees.
He's fairly certain you're wearing only flimsy panties beneath, but he'll take his sweet time tomorrow to explore every inch of your body.
"Toshi," your sleepy voice pulls him from his daydreams, and he quickly hides the ring, clutching your hand in his. You stir, turning towards him, brows furrowing as you reach out blindly.
"Y/n, go back to sleep. It's late," he murmurs in a soothing tone, knowing you find his voice calming.
"I missed you," you groan, squinting your eyes as you try to make out his face in the dimly lit room.
"I missed you too," he replies, smiling softly and leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. You smile in return, bringing your free hand to his cheek, a bit clumsily—almost slapping his face, but he doesn't mind; he is simply happy having you close.
"You haven't shaved today," you mumble as you caress his cheek. He hums in response. "I forgot. Does it bother you?"
"No, it doesn't. But you never forget to shave. What was on your mind today?"
You, he thinks, but for once, he refrains from sharing his thoughts. He needs to distract you, to take back the ring unnoticed. How you haven't noticed it so far surprises him.
"I was thinking about…" he begins, his voice trailing off, unsure how to respond without you getting suspicious.
"Wakatoshi, come to bed. You seem really tired," you yawn, and he suddenly knows what he needs to do.
Ushijima leans down to kiss you again, this time deepening the kiss with more passion. He feels your response, your body arching into his touch, your lips moving in sync with his.
"Toshi," you're already breathless after a few kisses, and he finally feels your hand relax, fingers intertwining with his with the metal still on your finger. He typically holds your hand more firmly, but now he keeps his grip gentle, ensuring you don't feel the ring on your finger. With his free hand, he traces the hem of your shirt, his fingers gliding beneath the fabric, encountering the softness of your skin.
"Want you, but I'm tired," you whisper against his lips, prompting him to nuzzle against your neck. "Should I pleasure you? Should I make you feel full?" You moan softly and weakly nod, your eyes barely open in the dark room. Unbeknownst to you, a wave of relief washes over him. This may not be going exactly as he planned, but making love to you with the ring already on your finger is better than he could have imagined.
He quickly runs through potential scenarios in which he could smoothly slide the ring off your finger, deciding to position himself behind you while maintaining a hold on your hand in front of your body. Shifting his body weight, he maneuvers behind you until his chest presses against your back. He skillfully settles beneath the blanket without releasing your hand, making sure not to tighten his grip around your fingers. His lips find your neck, where he places the gentlest kisses against your skin, earning the softest, most beautiful moans from your lips. His hips begin to rhythmically move against your backside, and he feels how he hardens in his pants.
You contently hum while you lean into his touch, raising one leg to allow him to slip his thigh between yours. "Feels good," you murmur as he starts a grinding motion against your pussy. He feels his growing need, a nearly instinctive response to your body. His earlier suspicion about you wearing only his shirt and panties appears accurate; that much he notices when his shorts ride up and his bare thigh grinds against your cunt. As much as he wants the feeling of your bare skin against his, he knows that undressing might raise too much suspicion. Instead, he guides his free hand downward, gently tracing circles against your clothed center.
"You're so perfect. So beautiful. I love you so much," he whispers into your ear, causing you to shudder in his arms. Your grip on his hand tightens, while your other hand softly clutches the sheets. He understands your needs. Grateful that he's still wearing the soft shorts, he pushes them down slightly, quickly freeing his cock.
"Should I use some lube?" he asks, concern lacing his voice, worried about hurting you since he hasn't fully prepared you yet—a truly challenging task when ensuring your hand remains held and he can only use one hand properly.
"Think I'm wet enough," you mumble, and he dips two fingers between your folds to confirm, and he is rewarded with enough arousal to forget about his worries.
As much as he wants to ravish you right now, he knows you would probably drift off to sleep if he makes love to you tenderly—so that's precisely what he does. He gently spreads your legs further with his thigh, allowing his cock to rest between your legs. It has almost become a routine for him to set aside your panties and gradually ease his cock inside you- a practice that you often do after he comes home late from his practice sessions.
A breathy moan escapes your lips at the stretch, and he feels his own body tensing at the sensation of your soft walls around him. He continues to push until he's fully inside of you. You always take him so well—it feels breathtaking to be buried deep inside you. He still hopes you'll succumb to sleep in this embrace, even though he's surely wide awake himself.
"Feels good," you hum, your breathing gradually returning to a steady rhythm. He pulls you closer, inhaling the soothing flowery scent of your hair- a scent that always brings him comfort and calms his mind when he can't seem to rest. You might not fully grasp how much he loves you—how every fiber of his being yearns for you, how he wishes for you to be happy and to be his. This is precisely why he plans to propose to you tomorrow and to place the ring back on your finger. You wouldn't refuse him on his birthday, would you?
"Sleep well, my love."
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sirbird · 2 months
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Redraw of my very first piece of Miguel and of A Fortunate Mistake :)
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tio-trile · 10 months
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Oh good Neil Gaiman finally unfollowed me after all my bullshit I can be even more unhinged now
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motherraid · 2 months
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I can’t find any rules so if your uncomfortable plz feel free to ignore this but I recently found out that when a afab person sits on someone else lap, they can feel the *throb™*
So I’m currently thinking what would Sebek do if during the Masquerade s/o fem!reader ended up sitting on his lap and he felt the throb. What would he do? Would he get hard or would he wonder what it is?
Can I be ✨🎀 anon plz? If you do those kinds of anon thingies lol
Omg of course???!?!?! It's been so long since I've taken an ask from a named anon what you're so nice 😭😭😭
AND YOU HAD TO PULL A SCENARIO FROM MY FAVORITE EVENT TOO ILY
((Grinding, manipulation/gaslighting(??), boners (lol), slight exhibitionism(?? If you squint i think) more big boy words and can't really think or anything else as a description, IM SORRYYY I NEED CHARACTER EXAGGERATION IT'S AN ADDICTION))
Well, well. Back to lap sitting. It seems you all have a certain taste.
Boring answer is he feels it, gets embarrassed, and asks you to get up before he even begins to feel anything. He'd probably offer you his seat and walk off to find another seat he can sit down in. He's red faced, but that's it.
Fun answer?
I believe that Sebek WILL know where it's coming from. I'm sure he has some knowledge in sex ed or smth and if he doesn't, he's still very smart. He can make the connection and what was causing it easily. And when he looks up at you in concealed confusion, he can tell by your nonchalant expression that you aren't doing it on purpose. He assumes it's a natural thing that you shouldn't be ashamed of. So, by that logic, if you feel something hardening under your ass, surely you can understand that it's just natural, right? It's nothing to freak out over, I mean, who wouldn't get hard when there's such a darling sitting in his lap?
And who could possibly have known that something as simple as a pulse could be so alluring?
I mean, if we're talking sweet ol classic Sebek, he'd probably be aaaaabsolutely mortified. His immediate reaction would be to politely tap you on the shoulder and ask you (in the quietest voice he's ever had in his life) to stand so he can use the restroom. He won't even make it to full erection by the time he's flown from the room lol. And as soon as he makes it into semi-privacy, you won't see him for a good while. Well, at least until he can either will his erection to die or pathetically rub one out in a restroom stall like a loser (lmao). Most likely the former. His pride wouldn't allow him to do something so humiliating. If someone heard or caught him whimpering while he spazzes with his dick in his hand mid orgasm he'd truly never show his face in public again.
If you two are in a relationship then maybe he won't be so quick to run away and pitifully consider jacking off to the feeling of you throbbing in his lap- wishing he could feel your throbbing while deliciously stretched around his dick and welcoming every inch deeper into your warm cunt until either he runs out of inches or you run out of space.
No, no. He may just steadily place both hands on each of your thighs and bury his face into the back of your shoulder. Or the crook of your neck depending on how tall you are.
("Please... Just stay here for a moment. I swear that I'll let you up soon.. But for now I need you to stay put... and try not to move too much." )
And uhm.. Mk so you know it's not a Duke post without some sort or freak in there, and I just can not write something without going feral about it and the only way I can go feral about it is if I exaggerate his character so PERVY SEBEK
So if you somehow had managed to sit down in his lap and he feels his zipper area becoming a bit uncomfortable, you'd better have a strong will. The absolute degrading filth this boy will spew into your ears will either have you grinding into his crotch and begging him for more or trying to muffle your hurt/confused sobs. Best believe he ain't going nowhere, and neither are you for your little stunt. Sure, you may not have been intentionally trying to arouse him, but you are the one who insisted on using him as a seat when there are plenty of places to rest. That must have been what you wanted, huh? To see him all red faced and bothered? You probably like seeing him breaking a sweat, lip between his teeth and digging his digits into the underside of the seat. You must loove making him horny. It's like you get a kick out of it. Is it funny for you? To see him in agony?
Well, two can play at that game. Don't even bother acting surprised when he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you tight to his chest. He might wait for a person or two to pass out of view before his tongue sneaks a quick swipe against your earlobe. His breath is heavy on your neck while he nuzzles his face into your hair. Thank the Seven for the loud(ish) music echoing off the walls, or else anyone a good few feet from you would be able to hear him groaning in your ear. All while one of his hands slowly slides towards the inside of your thigh and gives it a good squeeze.
And don't even think about saying anything. It's all your fault, you know. You just casually decide to sit in a guys lap and act surprised when he gets hard? Just like your enticing second heartbeat, an erection is something that can not be helped sometimes. They can happen anywhere, and every guy can agree to that. So what will it look like when you purposefully sit in his lap, throbbing against his thigh with your ass sat firmly against his crotch? Did you forget you're in a school of boys? They'd understand him in a heartbeat. Some may even say you did it on purpose. You'll only embarrass yourself. So stay still, stay inconspicuous, and stay silent.
Let's be honest, though. He's hanging on by a thread. He's just so embarrassed that you've managed to get him this vulnerable and he's taking that out on you. You feel so warm and smell soo good. It's taking every ounce of restraint to hide his gasps and grunts from the spread crowd around you both. Trust they can't be concealed from you, though. You can hear everything. Not to mention feel everything. It's impossible to ignore him spreading his legs a bit and slowly rolling his hips into you.
If he's miserable and desperate, he'll make you feel even worse. Unless you'd rather sneak away and give him the blow job he deserves for putting up with you. Lend him you pussy for a while and he might even spare you a lecture about public decency once this trip is over. (How hypocritical.)
And he's lying. Of course you'll be getting properly disciplined when this is all over. A hands-on lecture is a must. Best not to worry about that now, though. Just enjoy the moment. He sure is.
("I should have known better than to humor you. To think I actually believed you might have been behaving decently for once.")
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toshidou · 1 year
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you are a legend for this, and i think everyone should be personally thanking you for this absolutely massive brained, pussy altering, dick twinging idea.
wc // 1.4k
tags // 18+ ONLY, afab reader (no pronouns mentioned), bottom!Ghost, top!reader, strap on, stomach bulge, overstimulation, crying, no aftercare written but i promise simon gets all the kisses and cuddles needed after <33
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Harsh sounds of wet skin slapping obscenely together echoes against the pastel painted walls of your bedroom; the low light of a full moon casting a perfect spotlight on the mattress, highlighting every rippling muscle in the back of the man who lies under you. His fingers are gripping onto loose, scrunched sheets, knuckles white and veins popping, as though his tight hold on sullied bed linen is the last frayed thread keeping his sanity together.
"Fucking shit," parted lips practically whine, shining with drool in the dim light of the darkened sky above, painting a picture you commit to memory for a lonely night where your hand is your only solace.
“Feels good to get fucked, doesn’t it baby?” You croon, fingers caressing the scarred skin of his thighs, so hot to the touch, slick with sweat and lube, “Knew you’d like this, fuckin’ knew you’d be a slut for strap.” You don’t get a verbal response, just deep, intoxicating groans that reverberate through the mattress, positively drunk on power as you watch this military enigma, this well-respected, commanding figure fall apart from under you. Because of you.
You slow your hips, leaning back on your knees just to watch the way silicone so deliciously stretches his pink rim. Hungry eyes observing just how easily it swallows every inch given to it so fucking greedily, still fluttering around the base of your strap, as though all ten inches of thick cock buried within his body wasn’t enough, as if he somehow needs more.
Simon Riley looks nothing less than pornographic when he gets fucked, skin burning red, lips parted in the perfect little ‘o’, hips wantonly canting back against yours because he can think of nothing else but how fucking incredible he feels. And it’s not at all fair, because when he leaves you for weeks on end, all you can think about is this. How taut muscle ripples under your fingertips, so sensitive to every touch against his skin, no matter how feather-light. Haunted by the way his usually baritone growl pitches up, wrecked whines replacing low grunts with every forceful thrust.
“Turn over for me baby, want to see how pretty you look when you cum on my strap.”
Solid fingers unfurl from the sheets, leaving indents in their place as he shakily attempts to turn over, the only aid you offer coming in the form of pulling the silicone cock from his abused hole with a satisfying pop, reveling in his responding disgruntled huff.
His back hits the mattress not long after, built thighs automatically spreading, coaxing you like a siren call as you shuffle ever closer, fingernails dragging from his kneecap to his inner thigh, perfect red marks left in their wake. God, he’s a vision like this. Sultry, lidded eyes stare up at you, pupils engulfing his irises, leaving only vacant black in its place, gazing at you as though you are all he’s ever needed, as though he'd kiss the ground if he knew you'd walked on it. Thick, tattooed arms come to hook under his knees, pulling up until they meet rounded pecks, resting just under perked, dusty nipples. The sight alone has you leaking, your inner thighs soaked with arousal under the thick harness straps, clit throbbing with need, unstimulated and wanting. So desperately wanting. But you hardly feel it, no fingers against your sex could even come close to the feeling of lining up a silicone tip with his presented hole, clenching lewdly around air, beckoning you to fill him to the hilt once again.
Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the sight that awaits you as the strap sinks effortlessly into his hole. Flat, muscled skin gives way to plastic, rising in the perfect imprint of your cock, growing ever larger until hips meet flush against his ass. You can’t take your eyes of it, both hands moving down to push against his distended abdomen, desperate to check if your mind is deceiving you, if your strap is actually moulding his body into a perfect fleshlight, just for you.
“Fuckin’ hell, don’t-,” A hitch in his breath as your fingers curl over the bump, ignoring the harsh twitch of his cock as it bobs above your hand, “Don’t do that, don’t wanna cum yet.”
Molten eyes flick up to meet his head on, a challenge set like steel in your mind as you withdraw your hips, palms still pressing down against his now flat stomach. Chestnut brown hair hits the pillow the second you begin to fuck him with earnest, leaning your weight on your hands just to hear the frenzied curses and pleas that fall from his pretty lips, barely able to see past his chin from where his head is thrown back.
“Who said you were only cumming once tonight, Simon?” Your words punctuated with every sharp smack of hips against his ass and inner thighs, the skin stinging red with every brutal slap. With near perfect timing, Simon’s cries pitch up to a decibel you never thought possible from him, watching with nothing less than unconstrained awe as thick streams of white coat his skin all the way up to his sternum, dripping down onto your hands, his cock twitching helplessly as he comes untouched on your strap.
But you don’t relent, not for a second. Your hips don’t falter, fucking him through his climax until he’s shaking from overstimulation, his spent cock weeping pathetically where it rests on his abdomen, cum coated hands leaving his stomach only to play torturously with the dark red head of his dick.
It takes you a moment to realise, so caught up in his pleasure that you don’t notice his chin tilt down, not until you hear it. A sniffle. One glance is all it takes to see that you’ve reduced Simon to tears, wide yearning eyes shine so perfectly in the moonlight, pretty tear tracks running down red blotched cheeks, streaming down his jugular where they pool in indented collarbones. You’ve never wanted to lick something more in your entire life, knowing without doubt that salted tears would melt to saccharine sugar on your tongue, the taste of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
The sight only spurs you on further, thrusts increasing to a near feverish pace, chasing a high that will never come for you, but you don’t care, nothing else matters in this moment more than the man who lays under you, twitching, squirming, and crying, begging for more, sobbing for less, desperate for you. You can’t choose where to look, given an impossible choice of staring at his wrecked face, or the ever-present bulge that raises at every cant of your hips, eventually settling for the latter, eyes near drilling holes into the imprint of your strap from where it’s buried within him.
Pathetic, whimpered babbles drip from Simon’s lips, his eyes unfocused, blurred by tears and blinded by overwhelming pleasure, unable to do anything but lie there and take it, take everything you’re willing to give him with no complaints, just unconditional obedience. And fuck, does it suit him, he wears submission like he’s made for it, crafted so perfectly to give everything that he is over to your trusted hands. It makes you feel like a God.
It only takes a fingertip, dragged from his balls up to his frenulum before he’s pushed over the edge once again, his red, swollen hole spasming around unyielding plastic, sucking your strap in, forcing you to remain still as weak spurts of cum drips down the bloated skin of his abs, joining dried seed from his previous climax, painting the perfect picture of bliss on his skin.
And whilst Simon lies there, chest heaving and eyes painted with pretty stars formed by unshed tears, you can’t help but lean to the side and grab your phone, capturing the moment with shaking hands.
After all, you’ll need this photo for when Simon is away again, to remind yourself that you are the only person on the face of this Earth to ever have earned his submission. To ever reduce him to a mess of his own release and tears.
And as you throw your phone to the side, lowering your chest to lay flush with his, lips meeting in a soft, adoring kiss, you know he’s all you’ll ever need and so, so much more.
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dollypopup · 1 month
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push it
"What have you done to me, Penelope?" “I–but I have not done anything!" “Then that is the problem! Because I want you to do so much, and have written of you, endlessly written of you, and wrapped myself in thoughts of you and it has done nothing to ease me. Day and night and morning and evening, all I can think about– all I can think about– is you. You have haunted me. So do not talk of how– how I have avoided you out of revulsion, when it could not be farther from the truth. When all I want and all I have wanted is you.” “Me?” she asked, almost dumbly. Feeling as though a lamb for slaughter and he were the knife, how he would sink into the soft underbelly of her, spill her loose. And how she yearned for it. “You.” OR: Instead of writing travel logs, Colin's entries in his journal are erotica. And, of course, Penelope finds out.
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So, I haven't gotten too far into Nightbringer to write any specific smut for it. (Literally only just started lesson 6). But I do have some ideas!!
A lot of my ideas revolve around being the demon's "first" in something. Like, you know your demons inside and out at this point. You know all their kinks, fantasies, and where to touch them to make them squirm. So you can introduce them to all sorts of things that make them scream in the future but they have no experience with now.
For example, showing Lucifer how much of a masochist he is. I don't think Lucifer is a complete virgin in Nightbringer as I think he fooled around as an angel at least a few times. I mean, he's still a few thousand years old, he was bound to get curious and try getting frisky with a few angels. But him trying out BDSM? I seriously doubt it.
So once you and him finally fall into bed together, you show him all the ways he didn't know he loved to be touched. Having such an inexperienced Lucifer is a bit of a novelty and a bit of an annoyance. Present day Lucifer knew what he wanted and he wasn't ashamed of asking for it. The Lucifer you're currently bedding? Doesn't know what he wants.
It's actually really cute how shy Lucifer is. How he tries so hard to stifle his moans when you heard much louder, much needier ones from your present Lucifer.
And you don't want to push him. It's entirely possible that past Lucifer has no interest in BDSM. That his particular taste for masochism and being owned evolved after many centuries.
But you still want to try, to possibly open his eyes to a new world of domination and submission.
So one evening, one careful evening you've been planning for. One evening in which you make sure that his brothers haven't wreaked havoc, one evening where Diavolo doesn't up to distract Lucifer cause him stress. One perfect, relaxing evening, you spring the question onto him.
"Lucifer, have you heard about BDSM?" You ask in your most light, most casual tone to not raise any alarm bells and spook the demon.
Lucifer pauses his undressing, his hands suspended in the air as his tie hangs loosely around his neck. He turns to you in slow motion, looking so bewildered and confused that it makes you want to laugh. Surely your demon couldn't be that pure right? You know he's only been a demon for a little more than a year now, but, come on.
"I'm sorry, have I heard about what?"
"BDSM! Like, Bondage, Domination, Submissive, Masochism. Have you heard of people doing that sort of thing in bed?"
Lucifer's face turns a bright scarlet and he turns away from you. Like, actually physically turning his full back to you, turning away from you. You can see his ears still burning though, and elect not to tease him about it in worry that if you do, Lucifer might become so embarrassed he'll stop being the Avatar of Pride.
"It's fine if you haven't. If you would rather I never bring it up again say the word and I wouldn't." You tell him, concern starting to creep in.
"No. No, it's fine. I just. Why did you choose to bring that topic up?" He asks stiffly, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. A classical Lucifer "I'm nervous about this topic because it inflicts Feelings in me" move.
"I was just wondering. I have been in dom/sub relationships in the, um, past, and was wondering if that was something you'll be into," you say gently, so extremely gently. "It's fine if that's not something you're into." You add.
"You have?" He asks in surprise, and because you know him so well, with a hint of excitement. "What... what role did you fall into?"
Relief crashes into you like a tidal wave. He's into it. He's really into it from what you can tell. He hasn't had any experience with subbing, you know because your Lucifer didn't when you meet him, but he was so desperate to finally try he practically threw himself at your feet.
Not this Lucifer though. This Lucifer most likely knows of the idea, maybe he picked up some porn featuring a dom/sub relationship and knows on some level that he's interested in subbing, but hasn't had the time to stew in that knowledge like your Lucifer did.
"Dominate." You say with confidence, a grin painting your face. "I like control in the bedroom."
And judging by the shiver that shoots up Lucifer's spine at your words, so does he.
Grinning, you stand and begin stalking towards your prey.
"I like taking control of my partner. Make them beg for relief. And if they misbehave, I like to punish them."
"Do. Do you?" Lucifer asks breathlessly.
You're standing behind him and you know he knows you're there. His demon sense picking up on it, and by the way he almost leans backward as if to meet your touch, you know he wants you.
"I do." You state confidently, mere inches away from Lucifer.
"But," your hand grasps Lucifer's shoulder and he flinches. "If my partner didn't want that...." You give him a light pull and he complies, turning to face you.
And oh, what a sight that is.
You missed your subby little Luci. You missed his cute moans, his tears as you edged him, and his screams when you overstimulated him. And you missed his flushed face when you lowered him into subspace.
And this? This perfectly mimics that face.
"Oh, baby." You breathe out, fighting the urge to pepper his face in kisses and pull him into your chest.
"And what if I do? Would you do those things to me?" Lucifer asks, and you're so, so proud of him for asking.
"Darling, I would do all that and more." You say as you kiss him.
Like your Lucifer did in the past, like he will do in the future, he lets you take control.
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extralively · 1 month
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Movie Night
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Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character NSFW (it's just smut) 4,936 words Also posted on AO3 Summary: Satoru has Yura over for a little movie night, but what he has in mind is something completely different. So Yura decides to teach him to have a little patience as she... 'enjoys the movie'.
While I'm editing the next chapter of the main fic (coming soon!), lemme just post this oneshot here on tumblr. If you've been keeping up with the series on AO3, you might have already read this one!
Anyway, this is just pure filth and can be read as standalone. Enjoy!
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Whenever Satoru asked Yura to watch a movie with him nowadays, it was an inevitability that it would eventually lead to sex. When it would happen was always up in the air—as in, if they were going to actually get through the entire movie or not—but in general, whenever they decided to hang out at each other’s apartments alone, sex was a foregone conclusion.
Of course, Yura sometimes still wanted to watch the damn movie.
...But she also had to admit that sometimes, she too had something else in mind.
“So, what’s the movie this time?” Yura asked, flopping down onto Satoru’s comfy leather couch.
Satoru soon joined her after he grabbed the TV’s remote, sitting next to her. “It’s a romcom,” he said, stretching out his long legs to rest his feet on the coffee table. “It came out recently.”
Yura shifted on her side, resting her head on the back cushion as she let her legs curl on top of his, her body halfway on his lap. “...It’s not porn again this time, is it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
Satoru let out a huff. “That wasn’t porn! That was... an erotic movie. It’s a Japanese classic!”
“I mean...” Yura tilted her head. “The movie is like ninety percent very explicit sex—until the woman cuts the guy’s dick off at the end.”
“Well...” Satoru sighed. “That was only after the guy was already dead...”
Yura snorted.
Satoru eventually started the movie up, and their attention shifted to his ridiculously large TV screen. This time, it really seemed to be a mostly light-hearted movie, and Yura quickly relaxed into the couch cushions, letting her head rest against his shoulder as she curled further into his side.
As the main characters of the story started being introduced, Yura’s hand came up to hold onto the crook of Satoru’s elbow, the one trapped between her body and his—which meant that his other arm was free to caress her leg as he pleased. And Yura sighed in approval, enjoying his touch on her bare skin; she had already changed into what could pass off as comfortable pajamas: an old pair of shorts and an oversized sweater—she’d figured she would not be leaving Satoru’s apartment again until tomorrow so she might as well make herself comfortable, right? And Satoru had also had the same idea, having already changed out of his street clothes and into sweatpants and a loose t-shirt—both now perfectly cozy until all these clothes were inevitably chucked off somewhere later in the night.
Familiar story beats were happening on screen—nothing too innovative, bordering on cliché. Yura tried to focus on the movie, she really did, but it wasn’t particularly gripping... and Satoru’s hand on her leg was more than a little distracting. And that was before his other hand moved despite its limited mobility between the two of them, coming up to gently caress her thigh; that, she was more than certain, was completely deliberate. The bastard definitely knew what he was doing here.
“Satoru, it’s been like ten minutes since the start of the movie,” she told him, amused.
“Hmm?” Satoru replied, tilting his head towards her ever so slightly. “I’m not doing anything, I’m just... watching the movie.”
The smile on his face clearly contradicted his words. Sly bastard.
Satoru turned his head to press his lips to the top of her head. “Not doing anything at all...” He pressed another kiss there. “Wouldn’t want to miss this amazing movie.” And another kiss. “I think it’s good enough to win an Oscar.”
Yura was trying to bite back a grin, as she didn’t want to give in too easily. By now, she was fairly sure Satoru had picked any random movie just so he could have the excuse of a movie night, when in reality, what he wanted was sex. She had no idea why he went the roundabout way sometimes, since he wasn’t exactly shy about just asking for it directly—so the least he could do was play along a little bit more, couldn’t he?
“The movie does seem pretty promising,” Yura said, still trying (and failing) to keep a smile off her face. “It would be a shame if we missed it.”
Her hand slid up from his arm to his chest, and she started drawing random imaginary figures on his shirt.
“Such a shame,” Satoru agreed, his hand wrapping around her thigh to hitch her leg higher on his lap.
Yura let her hand trail downward on his torso, reaching the waistband of his sweatpants and sliding her fingers over it. She could feel Satoru’s stomach contracting briefly at the pressure, and she couldn’t help herself; she let her hand slip under his t-shirt to brush against the bare skin there, her fingers finding the contours of his muscles and gently tracing along.
...Well, that might have been a bit too much, because Satoru suddenly lifted his free hand to hold her head, tilting it up as his lips immediately found hers and—goodbye movie.
Yura smiled against Satoru’s mouth as he shifted on the couch, maneuvering both of their bodies so she would fully turn towards him as he moved between her legs. Her hand had to leave his stomach with the movement, and she briefly lamented the lack of contact before he was quickly on her again.
As her hands came up to cradle his face close to her, his lips were a bit insistent as they moved against hers, no soft and slow movements this time—instead, Satoru locked their lips together in deep kisses that had her head spinning. He kept pushing her backwards too, until she eventually ended up lying back on the couch, Satoru always moving with her as he settled right between her legs. He was quick to pull off his sunglasses and toss them away, and Yura had to smile again at his clear impatience before his lips were immediately back on hers. Why had he even suggested a movie night when what he wanted for tonight was clearly this?
Oh well. Yura let her hands slip underneath Satoru’s shirt again to caress his back, while his tongue pushed its way into her mouth. One of his hands made its way down her waist, tilting her hips up and making sure they were perfectly slotted against his—so that once he started grinding his hips down onto hers, she would definitely feel it.
“...Someone’s a little impatient,” Yura breathed out as they disconnected their mouths. And Satoru didn’t even give himself a chance to breathe, as he immediately pressed his lips to her cheek and started trailing down kisses all the way to her neck.
“I was out all week,” he said, in between kisses to her skin.
Yura snorted. “We had sex yesterday.”
“...Still plenty of time we need to make up for.”
She was pretty sure Satoru was grinning against her neck, and Yura huffed out a laugh that ended up turning into a moan when Satoru started sucking on that one spot and ground his hips onto hers at the same time.
Satoru certainly seemed to be up and ready himself, didn’t he?
“You sure that you didn’t get turned on thinking about that porn movie from last time?” Yura huffed out as Satoru’s hips started insistently grinding against hers, effectively starting to dry hump her. Yura let her thighs spread a bit wider, tilting her hips so the pressure would be on just the right spot.
“...That was an erotic movie,” Satoru insisted, lifting his head back up. “And no... Maybe.” He shot her a crooked grin.
Satoru’s mouth found hers again. When his hands slipped down to start tugging at her shorts, Yura simply lifted her hips to assist their removal, and Satoru pulled away from her so he could tug her shorts and panties away in one go. She looked up at him, amused; so that was how eager he was? Zero patience for anything else, not even bothering to remove her oversized sweater as he completely bared her bottom to him.
And he, of course, wasn’t too far behind; after tossing her shorts and underwear somewhere, he immediately started pushing down his own pants, also neglecting to remove his own t-shirt. Yura could help, she thought, still amused as she looked up at Satoru rushing to remove his sweatpants. But Satoru was just so darn eager, that maybe... he could learn to have a little patience.
Yura sat up as Satoru was about to return to her, sans pants. And as she placed a hand on his chest to hold him back, making him look at her in confusion, she tried biting back a smile. “...I still want to watch the movie, though,” she said, and Satoru continued to stare, completely befuddled—he’d clearly been expecting something else.
He was so confused that when she started urging him backwards, he just let her guide him without a word. His blue eyes were blinking up at her as if to ask ‘what are you doing?’, but Yura only smiled in return, pushing him back until he was finally sitting again on the couch. She gave him no chance to say anything then, quickly climbing onto his lap—except it was to sit on it with her back to his chest. Not exactly what he had in mind, and as she grabbed his hands to wrap his arms around her body in an innocuous embrace, she could feel the sheer confusion radiating from all over him.
“...Yura,” Satoru eventually spoke up behind her as she settled onto his lap, facing the TV. Never mind that both of their bottom halves were completely bare, and she had purposefully sat with his erection under her... “What—”
“Shh,” she interrupted him. “It’s movie night, and I wanna watch a movie.”
She was desperately trying to bite back a grin.
“Yuraaaa,” he whined behind her, his arms tightening around her body as he dropped his forehead against her shoulder. “There are more fun things to do than a movie.”
Satoru’s hands tried moving up her chest, but she grabbed them again and held them in place. “You said we were going to watch a movie—so we’re watching a movie,” she said again. But her hips shifted around, rubbing against him, and Satoru drew in a sharp exhale.
Yura kept her eyes on the TV, even though she wasn’t actually paying attention. And neither was Satoru, although she wasn’t surprised in the least—she could still see a mess of white hair against the side of her head, his face still pressed against her shoulder as his arms held her tightly to him. His hips tried grinding up into her, and she could feel him tantalizingly close to her unclothed core—but patience. She shifted on his lap, sitting up straighter, and it made him whine again.
She unwrapped his arms from around her, removing them from her body. “Behave. It’s movie night, remember?” she said, and Satoru whined again.
...But the thing was, she had shifted on his lap, with a purpose. She could now open her thighs just a bit more, and, there you go—his member was slotted right against the crack of her buttocks. And Satoru sure had noticed that, suddenly going still as he seemed to be waiting for what she was going to do next.
And what she did next was grind her hips down, slowly. Satoru let out a shaky breath, and she did it again, and again, and to be honest, the more she shifted back, the more she could feel him rubbing against her outer folds. She was teasing him, yes, but it also left her wanting more, despite her little plan to act as blasé about it as possible—so Yura couldn’t help herself. She shifted back some more, sitting further back on his lap so she could feel his entire length resting right outside her core.
Yura bit her lip, looking down at her thighs to see the head of him poking out from between them. What a sight, she thought, but when she ground her hips down again, it didn’t really provide enough pressure to satisfy her properly, his member still remaining outside of her folds.
So she took matter into her own hands, literally—she reached down with one hand and used it to press him up against her, slotting him between her folds and finally rubbing herself against him. Her nether lips were hugging his length tightly, increasingly coating him in her wetness with every movement she made. Satoru’s hands were gripping her hips, trying to urge her further, and despite all that, Yura was still trying to pretend that she was fully engrossed in the movie in front of them.
“Satoru, you’re missing the best part,” Yura spoke up, and Satoru only let out a questioning hum behind her. “Of the movie,” she clarified. She shifted her hips again, and she let her thumb caress the head of his length for a moment.
“This is not... the best part,” Satoru responded. “We haven’t reached the climax yet.”
Yura’s grin widened. “No, but we can’t just skip there,” she said, paired with another roll of her hips, the feeling of his member dragging against her folds way too good for her to stop. “Gotta go through the rest of the movie first.”
Yura let her thighs fall open some more, spreading her legs further on his lap. Maybe it was time to move on to the ‘next scene’, she thought, amused, and she finally shifted on his lap, folding her legs back as she essentially knelt down outside of his thighs. She still kept him pressed against her folds throughout, unwilling to break the connection, but once she was in the right position with her knees on either side of him, she finally shifted enough to let the head notch against her entrance, and she slowly sank down on him.
Satoru let out a long, shuddering breath as she took him in, and Yura herself did the same. Her hands came to rest on his thighs for support, the feeling of her walls being stretched open as she pushed him into her completely frying her brain for a moment, but not enough for her to stop. Quite the opposite; she continued sinking down until he was all the way inside, her hips meeting his and she let her weight drop onto his lap, taking a moment to just... enjoy the feeling.
“...Okay,” she eventually breathed out, opening her eyes back up. “Let’s watch the movie.”
Satoru let out a confused ‘hm?’ as Yura bit back a grin again, keeping her hips still. Her eyes were glued to the screen, and once Satoru realized she was not going to move, he whined again. “Yuraa—”
His hands started creeping up from her hips, and she had to knock them away from her. “It’s movie night,” she said, and even if she couldn’t see his face, she could tell he was pouting. His hands tried returning to her body, but she once again slapped them away. “Behave. Let me watch the damn thing.”
She wasn’t really watching the damn thing. Her eyes were glued to the screen, yes, but Yura had no idea what was going on anymore. Something something the main character needed to find a date, but that seemed almost irrelevant—not when she could feel Satoru hot and heavy inside of her, feeling him stretch her open on the inside. Satoru dropped his hands to the couch cushions once he realized she wasn’t going to let him touch, and he eventually let his body fall back against the couch as he seemingly decided to just roll with it.
“Is the movie really that good?” he asked, almost like making conversation. But to be honest, Yura had gotten a little distracted—when Satoru had moved, she’d felt him shift inside of her, and she bit her lip at the feeling.
“...Sure,” she replied. The fact that she was sitting directly on him made the feeling of him even better, seemingly increasing all the pressure there inside of her. Of course, sitting still for too long made her get too used to it, so Yura shifted her hips just a bit, just so she could feel him moving inside of her and she bit her lip some more.
“I was the one who picked it,” Satoru commented. Yura suddenly felt him start caressing the curve of her ass ever so slightly, brushing the skin there up and down until it reached where she was pressed against him. “I do have good taste.”
Yura hummed out a vague response, still trying to pay attention to the screen. But it was too distracting, feeling him slotted snugly inside of her; she thought she could feel something throbbing down there, but at this point, she couldn’t be sure whether that was him or her anymore.
Maybe both.
The main character on the TV was asking her best friend for advice, who seemed to be trying to talk some sense into her. Or at least that’s what Yura guessed, because her mind was elsewhere entirely—the feeling of him was almost too much, and even after all this time of them sleeping together, she was often taken aback by how deep Satoru could go.
One of her hands left his thigh, coming up to rest on her lower stomach instead. Her fingers splayed open on her own skin, slipping under her sweater as she absentmindedly caressed herself there. She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination or not, but there were times that when she pressed down on her stomach like that, she thought she could almost feel him inside that way. Well, she could definitely feel him inside in another way, and she let her hips shift just the slightest bit again just so she could feel him sliding against her walls once more.
...This was actually really nice, she thought. What a fun movie night.
The main character in the movie seemed to have finally gotten somewhere with the male lead, and they were moving in for their first kiss. But before their lips could make contact, someone interrupted them, and then Yura suddenly jumped when Satoru decided to brush a finger over the sole of her foot—her walls immediately contracting around him at the tickling sensation.
“...Honestly,” Yura breathed out, though she was pretty sure Satoru had also let out a small gasp at the feeling. “You just won’t let me watch the movie in peace, will you?” she said, even as her lips were tugging upwards.
“What are you talking about,” Satoru said, and she could feel the sly tone in his voice even without seeing the accompanying grin. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Honestly,” Yura repeated, except that this time, she rolled her hips along with it. “Just let me watch the movie.”
Satoru, however, had nothing to complain about this time as Yura started moving her hips against his, pushing him in and out of her. In fact, she was sure she felt him fall back down against the cushions with a long sigh, his hands coming up to hold on to her calves as her hips rolled on top of him.
Yura set out at a quick pace, her hips moving with purpose. Her eyes also never left the screen, even if it was all a blur at this point—the feeling of him dragging along her walls was too good for her to pay attention to anything else. She adjusted the angle and quickened her pace, feeling Satoru’s fingers tighten against her skin as she heard his breathing pick up behind her, and it only encouraged her further.
Yura was completely focused on her own movements, her hands holding on to his thighs for support as her hips never stopped rolling on top of him. She did eventually change the angle again, her hips starting to move back and forth now, and that’s when she felt Satoru’s hand leave her calf to come up to her hip. She felt his upper body lift off the couch behind her, shifting closer to let his hand trail to her front—and she slapped it away.
“I’m busy,” she chided, still trying to bite back her own sly grin. “This movie is really good.”
“...Yeah?” Satoru breathed out, seeming confused again for a second.
“Hm-hm,” Yura nodded, returning her hands to his thighs, using them as leverage... but also caressing his thighs a bit. “You’re the one... otherwise distracted.”
Satoru let out a shaky breath, his torso dropping back to the couch. “I’m very distracted. Getting... more distracted by the second.”
She did allow herself to grin this time. “Then just be done with it... and get back to the movie.” Her pace increased.
Satoru’s hands gripped her calves again, breathing out her name. It wouldn’t be long now, she figured, letting her inner muscles contract around him; his fingers tightened on her skin at the feeling and she did it again.
Yura couldn’t help but glance behind her now, catching Satoru with his head thrown back against the cushions and his chest heaving up and down, almost in synch with her own movements. He seemed to be really into it, she thought, smiling, as she turned her head back to the front. She let her inner muscles squeeze him again, increasing her pace, and it didn’t take long for him to finally snap—his hips pushed up into hers, and she finally felt him start releasing himself deep inside of her with a long, drawn-out groan.
As Yura felt the warmth inside of her increasing, she let her hips slow down even as she squeezed him with her inner muscles once more, urging on his release. She closed her eyes this time, enjoying the feeling, letting her hips come to a halt by sinking back down on him completely and staying there.
As Satoru panted behind her, Yura let herself catch her own breath even if her body was still tense from the lack of release. This felt good, though, and she was enjoying it as part of the experience—the way she could still feel him inside, the way he made her feel full. And suddenly, one of her hands ended up returning to her lower stomach, pressing down gently, the thought of heirs and babies suddenly passing through her mind and Yura tried not to think about how those intrusive thoughts weren’t quite as unwelcome as they used to be. Feeling Satoru’s release inside of her was making her stomach do strange, but not unpleasant, flip flops—was this some sort of weird kink she had suddenly developed? She would definitely have to blame Satoru for this one. There would be no Gojo babies any time soon with her IUD in place, but the thought of them...
Maybe one day, echoed around in her mind, and Yura didn’t chase it away. Instead, she let her palm warm up her stomach, just as she could still feel Satoru warming up her insides.
...and he was definitely still warm and hard inside of her. So much stamina, she mentally laughed; he was showing no signs of softening anytime soon.
Yura’s lips tugged up.
Round two, then?
“...You still watching that movie?” Satoru eventually spoke up, still a little breathless.
“Yep,” she answered. But she let the hand on her stomach trail down, slipping between her legs until she reached the spot where their bodies were joined. Yura let her fingers brush against the base of his length, even if there wasn’t much space for it as she had sunk down on him completely. She teased both him and her there with gentle touches, and she couldn’t tell whether the stickiness she was feeling was from her or him or both.
One thing that did occur to her, though, was the fact that, hold on, there was a bit of him left that she could still take in, right? Her fingers rubbed against it and then against her folds wrapped around him, feeling his fingers tightening on her calves again. So Yura shifted her hips back, adjusting the angle and pushing down, and yeah—just a little bit deeper.
She stayed like that for a while longer, enjoying how it felt. It was almost like she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began—they were completely joined as one like this. She would have never imagined this feeling could be so intoxicating, a sudden wish for them to stay there forever passing through her—if only her body hadn’t started craving more.
The characters on the screen seemed to be finally hooking up, a modestly filmed sex scene starting up that couldn’t compare to what was going on outside of the TV. Satoru’s hands found her buttocks again, but instead of caressing them, he began squeezing them in his hold, playing with the flesh there. Yura briefly wondered if he was enjoying the sight back there, but her brain was suddenly emptied when she started shifting her hips slightly, enjoying the way Satoru was prodding at the deepest parts of her. Just lightly shifting her hips on top of him, pressing down to feel the pressure of him inside, but her movements eventually started to increase bit by bit. She began raising her hips and sinking back down, feeling him drag in and out of her and then in again—and this time, she was focusing on herself.
Yura’s hips kept moving up and down, making sure to adjust the angle so she could take him in as deep as she could with every thrust. Her movements couldn’t be too fast if she wanted to keep sinking in all the way, so she made up for it in intensity. She was almost bouncing on his lap, her hands gripping his thighs again as she adjusted her hips to push him in harder, stimulating something deep inside of her every time. And all the while, Satoru did nothing but let her do as she pleased, his hands cupping her ass almost like he was holding it up for her.
The movie in front of them was long forgotten as Yura let her head fall down, too immersed in the way her walls were being forced open every time she pushed him in. She could definitely feel something leaking out from where they were joined, her mind briefly registering it as his previous release—while the other part of her mind was saying more.
“Yura,” he breathed out her name, his hands sliding down from her behind until they were gripping her calves again. Yeah, she wanted more—more of him, more of this, just... more. So one of her hands eventually left his thigh, pressing down on her stomach again (was she really feeling him there or...?), and slowly, she slipped it down between her legs. As she started rubbing herself, her desperation only increased, her movements becoming erratic as she gripped his thigh harder. Her legs tensed and relaxed and tensed again, and she could feel Satoru’s legs doing the same under her. Come on, now, she thought to herself. A little more—
And it finally hit her, her hips roughly sinking down completely as her walls clamped around him, squeezing him, as her orgasm crashed over her. Satoru seemed to join her right after, his hips thrusting himself even deeper as she felt his warmth filling her up again.
Yura stayed still, letting the waves of pleasure wash over her. Her walls were spasming around him and she suddenly felt full again—not even realizing her hand had moved up from between her legs to rest on her stomach once more.
...Ah, shit. Definitely a new kink.
She could feel Satoru’s heavy breathing behind her as they both struggled to catch their breaths. His tight grip on her calves eventually loosened, and he was the one to finally break the silence.
“That’s... one hell of a movie,” Satoru spoke up, still breathless.
Yura laughed.
Once her eyes were unscrewed shut, her gaze eventually landed on the TV again. The movie was still playing.
With a long exhale, Yura let her torso fall back against him, feeling his chest heaving against her back in synch with hers. He sadly ended up slipping out of her with the movement, but his arms eventually came to circle her body, holding her close.
She sighed. Her hands came up to rest on top of his, her eyes landing on the TV screen again. The movie seemed to be close to its end, the main characters trying to resolve a misunderstanding between the two, but Yura was too busy feeling Satoru’s release slipping out of her to pay attention to the screen.
(...His couch was leather, it should be fine...)
“You know,” Satoru started, pressing his lips to the side of her head. “We could put on another movie after this...”
Yura laughed again, awkwardly unfurling her legs from under her and stretching them out. “We could,” she agreed.
She felt Satoru grinning against her cheek. “We could even go watch a movie in the bedroom, and then in the bathroom—”
“You don’t have a TV in the bathroom,” she reminded him.
Satoru huffed out a laugh. “We can get creative.”
Yura laughed with him; that they could...
28 notes · View notes
rafyki · 27 days
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Finished reread SoN and my immediate reaction is that I need to write some future percico smut
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rhainontheshelves · 11 months
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Remember, Recover
Member: Bang Chan {Stray Kids} and afab!reader
Genre: Fluff, Angst, light smut description
Word Count: 4238
A/N: This is the complete version of a fic I posted back in 2019! Rip It finally passed my writer's uncertainty test so out it goes. Happy reading!- Rhin
     “... How long are you going to stay on my lap?”
     “However long it takes to finish this melody. Deal with it.” I said, plunking out a string of notes on the keyboard. Figuring out a concrete sheet of music was difficult when all I had was some sound clips Chan had come up with years ago. But, nevertheless, I managed to connect them and came up with a pretty good composition. I saved the file with a little “Yay!” and leaned back. 
     Chan groaned as my weight shifted further back on his legs. “Damn (Y/N), how many cheeseburgers did you eat today?”
     “Not as many as you. How many did you order, four?” I smirked.
     “It was only three, excuse me! And they were singles, you can’t blame me for cheating the system and getting three singles for less than a triple.”
     “Only because we’re broke and ordering off the dollar menu,” I said, twisting around to face him, “and two medium fries! Who are you, an unhealthy version of Gaston?”
     “Hey, don’t compare me to that jerk!” Chan tried hard to keep a straight offended face. “And I’m very healthy, thank you very much.”
     A couple moments of silence was enough to break my mask and burst out laughing. Chan’s face was too good not to. He chuckled along with me and stroked my hair as I leaned into his chest, trying to pull myself together. 
     “Wow, I’m tired,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “What time is it?”
     Chan glanced over to the computer. “Midnight on the dot.”
     “We have officially spent five hours in this dumb room.” I got up and grabbed a Pepsi from the minifridge. “Want one?”
     All Chan had to do was hold a hand out for me to toss one to him. Together, we unscrewed the lids and took huge swigs. We were in for a long night, so we needed all the energy we could get. 
     “Let’s take a break.” Chan said, rolling over to the couch and propping his feet up. “My brain is tired from trying to pull feelings and experiences from years ago up for lyrics.”
     I flopped on the couch, thinking of a way I could help out. To be honest, I hadn’t done anything of that nature since I graduated, and that was just about a year ago. The memory was pretty hazy (it was a black-out type of night), so that wouldn’t help out a lot.
     “(Y/N), do you trust me?” Chan asked out of the blue. 
     “What is that supposed to mean?”
     “Well, if this song is truly about sex, wouldn’t we need some moans in the background or something? The good ol’ bed creaks are getting a bit overused in this industry.”
     It took me a minute to process what Chan meant. “Wait… you want me to-”
     “No! Not if you don’t want to,” Chan’s cheeks turned red, “we can always pull audio from porn or something!”
     I looked at my best friend, sighed, and shook my head. “You’re lucky we need to get this track done by tomorrow afternoon,” I got up, turned off the lights, and went into the booth. 
     “Why did you-”
     “So I can still have some dignity by the end of the night,” I said into the microphone. “Can we just get a series and cut it into the song? It’s too tedious to do stuff at exact moments.”
     “That’s fine by me.” Chan affirmed. “Just say so when you’re done.”
     I awkwardly stood in the booth for a bit, trying to figure out the logistics of this. The microphone that was hooked up wasn’t omnidirectional, so getting into the right position for the audio to be captured was a big problem. Also the fact that Chan was here made me extremely nervous. I didn’t know why; we could usually talk for hours about this stuff. Maybe it was because it was for real instead of the usual imaginary scenarios. 
     Pulling up a chair, I sat down in it and carefully reached out toward the mic stand. I found the knob that adjusted the height and brought it down to its lowest position. Then, making myself as comfortable as I could be, I unbuttoned my jeans and slid a hand down. 
     “Any time now, (Y/N).” Chan’s voice boomed. The sudden fracture in the silence scared me and made me lose my start. 
     “Damn it Chan, I was just getting warmed up,” I muttered. “Just starting to get focused.”
     “Oh, sorry.” His voice sounded tiny over the speaker system. 
     “You’re good, just don’t do that again, okay?”
     “Got it.” With that, the static of an open line cut off, leaving me back at square one. 
     I sat there for a bit, trying to bring up a picture in my head that I could jack off to. Nothing in particular was coming to mind, except feeling something hard as I sat on Chan’s lap just a couple minutes ago. I zoned in on that feeling, and started to find something I could associate it with… and then my brain betrayed me. 
     “Hey Chan… do you remember that party we went to a couple years back? You needed to blow off some steam from being cooped up with the guys too long and I needed some relief from college?”
     Static started buzzing again. “Yeah, I remember that. It was a fun night.”
     “I don’t know any other way to say this, but… I can’t get this image of you out of my head… I think we did something that night.”
     “I wouldn’t be surprised if we did. We were pretty drunk.”
     “No, you don’t understand. All I can remember after the sixth shot of whiskey is undoing someone’s belt while they marked me up. Their shirt was red, like that one button-up you have that I like so much.”
     “Oh… that… yeah, that was me.”
     “You remember?” Honestly, I was shocked. I was certain that Chan got even drunker than I did.
     “Yeah, every second. I wasn’t as drunk as you then.”
     “Well, tell me about it then, since I obviously don’t remember.”
     “Um, okay.” There was some hesitation there. I knew Chan well enough to know that this was important to him for some reason; he would have told me about it sooner if it wasn’t.
     “Hey, it’s okay Chan.” I soothed him. “It won’t mess up our friendship.”
     “Are you sure?” his voice was shaky. 
     “I’m absolutely positive.”
     “Well, it started when you pulled me away from the dance floor. Apparently I was grinding on some girl you didn’t like. I could tell you were getting faded, so I didn’t take it too seriously. As you were ranting about it, you started to say peculiar things. Like, “you have no right to look that fine” and “if you had another button undone and your sleeves already rolled up when you picked me up we would have never left the house”, things like that. Obviously I had turned you on and drunk (Y/N) gets really bold and horny. I don’t really remember what you said next, but I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you.”
     I was starting to remember, recalling the atmosphere and how Chan looked that night. That was one of the top times where I just wanted to hop on his dick and ride the night away. I wasn’t proud of it, but it happened. 
     “You backed me up against a wall and started unbuttoning my shirt. I realized where we were going at that point and quickly picked you up and headed towards the nearest room so we could have some privacy. Luckily it was a bedroom and the door was able to be locked. You started working on my belt and I gave you two hickeys on your shoulder. Once that belt was gone, you started undressing and I lost it. Lust just burned through me and you seemed pleased that you brought it on.”
     Chan was slightly caught off guard as whimpers came through the other end of the mic. (Y/N) must be remembering and getting off on that. He couldn’t deny that his mind was roaming back to then as well. 
     “Chan, don’t stop talking. I want to remember everything.” (Y/N) whined.
     Chan could feel the lust creeping up again. It made him cocky; it made him want to hear what (Y/N) had to offer. “Everything?”
     “Everything.”
     “I picked you up and threw you on the bed, trapping you under my body. You pulled me down for another kiss, but I was already there. As we made out, my hands traveled around, We pulled apart for air and I swear you looked like an angel, all out on display for me. You begged for me to do something, anything… so I got on my knees and pulled you forward until I could devour you properly.”
     Chan described the rest of the encounter in graphic detail, and that was more than enough to help me out. By the end of it, I had cummed twice and moaned up a storm. I was confident that I had recorded good material. 
     “Alright, that’s a wrap.” I stated as I buttoned up my jeans. 
     Chan didn’t answer. 
     “Chan?” I called as I exited the room. 
     He wasn’t at the soundboard. The door was wide open though. 
     “Chris?” I called again, sticking my head out of the door.
     No one was there to hear me. 
     Concerned, I picked my phone off of the coffee table and there was a notification for a text - from Chan. 
     Went out to grab some food. I’ll be back soon
     I ended up spending the rest of the night in the studio- without Chan. I cut the audio and put it into the backtrack as best I could. I told myself that he would come back and rearrange it the way he wanted it to be, but around 4:30 AM I started to doubt that. I recorded my parts that were marked on the lyric sheet, but soon I was so exhausted that my voice didn’t sound like mine anymore. The smell I left behind made me so nauseous that I sprayed what seemed like half a can of air freshener all around the studio before crashing on the couch. 
     “... (Y/N)! (Y/N), wake up!” A voice called as they shook my shoulder. 
     “Huh?” My eyes finally registered the light and I put my arm over them. “What time is it?”
     “It is currently 9:30. Where’d Chan go?”
     With that comment, my eyes flew open and I got a good look at who awakened me. It was Jisung, another one of the Stray Kids members I had gotten close with. If Jisung was here… then Chan never came back.
     “He left.” I said bluntly as I sat up and rubbed the sleepiness out of my eyes. 
     “What?” 
     “He left. He went to get food and never came back.”
     “Shit.” Jisung breathed. He whipped out his phone and called someone, presumably another member. “Hey Changbin, did Chan ever come back last night? No? Well, (Y/N) doesn’t know where he is either. Yep- yeah. I will. See ya.” With that, he hung up and ran his fingers through his hair. 
     “He’ll turn up.” I tried to comfort him. “At least you all don’t have anywhere to be today.”
     “I guess.” Jisung sounded really bummed and concerned. “He never does this, not without contacting one of us first.”
     I let Jisung think for a minute before standing up and stretching. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to run home and shower and change. Being in here for 11 hours isn’t too good on the hygiene.”
     “When will you get back?”
     “About 30, 45 minutes? Somewhere around there.”
     “Good, because I still need to think about whether I should help you finish this track or not. Judging by those lyrics…” he nodded toward the sheet of paper and grinned, “I don’t think I should be.”
     I turned a dark shade of red before darting out the door. I was too embarrassed about last night to stay in the studio one second longer. God forbid I was there when Jisung listened to what I had so far. I mean, I trusted him, but having him hear bare audio of me moaning was pushing the bar a little bit more than a lot. When effects and vocals and the other layers of the backing was put on over it, I wouldn’t have a problem with people listening, but in the raw form it was in now, it was too intimate.
     As I walked back to my apartment, I mulled over why Chan had left. I wanted to believe that it was for some normal reason, like he was feeling too uncomfortable to stay or he actually went to grab food, but something had distracted him. Maybe he was sleeping at the dorms and nobody had noticed yet, or he was back at my place sleeping. Maybe it was nothing to worry about and he would be back and fixing all of my mistakes when I got back to the studio. But, deep in my heart, I knew it was way more complicated than that. 
     The project was put on hold indefinitely until Chan could be found. I looked everywhere with the rest of Stray Kids, checking his most frequented places and even calling one of his relatives that lived in the area. Any place I recalled him liking, I went and searched every nook and cranny.  
     “Yeah, no luck on my end either,” I told Minho on the phone. “He’s dropped off the face of the planet.”
     “Damn! He couldn’t have gone far.” Minho growled. 
     “We should probably stop looking for him.” Jeongin’s voice came through. “It’s Chan. He’s not stupid. He’ll be back before we know it.” 
     I sighed, not wanting to admit that the youngest was right. “I’m still worried about him.”
     “Worrying won’t do us any good at this point. I agree with Jeongin.”
     “Okay. Make sure the others know. I’ll give you any updates if I have any.” With that, I was left alone with my thoughts.
     I wandered around the part of town I had ended up in. Ever since my brain had fully woken up, I had been replaying last night over and over, trying to pick out the point where Chan had dropped out. The frustrating part was, I had absolutely no clue. I had gotten so lost in myself that I had blocked Chan out. Now that we couldn’t find him, I felt extremely guilty. I found a bench to sit on and wait through the wave of fresh emotions. How could I have been so insensitive to his feelings about the situation? I should have sensed them sooner. 
     A cold drop of liquid on the back of my neck brought me into reality again. I watched the pavement turn darker as it started to sprinkle. Watching the rain... wait. 
     I was reminded of a very obscure memory. Chan and I had only known each other for a couple months. We had to meet up to finish a group project for school, and if I remembered right, we had met up in the park behind me. We were a paragraph out from finishing when it started to rain just like this. In a rush to protect our work, Chan pulled me to the cafe across the street. Had he? I couldn’t clearly recall. 
     Shielding my face from the rain, I wandered across the street, looking for a cafe. The other businesses looked so dry and inviting, but I couldn’t stop until I found what I was looking for. 
     Finally, I found a cafe a few blocks over from where I thought it was. By this point I was absolutely soaked, but I didn’t care. The thought of finally finding Chan was giving me a small adrenaline rush. 
     A little tinkling bell greeted me as I walked into the warm cafe. The smell of fresh pastries and coffee made my stomach growl. I had been so preoccupied with the search that I hadn’t eaten all day. 
      “Hello!” A kind voice called from the counter. 
      “Hello!” I responded. Walking up, I started scanning the menu. Now that we had called the search off, it wouldn’t hurt to take a break, right?
     “It’s certainly coming down out there, isn’t it?” the barista asked with a hint of amusement in her voice. 
     “Yes, ma’am. I must be a sight for sore eyes.”
     “You do look a little frazzled. Not the worst I’ve seen these past couple of days, though.”
     “Oh, really?”
     “Yeah. A guy came in late last night totally drunk. My manager took pity on him and got him a hotel room.”
     My breath hitched. “Did he happen to have curly brown hair? A little taller than me, muscular?”
     The barista raised an eyebrow. “Do you know him?”
     “I’m looking for him, actually. If you could tell me which hotel he’s at, I would really appreciate it.”
     “Lemme call my manager real quick.” the barista disappeared into the kitchen for a couple of minutes, then returned with a piece of paper. “Here’s the address and room number. The room’s paid for, so don’t worry about that.” 
     I took the paper from her. “Thank you so much! We’ve been worried about him.”
     “I’m glad someone cares. He was rambling on about letting someone important down. It was really sad.”
     That really concerned me. I had never known Chan to be a talkative or a sad drunk, nevermind the fact that he was drunk in the first place. Whatever he was battling, he really wanted to get away from it. “I would like to order some food and coffee to go. I imagine he’ll be hungry, and to be honest I am as well.”
     The barista’s eyes lit up. “Sure! What would you like?”
     Twenty five minutes later, I approached a local hotel with warm soup and coffee. The rain had stopped, but dark clouds still hung in the sky. It struck me just how late it had become; my phone informed me that it was nearing a quarter past five. The sun would go down soon. 
     The desk attendant looked up at me expectantly as I entered. “Hi, I’m here to visit the person in room 24?” 
     “Okay. You can go on up.” they went back to writing in the notebook they had.
     The layout of this small hotel was confusing, but eventually I found my way up to the second floor and found room 24. I cautiously knocked on the door, listening for any kind of response from the other side. Hearing nothing, I knocked again and said, “I brought some food for you.”
     A faint voice called back, “The door’s unlocked.”
     I sighed in relief, thankful that my best friend was alive and talking. Hauling the food into one arm for a moment, I turned the knob and poked my head into the room.
     It was a cozy little suite. One queen-sized bed, with the typical white duvet. An armchair in vaguely matching upholstery was placed near the window, alongside a circular coffee table. A door suggested either an attached bathroom or a closet. However, the main feature of the room was in bed, looking very sleepy and surprised to see me at his door. 
     “Hey Chris. I have soup and coffee, if you have the stomach for it. I don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve eaten…” I entered and placed the food on the coffee table. 
     The man’s expression was hard to read. There was confusion, like he was wondering how I found him, but there was also apprehension and guilt. The way he curled into himself as I sat next to him on the bed didn’t escape my attention. “Me and the boys looked all day for you. I’m so glad you’re safe.”
     Chan fiddled with his hands, avoiding eye contact.
     “Listen… I’m sorry about last night. It was selfish of me. I understand if we just don’t talk about it again.” 
     Chan’s silence was making me increasingly anxious. Normally, I would have thrown myself at him by now, begging for forgiveness or even a glance in my direction. But this was serious. The possibility of this ruining our friendship was suffocating me to the point of mirroring Chan’s attitude. “If you want me to leave, I can. This must have been emotional for you, I don’t want to make it worse.”
     At that, Chan reached his hand out, placing it in the space between us. LIke he didn’t want me to leave. Like he was telling me to stay. 
     I placed my hand over his, slowly curling my fingers until I was holding his hand. I didn’t dare ask any questions; he needed to work through this for himself. He would talk when he was ready. To distract myself, I looked out the window and watched the sunset through the buildings. 
     Chan buried his face in the crook of my neck. I could feel the remnants of tears on his cheeks and smell the day-old beer on his breath. My free hand slowly came up to run through his unkempt, curly locks in attempts to comfort him. If all he needed was to sit here for the rest of eternity, I would surely do it. 
     “I got hammered after.” Chan said low and rough and soft, like he hadn’t spoken for days and cried instead. 
     “...after?”
     “After we fucked at the party. I don’t know why it suddenly crashed over me, but I couldn’t deal with the fact that I felt like I betrayed and used you. I remember downing three of the highest concentrated beers they had in a row before passing out on the couch.”
     That explained why Chan was so much more hungover than I was. It also explained why he had distanced himself from me- then and now. In the days afterward, I had felt so confused and angry at myself because Chan avoided me at all costs. He wouldn’t answer my texts, he wouldn’t even look at me whenever we bumped into each other. I had to call Changbin to find out an inkling of the reason and proceeded to send a huge apology letter to Chan. Of course, Chan being Chan, he said “No, I should be the one apologizing.” and went back to being my best friend. Now, I realized that I made Chan go through that all over again and I felt extremely guilty. 
     “Chan, I’m so sorry for doing that to you. I was drunk and stupid and-”
     “You were just voicing something you had kept for a long time.” Chan’s soft voice brought my excitement down again. “I used you to satisfy my own needs.”
     “No!” I shook my head vigorously. “No, that’s not it. I know you, Chan. If there wasn’t a desire there, you would have carried me out of there and dropped me at home. There’s something else. Chan, do you- do you like me?”
     There. I had said it. The one question that had been on both of our minds pretty much since the time we met. There were green flags everywhere, and we were forcing ourselves to be oblivious to them out of fear. Our friends would constantly point them out, but we were scared that we would lose each other if we asked. That line we so clearly drew, and I just crossed it. 
     His answer was so quiet, I almost missed it. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
    “Good, because I like you too.”
     The relief that washed over Chan’s face was so freeing. He looked me in the eyes for the first time in what seemed like forever, and his eyes were shining brighter than the moon. Even as I leaned in to kiss him, a huge burden was lifted off my shoulders. 
     His lips were a bit chapped, but that was fine with me. Each kiss held a gentleness and a purpose that overrode any uncomfortable feelings. Chan latched his strong arms around me, pulling me closer to him. I smiled and brought my hand up to guide our motions in order to adjust to the closer proximity, but he grabbed my hand and brought it back down, intertwining our fingers. 
     When we stopped to catch our breaths, I was grinning from ear to ear, glad that this conflict was finally over. Glad that we could be happy again. 
Epilogue
     “Are you ever going to finish this, hyung? Didn’t you make a deal with the company over it?” Jisung picked up a piece of paper from off of the table where Chan had dumped out his lyrics portfolio. Half of them weren’t finished, but that was the best place to start when it was time to start working on a new album. 
     Chan furrowed his eyebrows. “Finish what?” 
     “The song you were pulling an all-nighter to make with (Y/N) a couple months ago.”     Realization dawned on Chan, making him sink into his chair. They never finished the fucking song. 
     “I gotta say, you were on some shit when you started writing this-”
     Chan snatched the paper out of the rapper’s hand. “It’s none of your business,” he muttered, turning back to his laptop to hide his embarrassment.
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lothcatthree · 28 days
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fire still burns in a vacuum
rated T
bode akuna/cal kestis, 1.6k Grief/Mourning, Character Study, Relationship Study, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Author Welcomes All Interpretations, This Is a Study On Cal's Grief With a Twist at the End, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Dark Themes
A Jedi searching this new place for meaning, but the closest he’s ever gotten is a brush of his fingers against its hull as he blindly scrambles for purchase. Gravity is just as unforgiving as the sharp edges of the outcropping. All this time blurring past him and yet, Cal can’t seem to stop living in the past.
just a little thing I did for the jedi survivor anniversary event!
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thatsuccubabe · 4 months
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In my soft romance era
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stephantom · 13 days
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Becket (1964)
- But what will God say if I attack his church? After all, they're His bishops.
- We must manage the church.
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desertfangs · 7 months
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The Prime Minister's Assistant Marius/Daniel - Explicit - 4224 words
This is something I started writing an eternity ago and then I got distracted with other projects and forgot about it. But I've been thinking a lot about Court lately and also how sexy Marius is in a suit (and a position of authority) and so I decided to finish this.
It's Court Shenanigans at their finest. Armand leaves to spend a few weeks in Paris with Louis, so Daniel is going to spend that time helping Marius out around Court. It doesn't take long for work to turn into... more fun activities.
Very short excerpt:
Daniel arrived at Marius’ office, a large room lined with heavy wooden shelves, and a red velvet chaise against the wall near the door. Marius’ desk was in the center and the surface was immaculate and clear of anything but the single file he had open in front of him and a small pile in a basket on the far corner. 
Marius sat behind the desk. Daniel looked him over appreciatively, a little heat creeping into his cheeks as he did. Marius was wearing an expertly tailored gray suit, his long blond hair cascading down around his face. He had angular, sharp features and a strong jaw. He was always handsome as hell but the suit was doing good things for him. It was almost sinful how good. It showed off his shoulders and the color was good on him. 
“Nice suit,” Daniel said. 
Marius looked down automatically and then back up. “Thank you. It was made by a tailor Armand recommended.”  
“You know, it would look even better being torn off of you.” Daniel waggled his eyebrows in a joking manner but if Marius wanted, he was more than happy to close the door and make a mess of this pristine office. 
“Very funny.” Marius frowned, but Daniel caught a spark of something in his eyes. “You look quite dashing yourself. Did Armand pick your tie? It brings out your eyes.” 
“Yeah,” Daniel said, not bothering to mention that Armand had picked the whole outfit. He dropped into one of the chairs in front of Marius’ desk. “So, what do you need me to do, Mr. Prime Minister?” 
Marius got up. Daniel admired the way the suit moved on him as he pulled down a binder from a shelf and handed it to him. “These are the newest arrivals at Court. We need to get them identification documents which can be set up in the records office.”
“There’s a records office?” Daniel whistled. “You really have thought of everything.”
[Read on AO3]
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