#Day by day by day by day by day by day - by Nights

[sexylittleslutsls]

When the day is done at work and you’re finally home .. pour a glass or two of a good liquor .. cheers …. 🥃🥃

[kitimeq]

✿‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ say yes to heaven 🤍 sylus 秦 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ✿

pairing ✿‧₊˚: lads sylus x reader

summary ✿‧₊˚: 3+1: three times Sylus suppresses his desire to have you, and one time his control finally snaps. sprinkled with relationship fluff, size difference, love confessions and whole lot of overthinking from our fav crow boy.

word count ✿‧₊˚: 13.6k (a whole ass freaking novella, grab a snack.)

tropes ✿‧₊˚: 18+, 3+1, smut, but packed with feelings, fluff, est. relationship, body worship, plot with porn??, love confessions, sylus is obsessed, and so in love, first times implied, p in v, size difference, (by size difference i mean sylus is freaking huge, like a mountain of a man, so big it actually makes him nervous bc u so small, every single one of us would be a small dot next to him that’s my personal headcanon, have you seen his ib memory? yeah, yeah u have this man HUGE), anyways what is protection they don’t use it don’t be like them, needy sylus, pet names, everything is consensual, awooo.

author’s note ✿‧₊˚: hello! i was cooking this one for so much time, i hope it’s not too boring! I’m not a native speaker so i apologize in advance for all mistakes or repetitions. I was also trying to write inclusive y/n and i hope i succeeded. I also did not imagine y/n to have a specific body type — i truly believe that no matter your size, next to sylus you would look like a crumb. as small as a pebble. believe me, i’ve studied the sacred texts (night of secrecy, grassland romance, innocent birdcage do i really have to keep on listing the memories where he enormous u get the gist). so!! i hope you’ll enjoy it ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

!!do NOT read if you’re not 18+!!

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ ݁

Sylus usually considered himself to be a patient man.

He occasionally did act on his desires—he could admit that much—but when it came to the things he truly cared about, the things he treasured, he didn’t mind the wait. He knew that the best things in life came at a price, and if the currency was time, in this case he was willing to pay in full. He knew it was worth it. That you were worth it.

You, who accepted him as he was, with all his flaws and imperfections, making his life better every day you were together. You, who were so brave, gentle, and kind that you made him want to become a better man too—just so that one day, he could say he truly deserved you. You, who he had completely fallen for, unable to imagine a world in which he wouldn’t make the same choice of courting you all over again.

That’s why he wanted nothing more than to treasure and respect you in every aspect of life—including intimacy and his own desires. And to be perfectly candid, he had plenty of those from the very moment he laid eyes on you. But he wanted to act like a gentleman, never rushing you into anything. He was patient, waiting for you to make the first move. He wanted to be sure you trusted him, that you weren’t afraid of him—or of the things he wanted to do to you if he ever got the chance.

And even after several months of officially dating you, he still stuck to his resolve, despite the unhealthy hunger growing inside him. He was adamant that you make the first move, even though the waiting was slowly killing him from the inside—his desires burning through his skin, desperate to see the light of your glossy eyes, to feel you squirming beneath him, and to hear your soft moans and whimpers, letting him know that you wanted him too.

He wanted you passionately. He didn’t desire anyone or anything else in his life. He had never thought of anyone else in such terms, which made the wait much more bearable, fun even. The occasional tension in the air only made things between you even more intriguing. Sylus wondered when the moment would come for you to finally let him explore you, taste you, just as he had wanted since the first time he held you in his arms.

He was a patient man. An inquisitive one, but patient nonetheless.

But it was just getting too much for him to handle lately.

He wondered if you were doing this on purpose. Were you trying to make him go feral with want, push him into some action? Maybe you were just too shy to ask for something more, and decided to coax him to take you right then and there? Was it an act? A part of your meticulous, sneaky plan?

He felt his sanity slowly dissipating.

“Sylus? Please, hurry up and help me, we have to go!” You turned your head to look at him, your lips puckered in an adorable pout, and your feet anxiously shifting from one to the other, the sound of your beautiful black heels clicking against the floor of your apartment. The red soles didn’t go unnoticed by him.

And what didn’t go unnoticed as well was how breathtakingly gorgeous you looked, dressed in your tight black gown that accentuated the figure he was obsessed with.

However, he was a strong man. He could look at you in a dress and not get an instant boner; he wasn’t some mere beast. But when you asked for his help, he realized that life hadn’t prepared him for everything you had up your sleeve.

Because right now, you stood before him, your back turned toward him, holding your hair in your hands and exposing a zipper that you wanted him to take care of. A zipper that ran from your neck down, down, down to your red lace panties, which peeked out from beneath the unzipped black material.

He turned his head upward at the sight, his hand reaching for the bridge of his nose, a silent prayer escaping his lips. If God existed, He was not merciful this time.

He could also clearly see that you weren’t wearing a bra, the soft skin of your back exposed, slightly hidden under the material of the dress. Hadn’t he suffered enough?

He wanted to bark. Badly.

Oh fuck, was he really going to bark?

He hoped not.

“Sy?” The nickname almost made his legs buckle. He needed a moment to calm himself after just one look at you, and it seemed to take him much longer than what would be considered natural. The impatience in your voice betrayed your desire not to be late for the opera performance, which he had promised to take you to today. He gulped audibly and realized that you had no idea what you were doing to him—and that scared him.

If you were this dangerous unintentionally, how will he survive when you’ll finally, consciously decide to take things further?

“Yes. Yes, of course, sweetie.” He managed to choke out and stepped closer to you, your delectable scent overwhelming his senses. He tried to hide the slight tremble in his hands as he reached for the zipper at the bottom of your dress. When he zipped you up, he took his sweet time caressing your body with his knuckles, basking in the soft feeling of your skin and the dangerous touch of the lace of your panties. He hoped you couldn’t hear his heartbeat—or see the pink in his cheeks. He couldn’t remember the last time he had blushed, but now he was sure of it, judging by the warmth on his face.

He was hopeless. Utterly ruined.

“There you go.” He said quietly, caressing your beautiful hair with his fingers, smoothing the creases which appeared after your hold. He brushed it from your neck and planted a slow kiss there, his movements far too composed for someone who was boiling with desire inside.

“Thank you. I couldn’t reach it at all and we’re already short on time.” You put your hand on his head, patting it gently and sighing when he touched your waist. He couldn’t help but squeeze you there, feeling the warmth of your skin through the soft material of your dress. You understood this gesture as teasing and giggled adorably.

“You look magnificent, my dove.” The compliment slipped through his lips, earning him your sweet smile and a kiss on a cheek. He watched as you passed him to grab your purse, going straight to the front door, leaving him behind. Trusting he’ll follow your step, as he always did.

Sylus closed his eyes and touched the very spot on his cheek where your lips had grazed, releasing a sigh that could be interpreted as both contentment and a silent prayer for endurance.

“You coming, Sy?” He could hear you calling for him, and he opened his eyes. His left one shone brightly at him from his reflection on the window. His Evol proved useless when his body already made it abundantly clear what—or whom—he desired the most.

“I fucking wish.” He whispered under his breath, turned around, and walked up to you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as he reveled in the weight of your body pressing against him. His ears were graced by your little squeal, that quickly transformed into uncontrollable laughter, a sound he wanted to record and play every time you were away.

You slapped his back playfully and joked about wanting to use your legs once in a while, and he laughed, saying that he just wanted to make sure that he had all he needed with him. Then, he grabbed his coat with his Evol, and used it to slam the door after you both went out. He hoped that the lust he felt, which started to get out of his control, managed to stay behind them.

He waited for so long; how hard could it be to wait for another couple of months?

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Hard.

Tremendously hard, both theoretically and physically, given the reaction of his body upon the contact.

He shifted slightly so that you wouldn’t feel his growing bulge against your core, his hands hovered over your thighs, his cheeks flaming hot. He was about to fucking pass out.

But you were none the wiser, sitting on his body, strangling him with your soft, mouth-watering thighs, practically rubbing yourself against him, and performing your little dance of victory after pushing him to the ground during your sparring.

Normally, he would have laughed with you and treasured your moment of happiness, his senses overwhelmed by pride as he watched you get better and better at self-defense with every practice.

But that was just cruel.

Not only did you showed up in that little piece of fabric covering your breasts, something you dared to call a sports bra, its thin straps reminiscent of a fish net, offering NO support whatsoever for your charms, but you also dared to wear that pair of leggings you claimed you had bought with your friend during your last trip to the mall.

And they were leaving nothing for his imagination, your every curve hugged tightly, every dip deliciously emphasized. And fuck, you looked gorgeous in wine red. You knew you did.

“I got it in your color! Do you like it?” You asked upon entering his gym, twirling for him like the most adorable fucking thing he had ever had the pleasure of seeing, your arms up and your hair still untied. He did saw red, and it wasn’t just the color of your clothing.

His color. His girl in his color, he was going absolutely feral.

“I do.” He choked out, and tried to avert his eyes from your posture but lost that battle quickly. “You look stunning. My little gem.” He answered and you dared to look at him sheepishly, your face showing the signs of getting flustered.

“I’m not just a gem anymore. I’m a professional fighter.” You playfully punched his shoulder, jumping around and mimicking boxing moves, making him laugh out loud as he grabbed your fists in his hands. He pulled you closer to him and kissed your forehead, his arms wrapong around your frame.

“Is that an apology in advance?” You asked him when his lips left your skin. He smirked, his brow raising.

“Might be. Today we’ll be practicing attacks and knocking down your opponent.”

“Me? Knocking you down?” You looked at him with disbelief, your hands dropping to your sides, already defeated. “I’m doomed. Sylus, can’t I knock down Luke or Kieran instead?” Your cute pout and hands clasped in a begging gesture made him laugh again, as he fixed the bandages on your hands.

“And you think they would be easier to conquer?”

“Yes. Obviously, yes.”

“But they wouldn’t make sure you’re not going to hurt yourself, kitten, and I already know your patterns…” He leaned over you, his hot breath caressing your ear, making you shiver. His hands avoided touching your body. “And weak spots…” A whisper and a gentle bite on your earlobe were enough to send your adrenaline soaring.

“You—!” You jumped from him, like a little kitten, your face flustered and gaze filled with playful threat. “You’re going down mister. You’re SO going dooown.”

And down he went.

Right under your soft body, squashed between your warm tights, looking up at your beautiful lips twisted in an adorable, cunning smirk.

Oh, the way he loved you. The way he wanted to have you. The intensity of that feeling started to suffocate him.

“Okay, you got me, sweetie.” He choked out and tried his best to sound as nonchalant as possible. But nothing about this situation was nonchalant—your soft tights squeezing his waist and your butt pressing on his weak spot almost made him see stars. He grabbed your waist to try to stop your body from moving and gritted his teeth, fighting with himself to not buckle his hips up. “Now, up. I admit defeat.”

Defeat that had to do with the improvement of your skills and the force of your little fists, yes, but also with the way Sylus was distracted by your body, his eyes wandering everywhere during the battle, but not the places he should actually pay attention to.

Apparently, he was a weak, weak man, when the situation concerned you. Weak and impossibly horny.

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I want to.” You answered, a mischievous glint adored your gaze. He drank that expression in.

Beautiful. You were absolutely beautiful, sitting on him, your body sparkling with sweat, face red from the exhaustion. How could he keep his mind from going places? “I think I like you like this.” His eyebrows went up, and cheeks felt a little bit too warm for his liking.

What were you trying to say?

“Yes? Like what, kitten?” His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. He knew that you could feel it, one of your hands rested on top of it, stroking his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin through his shirt. He shivered, his body covered in goosebumps, finding the gentle touch too intense, somehow.

“Towering over you.” His breath hitched, his heart almost stopped its beating. “It’s much easier to look at your face when I’m like this. It’s nice.” His heart squeezed instead, your confession turning out to be more touching than teasing, and he cursed himself internally for belittling your interactions and intimacy lately. His mind immediately assumed sexual undertones, where everything you were doing with him, at your own, unique pace should be more than enough for him.

“You like looking at me that much, huh?” He answered, his hand going up to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. He smiled with content, and he put his hand at the nape of your neck, hoping you’ll understand the implications.

You did. Not a second later you lowered your body so that you were lying on top of him, one of his hands holding you to himself by your waist, pressing you even closer together. He acknowledged how much he loved your full weight on his body, your hearts pressed so close to each other they started beating as one.

You put your hands on his cheeks, smiled down at him, and pressed a small kiss to one of his eyelids, and then to the tip of his nose. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling.

“Of course. You’re my beautiful boy, Sylus.” You whispered to him, a smile adoring your face and he couldn’t help himself. He pulled you close by your neck and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, almost whimpering into your mouth from the intensity of his feelings.

You reciprocated the kiss, not hesitating even for a second, and soon, both of your lips were swollen and glistening, your minds filled with sparkles and cotton.

You were the one to break the kiss, your mind going dizzy, body trembling from the arousal. He could feel it without using his Evol—the desire that raised within you, the fire that now flowed through your veins. His eyes sparkled with anticipation.

One moment and you’ll go pliant against him, melting into his embrace.

One second, and he’ll finally taste heaven, be as close to you as anyone ever has been.

“Y/N, will it be alright if I—” He started speaking, your eyes looking at him from above as you held onto his cheek and neck, caressing his skin with your thumbs, making him feel oh, so cherished. Yet, he didn’t manage to finish the request because a sudden crash from the door opening pierced through the silent room, popping your comfortable bubble in an instant.

You jumped out of his embrace, leaving him cold and yearning, his hands sliding over his face in frustration.

“Boss—”

“Luke, Kieran it better be fucking important.” Sylus hissed through his teeth, and the fact that he didn’t even try to hide his frustration made you huff out a laugh and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. You didn’t want to laugh at him so openly, hiding how adorable his anger towards boys seemed to you at that moment.

His eyes caught yours, lured by the bubbly sound, and one of the corners of his mouth went up slightly. He raised his hand to your covered mouth and brought your hand down with his fingers, revealing your smile.

“It is, Boss! The Girm Company chairman called and demanded a meeting in thirty minutes.” Luke said quickly, Kieran peeking out from behind his shoulder. “And he didn’t want to take “no” for an answer.” Kieran added, his body now revealed.

You were not sure if Sylus was even listening, his eyes glued to your face, his fingers tracing the line of your smile absentmindedly. He still didn’t raise from the floor of the ring, his posture relaxed, one arm now resting behind his head.

“That bastard.” He answered under his breath, and closed his eyes in annoyance for a second and when he opened them, they were once again glued to you. “If you don’t want me to leave just say a word.” He said, and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. The back of his hand started a slow caress of your cheek, and you felt embarrassed, knowing that the boys were still looking at you both, waiting for Sylus’s answer.

“It’s okay, Sy. I actually have some errands to run in Linkon so I better get going.” You answered, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his fingers. His breath hitched, eyes following the movement with a longing deep in his chest. “Besides, I’m tired of beating your ass today. Save some dignity for the next time.” You added with a mischievous look, poking his hard chest with your finger teasingly.

The laugh that came out of his chest was sudden—loud, deep, and so sincere that it warmed your chest, your lips spreading in a proud smile. He grabbed your hand off of his chest and brought it to his lips, kissing your fingertips. The mirth in his eyes clearly visible, the affection bare and tangible.

“You are so generous, sweetie. Letting your pray off the hook so easily.” He couldn’t stop smiling even when he was raising to his feet, his hand going to massage his left shoulder. He looked at you and offered you his hand, which you immediately accepted. He helped you stand, his eyes tracing your every move, still unable to look away.

Your body entranced him, your presence lit a fire in his veins. The point where your hands touched warm and almost overwhelming. His desire for more once again proven unquenchable.

“Boys, let him know I’ll be there. It seems that I need to remind him who actually is in the position to make demands.” His voice was now authoritative, followed by the boys’ exclamations of “Will do, boss,” along with two salutes send his way.

And they were gone just as quickly as they had appeared.

“Don’t be too harsh on the chairman. I don’t want to get in the way of your business.” He saw you turn to him with a worried expression on your face, and he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering on the spot for much longer than necessary.

“Hmm, I’m afraid that’s impossible.” He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles, looking deep into your eyes. The sadness of you parting ways already blooming inside him. “They cut our time together short, so I’m planning on making them pay for that offense generously.” He smirked and watched you shake your head with disbelief, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I already miss you.” He heard you saying and you surprised him by throwing your arms around his neck, then kissing him almost senseless.

He closed his eyes and returned the kiss, which was starting to border on filthy. His hands grabbed your frame, pressing you closer to him, as his body bent toward you.

When you parted, your breaths were hot and heavy, a string of saliva still keeping your mouths connected. He stared at the filthy sight, his heart pounding in his chest, his boxers starting to become a rather tight fit. You placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away gently, your fingers trailing downward until they grazed his abdomen. He gulped audibly and remained still, watching you walk further and further away. He didn’t trust himself to move even an inch, afraid he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself anymore.

“Bye, Sylus. I’ll let you know when I get home safely.” You told him, walking away backwards now, your eyes not leaving his. “And we’ll continue what we started next time, okay, Boss?” The last part a whisper from your sweet lips, almost making him drop to his knees right then and there. You waved at him, shyness visible on your cheeks, and then you left him in the middle of the ring, stunned and filled with excruciating desire to finally have you.

Next time.

He groaned, his hands covering his blushing face, his mind already imagining the things he’ll do to you, only if you let him. God, he hoped that you’ll let him.

He did arrive late to the meeting that day, having to compose himself for much longer than you would have expected. He also made sure the chairman regretted keeping him away from you—your softness, your scent, an addictive drug he never wanted to be deprived of. The audacity to take that from him deserved nothing less than the highest of punishments.

He couldn’t help it, he already missed you.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Sylus could write poems about his beloved, listing all her remarkable qualities and quirks; however, not once would he describe her as elegant and composed.

You usually were a tornado of various emotions, a temple of the things you cherished, your expressions lively and loud, honest and unrestrained.

You were also a bit clumsy—an occasional stumble, a bump to your limb now and then, or a broken glass wasn’t anything that Sylus hadn’t see you do before. He often worried about you and your safety, with new bruises appearing on your body from bumping into things or a piece of glass piercing through your delicate skin. Sometimes, he wished he could protect you from yourself too, but all he could do was press a kiss to every small injury you sustained from your hectic movements.

All bumps aside, he utterly adored that quality of yours. Every time he caught you acting awkwardly his chest seemed to shrink on itself, his heart squeezing, cute aggression overcoming his senses. You were just so adorable in those moments, the sight always reminding him of a little fawn, beautiful but uneasy on its feet. His craving to grab you and hold you in his arms, protecting you from the whole world, was strong; the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, then to kiss you senseless, even stronger. You were his little chaos: wonderful in your unexpectedness, extraordinary in every sense of the word.

Needless to say, he was used to your adorable clumsiness. He loved it.

That was probably why his brain stopped working when you proved to be everything but clumsy while playing the games at the local funfair. Your moves sure and precise, your gaze locked onto the targets, your body positioned exactly how it should be in order to gain the reward you wanted—whether it was a new plushie, a funky gadget or even some snacks.

And he had to say that this new, confident, borderline cocky behavior you were displaying was making him feel some things.

“Wait, let me try this time.” You said the first time he couldn’t score the prize, the claw mocking him relentlessly, wounding his pride.

You got that plushie in one, excellent attempt.

“Let me get that for you, Sy.” You proposed later, seeing him eyeing a figurine of a crow that reminded him of Mephisto. You were able to get not only that, but also a coupon for a food stall that served the best waffles you’ve ever eaten. As for Sylus, the sweetness of the treat paled in comparison to your blinding smile, with whipped cream still staining the corner of your mouth. He swiped it away with his thumb, then licked the digit, sending you a wink in the process.

He took pride in your blush, especially when making each other red that day started to feel like a competition between you two, whether you were aware of it or not.

“You want this one? Say no more, handsome.” Your words almost making him choke, your hands already grabbing the controls, your body bending over the machine, offering him a wonderful view of your ass. The tips of his ears immediately started to feel as if caught on fire. Even though he knew that you were teasing him, the pet name sounding foreign from your lips, he liked the feeling of you taking the initiative.

He also couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering, your body presented to him in a way that felt illegal to watch. He swiped his gaze up from the nape of your neck to your shoulders, taking note of your delicious-looking waist, perky butt, and thighs, which seemed lonely without his hands squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.

The cheerful sound of the machine made him snap back into reality, just as you were looking over your shoulder, sending him the most sexy, oh so sexy, proud smirk he ever saw in his life. He smirked right back, even though his legs felt disturbingly like jelly.

“I’m starting to think you enjoy this.” He remarked, grabbing the prize from your hands once again, the rest of your treasures already sitting comfortably in the back of his car. You send him a mischievous smile and fixed your hair, your fingers threading through the strands, the smell of your perfume reaching him once again during that night.

He wanted to devour you.

“And what’s wrong with that?” One of your hands grabbed his bicep, holding on to him as you started your lazy stroll in search of yet another entertainment. “You always get me things. And since I know now that you suck at these games, I have a perfect opportunity to return the favor.” He laughed at that, his hand moving to flick your forehead.

“I don’t suck at these games, all of them are tempered with, sweetie. I actually find it astonishing that you are so good at them.” His reply kind of soothing his wounded pride, his mind once again remembering your movements from before. The way you moved with confidence and grace, the little smirks and winks you send his way. His blood started to boil several stalls ago, and it hasn’t calmed since. “Makes one wonder about the extend of your abilities.”

The new, cocky, and self-confident side of you aroused him almost to the point of him grabbing you by the waist and taking you to his car, taking advantage of his tined widows.

“It all comes down to having a good strategy, as someone once taught me.” You said, repeating the words Sylus is always saying to you during your training, a mirth lacing your tone. How he adored you.

“Wise counseling you have here, kitten. You must have a fantastic teacher, if his lessons are proving to be useful anywhere you go.” The smile not leaving your face making him never want to look away.

“Oh, yes, he is. And an eye-candy too.” You touched his nose with the tip of your finger teasingly while he laughed. He stopped walking and turned to you fully, his arms closing around your waist, bringing you to him, close enough for your bodies to touch. The height difference always made him dizzy, with your head fully tilted upward in order to catch his gaze.

“Mm. Maybe that’s a quality he learned from you.” His tone quiet, one of his hands going to touch your cheek, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip. You appeared stunned. “I cannot think of someone sweeter than you. If he’s a candy, you’re one delectable dessert.” He whispered, his eyes going from your eyes to your lips, their reddish tone reminding him of a little cherry. He was fighting with himself not to put his hands on your ass, and squeeze the flesh that you kept pushing his way from the very beginning of your date, or not to place a kiss on your smart little mouth, which kept sending him these playful smirks all day long. He knew that if he started here, he would not be able to stop. No one would be capable of separating him from you, public place be damned.

His desire boiling inside him, threatening to melt his vessels and pour from his body, enveloping you in a tight, pleasurable embrace. He felt feverish, your body pressed to his giving him all the warmth he ever needed, molding his thoughts to fit only your frame.

You were perfect in his eyes. Your body, the perfect shape for him to hold, your face the only one he wanted to remember. And the way he felt when he was with you—so immensely happy, so carefree, so right—was a feeling he had never even dreamed about having. Your banter, little jokes and witty comments made him so at ease he never wanted to stop talking to you, afraid of depriving himself of even a second of the comfort you brought him: the knowledge that he could speak his mind freely, for you understood him beyond the limitations of language. By your side, he could be himself, the thoughts in his head quiet, giving way to expressing himself in any way he wanted. His little taste of heaven: the time you spent together.

He loved you. So intensely it used to scare him, but now he was offering himself willingly, no longer afraid of rejection. Even though you both still didn’t acknowledge it out loud, the feeling lingered in the air between you — a delectable sweetness, a comforting fragrance.

He wanted you. Body and soul. Soul and body. He liked to think he already had your soul in grasp, your actions and openness served as a perfect proof of that, yet your body was still his to claim. And the fact that there was still a part of you he didn’t manage to possess, to thoroughly acknowledge, frustrated him inconceivably.

Especially because you had that strong of an effect on him. Everything you did capable of driving him perfectly insane. Oh, how you had him wrapped around your little finger, without being aware how completely obsessed he was with you.

“Is that so?” His gaze went from your hypnotizing eyes back to your lips, drinking in every single whisper. You stood on your tiptoes, the sight making his hands squeeze your waist tighter, his breath quickening, mind trying to process closer distance. “If he keeps sweet-talking me like this, then I guess he will finally get to taste it.” You grabbed his chin and tilted it down, pressing a soft, drawn-out kiss to his lips. His eyes closed immediately, desperate to heighten his senses. He wanted this kiss to last, both in the moment and later in his memory.

And just as he was about to wrap his arms around your back, pulling you closer, hiding your body from everyone else just to steal a few more kisses, you stepped back, the quiet sound of a smooch echoing between you. He bit his lip, almost drawing blood, restraining himself from chasing after your lips.

“C’mon now. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve that I need to show you.” You gripped his hand tighter and started to walk toward one of the booths. You sent him a smile over your shoulder, making his efforts to calm his racing heart futile. “And then maybe we can grab some cotton candy? All this talk about sweets made me crave some.”

“Anything for you, sweetie.” He answered absentmindedly, your taste still lingering on his lips. How were you always able to move on from the kisses so quickly? It would be the only thing he could think about in the next minutes.

“And what do you want?”

“Hmm?” The question shocked him, his eyebrows going up, his eyes intently observing your face.

“Do you have something you’d like to do while we’re here? I keep dragging you stall to stall ever since we came here.” You said while turning to fully face him, grabbing both of his hands. “I want you to have fun too.”

“I always have fun when I’m with you.” His response honest, his thumb caressing your knuckles. “You make life so interesting. And today you already managed to surprise me, so I would say that was more than enough entertainment for me in a day.” You rolled your eyes at him, a small smile on your lips, and looked at him with patience.

“But the day’s not over yet. Isn’t there anything you’d like to do? Look around.”

He lifted his head from your frame and began taking in the booths and various food stalls that had previously escaped his attention. He hummed, as he could feel you shifting on your feet, unable to contain your excitement.

That’s when he caught something interesting out of the corner of his eye—a couple emerging from a small booth, huge smiles plastered on their faces as they held small pieces of paper. A spark of excitement ignited inside him upon realizing what it was.

“There. I want to have a memento.” He said, his finger pointing to that innocent-looking booth. Almost impossible to spot in the abundance of lights and sounds coming from other attractions.

“Okay! I think I already won you a mountain of mementos but if—Ah!” Your eyes lit up when you realized what he was pointing to, your lips spreading in a cheerful smile. “A photo booth! Sylus, that’s wonderful!”

It wasn’t long before you were both inside the booth, the space cramped, almost too small for him to fit. He sat on the small stool, taking up nearly all the space, leaving you no choice but to sit on one of his legs. Your arms wrapped around his neck for stability, yet there wasn’t a hint of discomfort on your face.

He loved how natural it was for you to be this close to him, the proximity no longer making you nervous. He still remembered how you were at the beginning of your acquaintance, when even an eye contact was enough to make you to shy away. Now, touching him was as easy as breathing, your body relaxed and pliant under his wandering hands.

While you were clicking playfully on the screen, setting up the machine, he took his time observing you—mainly how your body looked next to his, which made him short-circuit, reminding him why he was still waiting for you to make the first move in initiating sexual intimacy. The reason he didn’t want to rush things, nervousness buried deep inside his chest.

You were sitting on his leg, your whole body weighting next to nothing, his one limb nearly twice as big as both of yours. Your soft flesh pressed to him didn’t even take up half of the place available on his leg, and when he put one of his hands on your back, the huge patch of your skin he was able to cover made him gulp audibly.

You were so tiny, next to him.

He was a huge man, and he knew that. Not just his height, but his overall build made even other men look small in comparison. While he usually considered it one of his greatest assets, a fantastic tool for intimidation, in this particular case, it planted a seed of worry in him.

It took some time for you not to shy away from his touch, not to flinch every time he leaned to you, his body covering whole line of your vision. And it took him even more time to learn how he should touch you and hold you, not to put too much force behind his caresses, not to make you bruise. And although the gentleness run in his bloodstream by now, he was still worried about the actual sex.

What if he scares you? His body completely covered your delicious curves without issue.

What if he overwhelms you? His stamina and eagerness matched his overall size.

What if he hurts you? The thought of your body unable to accommodate to his size made his blood run cold.

He looked at your body again, and he had to hold in a sigh. He loved your curves, the unbelievable softness of your skin, how warm you were. He felt his hunger increasing every day, every minute, every second he spend in your presence.

Yet he had to wait patiently, not wanting to scare you. He also knew that you were starting to get bolder with him day by day. He liked to think that it was just a matter of time until you will initiate something more, cover him with your soft embrace, let him melt in your warmth.

Because at the end of the day, his observations of your size difference not only filled his mind with fear, but also made his body tingle in all the right places. The arousal he felt knowing that he could manhandle you without any issue, cover your whole body entirely with his, shield you from the world and its coldness—all consuming. The only thing he could think about.

You were tiny in his embrace.

But he could make it work. He will make it work so good.

How could he hurt you when he was so certain that you were made to be his? Two halves of a perfect soul.

His hand slid down to hug your waist and he pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. It made you giggle, you thought that it was his way of showing impatience. And it was, in a way. Just not the kind of impatience you assumed it was.

“All set! I had some fun with the stickers, do you want to choose your own?” He looked at the screen and opened his mouth to deny, but one sticker did actually catch his attention. He clicked on the small dove and placed it in the bottom of the template, next to the various hearts you already decorated it with.

“That’s you. The resemblance is almost striking.” He said making you laugh and you picked a sticker of some kind of a black bird.

“And that’s you. They unfortunately don’t have a crow one so this little fella has to work.” You placed the sticker close to the dove one, satisfied with your work.

“I get the vision. When I’m squinting my eyes, I guess.”

You had four pictures taken, all accompanied by laughter and endless teasing. One where you kissed his cheek, one hand holding his jaw, his eyes closed and features relaxed. One where he pretended to bite your neck, your face caught in laughter. One where he rolled his eyes, reacting to your lame joke of getting rabies from his bite, as you placed your pointed fingers above his head, adoring him with imaginary horns, your mouth open in fake shock. And the last one, where you grabbed his face and kissed him, his gentle smile pressed against your mouth, a picture of joy that couldn’t be restrained.

“I might have went kind of overboard with the stickers.” You said when you got your two copies of the pictures, four perfect rectangles inside a scarlet border, adorned with hearts, flowers and stars. Two adorable birds were at the very bottom of it, just below the date. Sylus looked at the pictures, and his heart seemed to grow bigger, the wave of emotions making him unable to utter even a simple word. “But I think they’re cute regardless! It’s so nice to finally have a picture of us printed out. I’m definitely going to frame mine.” You said and took out your phone to take a picture of it.

His thumb gently caressed the piece of paper, words still stuck in his throat.

It was the very first picture of you two together, and when he looked at it, he couldn’t help but get emotional, knowing that he never expected to have someone like you in his life. Someone to cherish, to protect, to hold. Someone who reciprocated his feelings, someone who will never leave him, even if doomsday falls upon Linkon, even if the world crumbles.

“Are you okay, Sy? You’ve gone nonverbal again.” He felt your hand on his wrist, offering him a gentle squeeze. He finally looked at you, going out of the trace he was in, and saw your beautiful face laced with concern. He felt your hand going up and down his arm, caressing him in order to bring comfort.

“Did I?” He managed to choke out and hugged you to his chest, craving the closeness, not wanting you to see his slightly glistening eyes. He feared that the darkness of the night would not be enough to cover them, the lights from the fun fair only exaggerating his sudden surge of emotions. “They’re perfect. Thank you.” You hugged his torso tightly, your arms going up and down his back. You knew him well enough to realize he got emotional, but you were smart enough to let him savor his feelings in peace. If he was not comfortable showing you his tears, you had to understand it—the knowledge of how much it meant to him already warming your heart.

“Anything for you, Sylus.” You repeated the same thing he said to you earlier, and he picked you up, still hugging you to himself, his face finding coverage in the crook of your neck.

“Sly little thing.” He whispered and pressed a kiss there, drinking in the sound of your laugh and melting under the touch of your fingers, which stroked his hair affectionately.

Oh, how he couldn’t wait to finally be yours completely.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Mesmerizing.

You, dancing in his room at two p.m to the new vinyl he bought, your hair down, arms up. Your eyes were closed and there was a small, relaxed smile playing on your lips, that seemed to grow bigger with each sway of your hips. You decided to wear the nightgown he got you some time ago, white lace caressing your body with a gentle flow of the shiny fabric.

He couldn’t breathe. All air sucked out of his lungs the moment he turned around and saw you swaying to the music he picked out. A surge of want so intense came over him that he was afraid to move even an inch—his body on fire, his mind filled with the visions of you, thoughts of you, and what you could be reduced to, enriched with under the touch of his hands.

If only he wasn’t a coward.

“Will you join me?” you said over your shoulder, opening your eyes slightly, and you must’ve seen something unusual in his eyes, because your movements slowed down and a furrow appeared between your brows. He wanted to kiss it off instantly. “Sy?”

You were so precious and delicate, a perfect opposite of his harsh exterior and even more barbaric interior. He waited so long, restrained himself for so much time, waiting for you to move first—now, standing before you, the thought that you wanted him this way too pierced a hole in his heart and filled it with fear.

“Forgive me. I cannot.” he answered, his voice coming out with a slight growl, that he couldn’t contain anymore. He inhaled deeply and gritted his teeth, hoping that he was at least successful in not making his eye glow, his Evol suddenly unstable. He didn’t want to know your desires, not when they were visible so clearly on your face now—openness and anticipation, ever since you went back from your date.

He hoped that shower would be able to calm you down, even though the warm and steady stream of the water didn’t manage to help him this time around.

He was loosing his composure and he was loosing it fast. Weeks of this insatiable hunger, unrelenting need and dripping tension did that to him. He knew he was fighting a loosing battle ever since he laid his eyes on you today, looking so cozy in your oversized sweater, filling the air around him with your intoxicating scent.

He was ready to devour you months ago, the build up straining his muscles now, making him restless. He was a goner—one wrong move and his previous patience and willingness for you to take the lead reducing to vapor.

“Why? We always dance together to your vinyls, especially the new ones.” Your movements faltered to a stop, your magnificent face turned to him, with an expression so honest it made his heart clench painfully.

He thought of all the times you danced under the moonlight, soft notes of his favorite music floating through the air, your bodies moving to the rhythm, sometimes gracefully, some other times not so much. The feelings overwhelmed him even more drastically, his eyes closing for a moment.

It was enough time for you to close the distance, and soon he felt your cold hand pressing against his cheek, swiping the flesh with your thumb. He squeezed his eyelids shut tighter, the touch making his soul burn. You took his head in both of your hands, lowering it to face you.

“Sylus, talk to me.” you said, tone worried. He could feel you standing on your tiptoes, wanting to bring your face closer to his. His body almost shaking with the need to hold you. “You’re acting very unusual today. Is something wrong?” He exhaled the air he didn’t know he was holding and opened his eyes. Your face was so close that he could see the shadow your eyelashes cast on your cheeks. He could feel your breath, warm and inviting.

“I can’t touch you now,” he managed to utter, his hands at his sides, struck in cruel stillness. He locked his eyes with yours, filled with worry and a comforting gentleness. You were always so gentle with him, it made him go insane. “Because if I do, I won’t be able to hold back anymore.”

He saw the realization in the shift of your features as you fully grasped the meaning of his words. To his surprise, you took one of his hands in yours, and placed it on your cleavage, right over your beating heart, the rhythm beneath his palm fast but steady.

“Then don’t. Why would you even want to hold back with me?” You answered, slightly breathless, a pleasurable tingling already setting deeply in your abdomen. You looked at his face, the redness of his cheeks nearly matching the color of his eyes, the look he gave you so desperate it turned your legs to cotton.

The sudden burst of happiness in your chest almost made you tremble, you had waited so long for him to finally claim you as his, and it seemed he had finally reached his limit.

“I don’t—” He stumbled upon his words, a reaction so different from his usual self-confident demeanor it made you crave to uncover more versions of him. All versions of him, every single one he was willing to show you. “I can’t help but fear that I will hurt you. You are so soft, so breakable, it makes me nervous. Aren’t you scared of me? Of—Of what I could do, to you?” The confession slipping out of him, and he grabbed your wrist in one hand, the other coming to rest on your back. He slowly brought you to him, pressing your bodies together. He heard your breath falter, and drank that sound in. Then don’t — you had no idea what a hurricane you managed to stir inside him with just two simple words.

“Sy. My sweet, caring gentleman.” He heard your answer, and felt your fingers caressing his under eyes gently, your eyes never leaving his. One of your fingers touched the wrinkle between his brows, smoothing the furrowed surface. “You could never hurt me, even if you wanted to. You’re so fixated on the knowledge what you can do, that you’re forgetting that you’ve never even touched me hard enough to leave a bruise. No matter how much I wanted you to, sometimes.”

“You—”

“I’m not scared of you, Sylus. I could never, and I will never be scared of you. You’re the one with whom I feel the safest.” His hands started trembling, his patience thinning with every beautiful word from your lips. You were telling him things he didn’t even know how desperately he wanted to hear. “And I want you. I want to finally feel you, all your roughness and sharp edges. I want all of it.” The sound of your breathing mingled with the soft tunes of the vinyl. The air thick with want.

Any second now, he could feel it in the shiver down his spine.

“And I want it now.”

Snap.

His resolve shattered as he pulled you into him, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep and desperate it left your legs trembling. He kissed you with raw intensity, his tongue exploring your mouth, drinking in every sound you made as his hands roamed your body, claiming every inch he could reach.

You felt him everywhere. Your thighs, hips, waist, your neck, hair and breasts—he seemed to touch everything he was depriving himself of before. His hands huge, and although slightly rushed and trembling, still surprisingly gentle.

He lift you up, your legs straining his waist and he laid you down on his bed, not breaking the kiss for even a second, your breath his breath, your lips water to quench his thirst.

His head was spinning, and when he finally opened his eyes the sight before him alone made him lose his mind.

You were sprawled under him, your hair a wild mess, your lips swollen from the abundance of his kisses. Your eyes glistened, the look in them so full of trust and love, love so visible it nearly broke him in half.

“You’re exquisite. Irresistible. Ethereal.” The praises slipped out of his tongue before he could stop them. The last bit of control fleeting with the touch of your impatient fingers, unbuttoning his shirt, taking it off of him in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t even find it in himself to tease you for your impatience, not when his brain already turned into mush after touching your bare skin. “You look as if you’re coated in frosting. My sweet girl, my most delectable little sin.” His eyes focused on your white dress, his hands not brave enough to let it slip off of you yet. He already feared the man he would become upon seeing you fully bared before him.

“Sylus—”

“It’s unholy. How much I want you.” His lips traced a path from beneath your ear down to your neck, finding their place on your collarbones. “How much I need you. The greed unexplainable, insatiable no matter how close I get to you. It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” His eyes met yours in a silent question and you nodded quickly in permission, gulping audibly, your eyes drooping. He let his hands travel up your legs, grazing your inner thighs, swiping through your hips, his palms tracing the lace of your panties, making the hair on his body raise. He then swiped through your waist and finally, finally his hands rested on your breasts, where you wanted them from the very beginning.

His breath hitched as he looked down your body, noticing how his touch had already lifted the fabric of your dress, baring your legs and stomach. His body shielded you from the chill in the air.

He squeezed your breasts gently, fondling them in his hands, a low groan escaping his lips—the same ones which couldn’t resist kissing your belly, anywhere he could reach, not even thinking about stopping his sensual kneading. It baffled him, how soft you were, how pliant under his touch. His hands, although taking so much of the space on your body didn’t seem to make you nervous at all—every single one of his touches you accepted with soft sights, low whines and a bitten lip. You trusted him, and he was drunk on that trust, wanted more, needed to see how far it could take him.

It quickly appeared that there was no limit to the things he could do to you, your whispers not only appreciative, but also encouraging. The uncontrollable thrusts of his hips against the duvet bordered on painful, the knowledge that he would have you in mere minutes making him unbearably hard. But he accepted the friction, your comfort mattered to him the most, and he wanted to take care of you properly.

“Sylus. Sylus, more, please.” He heard your silent plea, and caught your eyes in his, and that’s when he decided it was a time for you to drop the dress. He helped you out of it then licked the goosebumps forming between your breasts, each tiny dot on your skin making him awfully aware that this was it. Your beautiful form, completely bare, just for him to see, to worship.

“My little gem.” He breathed out, his eyes drinking in your body, committing to his memory every dip and curve. “My treasure.” He nearly growled, his mouth attached to your breast, licking and sucking on your nipple, moaning in the process. He wanted to devour you whole, to not leave a patch of skin untouched by his mouth. He thrived in the way you took hold of his head, your hands messing up his hair, caressing it when his tongue worshipped your breasts and nipples, drowning in their softness. He found his safe place.

“Oh God I—I feel like I’m floating, please don’t stop.” He heard you breathe out, your chest heaving, your legs closing in an attempt to relieve the tension building inside you. “You’re so good. So, so, so good, Sy.” He released one of your nipples with a pop, and stored the visual of your skin glistening with his saliva for later. He basked in your praise and pushed himself down, knowing exactly what he wanted to do next.

“Yes? You want it, kitten? Say you do. Please. I need you to say it.” His voice groggy, laced with yearning so tangible it made your body shiver.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Please, Sy. I waited so long for you.” Your words made his head spin, a smile spreading on his lips not flirtatious at all, just pure joy and contentment. He kissed your stomach and his hands once again swiped through your whole body. He raised on his forearms and caged your head between his arms, and then pressed a long, deep kiss on your mouth which quickly turned into another wave of heavy kisses. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

He was ravenous.

“I need to prepare you first, sweetie.” He said to your mouth, his words immediately swallowed by your perfect lips. You whimpered and his grip on your arm tightened involuntarily, his hand playing with your hair. “I need to take my time with you, otherwise I won’t be able to fit. You’re so tiny it scares me.” You nodded into the kiss and he smiled at you gently, and after pressing a kiss to your forehead, he went down.

And when he finally widened your legs, his mouth was on you instantly, making you moan, your legs clasping on his head reflexively. He grunted into your core, licking and sucking skillfully, guided entirely by pure need and his own instincts.

“You taste so sweet.” It wasn’t long before your legs were trembling and his fingers joined his mouth in an attempt to open you up a little more, to prepare you for what’s to come. “You’re dripping because of me.” He chuckled softly but deeply, chest filled with pride, and he licked your core once again, sucking at the sensitive bud. What he didn’t expect was when he managed to fit one figer inside you, angling it upwards, your back suddenly raised from the bed, hands reaching to his chest, delicately pushing him away. A drowned out cry escaped your lips, the wetness between your tights increased, your plushy walls fluttered around his finger.

He made you come, and he instantly got addicted to it.

“Yes. Yes. Just like that, beautiful—Fuck.” With a swear word on his lips he wasted no time in slurping up your spent, his fingers from one, going up to two, then three. And when the only thing he could hear were your moans and whimpers, the taste of you imprinted on his tongue, the slide of his fingers smooth and slick—he realized that you were ready for him.

He slowly withdrew from your pussy, pressing one last lingering kiss to your clit. As his fingers slipped out of you, he finally let himself to catch more than a glimpse of your face.

And it shattered him, how utterly ruined you looked. All flushed and heaving, skin glistening with sweat, eyes shining, filled with unshed tears.

He did that to you, and he couldn’t be more proud of himself. He licked his fingers clean, savoring your taste, then he pulled you into an embrace, his arms wrapping around your whole body. Your head dropped on his bicep, your breath labored.

“You okay, kitten?” He asked gently, ignoring his painful erection, still stranded in the stiff fabric of his pants. His head pressed to your neck, and he inhaled the scent, licking off the droplets of sweat in the process. He couldn’t get enough.

“Yes. More than okay.” You answered, and he felt your hand wandering, trying to unbuckle his belt. His chest squeezed. “Need you now. Please, Sylus…”

“You don’t have to beg. I’ll gladly give you my everything. All of me.” His hands left your body for a moment, swiftly taking off his pants, his mouth now kissing your cheeks and nose.

“I want to taste you, too.” You whispered to him shyly, and he grunted, closing his eyes, begging every deity to give him more patience. How he would love for your little mouth to envelop him, but he knew that the sight alone would be enough to make him undone.

“Next time, okay, sweetie? I cannot wait to be inside you.” You giggled and nodded, pressing a kiss to his nose, stroking his hair gently.

He shivered and hissed when he took off his underwear, letting himself out in the open. He was so hard it hurt, his hand going up and down his erection in an attempt to reduce the tension, even though he knew that the only one who could truly satisfy him was you.

“Oh my god.” He heard your gasp, and noticed that you were looking at him, his body fully exposed, his cock heavy in his hand. “Sylus— Sy, it won’t fit. There’s no way that—” He silenced you with a kiss, and swiped his hand through your core, gathering the slick and spreading it on his member. The smooth glide felt so good he lost himself in the feeling for a second, his tongue licking into your mouth, swallowing your gasps.

“Shhh, I made sure to prepare you as well as I could. And I won’t hurt you, you said so yourself.” He said the last sentence into your lips, once again pressing a long kiss there. Then he kissed your cheek, and breathed hard against your neck, his one hand wrapped around your waist, holding you closer to him, and the other stroked his cock, guiding it to your entrance. When the tip touched you, he gritted his teeth and you gasped, the first contact electric. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers playing nervously with the hair at his nape.

He breathed heavily, the tip of his cock aligned perfectly with your entrance. “You can take it, you were made for me. I will make it fit.” He let go of your waist and grabbed one of your hands in his, kissing your knuckles and smiling gently at you, the anticipation making his body shake. “Just relax for me, will you? Can you do that, kitten?” You nodded and exhaled slowly, some tension getting out of your body. He pressed one last kiss to your forehead and intertwined your fingers with his.

“Close your eyes. I want you to feel me.”

“No. I need to see you, Sy. Don’t make me look away.” He chuckled and pressed his forehead against yours in a silent acceptance. He never wanted to take his eyes away from you too, your desires matching perfectly.

You were his soulmate, after all.

He pressed his erection to your opening and started to slip in, gently, unhurriedly, despite the desire to take you in one thrust of his hips. You opened your mouth in a painful moan, squeezing his hand, panic visible in your eyes. He hated that he was bringing you pain, but knew that it was inevitable, he saw how wide he was stretching you out. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Easy. You’re doing so good…” He breathed out, his hand leaving his cock to hold your hip, the other going up and down your body in a comforting caress. “Taking me so well...” His voice hoarse, sweat dripping from his forehead from the strain of keeping himself under control. He managed to put the tip in, your pussy squeezing him, your heat making him shiver, the sensation the most pleasurable he ever felt. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to calm himself down.

“It hurts, it really—it really hurts.” You whispered and he grunted, feeling you squeeze him harder, his length sliding into you deeper. He opened his eyes and lowered his body to get closer to your face, and placed a kiss between your eyebrows.

“I know, love. If you want to me stop—” He couldn’t recognize his voice anymore.

“No. Never. Please.” You kissed his brow, and send him a small smile. “I—I can take it. I was made for you, yeah?”

He huffed out a laugh, a whimper finding a way out at the same time.

“You were. Mmhm. Good.” He slipped in further, his mouth opening wider. “Good girl. Just a little more.” And before he managed to stop the shivering of his body, he burrowed himself in your tight heat almost to the brim. You were not able to take all of him in yet, but it was nearly a perfect fit, the sight of you wrapped around him made him see red, a low moan slipping out of him, your whimpers the most magnificent tune he ever heard.

“I’m going to move now.” He said and you moaned, your head nodding frantically.

He started thrusting inside you, and he felt as if fireworks exploded inside him, the desire burning brightly, need finally calming down, his mind completely at ease. Your moans, whimpers, cute little “ah,ah,ah’s” making his whole body shiver, a smile finding its way onto his swollen lips. You felt so good below him, your warmth enveloping him fully, and he started to question if he truly was worthy of such a blessing.

He didn’t care anymore. He had you, you wanted him and that was all that mattered now.

“You’re so. fucking. tight. God.” He started moving faster to the accompaniment of your small encouragements, his hand holding onto yours. And when your legs wrapped around his hips, bringing him closer to you, he was gone.

He grabbed your waist and lifted up your butt, the pace and force of his thrusts intensifying, his grunts leaving his mouth freely, silent praises slipping from his lips every now and then. He couldn’t stop now. Didn’t want to stop.

“I want—I want to stay inside you forever. I feel—Ah—Mm—like I’m melting.” He moaned and you felt his mouth on your body, kissing every patch of skin he was able to reach. You kept breathing out soft, quiet moans, tears filling your vision. “So cute.”

You felt so good, the stretch now pleasurable, your body accepting him fully, every thrust welcome, each one anticipated.

And he could see that so clearly on your face, his mind calming, knowing that he was able to bring you pleasure. It made him feel better too, your lovely expressions making his blood pump faster, his hips thrust deeper, just to see and hear more tokens of your delight. He was addicted to you and your reactions, to the way you sang his name, the way your skin tasted and eyes glistened every time he managed to catch eye contact.

Time quickly went by when you were loosing yourselves in each other. The positions changed constantly, Sylus looking for and finding new ways to tip you over the edge, making sure you were completely satisfied. You encouraged him to leave some marks on you, and you made sure to repay the sentiment, scratching his back with your nails, and pressing hickies on his chest—he already wished for the marks to stay there forever, and you assured him that you’ll stay instead, making him jump on you once again, burying his head in your shoulder.

“Say my name, kitten. Keep—Keep saying my name.” He grunted, his hips unrelenting, your bodies soaked, your own so tired that he had to hold it in his arm for you to not slip off the bed. He kept thrusting inside you from behind, his lips pressing gentle kisses on your neck and shoulder, his movements deep and sensual, pleasure overwhelming. You granted his wish, your voice hoarse and quiet.

You were going at it for hours now, yet he still hasn’t come.

Not because he couldn’t, but because every time he was close, he was slipping out of you, his eyes squeezing shut, a hand gripping himself at the base.

He didn’t want the night to end, refused to let you go, savored the feeling of being buried deep inside you, not knowing where you ended and he began.

“Sy—Mmm—Sylus—Ah.” The words failed you, your mind filled only with pleasure and thoughts of him. You were so tired and yet he made you feel so good you wanted to stay in his arms forever. “The—Ah—The sun is rising.”

He nuzzled into your cheek, his thrusts slowing down, quiet grunts leaving his lips. He sounded wrecked.

“I know, love. You look so wonderful in this light.” He kissed your cheek and glued himself off of you, leaving your body cold and shivering. In the next second, he manhandled you onto your back again, facing him. Your hands immediately flew to cover your face, fearing how completely ruined you must have looked after so much time making love and so many orgasms ripped out of you.

“No—Mmh—Don’t hide yourself from me.” He grunted, and took your hands in his gently, revealing the beautiful mess he managed to make of you. Your face covered in tears, cheeks flushed and lips so swollen it only made him want to kiss them some more. So he did. “Never hide yourself from me, dove. Hold me.” He kissed the palms of your hands and put them on his neck, your arms going to hold him closer. He huffed out a weak laugh, his thrusts not stopping even for a second. You felt his huge hands caressing your thighs and you moaned softly. “God, I’m sorry, kitten, I just can’t stop—I—”

“It’s okay, S—Sylus. Ah—I won’t run away.” You pulled his head closer and kissed his lips softly. His hands encircled your waist, drawing your body closer to him, the hair on his forehead brushing against your chest. Your eyes met his and he seemed to calm slightly, your gaze soothing the flame inside him.

“I love you. I—” You suddenly confessed, a single tear slipping down your cheek. His breath faltered, ruby eyes widening, your words shaking his world completely. “I love you, Sylus. So much. I love you so intensely it scares me, I—Ah—” A moan was ripped from you when he suddenly picked up the pace, the sweat from his forehead landing between your breasts. Another happy tear slipped from your eye, and if you had enough energy to keep your eyes open, you’d see that he was teary-eyed too. His hands grabbed your head, turning it up so he could look straight into your eyes—his own burning with desire and unspoken devotion. He needed to hear you say the words once more, but before he could start pleading for it, you managed to read his mind.

“I love you, Sylus.”

And those words were what finally made him shatter.

He came, so violently he nearly blacked out, his whole body trembling, and movements faltering, his cock buried inside you the deepest he could go. He released grunt after grunt, his arms holding you tight to him, your soft sighs only seemed to prolong his fall. He nuzzled his face up against your neck, then cheek, his lips touching your skin, unable to press more kisses due to the uncontrollable moans coming out of his mouth.

“F-Fuck—” He managed to choke out and you tried to calm your heavy breathing, focused on his cum filling you up, so much that you could already feel it spilling out. You whined and brought your hands to his waist, holding him close, and you came one last time too, your pussy squeezing him even tighter, ripping a short cry out of him. Goosebumps spread around your body from the pleasure and you went pliant in his arms, letting your sore muscles finally rest against the soft sheets.

Sylus relaxed a few moments later, his sweaty body collapsing on top of you, mindful not to put his full weight on you. His hot, heavy breath still warmed your neck, your hearts beating rapidly against each other, showing no signs of calming anytime soon. He managed to turn onto his side, his arms still wrapped around you, taking your body with him.

You were held in a wet, yet warm embrace, his arms protecting you from the cold morning air, your bodies still connected. The silence that ascended upon you comfortable and desired after so much time of intense workout—both throats roughed up and in need of hydration.

“Sylus, I—” You started saying, your voice a rough whisper, your head raising to meet his gaze, surprised that his crimson eyes were already studying you. He put one of his hands on the back of your head, his fingers playing with your hair ever so gently.

His gaze so intense you started to turn your head away, but he gently brought it back to him. He didn’t have to open his mouth for you to understand what he was feeling—the emotion in his eyes unmistakable.

“I love you, too.” He breathed out, his hand going up to your cheek, stroking it with the back of his fingers. His hand was cold and served as a delightful compress for your burning face. “I love you more than any words could ever express.”

He reminded you of a statue under this warm, morning light, his body perfectly sculpted. The only source of color were his cheeks, blaring red, nearly matching the color of his sparkling eyes. His wet hair still bearing the paths carved by your fingers, his lips kissed and twitching, fighting off a smile, which threatened to form when he realized how intensely you were observing him.

“My home is your home, my heart is your heart. Every breath I’ve been taking ever since I met you had already been yours — the day you tell me to cease, I will gladly do so.” He continued, his breath slowly calming down, one of your hands going to stroke his chest.

“I will never tell you to cease, you little dramatic fool.” You answered playfully, blinking away your tears, your hand going to rest on his warm cheek, his face immediately nuzzling into your palm. “If anything, I would curse you to live forever. Soundly and happily, by my side.” A soft laugh came out of his lips; a start of a smile that overtook his entire face, lightening up his features, showing off his small sharp canines.

“By your side...” He repeated, his voice possessing a dream-like quality, a smirk still visible. He swiped his hand over your body: from your shoulder, through your waist, down to your hip, and then back up. His touch soothing as always. “A curse has never sounded so sweet, my little dove.” He closed his eyes, and a sigh escaped his lips. The happiness spread through his body so intensely, that he thought he was going to burst.

Live forever, by your side. There was no other place in the entire universe where he would rather be.

He felt you squirming, a crease appearing between your brows, your hand squeezing his bicep. He hissed, feeling you squeeze him down there too, his cock still buried deep inside you, your plush walls a place he never wanted to leave. However, he knew that after so much time and so many orgasms you needed a break, your body sensitive and in need of extensive pampering. Good thing he adored spoiling you with affection.

“I’m going to pull out now, okay sweetheart?” You nodded your head, a small smile on your lips. You were just too adorable. “And then I’ll put you in a warm bath, order your favorite meal and change the sheets. Any objections?”

“None at all.” He switched your position so that he was once again on top of you, and he gently pulled out, a grunt leaving his lips at the loss of the comfortable fit. You whimpered when his cum started flowing out of you freely, and he couldn’t look away, the sight making the desire in him burn once more. He stopped himself before he started showing the cum back inside you. “Will you join me in the bath too?” He looked at your face, covered in the warm sunlight, the sight making him breathless.

“I would love to, if that’s what you want.” He hugged you to himself one more time, his body covering yours completely, his face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. He grazed the delicate skin with his teeth, then pressed his lips to your pulse, his tongue picking out to lick at your salty skin. “I love you.” He whispered into your neck, basking in the feeling of your heartbeat beneath his lips. “I love you, Y/N. Thank you for showing me what love feels like. Thank you for accepting me.” His breath started going out labored, the intensity of the emotion too big for his body.

“Thank you, for letting me love you. You are the best thing that happened to me, Sylus. I hope you know that.” Your kiss to his temple and your hands caressing his back felt like a blessing, your bodies connected in a soul-crushing hug his own private oasis. Never in his life had he experienced such a moment of total tranquility; only you were capable of bringing him peace.

He never wanted to let you go, and he didn’t have to. No other thought filled him with so much joy. You were his, just as much as he was yours. An ideal exchange of souls.

“I do.” He breathed out, and looked into your loving eyes once again. You smiled at him, and he felt his breath being punched out of him, his ruby eyes fluttering. He shook his head and reciprocated the smile, which quickly turned into a full laugh, your bodies shaking, hearts beating in unison. “I truly do.”

Your lips found his in a kiss that tasted like a promise—of a hand to hold, body to warm up to, and a heart that beat for one another. In every life, every universe, and in every space and time—now, and forevermore.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ bonus! ˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

“So which one finally did it?” You asked him nonchalantly, when you were both freshly washed up, lying on the new, pleasurably chilly sheets, basking in the afternoon sunlight. Too exhausted to raise, too happy to fall asleep after the whole night of making love.

His head on your chest stirred slightly, a confusion slowly overtaking his features.

“Hmm?” He opened his eyes, but he didn’t find it in himself to raise. His arms holding your body close to his, tightening their hold, a signal he hoped would make you continue the caress of his back with your fingers.

Your skin bared a fragrance of his soap and his skin, and he felt drunk ever since he noticed it.

“The workout outfit a size too small? Or those jeans at the funfair?” You continued, and his mind started to connect the dots. His eyes widened. “I knew that I would be sticking my ass out a lot that day so I made sure they were extra tight.” He heard you giggle and raised his head immediately, his gaze falling on yours.

“You—”

“What? You were making me wait forever! And don’t get me wrong…” You cupped his cheek, and he was rendered speechless. The whole time he was fighting for his sanity, trying to wait for you, restraining himself from taking you on the nearest piece of furniture — You were riling him up on purpose? “I love that you are a gentleman, and the princess treatment is really nice too, but I just couldn’t wait to have you ravish me, you know? Your girl has needs.”

He was going completely insane. He let out a hearty laugh, and shook his head in disbelief. It seemed that he underestimated you again, forgot that your desires and needs matched his almost perfectly.

And he should’ve known that the workout clothes were a bit too revealing for your liking. Fuck, he should’ve known.

“And it seems my girl is a sly little vixen.” His voice laced with humor, a smile still visible, head impossibly light. He hummed, and kissed a smile off of your plump lips, then your neck, shoulders and chest. You started trembling, and the smile he send you this time made him look as if he was a wolf studying his pray. You gulped audibly. “Well then, if you decided to manipulate me, then I think you are ready to suffer the consequences.” His kisses reached your breasts, and he took one perky nipple into his mouth, sucking passionately. His other hand grabbed at the other boob, kneading the flesh languidly.

“But it’s already bright outside, shouldn’t we—” A press of his finger on your lips hushed you, and his eyes met yours, his lips still circled around your delicate nipple. With a snap of his fingers the curtains covered the windows, cutting of the only source of light. Darkness enveloped you, making the press of his body on yours even more intimate. Your body was still on fire after the hours of tangling in sheets, every part of you sensitive and tingling under his skilled hands.

“Ah, ah. You’re trembling. Why is that, I wonder?” You heard his voice closer to your ear, and when your eyes got used to the darkness, you saw his eyes filled with mirth and something primal. His hands went slowly up your tights, their destination obvious. “I had no idea that my kitten was that starved. Now I can’t possibly leave her unsatisfied, can I?”

You felt his hands touch your warmest spot, and you let fireworks overtake you once more, your spine twisting to get closer to him. He tasted the skin on your chest again, and went down with his kisses, leaving a happy, wet trial in its wake. He raised suddenly, kissing you on the lips.

“And what about the zipper?” He asked absentmindedly into your lips, remembering the situation that nearly made him lose his mind couple of weeks ago.

“What zipper?” Your confusion truthful, your squeal loud when he suddenly plopped motionless on top of you, a sigh of exasperation leaving his mouth.

It seems that loving you was the beginning of his end, after all.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

thank you for your time! ♡ PLEASE let me know if you liked it, i would appreciate every single comment and engagement!!! i would be so happy to read your reactions (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

likes would be much appreciated ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: omegaverse, omega reader, careless alpha husband, marriage problems, poor communication

♡ GN reader

He’s a little reckless sometimes—not always paying attention to the feelings of those around him, but he means well, you’re sure of that.

He’s just a little high-strung, is all—doesn’t really have the time to think things through.

He’s always been like that—ready for just about anything and everything anyone would throw his way, and just sort of expecting everyone else to be onboard. He’s an Alpha, after all—it’s not in their nature to worry or look back.

All your life, he’s been the leader—all you others could do was chase after him and just hope on your life to keep up. And as an Omega, you were comfortable like that—with having someone to follow. It felt natural to you—safe and good and correct.

But when he started courting you, you admit being a bit skeptical—weren’t sure if it would work the same way, not sure if it even could. Being mates is different, after all. You’re supposed to be in tune with one another, and you weren’t sure if you’d be heard or just end up being bulldozed.

But you figured, since you weren’t too big on making decisions anyway, that you’d just go along with it, and it would be fine. You’d put your trust in him and follow his lead, and maybe that would be enough.

And it was. Everything worked out perfectly—for the most part. You married in the spring and moved into your new house the day after. He’s a good husband and nice man, deserving of the respect he garners, and he’s successful. A true Alpha. Perfect on all fronts.

What more could an Omega ask for?

Well… suppose it wouldn’t hurt if he listened sometimes. Or no, that’s not fair. You’d have to speak up first in order for him to listen. Still, you think… he should be able to tell without you saying anything. 

You don’t even know what you’re complaining about, really… It's not as if he’s done anything overtly bad. You just feel… well, you suppose you just feel a little left out. He’s so dominating in everything he does—you just end up being swept along in the process. He doesn’t ask for your input, nor do you give it. Things just happen the way he wants them to before you’ve even agreed. You don’t even think he recognizes it himself, how he makes decisions you’re supposed to be making together on your behalf.

He bought the house without telling you, for starters. But it was a wedding present and a nice surprise, so you’re not mad about it exactly. But given how big a step it was, it still feels strange to have been on the outside. Then he sprung that vacation on you and even called your boss to schedule your leave—only a month after your honeymoon, no less. Not to mention the wedding itself—how all the arrangements were already done before you’d even sat down with the wedding planner, of whom was his choice. In some ways, or in many ways, you felt as if you were just a part of the decor.

But it’s not as if you aren’t happy—because you are. And it’s not as if you don’t love him—because you do. It’s just well… You know it’s not exactly fair, but you’re beginning to feel a little taken advantage of… as if he doesn’t even care about you or your thoughts and feelings as long as you’re keeping him happy.

But you can’t keep feeling that way without telling him, you decide. You’re sure none of it is his intention. You’ve never taken an interest in decision-making, so why would he think you’d want to? For all his prowess, you can’t exactly expect him to read your mind, either.

So, tonight’s the night you’ll finally say something. You want to be included. If he’s hiring a new maid, you wish to be a part of it. If he’s buying a new TV, you want to help pick out which one. If he’s taking you out to dinner, you want to be informed, preferably beforehand. Even if all he’s doing is getting his hair cut, you want him to tell you about it.

“Hello, welcome home,” you greet once he staggers into the bedroom, looking tired yet no less neatly put together than always.

“Hello, my sweet,” he mirrors, voice gruff with the toils of the day as he marches over to plant a kiss on your cheek.

It’s late. You’ve already gotten dressed for bed, having been just about ready to cut your losses and postpone the talk for tomorrow.

He could have told you he was working after hours. No, he should have.

You were just about to switch off the night lamp and go to sleep—but find yourself feeling redetermined now.

This was just another one of those things you can bring up as an example, after all.

“I-”

“God, I missed you today. Felt like work took an eternity,” he groans, hurriedly removing his suit with sloppy movements, throwing his jacket on the floor, shirt quickly following before he’s back on you. “Give me those pretty lips—I’m starving.”

He takes your mouth with his, one hand steadying him against the bedframe while the other works on unbuckling his belt, hunching over where you lay.

You put your hands on his bare chest to distance him, asking, “Can it wait a bit?”

He drops his pants on the floor and climbs on top of you, face buried in your neck while muttering, “No, not really. Been waiting all day.”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about something-” you try again, to no use.

“No talking tonight—none, except pillow talk.”

He says it with a smile. You feel it against your neck—his teeth and tongue and the heat of his voice.

You’re sure he means it playfully, and yet you freeze, feeling a little sick.

“But I really need to—”

“Omegas are supposed to obey their Alphas, you know.” 

His touch isn’t rough, but it’s not without force, but more than that it’s those words that make your heart jump and then stutter. 

You hold your breath, but it goes unnoticed by him or maybe ignored—you’re not sure which. It shocks you—scares you even, but then, following the original freight, your heart sinks, and you feel nothing but disheartened and disappointed.

And then, even a little angry.

“Oh…” you mumble, lying still beneath his onslaught. “I guess I thought I was yours ‘cause I wanted to be, but I see now…” Your brows cinch with many feelings between them. “I had it wrong.”

He halts then—struck with a sudden pang of guilt maybe, or perhaps just puzzled by your words. Whatever the case, the former rush he’d been in is gone, and he looks down at you—finally.

“What? What do you mea-”

“No, no, never mind. I was out of line,” you brush him off—harshly, and he blanches, going rigid. “Do what you want—you’re the Alpha, after all—so by all means.”

You turn your head to the side and lie still.

Eyes prickly and throat tight, you push the words out all stiff and hoarse, “I have no right to stop you, and even if I did, it’s not like I could. But who cares, right? Nothing I think matters.”

“Baby, you know that’s not what I mea–” he tries.

“Then what did you mean?” you all but bark, snapping to face him again. But however pointed your glare is, there’s no mistaking the now visible tears brimming in your eyes.

Seeing it, he stiffens even more, undaring to move. Trying to make his voice softer, “Don’t cry.”

But his acts of comfort are far from sufficient.

“Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?” 

Good, you think—it better. He made you uncomfortable when he ignored your wishes, so why shouldn’t you? And ignore him in turn?

“Funny that, isn't it?” you continue. “The only thing I have against you is a pesky few tears. Would you like me to turn around, maybe?” 

You know you’re guilt-tripping him—and you’re not sure why or if it’s the right thing to do, but even so, you couldn’t find it in you to stop either—no, not until you had punished him, for some reason.

“If you hide my face in a pillow, maybe you won’t hear it either–”

“Please stop,” he finally begs, bowing his head. “I’m sorry.”

You stop. You’re not sure if he even knows what he’s apologizing for. And though the thought of asking him to clarify strikes you, it doesn’t feel important. Those weren’t the words you wanted to hear.

You sigh then, trying to calm yourself down. “I don’t need you to be sorry. I need you to see me—to listen—I need you to respect me.”

He looks up again, this time with a deeply remorseful expression warping his face. “I do. I’m sorry-”

“Really?” you question. It's a little harsh, you admit, but it's what you need, “Then get off me and go sleep downstairs.”

He’s rigid under your admonishment. Shocked by your claims, yet begrudgingly ashamed by the truth in them. 

You were right. He wasn’t paying attention. And by the looks of it, he hasn’t been paying attention for a while.

 “Okay,” he ends up agreeing.

Sliding off the bed like a shunned dog, he walks back to the door he’d only just come through a moment ago.

Keeping a hand on the doorknob, he looks back—head still bowed.

“Good night.”

You feel a little bad about how it turned out, but you steal yourself. You wanted to be alone right now. In fact, you think it would do you both some good.

“We'll talk tomorrow. Good night.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Hawks, Mirio ♡ JJK – Gojo ♡ HQ – Kuro, Bokuto, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae, Yukimiya, Baro, Aiku ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ WB – Umemiya, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[nanamiskentos]

SCORCHED EARTH ✤ (五条 悟, gojo satoru)

── NO GOD, THE ONLY MAN IN THE SKY IS ME. Gojo Satoru is the nation's treasure, and its most dangerous asset. In a world where Supes are lauded as celebrities and heroes, there's only a select few that sees superheroes for what they really are ─ cogs in the propaganda machine, corrupt and lecherous. You're determined to hunt down the golden boy that leads them, to find Gojo Satoru and bring him down. But he's just as obsessed with you, and he gets to you first.

➤ 𝐉𝐉𝐊, gojo satoru & afab!reader, wc ─ 5k

cw ─ MDNI. enemies to lovers, THE BOYS AU, love/hate sex, HOMELANDER GOJO 😁, superhero au, cat & mouse dynamics, vigilante!reader, evil!gojo to some extent, mentions of a plane crash to be safe, kitchen sèx, breaking n' entering but they're into that, súb!gojo if u squint, fíngèring, òral (f), usage of powers, 3x01 homelander/butcher inspired, BIG DÍCK GOJO!!

呪術廻戦 : 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ( author says ) s/o to the evil man who inspired the gojo in this fic. and these scenes: 1/2 ofc (i'd rec watching to understand who reader/gojo is also inspired by). art, gojouify.

A ballpoint cap balances between your teeth as you scribble furiously, blue ink streaking across a spare napkin. The address is way too far out, a shipping container, two hours away and tucked into the skeletal maze of the port.

"This is a long drive for a maybe." You press the phone tighter against your ear, frowning at the scrawled numbers and letters, "You're sure I'll find something?"

On the other end, Nanami exhales sharply, the sound of a clock ticking faintly over the static. He's still in the office, no doubt hunched over a desk lit by the sickly glow of a desk lamp.

"Well," he hedges, ever the careful one, "I wouldn't go alone."

You tip your chair back, gaze drifting to the chaotic sprawl of files pinned to the red-string board by the wall. Photographs, names, offshore accounts that all lead back to the same festering rot. Lawmakers, politicians and billionaires.

The smiling, all-powerful titans who owned the system that was supposed to hold them accountable.

At the centre of it all? Gojo Satoru. The strongest superhero that the world had ever seen, barely held in check by Vought and international courts.

You chew at the soft inside of your cheek, "And you're sure this is the best lead we have?"

"After that shitshow at Congress?" Nanami sounds tired, stretched far too thin, "This is the only lead we have, or the only thing that I can find right now."

Ah, yes. The hearing.

The day you almost had them — Gojo, Vought and every polished, pre-packaged lie they peddled. A smoking gun to set the set the system ablaze.

And then, you could only watch the live television stream as every key witness's head popped like a balloon. Blood spraying against mahagony desks, gray matter splattered across the Capitol.

And not many had managed to escape that room unscathed. Save for a select few politicians and reporters, dealing out breathless, shaken interviews alongside an unshaken Gojo Satoru and Congressmen Geto.

You exhale through your nose, fingers tightening around the napkin, "Yeah, I'll check it out. See if I can find somethin' to nail that cunt."

"Let me know what you find," Nanami intones, a pause. And then, in a far more cautious tone, like he already knows you won't take heed, "Stay safe. And if you do come across Gojo, do not engage with him. In any way."

The line clicks dead.

You toss the streaky pen aside, reaching instead for the amber bottle on the cluttered table, the burn of whisky that's begging to be made familiar once more.

Regardless, it's far too late now to head out and check the address, for night has fallen and you doubt you'll manage to get far.

Beyond the murky glass of your balcony doors, the city pulses with sleepless energy. Neon signs flickering like dying embers, billboards — no doubt plastered with the airbrushed faces of the Supes who run this nation.

Sirens wail in the distance, and somewhere, far beyond the skyline you swear you see it.

A streak of white and blue, fast as lightning, splitting the sky for a fraction of a second. You blink, gummy and dry, nothing. Just the tired hallucinations of an exhausted, paranoid mind.

Pretending that there isn't a ghost in the sky watching you right back.

Your apartment is dying.

The walls peel like old skin, flaking onto the floors that were never properly finished. The overhead light's flickering, buzzing with a weak and dying hum. And the power outlets sputter like they resent being used. It's not a home, it never really was. Just another hideout, another temporary grave you haven't had to lie down in yet.

You press your knuckles into your eyes, willing the exhaustion away, but it sits heavy in your bones. Haven't you been running long enough? But even now, even here, you know it's not enough.

Because he knows. Gojo Satoru must have caught onto your trail months ago, and you can feel it in the way that the law often seems to let you go, and nation-wide manhunts culminate in no harm done. Like Gojo's toying with you.

Your fingers skim over the mess of papers on the table, stopping beneath a stack of unpaid bills and flyers. A small USB drive, wrapped in blue and silver.

Ah. Flight 37, a transatlantic flight carrying 123 passangers that never managed to land safely. But a goldmine had been fished out the torn wreckage, a shaky video clip that held proof of what Gojo Satoru truly was.

Not a saviour, not a hero. Not the golden boy that was worshipped on screens, talk shows and the international stage of diplomacy.

There's a prickling sensation under your skin, a slow burn that crawls up your arms. Then, it sinks deeper, heat. Your stomach clenches, cramping up as nausea slams into you like a freight train, your head spinning, your vision pulsing black at the edges.

You stumble, dropping the USB on the table as desparate fingers gripping the kitchen counter to stay upright. But you recognise the blisters blooming on the pads of your fingers, slow and ugly welts that bloom like flowers of rot.

This is no wayward sickness, for you would recognise the familiar decay of radioactive exposure. Something that's not quite human, or mortal.

Your blood turns to ice. Hold tightening around the edge of the counter, nails digging into the cheap laminate. Slowly, carefully, you approach the balcony.

The terracotta curtains are coarse under your fingers as you pull them aside. The city beyond is still alive, cars streaking through wet pavements and lights beaming in the smog. But it all feels muted.

Standing on the ledge, hands folded neatly behind his back, Gojo Satoru.

Your breath stutters as you force yourself to inhale, exhale. Slow and steady, through your nose. Whatever sick ploy he's radiating, you know it's simply meant to shake you. A twisted power play on his end.

So you hold your ground, and after a moment, the nausea ebbs. The blisters on your fingertips sealing over, cells stitching the edges of your frayed flesh back together.

You've never seen Gojo out of that deep blue suit, never without the brass eagles that pin the ridiculous cape over his broad back. Most heroes at least pretend to be human, some charade that they cling to for the chance of a secret life, away from the eyes of the press and the authorities. Supes often put on disguises, and casual clothes, something to blend in with the mortals that they claim to protect.

But Gojo?

There's no separation, no mask nor pretense. He doesn't walk among mortal men, he hovers above them. There's no separating him from the brutal power he wields — capable of striking a laser through a man's skull, or razing a city to rubble. Just a god with a PR-approved script, and the power to carve regimes into ribbons.

And yet, aren't you still standing?

If the strongest wanted you dead, he would have made a spectacle of it. Blood and fireworks for the evening news, another death used as collateral propaganda so the masses can thank him. That's the only mercy that Gojo knows.

You school your features, masking the instinct to flee. Or toss a plastic chair at his face. Gojo is akin to a hungry shark, and fear is blood in the water. You know that the safest way to deal with him is sheer indifference. If you give him nothing, he has nothing to bite or feast on.

You tilt your head, resting your weight against the large window as you pry it open. Letting the night air seep in, cold pricking at your skin, but it's nothing compared to the chill that Gojo's already dragged in with him.

He's staring. The blindfold is gone, and those impossible blue eyes fix on you, as though they're trying carve a jagged cut straight your ribcage — his handsome features stilled to stone.

You arch a brow, "If you're here to watch me get off, it'll cost you a tenner."

A beat of silence. And then, the smallest flicker of something that isn't amusement, but not quite irritation. Gojo doesn't rise to the bait, but his brow ticks up. The barest movement, as though he's debating whether or not to indulge you.

Jaw twitching as though Gojo seems to chew his words, slow and measured, "May I come in?"

You stare at him, gaze sweeping up and down, almost against your will. The way his suit hugs his body, emphasising the unfair curve of his chest, the sharp lines of Gojo's muscles, the tensions in the fabric as it stretches taut over skin. Eyes falling to the strand of white hair that flutters across his face, swaying in the night's breeze. Absurdly perfect, as if he's crafted from some celestial ideal.

But you refuse to indulge him, pressing your lips together tightly, not even a flicker of acknowledgement to the fact that he's standing on your balcony like he owns the damn place. Slowly, you step aside from the window, taking the invitation. Gojo doesn't need permission, but you give it anyway.

As Gojo sweeps past, your eyes linger on the sharp strands of his undercut, the delicate sweep of his hair, so pale it almost looks unreal. But you can see his nose wrinkle, disgust painted across his fine features as electric eyes skim the clutter of your apartment. The peeling walls, the cracked appliances, the mess of papers strewn across your table.

Gojo stops at the red string board, his gaze lingering on the photos and notes that have been painstakingly pinned up, and you see his mouth twitch. As though he's amused by your conspiracy, your obsession, your silent war.

"It's really always about me, isn't it?" Gojo's tone carries the faintest edge of mockery, that damn entertained smile curling the corners of his petal-pink lips.

Your jaw tightens, a flash of anger rearing up inside you. You tear your gaze away from him, "Why are you here? Got no-one to fuckin' torture over at Vought?"

Gojo sighs, almost theatrically, and he's puffing his cheeks out. As though he's bored, like this is a mild inconvenience for him, "So, you're going on a trip tomorrow, huh?"

You track his gaze to the napkin still resting on the table, the address scribbled carelessly across its surface, "What's it to you?" Hoping that your voice is level, and as neutral as it can get.

Gojo Satoru doesn't quite answer immediately. Instead, he pulls off those thick blue gloves, one finger at a time. His hands are oddly elegant, but you know just how capable they are of ending a life in a second, how capable they are of tearing a throat out without breaking a sweat. The very same hands now tuck the gloves into the bronze-metal band of his belt with an almost unsettling level of care.

"Well, I'm just hurt you're going somewhere without me," Gojo quips slyly, "We could have had ourselves a little road trip, sweetheart. Thelma and Louise on the open road, eh?"

You don't say anything, although you're dying to mention how Thelma & Louise ends. Gojo just rolls his searing-blue eyes skywards dramatically, as though he's used to your stubborn attitude.

"Y'know, I could jus' pull you apart, limb by limb," Gojo tacks on casually, "Make you tell me where you're going."

You can feel the tension in your gut tighten, but you refuse to let the Supe catch onto it, although you have no doubt that his superhuman senses can hear the beat of your heart pumping, every hitch in your breath.

"Nah," you bite back, "That'd be worthless. Victim always goes into shock. You gotta' start small. Fingers, nails, ears..." Your voice trails off, calling Gojo's bluff, forcing your words out as if the prospect doesn't shake you.

Gojo's vibrant, jewel-tone stare doesn't break, but the amusement in his eyes sharpens like iron against a whetstone. "It could be a matter of national security, you know," he murmurs, "I have a duty to protect his nation, to weed out any enemies of the state."

You huff in weary, mock exasperation, dragging a hand over your chin in faux-contemplation, "Look, uh, I don't mean to be rude, but can we just skip to the part where you laser my fuckin' brains out?"

Gojo just swears under his breath, "Oh, for fuck's sake," he's muttering, side-stepping around your rickety table, stepping closer as an almost fond smile tugs at his lips, "Where's the fun in that? Come on, look at ya'. It'd be like putting down a wounded dog?"

You don't flinch, you refuse the possibility. But there's that pulse of heat, low in your spine, when Gojo leans into your space. An electric storm about to crack wide as he studies you, eyes falling to the table where your cards are laid out blatantly, and you jolt. Remembering the innocuous little thing, that USB. The one that could very well be his undoing.

"What do you have on me, doll?" Gojo drawls, his voice smooth and untempered, towering over you like an impossibly magnetic force. You hold your ground as his eyes widen, "You do have something, I presume?"

With slow precision (and trembling fingers), you lift the USB, dangling it between your nails as Gojo's eyes flicker for a split second. Amused smile slipping just enough to show something that's less calculated. As though he knows what you grasp, what you're capable of.

Gojo's expression hardens for a split moment, blush-pink lips parted as he watches you, drinks in the sight of you gredily. All before cold steels locks into place once more, his demeanour laced with something far more callous, like a man cornered who knows exactly how to strike back.

"Go ahead. Release it," Gojo steps closer, until you can feel his breath against your skin, and you catch the tang of iron and clean, expensive leather. "Let's light this candle, huh? I mean, sure, I'll lose everything, doll. But then, I'll have nothin' to lose." His voice is quiet, but there's unmistakable malice beneath it.

"First, I'll take out the nerve centres. The seat of the government, the High Courts. Then, any domestic defense capabilities. Critical infrastructure, cellular, Internet, all of it. And then?" Gojo pauses, teeth catching onto the plush flesh of his lower lip.

"Then, I'll just wipe this city right off the fuckin' map, for fun," Gojo adds, a dark smile curling at the edges of his lips, "Hell, I'll throw in that little town your friend's from. Kento, right? Nanami, from the office? Because, why not?"

Gojo's lips brush the shell of your ear, and you resist the urge to shiver, locking your eyes with his own defiantly, venomously as he continues, "See, sweetheart, I'd prefer to be loved. Y'know, as the strongest, I really would. But if you take that away from me? Well, being feared is A-one, okey-doke by me."

Gojo wants you to challenge him, to hear you break the silence with something other than terror, "So, doll," he murmurs, practically cooing, "Go ahead. Do it." His lips curl, sharp fangs poking out from his glossy, red mouth, "No? You don't wanna? Well, then, I'd say you have absolutely no fuckin' leverage. Because I am the strongest, and I can really do whatever the fuck I want."

You blink angrily, breath catching as Gojo watches you with an almost affection gleam in his eyes. As though he's enjoying this, this sparring match where he's got you pinned. So you swallow thickly, and deep down, you know he's right.

Gojo Satoru is unstoppable. He could easily turn on the world that worships him, props him up, and there's nothing anyone could do about it. No nuclear treaty, no tank nor fighter jet could stand a chance against Unlimited Void or Hollow Purple.

There's no undoing the seams and stitches that hold Gojo together. None, apart from...

Your eyes flicker downwards, instinctively, to the thick curve that bulges through the tight suit he dons. That mouth-watering, delicious bulge that's packed, and if Gojo steps any closer, it would jostle against your thigh.

You inch closer, smoothly, grasping at the stray strand of ice-white hair to tuck it behind Gojo's ears. His expression widening, raw and open for a split second as he shivers, purrs.

"Say I call your bluff, Gojo," you say coolly, "What are you gonna' do, right here, right now?" Your hand trails away from his ear, brushing the high, stiff collar of his suit. Fingers gently pressing into the warm flesh of his neck. You feel his pulse jump under your touch, staccato beats that hiccup along.

And you could have sworn that Gojo breathes out a gentle sigh, lips parting around the words, "Finally."

But his cerulean eyes are narrowed, jaw still clenched, as though he's trying to figure out your angle. Now, he truly does push closer to you so that packed curve brushes against your thigh. And it's big, larger-than-life, like everything about Gojo Satoru is.

Fuck this, you shake your head, as though you're tossing away your rationality. Reaching up to thread your fingers through soft, white hair. Pulling Gojo closer as he groans, closing the distance. Lips crashing against your own, forceful and desperate.

You can feel Gojo freeze, stutter as he seems to work through his shock. But then, something irrevocably shifts in him. Ocean-blue eyes fluttering close, so white lashes kiss his creamy skin. A large hand gripping at your waist, pulling you impossibly close.

It's rough, and messy — and your tongue lingers on the taste of something like espresso, and sweet, sugar syrup to boot. The creamy taste of Gojo Satoru that lingers on your tongue and makes your mouth water.

"Tch', you –" Gojo murmurs, as though all the air in the world has been stolen from his lungs, "You jus' don't k-know how long I've wanted this. Ever since you, heh, fired that bullet at me when we first met."

His tone is erratic, large hands splayed against the small of your back, pushing you further against the kitchen counter.

"That shit went right through ya' head," you breathe, struggling to stay steady against the hard plane of Gojo's form, the muscles curling into you, "Didn't do a fuckin' thing."

Gojo's giggling, giggling as though he's already drunk on your touch, so utterly dangerous. Tugging at your top, fingers spread wide over the curve of your chest. Flicking at the sharp peaks of your nipples, "Waste of a perfectly good round, eh, doll?"

The tips of Gojo's ears are a searing shade of crimson, as he's pulling and toying with your clothes. You have never, ever in your wildest and most illicit fantasies imagined Gojo Satoru like this.

You've never pictured him so obedient, so desperate to meld into your hold. Bright blue eyes glazed over, filmy and hazy as his cheeks are mottled pink.

The most dangerous man in the entire world (or so you'd wager) has you firm against the cracking plastic of your counter, with his lips finding home on whatever skin he can find. Kissing, bruising, sucking at the tender flesh in a way that you know will leave blooming marks.

"C-can I?" Gojo pleads, as though he hasn't spent a lifetime whispering quiet threats into your ear, but now his large hand is softly pressed against the back of your neck.

Slick-strands falling from his lips as he sips at your taste, sucking gently on your tongue.

He kisses you firmly with such force that it leaves you dizzy, and the way he strokes at your cheek with a bruised knuckle is far too tender for a man who's practically a walking, ticking bomb.

He's roughly cupping your tits, kneading at the soft fat and flesh, "Hah, pretty, aren'tcha?" Strands of snow-white hair tickling at your neck as Gojo leans his head down, wrapping his lips around your nipple, lickin' and sucking wherever he can reach.

You arch your spine, pulling Gojo even closer. Grinding your clothed core right up against the hard length taut in that damned suit. Feeling every inch brush up against you.

"F-fuck," Gojo murmurs, slurring out babble and praise out through his kiss-swollen lips. You're slowly rocking your hips back and forth, unintentionally honestly, but you're desperate for some friction to relieve the ache that's blooming within your searing groin.

The pads of his fingers are tilting your jaw at the perfect angle, swollen lips sticky against yours, "Just like that," Gojo grunts, running his pink tongue over the kiss-bitten flesh of your own mouth, "N-not so mouthy now, are we?"

But then, because you think Gojo Satoru is unable to go even a second without antagonising you, the white-haired man is lifting his head. Glossy eyes tearing over your apartment as he pulls an unimpressed face, "Damn, this place is kinda' a dump. You really live like this?"

Your fingers latch onto the stray strands on his head, bucking your hips into his bulge harsher, "Says the cunt who made me a fugitive."

Gojo shakes his head, making a faint pshh, dismissive sound as he scoops you up, biceps not even curling to strain as he roughly stomps towards your meagre, thin bed. Laying you flat on the flat mattress as he rumples the waistband of your pants, hooking his thumb underneath the fabric.

You don't even realise it at first, but you're admiring those razor-sharp, strikingly handsome features. Watching as Gojo tugs at his cape, rough and coarse until the fabric tears away from his shoulder plates — until the azure stars and stripes end up on the wooden floor discarded.

"So, doll, how exactly do ya' want me? " Gojo titters, gently pulling a finger into the flimsy cotton of your panties. You can see his nose twitch, eyes flutter shut for a split second as he visibly reels from the messy, filthy slick pooling under his nails. You can only groan, arching at the sudden stimulation as he begins to crook his fingers faster against your folds.

You suddenly pull your thighs taut together, clenching the flesh to trap his hand, "Taste me, Gojo." Breath shuddering as Gojo's fingers suddenly still, ice-blue eyes blown wide at your gall to give him a command.

But he's always been an excellent soldier, hasn't he? Because he seems to be moving on autopilot, pulling his dripping fingers away and gently lolling his tongue on your translucent sheen, "Hah, I can't believe you're g-giving me orders." Gojo almost whimpers at your sweet tang, desperate to have your pussy drool into his waiting mouth.

"M-more, can you – oh, fuck," You inhale sharply, feeling Gojo's fingers imprint on your thighs, firmly spreading your legs apart so he can shuffle further back, his breath moist against your wet cunt, "Heh, never thought you'd ever be like this."

Gojo gives you a flat look, the underside of his eyes crinkling as he stares at you, "Don't get used to t-this." He's grumbling, but his eyes are blown wide, tongue darting out of his mouth to catch a stray drop of your precious arousal dribbling down your inner thigh, "It's just 'cause –"

You don't give his smart-alec mouth time to formulate any words, groaning as you pull at the thick, soft and tousled strands of white hair. Letting the tip of his sharp nose nudge against your clit as Gojo suddenly muffles a desparate, thirst-laden whine, "Mhm, mhm, fuck!"

"Yeah, y-yeah," You breathe, sighing in relief as he presses his tongue flat against your pussy, laving thickly at the glossy folds that he's desperate to munch at, "That's what I thought."

Stifled sounds prick at your ears, a mantra of words falling from Gojo's mouth, something that sounds suspiciously like "Thank you, t-thank you, thank —." The strongest man in the entire world losing his mind, so grateful to wrap his lips against your swollen bud, your throbbing clit as he sucks. Hard.

Your walls clench suddenly, and you can feel the tip of Gojo's tongue prod at your entrance. That length somehow managing to render you gummy, dazed and speechless as he pushes the wet muscle into your cunt, "Ah, ahh, 'Toru, please."

Nothing prepares you for how Gojo's long, slender fingers come to slap at your pussy. Lengthy digits pistoning right into your tender, sensitive walls as he's eager to curve and search for that sweet spot that will make you scream, "What'dya call me, sweets? 'Toru?"

Gojo's looking up at you, and if you didn't know better, you'd say his expression was almost shy. Those eyes, blue like the core of a searing star, like something inhuman was barely contained and desperate to break free. There's something eerie about how bright they are, how they seem to glow even in the dim, murky light of your apartment.

There's glossy, snapping strands of Gojo's new favourite thirst-quencher falling from his lips as he laps at you. Long lashes fluttering against high cheekbones as there's a slight sheen of exertion beading at his temple, "If, if I had known that all I had to do to shut ya' up was eat you out, then —" Gojo whistles low, the vibrations echoing through your cunt, "Woulda' drank this pussy a longgg time ago."

You buck your hips against his nose, canting against his shapely nose bridge, "Don't get c-cocky." Seems that Gojo's just that desperate for you to boss him around, because he's already turning his attention and bratty mouth back to your cunt, licking you right up until he's certain you're seeing stars.

He's still got his suit on, broad-shoulders snugly wrapped in the textured fabric. Sculpting over his bicep even as he draws you even closer, until he's face to face with his new, second favourite girl. With you being his number #1, of course, Gojo isn't afraid to admit that you plotting to kill him has turned him on immensely over the years.

The idea of you planting your thighs around his head 'til he's devoid of air has had him pulling and jerking at his cock, whimpering until he was shooting blanks.

"Come on," and Gojo's snickering at his own play on words, "Or s-should I say c-cum on." Smacking his lips filthily against your folds, fingers pushing at your clit and rubbing furious circles over and over again until you feel the world go blank, and you're star-struck.

Gojo's whispering sweet nothings, adoring praise into your cunt as you ride out your high against his face, "Pretty girl, s-so good for me, heh. Think 'm fuckin' addicted."

You're already lazily pulling yourself up, propping yourself back on your elbows as you take in the sight of a teary-eyed Gojo Satoru. You watch as he pulls himself up, frame towering over you in the flimsy bed as he tugs and paws at the thick, firm bulge in his suit. Now darkened with a translucent patch of his release.

Gojo's fisting his hand over his cock in some ineffective form of relief, "Wanna' show you, g-gorgeous, wanna' show you how the strongest fucks."

But then, his eyes are looking up, wide and superhuman. Searing blue that lights up the dim room like a torch, and it's only then you notice that the lightbulb that once precariously teetered from your ceiling has shattered, and there's a crack in the large window that you swore you've never seen before.

And clutched within Gojo Satoru's fingers, shards of silver metal and blue chips. Fuck, that hag, that doped-up cunt must have had that USB clenched between his fingers the entire time, swiping it off the table when you pulled him in.

"Don't look at me like that, sweetheart," Gojo scoffs, pulling out a cock that beams with an angry, red mushroom tip. Thick spurts of cum already clinging to the slit as he hisses, and your thighs clench in anticipation of the delicious split, "I got something b-better for you right here."

[wonderlandcrown]

IM SO GLAD I WAS BLOWDRYING MY HAIR WHEN I SAW THIS BC I ACTUALLY STARTED SQUEALING AND GIGLINH AND AJAJMAMXKDOEPWOWKQ💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Mugler vil

[gojosoups]

cw: yandere!Gojo, revolutionist!Gojo, royalty au, mentions of sexual relationships, unhealthy behavior, manipulation/coercion, blood, death, abuse of power, gaslighting, toxic relationships, possessiveness, and jealousy. not proofread lol

a/n: I had this idea come to mind when I was cleaning lol, might make this into a mini series, like 4-5 chapters? this was in my drafts for a while, but it went through some VERYY heavy editing

a/n 2: imma kms and everyone for not telling me I spelt coronation as coordination 😭😭😭

Gojo Satoru who's been obsessed with you since childhood, the kingdom's beloved princess and heir in line for the throne. Betrothed to another, a man of the neighbouring kingdom for the sake of diplomacy,

Gojo Satoru—your shadow, your other half—your best friend since childhood, trusted with your life by your parents. Gojo Satoru, a mere servant, and yet he was entirely yours to serve.

The years passed, and what was once an innocent friendship blossomed into something more. Childhood years that were spent in the same bed, throwing sleepovers and tossing feather pillows at each other were now spent with longing glances, shared whispers, and stolen touches beneath the very same sheets.

But of course, no one could know.

The King and Queen would never allow it—their pride and joy, the heir to the throne—lusting after a mere servant? Unbelievable. After all, you were a princess, meant for greatness, beyond whatever a mere palace worker could offer you.

And yet, behind closed doors, your secret was kept safe.

Behind closed doors—you were his. Each day began in his arms, and each night was spent in his arms.

In the eyes of the court, both of you kept up the act.  

Gojo who kept you busy during galas, an arm wrapped around your waist, guiding you towards the ballroom, away from the prying eyes and hands of the men. Meanwhile you, just as possessive of your lover, who kept the female servants busy and as far away from him, because even if he were a mere servant, he certainly was a sight for sore eyes across kingdoms. 

Of course, this secret would not last forever. 

Not when the king and queen, bless their old souls and frail bones, had dreams of grandchildren running around the floral grounds of the palace. Not when they announced your coronation and engagement in front of the whole kingdom. 

While the kingdom rejoiced, streets bustling with excitement as preparations began, that night, you wept in the arms of your lover, crying for your untold future as he held you close. Sobbing into his chest, gripping onto him like he was the only thing you knew. He held you tighter, soothing you and whispering sweet promises in your ear. 

Promises he intended to keep. He would never let you go.

Overnight, the kingdom was taken down.

Your so-called in-laws never made it past the palace gates. Their carriages left abandoned at the border, the once-pristine gold and polished wood torn down. And not a single soul in sight—only a trail of blood leading into the depths of the wood. Yet no one said anything.

Not when the crown was placed atop Gojo Satoru’s head. Not when he took his rightful place on the throne and the kingdom could only bow.

Your parents—silenced with a mere look—could only watch as they were exiled, sent far away from the imperial palace, and kept under his watchful eye. 

After all, how could they object? 

He gave them everything they wanted. 

A kingdom. A legacy. And above all, an heir with eyes as blue as his. 

And he would never let them—or anyone—take you away from him again.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐒 — do not copy, translate, repost or modify my works on any platform.

[mnightseoul]

Welcoming Noona back ( Karina x Male Reader )

tags: blowjob, handjob, quickie, incest

As the old family car pulled into the driveway, the sound of the engine grew louder, resonating through the walls like a beacon announcing her homecoming. Your mother rushed to the door, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, while your father, stoic but smiling, took a moment to compose himself. You watched from the stairs, the memories of her departure still vivid in your mind—the way she had looked back at you with a promise etched into her gaze, the gentle kiss she had placed upon your forehead. You had been so young, so unsure of what the future held for both of you.

The door swung open, and there she was—Karina, your beloved Noona, her eyes scanning the room as she searched for you. Time had been kind to her; she had blossomed into a woman of poise and confidence, yet the warmth that had always radiated from her remained unchanged. She stepped into the house, her suitcase rolling behind her, and in that moment, the years of separation melted away. She saw you, frozen on the stairs, and her eyes lit up with an unmistakable spark of joy.

With a gasp, she dropped her bag and rushed over, her arms outstretched. You descended the stairs, your legs feeling lighter with each step, until you were in her embrace. She squeezed you tightly, her grip a reassurance that she was real, that she had truly come home. The warmth of her body washed over you, bringing a sense of comfort that was both new and familiar. Your hearts raced in unison as you felt the years of longing and missed moments compressed into a single, powerful hug.

Her voice, though a touch more mature, remained the gentle melody that had sung you to sleep countless times. "I've missed you so much," she whispered into your ear, her voice thick with emotion. You felt the sting of tears in your own eyes, and you realized just how much you had missed her too. The house was alive again, filled with the love and presence that had been missing for far too long. As you pulled back, she held your shoulders and studied your face, taking in every detail that had changed since she last saw you. "You've grown up," she said with a laugh, her eyes shimmering with happiness. "You're not a little kid anymore."

The evening passed in a blur of stories and laughter, each shared memory weaving a tapestry of the life she had missed. Your mother had prepared a feast to welcome her back, and the table groaned under the weight of food that held the flavors of home. You listened, rapt, as she regaled the family with tales of her adventures abroad—the exotic places she had seen, the incredible people she had met, and the challenges she had overcome. Her eyes danced with excitement, and you found yourself enveloped in her narratives, eager for more.

As the night grew late, your parents retreated to their room, leaving the two of you alone in the living room. The fireplace crackled in the background, casting a warm glow across the room. Karina leaned back into the cushions of the sofa, a contented sigh escaping her lips. "It's so good to be home," she said, a wistful look in her eyes. You nodded, unable to find the words to express just how much her return meant to you.

The silence that followed was comfortable, a testament to the unbreakable bond you shared. Yet, there was so much left unsaid. The years had brought changes not only to the both of you but to the world around you. You had grown, and she had too—but you hadn't been there to witness it. The curiosity in her gaze suggested she felt the same. "So, tell me," she began, her tone a gentle coax, "what's new with you?"

You took a deep breath and started from the beginning—your first day of high school, the friends you'd made, the heartaches you'd endured, and the moments of triumph that had filled the pages of your life in her absence. She listened intently, her eyes never leaving yours, nodding at all the right moments, her smile widening at the tales of joy and narrowing at the moments of pain. It was as if she was living it all through you, experiencing the growth and evolution of your soul.

As the fire dwindled to embers, casting long shadows across the floor, you found yourself opening up about the things that had truly changed you—the quiet moments of introspection, the late-night thoughts that had kept you awake, the realizations that had shaped who you were today. Karina's hand found yours, her grip firm and reassuring. She had always been the one to listen, the one to understand without judgment, and you felt the weight of those years lift from your shoulders.

Her short hair had been cut in a sleek, chic style that framed her face beautifully, and it made her look more mature, more like the woman she had become. The way the light danced across her locks made you realize just how much she had grown during her time away. Her body had matured as well, filling out in ways that made you realize she was no longer the older sister you had known, but a woman in her own right. You couldn't help but admire her, the way she carried herself with such poise and grace, the way she had embraced her newfound beauty.

As you sat there, sharing stories of your separate lives, your eyes kept straying to her, taking in every detail. The way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the curve of her neck, the swell of her breasts beneath her shirt—you hadn't noticed these things before. Your cheeks grew warm, and you felt a stirring in your pants that you hadn't expected. Panicking, you shifted your position, hoping she hadn't noticed your sudden erection. You coughed awkwardly, chalking it up to your teenage hormones playing tricks on you.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern etched into her features.

You nodded, trying to shake off the sudden rush of feelings. "Yeah," you managed to say, your voice a bit hoarse. As the night went on, you both continued to share stories trying to catch up the last 4 years you hadn't been together.

The next few days passed in a whirlwind of family gatherings, catching up with old friends, and helping Karina get reacquainted with her old room. Each time she walked by you, the faint scent of her perfume would waft in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. You found yourself stealing glances at her whenever you could—the way she moved, the way she laughed, the way she bent over to pick something up, giving you a glimpse of her cleavage. Each time, you felt a twinge in your crotch, a feeling that was both new and confusing. You knew it was wrong—she was your sister, after all—but you couldn't help it.

One evening, as the house was quiet and your parents were out, Karina had decided to go out with her friends to celebrate her return. The moment she stepped out the door, you felt a strange mix of relief and excitement. You had been wrestling with these newfound feelings all week, and now you had the house to yourself—and her room just a few steps away. The temptation was too much to resist. You tiptoed down the hall, your heart racing as you approached the door to your older sister's room. With trembling hands, you turned the knob and slipped inside.

Her scent filled the air, a potent cocktail of her favorite perfume and the faint musk of her skin. It was intoxicating. You walked over to her laundry basket, feeling a thrill of illicit excitement as you rummaged through the fabric. Your hand brushed against something soft and lacy—her underwear. You pulled out a pair of her panties, the fabric a whisper in your hands. They were still warm from her body, and as you held them up to your face, you inhaled deeply. Her essence was intoxicating, a sweet, heady scent that sent your senses reeling. Your cock grew hard in your pants, and you knew you couldn't stop yourself anymore.

With trembling hands, you pulled your cock out of your pants and began to stroke it. The fabric of her underwear against your nose was like a siren's call, guiding your hand to pump faster and harder. You could almost feel her body pressed against yours, her breath hot and heavy in your ear. Each stroke brought you closer to the edge, your thoughts consumed by the vision of her laying in her bed, her legs spread, and those very panties discarded on the floor. You didn't know why you felt this way, but you couldn't ignore the desire that was building in you like a storm.

Suddenly, the door to the room swung open, and you froze. Karina stood there, her eyes wide with shock. She had forgotten her phone and had come back to grab it. You had been so lost in your own lustful reverie that you hadn't even heard her come in. She took in the scene before her—you, standing in her room, sniffing her panties, your cock in hand, stroking it with a fervor that spoke of a hunger that was no longer hidden. The color drained from her face as she took a step back, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

You stared at her, your eyes locking onto hers, and in that moment, the reality of the situation crashed down on you like a ton of bricks. You had been caught in the most intimate of acts, betraying the trust she had placed in you. The silence was deafening, the air thick with tension and embarrassment. You didn't know what to say, what to do—apologize, explain, or simply run away.

But before you could utter a single word, she spoke, her voice low and measured. "I'll talk to you later," she murmured, her eyes never leaving yours. She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to grab her phone from the nightstand. You watched as she took a deep breath, her breasts rising and falling with the effort of controlling her emotions. Without another glance at you, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, her shoulders rigid with tension.

The wait for her to come home was agonizing. With each tick of the clock, the fear grew stronger—what would she do when she returned? Would she tell your parents about the sick, perverted act she had just walked in on? Would she be so disgusted that she'd stop talking to you, erase you from her life like you were nothing but a stain on her perfect existence? Your mind raced with the worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last. You had to talk to her, to explain, to make her understand that it wasn't what it looked like. But how could you when the truth was so much more twisted than any lie you could concoct?

As the midnight hour approached, the sound of the front door opening sent a jolt of terror through your body. You sat up in bed, your heart racing like a wild stallion in your chest. The soft patter of footsteps grew louder as they approached your room, and you braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation. The doorknob turned, and there she was—Karina, she stepped inside closing the door behind her with a firm click that echoed through the silent house.

Her makeup was slightly smudged from the night's festivities, and her hair was a bit disheveled, but she was still as breathtaking as ever. She was dressed in a tight mini-skirt and a low-cut top that showcased her ample cleavage. You tried to avert your gaze, but it was as if your eyes were magnetically drawn to her. She hadn't even changed from her night out, a fact that made your face burn with even more embarrassment. She sat down on the edge of your bed, her eyes never leaving yours, and you felt the weight of her stare like a physical force pressing down on your chest.

"What were you doing with my underwear?" she asked, her voice calm but firm. You stuttered, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation, but the words remained lodged in your throat. The room felt like it was closing in around you, the walls seeming to whisper accusations of your perversion.

You stayed silent, a couple minutes go by as you had your eyes down staring at your bed while you felt the intense stare that was coming from her. Your cheeks burned with the weight of her gaze, and you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

"Look at me," she said, her voice a soft command that you couldn't ignore. You slowly lifted your eyes to meet hers, expecting anger or disgust, but instead, you found something else. A flicker of curiosity, perhaps a hint of understanding. "Did you at least get off on it?" she asked, her question cutting through the tension like a knife.

You felt your face flush even hotter at the directness of her words. "N-no," you stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I was too panicked to get hard again after you walked in." The admission was like ripping a Band-Aid off a fresh wound, exposing the raw vulnerability of your situation. You held your breath, waiting for her reaction.

Karina sighed, a long, slow exhale that seemed to carry the weight of the world with it. "Look, you're at that age," she began, her voice filled with a resignation that made your stomach drop. "It's natural for you to be curious about sex, but you could've just watched porn instead of…you know, earlier?."

You nodded, feeling the knot in your throat tighten. "But it's not just that, Noona," you blurted out, the words tumbling from your mouth before you could stop them. "It's you. I couldn't help it. You're just…something else."

Her eyes searched yours, looking for the truth behind your words. You watched as the gears in her head turned, trying to process what you had just admitted. And then, she rolled her eyes—a gesture that was so Karina, so familiar, that it almost brought a smile to your lips despite the tension. "Don't tell anyone," she whispered, her voice low and serious.

"Now, lay down and take your cock out," she instructed, her tone firm but not unkind. Unsure what to do you did as she said, laying back on the bed, your heart hammering in your chest. You pulled down your pants and boxers, your erection springing free, pulsing with anticipation. She moved closer, her hand reaching out to touch it tentatively. You sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, your eyes never leaving hers.

Her grip grew more confident as she stroked you, her hand moving up and down with a gentle rhythm that belied the taboo nature of the act. "It's just this one time," she whispered, almost to herself, as if trying to convince herself as much as you.

The sight of her hand wrapped around your cock was almost too much to bear—it was a vision you never thought you'd see, a moment that existed only in the darkest corners of your fantasies. You watched in awe as she touched you, her eyes flickering down to watch the motion before meeting yours again. She bit her bottom lip, a gesture that sent a jolt of electricity straight to your groin. You couldn't help but stare at her tits, which were straining against the fabric of her top. The way they moved with each breath she took was hypnotizing.

Her hand grew more confident with each stroke, and you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge. The feeling was overwhelming—like nothing you had ever experienced before. And then, as if reading your mind, she reached up and pulled down the neckline of her shirt, revealing her tits still covered in nipple tape.

The sight was too much for you to handle. "Oh, fuck," you groaned, your hips bucking upward.

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't stop. Instead, she leaned closer, her breath hot against your skin. "You like that?" she murmured, her voice a seductive purr that sent shivers down your spine. You nodded frantically, unable to form coherent words as she began to peel away the tape. The moment her nipple was revealed, you felt yourself on the precipice of climax.

With a sly smile, she leaned in and took your erect cock into her mouth, her warm wetness enveloping you in a wave of pleasure so intense it made your toes curl. You moaned, your hands reaching up to cup her face, your eyes squeezed shut as she took you deeper, her tongue swirling around the tip. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of relief and pure, carnally-driven ecstasy. You felt your orgasm building, your hips moving in time with her mouth.

Her hand found your balls, gently squeezing and massaging as she took you deeper still, her throat working around your length. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, tightening like a spring ready to snap. "Noona," you whimpered, the word slipping out on a gasp.

Karina's eyes locked onto yours, and in that moment, you saw something new in them—desire. It mirrored your own, a reflection of the passion that had been kindled between you. She pulled back slightly, her lips glistening with your precum, and whispered, "Do you want to cum for me?"

You nodded, unable to believe this was happening. You had always loved her, but never in this way. It was wrong, you knew it was wrong, but it felt so incredibly right. She took you back into her mouth, her movements more deliberate now, her eyes never leaving yours. The connection was palpable, a silent agreement that for this one night, you would share a secret that could never be spoken aloud.

The pressure grew unbearable, your hips jerking involuntarily. She moaned around your cock, the vibrations sending you over the edge. You felt yourself let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You came hard, spurts of hot cum filling her mouth, the taste of your release coating her tongue.

Karina pulled away, a string of your cum connecting her mouth to your cock. She licked her lips, savoring the taste before standing up. She leaned over and grabbed a tissue from the nightstand, handing it to you without breaking eye contact. "Clean up," she said, her voice firm but not unkind.

As you wiped yourself off, you couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and anxiety. What had just happened? You had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed, and you weren't sure how to feel about it. But when you looked up at her, you saw something in her eyes that you hadn't seen before—lust, yes, but also a hint of affection.

"Thank you, Noona," you murmured, not knowing what else to say.

Karina just nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she sat back down on the edge of the bed. "It's okay," she said softly. "I get it. Just…don't do it again, okay? What if it was dad or mom that caught you"

You nodded emphatically, feeling a mix of relief and regret. "I'm sorry, Noona," you mumbled, your voice thick with emotion. "I won't. I promise."

As she got up from the bed, straightening her skirt and tucking her tits back in her shirt, you couldn't help but admire the way her body moved.

"Noona," you blurted out, your voice still shaky from the intensity of what had just transpired. "Could we… do this again?"

Karina paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She turned back to face you, the light from the hallway casting a soft glow across her features. For a moment, she looked contemplative, her gaze traveling over your naked body, lingering on your now-flaccid cock. Then, she sighed, a sound that was equal parts resignation and amusement. "I don't know," she admitted, her eyes meeting yours. "It's not exactly something I planned on doing, you know? I'll think about it"

And just like that, she leaves you in your room, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving you to ponder the weight of her words. You start getting hard again from her answer, the possibility of experiencing that intense pleasure once more too tempting to ignore. The memory of her mouth on your cock, her hand on your balls, plays on a loop in your mind. You lay there, the tension of the evening still hanging in the air, unsure of what to do with the raging desire that now consumed you.

[aturnoftheearth]

j2 divorce v1 was unmatched. the fact that it started with the news of the prequel and everyone pissed over john and mary’s “beautiful love story” only to devolve into jared padalecki having a full blown meltdown on twitter.com that very night. absolutely insane turnaround in terms of dash vibes. no one knew what to do we were checking for updates like a frantic intern at a news station during a national crisis. no one knew what was gonna happen next the tweets just kept coming. he called robbie a coward and then deleted it but not before we all screenshotted it. misha collins tweeted “love and miss you both” and everyone replied “who are you again?” and he hung his head and said “the ass leaker” before shutting up. eric kripke and jensen ackles had to tweet the next day about how they all had a good long chat and everything is good a la your parents sitting the kids down after they overheard the knockdown drag out fight they had in the other room and saying “we’re not getting a divorce sweetie, your dad and i are okay we promise” and some fans (j2 stans) tearfully nodded their heads and went to play trains while others sighed in frustration and mumbled “why can’t you just leave each other already” before skulking out of the room. misha collins filmed himself in a bathtub outside for attention.

[madamechrissy]

Took you Like a Shot

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

Summary- One VERY drunk encounter between your greatest rival ever - on your last day of college- leads to you being knocked up. Satoru Gojo, a fuckboy, fratboy, rich little jerk, has been a rival of yours since you all met in College, every damn grade you fought for he got with ease. He crashed every Sorority party you threw. The two of you are so infamous in your rivalry, your friend groups were rivals, and for some reason, life is playing some damn joke on you both. Now... you have to tell him the news - but how Satoru takes it surprises you. Can you both raise a baby together!? And do you even really know each other?

Contents/Warnings- gonna be flashbacks to the rivalry/that night, nerdjo but make him a fratboy, enemies to kind of begrudging partners, but then as the pregnancy progresses, they fall in love hehe (gojo is an idiot) - fluffy and smutty, MDNI -will have explicit sex etc- 4 parts (I THINK) in this chap- flashbacks of explicit sex with dirty talk, weed smoking (Satoru and his boys aha) mentions of sex, lots of humor, enemies to loversss- WC- this chap- 8k- art in the banner by Yuana on X

Playlist (so far)- Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyy <3

Chapter One

It had been an absolutely filthy night, that led to your doctor coming in and informing you three months later-

'You're pregnant'

You came in for a normal checkup, you're on the pill and you have no sex life, aside from one encounter almost three months ago. A filthy, questionable ass encounter with what so happened to be your former 'bully' - rich boy, frat boy, pretty boy, pretentious boy- Satoru Gojo.

For years, the two of you were rivals, not just academic either, since you were both top of your class all through college, but at everything. He'd hold your notebooks high and laugh at you, he'd try to ruin and crash every sorority event he could. Known as the Queen and King of the campus, you ran the rivaling Sorority to his Fraternity. The amount of times you all had gone toe to toe was literally notorious, even your best friends hated each other on your behalf, starting an entire war between you all.

You have no clue how it happened, still, how the two of you had the best sex of your life at that damn party, fueled by drinks but also something you'd never admit- you've always wondered. Hearing those stories about his... skills, seeing his perfect body and the way his pretty lips smirked so cruelly in your direction, even after all these years- how it all led to this moment.

'Hah, sweets, ya finally admit I'm good at something?' Satoru had murmured in your ear, while he'd had you bent right over some bed at some party- both of you were seniors in college on your last and final party, finally you thought you'd be rid of him, of this ass of a man. He was going to live the rich life, working for his family, and you were moving on to a whole different career.

'One t-thing... that's it...' You had cried out when his cock had shoved in so deep, making you cum all over him, his fingers gripping your hips while he'd pumped deeper and deeper, impossibly until he'd been right on your cervix. 'F-fuck!'

'Fuck... you had a pussy like this and we've been fighting!?' Satoru is whispering, resting his snowy locks against your neck, biting it with sharp teeth as you milk his cock. 'So greedy, huh?'

'S-shut up, mnh- just... keep... there, there shit!' Satoru had slammed right against your cervix, feeling you pulsing around him, it had been too good, too tight, too fucking wet, he'd paused then, looking at your arched ass, your skirt shoved over your hips. 'Keep g-going, please...'

'M'gonna cum, tho-she's too tight- shit can I?' 

Your drunk ass had said- sure. You're precise on that pill, every day your alarm goes off in the morning, you take it. How could...

"Pregnant!?" You repeat. Unbelievable. No fucking way. You...

"Yes sweetie I suggest prenatal and an ultrasound, hmm?" The nurse says so sweetly, as you feel sick to your stomach, which your hand goes down to touch.

Pregnant. With rich, notorious fuckboy Satoru Gojo’s baby- now you would have to tell him!?

Shit.

You take the results in a shaky hand, mind swirling as the doctor goes on and on, some crazy distant humming in your head, there’s no way, it can’t be. You’re literally starting your journalism career, thinking you’d maybe gained a few pounds from stress and ramen, the interning was absolutely brutal, you’re never regular on your periods, hence the birth control in the first place.

Running coffees here and there, grabbing this and that for everyone above you, but you were now officially hired, and you were making good money for once, finally able to pay down some of your pesky student loans and get a nice car. You worked hard for it, for everything, despite many thinking leading a sorority meant you came from money, you were a scholarship girl.

That’s a huge reason you and Satoru always clashed, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, easily acing every test that you busted your ass for, things came easy to him, you worked for it. Achieving the highest you could in your graduating class, the little shit that came to school hungover grinned right next to you, like a goddamn plague, and you hoped that finally he was gone for good.

What bonded two people like you now?

Well…

“Do you need to go over your options, hunny?” One of the nurses says, touching your shoulder with a gentle smile, you shake your head then, clearing your throat.

“I just need to… think.”

You’re pacing back and forth in your apartment, feet padding gently along the hardwood floor, cell phone in your hand, staring at the phone number that just got sent to you by Shoko. She was Satoru’s friend and yours, which was rare given the ongoing student warfare zone you all created. You’d texted her a simple- hey do you have Gojo’s number- not going into details.

How do you even tell him?

What do you say!?

You psych yourself up, finally dialing it, when he picks up the phone after the second ring, murmuring - “Hello.” God, even him answering what he assumes is a stranger is snarky.

“Um, hey.” Gojo pauses at the sound of your voice, faltering just for a moment, as his friends bounce a basketball around a court outside, he sits down on the bench, vivid images filling his head. “It’s-”

“Think I don’t know your annoying voice by heart, sweetheart?” You roll your eyes, sighing and plopping down on your couch.

“Yeah, well… I got your number from Shoko.”

“Need a second round? Should have guessed.” He’s gesturing to Suguru and Sukuna, who roll their eyes at him, and he puts his voice down an octave. “I could be convinced.”

“Jesus christ, Gojo.” You almost hang up, feeling your tummy tighten then, almost nauseous, realizing you had to talk to him. “Are you, I don’t know, um… free for lunch or anything?” You despise the words falling from your lips.

“Asking me on a date, huh? So bold, I like it.” Satoru winks now at his friend’s shocked expressions, muting for a moment, telling them it was you.

“No fucking way.” Sukuna says, Suguru snorts in laughter and Satoru just grins, unmuting you again.

“I guess I could be convinced.” He purrs out those words, chuckling. “Hmm, we could go to that nice place on Hollywood ave hmm? Perfect Sushi.”

Your tummy growls, but then you frown, remembering that Sushi is on your damn list not to eat, you curse internally, peering at this list of everything you should never do or consume, and it specifically says raw fish right there. “Do they have cooked Sushi there?”

“Pshh, you’re such a prissy ass, can’t eat raw huh? Didn’t mind it raw from what I remember.” You hate this man.

“You know what never-”

“Shit, I was just kidding.” He panics, thinking you hung up, hearing your irritated sigh then. “Yeah I think they do. Why do you even wanna hang out, ya wanna nag me in person?” He spins his basketball effortlessly on his finger, acting all calm, as if he wasn’t dying to be buried in your perfect pussy again. “Miss being bitchy to me so bad?”

God he wanted to have you on his face, have you sucking him, he wanted for so much more than you all got to do, drunken fingers and your muted cries as he’d had a big hand tight over your mouth. His cock twitches under his basketball shorts just remembering how slick and hot you were, god how you fucking felt gripping him so damn tight.

Satoru had felt you pulsing around him as he reached his arm around you, pressing his fingertips to your clit in circles, as you’re crying out against his palm, practically drooling against him. ‘There you go, cumming so easy f’me huh?’ he taunts, as his own eyes roll back, feeling your pussy drool against his hand.

‘Mnh!’ was all you managed to murmur against his hand, as he feels your gummy walls spasm around his cock, his blue eyes roll back at how perfect you feel, how long he’s dreamed of this.

‘F-finally got you to shut up, hmm?’ He taunts you, normally you’d have something smart to say, but not as he’s overstimulating your little clit, pulling it away as you damn near collapse on the mattress, your thighs shaking, he wants to kiss you so bad, but you’re burying your face, arching your ass.

‘F-fuck you, Gojo- ah!’

The memories are so vivid Satoru can barely calm his thoughts, hearing you say his name in that irritated little voice, the one that drove him insane from day fucking one, the moment he’d met you. Prissy little thing with so much to prove, he thinks you still feel that way, which the biggest secret Satoru had for you had almost spilled on that last drunken night, the night he was inside you was…

He's always wanted you, not that he'd ever admit that however.

Ever.

“Is like three okay?” You're interrupting his thoughts now, as he clears his throat.

“Three rounds?”

You’re scowling at the phone as you question your life’s choices at this very moment. “Three o'clock, my god, for lunch.”

“Sounds good, it gives us time later, to… you know.” You glare at the phone, unbelievable, he’s ridiculous! 

“Time for what?” Satoru chuckles at your high pitched question.

“Don't be shy, sweets, no need to pretend. I remember it all in vivid detail, every little bit.” Your cheeks heat up, hand clutching the phone tightly, trying to calm yourself and focus.

“Just lunch, that’s all I’m asking you for. Sounds good?”

“Want me to pick you up in my-”

“No, I'll meet you. Okay um…. Bye.” You hang up, breath coming quickly, you couldn't just tell him on the damn phone, this needed to be in person.

The thought of his pretty yet annoying ass presence damn near makes your head spin… would he think it's all a joke? Some scam to get with him or get money?

You're fucking terrified, standing and staring in the mirror, rubbing your tummy and frowning as you do. A damn baby… Likely raising it alone, knowing Satoru all these years, partying, insane and so immature. Even on the phone, he’s so damn cocky and self sure, that this must absolutely be what you want, to have him, as if you are over here pining away.

The sex was amazing to put it lightly, and sure if he was a decent guy, and not a fucking ass of a man, you’d have done it again, but the walk of shame that morning had been the most embarrassing day of your life. His little smirk after you woke up, plump lips too damn glossy for his own good, yawning and stretching half naked, cock already hard as he’d tapped his lap.

‘Another round, sweets? Come to daddy.’

You scoff even at the memory, at the audacity of fuckboi Satoru Gojo, you had run out so quickly he hadn’t had a moment to speak, and you swore to yourself never, ever again. Who cared if his cock was so big it hit places you didn’t know existed, and who cared if you’ve never felt that way, fuck you wish he actually wasn’t as good at it as he was.

Perfect at everything, infuriatingly, even fucking.

You get a text from the guy you were currently at least flirting with a bit here and there, the one you suggested going on a date, and then it all starts to hit, you’re pregnant and quite likely going to be some single mom. You couldn’t just go on dates, everything is completely different, maybe forever truly.

“Twenty Two year old single mom.” You grumble, sighing a bit as you text him you’re busy.

Busy.

*****

Satoru waits nervously at the restaurant, he doesn’t really do dates, he usually spends his time in the bedroom with a girl then runs right off. Shit, he’s never even gone without a condom before you, but when you’d said hurry up and put it in, who the fuck was he to tell you no? Not only had it felt superb, he never wanted to leave that perfect pussy.

Of course you would have the most perfect pussy.

You had to be the best at everything, all the time, didn’t you? Always competing for that top spot, but Satoru always just barely got past you, that .01% of that GPA, winning every contest over you always by just a tiny bit. From the moment you glared up at him and crossed your arms, he knew it, he had to do everything he could to win against your cute little ass.

Here’s the thing… Satoru never hated you, but he loves to say he does, you both say you do, or… well, said. Considering you slept with him and didn’t say a single word after, it’s not like he’s hard to find, but each of you actively refused to add each other on socials, though Satoru will admit he stalks your IG, you’re too fucking pretty not to do so, not that he’d ever like a post.

Once he accidentally did, god he wanted to be like those pathetic simps in your comments, but he’s not that, he’s Satoru Gojo. Women come to him, women come easy too, you of course were never one to come near him in that way, no you’d look at him getting smacked in the face on campus with a grin, vowing to your friends that you’d never be one of his conquests.

That night, though, it was like he lost himself, the most stupid, corny shit Satoru could think of, that last night of his freedom before being forced to take over his family’s business. You and everyone probably thought he wanted to, but of course he fucking didn’t, he didn’t want a part of the Gojo corporation in any way, shape or form.

Satoru felt lost, honestly.

Self sure, confident, conceited clearly, talking far too much shit and laughing, picking on you every chance he got, showing up to all your sorority parties in various stages of undress to lure your friends to him. He’ll never forget him, Sukuna and Suguru crashing your ABC party, wearing nothing but cut open beer boxes, and you so happened to have some white claw box made bikini.

God you’d been sexy, but when he stole all the attention? Oh he’s never seen you more mad.

Well no, he has.

Gojo loved to make you mad, because you’re so damn cute when your nose scrunches up, when your pretty eyes narrow, there was nothing like your huffs as you would cross your arms and shift your hips just so. And if there was anything Gojo was absolutely perfect at, amongst well damn near everything, it was making you absolutely furious.

Finally Satoru sees you, dressed in this pretty blue summer dress that juts out just a bit at the waist, making his heart race for just a moment at how pretty you are. It’s not like he forgot… but god. Are your tits bigger he wonders, or is he just obsessed with them, as always, looking too hard. Your cheeks are this beautiful color, your eyes so bright, like… some damn glow about you.

How corny is he lately.

He puts on a smirk as he leans back, waving with his fingers to gesture you over, and you look at him so damn seriously, sitting across from him, hands entwined together in front of you on the table for a moment, as you eye him carefully. “Gojo, um… how are you?’

Who the fuck is this girl in your body!?

You don’t nervously ask shit, you tell Gojo to fuck off, you glare or scowl while he smirks, what’s this… shy ass shit? He frowns a bit now, you exhale and slide off your purse, letting it sit on the seat next to you, he can’t stop staring at your lips, clearly bitten to fucking hell.

He tries to feign that he’s fine, that he hasn’t missed you, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. He missed your daily arguments on campus, he missed you being a total brat. He misses your scent, god that vanilla sugar body spray was haunting his very dream.

He acts as if he hadn’t died to hit you up, but he stopped himself. He couldn’t go that far, not with you, not with what you did to him, how you’ve damn near destroyed any game for himself any longer. That one night with you had sunk into him so deeply, he wishes it was just good pussy, and not whatever this was.

He’s jerked it off to you every fucking night since, to the point is damn dick doesn’t even work, he sure also wouldn’t admit that he can’t even fuck a girl because you were so good. Some evil witch that did something, it must be, he has at this point just given up trying, until whatever curse you gave him falls the fuck off.

But god you look good in front of him.

He should tell you, but instead he swipes a hand through his silky white locks and smirks right at you. “Missed me so badly, sweets?”

You roll your pretty eyes as the menu comes, smiling and thanking the hostess, a smile reserved for anyone in the world but him, even when he’d had you cumming all over him, you weren’t smiling. No, but you were drooling then.

‘Ah, look at you, so fuckin pathetic f’me, huh? Thought you hated me, sorority brat’ Satoru had huffed, as he’d fingered your cunt, curling inside of your slick walls, watching your pretty fucked out face. ‘Just from fingers?’

‘I do h-hate you- mnh!’ Your sparkly manicured nails dug into his broad shoulders as your tight walls convulsed around him, as he hit that spot that no man had ever found in a moment.

Perfect at everything, stupid Satoru.

‘Feel her, god she’s so desperate, huh?’

“Fuck you I- there, shit!’ you’d rolled your hips, grinding right on his hand, pussy drooling as you came from his fingers before he’d even put his cock inside you, and Satoru’s cock was leaking against his boxers, twitching as he pictures how perfect you’d felt around him. ‘Fuck you for being so g-good at that!’

‘Oh, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.’ He’d turned you then, whispering a ‘bend over, just like that, gonna be a big stretch, hmm?’

Satoru struggles to calm his memory, focusing on that sexy mouth of yours moving, realizing words are coming out of them, blinking to focus.

“How are you doing, Gojo?” You ask softly, always Gojo, you never called him Satoru, and he always called you sweets, short stuff, your last name, also never your first.

But he wanted to call you a lot of things, one of them being-

Stop that Satoru.

“I’m doing great, of course, miss me so much?” He teases, winking at you and sipping on the sickeningly sweet Shirley temple he’d had them buy, you just grab a water, hand flitting to your tummy for a moment. “You’re not sick are you?”

“No, not sick just… yeah we needed to talk. Is that okay?”

Satoru leans forward, raising a thin white brow. “You seem weird, everything okay?”

“Well… shit. I guess I’ll just say this. Um…” You tuck your hair behind your ear, looking out the window at the bustling city for a moment, before looking back at him. “Remember that night?”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do all this to have a repeat.” His hand comes to your thigh, and that’s when you curse this pregnancy, because your nipples tighten, your cunt gets hot and wet from that.

Fuck hormones.

You take a breath, glaring as you always do at Satoru, the only time you never had was when he’s had your face with a slutty O for your mouth, your eyes rolled back, nails gripping those sheets. You shove his hand off, hoping he couldn’t feel your heat that quickly, as your body responds stupidly in a damn sushi restaurant.

“It’s not that, it’s important. Can you ever be serious in your life!?” You say quietly, and it’s his turn to glare, taking his hand back, sipping his drink again.

“Well just spit it out. What is all this, then?”

“It’s… I… You…” Shit, if ever you needed a drink it was now, and you damn sure wouldn’t have one for a good six months or more.

“It’s… I…. You…” He mocks, and you stand then, so furious your heart is racing, snatching up your purse.

“Never mind, I should have known you’re-”

“Shit, just sit. Sorry. Okay?” He grips your delicate wrist in his big hand, and even that is wrecking you, against your better judgement and everything you feel. “I’m sorry, it seems… serious. Just sit down and spit it out.”

You sit back down now, shifting as you both make your orders, a thankful distraction. As the waitress leaves, you sigh. “I don’t want anything from you, first off, so don’t think that.”

“What?” He blinks in confusion.

“I don’t need help, I can do it myself.”

“Do what!?”

“But you have to know… it’s the right thing to do, to tell you.” You look up at the ceiling, gathering your thoughts.

“Is this… are you in love with me, because of how good it was? Shit, that’s okay baby, everyone-”

“I’m pregnant.”

“What!?” You just sit there, seriously staring, as he blinks, looking at fuller breasts, your damn glow, thinking of every dumb thing he’s heard. “You’re… by who?” He whispers, and you flush then, shifting in your seat, sipping more of your water, condensation cool on your hot palm, your skin is burning, heart is racing.

“I was on the pill, religiously, I swear, I never missed one. Shit, until I found out I never missed… I… never would have done it like we did if I knew.” You feel sick as he gapes at you, his pretty blue eyes bulging out damn near, his mouth dropped open. “I expect no help, no involvement, we’re young. I just-”

“This a joke, right?” You take another breath, hand gripping the glass, eyeing those around you all, engulfed in conversations.

“It’s not a joke.” He’s laughing now, smacking his thigh, and your jaw tenses as he does.

“It’s you and your damn friends, someone recording!? Hah-”

“It’s not a joke.” You clear your throat now, leaning in your purse and pulling out the papers, with your name, the results, watching his expression shift, brows drawing low, his jaw tense. “It’s only been you, no one else for an entire year.”

“A whole year?” He eyes you again, and you flush under his gaze, as his hands shake, hands you’ve never seen shake, hands that dribble basketballs, that tossed footballs, all with ease.

Hands that…

Fuck, don’t think of it.

“I’m not… I was too busy.” Besting Gojo, competing with Gojo, you had no time for shit with him, your anger at him shone so brightly it was hard to think about men. “As I said, you don’t need to pay for anything, this isn’t that conversation, this is just me letting you know. I’m keeping it.”

Satoru continues to blink at you, staring open mouthed, at your face, then your body, then back to your face, over and over, while the waitress brings out the food, smiling curiously at the two of you. Satoru doesn’t make a move to touch his food, running his hand through his now messy white locks again, as his mind spins.

“I know you’re wealthy, I don’t want you thinking I want some piece of it. I’ll take care of them alone, please don’t worry.” You touch your tummy, the motion making Satoru fucking feral in some way he can’t put together, just continuing to stare at you in utter shock as the sushi sits in front of the two of you. “I can leave, now, we don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” He murmurs finally, voice hoarse.

“Act like we are civil, act like we’re anything but college enemies, fucking rivals, not even friends. God I know you hate me, I know this was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” He whispers.

“Yes, for both of us. You don’t deserve your life uprooted, sure I can’t stand you, but this is my fuck up. I said those words…”

‘Cum in me, f-fucking cum in me, mnh…’ you’d arched your back, as his long fingers wrapped your throat, god he’d never felt anything like you.

‘Want me to fill your pussy s’good, huh lil brat?’ you just whine, muscles clenching on his cock, and he’d groaned in your ear then, shoving deep inside your drooly cunt. ‘Beg for it, then’

Oh, you had.

You hated him for it.

“It’s my fault, so don’t worry. But I wanted to be transparent, but I am… indeed, pregnant.”

“Pregnant, like, with a baby?” Satoru whispers, and You giggle then, for the first time since you found out, covering your mouth just a bit as he just stares.

“Yeah, a baby.”

“Mine…” His words send something through the both of you.

“Yours, but only if you want to be involved. I know it was a hate fuck, we’re young, we have lives-”

“You got a… like that scan shit set up?”

“Ultrasound?” He nods, nervously, hands clenching the table so hard you see the veins popping up through his thin skin. “I do, next week. I mean it is a couple months already, so I will see something, not like… the sex but…”

“Can I go?”

You blink in shock now. “You want to?”

“Yeah. I mean… why wouldn’t I?” He rubs the back of his neck, as the life he thought, the mundane one of following his damn family, of being a pawn in a bigger scheme, everything flashes.

It changes.

He’s scared shitless, but…

“I want to be involved. If you want me to be.” You blink back tears, but you fail, and if it’s one thing, Satoru Gojo has never seen his preppy ass Sorority rival cry, not fucking once.

He falters as those tears run down your cheeks, he leans over, hesitantly, the only physical contact aside from that fateful night was him shoving at you teasingly, or you smacking at him. Shit you all hadn’t hugged, you never even kissed aside from that night, sloppy and messy. But he doesn’t stop, until his thumb brushes your cheek, and you gasp.

“Shit I’m crying. Stupid hormones.” You huff now, swiping at your own eyes with shaky little hands. “You really wanna go?”

“Yeah if it’s cool?”

Satoru’s shocking you, the world tilts on its axis, like you’re having some insane dream. This can’t be real, can it? It’s fuckboi, frat boy Gojo, the man who goes through girls like they’re candy, the man who takes nothing serious, who has the world handed to him.

“Gojo, if you want to go of course you can, to any and all appointments, but you’re under no obligation, and please know I can cover the costs.”

“I know you’d never take my money, shit even if I offered, stubborn ass little brat that you are.” You manage a breathless giggle, the second one, realizing he is still brushing that thumb against your cheek, before he clears his throat. “So, tell me what day, I'll be there.”

“Yeah, are you sure? It will make it so… real, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now eat your cooked sushi, aren’t you like eating for two or some shit?”

You take your chopsticks with a shaky hand, exhaling. “I was reading, I think they are like the size of a pea maybe. But, this is yummy looking.”

“Gonna be a huge ass baby, shit.”

“Oh god!” You eye his lanky body, and he’s grinning, Satoru is grinning!? Shocking you further.

Maybe you don’t know him like you think?

“Tits are gonna get so big.”

Never mind.

*****

“An ultrasound!? A baby? Fuck…” Suguru Geto inhales the blunt, sucking the smoke into his lungs as Satoru nervously paces Sukuna and Suguru’s apartment, Satoru chose to live in his own place, closer to work. But he frequently gets shitfaced and crashes out at their place.

“Sounds fucking insane, shit.” Sukuna chuckles, as he’s hitting a bong, inhaling and exhaling, broad shoulders shaking as he coughs. “You look like you could use a hit or something.

“Before the ultrasound? Shit I need more than weed. I’m freaking the fuck out right now.”

“Imagine you as a dad though hah!” Sukuna smacks his thigh, as Satoru glares now, stopping his pacing while the music plays, the same music Satoru remembers doing keg stands and playing beer pong in togas to, only to now have the possibility of being responsible for a whole human being.

“Can’t even keep a plant alive, shit.” Suguru says in between laughs, and Satoru raises a white brow at the two of them on the couch.

“You two are so supportive.”

“Well shit, she said you don’t have to be involved, you can always just like… send money and shit? Do you really want a whole kid?” Sukuna asks, and Satoru takes a breath, pacing once more as he runs hands through disheveled hair over and over.

“Do I want a whole kid, no, I never even… I mean I figured eventually, as the Gojo heir, blah blah blah.” Satoru slumps in a nearby recliner, as Suguru hands him the blunt, frowning a bit now.

“You do need a hit. You’re young, it’s not time to give your family fuckin’ heirs yet, is it?”

“They’d probably be delighted.” Satoru rolls those cerulean eyes, inhaling the smoke into his lungs and leaning back, staring up at the ceiling, as the black fans above them swirl, moving the puffy clouds of smoke all around. His nostrils fill with the scent of the Sativa, wishing he could make sense of his thoughts. “Not delighted that it’s out of wedlock and unplanned.”

“Imagine her marrying you.” Sukuna and Suguru laugh loudly again, as Satoru hits the blunt again, not passing it.

“The fucks that mean?”

“She hates you. God I think more than anyone.” Suguru says, and Satoru smirks just a bit.

“She sure didn’t hate this dick.”

“Oh!” He’s slapping hands with his friends as Sukuna and Suguru start to make the most obscene gestures, while you call, and he shushes them quickly, trying to compose himself.

“Hello?”

“Gojo, hey. Um, ultrasound is in an hour, I’m heading out soon if you want to meet up?”

“Why don’t I have my driver pick you up?” He asks, and Suguru and Sukuna continue the gestures, making Satoru snort in laughter, the weed starting to enter his bloodstream.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just thought it would be more convenient in this traffic.” He shoots a wink at his friends.

“I mean… sure?” Satoru mouths yes, pumping his fist, clearing his throat now.

“It’ll be easier this way, alright send me your addy I’ll head out.”

“All right.” You just hang up, such a rude little thing. Satoru has changed your name to Sorority Brat in his phone for a good reason.

“What are you gonna do though, man?” Suguru murmurs thoughtfully, his dark violet eyes narrowed, clearly blitzed. “Gonna like… be with her?”

“Could cum in her whenever now.” Sukuna bursts out in laughter as Satoru glares at the two of them.

“Grow up…” They blink at him, then Satoru grins wide. “Nah, that would be a perk, because her pussy my god.”

They both scooch up, elbows on their thighs, avidly staring at Satoru now. “Details, man, it’s like the one girl you never told us about?” Sukuna asks.

“Because you’re in love.”

“Pshh, in love!?”

“Haven’t seen you with anyone since.” Suguru earns Satoru’s middle finger, as he puts out the blunt, stretching and earning their pouts.

“Bet she’s so good, though, all angry and shit, bet she’s a freak.” Satoru doesn’t even know if you’re a freak necessarily, but as Suguru agrees, he glares at them both, crossing his arms.

“This has been the worst pep talk in fucking history.”

“Shit, what’s your decision?” Suguru asks, and Satoru’s mind races, peeking at his watch now.

“I think I’ll make it when I like… see it?”

“Alright big Daddy, then if you decide to be involved we’ll be like… their uncles and shit.” Suguru says, and Satoru grimaces.

“God no, you’ll ruin my kid.”

“Fuck off now.” Sukuna starts hitting his blunt again, Satoru walks out away from them and spritzes cologne all along himself, he knows your prissy self never smoked weed, no you were a little goodie goodie. He thinks the only time he saw you drink was a little at parties, but never like that last night.

He remembers just looking at you asleep when he’d woken up, and the tenderness he felt when he had brushed your hair off your pretty face, and you’d stirred a bit. For a moment he felt his heart hammer in his chest, stone cold sober, seeing the bite marks he’d left on your delicate skin, feeling affection like he couldn’t describe, Satoru never felt that way.

He didn’t cuddle, he didn’t linger.

He ran out before they could wake up, he ran out like you did to him, perhaps he was a little nicer about it, though, you’d given no fucks when you darted out the damn door in a hurry. He had acted cocky though, full on hard just by the damn thought of your slick sticking to his cock, but instead of perhaps kissing you, he’d patted his lap and been a little shit.

He hated the recognition on your face, like he’d been a mistake, so he decided to shove you out of his brain, though he clearly failed.

Jogging down the stairs, he has his driver sent in your direction, and you get the text he’s there, stepping out in front of your little house, cute Satoru thinks, it’s small but it’s immaculate from the exterior. You have pink flowers and succulents all over the front of it when he steps out, eyeing your pretty dress, nerves starting to eat at him, but he puts on an easy smile.

“Ready to go see this little parasyte?’

“A what!?”

“Technically, it sort of is. Right, you’re like its host.” Your mouth is wide open, as you touch your tummy, and he curses. “Shit…”

“A parasyte, you’re calling our… I mean I guess my… the baby a-”

“I’m sure it’s a cute parasyte? It has a pretty host.” Satoru tries to put on the charm, the smolder, as you stare at him in shock.

Was it shocking, this was Gojo.

“Dear God.”

How’d you end up pregnant with this idiot’s baby?!

You slide into the car as you shake your head, and he covers his face, grimacing as he realizes he just told his… god what even were you, a baby mama!? That his baby was a… parasyte. Well, it is, and Satoru would typically just argue with you and let you know he’s correct and you’re wrong, but he keeps quiet, feeling you seething.

“Fire signs.” He mumbles, you look at him again.

“What?”

“You’re a fire sign, it’s why you’re so feisty. I am too, you know.” You relax just a bit, curiously.

“You believe in astrology?” You ask in shock, for as long as you’ve known Satoru Gojo, the two of you don’t really know each other.

“Baby I’m the most Saggitarius man there is.” You giggle again, fuck that’s three giggles Satgoru has counted, and how it lights up your already glowing makes him ache for you, suddenly realizing one of his long legs is brushing against you. Your warmth alone makes him throb, the vanilla sugar filling the space in the car.

“You certainly are the epitome of a Saggitarius. Don’t call me feisty, yuck.” You shove at him playfully almost, pausing a bit when you realize his body feels far too good against yours.

You may or may not have masturbated last night, and he may or may not have popped in your head, over and over. But, don’t worry, because Satoru has spent months jerking his thick length to the thought of you, not that either of you would admit that it may or may not have happened.

“This baby would be a fire sign.” You murmur then, letting your hand fall, and nervously fidgeting, Gojo’s long limbs take over so much of the car, as big as it is, Gojo’s always taken over everything, even apparently your senses.

“Would it?” He asks quietly, for once just a little serious it seems.

“Yeah, an Aries if it comes when it should.”

“So it’ll be a brat like you.”

“Psh, like you.” You roll your eyes, and the two of you fall into a bit of a silence, so much unspoken between you. “Do you know if…”

“That’s why I want to see. Make it real?”

You actually nod in understanding, surprising him then. “I get it.”

The ultrasound tech is rolling the wand over cold gel soon, as you’re embarrassingly propped up with your feet in stirrups, and Satoru stands to the side, glaring at the man who’s inserting this wand in you. He gets angry that he’s getting such a view, he doesn’t even think he saw you that much.

What he remembers…

Your pussy is very pretty.

You wince a bit as the doctor smiles up at you. “Tight muscles, huh?”

Satoru snorts in laughter, and you glare. “What!?”

“You are so tight.”

“Gojo!” You glare, and even the doctor laughs, also earning your scowl, which makes them both sober up.

“Sorry, Miss. Alright… relax, would you?” How do you relax as a doctor is shoving a wand in your coochie and your enemy, who got you pregnant somehow, is turning red holding in his lewd thoughts!? “Look at the screen.”

You and Satoru both look over now, your breath catches then, as does his, when the doctor begins to tap keys on the keyboard, and you hear it for the first time, this little… heartbeat. It’s a heartbeat.

“There it is, congratulations you two. About… ten weeks?” You’re enamored as you stare at the screen, and he moves the wand inside you. “Look there, that’s the little baby.”

Baby.

A baby.

It’s all real.

Satoru’s completely silent as tears fill your eyes, a myriad of emotions, some that you’re so connected already to a little peanut inside you, some that you don’t know how you’ll do this, some of your life. How will it alter, how will it go, what will people think… and what does the man next to you think? What will he do!?

But overwhelmingly as you feel yourself begin to cry, and the screen turns off, you feel warmth spread, touching your tummy in wonder, there’s a damn baby in your body. Your baby. Something you never considered or thought of, you figured much, much later in life, not now.

And you’d likely be…

Alone in this.

“I’ll go get a picture printed for you two.” The doctor smiles kindly, as you’re left alone, with a for once silent Satoru Gojo.

You hesitate to look at him, a stunned expression on his face as you sit up, closing your legs and biting your lower lip, he finally looks at you and exhales, seeing your tear streaked cheeks. A girl he never knew to cry or giggle has done both, and a man you never thought to be serious or quiet… was.

“Satoru um…”

“Satoru?” He asks quietly, and you flush.

“Sorry…”

“No, I don’t mind, just… crazy. This is crazy. There’s a whole life inside you!? And we made it?” You sigh, nodding then, and he shocks you as he leans down, as you’re sitting in the bed, coming so close to you, eyes swirling storms of emotions.

“You can back out now, it’s okay. I won’t put this on you, keeping it is an insane idea but… it feels right to me?” He tilts your chin up, leaning closer, to where you can taste the sweetness of his breath, as your heart pounds right in your chest. “But if you’re backing out, do it now, it will hurt… fuck it will hurt more if you get too involved, okay? Do it now.”

“I’m not backing out of shit.” You gasp, and he exhales, wiping your tears away. “We both did this. I’ll not live in some world knowing my baby is raised with no help of mine in any way, fuck that.”

“But you-”

“I get it, we… aren’t… together. But in this I will be.”

“Satoru, I think I may have a cardiac arrest  before I get this baby out.” You sniffle and he smirks a bit.

“So unbelievable that I’d want to?”

“Yes. The Gojo I know…”

“You may not know me as well as you think. And maybe I don’t know you that much… aside from I agree about that tight-”

“I swear!” You shove at him, as he snorts in laughter, still a little shit, as they bring in two pictures, and Satoru takes one thoughtfully.

“That’s it, huh?” He tilts his head curiously. “Looks like me.”

“It looks like nothing yet, what?” You’re taking tissue and cleaning up a bit, as they give you privacy to pull back on your panties, but Satoru gives you no privacy, just looking. “You could turn?”

“Why, that’s one benefit you know.”

“What?”

“Could fuck any time, cum inside whenever.”

“Oh you wish.” You shove at his chest, and he’s grinning and wiggling his brows, grabbing your waist, pulling you against him.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”

“Shut it.” Yes.

“Sex is good for pregnancy.”

“You’re so full of shit! I can’t with you. Rizzing me up at a gyno?”

“Perfect place, see that doctor, he wants a piece.”

“You’re so dumb, I swear.” You look at the picture then, thumb brushing against the baby’s… maybe it’s a face?

“Are we gonna live together?”

“I mean… what?” You eye him in shock.

“When the baby’s here.”

“No, we don’t have to do all that, we live close. Can you imagine us living together, we’d kill each other.” He envisions it, the fights surely but… the sex, and seeing you in the morning?

“Or fuck. Alot.”

“That’s how this happened.” You mumble, and soon you’re back home, and trying to ignore your body’s insane responses while he stands on your porch, looking far too fucking sexy. “Thank you for being there.”

“You thanking me? the world is ending.”

“Hush. I appreciate this, you standing by me. You don’t have to.”

“I… want to. Um, what will we say?”

You bite your lip more, until he gently takes it out from under your top row of teeth, brushing against the indentations. “We could say we’re together, if you don’t mind, dating I guess? My parents would trip if they knew it’s like…”

“Same. My parents would be happy for a Gojo heir though.” You hear it, the surprising resentment in his voice.

There’s a lot you don’t know.

“Well, I can act like I like you for them if you want.” You tease, and he leans against your doorway, so fucking tall, just looming over you, and you have to clench your hands not to give in to the temptation of touching him.

“Act like you like me- you?”

“I could! If you could act like you like me, in front of my family.”

“How will we explain the whole not living together thing?”

“It’s new, it’s 2025 Gojo, not 1810. We’ll be okay. You're so old school huh, gonna marry me?”

“You’d leave me at the altar.” You both laugh again, as he straightens up now. “Alright, so when should we tell them?”

“When you want to. So work on those acting skills. I’ll set up brunch with mine, you set up dinner with yours?”

“Sounds good. Alright don’t miss Daddy too much.” You snort and roll your eyes, turning away now.

“Daddy? Whatever.”

Satoru presses you against the door, wrapping an arm around your waist, pressing a hand gently on your tummy, splaying the expanse of it with long fingers, as your breath comes quicker and quicker. “Could swear you called me daddy when I beat up that pretty pussy hmm?”

You falter, whining softly, hating your body’s reaction, scowling right up at him, your hand on your doorknob, while this tall ass of a man makes your body light up. “Never called you daddy, no way.” Your voice is a pathetic whisper, why does he do this to you, you want to arch into his damn touch, press against his length, to the point you make yourself stiffen.

“Oh? Must have been the liquor.” He caresses your face, leaning so close you wildly think he’ll kiss you, and you know damn well you can’t handle that, not with your pussy soaking your damn panties just from this.

You hate Satoru Gojo, and he hates you.

This is… because you both are having a baby.

Right?

“It must have been.”

“Ah, I see. Good night, then sweetheart.” He leans his lips up, kissing the top of your head, a gesture so oddly sweet it doesn’t even fit him. “Text me the details, Sorority brat.”

“Sure will, Frat boy.” He sticks his tongue out as you do, walking in and leaning against the door, overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne, the feel of his hands, the memories that surfaced. You slide down it slowly, burying your face in your hands, as your body trembles with this insane need.

Shit. A baby with your enemy?

A baby with Frat Boy Gojo?

Faking that you like him, would it really be that fake?

Satoru’s leaning against it too, for just a moment, trying to compose himself… finally he’s in the back of the car again, as his driver looks  in the rearview mirror curiously, tired eyes focusing as Satoru looks at the picture again. The little peanut that’s apparently a…

A baby.

With his enemy.

An enemy he really wants to be inside again.

“Everything alright, Mr. Gojo?” Kiyotaka asks, Satoru runs a hand through his hair now, leaning back in his seat as he peers out the dark tinted windows.

“I’m having… a baby with a girl who hates me.”

“Why does she hate you?” Kiyotaka asks, driving off, as Satoru chuckles just a bit, remembering bits and pieces of college, out of order, out of sync.

“Because honestly, I was kind of a complete dick to her?”

“That’s… oddly self observant.”

“You saying I’m a dick to you?”

“No Mr. Gojo!”

“I’m kidding, relax.” Kiyotaka’s tense shoulders relax when Satoru leans forward, hand on his shoulder through the little divider that’s opened. “Do you know shit about kids at all?”

“I have nephews, they’re pretty good kids. But babies, not really.”

“I could ask my parents but they basically had nannies raise me.”

“Many nannies, I heard.”

“Well, I was a menace to be honest. Where do I learn about these… things?”

“Babies?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I think there are books?”

“Hmm.” Satoru pulls out his phone then.

Fratboy Gojo🙄(yes that’s his name in your phone now, no you’re not sorry): Should I order us baby books?

Sorority Brat💦😻(of course that’s your name in his phone): Yes, if you want to? That would be good. Thank you… for today.

Fratboy Gojo🙄: Two thank yous!? That baby is making you a mush.

Sorority Brat💦😻: Whatever!

Satoru snorts then, but when you’re in your bed later that night, nibbling on a bag of hot cheetos that have been screaming at you all day, how is that your first craving!? He writes to you again, and you pick your phone up with your clean hand, sans hot cheeto dust, rolling your eyes.

Fratboy Gojo🙄: Need some nudes for your spank bank?

You’re gonna kill him.

Sorority Brat 💦😻: Good night, Gojo.

Satoru frowns, because his dick is already in his hand, but for a moment you think about it, and would it be so bad to-

No, no no.

You aggressively eat those hot cheetos, wondering just what you were in for with that damn boy in your life now, shit forever.

“Fuck.” You’ll never drink again.

I say four parts but I feel like this is gonna be long aha, bc god Gojo is a lil shithead hehe (as I like him) this just a teensy bit similar to the Knocked Up movie premise so expect a LOT of humor here! <3

Taglist one- @jannythewriter-pt2 @gojosoups @lycoris-radiata-4-sale @cutiepi-iee @poisonousspiderlily @closerbutnevertogether @myahfig4 @shokosbunny @coq1myun @rinny27 @abibliolife @coq1myun @megumisthirdog @p4lli @turtlebangtan @webshooterrr9 @aldebrana @msqudo18 @s0ulsnatchaaa @ovela @midnaamethyste @nearlyfuckingwitches @shibataimu @msniks @missthatgirl @fantasy1nightmare0 @maddyhehehehhe @yourst3pm0mmy @haithamsbb @rentheannihilator @ilovebeansyay @lemonswirlz @dilfkentolover @evelynxxo @bkgnotsuma @suki91 @burntasian @nakiich @hyunjinsruinedpainting @miniv1x3n @minascasket @ihrtmack @contaminatedcupcake @girlwithn0j0b @tokyi999 @vamqyx @queenofthekill @verriees @vullzo @jkslaugh97

[jupiterpilgrim]

Stolen Rendezvous

Karina x Male Reader

word count: 20K

commissioned fic

There’s nothing better than this—no overprotective parents watching your every move, no ridiculous rules about “focus” and “priorities,” no feeling like a fugitive every time you even think about touching her. Just you, her, and the freedom that comes with a empty house, stretching out before you like a playground with no fences.

Because normally? Seeing Karina like this is impossible. Her parents made sure of that. They’ve been drilling the same rule into her head for years—No dating until after college. No distractions, no boys, no late-night calls or sneaking out for secret dates. She’s supposed to be focused, disciplined, dedicated to nothing but her studies and her “future.” They don’t care that she’s a grown woman, that she’s more than capable of balancing school and a relationship. To them, love is just another distraction, another thing standing in the way of their perfect, high-achieving daughter.

And when they found out about you? All hell broke loose.

They showed up at your house—uninvited, pissed off, and ready for war. Sat your parents down in the living room like they were negotiating some hostage situation, talking about “respect” and “boundaries” and how you were ruining Karina’s focus. They made it clear—they didn’t want you anywhere near their daughter. And somehow, in their effort to “keep the peace,” your parents caved. Maybe they didn’t want drama, maybe they just thought it’d be easier to go along with it, but either way, they sat you down after and gave you the same bullshit speech—no more Karina. No more sneaking around. No more chances.

So every moment with her has to be stolen. Every touch, every kiss, every second you get together—it’s always in secret. You can’t meet up at cafes or go on dates like a normal couple. You can’t hold her hand in public without looking over your shoulder. Every plan has to be airtight. Every risk calculated.

But tonight? Tonight, you don’t have to worry about any of that.

The second your parents left—bags packed, off to rekindle their love or whatever the hell couples do on their anniversary—you grabbed your phone and sent the text: All clear.

And now she's at your door. And fuck...

She looks like temptation itself wrapped in casual clothes.

She’s wearing a loose sweatshirt—oversized and comfortable—draped over those thick, juicy thighs of hers, and a pair of tiny shorts that barely peek out from beneath the hem. Her legs are smooth, soft, always irresistible, and when she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, the way her thighs press together has your throat tightening. Her chest strains the fabric of the sweatshirt, her curves impossible to ignore, but it’s her face that always gets you—the delicate doll-like features, the plump lips you could kiss forever, the big, expressive eyes that go from playful to needy in the blink of a eye.

“You’re staring.” She tilts her head, smirking.

“Because you’re hot,” you shoot back, grabbing her wrist and pulling her inside before the neighbors get a show they didn’t pay for.

She giggles, pressing up against you, arms winding around your neck as she buries her face in your chest. The warmth of her body seeps through your clothes, and you let your hands roam down, settling on her waist, pulling her even closer.

“I missed you,” she murmurs.

“You saw me two days ago.”

She pouts, smacking your chest lightly. “Two days is a long time.”

Yeah. You get it. Two days without her feels like forever.

You guide her to the couch, the plan already set. Snacks, movies, then sex—simple, predictable, perfect. A few hours to pretend you’re a normal couple, not two people sneaking around behind the backs of parents who think they know best.

You settle in, Karina curling up against you, her head on your chest while you scroll through movie options. You let her pick—she always wants rom-coms, but you don’t care what’s on the screen when she’s curled up against you like this, warm and soft, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your stomach.

She picks something sappy, some over-the-top romance where the leads fall in love in the span of two days and confess their feelings in the pouring rain. You don’t pay much attention. You’re too busy watching her.

She gets so into it, reacting to every emotional beat like it’s happening to her. She laughs at the stupid jokes, gasps at the dramatic reveals, clutches your hand when things get intense. And when the couple finally kisses, she turns her face up to you expectantly, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.

You take the hint.

The kiss is slow at first, soft and teasing. Her lips are warm, familiar, addictive. You kiss her again, deeper this time, hand sliding up under her sweatshirt, fingers skimming over the smooth skin of her waist. She shivers, pressing closer, her fingers tightening in your shirt.

“Mmm… I love kissing you,” she breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you.

“You love a lot of things about me.”

She giggles, poking your side. “Cocky.”

“Accurate.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, instead shifting to straddle your lap, the movie completely forgotten. Her fingers slide into your hair, her body pressing against yours, soft in all the best ways. Your hands find her hips, gripping, squeezing, mapping out every curve like you haven’t already memorized them a thousand times over.

“You’re insatiable,” you murmur against her lips.

She grins. “You like it.”

Yeah. You do. You like everything about her.

“So, you told them you were studying, huh?” You glance down at her, smirking as your fingers tease at the hem of her sweatshirt, tracing idle patterns on her bare thigh.

Karina hums, her lips brushing against your jaw. “Mhm. Told them I was staying at Giselle’s place for a study session.”

You snort. “Not entirely a lie.” You let your hands slip lower, grabbing two handfuls of that perfect, thick ass, squeezing just enough to make her squeak. “We’re gonna study some anatomy.”

She giggles, pressing closer. “You’re so dumb.”

“But you love it.”

She just smiles, tilting her head, and that look—soft, adoring, almost too much—hits you harder than expected. Then, quieter, she says, “You know, I think this whole ‘no dating’ rule is backfiring.”

You raise a brow. “Oh yeah?”

She shifts, hands playing with the collar of your shirt. “They want me to focus on college, right? But when I’m away from you, I can’t concentrate on anything.” Her voice drops slightly, a confession slipping through. “All I think about is you.”

That lands differently. Not teasing, not playful—just honest. And it knocks the breath right out of you.

You don’t answer with words. You don’t have to. You cup her jaw, tilt her chin up, and kiss her, slow and deep. She melts against you, her fingers curling into your shirt, a little hum escaping into your mouth.

When you pull back, she blinks up at you, lips kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed. “Can we go to your room?”

You know what she means.

You stand without hesitation, sliding your hands under her thighs and lifting her off the couch with ease. She yelps, wrapping her arms around your neck, legs locking around your waist.

“Show-off,” she huffs, but she’s grinning.

“You love that too,” you murmur against her temple, carrying her through the dimly lit hallway.

She presses her face into your neck, exhaling softly. “I missed your bed.”

You push the door open with your shoulder. “You just missed getting wrecked in it.”

She laughs, biting your shoulder in retaliation, and the sound is so sweet, so familiar, that your chest tightens with something deeper than just desire.

You lower her onto the mattress, and she gazes up at you, eyes heavy-lidded, pupils wide. And just like that, the night really begins.

Your shirt hits the floor first, followed by hers. The fabric slides off her smooth shoulders, pooling at her feet. The dim light from your bedside lamp casts soft shadows on her skin, highlighting every curve, every dip, every inch of her you’ve memorized by heart.

Your hands work on your jeans, popping the button, dragging the zipper down slow. She follows your lead, slipping her shorts down those thick thighs of hers, the motion teasing, unintentional or not.

By the time you’re both left in just your underwear, she finally glances down—and that’s when she sees it.

The bulge in your briefs is obvious, straining against the fabric, and her reaction is instant. Her lips part slightly, eyes darkening with unmistakable hunger, the kind that makes your blood run hot. Her thighs press together on instinct, like she’s already feeling that telltale ache, already impatient.

“You’re excited,” you tease, watching her reaction.

She doesn’t even pretend otherwise. Instead, she bites her lip, stepping closer, fingertips barely grazing your stomach. “Can you blame me?”

You chuckle, reaching for her waist, pulling her in. “I was missing your taste.”

The words land exactly how you expect. Her breath stutters, her grip on your skin tightening. Her eyes flicker up to yours, something unspoken passing between you before her hands move again—this time to her back, fingers finding the clasp of her bra.

You watch, completely enraptured, as she unhooks it with practiced ease. But instead of letting it fall right away, she holds it in place, eyes darting toward the open door.

“…Lock it,” she murmurs.

You raise a brow, amused. “Babe, you can relax. No one’s showing up. My parents are miles away by now.”

She hesitates, glancing at the door again. “Just in case.”

You sigh, but you don’t argue.

You move, crossing the room in a few strides, twisting the lock into place. The soft click is barely noticeable, but it seems to be all the reassurance she needs.

Because when you turn back around, her bra is gone. And fuck—

Her massive tits are right there, bare and perfect, skin smooth, curves soft, nipples already slightly stiff from the cool air. She’s standing there, completely confident now, watching you watch her. And she likes it.

Your throat feels dry. Your cock throbs.

Yeah. This night is only getting better.

Your body moves before your brain even catches up. One second you’re standing there, staring like a idiot at her perfect, heavy tits, and the next, you’re on her.

Your hands find her waist first, gripping, pulling her in as your mouth crashes against hers. It’s messy, eager, all lips and tongue, the heat between you flaring instantly. She gasps against your mouth, but she doesn’t hesitate to kiss back, fingers threading into your hair, tugging just enough to make you groan.

You walk her backward, guiding her toward the bed without breaking the kiss. The back of her legs hit the mattress, and you don’t give her time to think before easing her down, following her, pressing your weight against her soft, warm body.

Your hands roam without direction, purely instinctual—her waist, her hips, the smooth dip of her stomach. But when your fingers finally reach her chest, when you finally cup one of those gorgeous, heavy tits in your palm, it’s like something inside you ignites.

She sighs at the contact, arching into your touch like she’s been waiting for it. And she’s so soft.

You squeeze, fingers flexing, feeling the perfect weight of her in your palm. Your thumb brushes over a stiffening nipple, and the reaction is instant—her breath hitches, her body tenses for just a second before she relaxes into it, lips parting in a quiet whimper.

Your mouth finds her neck next, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat. She tilts her head to the side, giving you more access, more skin to taste, more of her to claim. You take full advantage, biting, sucking, marking.

Sliding down, you move lower, kissing your way down her collarbone, her sternum, until your lips finally meet soft, bare skin.

Your mouth latches onto one of her perfect tits, tongue swirling around the stiff peak before sucking hard.

She shudders. Her fingers clutch at your hair, thighs squeezing together, a gasp slipping from her lips that sounds more like a plea than anything else. “Oh my God…”

Your other hand isn’t idle. While your tongue works on one breast, your fingers knead the other, squeezing, teasing, rolling her nipple between your fingertips. She’s a mess beneath you, breathing hard, squirming, already slipping into that space where all she can focus on is you and how good you’re making her feel.

You suck harder, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp.

She moans outright this time, thighs shifting restlessly beneath you, back arching slightly, offering herself up like she needs more, like she can’t get enough. Neither can you.

Your mouth stays latched onto her breast, tongue swirling, lips sucking, taking in the warmth and softness of her. Her skin tastes faintly sweet, her body heat rising under your touch. Every time your tongue flicks over her nipple, she makes the prettiest little sound—half moan, half whimper. Her fingers stay tangled in your hair, clutching, pulling you closer like she never wants you to stop.

And fuck, you don’t want to stop.

You shift slightly, settling more comfortably between her legs, your body pressed against hers. Your free hand kneads her other breast, fingers rolling her nipple between them, squeezing just right. The way she reacts—hips twitching, thighs pressing against your sides—has your cock throbbing, the heat pooling in your gut growing unbearable.

“Shit,” she breathes out, voice trembling, her back arching into your mouth. “You’re so—fuck, you’re so good at that.”

You smirk against her skin, biting down gently before soothing the mark with your tongue. “I know.”

She lets out a breathy laugh, but it dissolves into a moan when you suck harder, drawing more of her into your mouth. Her legs shift again, thighs clenching like she’s desperate for friction. And then—

Her hand moves.

Between the two of you, slipping down, fingers tracing along your stomach, your abs, then lower, until—fuck.

She palms your cock over your underwear, her fingers pressing against the fabric, feeling just how hard you already are for her. Your whole body reacts—hips jerking slightly, a sharp inhale through your teeth as the pleasure spikes instantly.

“Rina,” you groan, voice low, strained.

She giggles, breathy and teasing. “Mmm, you’re so hard already.” Her fingers press down more, rubbing up and down your length through the fabric, the teasing touch enough to make your head spin. “Is this for me?”

“Who the fuck else would it be for?” You can barely get the words out, already losing yourself in the way she’s touching you.

She hums in satisfaction, her hand moving slower, deliberately teasing, driving you insane. “You missed me that much?”

You lift your head from her chest, meeting her gaze. Her lips are parted, her cheeks flushed, her eyes dark with heat. She knows exactly what she’s doing to you, and she’s enjoying every second of it.

“You have no idea,” you murmur.

Her fingers slip beneath the waistband of your underwear, just barely brushing against bare skin, and you curse under your breath.

She leans in, lips ghosting against your ear as she whispers, “I want you to fuck me hard tonight.”

Your whole body tenses. A fresh wave of arousal crashes through you, burning, consuming, making your cock twitch in her hand.

You grip her hips, fingers digging in, your self-control hanging by a thread. “You keep talking like that, and I won’t be able to hold back.”

Her breath is warm against your skin. “Good. I don’t want you to.”

Your hands move without hesitation, sliding down her body, fingertips grazing over her hips before hooking into the waistband of her panties. You tug them down, slowly, savoring the way the thin fabric peels away from her skin, the way her breath hitches as she lifts her hips just enough to help you. And then—fuck.

Her pussy is already glistening, slick coating her soft folds, her arousal shining under the dim light of your room. She’s so wet, so ready, all because of you.

Your cock twitches in response, straining against the last barrier between you. But you don’t rush. No, you take a moment, drinking in the sight of her, the flushed skin, the way her thighs clench slightly, the way she bites her lip as she watches you take her in.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until she leans in, fingers sliding under the waistband of your underwear, her touch feather-light, teasing. “These need to come off too.”

You don’t argue. You lift your hips, dragging your underwear down, letting your cock spring free. The relief is instant, the cool air hitting your heated skin, but that’s nothing compared to the way Karina looks at you—eyes dropping to your length, pupils dilating, breath catching in her throat. She swallows, shifting slightly, and you don’t miss the way her thighs squeeze together again.

“Fuck,” she whispers, almost to herself. “I missed this.”

You smirk, reaching for her, pulling her close again as you murmur against her lips, “Then stop wasting time.”

She giggles, but it’s cut off as your lips meet again, the kiss deep, heated, consuming. Your hands roam her body, tracing every familiar curve, every inch of her you’ve memorized. She shifts, adjusting, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your hips as she straddles you, her bare skin flush against yours. The warmth of her, the heat radiating from between her legs, has your pulse skyrocketing.

She moves, grinding down slightly, and the feeling of her wetness sliding against your cock has you both gasping into the kiss.

You grip her hips, steadying her, voice rough with need. “Fuck, Karina—”

She just smiles, breathless, adjusting her position, lifting herself slightly. You feel the slick head of your cock brush against her entrance, teasing, her arousal smearing over you. And then, slowly, deliberately, she begins to sink down onto you.

She sinks down slowly at first, her body stretching to accommodate you, the slick heat of her pussy gripping you tightly. Her breath hitches, and her nails dig into your shoulders, a sharp contrast to the soft moan that spills from her lips. You watch, mesmerized, as her eyes flutter shut for a moment, her mouth falling open slightly, taking in the fullness, the delicious stretch as she settles onto you completely.

“Fuck,” she breathes, rolling her hips experimentally, adjusting to the way you fill her. “You feel so good.”

Your fingers tighten on her hips, barely holding back the urge to thrust up into her, to take control, to fuck her hard just like she asked. But this moment—her, on top of you, in complete control—it’s intoxicating.

She braces herself, palms pressed against your chest as she lifts her hips, just enough to leave you aching for more before she slides back down. The movement is slow, deliberate, teasing.

“God, I missed this,” she murmurs, rolling her hips again, sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through both of you.

Your hands move on instinct, tracing the curve of her waist before sliding up, fingers closing around her bouncing tits. They’re so fucking perfect—full, soft, warm under your touch. You squeeze, thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples, and the reaction is immediate.

She moans, head tilting back slightly, a shiver running down her spine. “Fuck, baby—”

The way she says it, all breathless and needy, makes your restraint snap. You thrust up into her, meeting her movements, drawing a sharp gasp from her throat. Her pace quickens. She moves faster now, riding you with more urgency, her big tits bouncing with every motion. The wet sound of her slick pussy taking you in again and again fills the room, mixing with her moans, with your own ragged breaths.

“You have no idea,” she gasps between movements, hands gripping your chest for support. “No idea how much I think about this when I’m not with you. How much I want you.”

Your fingers dig into her waist, guiding her movements, pushing her down harder, deeper. “Tell me,” you demand, voice rough with need.

She whimpers, her rhythm faltering for a moment as another sharp wave of pleasure hits her. “I—I touch myself thinking about you,” she confesses, cheeks flushed, body trembling. “Late at night, when I can’t sleep—when I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it—” That does something to you. The thought of her alone, needy, fingers buried between her legs as she thought about this, about you—fuck.

You sit up abruptly, wrapping your arms around her, pressing her flush against you. Her breath stutters, but she doesn’t stop moving. If anything, she moves harder, faster, chasing that high, her body trembling in your arms.

You kiss her, swallowing her moans, pouring every ounce of want, of love, into it. She melts into you, gripping the back of your neck, holding on as she keeps moving, her body grinding against yours in a unrelenting rhythm, her wet heat squeezing around your cock with every bounce. Her tits jiggle with every motion, perfect and soft, her nipples flushed and stiff, her skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat. She’s breathtaking like this—completely lost in it, moaning freely, her lips parted as she gasps for air.

“You make me so fucking horny,” she breathes, rolling her hips in a way that makes you groan. “Every time I see you, every time I even think about you—I get wet. So fucking wet.”

Your grip on her waist tightens, fingers pressing into her soft skin. Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing to you, the way her words hit just as hard as the way she moves.

Your self-control is slipping, your body burning with need, the hunger growing unbearable. You let her ride you a little longer, soaking in the way she moves, the way her pussy clenches around you, so hot and tight, but the pressure in your gut is reaching its peak. You need more. You need to take her.

Without warning, you grab her and flip her onto her back. She lets out a surprised gasp, her hair splaying across the pillow, eyes wide with excitement. You barely give her a second to react before you’re between her legs, spreading her open, positioning yourself over her.

“Fuck,” she whimpers, her thighs twitching as you grip them.

You hook your hands under her knees, lifting her legs, pressing them back slightly to open her up even more. She looks so fucking good like this, spread out beneath you, completely at your mercy, her glistening pussy aching for you.

And you don’t make her wait. You thrust into her, hard. Her back arches instantly, a cry tearing from her throat, her hands gripping the sheets.

“Yes—fuck, yes—”

You set a brutal pace, your hips snapping against hers, the wet sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. Every thrust makes her body jolt, her tits bouncing, her breath coming in desperate, broken moans.

“You love it like this,” you growl, voice thick with lust.

“Yes—god, yes—” she gasps, her nails dragging down your arms.

You grip her thighs tighter, holding her steady, driving into her with deep, relentless strokes. Her walls squeeze around you, clenching tighter every time you hit that perfect spot inside her, every time your cock stretches her in just the right way. She’s completely unraveling beneath you. Her head tilts back, her mouth open, moans spilling out without restraint.

“More,” she whimpers, voice trembling. “Please—don’t stop—”

You don’t. You keep fucking her, hips slamming against hers, the wet slap of your bodies filling the room. Every thrust drives her further into the mattress, her back arching, her tits bouncing in perfect rhythm.

And fuck—you can’t take your eyes off them. They’re so full, so soft, moving with every thrust, flushed from arousal. Your hands itch to grab them, to squeeze them, to claim every inch of her body as yours. But before you can, Karina beats you to it.

She moans, her head tilting back, and then—

Her hands slide up her own body, fingers gliding over her stomach before she cups her own tits, squeezing. Your cock twitches inside her.

“Fuck,” you groan, gripping her thighs tighter, your pace stuttering for half a second.

She whimpers at your reaction, pushing her tits together, rolling her thumbs over her stiff nipples. “You like that?” she teases breathlessly, though her voice shakes from how hard you’re fucking her.

“You know I do,” you growl, thrusting into her deeper, making her gasp.

She moans louder, fingers pinching her own nipples, her pussy clenching around you. “I love how you look at me,” she admits, voice trembling. “Like you wanna ruin me.”

“I do.” Your thrusts turn rougher, harder. “And I will.”

She gasps, her back arching, her grip on her own tits tightening as pleasure surges through her. Her thighs tremble, her moans turning into breathless cries.

You keep thrusting, faster, savoring the way her pussy grips you, hot and wet and perfect. But you want more. You want to see her completely fall apart.

Your hand slides down her body, fingers trailing over her stomach, her hips, until you reach where you’re connected. She whines, her thighs tensing as your fingers brush against her clit. You know how sensitive she is there, how just the slightest touch can send her spiraling.

“Fuck, baby,” she whimpers, her voice shaky, her hands still on her tits. “Don’t—don’t tease me.”

You smirk, your fingers circling her clit, slow and deliberate. “Who’s teasing?” you murmur, watching her face as her breath hitches. “I’m just giving you what you want.”

She moans, her back arching off the bed, her hips grinding against your hand. “You’re such a asshole,” she breathes, but there’s no bite to it. Her eyes are half-lidded, her lips swollen from biting them, and she’s so fucking beautiful like this.

You press harder, your fingers moving faster, and she lets out a sharp cry, her hands finally leaving her tits to grip the sheets instead. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” she chants, her thighs trembling, her pussy clenching around you. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop—”

You don’t. You keep rubbing her clit, your thrusts steady, your cock hitting that spot inside her that makes her see stars. She’s writhing beneath you, her moans getting louder, more desperate, and you know she’s close. But you’re not letting her cum yet. Not yet.

“You’re so fucking wet,” you growl, your voice rough with need. “You love this, don’t you? Love me fucking you like this?”

She nods frantically, her nails digging into the sheets. “Yes, yes, I love it—fuck, I love you—”

Her words hit you like a punch to the chest, and for a second, you lose your rhythm. But you recover quickly, leaning down to capture her lips in a messy, desperate kiss. She kisses you back just as hard, her tongue sliding against yours, her moans muffled against your mouth.

When you pull back, she’s panting, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. “I mean it,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

And you kiss her again, your hand still working her clit, your cock still buried deep inside her. She moans into your mouth, her hips rocking against you, and you know she’s close.

Because you can feel it—the tension in her body, the way her pussy clenches around you, the way her breath hitches every time your fingers brush her clit. So fucking close. And you’re not holding back anymore.

You slam into her, hard and fast, your hips snapping against hers, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. Your fingers work her clit in tight, quick circles, and she lets out a strangled cry, her back arching off the bed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” she babbles, her hands clawing at the sheets, her thighs trembling. “I can’t—I’m gonna—oh my God, I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me, baby,” you growl, your voice low and rough, your own breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “Cum all over my cock. Let me feel it.”

She whimpers, her eyes squeezing shut, her body tensing like a coiled spring. And then—fuck. She explodes.

Her pussy clenches around you, tight and wet, and she lets out a scream that’s half pleasure, half desperation. Her hips buck against yours, her thighs shaking, and then—fuck—she squirts. Hard.

It’s messy. So fucking messy. Her juices gush out, soaking the sheets beneath her, and you don’t stop. You keep fucking her, your cock driving into her as she trembles and writhes, her body convulsing with wave after wave of pleasure.

“Oh my God, oh my God—” she gasps, her voice breaking, her hands flying to her face like she’s trying to hide from the intensity of it. “I can’t—I can’t stop—fuck, it’s too much—”

But you don’t stop. You can’t. You’re too far gone, too lost in the way she feels around you, the way she’s falling apart beneath you. You keep thrusting, your fingers still working her clit, and she lets out another scream, her body jerking as another gush of wetness spills out of her.

“That’s it, baby,” you murmur, your voice strained, your own pleasure building. “Let it all out. Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect.”

She’s a mess—her hair sticking to her forehead, her skin slick with sweat, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind. But she’s beautiful. So fucking beautiful. And you can’t get enough of her.

You lean down, pressing your forehead against hers, your breath mingling with hers as you keep fucking her through her orgasm. Her hands find your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin, and she lets out a broken sob, her body still shaking.

“I can’t—I can’t—” she whimpers, her voice a whisper now, her eyes rolling back in her head. “It’s too much—fuck, it’s too much—”

But you don’t stop. You can’t. You’re too close, too desperate, too lost in her. You keep thrusting, your cock hitting that spot inside her that makes her see stars, and she lets out another cry, her pussy clenching around you again.

“Fuck, baby,” you groan, your voice rough, your hips stuttering. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

She nods frantically, her hands sliding down to grip your hips, pulling you deeper. “Yes, yes—fuck, cum in me—please—”

Her words are all it takes. You slam into her one last time, your cock pulsing as you spill your hot cum inside her, your own orgasm crashing over you like a wave. She lets out a soft moan, her body still trembling, her pussy milking every last drop out of you.

You collapse on top of her, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your heart pounding in your chest. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you close, her face buried in your neck.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her voice shaky, her body still trembling. “That was… fuck.”

You chuckle, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah. It was.”

She lets out a soft laugh. “You’re gonna have to buy new sheets.”

You glance down at the mess beneath you—the soaked sheets, the puddle of her cum, the way her body is still twitching with aftershocks—and you can’t help but grin. “Worth it.”

She giggles, her cheeks flushing, and she buries her face in your chest. “You’re such a asshole.”

“But you love me,” you tease, your fingers brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

She looks up at you, her eyes soft, her lips curving into a smile. “Yeah. I do.”

You kiss her, slow and deep, your body still tangled with hers. Her skin is damp, her breath still unsteady, and she’s curled up against you like she never wants to move again. And fuck—you were about to go again, your cock still achingly hard, pressing against her thigh, ready to slide right back inside her. But then—

The front door opens.

Shit.

Every muscle in your body locks up, and you feel Karina freeze against you, her breath catching in her throat. The sound of footsteps echoes down the hall—your parents. You can tell from the weight of their steps, the familiarity of it.

You were supposed to have the whole damn weekend. Why the fuck are they back?

Karina grabs your arm, eyes wide with panic. “Oh my god,” she whispers, voice barely audible. “What do we do?”

You don’t know. Your brain is still struggling to shift gears, still stuck on the feeling of her wet, trembling body under you. But there’s no time to think, no time to even process what’s happening.

Your eyes dart around the room, searching for somewhere—anywhere—for her to hide. Under the bed? No way, there’s barely any space. Closet? Not a option—too full of shit.

Fuck.

You hear them getting closer, the sound of their voices, their footsteps nearing your door. There’s no time.

“Stay in bed,” you hiss, grabbing the blankets and yanking them over her, covering her completely. “Don’t move, don’t make a sound.”

Karina barely has time to nod before you’re scrambling out of bed, snatching up your underwear and pulling them on with the kind of frantic desperation you never thought you’d experience. Your cock is still half-hard, sticky with Karina’s arousal, but you ignore it, yanking your pants up just as the doorknob rattles.

Locked.

Thank fuck.

You take a deep breath, running a hand through your messy hair, trying to look even remotely normal before reaching for the lock. Your heart is pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears.

You turn the knob, pulling the door open just enough to see them standing there.

Your mom frowns slightly. “Why was the door locked?”

Your dad crosses his arms, eyeing you suspiciously. “And why do you look like you just ran a marathon?”

Shit. Think. Think.

You force a laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Uh—just, uh, napping. Didn’t want to be disturbed.”

Your mom sighs. “Well, sorry to wake you, but we had to come back early.”

Your stomach twists. “Why?”

Your dad shakes his head. “Long story. We’ll tell you in the kitchen. Come on.”

You nod quickly, trying to seem casual. “Yeah—yeah, sure, just, uh, give me a sec.”

They turn, heading back down the hall, and you shut the door, locking it again immediately before turning back to the bed.

Karina peeks out from under the blankets, her big, worried eyes searching your face. She’s still breathing fast, her body still flushed from everything you’d been doing just minutes ago, but now all that heat is mixed with anxiety. The sound of your parents’ voices in the hall makes it worse.

“What the fuck do we do now?” she whispers.

“We wait,” you whisper back, crouching beside the bed. “Once they go to sleep, you can slip out quietly.”

She bites her lip, nodding slowly, but she doesn’t look convinced. “What if they don’t sleep for hours?”

“They will,” you reassure her, even though you’re not entirely sure yourself. “They look exhausted.”

She exhales sharply, still frustrated. “This night was supposed to be perfect.”

“I know,” you murmur, guilt creeping into your voice. You reach for her hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry, baby. I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

She holds onto your fingers for a moment, her grip tight. Then, reluctantly, she nods. “You better.”

“I will,” you promise.

You give her one last look before forcing yourself to turn away, straightening your clothes and running a hand through your hair to make yourself look as normal as possible. Then, with one deep breath, you slip out of your room and head to the living room.

Your parents are already sitting down, looking exhausted, their bags by the door. Your mother glances up as you enter, and immediately, her eyes narrow.

“Why are there two cups in the sink?” she asks. “And why are there so many eaten snacks on the table?”

Fuck, you forgot to clean up. The couch is still a mess from when you and Karina were cuddling, empty snack wrappers scattered on the coffee table, two mugs sitting in the sink like a accusation.

Think. Think.

“I, uh—I had a friend over earlier,” you say quickly, trying to sound casual. “Just, you know, hanging out.”

Your dad rubs his face, sighing. “Who?”

You shrug. “Just a friend. We watched a movie, had some snacks. That’s it.”

Your mother doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she doesn’t push it—at least, not yet.

“Why’d you guys come back early?” you ask, desperate to change the subject.

Your dad exhales, looking annoyed. “The hotel had plumbing issues. Water started leaking in our bathroom. They couldn’t move us to another room because they were fully booked.”

Your mother shakes her head. “We figured it wasn’t worth dealing with all that for a weekend trip, so we decided to just drive back.”

Lucky fucking you.

You nod slowly, trying to act sympathetic while also praying that Karina doesn’t make a noise in the other room.

Your mom sighs, leaning back into the couch. “And honestly, I just want to shower and go to bed. This whole thing has been exhausting.”

Good. Sleep. That’s what you need.

But then—

She suddenly sniffs the air, her brows furrowing.

“What’s that smell?” she asks.

Your heart nearly stops.

“…What smell?” you ask, forcing your voice to stay steady.

My mom looks around, sniffing again. “It smells like perfume.”

Fuck. Karina.

Her scent is all over you. All over your sheets, your skin, probably the entire damn room. And your mom is picking up on it.

Your father frowns slightly. “Perfume?”

Your mom nods. “Yes, it’s faint, but it’s there. It doesn’t smell like anything I own.”

You scramble for a excuse. “Uh—maybe it’s my new deodorant or something?”

Your mom gives you a suspicious look but doesn’t argue. “Maybe,” she mutters.

You need to get out of here. Now.

“Anyway,” you say quickly, stretching your arms. “I’m gonna head back to my room. Long day. You guys should get some rest too.”

Your parents exchange glances, but they’re too tired to question you further.

As soon as you’re in the hallway, you move quickly, slipping back into your room and locking the door behind you.

Karina is still under the covers, staring at you with wide eyes.

“What happened?” she whispers.

You sigh, rubbing your face. “They almost smelled you.”

She blinks. Then, her lips twitch in amusement. “You mean my perfume?”

“Yes, your perfume,” you hiss. “Now we just need to wait for them to fall asleep, and then you can leave.”

She exhales softly, nodding. “Alright. But you owe me a better night than this.”

“I know,” you murmur.

You sit side by side, both of you still quiet, still listening for any sign of movement from the rest of the house. Karina is curled up close to you, her skin warm against yours, her breath slow but not entirely steady. Every now and then, her fingers twitch against your thigh, like she’s thinking about something…

“I wanna fuck again.”

You blink, turning to look at her, suspicious. “Karina—” But she’s already shifting, already climbing onto your lap, her bare skin pressing against you, her thighs straddling yours. She’s still completely naked, her tits right in front of your face, her pussy just barely grazing over your still-hard cock.

You inhale sharply, gripping her waist. “Babe. No.”

She leans in, brushing her lips over yours, teasing, playful. “Why not?”

“Because,” you murmur, barely restraining yourself. “It’s too risky.” She doesn’t care. She kisses you fully this time, her tongue flicking out, hot and wet and fucking intoxicating. Her hands slide over your chest, nails dragging lightly over your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Still horny,” she breathes against your lips. “I need you again.”

You groan, trying to keep some semblance of self-control. “Karina, we—” She reaches down between your bodies, fingers wrapping around your cock through your pants.

And fuck—all logical thought leaves your brain.

She strokes you slowly, deliberately, and when she speaks again, her voice is soft but firm. “I know you’re horny too.”

She’s right. Fuck, she’s right. You’ve been hard this entire time, your body still aching for another release. And with her like this, naked, pressing against you, her lips grazing your jaw—it’s too much.

She gasps as you grab her suddenly, your hands firm on her waist as you lift her off your lap. You react quickly, shoving your pants and underwear down, freeing your cock. You move her to the bed, laying her on her side, pressing in close behind her. She doesn’t resist. She lets you move her, mold her, her breath coming out in soft little pants as she waits for you. You push her leg up slightly, opening her just enough. And then you slide inside.

The heat of her, the slick, tight grip of her pussy around you—it’s fucking bliss. She moans, her back arching slightly, her fingers curling into the sheets. “Fuck—” she gasps, her body shuddering at the stretch. You kiss her neck, your hand gripping the soft flesh of her waist, holding her steady as you push deeper, filling her completely.

She whimpers, pressing back against you. “God, you feel so good—” You start moving, slow at first, savoring every inch of her, feeling the way her body reacts to every thrust. Her pussy clenches around you, her breath coming in sharp little gasps, her back arching with every stroke.

She’s perfect like this—soft and warm in your arms, her body completely yours. Your hips snap forward, her ass grinds against you with every thrust, her soft thighs trembling as you hold her leg hooked over your arm. Your hands slide up her body, fingers digging into the meat of her tits, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp.

“Fuck—fuck—” she whines, her voice cracking as you hit that spot deep inside her. Her head tilts back against your shoulder, lips parted, breath hitching. “Don’t—don’t stop, please—”

You don’t. The wet slap of your hips against her ass fills the room, louder than you’d like, but there’s no hiding it now. Not with how her pussy grips you, hot and slick, fluttering every time you bottom out. Her tits spill through your fingers, nipples stiff and begging for attention, and you pinch one hard, twisting just enough to make her yelp.

She claps a hand over her mouth too late, the sound muffled but still sharp. Her eyes dart to the door, wide and panicked, but her body betrays her—hips rocking back to meet your thrusts, greedy, needy. “Quiet, baby,” you growl into her ear, your free hand sliding down to her clit, fingers rubbing rough circles. “You wanna get us caught?”

She shakes her head frantically, sweat-damp hair sticking to her forehead, but her pussy clenches around you anyway, like her body’s laughing at the idea of staying silent. Her thighs quiver, her toes curling into the sheets as you fuck her harder, deeper, your cock stretching her in ways that make her whimper.

“I can’t—I can’t—” she whines, voice breaking as you grind into her, your thumb pressing harder on her clit. “It’s too much—you’re too much—” You bite her shoulder, teeth sinking into soft skin, and she jerks against you, a choked moan escaping her throat. The bed creaks dangerously beneath you, the headboard tapping the wall in a rhythm that’s way too obvious. But stopping isn’t a option—not when she’s this wet, this desperate, her juices dripping down your cock, soaking the sheets beneath her.

Her hand claws at your thigh, nails biting into your skin as you drive into her. “Slower—please—” she begs, but her hips keep rolling, grinding back against you like she’s chasing her own ruin.

“You don’t mean that,” you mutter, gripping her hip tighter, angling your thrusts to hit that spongy spot inside her. She chokes on a sob, her back arching, tits heaving as her breath comes in ragged gasps.

The room smells like sex—sweat, her perfume, the musk of her arousal clinging to every surface. Her legs tremble, her thighs slick where they press against yours, and you can feel her teetering on the edge, that tight coil in her gut winding tighter with every snap of your hips.

“Gonna cum?” you taunt, your voice low, rough. Your fingers leave her clit, sliding down to grip her thigh instead, spreading her wider. “Go ahead. Cum for me.”

She shakes her head, tears pooling in her eyes from the effort of holding back. “No—no—I can’t—”

But her body doesn’t care. Her thighs clamp around your hips as you thrust into her, her nails digging into your shoulders hard enough to leave marks. Her head is thrown back, lips parted in silent gasps, her tits bouncing with every snap of your hips. You lean down, mouth latching onto her neck, sucking bruises into her skin while your fingers find her clit again—swollen, hypersensitive, begging for more.

“Fuck,” she hisses, her hips jerking off the bed, her pussy clenching around you like a vise. “Too much—too much—”

You don’t let up. Her body’s trembling, her thighs slick with sweat and her own arousal, and the wet slap of your skin against hers is loud enough to wake the dead. She’s close—so fucking close—her breath hitching every time your cock drags over that spot inside her.

That’s when the knock comes.

Three sharp raps on the door.

Karina freezes beneath you, her eyes snapping open, wide and panicked. You stop mid-thrust, your cock buried deep, both of you holding your breath.

“Everything okay in there?” your mom calls through the door. “I heard… noises.”

Karina’s hand flies to her mouth, her chest heaving. You swallow hard, forcing your voice steady. “Noises?”

“Yeah. Like… thumping.”

You glance down at Karina. Her face is flushed, her lips bitten raw, her tits glistening with sweat. The bed creaks as you shift slightly, and she clenches around you, her thighs shaking.

“Uh—probably the neighbor’s cat,” you say, voice strained. “They got a new one. Thing’s a maniac.”

Silence. Then: “…The cat?”

“Yep.” You grit your teeth as Karina’s hips twitch, her pussy fluttering around you. “Big fucker. Keeps jumping on the roof.”

Another pause. Karina’s fingers dig into your biceps, her body trembling with the effort of staying still.

“…Alright,” your mom says finally. “Well, keep it down. We’re trying to sleep.”

“Sure,” you choke out.

Her footsteps fade down the hall.

Karina lets out a shaky breath, her head dropping back against the pillow. “Oh my God—”

You don’t give her time to recover. You start moving again, slow, deep thrusts that make her eyes roll back. “Should’ve stayed quiet, baby,” you murmur, thumb circling her clit.

She whimpers, her hand flying back to her mouth as her hips buck. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum—”

“Then cum,” you growl, fucking her harder, the bedframe knocking against the wall again. “Let me feel it.”

She shakes her head frantically, tears spilling over as she grabs a pillow, shoving it against her face. Her scream is muffled, her body bowing off the bed as her orgasm tears through her. Her pussy gushes, soaking the sheets beneath her, her thighs trembling violently as she squirts again, the wetness dripping down your balls.

“Fuck,” you groan, your thrusts turning erratic. Her walls keep milking you, spasming relentlessly, and you’re so close—

You pull out abruptly, earning a broken whine from Karina. She reaches for you, but you’re already climbing over her, your cock in your fist, stroking hard and fast.

“Look at me,” you rasp.

Her eyes flutter open, hazy with pleasure, her lips parted. You fist your cock, your release building.

“Cum on me,” she whispers, hands sliding up to squeeze her own tits, presenting them to you.

That’s all it takes. You groan, your hips jerking as you spill over her, stripes of white cum painting her skin. She gasps, her back arching, her fingers brushing through the mess, smearing it over her nipples.

“Fuck,” she breathes, staring up at you.

You collapse beside her, chest heaving, your cock still twitching in your hand. Without a word, you guide the tip to her lips. She opens her mouth obediently, tongue swirling around the head, cleaning you off with soft, lazy sucks.

“Good girl,” you murmur, running your fingers through her hair.

She hums around you, her eyes fluttering shut, her body still trembling with aftershocks. The room reeks of sex—sweat, cum, the sharp tang of her arousal soaked into the sheets. The headboard’s left a dent in the wall, and the pillow Karina bit into has a tear in the fabric.

Footsteps pass by the door again, slower this time.

Karina freezes, your cock slipping from her lips. “Shit—”

You clamp a hand over her mouth, listening. The footsteps pause. Then continue.

She lets out a shaky breath when they fade, her body slumping against yours. “We’re gonna die,” she whispers.

You snort, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Worth it.”

She swats your chest but doesn’t argue. Outside, the faint sound of the TV clicks on—your parents, still awake.

Karina’s eyes drift shut, her breathing slowing. You stare at the ceiling, the adrenaline fading, leaving you exhausted.

—

The rest of the night passes in a strange, almost frustrating silence. The rush, the thrill, the desperate need you and Karina had for each other has finally burned itself out, leaving only the quiet aftermath.

She’s curled up against you, completely spent, her hair still damp from sweat, her skin warm under the sheets. You can feel her steady breathing, her chest rising and falling slowly. Every now and then, her fingers twitch against your stomach, absentmindedly tracing patterns, but she doesn’t say much. Then—

“I’m hungry,” she murmurs, her voice soft and a little sleepy.

You sigh, stretching slightly. “Yeah. Me too.”

Reluctantly, you pull away from her warmth, sitting up and running a hand through your messy hair. You grab your underwear and pants from the floor, pulling them on before glancing back at her.

She’s still sprawled out, her bare legs tangled in the sheets, looking way too fucking comfortable for someone who’s about to sneak out of a house she isn’t supposed to be in.

“Come on,” you tell her. “Let’s eat.”

She groans, dragging herself up from the bed and pulling on her oversized sweatshirt again before following you out.

The house is quiet. No sign of your parents. But you both still move cautiously, sticking to the shadows like fugitives as you make your way to the kitchen.

You make her a simple sandwich—just ham, cheese, and a little mayo—and one for yourself, placing them on plates. She takes hers with a sleepy smile, murmuring a quiet “Thanks, baby” before taking a bite.

That’s when you see it.

Her phone. Lying between the couch cushions, right where she must’ve left it earlier in the night.

Shit. If your parents had found it… You grab it quickly, heading back to the kitchen. “Hey, you forgot this.”

Karina looks up, mid-bite, eyes widening slightly before she giggles. “Oops.”

She takes the phone, grinning sheepishly. “Guess I was too distracted.”

You snort, sitting down across from her. “Yeah, no shit.”

You eat in silence after that, the only sound in the kitchen being the occasional crunch of bread, the distant ticking of the kitchen clock. You find yourself watching her, completely unable to look away.

She’s beautiful. Even in this dim light, even in just her sweatshirt, her hair messy from sex, her skin still glowing slightly—she’s fucking beautiful.

And you love her.

It hits you suddenly, just how much. You’d risk everything for her. You already are.

When you finish eating, you both head back to your room. But the second you step inside, your eyes land on the mess.

The bed.

Completely fucking soaked.

Karina follows your gaze, and you see the exact moment she realizes. Her entire face turns red, her eyes widening in horror. “…Oh my god,” she whispers.

You glance at her, biting back a smirk. “You really lost it, huh?”

She buries her face in her hands. “Stop,” she groans. “This is so embarrassing.”

You chuckle, walking over and poking at the wet patch. “Damn, babe. You ruined my fucking bed.”

She whines, flopping onto the only dry part of the mattress, hiding her face. “I can’t believe I did that.”

You sit beside her, brushing her hair back. “Hey. It’s hot as fuck.”

She peeks at you through her fingers. “Really?”

“Really.” You grin. “But also, how the hell am I supposed to clean this?”

She groans again, covering her face. “I don’t know! Just—flip the mattress or something!” You laugh quietly, kissing the top of her head.

Yeah, the bed is ruined. The room is a disaster. And tomorrow, you’ll have to explain why your sheets are in the wash at 7 a.m.

But now she's here. Warm. Yours.

And that's all that matters.

The two of you spend some time in the room, listening carefully to the occasional sounds of your parents moving around the bedroom. But soon, the house falls silent.

Finally.

Karina grabs her phone, ordering a Uber. She sighs, stretching before standing up. “I should go before I push my luck.” You nod, but you don’t like it. You don’t want her to go.

Minutes later, a single car horn sounds from outside.

You both freeze for a second.

“Shit,” she hisses. “That was loud.”

You move quickly, peeking through the window. The car is there, waiting. No lights turning on in your parents’ room. Yet.

“Come on,” you whisper, grabbing her hand. She follows you, both of you moving quickly and quietly. You lead her to the front door, pausing just before opening it.

You look at her.

She looks at you.

And then you kiss her.

It’s slow but deep, your hands cupping her face, her fingers curling into your shirt. It’s a goodbye kiss, but also a promise. When you finally pull away, she smiles at you, her eyes soft.

“I love you.”

You squeeze her hand. “I love you too.”

Then, she slips outside, hurrying to the waiting car.

And you? You lock the door, take a deep breath, and head back to your ruined bed, already counting down the days until you can have her in it again.

—

The routine stays the same. Sneaking around, waiting for the perfect window when neither of your parents are home, stealing moments together whenever you can. It’s frustrating, but you make it work. You always do.

Today, though, you’re breaking the cycle—at least a little.

You’re sitting in a park, away from the crowded spots, where the trees give you enough shade to keep cool. A picnic blanket is spread out beneath you, snacks and drinks laid out, nothing fancy, but enough to make this feel special. Because today isn’t just any day.

It’s Karina’s birthday.

And fuck, she looks beautiful.

She’s wearing a dress—white, soft fabric, the kind that clings just enough to show off her curves but flows in all the right places. It’s got thin straps that sit delicately on her shoulders, leaving her collarbones and the smooth expanse of her neck exposed, just begging to be kissed. The bodice hugs her waist, showing off her perfect figure, before flaring out slightly around her thighs. When the breeze picks up, the hem flutters, teasing glimpses of her legs, her skin glowing in the sunlight. Her hair is loose today, falling over her shoulders in soft waves, and her makeup is minimal, just enough to make her features pop—though, if you’re being honest, she doesn’t need it. Her lips are a soft shade of pink, and her eyes sparkle every time she looks at you.

She looks like something out of a fucking dream.

She catches you staring and smirks, tilting her head slightly. “What?”

You shake your head, grinning. “You’re just… so fucking pretty.”

She giggles, reaching for a strawberry from the small container between you. “You’re just saying that because it’s my birthday.”

“I say it every day,” you point out, watching as she bites into the fruit, her lips glistening slightly from the juice.

She hums in amusement, chewing slowly before swallowing. “Still. I like hearing it.”

You lean in, brushing your fingers over her knee. “Then I’ll keep saying it.”

She smiles, soft and sweet, before offering you a strawberry. You take a bite straight from her fingers, and she laughs, wiping the juice from your lip with her thumb.

The moment is simple, quiet, but it’s perfect. You wish things didn’t have to be so secret. That you could celebrate her properly, with her family, with your family, without sneaking around like criminals. But for now, this is enough. Just the two of you, in your own little world.

The day is perfect by the way. The kind of day that makes you forget all the bullshit you and Karina have to deal with. Right now, none of that matters.

You’ve got your arms wrapped around her, her back pressed against your chest as you sit together on the picnic blanket. She’s warm, soft, fitting against you in that way that feels too natural, too right. The view of the park is nice—the trees swaying gently in the breeze, the sunlight filtering through the leaves, the few scattered people going about their day—but honestly, you’re barely paying attention. She smells so fucking good, something sweet and floral, and when she shifts slightly, adjusting her position against you, the movement sends a pleasant little shiver through your body.

You talk about everything—random memories, stupid jokes, the weird couple you saw earlier arguing about how to set up a folding chair. Karina laughs softly, her voice light, relaxed. Then—

“Wanna know a secret?” she asks, her tone playful.

You raise a brow, intrigued. “Always.”

She leans in slightly, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “I’m not wearing any panties.” Your entire body tenses.

You blink. “What?”

She pulls back, biting her lip, eyes full of mischief. “I thought it’d be fun.”

You stare at her, your brain struggling to process the sudden shift in conversation. You look down at her dress, that soft, flowy fabric, and suddenly, you can’t stop thinking about what’s underneath. Or rather, what isn’t underneath.

“That’s—” You clear your throat, already feeling your blood rushing south. “That’s really fucking hot.”

She grins, clearly pleased with herself. “I was thinking…” She trails a finger down your arm, slow and teasing. “I’ve always been curious about having sex in a public place.”

You exhale sharply, your grip on her tightening. “You’re seriously the naughtiest person I know.”

She giggles. “I know.”

Your lips crash into hers before you even realize what you’re doing. The kiss is deep, heated, your hand sliding down her side, gripping her thigh, already desperate to feel more. The thought of fucking her out here, with people nearby, the risk, the thrill—it’s got your heart pounding.

You pull back, breathless, and grab her hand. “Come on.” She follows eagerly, a knowing smile playing on her lips as you walk together, looking for somewhere safe, somewhere hidden. The park isn’t crowded today, which works in your favor. But then—

As you round a path leading toward a quieter area, you see it—a gathering of people. Not just any people—middle-aged, dressed a little too nicely for a casual park visit.

Some kind of event is going on. You squint, trying to figure it out. A community book club? A charity fundraiser? Maybe one of those wine-tasting things that always seem to attract people in their 40s and 50s.

None of it really matters. Because the second Karina sees them, she freezes. And then, without a word, she grabs your wrist and pulls you behind the nearest tree.

Your back presses against the bark, Karina pressed close against you, her breathing suddenly unsteady. “What the hell?” you whisper. “What’s wrong?” She swallows hard, peeking around the tree again before turning back to you, eyes wide.

“My parents,” she says in a hushed voice. “They’re here.”

Your stomach drops. “What?”

You peek out, scanning the crowd, and sure enough—there they are. Standing together, talking to some other couple, looking completely at home in this kind of setting.

What the fuck are they doing here?

Before you can even fully process it, your own eyes catch on something else. Your parents. Right fucking there.

You jerk back behind the tree, your mind reeling. “Holy shit.”

Karina stares at you. “What?”

“My parents are here too.”

Her mouth falls open slightly. “No way.”

“Yes way,” you hiss. “What the fuck is happening? They didn’t even mention going out today!”

Karina peeks out again, her brow furrowed. “Is this some weird, like… adult social event thing?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t fucking care,” you whisper. “We need to get back to the picnic before they see us.”

But Karina doesn’t move.

Instead, she grabs your hand, her grip firm.

“No.”

You blink. “No?”

She leans in, pressing against you, her lips just inches from yours. “I still want you to fuck me.”

Your breath catches. “Are you insane?”

She smiles, her fingers trailing down your arm, slow, teasing. “If we’re quick, no one will see us.”

You should say no. You should. This is reckless. Stupid. Borderline suicidal. But fuck—

The risk, the danger, the fact that your parents are right there—it’s so fucking hot.

You grab her wrist, eyes burning into hers. “Come on.”

She grins, biting her lip as you lead her away, toward a hidden corner, where you can stay out of sight while still watching the event from a safe distance.

Your heart is racing. And this is about to be the best mistake you’ve ever made.

The corner you lead Karina to is tucked away, hidden between thick bushes and a couple of trees with low-hanging branches. It’s just far enough from the event that no one will notice you, but not so far that the risk is completely gone. You can still hear the low hum of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter from the gathering of middle-aged people, your parents somewhere in that crowd.

But none of that matters right now. Right now, it’s just you and Karina, standing in the shade, adrenaline buzzing through your veins. The air is warm, slightly humid, carrying the faint scent of grass and flowers, but all you can focus on is her—on the way she’s looking at you, eyes dark with anticipation, her lips parted slightly.

You don’t waste any time.

Your mouth crashes onto hers, swallowing her little gasp as you push her up against the rough bark of a tree. She melts into you instantly, her hands grabbing at your shoulders, pulling you closer. The kiss is messy, all tongue and heat, your need for each other too overwhelming to be anything but desperate.

Your hands move on instinct, sliding down her sides, feeling the soft curve of her waist before settling on her ass. You squeeze hard, fingers digging into the plump flesh through the thin fabric of her dress.

She moans against your lips, pressing her body against yours.

“You’re so fucking bad,” you murmur against her mouth.

She giggles breathlessly, rolling her hips against you. “You love it.”

You growl softly, giving her ass another firm squeeze before your hands move to your belt.

No more waiting.

You shove your pants down just enough to free your cock, already hard, throbbing with the need to be inside her. She watches you, biting her lip, her breath coming faster.

Then, without breaking eye contact, you grab the hem of her dress and lift it.

No panties. Just like she said.

You curse under your breath, gripping her hip as you press your cock against her bare skin, dragging it along her slick folds from behind.

She shudders, her fingers digging into the bark of the tree. “Oh my god—”

You smirk, rubbing your length against her, teasing her, making her squirm. “This what you wanted?”

“Yes,” she breathes. “Please—fuck, we have to be quick—”

She’s right. You both know you don’t have time for teasing.

So you don’t waste another second.

You grab her hips, positioning yourself behind her, and then you push inside.

She gasps, her whole body tensing as you stretch her open, filling her in one deep, smooth thrust.

“Fuck,” you groan, your forehead pressing against her shoulder. She’s so fucking tight, her pussy gripping you perfectly, like she was made for this.

Karina bites down on her lip, stifling a moan. “God—you’re so deep—”

You grip her hips tighter, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in.

She lets out a muffled cry, her body jerking forward slightly from the force of it.

You wrap a arm around her waist, holding her steady, setting a fast, rough pace. You don’t have time to take it slow—not here, not with the risk of being caught. Every thrust drives her harder against the tree, her body rocking with each movement.

She’s struggling to keep quiet, her moans coming out in soft, broken whimpers, her hands gripping the bark like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

“You love this, don’t you?” you whisper in her ear. “Getting fucked right out in the open, where anyone could see?”

She whimpers, her pussy tightening around you. “Y-yes—fuck—”

Your hand moves from her waist to her thigh, gripping, lifting her leg slightly to get even deeper.

She gasps sharply, her back arching, her head tilting back onto your shoulder.

“Baby—oh my god—”

You keep fucking her, each thrust pushing her up against the rough bark of the tree, her body jerking slightly with the force of it. She’s soaked, dripping down your cock, her walls clenching around you like she’s trying to pull you in deeper. The heat between you is overwhelming, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

Your hands move from her hips, sliding up her stomach, feeling the curve of her waist before reaching her tits. You squeeze them through the thin fabric of her dress, fingers finding her hard nipples, rolling them between your fingertips.

She gasps, arching into your touch.

“Fuck, baby—” Her voice is breathy, almost a whisper, but you can hear the excitement, the thrill laced in every syllable.

You lean in, lips brushing against her neck, kissing, sucking lightly. She shivers, her whole body reacting to the sensation.

She giggles, nervous and turned on at the same time. “This is so wrong,” she breathes. “So dangerous.”

You smirk against her skin, nipping lightly at her shoulder. “Maybe that’s why we love it so much.”

She moans softly, pressing back against you, her ass grinding into your hips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Maybe sneaking around for so long fucked us up a little. Maybe we got a kink for this kinda thing.”

She whimpers at that, her pussy tightening around you. “Mmm—maybe we did.”

You pick up the pace, snapping your hips against her, pushing her harder into the tree. The wet sound of your bodies moving together is obscene, mixing with the distant voices of people at the event just beyond your little hiding spot.

Karina gasps, her fingers digging into the bark. “Oh my god—”

Her thighs tremble, her breath coming in short, quick pants.

You grip her hips tighter, fingers digging into her soft flesh as you start fucking her harder, faster. Your pace turns frantic, desperate, every thrust slamming deep into her dripping pussy, making her body jolt with the force of it. She’s so fucking wet, each stroke making a filthy, slick sound that only adds to the raw intensity of what you’re doing.

Karina is losing it.

Her moans grow louder, high-pitched and breathless, her hands clawing at the rough bark of the tree for some kind of stability. She’s completely at your mercy, taking every thrust, her legs shaking, her body surrendering to the pleasure.

“Fuck—baby—” Her voice is trembling, barely coherent.

You grit your teeth, leaning over her, pressing your lips to her ear. “Shh,” you murmur. “Not so loud.”

“I can’t,” she whimpers, her voice breaking. “I—I can’t be quiet—”

That makes something snap inside you.

The fact that she knows she needs to be quiet, wants to be quiet—but she can’t. She’s so lost in it, so overwhelmed by pleasure, that controlling herself isn’t even a option.

And that? That drives you fucking crazy.

You slam into her harder, your cock buried deep inside her, hitting her exactly where she needs. Her back arches, her fingers tightening around the tree, another sharp moan slipping past her lips.

She gasps suddenly, her whole body trembling. “I’m—I’m close—”

You groan, feeling your own release creeping up on you. “Me too.”

She tilts her head, turning just enough to find your lips. “Cum with me,” she begs, her voice soft, desperate.

That’s all you need.

You kiss her, swallowing her moans, your tongues tangling as you fuck her through the last stretch of pleasure. The tension in your body builds and builds, the heat in your gut tightening until it finally—

“Fuck—”

Karina suddenly stiffens, her pussy clamping down around you as she cums, her body wracked with shudders.

But she screams.

Your hand flies up, clamping over her mouth just in time, muffling the tail end of that scream before it can carry too far. The voices nearby pause—someone laughs, someone else mutters something—and your heart’s pounding in your chest, adrenaline spiking. Her cries are still vibrating against your palm, hot and wet, her breath heaving as her orgasm wrecks her, her pussy pulsing around you, soaking you even more. She’s shaking so bad you have to hold her up, your arm wrapping around her waist to keep her from collapsing.

And that—her muffled screams, the way she’s clenching so fucking tight, the way her whole body’s convulsing against you—it’s too much. It shoves you right over the edge.

Pleasure hits you like a goddamn truck, raw and blinding, crashing through every nerve in your body. Your cock twitches hard, buried deep inside her, and you lose it. You cum—hot, thick, and messy—spilling into her with these sharp, uncontrollable pulses. The first spurt’s so intense it feels like your soul’s leaving your body, your vision blurring at the edges, your knees buckling as you pump her full. You can feel it—every rope of cum flooding her, stuffing her pussy to the brim, the heat of it mixing with hers, slick and overwhelming.

“Fuck—so good—too fucking good—” you growl through gritted teeth, still thrusting shallow and sloppy as you ride it out, each pulse hitting you like a shockwave. The risk of it—your parents just beyond the trees, probably sipping drinks and chatting, no clue their son’s unloading inside Karina right now—it’s like lighter fluid on the fire, making every sensation tem times sharper, tem times dirtier. Your hands dig into her hips, bruising, like letting go means you’ll both fall apart.

You stay there for a minute, panting hard, chests heaving, your cock still twitching inside her as the last of it leaks out. She’s trembling under you, little aftershocks making her pussy flutter around you, milking you dry. Finally, you pull out slow, and she lets out this shaky, wrecked exhale, her legs wobbling as she straightens up, leaning heavy against the tree for support.

You step back just enough, hands sliding down to grab her ass cheeks, spreading them wide. And fuck—there it is. Your cum’s already leaking out of her, thick and white, oozing from her swollen, fucked-out pussy. It drips slow down the inside of her thigh, glistening in the faint sunlight filtering through the branches. Her entrance is still pulsing, pushing out more, and it’s pooling there, sticky, hot, and dangerously obscene.

She gasps, twisting her head back to look at you, eyes wide and dazed. “Jesus fuck, baby—you came so fucking much.” Her voice is hoarse, awed, like she can’t believe how full she is. There’s a little smirk tugging at her lips, though, this filthy pride mixing with the shock.

You grin, smug and wrecked, squeezing her ass playfully, smearing some of the mess across her skin with your fingers. “Yeah, well—you fucking earned it, didn’t you?” Your voice is low, still rough from the high.

You tuck yourself back into your pants, heart still pounding, body still buzzing.

That? That was fucking insane.

And you loved it.

You grab Karina’s hand, your fingers lacing together as you sneak back toward your picnic spot where she can wipe her thighs with some disposable tissues, hearts still pounding, adrenaline still buzzing through your veins. Every step feels like a risk, every movement sharp and alert, your senses heightened from what you just did.

But no one notices.

No one even looks in your direction.

The people at the event are still deep in their conversations, sipping their overpriced wine or whatever the hell they’re doing. Your parents—both sets—are still in the crowd, oblivious, completely unaware that just moments ago, their kids were fucking like animals just a few feet away.

It’s almost ridiculous.

You and Karina glance at each other, trying to keep straight faces, but it’s useless.

The moment you reach your picnic blanket, you both collapse onto it, covering your mouths to muffle your laughter.

“Holy shit,” Karina whispers, her body shaking from the effort of holding it in. “We actually did that.”

You exhale sharply, leaning back on your hands, still catching your breath. “That was fucking insane.”

She looks at you, eyes bright with excitement. “And so hot.”

You groan, running a hand through your hair. “Don’t start. I’m this close to dragging you behind another tree.”

She giggles, shifting closer, resting her head against your shoulder. Her body is still warm, still humming with the aftermath of what you just did. You can feel it. The connection between you—stronger than ever.

She exhales slowly, tilting her head up to look at you. “I still feel you inside me.”

You turn to look at her, and she’s smirking, that smug, satisfied look that drives you crazy.

You swallow hard, eyes flicking down to her thighs, her soft, bare skin still flushed from the way you had her bent over, taking you deep. And now—now she’s sitting here, looking perfect and innocent in that little white dress, while your cum is still leaking out of her.

You shift, adjusting your position, because fuck if that doesn’t make you hard again.

Karina grins, obviously noticing, and nudges you playfully. “Behave.”

You scoff. “Says the one who just dragged me into public sex.”

She shrugs, resting her hand on your thigh. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”

You glance around quickly, making sure no one is paying attention before leaning in, brushing your lips against her ear. “Because I love it.”

She shivers, biting her lip, her fingers curling against your leg.

And just like that—you both know this isn’t over.

—

The last few months have been a grind.

Between college, your part-time job, and the constant stress of keeping your relationship a secret, you and Karina have barely had any time together. It’s frustrating as hell, sneaking around, finding small pockets of time where you can be alone, only to have them cut short by obligations, responsibilities, or the constant fear of getting caught.

And it’s been weeks since you last fucked.

So when your phone buzzes while you’re chilling at your friend’s place, and you see Karina’s name on the screen, you don’t hesitate to answer.

“Hey, baby,” you say, already feeling a smile tug at your lips.

Her voice comes through the speaker, light and teasing. “Miss me?”

You chuckle. “Always.”

“Mmm, good answer.” There’s a playful lilt to her tone, something just under the surface, something that instantly makes your body react. “Do you remember what I told you a couple of weeks ago?”

You pause, trying to think. “Uh…”

She sighs dramatically. “You forgot?”

You scramble, running through past conversations in your head, but before you can figure it out, she gives you the answer herself.

“My parents,” she says slowly, like she’s guiding a clueless student. “Are at a friend’s wedding. Out of town. For the whole night.”

You did forget. She did mention it, but between work and school, it completely slipped your mind. And now—

Now she’s alone.

At home.

Waiting for you.

The grin that spreads across your face is instant.

“You serious?” you ask, already standing up from the couch.

“Dead serious,” she purrs. “And I really don’t want to spend the night alone.”

You’re already grabbing your keys, your heart pounding. “I’m on my way.”

She giggles. “I’ll be waiting.”

You hang up and turn to your friends, who have been watching you with knowing looks.

“I gotta go,” you announce, already heading for the door.

One of them smirks. “Karina?”

“Karina.”

They all nod in understanding. “Go get your girl, man.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You practically run out the door, jumping into your car, setting off toward the one place you want to be more than anywhere else. Tonight, Karina is yours. And nothing is going to stop you from getting to her.

—

You pull up to Karina’s house, your heart already pounding, excitement buzzing in your veins. It’s been way too fucking long since you had her all to yourself—no parents, no time limits, no need to rush. Just you and her, a whole night with nothing standing in your way.

You practically jump out of the car, hurrying up to the front door. You ring the doorbell.

And wait.

Nothing.

You frown, shifting on your feet. Maybe she’s in the bathroom? Or listening to music? You ring again. Then again, a little impatient now.

Still nothing.

Your excitement dims slightly, replaced by curiosity. You check your phone—no messages. Weird.

You sigh, already knowing what you’re about to do.

You step around the side of the house, toward the window of her room, the same one you’ve climbed through way too many times before. You know it’s never locked—she always forgets to latch it.

Like always, it slides open easily. You climb inside, landing silently in the familiar space. The soft scent of her perfume lingers in the air, her bed slightly messy, the desk covered in scattered notebooks.

But she’s not here.

You frown, stepping out into the hallway. The house is quiet.

Then, you hear the sound of a door closing.

You follow the noise, stepping into the living room—

And there she is.

Standing in front of the now-closed front door, looking confused for a split second before she turns around—

And screams.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

She practically jumps out of her skin, stumbling back against the door, her hand flying to her chest.

You freeze, eyes wide. “Shit—”

She stares at you, eyes blown wide, breathing hard. “What the fuck are you doing in here?!”

You raise your hands in surrender, trying not to laugh at her reaction. “Babe, relax—I rang the bell like five times, you didn’t answer!”

She still looks completely shaken, her chest rising and falling quickly. “So you just broke in?!”

“I climbed in,” you correct. “Like I always do.”

She groans, covering her face. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You step closer, gently pulling her hands away from her face. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

She pouts against your mouth. “You’re a idiot.”

You smirk, kissing her again, this time deeper, letting your hands slide down to her waist. “Yeah, but you love me.”

She sighs dramatically but melts into you, her arms looping around your neck.

Now that you’re close, you really take her in—her oversized shirt barely covering anything, her bare legs smooth and tempting, her skin still warm from the scare you gave her.

“Do your parents know you’ve been wearing those short clothes around boys?”

“Ugh, stop acting like a pervert,” she says, patting your chest lightly.

“When do they get back?” you ask, trailing your fingers along her hips.

She hums, pretending to think. “Tomorrow morning.”

Your smirk grows. “That’s plenty of time.”

Her breath catches slightly, her hands gripping your arms. “You better not waste it.”

Oh, you won’t.

The moment those words leave her mouth, you crash your lips against hers, pulling her into a messy, desperate kiss.

It’s been weeks since you properly made out, and now, all of that pent-up frustration, all of that longing, comes exploding out at once. Your mouths move together frantically, your tongues meeting, your hands gripping her body like you’re scared she’ll disappear if you let go.

You’re stumbling backward, barely aware of where you’re going, your focus completely consumed by her. Then—

You hit the couch.

You fall onto it, and Karina immediately climbs onto your lap, straddling you, her knees pressing into the cushions on either side of your legs. Between kisses, she gasps, “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

You groan, tilting your head, kissing along her jaw, down to her neck. “Missed you too, baby. So fucking much.”

Your hands slide down her thighs, gripping, squeezing, mapping out the smooth curves of her legs. And then you realize.

She’s not wearing anything under that oversized shirt.

Your fingers dig into her thighs, your cock twitching in your pants. “Jesus, Karina.”

She smirks against your lips, rocking her hips slightly. “You like?”

“Obviously.”

You slide your hands up, under her shirt, feeling the heat of her bare skin, the soft swell of her hips. She’s so fucking perfect, so yours.

Between kisses, her voice lowers, turning softer. “You know… college is almost over.”

You pause slightly, just for a second, before nodding. “Yeah.”

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her fingers tracing your jaw. “We’ll be free soon.”

You exhale, running your hands up her back.

She continues, her voice filled with quiet excitement. “We can get decent jobs. Rent a apartment. Live together.”

Your chest tightens—not with fear, not with hesitation, but with something stronger. Hope.

No more sneaking around. No more hiding. Just you and her, in a home that’s yours.

“No one bothering us,” she murmurs, pressing her forehead against yours.

You smile, cupping her face. “No one stopping us.”

She grins. “We can have sex every day.”

You chuckle. “In every room in the apartment.”

She laughs softly, tilting her head as she kisses you again, but this time, her hands move—

To your pants.

Your breath catches as she unbuttons them, her fingers working quickly, like she’s been waiting for this. Your cock is already hard, straining against the fabric, aching to be freed.

She pulls it out.

You let out a sharp breath, your head falling back slightly as the cool air hits you, but that relief is short-lived because Karina—fuck—Karina is shifting, adjusting herself on your lap, lining herself up—

And then she sinks down.

Your whole body locks up.

“Fuck,” you groan, your hands flying to her hips as you feel the tight, hot grip of her pussy enveloping you completely.

Karina gasps, her nails digging into your shoulders as she takes you in, stretching around you, her breath stuttering.

She sighs, her eyes fluttering shut. “God, I missed this.”

You grip her hips tighter, barely holding yourself back. “Me too, baby.”

Then she starts moving.

She lifts herself slightly before dropping back down, making you both shudder at the sensation. She sets a slow rhythm at first, savoring the stretch, the fullness, the way you feel inside her.

Then, she picks up the pace.

Bouncing on your cock, her hands gripping your shoulders for support, her moans spilling freely into the space between you.

And fuck—this is what you’ve been missing.

Karina keeps bouncing on your cock, her movements growing more desperate, more eager, her slick heat squeezing around you with every roll of her hips. She’s fucking perfect like this—on top of you, taking you in deep, her body moving like she was made for this.

She reaches for the hem of her shirt, her breath shaky, her movements rushed. She pulls it over her head in one quick motion, tossing it aside, leaving her completely bare.

And fuck.

Her tits fall free, full and heavy, bouncing slightly with every movement.

Your mouth practically waters.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan, hands sliding up her body, over her waist, up to cup those perfect tits.

Karina moans at your touch, her back arching slightly. “You like?” she teases breathlessly.

You don’t even answer. You just act.

Your hands slide back down, gripping her hips before trailing lower, fingers grazing over the roundness of her ass.

And then—

You give her a playful, light slap.

It’s not hard—not yet—but it’s exactly what she likes, exactly what gets her going.

She whimpers, her whole body reacting, her walls tightening around your cock for a second.

That reaction? Fucking addictive.

So you do it again.

Another quick, teasing slap against the soft flesh of her ass.

She moans louder this time, her pace stuttering before she catches herself, moving faster now, chasing more of it, wanting more.

Her ass is just too fucking good not to touch.

You alternate between squeezing and slapping, making her whine, making her needier.

And while your hands are busy making her ass turn that beautiful shade of pink, your mouth moves down.

To her tits.

You latch onto one of her nipples, sucking it deep into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the stiff peak.

She cries out, her hands flying to your head, her fingers tangling in your hair as she gasps, “Fuck—baby—”

Karina’s fucking gone now. Obliterated by the sheer, animalistic need pulsing through her veins. Her hips are rolling like they’ve got a mind of their own, chasing that insane stretch of your cock splitting her open, filling every inch of her dripping, greedy pussy. She’s soaked—drenched—and every time she slams down on you, the wet, obscene squelch of her juices mixes with the slap of skin on skin, bouncing off the walls of the dimly lit living room like a goddamn porno soundtrack.

Her voice cracks through the haze, soft but so fucking desperate it’s almost a sob. “Fuck—you’re huge—so goddamn thick—I can feel you tearing me apart and it’s so fucking good—”

Your hands clamp down on her hips, fingers digging into her soft, sweaty flesh hard enough to leave marks. You yank her down harder, faster, forcing her to take every inch of you, her slick walls gripping you like a vice.

“Yeah? You fucking love this dick, don’t you?” you growl, eyes locked on her—those perfect, heavy tits bouncing with every thrust, her skin flushed and glowing under the shitty lamp light, sweat beading down her neck. She’s a goddamn mess, and it’s driving you wild.

She nods like her life depends on it, pupils blown out, breath coming in ragged, needy little gasps. “Love it—fuck, I’m obsessed—can’t stop wanting you—”

Your hands roam her body like you own it, sliding down the slick curve of her waist, then lower, grabbing fistfuls of her plump ass. You squeeze hard, feeling the muscle flex under your grip, and then—fuck it—you bring your hand down with a sharp, stinging crack against that perfect, round cheek.

The sound cuts through the air like a gunshot, blending with her filthy moans, and holy shit, the way she reacts—a choked gasp, her back arching so hard her tits press against your chest, her pussy squeezing you so tight it almost hurts—it’s like pouring gasoline on the fire raging inside you.

So you do it again. Harder. Another brutal slap, watching her ass jiggle and turn pink under your hand. She shudders, a whimper spilling out of her, and then you switch it up—bring your hand crashing down on one of those massive, bouncing tits. The smack lands right across her nipple, and she yelps, half-surprise, half-ecstasy, her hips bucking wilder, grinding down on you like she’s trying to break you.

“Fuck—do it again,” she pants, voice trembling with lust, and you don’t even hesitate—another hard slap to her tit, watching it ripple, watching her lose her damn mind. She’s bouncing faster now, completely unglued, her nails clawing at your shoulders as she rides you into oblivion.

Then—out of nowhere—she laughs. Not some cute little giggle, but a full-on, breathless, dirty laugh, wild and reckless, her eyes flashing with this dangerous, untamed heat. “If my parents knew I was getting my brains fucked out on their precious TV couch,��� she gasps, still slamming down on you like a goddamn jackhammer, “they’d fucking disown me—or maybe burn the damn thing.”

That hits you like a punch to the gut, a sick, twisted thrill twisting through your chest. The idea of it—their sweet little girl, their pride and joy, sprawled out right where they sit sipping coffee, getting her pussy wrecked by you, stuffed so full she’s shaking—it’s so wrong it’s perfect.

You laugh, low and rough. “Yeah, they’d lose their fucking minds.”

She giggles again, but it’s shaky, her whole body trembling as she teeters on the edge. “Guess I’m a real bad daughter, huh?”

You grab her jaw, rough but not cruel, tilting her face so she’s forced to look at you. “The fucking worst,” you rasp, voice thick with want.

Her lips twitch into a smirk, her eyes blazing into yours, dripping with heat and something softer, something that catches you off guard. “You still love me, though?”

No pause, no doubt. “Damn right I do.”

For a split second, time slows—her gaze softens, and you feel it, that raw, real thread tying you together beneath all the filth. But then her lips part, and her voice drops into this pleading, broken whimper—

“Then fucking make me cum, baby. Please.”

And that’s it. That’s the match that lights the dynamite.

You snap.

In one fluid move, you wrap your arms around her waist, flip her onto her back, and pin her to the couch like a goddamn animal. She gasps, legs hooking around your hips on instinct as you rear back and slam into her—hard, deep, ruthless. The cushions groan under the force, the whole damn room vibrating with the wet, obscene slap-slap-slap of your bodies colliding.

Karina screams, her hands scrabbling at your chest, nails raking red lines down your skin. “Oh fuck—yes—harder—” Her words dissolve into choked, gasping moans, her head thrashing side to side as you pound into her, relentless, unmerciful.

Her pussy’s a sopping mess, soaking your thighs, your cock, the couch—everything. The sounds are pornographic, loud and shameless, and you can’t get enough. You grip her hips so tight you can feel her bones, yanking her down to meet every brutal thrust, watching her tits bounce wildly, her body bending under you like she’s made for this.

She’s unraveling—fast. You can see it in the way her eyes roll back, the way her voice cracks into these frantic, babbling cries. “Baby—fuck—I’m gonna—oh my god—I can’t—”

You lean down, growl rough and low in her ear. “You’re gonna cum for me, huh? Gonna make a fucking mess all over me?”

She nods, frantic, clawing at the cushions like they’re her lifeline. “Yes—yes—fuck, please don’t stop—”

You don’t. You can’t. You’re too far gone, too caught up in the way she’s falling apart beneath you. You shift your angle just a hair, hitting that spot deep inside her that makes her whole body jerk, and she lets out this high, keening wail—

“There—right there—oh fuck—”

You feel it before she even says it—her pussy clamps down around you like a fucking trap, so tight it’s almost painful, and you lose it. You grab her thighs, shove them up higher, and start railing her so hard the couch skids a inch across the floor.

“Cum for me,” you snarl, voice raw and commanding. “Fucking soak me, baby—let it go.”

And she does.

Her orgasm hits like a goddamn explosion—her whole body seizes up, back arching off the couch, legs shaking so hard you have to hold them down. A scream rips out of her, loud and jagged, as her pussy pulses around you, gushing wet heat that spills down your cock, dripping onto the cushions. She’s thrashing, sobbing, completely fucking wrecked, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

That’s all it takes.

You bury yourself deep—one last brutal thrust—and blow. A guttural, primal groan tears from your throat as you cum, pumping thick, hot spurts inside her, filling her up until you can feel it leaking out around you. The pleasure’s blinding, searing through you like a wildfire, your whole body trembling as you ride it out, hips jerking with the aftershocks.

For a long, hazy minute, you’re both still—panting, sweaty, tangled together like a car crash. Her chest heaves, her eyes half-lidded and glassy, and you can feel her heartbeat thudding through her ribs where you’re pressed against her.

Then she laughs—weak, breathless, almost delirious. “...What the fuck was that?”

You chuckle, hoarse and wrecked, dropping your forehead to her shoulder. “That was us fucking ruining this couch.”

She snorts, running shaky fingers through your damp hair. “Yeah, well... worth it. You really made your bad girl cum her brains out.”

You pull back just enough to grin at her, smug as hell. “Told you I would.”

Then, suddenly, she shifts, standing on shaky feet. She looks down at you, eyes dark with something insatiable, and then she smirks.

“Come to my room.”

Your whole body tenses.

She doesn’t even wait for a response. She turns on her heel, walking toward the hallway, her naked form moving with a effortless, teasing sway of her hips.

Your brain barely processes the movement of you standing up, but before you follow her, you flip the wet couch cushions, just in case. Your heart is still pounding, your cock still hard despite having just cum, because fuck—this night isn’t over yet.

The moment you step into her room, you’re already yanking off your clothes, tossing them aside in a rush. Karina stands by the bed, watching you, waiting, her bare body bathed in the dim glow of her bedside lamp.

Her tits rise and fall with every breath, her nipples still flushed, her thighs still wet with the mess you made of her earlier. Her lips are slightly parted, her expression filled with anticipation, and you know she wants more.

You reach her in two strides, your hands instantly finding her waist as you pull her in for a deep, messy kiss. Your tongues collide, your hands roam, and she melts against you, completely surrendering to the way you’re guiding her, the way you need her.

Between kisses, her voice comes out breathy, teasing. “Think you can make me squirt again?”

You smirk, squeezing her cheek lightly, making her look directly into your eyes. “I’ll try,” you murmur, dragging your thumb across her lips before gripping her jaw. “But you’re gonna have to be a good girl for me.”

She shivers at that, her body reacting before her words even come out. “I will,” she breathes, nodding slightly.

You release her face, letting your hands slide down to her hips before giving her a little nudge. “Then get on all fours for me.”

That does it.

She whimpers, eyes fluttering shut for a second as a wave of heat washes over her. Then, without hesitation, she turns, climbing onto the bed, shifting into position.

And fuck, the sight of her like this—knees pressed into the mattress, arms braced against the sheets, her back arched so perfectly, her ass sticking out for you, her glistening pussy already exposed and waiting—makes your blood run hot.

You kneel behind her, your hands instantly moving to her hips, then lower, grabbing two handfuls of her perfect ass. You squeeze, hard, watching the way the flesh dimples under your grip, the way she trembles slightly at your touch.

“You love this, don’t you?” you murmur, sliding one hand down, letting your fingers tease along the wet heat between her thighs.

She gasps, shifting slightly, pushing back against your touch. “Yes,” she whispers, voice shaking. “I love being used like this by you.” Her eyes, glassy with pleasure, lock onto yours, wide and dark, pupils blown out. She’s already panting, already lost in it, her lips parted as soft little whimpers spill from her throat. “Please,” she murmurs, her hips shifting, desperate for more.

That’s all you need to hear. You shift closer, lining yourself up, your body pressed flush against hers. Your cock nudges her entrance, teasing her for just a second—letting the tip drag through her wetness, feeling the way her heat pulses around you. She twitches, a desperate little jerk of her hips, and her breath catches, stuttering in her chest like she’s about to lose it already.

Her head turns slightly, glassy eyes locking onto yours over her shoulder—wide, dark, and drowning in lust, her pupils so blown out there’s barely any color left. Her lips part, soft, needy whimpers spilling out, and she’s panting like she’s already halfway gone. “Please,” she whispers, hips shifting again, practically grinding herself against you. “Please, baby—fuck me.”

You don’t make her wait.

With one hard, smooth thrust, you sink into her, burying yourself deep. She moans, loud and broken, her hands fisting the sheets as her body jolts forward from the force. Her pussy’s so wet, so tight, gripping you like it’s trying to pull you in even deeper. You don’t hold back—grabbing her hips, you start fucking her hard, steady, every thrust slamming into her with a wet smack that fills the room.

You tighten your grip, yanking her back onto your cock with every thrust, watching the way her spine curves, the way her head drops forward like she’s surrendering completely. “So fucking good,” you growl, one hand sliding up her back, fingers tangling in her hair to pull her head back just enough to hear her better. Her moans turn into cries, high-pitched and frantic, her whole body shaking as you pound into her.

“Harder—please—fuck me harder,” she begs, voice cracking, and it’s like she’s handing you the reins to break her. You oblige—slamming into her so hard the bed creaks, the headboard thudding against the wall. Her ass claps against your hips, loud and filthy, and the wet heat of her pussy is dripping down her thighs, soaking everything, making a mess of you both.

Her pussy’s clenching harder now, gripping you like a fucking fist, and you can tell she’s teetering right on the edge, so close but not quite there yet. You lean forward, chest pressed to her sweaty back, one hand sliding around to grip her throat—not tight, just enough to feel her pulse hammering under your fingers. “Gonna make you cum so hard, babe,” you say. “Gonna make you ruin this fucking bed.”

She whimpers, a desperate little sob catching in her throat as she nods, frantic. “Yes—please—fuck, I’m so close—please don’t stop—”

You don’t. You’re too fucking lost in it, hips slamming into her with these loud, wet smacks that echo through the room. Her ass—still red and hot from those slaps—jiggles against you, her body rocking forward with every brutal thrust. She’s a mess, babbling nonsense—Oh god—baby—harder—her arms buckling as she collapses face-first into the mattress, ass still up, taking everything you’re giving her.

But fuck, you’ve been holding it in too long. All that cum’s been building up, heavy and tight in your balls, and it’s starting to get to you. You can feel it—the pressure’s insane, like your cock’s about to burst. Your rhythm stutters, hips jerking unevenly as it hits you, this sudden, uncontrollable surge. A low, guttural groan rips out of you, and you pull out just enough to fist your cock, leaking hot and thick right onto her.

The first spurt lands hard across her back, a messy splash of cum painting her flushed, sweaty skin. She flinches, a sharp, needy gasp spilling out of her as the heat hits, her body trembling under you. “Fuck—what—?” she pants, twisting her head to glance back, eyes wide and wild. You’re still leaking, another thick dribble spilling out, dripping down her spine toward that perfect, red ass, and she moans, low and filthy, like it’s turning her on even more.

“More,” she whines, voice cracking with desperation, her hips wiggling back toward you. “Don’t stop—give me more, baby—please—”

You growl, still stroking yourself through it, letting another pulse leak out. This time, you press the tip of your cock right against her ass—teasing that tight little hole, not going in, just smearing the cum there, watching it drip slow down her crack. She shivers, a full-body shudder, and pushes back against you like she’s begging for it. “Fuck—that’s so hot,” she gasps, her fingers clawing at the sheets. “Keep going—I need you back inside me—now.”

You’re still hard as hell, cock throbbing, slick with her juices and your own leak. She’s got you wound up so tight, and the way she’s pleading—fuck, it’s like she’s pulling you apart. You grab her hips, rough and possessive, and line yourself up again, slamming back into her pussy with one deep, punishing thrust. She cries out, loud and raw, her whole body jolting forward as you pick up the pace again, fucking her even harder than before.

“Like that?” you snarl, voice dripping with heat as you watch her ass bounce against you, still glistening with your cum. “You want it all, huh? Greedy little thing.”

“Yes—yes—” she sobs, voice muffled against the mattress, her back arching sharper to take you deeper. “Fuck me ‘til I can’t think—‘til I’m fucking done—please—”

You’re relentless now, pounding into her so hard the bed groans under you, her pussy soaking you, dripping down your thighs. That leak took the edge off, but you’re still so full, still ready to blow, and she’s egging you on, her needy cries and the way she’s clenching around you driving you fucking insane. Her ass is still hot under your hands, the red marks glowing, and every slap of your hips against her makes her whimper louder, begging for more, more, more.

But you’ve got other plans. You grab her hips, flipping her onto her back in one rough move. She gasps, legs falling open instinctively as she lands on the bed, sprawled out beneath you in the missionary position. Her chest heaves, tits bouncing with the motion, her face flushed and wrecked—eyes half-lidded, lips swollen and parted, still trembling from the aftershocks. Her pussy’s a mess, glistening and leaking, thighs slick with her own cum and yours. She barely has time to react before you’re on her again, spreading her thighs, hooking them over your arms, keeping her completely open for you.

Definitely the best position for this—for watching her face twist in pleasure, for seeing every expression she makes, every little gasp, every time her mouth drops open when you hit the perfect spot inside her. And fuck, you do hit it. Over and over, with every deep, hard thrust.

Her hands fly to your shoulders first, gripping you like she’s trying to ground herself, like she needs something solid to hold onto. But then, as the pleasure builds, as your pace quickens, her hands slide lower, down her own body, until her fingers find her clit.

You groan at the sight, at the way she starts rubbing herself, fast, desperate, completely lost in it. “Oh my god,” she whimpers, her thighs trembling, her breath catching in her throat. “Oh my god, baby—”

You know what’s coming. You can feel it in the way she’s tightening around you, the way her hips are bucking, her whole body trembling. She’s right there, right on the edge, and fuck, that’s exactly what you want.

Your grip on Karina’s hips tightens as you pound into her, her body arching beneath you, legs trembling around your waist. She’s so damn wet, her slickness coating your skin, making every thrust smoother, deeper, faster. The air is thick with the sound of your bodies colliding, with the ragged breaths and soft gasps slipping from her lips. But she’s not moaning anymore—no, she’s past that.

Her fingers work her clit in fast, desperate circles, chasing her high, pushing herself over that delicious edge. And when she finally tips over? She screams.

Not just a moan, not just a breathy little whimper—a all-out, unrestrained, shaking, spine-arching cry of pleasure that echoes through the room. It’s raw, untamed, and fuck, it’s perfect.

“That’s it,” you growl, barely holding yourself together, watching her body tense beneath you, feeling the way her walls clamp down around you. “Don’t stop. Let it happen.”

She doesn’t. If anything, she pushes herself harder, rubbing herself furiously as her orgasm tears through her. And then—

It happens.

Her whole body jerks, back bowing off the mattress as a fresh wave of wetness gushes out of her, soaking you, soaking the sheets, soaking everything. It’s overwhelming, messy, absolutely beautiful.

And she’s still going.

Her thighs shake violently as aftershocks hit her, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. You don’t slow down. You can’t slow down. You thrust faster, deeper, watching her completely fall apart beneath you.

“Look at you,” you murmur, gripping her waist tighter, keeping her steady as she trembles through another wave of pleasure. “So damn beautiful when you lose yourself like this.”

She hears you, and somehow, it makes her push even further. Her eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, her fingers never leaving her clit. “I—I’m gonna—”

You already know.

And then she’s screaming again, her body convulsing as a second orgasm rips through her. This one’s even harder than the first, her legs kicking out, her hands gripping at anything—your arms, the sheets, the air. Another surge of wetness spills from her, a deep, shaking moan caught in her throat as her body gives in completely.

“That’s my girl,” you whisper, slowing just enough to draw it out, to let her feel everything.

Her eyes roll back. Her mouth drops open in a silent gasp, the pleasure so overwhelming she can’t even form words anymore. She’s ruined, wrecked, gone.

And still, you don’t let up.

You slide a hand between her thighs, rubbing her clit slowly now, teasing her overstimulated nerves, pulling the last bits of pleasure from her. She twitches, a tiny, choked whimper escaping her lips—then one final, weak gush spills out of her. Small, almost cute, the last bit of her completely giving in.

She’s done.

Karina lies there, body still shaking, chest heaving, sweat glistening on her flushed skin. The sheets beneath her are absolutely drenched, a visible reminder of everything you just did to her.

You hover over her, watching as her eyes finally refocus on you, still hazy, still lost in the remnants of her pleasure. You brush damp hair from her face, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

“You okay?” you murmur, voice softer now, laced with satisfaction.

She swallows hard, nodding weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You almost killed me.”

You smirk, leaning down to kiss her swollen lips. “And you loved every second of it.”

A tired little giggle bubbles out of her, her fingers lazily tracing your arm. “I’m never walking again.”

You chuckle, running your hands down her sides, feeling the way she still twitches under your touch. “Worth it?”

She gives you a lazy, blissed-out grin. “So worth it.”

She’s sticky, spent, her thighs slick with the proof of how hard she came, and fuck—you can’t stop looking at her. The way her skin glows under the dim light, the faint sheen of sweat across her collarbone, the lazy, blissed-out smile tugging at her lips.

“You came a lot,” you murmur, your thumb brushing over the inside of her thigh, collecting some of the slick there just to tease her.

Karina laughs breathlessly, tucking herself closer against you. “I know,” she whispers, voice still a little shaky. “I—I can feel it. It’s everywhere.”

You smirk, fingers trailing higher, skimming just close enough to make her shiver, her legs twitching in response. “And how are you gonna clean up this mess?”

She bites her lip, eyes hazy with exhaustion and something else—something playful, teasing. “I don’t know…” she admits, cheeks flushing. “Maybe I’ll just sleep in it. Let it dry. Pretend it never happened.”

You groan, head tilting back against the pillows. “Fuck, babe. Don’t say shit like that unless you want me to go again.”

She giggles, pressing a sleepy kiss to your collarbone. “You’re insatiable,” she murmurs. “It’s kinda hot.”

You roll over, pinning her under you again just to feel the heat of her, the way she immediately gasps, eyes going wide. You don’t even do anything, just hover there, feeling her warmth, the rapid beat of her heart against your chest. Her lips part, her breath catching.

“Insatiable, huh?” you echo, smirking.

She swallows, her fingers curling into your hair, her nails scratching lightly against your scalp. “Yeah,” she whispers. “But I love it.”

Your heart clenches, the way it always does when she says things like that, when she looks at you like you hung the fucking stars just for her. You don’t even realize you’re moving until your lips are on hers, slow, deep, lingering. You kiss her like you’ve got all the time in the world, like you never want to stop. And she melts into it, pressing closer, sighing softly into your mouth.

“I love you so much,” you murmur against her lips, meaning it in a way that makes your chest ache.

She smiles, eyes fluttering open, fingers trailing down your chest. “I love you too,” she whispers, and then—just like that—her hand is back on your cock, stroking slow, lazy, teasing.

You groan, your hips jerking slightly into her grip. She smirks.

“Where do you want to cum?” she asks, all innocent, like she doesn’t already know the answer.

You raise a brow, lips quirking. “Really?”

She tilts her head, her grip tightening just slightly. “What?”

“You already know.”

She hums, pretending to think, but you can see the amusement in her eyes. “On my boobs?”

You grin. “Obviously.”

She sighs, mock dramatic. “You always wanna cum on my boobs.”

“You’re acting like it’s a bad thing.”

She laughs. “Didn’t say that.”

“Good,” you murmur, rolling off her, sitting up at the edge of the bed. “Then get over here.”

Karina follows you and moves, but the second her feet hit the floor, her legs wobble, and she stumbles, catching herself against the mattress.

You snort. “Damn, babe. You good?”

She glares at you, cheeks pink, but she’s grinning. “Shut up,” she mutters. “You did this to me.”

“I know,” you say, smug. “And I love seeing you like this.”

She sticks her tongue out at you before stepping closer, standing between your legs, completely bare, her skin still flushed, her thighs still sticky.

And fuck—you’ll never get tired of looking at her.

She doesn’t say anything, just reaches up, cupping her own breasts, squeezing them together like she knows exactly what it does to you. Her tits are already perfect, full and soft, but like this, pressed together, forming that perfect valley of warmth—fuck.

She meets your gaze, lips curling. “Ready?”

Before you can answer, she leans down slightly, spits between her breasts, letting it drip down before rubbing it in, spreading it, making herself even slicker for you.

Your cock twitches.

“Karina,” you groan, your jaw tightening. “You’re actually trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

She laughs, warm and sweet, but there’s something else in her eyes—something darker, teasing. “Mm,” she hums, pressing your cock between her tits, wrapping them around you in that impossibly soft, perfect warmth. “I’d never.”

Then she starts to move.

She doesn’t rush. She knows exactly how you like it—slow at first, letting the warmth sink in, letting the slick glide over your skin. The pressure is perfect, just tight enough, her tits molding around your cock like they were fucking made for this. She watches your face, gauging every reaction, waiting for that moment your jaw tenses, your breath stutters.

“God, Karina,” you groan, hands finding their way to her shoulders, holding onto her, needing something to ground you.

She smirks, rolling her shoulders slightly to change the angle, pressing you tighter, making your cock slide even smoother between her tits. “Feels good?”

“You fucking know it does.”

She laughs, the sound vibrating through her chest, and you swear you feel it all the way down to your cock. Then, just to drive you insane, she sticks out her tongue, letting the tip just barely brush against your swollen, leaking head every time you thrust forward.

“Fuck,” you hiss, hips jerking involuntarily. “You’re—shit—”

“Hot?” she supplies, teasing.

You groan. “You already know.”

She grins, keeping her movements steady, smooth, effortless. Every glide, every stroke is better than the last, the warmth of her, the way she presses you tighter each time—it’s too fucking much. You know you’re close already, but you don’t wanna stop, don’t wanna let it end.

“How much do you love me?” she asks suddenly, her voice playful, light.

You look down at her, and your chest tightens. She’s smiling, her eyes sparkling, her skin glowing. She looks so happy, so perfect, and in this moment, you don’t think you’ve ever loved anyone more.

You brush her hair back, thumb stroking her cheek. “More than anything,” you murmur. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Her breath catches slightly, just for a second, but then she’s grinning again, pressing her tits even tighter around you. “Then cum for me,” she whispers. “I wanna feel your hot cum on my tits.”

Her tongue flicks out, teasing your tip, licking up the steady drip of precum leaking from you.

“You always make such a mess,” she murmurs, her voice low and teasing, her lips just barely grazing your swollen head before she pulls back with a wicked smirk. “Bet you wanna cum all over me, huh?”

You groan, gripping her shoulders tighter. “Karina, fuck—”

She hums in amusement, squeezing her tits together tighter, moving faster. “So desperate,” she coos, tilting her head as she watches your face. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Make a mess all over my tits?”

Your jaw clenches, your whole body coiling up, right fucking there. “Fuck, yeah, I—”

DING-DONG.

Your entire world stops.

The doorbell rings again.

A knock follows almost immediately.

And then, a voice—deep, familiar, fucking horrifying.

“Karina, open the door! We forgot the key.”

Karina’s father.

Your stomach plummets.

Karina freezes, her tits still pressed around your cock, hands gripping herself tightly, pupils blowing wide with pure, unfiltered panic.

Your brain goes static. Every part of you is still humming with the need to cum, and now it’s colliding headfirst into the very real terror of being caught like this—naked, hard as fuck, seconds away from spilling all over her perfect tits while her dad is standing right outside the door.

“Holy fucking shit,” you whisper, heart pounding.

Karina swallows, her mind racing. Then, before you can do anything, she shouts toward the door, her voice just barely steady. “C—coming! Just—uh—give me a second!”

Another knock. Impatient. Firm.

Her mother’s voice now. “We’ve been knocking for a while, sweetie. What are you doing in there?”

Karina’s eyes snap to yours.

And then—

That wild fucking look flashes through them.

“Baby,” she whispers, tits still pressing together around your cock, slick and tight. “Cum. Now.”

You stare at her. “Are you insane?!”

She bites her lip, shifts slightly, rubbing her tits together just right, and your hips jerk forward, completely on instinct. “If you don’t, you’re going to run away from here still hard,” she whispers, voice dripping with something dangerous. “With your cock still leaking, all needy and desperate.”

You groan, throwing your head back, torn between sheer terror and white-hot fucking lust.

“You’re actually insane,” you hiss, body trembling, every inch of you straining toward release even as your fucking life is flashing before your eyes.

She grins. “You love it.”

Then she starts moving again.

Faster this time. Harder.

“You have, like, thirty seconds,” she whispers, squeezing you tighter, pumping her tits up and down around your cock like she’s hell-bent on ruining you. “Better cum fast, baby.”

“Holy—fucking—shit,” you groan, fists clenching in the sheets, your entire body burning.

The knock on the door comes again. “Karina.”

Her father’s voice is sharp now, insistent.

Karina doesn’t even look away. Her breath is hot against your cock, her tongue flicking just barely over your tip every time you thrust between her tits.

“Come on, baby,” she whispers, voice like satin over fire, her tits bouncing in time with her strokes. “You can do it. Just let go for me.”

“Karina—fuck—” You’re so close, your vision blurring at the edges, that sweet fucking burn coiling deep in your stomach.

Karina doesn’t stop.

She doesn’t slow down, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t flinch—not even with the knock at the door, not even with her father right there, waiting, expecting her to answer. If anything, the urgency only fuels her, makes her hands move faster, makes her press her tits together tighter, makes her mouth filthy as she coaxes you closer to the edge.

“Come on, baby,” she whispers, her voice breathy, desperate, dripping with heat. “Give it to me. I need it.”

Your stomach is a coiled spring, that burning pressure inside you mounting so hard and fast you can barely breathe. The mix of fear, adrenaline, and raw, aching pleasure is making your pulse roar in your ears, every part of you strung tight as a fucking wire.

“You gonna cum for me?” she presses, her tits squeezing, bouncing, slick and warm, wrapped so fucking tight around you.

“Fuck—fuck, yeah—” Your voice is rough, your head tilting back, every nerve in your body locking up as you hit the point of no return.

Karina leans in, her lips just inches from your tip, her tongue flicking out one last time, and in that needy, desperate, breathless voice, she begs—

“Cum for me, baby. Give it to me. I want all of it.”

And that’s it.

That’s the fucking end of you.

Your whole body locks up, a broken groan ripping out of your throat as the pleasure finally fucking snaps. Your cock jerks, your abs tightening as thick, hot spurts spill out, painting Karina’s perfect, heaving chest.

She moans, her breath catching, her eyes dark with hunger as she watches your cum spill over her tits, sliding between the valley of soft, flushed skin.

She doesn’t stop.

She keeps squeezing, her hands milking every last drop, her fingers digging in as she rubs her tits together, making sure she gets it all.

“Fuck, fuck—” You don’t even recognize your own voice anymore, wrecked, your hips jerking weakly, your whole body shaking from how hard you’re cumming. It doesn’t stop, each pulse sending another hot rope onto her skin, dripping down the curve of her breasts, pooling in the dip of her collarbone.

She’s completely covered in you.

Your vision blurs. Your lungs burn. The pleasure is too much, too deep, too fucking intense. Your head spins as the last weak tremors shake through you, every muscle in your body spent.

You sag back onto the mattress, exhaling hard, your heart still slamming against your ribs.

Karina grins, rubbing a finger through the mess, spreading it over her skin, her tongue flicking out to taste a drop of it. “You always cum so much for me,” she purrs.

You’re about to say something—something cocky, something filthy—

But then—

Another knock.

Louder.

“Karina!” Her dad’s voice is sharp now, no longer patient. “What is taking so long?”

Karina’s eyes widen, and suddenly, the reality of the situation slams back into both of you.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

She whips around, grabbing the nearest thing—a crumpled tissue from her nightstand—and starts wiping herself down, frantically dabbing at her chest, trying to clean up the mess before her parents fucking bust the door down.

She’s panting, her hands shaking slightly as she grabs more, working fast, trying to get rid of every trace. “Baby, you have to go. Now.”

You’re already moving, stumbling to your feet, your limbs still weak, your brain still sluggish from the sheer force of that orgasm. You snatch your clothes off the floor, yanking on your pants with shaking hands, fumbling with the zipper as Karina rushes to her closet, grabbing the first thing she can find—a loose hoodie and some pajama shorts.

“Karina.” Another knock. “We’re waiting!”

She yells back, voice strained. “I’m coming, just—just hold on!”

She pulls the hoodie over her head, wiping her chest one last time before whirling on you. “The window,” she breathes.

You nod, grabbing your shirt, not even bothering to button it as you stumble toward the window, your heart pounding out of your chest.

Karina grabs your arm, pulling you back for one last, hurried kiss, her lips soft, warm, frantic against yours.

“I love you,” she whispers, breathless.

You squeeze her waist, your forehead dropping to hers for half a second before pulling back. “I love you too.”

Then—you’re gone.

You slip out the window, landing hard on the grass outside, your legs still shaky as fuck, your body still buzzing with the lingering aftershocks. You don’t have time to process it—you just move, running quietly, disappearing into the night just as you hear the sound of Karina’s door unlocking behind you, ready to leap into your car and disappear completely.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

That was way too close.

Karina yanks open the door, still breathless, her pulse pounding so loud in her ears she can barely hear her father’s impatient sigh. He’s standing there, arms crossed, brows furrowed, looking at her like she’s already guilty of something. Her mother is behind him, rubbing her temples, looking exhausted and irritated, like the entire day has been one long, drawn-out headache.

“You took your time,” her dad says, stepping inside without waiting for a invitation. His eyes sweep over her, sharp and assessing, and she suddenly feels way too warm in her hoodie.

“I was—uh, I was changing,” she stammers, tucking her hair behind her ear as she follows them into the living room. “Got comfortable and didn’t wanna open the door like that, you know?” She forces a sheepish smile, hoping they don’t hear how unsteady her voice is.

Her father doesn’t seem convinced, but her mother is already waving a dismissive hand, dropping onto the couch with a weary sigh. “It doesn’t matter. We have bigger things to talk about.”

Karina perks up immediately, desperate for anything that’ll shift their attention away from her. “Oh? What happened?”

Her mother exhales sharply, rubbing her temples. “The wedding’s postponed.”

That actually throws her. “Wait, what? Seriously?”

Her dad nods, his jaw tight with irritation. “The priest never showed up.”

Karina blinks. What the hell kind of excuse is that? “What? Why?”

Her mother groans, sinking deeper into the couch like she wants to disappear into it. “Emergency surgery. Can you believe that? Of all the damn days, he picks today to have a medical crisis.”

Karina presses her lips together, trying so hard not to laugh. “Uh. That sucks.”

“Sucks?” Her dad snorts. “That’s one way to put it. Half the guests had already arrived, the reception was prepped, and then we get told—‘sorry, no priest, no wedding.’” His scowl deepens, shaking his head. “It’s a disaster.”

“Total nightmare,” her mother agrees, sighing. “And now we have to wait for them to reschedule the wedding. We will have to reorganize everything again—ugh, I don’t even want to think about it.”

Karina nods sympathetically, even though she barely cares. She’s just grateful they aren’t questioning her right now. “Yeah. That’s… awful. Really awful.”

But then her father’s eyes narrow slightly, lingering on her face. “Why are you blushing?”

Karina freezes. She didn’t even realize she was. Heat is practically radiating off her, her cheeks still flushed from everything that happened minutes ago, her body still tingling in the aftermath.

“I—I’m blushing?” she asks, stalling. “Really?” She presses a hand to her cheek like she’s just now noticing, playing dumb. “Huh. I guess I got warm running around getting dressed.”

Her dad squints at her, clearly unconvinced, but before he can push any further, her mom frowns at something behind her.

“What’s your shirt doing on the couch?”

Karina whips around, stomach dropping through the floor.

There it is. The shirt she was wearing earlier. The one she was wearing while you were fucking her on that very couch. The one she took off, carelessly tossed aside in the heat of the moment, and completely forgot about.

Her brain stalls, panic roaring through her.

“I—” She swallows hard. “I guess I just—forgot to pick it up.”

Her father frowns, shaking his head. “You know we don’t like clothes scattered around the house.”

“I know, I know.” She forces a nervous laugh, grabbing it so fast it’s almost suspicious. “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”

Her dad just gives her a look, but thankfully, he doesn’t say anything else. Her mom sighs again, waving a dismissive hand. “Whatever. Just put it in the laundry.”

“Yep, will do,” Karina says quickly, turning to escape before something else goes wrong. But just as she’s about to flee the scene, her father’s voice stops her.

“Hold on.”

She stiffens. Turns back way too slowly.

“What?”

Her dad’s expression is unreadable, but there’s a strange sharpness in his voice now. “On our way here, I noticed a car parked down the street.”

Karina’s stomach tightens. “Yeah?”

Her dad nods. “Looked a lot like the car that guy you used to date drove.”

Her breath catches, but she forces herself to play dumb. “Oh?” she says, as casually as she can. “Uh. You sure?”

Her dad narrows his eyes slightly. “Yeah. Same model, same color.”

Karina shakes her head quickly. “I mean, that’s a pretty common car. Could’ve been anyone’s.”

Her dad doesn’t look fully convinced. “Maybe.” Then, before she can stop him, he gestures toward the door. “Come outside with me. Let’s check.”

Karina’s heart slams against her ribs. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

She hesitates just a second too long before nodding quickly. “Yeah. Sure.”

They step out onto the porch, the streetlights casting long shadows over the pavement. Her father looks around, scanning the parked cars along the curb, eyes sharp, searching. Karina barely breathes, her stomach twisting into knots. If your car is still there, she’s fucked. She follows his gaze, trying not to look as panicked as she feels, praying. But when they look—Nothing. No car.

You’re gone.

She barely stops herself from sagging in relief, instead turning to her father with a casual shrug. “See? Nothing there.”

He frowns slightly, looking around like he doesn’t quite believe it, but after a moment, he just mutters, “Guess I was wrong.”

Before Karina can fully celebrate surviving this, her mother’s voice cuts through the night, sharp and exhausted. “What the hell are you two doing out there? Get inside!”

Karina nods quickly, practically bolting for the door, her father following behind, still looking a little suspicious but thankfully dropping it.

This time, she actually escaped.

Barely.

—

Your phone buzzes just past midnight, Karina’s name lighting up the screen. You don’t even hesitate, answering immediately, her voice coming through the line soft but amused.

“Hey,” she whispers, and you can hear the rustle of sheets in the background. She’s in bed, probably curled up under the covers, trying not to wake anyone.

“Hey, baby,” you murmur back, your voice just as low. “You okay?”

She exhales a quiet laugh. “I survived. Barely.”

You smirk, shifting onto your back, getting comfortable. “Yeah? What happened?”

Karina sighs, like she’s replaying the whole thing in her head. “My dad was suspicious as hell. He saw your car on the street and wanted to go check, but by some miracle, you were already gone. If you’d been there even a second longer—” She cuts herself off, and you can practically hear her shudder on the other end.

“Damn,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Close call.”

“Way too close,” she agrees, her voice dipping lower. “And then my mom found my shirt on the couch—the one I took off while we were, you know… and I had to pretend I just forgot to put it away. My dad was already looking at me weird, and then she asked why I was blushing, and I had nothing. No excuse. Just standing there like a idiot while I could still feel your—” She stops herself, groaning softly. “God. The whole thing was a disaster.”

You chuckle, amused at how frazzled she sounds now that it’s over. “But you pulled it off. Got away with it again.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, a hint of pride in her voice. “I always do.”

You smirk, shifting the phone against your ear. “And what about the mess?”

“What mess?” she asks, and then realization hits. “Oh. That.”

You snort. “Yeah, that. What’d you do with the squirt-stained bed, babe?”

She groans. “Ugh. I had to change everything. Sheets, pillowcases, everything went straight into the washing machine the second my parents went to bed. The mattress was safe, thank god. I think if I ruined my bed like that, I’d have to just set it on fire and move away.”

You laugh, picturing her rushing around, cleaning up, making sure there was no evidence left behind. It’s ridiculous, the lengths you both go to just to be together, but there’s something kind of thrilling about it too.

“You’re such a menace,” you tease.

“Says the guy who made me do that in the first place,” she fires back.

You grin. “Worth it?”

She pauses, then hums. “So worth it.”

You both fall quiet for a moment, the comfortable silence stretching between you. You love this—these little stolen moments, these late-night calls where you can just exist together, even if it’s only through the phone.

“You seeing me tomorrow?” you ask, knowing the answer but wanting to hear her say it.

“Mhm,” she murmurs, voice warm. “Cinema, remember? Told my parents I’m going with a friend.”

You smirk. “We should really start keeping track of how many lies you’ve told just to see me.”

She giggles. “At this point, it’s gotta be in the triple digits.”

“Totally worth it.”

“Absolutely,” she agrees, voice soft.

“Get some sleep, baby,” you murmur. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Mm. Night, babe.”

You both hesitate, neither of you wanting to hang up first, but eventually, Karina whispers one last “love you” before ending the call.

The next day, you meet her outside the cinema, standing near the entrance, watching as she walks toward you. She’s wearing something simple—just jeans and a cute cropped hoodie—but she looks gorgeous, her hair down, her face lit up with that familiar mischievous smile.

“Hey, troublemaker,” you greet, grinning.

She rolls her eyes but laughs. “Says you.”

You tuck your hands into your pockets, smirking. “Our life is a goddamn adventure at this point.”

Karina snorts. “No kidding. I feel like I should start journaling everything before we end up in a documentary.”

You chuckle, reaching for her hand, pulling her close. “Yeah? You like the adrenaline rush?”

She pretends to think about it for a second, then grins. “I kinda do.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, watching her expression.

She leans in slightly, her voice quieter. “But I think what I like more is just… being with you. Even if it means sneaking around and making up a thousand excuses.”

Your heart clenches a little, warmth spreading through your chest. You squeeze her fingers, giving her a knowing smile. “You won’t have to lie forever.”

She nods, eyes flickering with something softer, more serious. “College is almost over. Once we’re out of here… nothing can separate us.”

You love the way she says it, like it’s a promise. Like there’s no doubt in her mind.

“Nothing,” you agree.

She smiles, pulling you toward the entrance. “Now, come on. We actually have to watch the movie, or my parents are gonna ask for a recap later.”

You chuckle, following her inside, feeling that familiar buzz of excitement—not just from sneaking around, not just from the thrill of getting away with it again, but from knowing that college is almost over. The endless rules, the curfews, the constant risk of getting caught—it’s all temporary. Soon, you won’t have to make excuses. You won’t have to sneak out of windows. It’ll just be you and Karina, no secrets, no hiding. Just the future waiting for you.

And honestly? You can’t fucking wait.

[exy-foxies]

It is so funny to me that Jeremy tried to CALL NEIL to get him to tell KEVIN to STOP NIGHT PRACTICES. Hilarating. Pick of humor there.

[justmylvr]

everlasting.

new dad!katsuki bakugo x fem reader.

a/n: aaaAH! i know i might have mistyped his personality a little bit but i got so excited.

despite the pain you were in, this was heaven. it was a dream come true when you saw your husband holding your little baby, when he carried her carseat out, and how tender he was with her.

she was perfect. she had the prettiest blonde hair, thick and curly which hadn't been expected. your eyes were practically glued to her during the hospital stay. though katsuki already kicked in protectiveness into gear, not allowing her to leave the room unless he accompanied them. he's heard too many stories about babies being switched or just taken.

it was a week after and you two were so, very confused. she had slept through every. single. night. without an issue. the doctor you guys had visited to check on both you and her found nothing to be wrong. she was perfectly healthy, she just found her perfect rhythm. of course you had to make a bottle up and feed her every few hours, though not being extremely sleep deprived was really beneficial.

katsuki took wonderful care of both you and hayami. he was terribly stubborn in everything, especially with you getting up. he wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as you could be. he would pick you up half the time you needed anything, grumbling something about 'don't be an idiot'.

some of your favorite moments of the day are when the three of you woke up a little earlier than normal. it had been cloudy the past 3 days so you guys would spend the morning outside. this morning was no different.

katsuki had brought out a cup of tea and a bottle for hayami, quickly going inside to grab what remained. he returned with two plates of food, the smell absolutely divine. he set them on the table infront of you, motioning to give him the baby. with a small rag settled against his shoulder, he sat down carefully with the little one in his hands.

"eat before it gets cold, baby." he mumbled, giving you a look before his attention shifted. he looked down at the small baby nestled in the crook of his arm, nothing but love in his eyes.

he grabbed the bottle, giving it a quick shake before angling it into her mouth. once she took to it, he nodded and hummed.

"look, great eater like her mama." he said proudly, nodding at your already half eaten plate. he chuckled as you swatted a hand at him, knowing he was right.

"she gets it from you too. you cook great and eat just as good." you hummed, trying to defend yourself playfully. he simply rolled his eyes at you and focused back on the baby.

once the little one had finished, he held her again his chest, patting her back gently. as he did this, he leaned forward slightly, looking between you and his food. you got the idea as you started to feed him, quiet thanks coming through each bite.

eventually everybody had eaten, katsuki holding your hand as he leaned back. he held hayami against his chest, his right hand settled on her back. she slept peacefully as you two talked quietly. the sight before you was one the would be everlasting.

[morganbritton132]

Fic where Steve and Robin show up at Eddie’s door smelling like vomit and Starcourt fire like, “You know about drugs, right?” and then push their way into his house.

Except Eddie’s not there. He’s at the Fourth of July fair and then staying at the night at Jeff’s, so it’s just Wayne and two drugged up, beaten up kids.

He can’t even send these two away because they’re looking at him like “you look different” and “I always knew you wore a wig.”

“What are you two on?”

They look at each other and then Robin reaches across the ocean (like six inches), puts hand on top of Wayne’s and says, “So much.”

He tries corralling them into the truck to take to the hospital but apparently the hospital is a wreck. So the next day, Eddie comes home to find a literal dream come true in his bed. And also Robin.

He just walks back out of the room like, “What the hell?”

“Your friends are here.”

“What the hell?!?”

[shushmal]

Eddie pauses, his fingers stilling against his guitar strings. Steve makes a questioning noise, but doesn't move from where he's sitting on the ground, back against the log and his head still resting against Eddie's knee. And for a long moment, Eddie does nothing, so caught up in it all this—this life they've managed to scrap together.

They're thirty-eight, and they own a house, one with a big back yard perfect for a fire pit, a fence and a dog. Last spring a storm had blown down their oak tree, and Steve had rolled the trunk of it over to make seating, the rest firewood. On clear nights, they light a fire and sit next to the flames, and Eddie will play his guitar. And they're far enough out of town that the stars stretch endless, beautiful in the night sky above them.

That's the kind of night they're having now. And it's not what Eddie used to dream of—bars and stages and stadiums of fans. It's not his uncle's trailer and dealing drugs that Eddie thought he'd have to resign himself to. It's not even orange jumpsuits and prison bars, like he was scared of.

Eddie sets his guitar down, resting it against his seat. Steve finally looks up, brown eyes a little sleepy, and a lot content.

It's the kind of night that Eddie never even thought to want.

"Dance with me?" Eddie asks. He watches a slow smile stretch Steve's face. He's gorgeous, painted in campfire light.

"Getting sappy in your old age, Munson?" Steve says, even as he takes Eddie's hand and lets him haul him to his feet.

They fall into each other easily, because they do it every day—arms around waists, shoulders. Cold noses against an ear. Lips kissing lips. They know exactly how to fit themselves together, where their pieces meet and the edges line up perfectly. They sway there in the darkness behind their home, fire-warmed and holding each other. There is nothing but the crackle of the burning logs, the wind in the trees, the crickets and the night birds calling.

"Perfect," Eddie murmurs.

"Hm?" Steve hums, his fingers playing with the ends of Eddie's hair. He presses a kiss to Eddie's neck as they turn a little circle, dancing. "What is?"

"You," Eddie says. "This. Everything. I love this."

He can feel Steve's smile against his skin, knows with out seeing all happy shine of Steve's eyes, his scrunch of his nose, the dimples and the shape of his teeth. He's perfect, and he'll always be perfect to Eddie.

"You, too," Steve whispers. "I love this, too."

[yemmuis]

★ choso doesn’t have any self control during sex. he doesn’t know—or doesn’t care—about his limits; he hasn’t even been fucking you for that long, but his control is already slipping. he doesn’t stop when he’s overstimulated, and god forbid he ever take a break before you’ve finished twice. he doesn’t even realize its insane for a man to have such a high sex drive. doesn’t care that he’s “not supposed to finish before his partner”, because why would he wait to finish when he can keep going until he can’t anymore?

“hic—f-fuck,” chosos panting into your ear, his dick twitching as he comes down from his second orgasm of the night. he barely takes the time to pull out, wrap a trembling hand around himself and give a few laborious strokes before he’s thrusting shakily back into you.

he doesn’t know its fucking crazy that he can cum three times and still be hard enough to keep going. or that how fast he can make you cum with just his fingers (five minutes on a bad day) is the most stellar performance you’ve ever had from a man. and maybe your past lovers just weren’t putting in the effort, but choso certainly does.

“can i please keep going?” he whines, his head dropping down to the back of your shoulder as he keeps you bent over the side of your mattress. he doesn’t know how he’s still standing, but he’s leaning onto your back and his legs are trembling. you nod almost absently, face hidden in the blankets and pillows of your bed while choso is barely holding on behind you; his hips twitch, and he finally manages to catch his breath long enough to brace himself on the mattress by your shoulder. “fuck, my legs hurt.” he mutters to himself, giving an experimental thrust before he’s back to his usual pace and bottoming out with every snap of his hips into your ass. “you feel so good. can’t believe i had to wait a week to do this again.” choso hiccups, and he doesn’t even realize he’s crying in the hot, sticky pleasure filling his brain like honey until he feels his tears dripping down onto your shoulder. “jeez, sorry,” he gasps out, pretty moans slipping from his lips every time his hips meet yours. its an empty apology; he can’t bring himself to care about crying when you feel so good and he can hear you moaning underneath him. he can feel yet another orgasm building, heat pooling in his belly and crackling up his spine as he fucks into you.

“oh—my.” his speech is slurred, stuttering, and his dick is twitching with every mean thrust that rearranges your insides. he’s already so close and he’s barely been at it for five minutes—what round is this? neither of you can remember. he doesn’t remember how many times he’s orgasmed anymore, but he’s fairly certain you’ve already finished at least once or twice, right? you’re still shaking with the aftermath of something, whether thats his grueling pace or climax, he doesn’t know.

“baby,” choso pants out, his free hand settling on your waist and squeezing. “you ‘member how many times y’ve cum t’night…?” his words are barely legible, and he can’t really hear if you respond or not…the best course of action is just to keep going until he’s sure you’ve finished, he guesses. theres heat coiling in your belly, making every thrust feel like fireworks behind your eyes as you stutter out a ‘no’. everything is aching and throbbing and he’s fairly certain he can’t feel his fingers anymore, but that doesn’t really matter as long as he can make you cum. he fumbles for a moment with his trembling hands, trying to keep up the pace of his thrusts that are quickly turning shaky and erratic.

“ch-cho,” you choke on his name, fingers clawing at the sheets as he presses lingering kisses over your shoulder blades. any way to distract himself from his orgasm looming too close for his liking. he pauses to readjust his hands, his breathing labored against your back as he gives a particularly good thrust that rummages into your insides. “‘m i supposed to stop?” choso mumbles, kissing the round of your shoulder as one of his trembling hands grabs your hip firmly. you don’t quite process what he said, barely conscious after how many orgasms he’s easily pulled from you, and the umpteenth one burning at the base of your spine. choso sighs as though he’s being told to do a chore, his forehead landing against the nape of your neck as he angles his hips perfectly into yours and his dick twitches. was that him cumming? he doesn’t know—he’s been overstimulated for at least an hour now, but that doesn’t matter. what matters to choso is feeling your pussy fluttering around him, and listening to the choked moans spilling from your lips as he urges yet another climax from you. your vision goes white, and with one last thrust against your g-spot, your orgasm crashes over you in a honeyed wave as choso squeezes your hips and kisses down your back.

he pulls out sluggishly once you finish trembling, trailing kisses down your spine again while his cum is practically oozing out of you. “are you—hey.” choso huffs, his mouth open against your back as he gently smacks your hip. “i gotta stop.” he stumbles over the syllables, closing his eyes and pretty brows furrowing. “sorry…gimme a sec.” he whines. you can feel him reluctantly clamber off of you, hauling your limp body up against his chest as he flops onto his back on your bed. you shift slightly, trying to get comfortable and ignore the deep aching in your thighs and the way your body trembles against his.

choso grumbles softly, making a small sound as he dragged his fingers through your hair and peered lazily down at you. he scrubs at his eyes, still red-rimmed and dilated from tears and sex.

“hey.”

“…what?”

“…i wanna go again.”

tags :: @gojoscinnamonroll @beanietopia @webism @valicalliali

a/n :: hii thank you for reading ! ive had this in my drafts for soo long and i just now finished it 😛 more choso to come i fink