#I nearly forgot his hair

[floofysmallbob]

eeehhhhhh I’m not feeling this redesign but here it is

I mean, I like it better than canon, but it just doesn’t look too great, and the name I was going to use (Braires) is already the name of the guard at Tartarus, so I had to settle on this, and it’s just kinda meh, but honestly, it’s not going to be perfect, and i unfortunately have to accept that. So here’s Polymeliac Hero: Hekatonkheires

camouflage pattern

no weird eyes

more muted colors

knee pads

steel knuckled gloves

pointy ears

mask is separated from the rest of the costume

extra arms cut off at the wrist instead of having a joint where the hand would be

forgot the shading where the clothes are casting a shadow on his skin but it’s ok

COLD WEATHER VERSION:

poncho

slightly darker colors

thicker gloves(not fingerless)

thicker fabric(not visible)

WARM WEATHER VERSION:

lighter colors

lighter fabric(not visible)

thats it

this was honestly fairly rushed, but idk it turned out ok

As always, tips and advice are appreciated!

[my-rights-are-grian-rights]

the parrot prince, yellow diamond!!

gemcyt by @chrisrin, yellow diamond stampy by @ingapotejtoo :D

listen listen please

do you see my vision here guys it took all of my willpower to not give him birds and i had an idea that would be so good but alas I am not up to the task of designing all of stampy’s helpers as gems but it would be sooo goofy if yellow diamond stampy held all his helpers and they sat on him like his minecraft story mode parrots i would die from joy if it was real

also yellow pearl sqaishey. you agree. they are married and yellow and bird already all that needs to happen is a duck to human conversion !!!

ALSO PLEASE PLEASE I KNOW YELLOW DIAMOND HAS DARK SHOES BUT HE HAS HIS BOOTS PLEAS PLEASE THE BOOTS THEY’RE IRON BOOTS IT’S AS CLOSE AS I COULD GET WITHOUT IT LOOKING TOO SILLY

[giddlygoat]

[shaking my can] joey drew studios modern au, anyone?

[faggotwalkwithme]

never drawn fanart so freaking quickly i finished this movie about. 20 minutes ago. ayways very quick chaz doodle idk why but the little face he makes for One second bewitched me

[hoperays-song]

Johnny’s Fight Scene

***Potential TW: mentions of past injuries, abuse (just say the word once), fighting, and questionable fighting tactics.***

For those of you who might not know, I was in martial arts for several years growing up. In fact that’s where I met my girlfriend! I was in the class for numerous hours a week for over five years, so the things I learned there definitely stuck with me. 

And one of those things that I learned immediately jumped out at me as I was rewatching Sing 2 with said girlfriend and their younger brother who was in the class with us. Johnny appears to use a mental method of losing your inhibitions during a fight, something we called flipping the switch, in his fight with Klaus.

Now, this technique is kind of odd to describe. It involves you essentially shutting off all your thoughts and switching into fight or flight mode (we were trained to go immediately into the fight aspect). You stop thinking. Your mind goes blank. All that matters is getting out of this situation and giving your attacker as much hell as they just gave you.

And when I say you stop thinking, I do literally mean that. I once broke a bone during sparring with someone who had “flipped the switch” (that was not the other student’s fault but our teacher’s, I should not have been allowed to fight). And the person who did that? Amazingly sweet guy. Literally like a big brother to almost everyone. Which just shows that this flipping of a switch method is extremely effective since it bases itself off people’s survival instincts. 

Now, why would I and my family think that that is what Johnny did during his Sing 2 fight? Because it’s Johnny. We’ve seen this kid trapped in a flooding building, was in a room with angry gang members who seemed pretty chill with murder, at active bank heists, and run from people who want him dead. And yes, he did break his skateboard out of frustration after weeks of literal abuse, but we also see him immediately regret that action. In no other scenario do we see him act on a fight instinct. Ever. Hell, even that skateboard scene started with him running away from what was happening. Johnny’s first instinct isn’t to fight, it’s to run. 

So why would this suddenly change? Why would the kid who had been solely on the defensive the entirety of the fight before that point just change to extremely offensive in a second? Well, we know that Johnny likely is trained to fight. His father boxes for fun, and every other member of his family has proved themselves to be extremely good at fighting as well (to the point they can easily take out professional bodyguards). And despite it being a very poor excuse for a gang, Johnny was still in a gang. He knows how to protect himself. And judging by his reaction to being told he has a fight scene, not only is he likely good at it, but he enjoys it.

But the point stands that he didn’t fight back until he looked back up towards the others. Which actually just further proves to me that he used the “flip the switch” method. That technique is harder for some people to learn than others, especially if they don’t like hurting people or are worried about hurting people. That anxiety can cause someone to not fight back in dangerous situations as it essentially stops that survival instinct I was talking about earlier. 

To get around this in training, our teacher would either physically place one of the younger kids a few feet behind us or tell us that they were in danger (though that was typically after the physical method had been used several times), trying to get protective instincts to come into play. And speaking as someone who had to be told this a ton as I don’t like hurting people, it works insanely well. Like scarily so. And I imagine it would work for Johnny too. We see just how family oriented this kid is. His dad and uncles are extremely important to him. His theatre family is extremely important to him. He cares a lot about them. He’s willing to do just about anything for them, no hesitation.

And if he was to tell himself during a fight that he had to protect them, that they were in danger, it’s likely that flipping of a switch would be pretty much instinctual (think of all those references to (insert family member)’s love being a powerful force to be reckoned with).

However, it is important to point out that Johnny was still restraining himself during that fight scene. We see Johnny throughout both movies perform acts of pretty extreme strength (ie. lifting giant slabs of concrete with a basic pulley in Sing 1). The fact that the most destruction he causes during that scene is the breaking of his opponents staff shows the restraint that Johnny was using, despite being in a defensive mindset. 

This does speak more on Johnny’s character than anything, as he was able to disarm his opponent in a hyperfocused state, especially since he still has to blink himself out of it at the end and be surprised when the scene was over. He genuinely forgot what was going on and was focused on protecting himself and his loved ones. He forgot he was performing. And yet he still managed to avoid seriously harming his opponent. 

That amount of control is insanely hard to come by. It takes years and years of training (the shortest amount of time I saw was 4 years) to be in a flip the switch mindset and still be able to subconsciously access the situation. Johnny is a skilled fighter for sure, with an insane amount of control in his techniques.

---------------------------------------

TLDR Conclusion: 

Johnny used a trick taught in some martial arts classes called “flipping the switch” which involves tapping into a person's survival instincts and essentially only focusing on getting away from/hurting your attacker back during his Sing 2 performance. This shows how skilled he is as it is extremely hard to do damage control subconsciously (ie. Johnny not actually hurting his opponent and only breaking the staff), and that he was likely trained in self defense for years.

TLDR Evidence:

- The look back at family and friends is often used to get your brain into a protective mindset.

- Flipping the switch involves instantly going onto the offensive, which we see Johnny do after behaving purely defensively in the past.

- Johnny would likely know this trick as we know he at least knows how to fight.

- The fact he seems surprised at the audience at the end of his scene is similar to what it’s like coming out of a “flip the switch’ mindset, you’re shocked by reality or where you are.

- Johnny is very protective of loved ones, as seen with him helping Mrs Crawly and Rosita during the escape, as well as never turning in his family to the police despite not agreeing with the gang.

- Johnny’s typical first reaction in dangerous situations is flight (as seen by him running from the classroom before), so the sudden switch would have to have some motivation behind it.

[neo-shitty]

the dead man didn’t have to look that hot 😫

[whatareyoudoingwithamaserati]

Not goth but I believe in their beliefs

[cucurbitapuella]

This was my strategy in high school for shop class. Sparkly pink mechanical pencil? 100% return rate (it did get borrowed but only bc teenage boys are bad at remembering their own pencils and it was the only one in the shop quite frequently). I painted my assignments Pepto bismol pink and never wrote my name on anything and no one ever even tried to pass it off as theirs.

[screampied]

𝜗𝜚 B- BIRTHING HIPS ?!

☆ sum. no one expects the pretty sweet wife ( you ) to have such good birthing hips! not even him. gojo, toji, sukuna, nanami, choso, geto.

wc. 5.9k

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, established relationships, ex-husband! toji, semi-public (nanami), bręeding, riding him ‘till he breaks, cowgirl + reverse, cęrvix kissing, reader with the STAMINAAA, (1x) usage of "mistress", squīrting, ass worship, spīt, shotgunning (toji), size kinks.

SATORU ★ GOJO.

“h- hah, ooh sweets,” satoru would swallow thickly, every sticky digit on his fingerprints tightly gripping into the bare soft flesh of your fidgeting ass.

you swerved in seductive circles, maintaining direct eye contact while he’s stuffed inch after fat inch inside of you.

as hurried, shallow pants leave his glossed lips, satoru gives your ass a playful little spank, encouraging your tempo to accelerate with quicker hits against his lap.

“when you said you.. had a birthday present for me i-” and his voice sheepishly lowers, feeling an incoming moan travel its way up his parched throat at you suddenly surprising his face with a barrage of open-mouthed kisses. “i didn’t think y’meant your ah- hips..”

“you complaining, ‘toru?” you’d cheekily hum, combing a few fingers through his perfect hair. your ears instinctively perked at the cute, small sound of satoru’s mewl just from you running a few digits down his overly tender scalp.

your cunt was just sooo unfair-

it swallowed each inch, feeling your gripping walls wring him tight like a vice every single time..

you even spot sparkly tears glossing on his glittery lashes from the immense, raw pleasure.

“n- no! no, ‘m never complaining, promise,” he’d speak in a rush, melting right as your lips sneak a wet kiss against his mouth. a string of saliva cowardly runs away from both pairs of shimmery lips before you feel him shiver underneath you.

you were perfect- and satoru was the one who thought he had the most stamina. in reality, though, it was you. the two of you ended up losing track of time—and it’s probably been hours upon hours of you riding your husband into straight blissful oblivion.

you’re so up close that you had a clear view of him, drinking up his pretty, vocal moans as you attack his lips once again with a three-second kiss. “a- ah, i just—” he stammers, pawing sweaty palms at your ass.

you were just so ruthless- your rear, your hips, your fuckin’ knees… you just knew no bounds..

you rolled your waist in a way where it gave him a plethora of shivers. you moan, feeling the prints of his sticky fingertips dig into your skin as his tip thrashes its way around your cunt. “i.. i forgot- forgot- what i was gonna,” he’d whine, whitish brows curling into an arch. “my god-” he hiccups.

just as your hips dip inward, proudly taking in every fat inch inside of you deeply, he knew that this was it.

satoru was seeing white—not only seeing white, but he was shooting it too.

creamy gooey wads that drizzled inside of your cunt, filling you to the very brim with his lustrous knot. his cum pours inside of you oh-so sloppily and you gasp as your jittery legs forcibly cling onto his thighs like paste.

sharp pounds of skin were rough - barbarically slamming against each other at full speed even while he was still cumming.

with the sole help of your hips, you’d turn the strongest into the whiniest..

he’s whining once he continues to spray such thin ribbons inside of you, filling your cunt to capacity with seed as his right thigh grows limp.

satoru’s flushed- and his jaw was cutely dropped with his eyes bulging wide out of their sockets. it was as if your ass moved in slow motion—you were still riding him but the temp was much, much slower..

his long limbs slowly spread themselves apart as you straddled over him, staring intently into his eyes with an impish smile. satoru’s panting just as much as you. you peer at how his snowy-white hair’s all ruffled - nearly matted as he awkwardly runs a hand through.

“aw,” you’d press another kiss against his twitching mouth, feeling his naturally glossed lips tremor beneath yours. it was so, so much- and your cunt stored every velvety drop. satoru felt your ass greedily rounding itself back onto his leaking cock as you planted your palms on his chest.

his heart-

it’s racing, and he could barely even look you in the eye. satoru was embarrassed, but he didn’t want you to stop. not now - not ever.

you knew that for a fact because a small pout started to crease against his thin pink lips once, he felt your hips coming to a devastatingly slow. “why’s the pout, birthday boy? still not satisfied?”

“h.. how can i not be with those unfair hips,” satoru moans, taking pauses for each gulping breath as if was going to be his last.

strong, brawny arms wrap around your waist before he pulls you close, feeling a bubbly white ring coat its way around his thick base. satoru grunts at your hips coming to their final concluding stop, and he smacks a hand against your ass.

he looks down between the white mess that paints between thighs, moaning at the sight of your stuffed cunt before sighing deeply. “mhm- so perfect. h- happy fuckin’ birthday to me.”

as you writhe around his cock that’s still languidly emitting out such thick ropes from the gummed inside, you pepper his face with kisses. satoru moans at your touch as his hands reel your hips back into him.

“y’know, for the strongest, you really gotta work on your stamina,” you tease, watching that same pout gloss against his lips. satoru’s groaned silently as he pumped you full of chalky amounts that forevermore continued to ooze down the sides of your legs. you hovered over him, brushing a soft thumb over his cheek before leaning in to whisper against the shell of his ear. “how ‘bout we do every round for every year you turned, including today?”

“heh- sweets,” satoru tilts his head, doing the quick math in his head for about a millisecond before he pulls you into his beefy chest. a scarred hand guides a warm path down your arched back as he inhales your scent—huskily grunting into your neck before chuckling. “then we’d be goin’ for like.. thirty-four rounds.”

“exactly,” you coo, and satoru ogles as you remove his blindfold that lazily hung just above his eyes. bawling it into your first - you put it into his mouth and he lets off a muffled groan. satoru falls back against the satin-covered pillows of the bed with the flesh of your bare ass still in his hand before he blinks thrice.

oh.. you looked so pretty..

towering over him like this when it’s usually the other way around.

satoru leans into your touch once you tenderly cup his face, winding up your bucking hips by introducing that beloved teeth-shattering thrust that never failed to drive him crazy.

“ngh- lie back,” and satoru starts to moan continuously with his blindfold clogging his throat before you start to ferociously slam your hips onto his lap. “let’s s.. start from the beginning though, round one, birthday boy.”

TOJI ★ FUSHIGURO.

bleary-eyed and hazed, toji groans, staring at how perfectly your ass effortlessly tossed itself back against him..

in the background of the dimly lit room with a few exceptions of lit candles, some old western movie played in the ambience. he couldn’t keep his attention on the vintage film anyway, not when you were riding him so so good.

“fuckin’ shit, babygirl,” he’d lean back, hooking a beefy arm around your waist. as you lean in close, your soft right cheek tickles against his prickly growing stubble. a stubby rolled blunt sticks out between his teeth as grassy eyes his continued to droop from his erotic high.

your hips were insane - and every gruesome swerve of your ass gives him whiplash. “remember when you…hah- used ‘ta ride me like this on our honeymoon? heh, don’t tell me y’er still in love.”

“mmng- shut up, toji,” you’d moan, clawing a hand at his dingy white tank. toji feels your eyes lingering on him and you can visibly see that haughty smirk wickedly trying to carve its way against his crooked lips.

oh, how you loathed him.

you told yourself it was supposed to be the last time, but the last time always turns into one more, then two more, then three..

but that of course never happened.

the abnormally thick tension between you both forever grew. as you leaned against his hairy chest that was protected with the thin fabric of his tank top, you took the blunt from his lips before faintly inhaling the pungent smell.

“just shut up,” you’d whisper against the shell of his ear. toji grunts once the ruddy crown of his cock sloppily rams its way deeper further. your hands meet his chest and toji drops back, staring at you with a raised brow as you pin his beefy arms over his head. your hips continued to be robust, creating such vigorous thrusts that it made him clench his teeth in longing desire. “n’ let me ride you.”

“y…yes, ma’am,” toji breathes, his voice shifting more raspy from each direct hit of your deliciously springy hips. your cunt was just so precise, and his swollen tip repeatedly mashed its way thoroughly into your pulsating g-spot. it uses that pretty spot—imagining it’s a target and he hits it perfectly, bullseye every time.

the lightning-shaped veins ran through his bare arms as you held them over his head, dragging your bouncy ass back ‘n forth until he groans.

it was just something about your body that hypnotized him. your hips practically rolled into toji, moaning against his lips until hot smoke poured between the pried open cracks of his lips.

it lands against your tongue—and it’s flavorless, but you playfully lick the corner of his lip, feeling him shiver underneath you. “goddd- those fuckin’ hips. work ‘em, girl, fuuuck . . me.”

the way your pussy was just so sloppy too. the mere definition of wet. your slick clings against toji’s hefty sack like there was no tomorrow.

you had a watery grip that always made toji loll his eyes in lewd elation. the bed was almost louder than the combined moans of you both, and it even seemed like its constant groans and yelps were trying to compete.

“not so cocky now when you’re close, hm?” you’d airily whisper, feeling toji’s arm trying to flop itself back down. you grab his wrist, hearing the cute stubborn smack of his lips at your abrupt hold. “ahhh- touch, but no looking, baby.”

“bratty girl,” toji cocks his head, the lump in his throat nearly having him gasp for air. your hips were simply not fair - and pretty soon, he was coming close. your cunt’s wetly swallowing the entirety of his stout cock, twirling around his lap before viciously slamming down on his cock repeatedly.

your sweet, harmonic-like moans were pitchy and loud, but between your legs—you were far far louder. you swerved in erratic arcs, and each squelch that left from your pussy sounded wetter every time. you watched how toji’s defined abs bleed through his tank. “fine then. make me fuckin’ cum - c’mooon,” and he sharply brings a hand toward your ass. “make y’er lovin’ doting husband proud, yea?”

“and you call me the brat,” you’d grumble, leaning back in to swap the rest of the puffed smoke that lingered in his mouth. toji snickers, feeling your ass than its way in each ‘n every direction. your rhythm was just… perfect!

you’re moving in circles, you’re moving forward, hell, you even toss your ass backward just to watch his leafy eyes roll to the backs of their sockets. your cunt’s just profusely dripping wet, and he could feel you soaking from the inside at each sloppy bounce of your berserk hips.

toji’s trying to keep up his cocky façade, but with your unpredictable movements—he was screwed. “heh- atta girl, that’s my girl. ‘m all yours ‘n y’know know it,” he grunts, bruising your cervix repeatedly with smooch after smooch with the help of his plump tip. toji’s got your hips firmly by the palms, bouncing you harder on his hardened cock to make you babble out his name like it was its own sort of chant.

‘toji toji toji!’ was all you could whine out with your head empty and dumbed down from putting your hips to work.

“mhm- even if divorced, this pretty pussy always knows who it belongs t— fuck!”

mid-sentence, toji ends up cumming at that beautiful sharp smack of your ass that makes him nearly choke on a hoarse grunt. his grip against the fat of your ass loosens and his cock’s growing weak and soft, trying to retreat itself out of your pussy. it’s thin, slimy ropes that end up tangling with your treacly juices create a lewd cobweb that glues against both fleshy mounds. “mhm, soo fuckin’ good, toji,” you’d moan, slowing the rocking of your unsteady hips as he finally succumbs to his high.

the movie still quietly plays in the background, and you lean in—snatching the blunt out of his lips before kissing him. the taste of earthy, spiced smoke lands on your tongue once he returns the sloppy gesture, groaning into your mouth as he’s dumping load after hot load into you. “mmph-,” toji shivers, feeling your arms run down his beefy biceps, feeling all over his ripped body.

you couldn’t lie- you kind of missed him. kind of..

your hips still buckled and the friction makes him hiss against your teeth. “goddamn, i can’t.. feel my legs, baby girl,” he grumbles, tilting his head back slightly once your hips dip forward. “can’t stop . . cummin’ fuck-”

“seems like we gotta work on that stamina, old man,” you’d sneer, wriggling your ass once the last final spurts of cum fill inside of you. toji’s eyes then suddenly narrow at you, and you grin before he sits up. “what?”

“old man?” he repeats.

“yeah, old m-”

and it’s almost comical how you were literally straddling his lap—and now, you’re laid flat on your back with your knees rudely shoved up to the top of your chest. there’s a carnal look in toji’s eyes, and you gulp once you glance down at his feverishly hot cockhead that’s weeping with pearly droplets of dried cum.

“yeah, okay,” he grouses, earning a sweet moan from you once his tip harshly smacks against your tender opening.

toji spits on his palm before spanking your pussy, feeling you writhe in anticipation before he pulls your legs further back. his body hovers over you before he sticks his slick-covered fingers in his mouth for just a second to get a taste—aligning his fat tip before snickering at how eager you were to open up for him again already.

“let’s see just how quickly this ‘old man’ can break his pretty wife’s pussy then, hmm? just like old times, baby.”

NANAMI ★ KENTO.

if it was anything nanami kento despised more than constantly working day ‘n night at the office on constant repeat, drowning in piles of paperwork and getting his ear talked off by calls was leaving his pretty horny wife unsatisfied.

“sweetheart-” nanami timidly groans, slouching back against his rickety office chair. you were just nasty with your hips, slapping your ass against his cock that’s repeatedly reaching deep deep deep angles with little to zero effort.

it makes nanami pull on his checkered tie that’s a tad bit loose, tapping his heel against the wooden-cold floor. “ ‘m still…on the job,” and his voice pitches huskier from each languid stroke. your gaping cunt was hungrily sucking him in, flawlessly bruising your cervix with a multitude of french kisses. “but actually, this is . . better than staring at a computer screen all day.”

“yeaah?” you whisper, sneaking your spit-glossed lips near his chin. your body was straight-up sensual. nanami couldn’t keep up with the constant bouncy reel of your hips and the way you grind so lovingly against him.

the buckles of nanami’s belt clang as you rut against his lap, rubbing against the slim fabric of his pulled-down slacks.

as the office chair turned and swiveled, so did your hips. every few seconds, nanami would peek through blurred peripherals and hope no one would walk by his secluded cubicle.

“so paranoid, baby. hey, look at me, hey-” and as your hands crawl their way toward nanami’s chiseled cheeks, fawn eyes lock against yours within an instant. he’s sweating bullets, and you moan at the feeling of his cold watch band ghosting down your skin. “mhm, good. eyes up here, all on me. eyes on your poor wife who hasn’t been touched alllll day.”

“hah- more like.. you touch yourself by video calling me while showin’ off the toys i buy you,” nanami sighs, preventing himself from eye-rolling at the cunning grin that’s trying to compress against your lips. he was right though, whenever nanami was at work and you were at home—you’d call him, sometimes video call.

sliding your hands down your body… touching yourself while wearing his work clothes… purposely making a bit of a mess on his side of the bed too.

“can’t help it when my husband looks like you,” you whisper, leaning further forward so that your tummy’s pressed up against his tailored button-up. his cologne was always loud, he was wearing one of your favorites too.

it always smelled like a mixture of dirty cinnamon and rich, seductive chocolate. nanami quietly grunts, low eyes peering at his bright computer screen that had dozens of tabs open.

so overworked..

but he couldn’t lie—your hips always knew how to relieve his stress, make him forget all about his important tasks and documents he had to go over. your cunt’s just so greedy though.

every pump of his cock hastily drives through you at high speed, hips steadily forming such rough collisions with each crashing thrust. with the way you were riding him, he started to have thoughts of getting you pregnant. “f- fuuck.” he’d groan, sexily tilting his head to the left once your lips made their way onto his skin. you’re soft- creating a trail of invisible kisses as you rode him so good that he didn’t even notice his phone was suddenly ringing.

brrrriiiiiiinnng!

it’s the office phone—and it’s the same, high-pitched ringtone like always that was merely akin to nails on a chalkboard. “mmh- important phone call, ‘ken. must be important,” you’d teasingly moan, bringing your rocky hips to a brief pause. nanami groans in annoyance at the interruption, stretching his split knuckles one by one. with a lively hum, you playfully pout. “ ‘s okay, i can always…wait-”

“no- no,” nanami grumbles, soft brown eyes nearly rolling back due to the thick gaping stretch of his cock mending your insides with such ease. he pulls you into him, giving your ass a needy squeeze. lowly whispering into your ear, nanami sighs before answering the phone. “be a . . good girl ‘n keep those hips movin’ sweetheart. i’ll be quick.”

“yes, sir.” you’d play along, feeling his dick twitch between your saturated folds—and oh, you knew that made him hard. secretly, you knew nanami always did have a sir kink.

your ass slammed into nanami’s lap violently, and he’s feeling himself grow weaker and weaker the more your weight presses on top of him. “nanami, speaking,” he’d gruffly answer, trying to conceal his pantingly deep breaths.

you couldn’t really hear much except gibberish, but you started to get louder the more his mushroomy tip vertically drags its way down your sopping cunt. ‘mmph!’ after ‘mmph!’ would come out of you—and you were so vocal that he had to put a palm over your mouth.

nanami deadpans, clearly knowing what you were up to. “uh.. uh huh, i see,” he continues, groaning once his cock slides its way near your clit, tapping near your slick entrance before sloppily ‘popping!’ itself back out.

you bring a hand toward his veiny cock, slipping it back in before you then realize—you’re drooling all over his palm. “nasty.. girl,” he whispers under his breath, forgetting that he had someone on the other line.

the colleague on the other line said something along the lines of ‘what the…’ and nanami quickly backtracked. “ahem- i mean, yes. that sounds good. i should be free… monday.”

with the conversation coming to a close after a few overly prolonged seconds, nanami ends up cumming mid-conversation. the phone ends up dropping against his desk, and nanami groans, wrapping his arms around you while spewing out hot masses of cum.

“fuck- fuck sweetheart, oh, m- my,” he’d stammer, blond brows twisting together at the feelings of elation. it’s fiery hot - seeping deeply into your core so much that it even dribbles down your thigh. your cunt’s all puffy — prettily glistening with remnants of bubbly cum tearing from your folds before you kiss him. nanami moans against your wet, quivering lips as clashing teeth battle with each other.

as your grinding hips earn out a soft moan from him, he swallows your whines, tucking you underneath a sleeved arm before spanking your ass. “god, m- might have to propose to you again. ‘m still cummin’.”

and as you’re still straddling him with both sweaty bodies smushed against each other, your ear twitches at the quiet mumbling sounds of the phone that were never hung up.

“mr. nanami, what… on earth… did i just listen to.”

SUKUNA ★ RYŌMEN.

sukuna gravelly groans, huffing out low ‘fuck’ ‘s and ‘ugh’ ‘s after each spongy bounce of your ass.

the wholly cruel stretch of his cock buries itself deep within you making him click his tongue. sukuna was always a perfect fit — sometimes it took a bit of stretching, but he always knew he was around and inside. his cock knew each and every route, studying every slippery orifice and corner of your gummy, squeezing walls.

sinister, red eyes trail down your bouncing frame before he snickers at the cute taunting thrusts of your hips. “some . . nerve, woman,” he huffs, his lungs failing to keep up with your barbaric stamina. a sleazy grin tries to tug against both corners of his lips as he firmly grips your ass, spanking you again to encourage you to go faster. “ngh, ridin’ me while wearin’ my kimono? must hah- have some kinda death wish.”

the fabric wears your entire body loosely, and sukuna can’t help but gawk as you jerk your hips at such a sloppy tempo.

your pussy’s overwhelmed with all the fat inches of sukuna’s cock that mercilessly bullies its way into you. like always - he knew the exact layout of your pussy, and you moan once he presses a hand on your tummy.

“actuallyyy, they look better on me,” you quietly mumble, licking a stripe up his neck. sukuna inhales a sharp breath, scarlet eyes knocking further to the very back of his tilted skull. he was always a fool for your touch. “don’t you agree?”

“such a smart mouth,” sukuna grabs your entire chin, steadying your hips with another. out of the many enemies he’s faced—your hips were the far brutalist he’s ever been up against.

you didn’t know when to quit.

you moan at the soft pricks of his honed claws nipping at your skin, hearing the loud, pitchy sounds of both sharp rutting hips clashing in sync.

sukuna can’t help but stare—stare at you, at your body, and especially at the way you continuously threw your ass in circles, circles galore.

“think my wife’s gettin’ a ‘lil too spoiled,” he growly murmurs, tracing the claw of his thumb over your lip. your cunt’s never felt so full - his tip was just as mean as he was. it drags its way through a lewd pattern, caressing through every part of your gummy walls before seeing your eyes bulge to the size of saucers. “aw, look at that face. ‘s too big for you again, like always, hm?”

“s- shut up, ‘kuna.” you moan, pushing him back against the wobbly throne that sounded like it was about to snap into two within seconds. with a stubborn ‘hmmph!’ he lands on his back, eyeing you with a quirked pink brow.

with your knees bent to a certain degree, you started to guide your hipsby rocking it back against his lap. you knew how to swerve and grind. making the curse groan continuously from each slap of your hips, he spanks your ass while scoffing angrily under his breath.

sukuna didn’t have a weakness - besides you.

you had a type of arch that was killer.

all sukuna did was lie back while he watched you work. your ass bounced and bounced as skin against skin relentlessly ricochets onto each other. he didn’t even realize how his jaw was tightening. your grip was enticing—your cunt was slick as ever, drowning the entire shaft of his thick cock with your dripping sap. “g- goddamn, woman,” sukuna groans, his voice softening a bit.

who knew something as such as hips was enough to put the sukuna ryomen in check?

the penetration ended up turning sloppy within each ‘n every round that progressed, and sukuna’s tip was practically making love with your sensitive g-spot.

the stimulation had you moaning into his neck before you gasped, feeling him grab your hips. sukuna glances at you, feeling your sturdy hips nearly slowing down before he tauntingly tsks his tongue at you. “hah- don’t slow down now. you wanted ‘ta fuck me, so fuck me with those pathetic- hah, hips, girl.”

he’s just so big - you couldn’t help but whine out repeated inaudible whimpers. his custom made kimono loosely flows over your body as you continue to move with the constant creaks of his throne groaning from each bounce of weight. “f- fuck, ‘kuna,” a gargled moan bubbles out of your throat as you press a sloppy kiss against his lips.

sukuna’s jaw easily goes slack, and the rough slams of your ass left him spacing out in no time. your cunt’s so powerful that he gets transformed into another dimension for a split second. milliseconds pass and the demon sees nothing but pure white, and that’s when he cums.

sukuna lets out a gruff battle-crying groan once he releases—pouring such a gluey batch of cum into your cunt. it’s hot - messily oozing its way into you, a few spurts dribbling down his fat base that’s a blushing pink. a gravelly grunt leaves from sukuna as he grips your ass, making your hips circle their way slower against his pelvis.

“ugh- the audacity of this w- worthless pussy,” he stutters, shakily chewing on every word from the elated pleasure that comes from his finish. sukuna’s crimson eyes roll, and he bares his fangs deep into your neck as his creamy knot deepens inside of you. “fuck.”

“oh, don’t tell me you’re gettin’ tired already, m’lord,” you’d tease, saying that title, knowing how he’d always get hard whenever you addressed him in formal manners. sukuna’s faintly trembling underneath you, and he hisses at the sticky sight of his own cum that starts to paste against the undersides of your nearly numb thighs. eagerly, you buck your hips into him again, watching his eyes carnally widen. “one more round, ‘kuna—yeah?”

with a quirked pink brow and lowly hooded eyes, he’s panting heavily. sukuna’s cock twitched inside of you, practically creating a bulge just from how ridiculously thick he was before he sighs.

“y- yeah, one more.”

“one more what?”

sukuna shoots you a glare but it soon falters once your ruthless rocking starts up again.

you’re rough, burying your knees into his thighs as your ass smacks against his cock - making him groan out a needy whine.

“fuck- one more round.. mistress.”

CHOSO ★ KAMO.

every time you rode choso, he can’t help but fall in love with you - again.

it was just something about your hips. something about the way you moved, the way you stared deeply into his eyes, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. your voice alone was enough to make him finish, pumping you full of viscid wads that swam their way right into your warm, welcoming womb.

“s- so fuckin’ hot,” he’d whine out, studying each hop of your hips with bleary half-open eyes. if you squinted just enough, you’d spot how his pupils were gradually turning heart-shaped. you sensuously rolled your hips in a way where choso was at a loss for words.

“mmh- baby,” he’d groan, feeling your thighs lift before slamming straight back down. your cunt sloppily clamped down on his cock tightly, wringing choso dry and milking him for all that he was worth. “don’t- don’t stop, please- don’t stop, fuuuuck.”

flimsily, you threw your arms around over his shoulders that were so tense-slacked.

as you’re right next to his face, choso’s frantically panting—puffs of air leaving from his parted lips with greasy black strands sticking to his forehead. choso’s just glossed with sweat, and his hands start to slowly creep their way to the bottoms of your plush thighs. “touch me more, ‘cho,” you’d moan, grinding yourself against him in circular motions.

choso’s cock was hard - so so hard. you felt it, and it’s as if time stood still when it happened.

the blushing crown of his shaft securely squeezes its way through your pinching walls, introducing itself to your convulsing g-spot.

“chosooo, chos—oh!” you’d shriek, your thighs immediately collapsing against his. the stimulation of his crowned head smearing around the spongy texture makes you short-circuit for a moment.

you probably looked cartoonish. nothing but white painted the insides of your rolled eyes with your jaw goofily dangling open, furrowing brows curling up in such bawdy pleasure..

“a.. are you okay? does it hurt?” choso stammers, awkwardly cupping your face with big, roughly textured palms. your cheek falls into his hand as you smile, bringing a kiss toward the tip of his nose while leaning into his gentle touch.

“baby, ‘m fine,” you reassure him, watching choso’s shoulders sag. choso’s hands snag at your ass as his head falls back. the adam’s apple that bobs in his throat never stops bobbing, and he throatily groans once he starts to feel your wobbly hips pick up again.

“o..ooh! keep hittin’ there- yeah, right there,” and choso sucks his teeth as he not only hears but feels your pussy slickly slide on his cock. ravened eyes of his eventually flicker down at your neglected, bouncing chest and choso cutely sighs.

humming, you hold his chin while rubbing the pad of your thumb over his sheeny pouted lips. “go ahead, choso. feel ‘em.”

he’s touched you probably dozens of times. the two of you were married, and yet he was always hesitant, waiting for your approval. right when you gave it though, choso couldn’t contain himself anymore.

you gasped once choso quickly sank his face in between your chest, cupping his mouth around one of your bare nipples. “mmp-” he’d let off a muffled moan against your skin, the muscles in his face relaxing as he felt you patting his head.

you were still riding him, strenuously smacking your hips on top of him - each squelch from your cunt never failing to pitch higher and higher.

the arch of your back stretches further, and you feel his hand swat against your ass. choso’s tongue sloppily swirls around your tender nub before it turns into wet suckles. “f- fuck, jus’ like that, choso,” you’d whine, hearing each loud ‘pop!’ sound away from his lips once your tit occasionally slides out his mouth.

choso’s weakly rutting into you too, but one of his arms wraps around your hips - pulling you closer. you’re rocking back and forth, hearing him moan against your skin before he starts nipping. “ ‘m gonna c.. cum,” his eyes widen, digging slender fingertips into the right cheek of your ass.

and his voice shook at each pounce of your hips. you’re riding him until he breaks - literally.

the split of choso’s tip rummages its way through your tight, clenching walls, steadily jackhammering its head toward the hood of your clit. your thighs nearly snap together shut at the long-awaited pressure, and you wrap your arms around his slim torso.

“fuck, oh f- fuck ‘m gonna cum too, choso,” you’d whimper in his ear, feeling his body underneath you cutely shudder. your hips were just delicious.

he’s nearly forgetting to breathe with how damn good you rode him - with how you rotated your ass, rocking your waist, barreling all of his inches. choso’s heart thumped straight out of his chest, and one glance of you was all it took for him to realize he was falling in love with you again.

“ugh- fuck me, baby—use me, oh f- fuck,” he’d start rambling, the sweaty prints of his thumbs swirling circles around the occasional dents in your back. he found it so attractive how each time you moved or rocked against him, your muscles would cutely tense at the excessively wide stretch of his cock. “need you. i…hah- need…you,” he’d murmur between pauses of sharp breaths, and choso’s entire body slumps back within seconds.

one final thrust and he’s cumming - hard.

you end up finishing too — gushing straight out, poor trembly thighs collapsing right over his meaty thighs that were the mere definition of ‘numb’.

you’re whimpering as he’s filling you up with satiny ropes that tangle with your syrupy slick that soaks the head of his cock. “fuck, ‘cho, that’s it. r- relax,” you’d swerve your hips around, watching choso’s abs clench underneath you. you’re riding him so good that he thought he was gonna get pregnant.

you’re drenched - bringing two fingers toward your cunt, coolly spreading your pretty entrance apart. your clit’s pulsing, and you’re moaning once you see small masses of cum spilling down your clit. “you’re always so messy.”

“hah- for… you,” choso sighs, a sleazy grin forming across his lips. his hand still remains glued to your ass and he grunts, sneaking a hand between the crack of your thighs. “mmh- i think.. i want you to do that again, baby.”

“what?” you bring a chaste kiss toward his lips, swallowing the incoming whine that leaves from choso’s lips. he’s never tasted sweeter - and you could feel his body quiver at the feeling of your hands sliding down his chest.

choso moans against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours. “s.. squirt,” he purrs hoarsely, and you gasp once he lifts you, making you lie back this time. darkened eyes fall toward between your sprawled-out legs and he nearly drools — taking in the pure sight of his cum wetly streaming down your pearled nub. choso whines against your cunt, taking one long lap of his tongue, relishing at the messy taste of both mixtures of arousal - yours and his.

with a pout, choso starts to clean you up, smearing the bridge of his nose against your twitching cunt before meeting your gaze. “squirt again, pretty girl. i.. i wanna taste it this time,” and he gives your swollen heat a wet kiss.

“pretty please?”

SUGURU ★ GETO.

geto could practically feel his mouth watering once he saw that sweet, perfect arch of yours.

he’s used to seeing you in front, up close ‘n personal but no.. you wanted to try riding him in reverse. not only that, but you decided to ride him in reverse while he was still very much sensitive.

“ooh, p- princess,” he’d grunt hoarsely, tasting the treacly sweet stream of saliva pooling into his mouth. the buds that live on his tongue ached at the hot, comforting squeeze of your cunt. geto’s still getting over his recent orgasm—globs of cum still sticking against his cock and glossing wetly between your quivering legs. “ugh- you’re killin’ me here with that pretty fuckin’ arch of yours, y’know that?”

“mhm, good,” you’d reply in a hurried tone, feeling his lust-like gaze lock against your ass. you weren’t even going fast and yet, your hips already had him on a leash.

geto couldn’t stop staring - nor could he keep his strong, callused hands to himself.

you moaned, planting your hands against the crumpled-up sheets before gasping. geto makes you arch more, getting a pretty fogged-eyed view of the way your backside curves over his lap right before his eyes. “hah- suguru, don’t stop touchin’ me.”

“didn’t . . plan on it, pretty,” he rasps, trailing his eyes down at the rocking curvature of your waist. you’re fuckin’ moving, and with your hands gripping onto his knees—you threw your ass back against him time and time again. geto groans, feeling his reddened tip that was still leaking swab its way around your clit like a q-tip. your ass had a grip that made him nearly choke on the treacly saliva that sticks near the back of his tongue. “god- so perfect, look at you, girl. so hah- damn gorgeous when you’re on top, fuck.”

“mhm,” you’d bite back a moan, the sensual rolling of your hips turning more intimate by the second. his dick coarsely stretches through your slavering insides, sloppily pumping you full with each ‘pop!’ squelching out from between your thighs. geto keeps his gaze locked on your ass the entire time, and that’s when you start to bend your knees.

you arch lower, zealously wriggling your ass before bouncing on his cock and that’s when you hear him starting to whine. “fuck- so big,” you’d gasp, taking control of the tempo by steadily veering your hips like a boat. “hold my hips, sugu. hold ‘em while i fuck you.”

geto lets off a guttural groan, swatting a clammy palm against your backside before both hands attach near your rotating waist that’s raining with sweat from all angles. you’re merely glowing and it’s just so pretty.

“tch- you’re gettin’ cocky, princess,” he’d mumble, his voice turning shakier as your ass frantically ruts into him at full force. his sweltering hot tip’s on the verge of splitting you open and you moan each time you feel its overly vast curve delve straight inside your pussy, nastily dragging its way down your sopping valley. tossing his head back, geto’s abs instinctively clench through his shirt before he whines again. “ ‘m only lettin’ you take charge ‘cause i—”

and geto pauses abruptly, violently clenching his teeth at the slick pasty feeling of your pussy trapping the entirety of his thick length. breath snatches out of his chest before he groans loudly, spanking your ass with the corners of his lips twitching into a pout.

“o- oh fuck, ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum again,” and the words whine out from his lips oh-so prettily, grunting each time you slam your ass back down against his cock. his bulbous tip deepens its angle inside of you, rolling his eyes from the sudden pressure arising.

he’s never felt hotter — and geto nearly blacks out completely once you start to purposely slow down, sneaking a hand back to smack your ass right in front of his face while craning your neck. “yeah, give it t’me then, baby. don’t miss a fuckin’ drop.”

“such a s.. slut,” geto groans, nearly getting hypnotized by how good you’re dragging your hips in figure eights. they gradually shift into circles—and he’s buried deep deep deep, pounding into your cunt rawly until he ends up shooting blanks again. you end up finishing too, and it feels like a deep sigh you are finally letting go. shockwaves and electricity pierce through every nerve and vein through your body, and your mouth drops open—feeling your teeth chatter once your hips back their way up against him in reverse.

geto’s body underneath you immediately shudders and oh- he’s whimpering, feeling the weight of your rickety hips steady.

as his mouth grows dryly arid, geto lets off a weary ‘phew’ as the core muscles in his abs tighten.

viciously thin ropes of cum shoot into you. globs of it seep deep inside of you, watching as your cunt sloppily spits remnants of it on its tip—coating the shriveled-up base of his cock that’s been perfectly milked. “b.. baby,” he hoarsely groans, hands still stuck to each side of your hips.

it was such a pretty sight — your cunt remained stuffed full with buttery ribbons of cum that ran down your thighs before he spanks your ass.

“jus’ . . gimme a minute. think your pussy really hah- broke me,” and geto gives the right of your ass cheek its final needy squeeze before sighing in defeat. “f- fuuuuck, girl.”

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe and sensitive!reader spending the holidays together

c/w: fluff, her ovulating and being horny, smut: p-in-v, slight breeding kink, use of dad, 18+ mdni! 

wc: 1.5k

ugh i’ve missed this man

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Why is he doin’ that shit?”  

“Rafe, it’s a rom-com,” she reasons, practically glued to him on their couch with the way she keeps shifting closer and closer, almost unconsciously at this point.   

“Yeah, a shitty one. Why was it necessary to do a whole fuckin’ speech at the mall? He couldn’t jus’ I dunno, tell her how he felt?” he scoffs, clearly fed up with the entire film already. 

She can’t stop the bubbly laughter from escaping her when she looks over to his scowling face. “I mean, this is actually getting kinda weird…why’s everyone watching them?” 

“Yeah, ‘n why are they still on that fuckin’ stage?” he grumbles while the couple is now fully making out on the TV screen. 

“Please don’t ever do anything like that to me.”

“Yeah, was actually gonna ask, you, uh, you wanna go shoppin’ tomorrow?” 

“No!” she giggles before taking a sip of the hot chocolate she’d made for herself (because Rafe deliberately told her he didn’t want any) but the minute she’d sat down with the mug in hand, he’d wanted to try it, which ended up with him drinking nearly half of it.  

“Oh shit, forgot to give you this earlier, look what I got you today,” he suddenly murmurs. 

“Hm?” her eyes flit over to his face; momentarily distracted by his pretty features as he searches for something from the back pocket of his pants. Then, he’s pulling a golden necklace from a velvety box.    

“That looks really expensive,” she nervously mumbles, pausing the TV in order to concentrate on the heart-shaped locket he’s holding out to her.   

“You deserve the fuckin’ world, it was nothin’ alright? Can think of it as an early Christmas present if it makes you feel better,” he rolls his eyes, almost exasperated that she still can’t seem to comprehend the fact that he enjoys spending his money on her.    

“It’s so beautiful,” she croons as she inspects the piece of jewelry with careful fingertips, heart swelling in her chest at the sentiment— recalling how she’d mentioned something about thinking pendants like these were adorable maybe once.    

“Yeah? You like it?”    

“I love it. Wait, you had your initials carved into it too? That’s so cute, Ray, what the hell?” she feels her eyes grow watery because her boyfriend really is her favorite person in the whole wide world for a reason.    

“Yeah, know you’re into sappy shit like that, ‘n you can put m’picture inside too ‘n you’ll always have me with you or whatever the fuck.”    

“Shut up, you’re so sweet! I love you,” she exclaims before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck— climbing into his lap in the process while he murmurs into her hair how he apparently ‘loves her more’, which she thinks is not possible.    

“Let me put it on you?” he says before he’s swiping away some strands in order to clasp the locket around her neck. “Look so pretty with m’name on you.”

“Wait, you should have my name on you too,” she jokingly utters out next.  

“Been thinkin’ about gettin’ it tattooed actually,” he admits, completely serious, which makes her face scrunch up.  

“You’re not getting my name tattooed on you— you’re crazy,” she softly hits his chest. However, he can barely even feel it because she really doesn’t have a single violent bone in her body.   

“Yeah, crazy ‘bout you,” he grins, eliciting an airy giggle from her.    

Knowing she’s about to complain about him being weird again, he shuts her up with a press of his mouth against hers— a surprised noise leaving her when she’s momentarily taken aback by the sudden cushion of his lips. 

And it’s sloppy, the way they slot together like puzzle pieces when she opens up for him, but both of them prefer it that way. 

His kiss was meant to be something sweet but soon enough she’s rutting against him— whimpering into his mouth as if it’s been years since the last time they did this. And all too soon for her liking, he’s pulling away.

“Somethin’ you want?”  

“…no,” she lies through her teeth.    

“No? Jus’ uh, humpin’ me like a bitch in heat for no reason then, hm?” he raises his brows; eyes fixed on her frustrated features.    

“Ray...” she huffs out; a frown already forming on her spit-slicked lips.    

“Yeah?” he asks, giving her a soft peck as encouragement.    

“Want you…” she pants against his mouth.    

“But m’right here?” the furrow of his brows displays faux confusion.  

“You know what I mean,” she whines; shifting around in his lap some more.    

“M’afraid I don’t. If there’s somethin’ you want, you gonna have to tell me,” the edge of his mouth curls annoyingly when he decides to toy with her, always finding so much entertainment from her struggle.     

However, she merely grants him another whine.   

“Wha’s up with you today, hm? So fuckin’ needy, actin’ like you haven’t been fucked in a month when you were literally cryin’ on m’cock last night?” he murmurs while thumbing at her pouty bottom lip.   

“I don’t know…jus’ need you so bad,” her eyes begin to gloss over when he’s still not giving her what she so desperately craves.    

“Baby, there’s no need to cry, yeah?” he sticks his thumb past her lips; an attempt to placate her, even if he thinks she never looks prettier than with her eyes all wet and forlorn.   

“You’re ovulatin’ right now, aren’t ya?” his brain finally fits together the very telltale signs as he plucks his phone from the coffee table— opening the app that tracks her period cycle.  

“Think so, yeah,” she mumbles, mindlessly sucking on the digit resting on her tongue as she sniffles.  

It’s no surprise to either of them when his assumption proves to be right.    

“Think you need me to fuck a baby in you, s’that it? Wanna make me a real daddy?” he croons.    

“Mhm…want you,” her words are muffled around his thumb.    

“I know, sweetheart. Don’t want anyone but you carryin’ m’kids— think about knockin’ you up so fuckin’ often, you know?”    

“You do?”    

“Yeah, know you’d be such a good mom.”    

“You think? I think you’d be the best dad, sometimes wish you were my dad,” she rambles mindlessly, the conversation suddenly teetering on the edge of something else entirely.    

“Shit, such an angel face ‘n then there’s this rotten mind inside, huh?” he tuts in disapproval, appearing disgusted as if he doesn’t get even harder in response to her words— something raw, primitive stirring in the pit of his stomach whenever she says things like that.    

“M’sorry dad,” she offers him an impish smile.  

“Someone’s in a mood today?” he chuckles, narrowing his eyes in a playful manner.    

“Can you take off your pants?” she complains while attempting to loosen his belt but with her mind buzzing like a honeybee it’s proving to be a rather demanding.   

“Can’t do anythin’ without dad’s help, can you? Go on, let’s see if you can take me out by yourself, yeah?” he rasps out, tone challenging.    

“No, need your help, daddy, I can’t—”  

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ pathetic,” he murmurs, somehow managing to turn something so patronizing into something affectionate as he swats away her helpless hands and yanks the belt open himself.    

“See? Not that fuckin’ hard, was it?” he mutters out as his thumb slips out of her mouth before he’s pulling himself out. And even if he’s not even fully hard yet, and she’s seen it more times than she can count, she’s still mesmerized by the sight— eyes rounding out while she simply stares as if she’s under some spell.    

“You’re so pretty,” she blinks at him, eyes moony.    

“Still not tired of seein’ it, huh?”   

She shakes her head.   

And since she’s not wearing any pants (as usual), he only has to tug the fabric of her underwear to the side in order to reveal her messy cunt.    

“Ray…” she whines when he merely smears the drippy head over her folds; thudding it against her clit to get her to whimper some more.  

“Hm? Want it inside? Wha’s the magic word?” he looks at her with something amused twinkling in his eyes.   

“Please. Dad, it hurts,” she sniffles, desperately trying to rub against him in an attempt to alleviate the ache.    

“Hurts? Think you bein’ a little dramatic, no?” he lets out a breathy chuckle, making her huff out in frustration.   

“M’not, Ray, please, need you so bad,” wet droplets stain her cheeks while she tries to uselessly blink them away.    

“Shh, s’okay. Dad’s bein’ mean again, isn’t he? M’sorry, baby, I’ll give you what you want, yeah?” his voice is a deep rumble before he’s finally tucking the tip into her weepy cunt, causing both of them to moan in tandem when she practically sucks him in— his fingerprints denting the skin of her thighs when he aids her movements to his liking.   

“Yeah? That what you wanted? Always such a tight fuckin’ fit, huh?” he grunts against her mouth; hips meeting hers halfway as he stuffs himself deeper.  

“Mm, I love you,” she whimpers— practically feeling him in her guts as his cock pokes at the spongy spot inside her while his big hands help situate her on top of him, and she thinks this might just be heaven on earth.

[sttoru]

𖠵 I’M YOURS.

𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you visit your husband during his work hours to hand him his lunch which he forgot at home. his subordinates are surprised to see their superior act so gentle with you—a total opposite to how he usually is when finding and punishing outlaws.

tags. wild west sheriff!kento nanami x wife!female reader. fluff, smut. set in the wild west (1860’s - 1890’s). blǒwjob. size difference (reader short), p in v -> unprotected, breeding themes, creampié, semi-public, hair pulling. traditional views of marriage. nicknames: darling, sugar, sweetheart. wc: 6.4k

the southern parts of the county are sweltering under an unrelenting sun, and most of the townsfolk have retreated indoors to escape the heat. kento nanami - the town’s sheriff - is taking a quick break, having just returned from breaking up a violent brawl at the local saloon. damn drunkards, he thinks as he shakes his head. they have been causing havoc all afternoon, threatening to turn the place into a shooting gallery. he had to put them in their place.

kento strolls to a nearby window, silently critiquing the poor job done on the grimy glass. his eyes scan the wagons that roll in and out of town to keep watch for anything out of the ordinary. but before long, his thoughts wander, and he found himself thinking of you. his dearest. his beloved. his world— his wife.

the blonde man wonders what you’re doing right now. are you preparing supper, or perhaps knitting him another one of those scarves in preperation for the colder weather?

one of his hands slips into the pockets of his slacks, fingers brushing against the handkerchief you gifted him. he smiles as he traces the embroidered flowers. their colors are still vibrant despite the constant wear. it has become his lucky charm over the years.

kento sighs as he catches a glimpse of a couple in the distance. they share a kiss, the woman waving her partner off with a handkerchief of her own as her husband leaves on his horse. the sight has his jaw clenching as guilt creeps in. he had left home in such a hurry this morning, that he hasn't kissed you goodbye properly. he hopes that you didn’t take it personally.

it is a small thing, but he makes a mental note to apologise for that later.

kento turns around from the window he’s been staring out at for the past couple minutes as one of the deputies hustles a trussed up outlaw into the office. the other male slams the wooden door shut behind them which rattles the place. the outlaw is a scruffy looking fellow and his wild eyes dart nervously between kento and the shotgun-toting deputy.

the blond sheriff pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. just when he thought he could have a peaceful break... duty calls.

“got ourselves a lil’ troublemaker here, sheriff,” jake says and gives the outlaw a rough shove forward. the man stumbles, nearly falling to his knees before catching himself.

kento’s jaw clenches as he looks the outlaw up and down, his hazel eyes hardening. he aims to keep the peace in this small town, and that means dealing with the dregs of society from time to time. anything to keep the folk safe. especially if it meant protecting his dear wife.

“ye damn pieces of shit,” the outlaw spits, glaring defiantly at the two authoritive figures standing in front of him, “i ain't done nothin’ wrong, ya hear?”

there it is; the cliché line nearly every sentenced outlaw utters whenever they’re caught. kento runs a hand through his hair and scoffs as a muscle in his jaw ticks. one thing he hates are shameless outlaws who claim to have done no wrong.

this man before him has been on countless bounty posters, plastered all over the county. wanted dead or alive, for assault, murder and robbery. bart cavanaugh, the thug’s name is.

kento barks out a harsh laugh, but his face doesn’t show an ounce of emotion. the deputy shifts on his feet. the young man had seen that face on the sheriff countless times before. it’s intimidating and scary, the tension in the room palpable.

“done nothin’ wrong? boy, y’ve been stealin’ and killin’ yer way through half the damn county. and now y' got the audacity to stand there and lie to my face?”

kento steps forward and looms over the outlaw, his broad shoulders squared. his hand drifts to rest on the butt of his holstered revolver. the metal is cool and reassuring against his palm.

“jake, go fetch the preacher. tell him to start diggin' a new grave,” kento orders without taking his piercing eyes off the outlaw. his free hand shoots forward to grab a good handful of the man’s matted hair, yanking it back roughly. the sheriff’s eyes are cold and calculating, “looks like we got us a hangin’ to do ‘fore sundown.”

the outlaw’s eyes widened in fear and he tries to take a step back, but kento’s strength is not to be matched. “but... but you can’t!” he stammers, “i got my rights, i-i'll have ya know that!”

“rights?” kento huffs and releases the thug with a rough shove, dusting his hand off on his blouse as if he touched something filthy. “the only right ye got is the right to wait here and take what's comin’ for ya.”

it did not take long before the outlaw is sentenced, hauled outside and led toward the gallows. kento stretches his arms above his head, feeling the tension slip from his shoulders. another task crossed off the list. he can only hope that the rest of his break will pass quietly without any more disturbances.

the exhausted sheriff drops into the wooden chair behind his desk and leans back with the nth sigh of the day. his fingers fumble with the drawer, and after a moment of rummaging, he pulls out a cigar. he strikes a match and lights it up before placing the stick between his lips. kento closes his eyes and inhales deeply, letting the burn of the tobacco settle his mind.

minutes slip by in silence—just the quiet flicker of the lamp and the rhythmic sound of his own breathing. then, the front door creaks.

kento’s eyes flicker open. a loud prayer sounds in his head; please lord above don't let it be another caught outlaw. not another deputy or bounty hunter with some new problem to throw his way.

however, when he looks up, all the weight on his shoulders vanishes in an instant. there you are - his wife - standing in the doorway like an angel sent to pull him from the depths of his workday hell. the stress, the frustration, all of it fades away in your presence.

kento squints through the haze of cigar smoke as you walk inside with a beaming smile on your face. fuck, you're beautiful. a dream come true.

he takes a long drag and holds it in his lungs before exhaling slowly. the smoke curls around his tired face. his hazel-colored eyes narrow as they rake over your figure. a little provocative, he thinks, not wearing a shawl on your exposed shoulders. especially around these parts of town—with other men lurking that aren’t your husband.

“well, well, if it ain’t my sweet lil' wife,” the blonde rumbles, setting the cigar down in the ashtray. kento leans back in his chair which causes the wooden furniture to creak under his muscular frame. “what brings you ‘round these parts, darlin'?”

it is unusual for you to visit him during work hours. normally, you’d be at the house, attending to your duties. taking care of your cozy home, or perhaps socialising with the other wives around town at one of your regular gatherings. kento didn’t expect to see you here, yet the sight of you is a welcome surprise. even more so when you look so radiant, as if the sunlight itself has wrapped around you.

“ah, you forgot your lunch dear,” you explain with a warm smile. your voice carries a familiar tone that always seems to soothe your husband. you nod politely to his colleagues who’re staring at you in awe and curiosity. you continue, “i started to worry. i can’t possibly have my husband starvin’ at work, now can i? ain't so proper as y’r wife.”

your words make kento’s heart lighten. the smile that has faded from his face the second he left you this morning, finally finds it way back. his entire demeanour softens and his body relaxes.

the two deputies, who have been going about their duties in the background, can’t help but glance over at the scene unfolding. they exchange a bemused look as they watch kento’s demeanor shift the moment you walked into the office. it’s almost comical how quickly the stern, commanding sheriff transforms into a doting and affectionate husband.

kento stands up, his tall, imposing figure towering you as he approaches. the gun belt slung low on his hips clinks softly with each step along with the spurs on his boots. he reaches out, taking the cloth wrapped box from your dainty hands. his calloused fingers brush against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through him.

“well, much obliged, sugar. yer a real sight for sore eyes,” kento comments, his deep voice lowering to an intimate rumble. he sets the box down on the desk before stepping closer to you. his eyes search for yours while his hands gently rub your sides.

“any time,” you shyly duck your head as you sense the tension between kento and you building up. it’s always like this between you two. the honeymoon phase? for you it’s not a phase, it’s a forever thing. until death do you part.

your hands reach up, slithering from his sides to his chest to straighten his sheriff’s badge. “has work been okay, hun?” you murmur in a honeyed voice, the one that drives kento crazy. neither of you seem to care about his co-workers standing around, lost in your own little bubble.

kento’s hand slides from your side to your throat, fingers skimming over your pulse point, enjoying the rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his touch. “work’s been a pain in the ass, darlin’. same ol’ song and dance,” he replies while his half lidded eyes dart all over your pretty face, “but now that y’re here, it's startin’ to look up.”

your conversation is casual, yet the underlying tension tells you there is more to it. even the deputies become aware of what’s playing in the middle of the office. or more so, what's about to happen if the passion in both kento and his wife’s eyes come to life.

kento can’t help but smirk as you press yourself against him. your soft curves mold to the hard planes of his muscular body, a stark contrast to the gentle hands that hold you close. his eyes darken once he catches you looking up at him through those long lashes of yours. that’s his damn weakness.

“y’know, seein' you here, lookin' like sin in that dress—it’s making me think all sorts of improper thoughts,” he starts in his deep voice. your husband lowers his head to whisper in your ear, “thoughts about bendin’ you over my desk and showin’ ya what happens to naughty little wives who distract their husbands at work.”

a shiver runs down your spine even though this is exactly what you wanted. you came here to deliver kento’s lunch, yes, but you've also missed his attention, affection and most importantly his touch. due to his job, he’s not at home for almost the entire day.

you don’t want to come off as clingy, but when you have a man like kento to call yours, you can’t help but want to be greedy.

the same goes for him as well. kento is ever the devoted lover, head over heels for you, and that includes feeling a great sense of physical attraction to you. he can’t help it—especially when you look so adorable, playing the role of the dutiful wife, visiting him at work to drop off his lunch. it’s a massive turn on.

“l-later. there are others here,” you try to play your erotic interaction off, even as you feel the insistent press of kento's clothed cock against your lower belly. your cheeks heat up as you realise that this bit of proximity had already turned your husband on.

kento licks a stripe up your earlobe, his teeth grazing the flesh before he soothes it with his slick tongue. he knows he shouldn’t be so explicit with you, not here in his office where anyone could walk in. but he simply cannot resist your charms. that pretty body and voice of yours are like a siren’s call to him.

however, he also notices your hesistance because of the company you have. kento, ever the thoughtful man, glances up at the deputies sitting around the office. his gaze hardens and his voice is filled with authority, “don't y’all got better things to do than sittin’ ‘round here?”

it’s a hidden message that all men in the room clearly understood. kento wanted them out and as soon as possible so he can take care of his wife. his duties are put on hold for as long as you need him by your side. he trusts his coworkers to deal with the rest while he’s busy attending to your needs.

the deputies scramble to their feet and grab their stetsons, hurrying out of the office with a chorus of 'yes, sir!' and 'right away, sir!' some smirk knowingly as they make their way out into the muddy streets. they know all too well about kento’s soft spot—the one woman he’d do anything for. even if it means that he ignores his work for a while.

within seconds, the office clears out, leaving kento and you alone. he turns back to you and his eyes instantly roam over your feminine curves. from the swell of your soft breasts to the flare of your hips. oh, his mouth immediately starts to water.

“now, where were we?” the blond man hums. he stalks forward until your back hits the wall with a inaudible thud. you swallow thickly as you look up at kento, who’s staring back at you like you’re a five course meal.

but beneath that passionate gaze is something so intimate. so much more gentle and loving. with every touch, his eyes still search for yours, wordlessly confirming your consent. it’s a habit of his—ever since he took your innocence on your wedding night.

kento’s hands slide down to grab your thighs. he hoists you up and encourages you to wrap your legs around the dip of his waist, holding you between his body and the wall. his eyes flicker downwards to where the skirt of your dress rides up and exposes more of your soft skin to his greedy touch.

“i need you,” your lover breathes against your lips. his mouth is an inch from yours, eager to capture it in a kiss. kento groans the second he feels your clothed cunt press against his throbbing bulge. his fingers dig into the plush flesh of your ass, “shit. i need you now.”

not a second more is wasted as your husband crashes his lips against yours. he presses you back against the wall, moaning into your mouth. this is what he missed the most. your touch, your taste— it makes him feel alive. like all his hard work is worth it.

your fingers curl into his blond locks, tugging at them as your lips move in sync. your tongues roll around each other and your lower bodies move accordingly, grinding for fiction. “are ye sure? right here?” you ask between gasps, voice muffled as his lips interlock with yours repeatedly.

kento pulls away, but not fully. he can’t let you go in any way or form. his head instantly dives into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. he immediately latches onto your throat and kisses his way down to your collarbone.

this is exactly what he needs after a hard day. the familiar perfume mixing with the faint scent of your arousal and something so homey—it’s dizzying.

“never been more sure,” your husband groans once he feels your nails gently drag down from his nape to his back, slipping beneath the collar of his blouse. little minx, he thinks, knowing exactly what makes a man weak.

kento tilts his head back so he can look into your eyes. your gaze catches his and you’re taken aback by how handsome he looks. he always does, of course, but this sight just makes you clench around nothing. it leaves you throbbing in your underwear.

the way his neat hair has now turned messy, locks covering his half-lidded eyes, biceps straining against the material of his blouse, sharp jaw clenching with the effort to hold himself back from completely ravaging you. . .

you’re soaked.

kento grins at the way your kiss-swollen lips fall apart in a small ‘o’ as you admire him. he knows he looks good and it boosts his confidence. “keep lookin’ at me like that,” he encourages as his lower body grinds against yours.

you can feel the thick outline of his dick pressing and rubbing against your clothed cunt and it causes you to jerk in place. your moans get swallowed by your husband’s lips once more, his mouth not giving you a moment to breathe as he kisses you more demandingly this time.

kento carries you to his desk, not once separating your lips from his. he sits down on his chair and settles you down on his thick thighs. your arms immediately wrap around his neck to deepen the kiss.

the steamy make out session continues for a while, both of you breathless. you finally pull back for some air and open your eyes to meet your husband’s. the way he’s looking at you, like you’re his entire world, makes you weak in the knees.

“let me take care of ya first,” you suggest in a hoarse whisper against his lips. you feel kento stiffen beneath you, his cock throbbing impatiently in his slacks at the implication.

“go right on ahead,” he bites his lip and watches your wandering hands drag down from his shoulders to his chest. the muscle in his jaw ticks as he tries his best not to intervene—to grab and bend you over his desk already.

kento’s breath catches in his throat as your delicate hands worked at his belt, the leather creaking softly as you undo the buckle. he watches, transfixed, as you tug his pants down.

suddenly, his large hand reaches out to wrap around your smaller one, squeezing it. “wait,” kento hisses and his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. he’s trying so hard not to lose control.

he takes a deep breath after closing his eyes, hips bucking lightly against your warm palm as it rests against the deliciously big bulge in his undergarments. you gently drop to your knees in front of him while giving him some time to regain his composure.

when kento opens his eyes again, he lets out a low growl from the back of his throat at the sight of you looking up at him with those big eyes. so ready, so eager to please your husband. it can make him bust a nut in his underwear.

“go on,” he whispers gruffly, letting go of your hand but not before giving it a quick kiss. that gentleman side of his never fails to make an appearance, even during sinful moments like these.

you nod and smile in excitement. you lick your lips before hooking your fingers beneath the material of the jockstraps. you slowly tug it down and free his aching cock from its confines. the thick length springs up, gently slapping against his lower stomach and leaving a smear of sticky pre-cum on the fabric of his blouse.

kento’s cock was a thing of beauty—long, thick, and girthy, with a bulbous head already glistening with arousal. veins puls along the shaft, and a faint clump of blonde curls dusted the base. the musky scent of his desire fill your nostrils, making your head swim with need.

the pre-cum trickles enticingly from the slit of his tip, a drop slithering down slowly to his heavy balls. it’s evident how much you affect the man and it makes your tummy do a flip.

“mmh— kento. y’re so hard already,” you moan as your pink tongue lolls out to lap up the sticky liquid from the head. you give it a couple small licks to tease your partner, a coy grin playing at your lips.

kento growls, one hand coming down to tangle in your hair at the contact. “fuckk, sugar,” he instinctively thrusts his hips forward, the swollen head of his cock brushing against your soft cheek, leaving pearly drops of pre-cum on your skin. “been thinkin’ about this sweet lil’ mouth all damn day. dreamin’ about them pretty lips wrapped around my dick,” he breathes heavily.

the once composed sheriff is a total mess. he squeezes the base of his dick as he gently taps your cheek with it, trying to coax your lips to part. “c’mon. ye can’t keep this from me any longer,” kento grunts with his brows furrowed.

when you blow some warm air on his tip, he throws his head back at the contact. he’s aching for relief and sitting there teasing him. he could manhandle you to comply, but he’s simply too needy for your touch to do so.

kento gulps before looking down at you. his expression is a mix of frustration, pleasure and neediness. his cheeks are flushed, blonde locks covering his eyes. he breathes out his plea in a shaky tone;

“please.”

your jaw drops at that unexpected moment of vulnerability. it’s thrilling and causes you to immediately give in to his charms. you silently hum in agreement before wrapping your lips around his tip, swallowing inch after inch slowly.

a guttural groan tore from kento’s throat as your hot, eager mouth engulfs his twitching cock. the sensation of your tongue swirling around the sensitive head, lapping up the pre that still leaks steadily from the head, was almost more than he could bear. his fingers tighten in your hair, gripping the strands as he fought the urge to thrust deep into your throat and take his pleasure.

“awh shit,” kento growls. his voice is strained with pleasure at this point, not even able to say things properly. “yer mouth feels so fuckin’ good ‘round my dick.” he watches through heavy-lidded eyes as you take him deeper, his thick length disappearing inch by inch between your plump and kiss-swollen lips. the sight of you, on your knees before him, servicing him with such enthusiasm, sends a surge of pure primal satisfaction through him.

you redouble your efforts and bob your head. up and down, up and down—a hypnotic rhythm that has the man in front of you wrapped around your little finger.

“such a good little wife—yeah, jus’ like that,” kento’s hips rock up to your downward movements, driving his cock deeper into the tight, wet heat of your mouth.

he can feel the wet muscles fluttering around him, could hear the obscene sounds of your gagging and slurping as you struggle to take him all the way. but you didn’t stop, didn’t pull away. instead, you start sucking him with a fervor that has him seeing stars.

kento’s eyes roll back and he’s trying his best not to cum on spot. he wants to last longer, wants to relish the feeling of you pleasuring him and most importantly—he wants to spend his cum well. in a place where it can take root, where it’d serve its intended purpose.

inside you.

but it’s hard. so hard. especially when you’re watching his every reaction, eyes so captivating and alluring as you suck the soul out of him.

“don’t—oh lord,” kento grits his teeth as your hands cup his balls and squeeze them, rolling them in your palm. the dual sensations of your mouth and hands working in tandem had his breath coming in harsh pants, his muscular chest heaving with the force of it.

your husband’s head tilts backwards, the chair creaking beneath him as he grips the armrests with white knuckles. he’s lost in the sensation of you worshipping his dick, your moans vibrating around his shaft as you slurp and suck with abandon. he knows he will not last much longer at this rate, knows he is going to paint your mouth white with his seed any second now.

kento doesn’t really want to, but he also does. he’s conflicted, though it’s already too late. one particular suck and his tip hitting the deepest parts of your throat sends him over the edge.

“ah, fuck! cummin’, sweetheart!” he moans loudly, his eyes squeezed shut as the first spurts of his hot seed flow from his cock. he can’t stop it, even as he tries to pull your head off due to the overstimulation.

when you finally let his dick go with a lewd, wet pop, kento gasps for air, pushing the hairs away from your face. you’re looking so debauched, so lost in the pleasure, it sends his blood rushing southwards. again.

“there ye go. swallow it all down f’ me,” he mutters quietly, voice rough as his thumb swipes away at the cum on the corners of your mouth. he watches your throat work as you drink down the taste of him.

before you can catch your breath, kento hauls you up off the floor and onto his lap, his hands gripping your waist tightly. he feels the renewed throb of his erection pressing insistently against your thigh, already aching for more.

“dammit, darlin’,” he clicks his tongue, his voice rough and ragged with lust. “y’ve got me so fuckin’ worked up— can’t hold back no more.” his callused hands slide down to grab your round ass, kneading the flesh roughly as he grinds your clothed cunt against his wet dick.

kento stands abruptly and sweeps the contents of his desk onto the floor with a crash. papers flutter everywhere as he bends you over the now empty surface, the rough wood digging into your soft skin. he can’t care less about those important documents. not when he has his wife in front of him.

he flips the hem of your dress up, the material pooling around your waist to bare your underwear-clad ass. you’re already so wet, your pussy lips clinging to the soaked fabric of your undergarments, outlining your cunt perfectly. it’s a sight that makes kento weak in the knees.

“look at this sweet lil’ ass,” the blonde man rasps, delivering a sharp smack to one cheek. the sound echoes through the office, followed by your startled yelp. “she’s g’nna be hurtin’ when i’m done with her, i bet.”

you arch your back in response to the slaps against your bottom, “mhh, kento. need you real bad.” your ass rippling with each smack to it, along with your soft voice begging for him, makes your husband dizzy.

with a muttered curse, kento rips your underwear off, the flimsy fabric tearing like tissue paper in his large hands. he tosses the ruined garment aside, leaving you bare and exposed to his ravenous touch. his callused fingers delve between your thighs, finding you dripping wet and ready.

“tsk. would ya look at that,” he groans, plunging two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your tight cunt. “yer fuckin’ soaked. practically beggin’ for my cock like the needy lil’ slut you are.”

you can only moan in response, your hips bucking back against his invading fingers. those nasty words being said by your usual sweet lover makes you crave more. the obscene squelch of your arousal fills the air as he pumps his digits in and out of your fluttering pussy. you can feel every ridge and vein on his fingers as they stretch you open so well, preparing you for his thick cock.

“that’s it, baby,” kento encourages, his thumb finding your clit beneath its hood and rubbing the sensitive nub in rough circles. “get this sweet cunt nice and ready f’ me. am gonna make you feel so good, i promise.”

kento’s fingers pump faster, plunging in and out of your dripping pussy with wild abandon. the wet, sloppy sounds of your arousal fill the room as your slick walls clench greedily around the invading digits. he can feel you getting closer, your body tensing and quivering as he worked you towards a peak.

“cummin’ already? naughty girl,” kento growls, his voice a low, dominant rumble, “can’t have that.”

with a harsh tug, he yanks his fingers from your weeping cunt, leaving you empty and aching. “kennnn,” you whine as your fingernails dig into the wooden desk beneath you. you wiggle your hips back in frustration, needing more.

kento can see your hole clenching around air, trying to draw something back inside. the sight makes him groan, his cock throbbing painfully between his thick thighs. he’s such a weak man when it comes to you.

“i hear ya— i hear ya,” he mutters, giving in quickly to your needy whine. your dear husband can’t tease you when you’re basically begging him to take you. he grips himself in one hand, stroking his shaft as he rubs the swollen head over your dripping slit.

kento slides the engorged tip teasingly along your slick folds to coat himself in your arousal as he aligns your lower bodies. with a single thrust of his hips, he buries himself fully inside you. his heavy balls slap against your ass with a faint, meaty smack.

“fuuuck!” kento cusses and his voice echoes off the office walls as he hilts his dick in your wet pussy. no matter how many times he ruins your cunt, it’s still as tight as the first time. “fuckin’ hell, sugar,” he breathes out shakily.

your silken walls grip him like a vice, the slick muscles fluttering and clenching around his fat dick. he pauses for just a moment to savore the exquisite sensation of being buried inside his wife's perfect little cunt.

however, he cannot hold back for long. gripping your hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped dents on your flesh, he begins to move, his thighs flexing as he sets a relentless rhythm. the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room as he fucks into you. the ancient desk creaks and shakes with each forceful thrust. it’s a wonder that old thing isn’t breaking.

“tha’s it, take it,” kento snarls. he punctuates each word with a sharp snap of his hips. the feeling of his slick dick slamming into you over and over has him nearly tearing up from pleasure. this is the way to forget about all his earlier problems

“doing so good, honey. yer squeezin’ the life outta me—good girl,” he praises in-between movements. no matter how much he gets lost in the haze of lust, he’s still the sweet nanami kento you know.

his fingers dig into the meat of your ass, kneading and squeezing the soft flesh as he drives into you again and again. you’re overwhelmed by the stretch, the pure pleasure of his dick molding your insides to fit him and him only.

your toes curl as you struggle to lay steady on your tummy. “o-oh, mmh. right there,” your eyes roll back and your body jolts back and forth in sync with his thrusts. your lower tummy and cunt are tingling, needing more stimulation to build up to that mind-blowing orgasm.

“faster, deeper, please— please,” you mewl. you can’t bring yourself to care about the possibility of others hearing you outside the sheriff’s office. let the town folk gossip and whatnot. at the end of the day, you’re the one winning by having a husband like kento.

your lover leans over your arched back, his sweat-slicked chest pressing against your shoulder blades. he kisses the back of your head with a smile playing on his lips, “as you wish.”

one hand slides up your back, tangling in your hair. kento fists it tightly, using it as a handle to yank your head back, forcing your spine into a deeper arch. the new angle lets him drive even deeper into you, his hard cock kissing your cervix with each rough thrust.

kento’s dick plunges inside your cunt with wild abandon and you’re loving it. your sweet noises intensify and you can’t think about anything else but the feeling of you being split open. the tip of his dick touches the deepest parts of you and it’s painful—but the pain is nothing compared to the mind numbing pleasure.

“there we go. gotta get all up in there, aye?” kento pants harshly against the side of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin. his other hand reaches around to flick your clit before coming to rest on your lower tummy, “that way i can ensure y’re g’nna end up with a swollen belly.”

the implications of his words make you shudder. you know kento’s always been a family man. always dropping hints of wanting to start a family with you when you’re ready. and he never misses the opportunity to pump you full of his potent cum when you do try for a baby.

“k-ken,” you bite your lip at the thought of it. of succeeding to conceive this time. it’d be because of this lewd moment, in his office out all places. it’s so naughty to the point it’s driving you insane.

kento notices how your body is reacting to his dirty talk and grins to himself. he isn’t clueless—he can feel the way you clench around his dick, as if you’re trying to suck every drop of cum out of his sack. “hm? yer cunt is agreein’ with me, it seems,” he hums.

your lover bites your shoulder as his hips pound against your rear with a strength that’s nearly inhuman. your insides are being turned to mush while you’re drowning in ecstasy.

“yer g’nna make such a good momma,” kento continues to whisper those words in your ears, simply to drive you to the brink of an orgasm. he kisses your earlobe lovingly as his deep voice carries on, “can’t wait to see this beautiful body change to carry my child.”

the dirty talk sure is working. he can feel you tensing, could hear the breathy moans and whimpers spilling from your lips as he brings you closer to the edge. he knows your body—knows every inch of you—and he uses that knowledge drive you utterly mad.

“ah, fuck, ken! honey,” you whine. the contrast between his honeyed voice and rough thrusts that send electric jolts down your spine, is maddening. you can feel the knot tightening in your belly, threatening to snap any second now.

kento’s eyes darken and he grunts in response. the hand that’s been playing with your clit moves to hold onto your hip again for leverage, pounding into you with a passion you’ve never felt before.

“i know,” he mutters gruffly as he watches his cock disappear into your greedy cunt, “i know, sugar. just give yerself t’ me. let go.”

that’s all it really takes. kento feels your body go rigid beneath him as your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave. your walls clamp down around his pistoning cock like a silken vise, fluttering and rippling as you cum hard.

you cry out due to your mind-blowing orgasm. your thighs tremble and your body convulses uncontrollably on the desk—eyes closed as your senses focus on the remaining pleasure.

“fuck, yes— yes yes yes,” kento grunts as your slick fluids gush out around his dick. he can feel the warm, slick heat of your juices splash against his balls and drip down his thighs. the sight of you coming undone on his dick, the sound of your screams of ecstasy filling the room, pushes him over the edge as well.

kento slams into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt in your spasming, sensitive pussy. his cock jerks and throbs inside you as thick ropes of cum erupt from the tip. he can feel each spurt of his load, can count the pulsing jets of cum as he pump you full with it.

“take it—let me breed ya real good,” he pants while grinding his hips against your ass to properly empty himself inside your pulsing cunt. kento shudders as his hips lazily move in small, shallow circles, “get it all nice ‘n deep in there.. yeaaah, good job.”

his grip on your hair tightens for a moment, forcing you to arch you back even more as he slowly rides his orgasm out, his release seeming to go on and on. he senses his hot seed sloshing inside you, can already picture it flooding your fertile womb and taking root.

finally, with a shuddering groan, kento collapses against your back. his large frame easily blankets your smaller one. he notices your body trembling beneath him, could hear the soft whimpers and mewls spilling from you lips as you came down from your high as well. despite that, he stays buried inside you, not wanting to lose a single drop of his cum.

“yer so perfect,” your lover whispers and nuzzles his face into your neck, “the most perfect woman a man could ask for.” that gentleman side of his now makes a full return, as it always does after a particularly rough session. kento takes aftercare quite seriously.

his hands rub your sides and massage your body in places he knows will be sore later on. his lips leave trails of kisses from your neck to your shoulders and back—a testament of his love for you.

after making sure you’re okay, kento eases himself up off your back, his softening dick slipping from your tender folds with a squelch. he looks down to see your combined fluids leaking out from your slit, dripping down your thighs to pool on the rough wood beneath you.

the sight makes him bite back a groan. if it wasn’t for the ounce of self control left inside of him, he’d go for a second round. but he can’t. his coworkers will be back soon anyway.

kento helps you up as well, his hands gripping your waist to steady you as your shaky legs find their footing. “mmh, my lovely wife,” he smiles at you as he cups your face into his hands. he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and pulls you into a hug, “thank you so much. don’t think i would’ve even survived today if ye didn’t show up.”

you giggle at kento’s dramatics and hug him back tightly, body slowly recovering from the intense passion you two just shared. the fog on the nearby window, the steamy tension and the scent of sex still lingers in the air—something you have to take care of soon before others come to visit.

but for now, you’ll just enjoy the warmth of your husband’s embrace. that’s all what really matters.

[swordgrace]

𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐒𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ cregan stark x fem!targtower!reader.

SYNOPSIS: as the youngest daughter of alicent hightower, you are wed to the young wolf, cregan stark. what many believe to be a union of strife, such a notion is proven wrong very quickly.

anonymous request.

{ FORMAT: one-shot — requested by anon.

{ WORD COUNT: 6.7K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), arranged marriage, reader is a targtower with pale hair & lilac eyes, skin color unspecified, first time sex (for reader), loss of virginity, p in v sex (unprotected), massive breeding kink, all stark men have a breeding gene, oral sex / cunnilingus (fem!rec), face-sitting, biting/marking, making out, lots of touching, missionary position, talk of having a child, soft ending + aftercare

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: There’s been a ton of Cregan requests, so I hope that this satisfies a lot of people until I post another! ❤️ Thank you all so much for the incredible requests and support of my work, it means the world to me and I am extremely grateful for all of it. See you guys soon!

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 — 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐜𝐞.

The North was often regarded as a harsh and unyielding environment, with bitter, stinging winds and snowfalls that could bury men alive beneath their might. Such tales were often told to scare children or dissuade them from leaving the roost.

It was untamed and savage, according to your mother — she who vehemently fought against your betrothal to Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. A marriage steeped in wariness and discord, you had been pleasantly surprised by your husband’s kindness and warm stoicism.

Piety was a rarity in the bleak, bloodsoaked world you lived within — innocence was a quality as uncommon as a diamond in the rough. When Cregan had been offered such a sacred proposal during the last days of King Viserys I, he nearly scoffed at it.

A Targaryen, a Hightower — he almost imagined that the both of you would not do well together, and that it would become a sour union, made only to please families and uphold duty. His advisors, old men with embittered grudges against the South, cautioned him away from it, imploring him to wed a girl from the Vale or the Reach.

When Cregan Stark met you, clad in pale shades of sage and ivory, with lilac hues and a smile that could melt even the toughest of ice, perhaps it would not be a dreadful marriage after all.

Even with a dragon at your heel, there was something positively resplendent about you — Cregan could feel it within his marrow, a feeling seldom felt by any man locked in an arranged betrothal.

It was your innocuous, tenderhearted nature that beguiled him, as if you unconsciously drew him in with your honey. Your very first meeting happened to be to seal the marriage pact itself before you would be shipped away to the North, to be his wife and the new Lady Stark.

Cregan rarely found himself charmed by anyone, yet you possessed an inner beauty that flourished in his presence. You were your own flame, burning through his hardened exterior. He did not mistake your docile nature for weakness — you possessed a dragon, where he did not.

You were rather taken with him, perplexed by his outward ruggedness and gruff accent, the way in which he carried himself, massive physique clad in the thick trappings of a wolf. He was a mountain of a man, yet he handled you as if you were some precious jewel, sacred and worthy of admiration.

Alicent begrudgingly watched as you, her youngest daughter, untainted by her own fractured morality, was sent away to the North in the hands of some brute. For the good of the Realm, Viserys had told her, but it cut deeper knowing that it was you, her beloved flesh and blood.

Yet, as you found yourself beneath the crimson leaves of the Weirwood Tree in the Godswood, hands bound with Cregan’s own, you forgot about your mother’s bitterness entirely — and you were happy.

The first kiss was one that would make a permanent residence within your memory for lifetimes to come. He had cradled your face, towering over you as if he were a solemn statue, but even you could see the softening within his visage.

King’s Landing was suffocating, more often than not. The animosity that festered between your family smothered you, crushing you beneath its sharp heel. You were no longer surrounded by bitterness and resentment, and instead, cloaked by the protection and warmth of your new husband.

The feast held in honor of your blossoming union was one of merriment, the mood lighthearted and blissful. You sat beside your husband, stomach tumbling with a coil of nerves. Everyone seemed foreign to you, unfamiliar faces with their northern attitudes and odd indifference.

You could not fault anyone for having their suspicions, given your heritage. Being a Targaryen, pale-headed and violet-eyed, bringing your dragon from the South — it must’ve been jarring. Growing into your station as the Lady of Winterfell would be a long and arduous process, but you hoped that Cregan would show you the way.

Oblivious to your Lord-Husband’s smoldering stare, you politely consumed bites of the sugar-dusted fruit cobbler, admiring the vibrant aura within the room. Your wedding gowns were as pure as the driven snow, accented with silver embroidery and lined with pale fleece to keep you warm, given the cold gnaw of winter.

If it weren’t for Cregan’s steadfastness in providing you with a new wardrobe fit for winter, the icy chill would’ve consumed your extremities from the inside-out.

Leaning over within his seat, Cregan reached for your hand, stormy-gray hues churning with a kindness reserved for you. “How are you faring, wife?” He inquired, voice a low rumble; a soothing timbre that sent shivers down your spine.

“Very well,” Warmth crawled along your flesh when he referred to you as wife so openly and affectionately. You weren’t accustomed to having someone be so attentive to you, hang upon your every word, treat you with such courteousness. “This is so wonderful. I must thank you and your Keep, for your kindness.”

If you were anyone else, Cregan might’ve treated you with a stalwart cordiality found in most formalities, but you were not anyone else. You were good, sweet, and kindhearted — above all, you were quite innocent. He would’ve been telling himself a bold lie if he hadn’t thought about taking you to bed several times already.

The colors of the North suited you — his home suited you. Not many men of his position were so lucky when it came to betrothals, but he felt as if he was beyond fortunate to have married you. Cregan only hoped to be a good husband to you and to your future children, heirs to Winterfell, with the blood of the dragon and the wolf in their veins.

He had forbidden a bedding ceremony, content to guide you to your chambers once the festivities ceased, instead. Cregan enjoyed observing you and your demure mannerisms, from the way you made small talk with those around you, complimenting the choice of food and drink. It warmed his heart to know that his wife was an amiable soul.

“You needn’t worry, Princess. It is my duty as your husband to show you a bit of Northern hospitality.” Cregan mused, a ghost of a smile tugging at either corner of his mouth. He rarely showed any emotion, let alone treating his subjects with a smile given his hardiness, but he did show a sliver of it for you. He didn’t want to scare you away.

With a delighted smile, your hand shyly curled around his, your skin unblemished and soft. Cregan hadn’t touched a woman as silky as you, and it made his blood run hot — an inopportune time, given that it was in the midst of his wedding feast. “Thank you, my Lord.” You weren’t sure if you were permitted to abandon formalities just yet.

Cregan huffed, gaze twinkling with amusement as he let your smaller hand hold his own, digits tenderly caressing over your knuckles. “I would hope that you only call me ‘my Lord’ if you’re angry with me,” His chest rumbled with an affectionate sound. “You aren’t in King’s Landing anymore.”

Embarrassment rippled through you, but before you could correct yourself out of anxiousness, Cregan gingerly squeezed your hand. Instead, it evoked a smile from you, the very same tender expression you’d given him when you were proclaimed as his wife. “I will call you husband when I am pleased with you.” You mused, bright as could be, and so blissfully naive.

Often regarded as a brooding, serious man with little traces of humor, Cregan found himself letting his guard down just enough with you. Of course, to any observer, he still seemed rather stoic, but the brief, fleeting looks he gave you, the threadbare smiles — it suggested otherwise.

As the excitable buzz of the feast began to simmer, Cregan stood from the table, wood scraping across the stone floors of the Great Hall. He stepped away from you, sparing the servants and guardsmen a word before he returned to your side.

“Is there not to be a bedding ceremony?” You whispered, stomach still tight and festering with nervousness. It was something you feared since you last saw Aegon and Helaena be hauled away for such a thing. The concept of it frightened you, twisted and unusual.

With furrowed brows, Cregan shook his head, offering his thick arm out for you to take. “No,” He grunted, noticing the swell of anxiousness etched into your features. “I would never subject you to such a thing, or myself.” He murmured, feeling you take his arm as he led you from the Great Hall.

Relief flooded through you, and you finally relaxed, seemingly appreciative of Cregan’s thoughtfulness in the matter. “Thank you, husband.” You sighed, gripping onto his arm as he led you into a warm corridor and towards a massive spiral of thick, stone steps.

Though, you still had a duty to perform — consummating the marriage, creating an heir. Part of you feared what it all entailed, given that Helaena never seemed pleased with any of it. Would he hurt you? You were uncertain, but you wanted to believe that your new husband would keep you safe.

Cregan welcomed you into your marital chambers, tidied and polished for your stay. Whatever belongings you brought with you, they were situated near a set of fine, wooden chairs circled around a stone table. Everything seemed warm and comely in his quarters, the direwolf aesthetic heavy-handed, the hearth crackling and bursting with ripples of fire.

“If there is something not to your liking, inform me — I will have it rearranged,” Cregan rumbled, following in your footsteps as you neared the open hearth, warming your hands and basking in its glow. He stood close to you, towering over you with his bulk and might. “How are you?” He asked, ensuring your comfort above all else.

There was little need for the hearth when Cregan was near, radiating a natural heat that drew you in. His countenance seemed softer, not nearly as impassive as he’d been before. “I am more than fine, I promise.” You assured him, hands wringing together. “I thought that I would miss home, but I do not. Isn’t that terrible?”

Perplexed, Cregan seemed inclined to listen to your elaboration, chestnut tresses framing his face. “It isn’t a terrible thing, princess. I would imagine that it must be freeing, to be somewhere else. You’ve never left the capital.” He replied, knowing that you were quite sheltered for most of your life.

A soft sigh escaped you, and you tried not to think about it anymore. You didn’t want to sour the mood with talk of home and the past — this was now. “It is liberating,” You confessed, craning to look at him with a semblance of wonder and affection. “I am happy that I’m here with you.” You spoke with genuineness and finality.

It was pleasing to hear you say such a thing, and even better to know that you truly meant it. One thick, burly arm slowly encircled your hips, bringing you into the warm expanse of his chest. “Good,” He murmured, expression steely. “That pleases me greatly.”

To know that Cregan valued your happiness was a wonderful feeling — you felt cared for and seen, shrouded within his protectiveness. You imagined that it would be a blissful marriage. “Thank you, Cregan.” His name slipped from your perfect tongue, and he thoroughly enjoyed the sound it made.

A low rumble vibrated through Cregan’s chest as he drew you as close as he could, tracing his calloused digits along the soft curve of your jaw. “You are very beautiful,” He murmured, timbre edged with a delicious husk that made your knees buckle. You shivered, something that he took note of. “Are you cold, wife?”

You nodded, sucking in a sharp breath when his lips neared yours. “I am.” A squeak escaped you, followed by a steady exhale. You had been kissed before, but the extent of your experience abruptly stopped there. You imagined that you wouldn’t be cold for much longer.

His lips met yours, the kiss tender yet passionate, deepened by your husband. Cregan found your mouth to be most pleasant, pliant and perfectly soft, yet malleable. You reciprocated his kiss, hands moving to press against his chest.

“Will it be painful?” You whispered, likely in an attempt to soothe your gnawing nervousness. Agony was something that didn’t coexist with pleasure, in your mind. You wanted this moment to be special and sacred, binding yourself to your husband.

Cregan hesitated, gently cupping your face with his rough palm, tenderly stroking along your cheek. “I wouldn’t dare harm you, princess. You have my word.” He assured, and it confirmed his suspicions — you hadn’t been with another before. “It might be painful, but I will be gentle. We don’t have to start tonight.”

Admittedly, it was quite the opposite for you — you wanted to start tonight, but you longed for clarification first, and he gave it to you. You shook your head, hands slipping toward the front of his tunic, as if silently pleading with him to stay. “I want to.” You insisted, looking like the picture of innocence.

As much as he liked you sweet and pious, Cregan had a feeling that it would be somewhat different after this. His gray hues swirled with a heavy desire, dropping towards the delicate curve of your mouth. “May I?” It was all that he needed to ask, and as soon as you nodded, he brought you in for a heated kiss.

Despite his appearance, a stone-faced wall of muscle and Northern strength, he was incredibly gentle with you. He held you against him, never tight enough to cause you discomfort, hands softly kneading into your hips. You kissed him back as best as you could, feverishly hot, butterflies erupting within your stomach.

His beautiful wife — Cregan could not imagine another, now that he had you in his arms. The way you kissed him was innocuous and tender, as if you were also terrified of making a mistake. Your purity, a precious thing indeed, would be tarnished and dissolved after this evening.

The thought of you, round and swollen with his child, was both tantalizing and tempting — well within his grasp. Cregan wondered if they would take after you, pale-headed with lilac hues, or perhaps himself. If the Gods were good, they would be a blend of the both of you, a dragon and a wolf.

You shivered again when your burly husband curled his hand into the back of your wedding gown, fingers slipping between the gaps, feeling inklings of your bare skin beneath. “I’ll keep you warm, wife.” He rumbled, pressing a kiss against your jaw. It wasn’t from the cold, he knew this, but his honeyed words made you flustered.

He dropped his cloak, allowing the thick curtain of fur to land against the floor. He was impossibly broad, as thick as stone, tunic loose yet snug enough to accentuate his brawn. You felt your breath hitch within your throat, swallowing another barrage of nerves.

Cregan’s mouth assailed your neck, hand peeling away the collar of pale fur in order to reach you. Every kiss was passionate, wrought with need, yet maintained that air of gentleness. Roughness was in his nature, but he wouldn’t dare fall into that pit on your wedding night.

You tasted ambrosial, sweet velvet beneath his lips, which peppered themselves wherever they could. He listened to your soft gasps and needy whines, your hands having curled into the coarse material of his tunic. He wanted to show you just how perfect you really were.

Suddenly, your gown felt much too tight and constricting, as if you would drown within it. You alleviated such sensations by loosening the bodice, tugging on the ivory strings. The fur became unraveled as Cregan gently draped the garment over the back of a chair.

Left in the thin, humble trappings of your smallclothes, nothing more than a corset hugging a linen slip, he silently appraised you with the hunger of a wolf. You appeared to be shy, somewhat coy in his presence as he looked you over, large palms settling against the swell of your hips.

“Why do you shy away?” Cregan murmured, chestnut brows furrowing together, tone one of genuine concern. You were the prettiest creature he’d ever seen — most Targaryens were known for their beauty, but you possessed it both ways, inner and outer, and that only made you more incomparable in his eyes.

Swallowing your nerves, you chewed at the inside of your cheek, hands fidgeting together. “I suppose I worry about what you’ll think,” A sore insecurity, to be sure, but something most young maidens possessed. Cregan’s gray hues softened, one hand stroking along the length of your spine. “That I won’t be suitable.”

A huff escaped him, a threadbare chuckle as he shook his head, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “You worry too much, princess.” That deep, thunderous timbre of his, husky with his Northern accent, shook you right to your core. “You are my wife — and you are perfect.” He assured, kissing along your jaw.

You exhaled, hands reaching for his tunic, wanting to see him without his clothing. There was a rush of warmth that crawled across your flesh, surging through your blood as Cregan pressed endless kisses against your skin. He trailed from jaw to collarbone, hands loosening your corset.

With a brusque tug, your gruff husband tore it from you altogether, tossing the bodice aside. “I will show you how perfect you are.” He rumbled, voice a low, heavy caress near the shell of your ear. You shivered, gaze half-lidded as you tugged insistently at his tunic.

The message was unspoken, but conveyed nonetheless as your mountain of a husband let his hands drop from you, only to tug the coarse, dark linen over his head. He was burly, broad-shouldered and thick with muscle, wisps of chestnut tresses framing his face.

Amusingly enough, Cregan possessed more of a cherubic, youthful face than you expected, yet his nose was slightly crooked from having it broken, faint scars upon his face. His eyes seemed wisened, old beyond his years. He reached for your slip, gathering the material within his hands as he looked to you for consent.

With your confidence rejuvenated, you nodded, breathless and wanton as you assisted him in maneuvering out of your thin smallclothes. The brief lick of chilled air dragged across your bare flesh, causing your nipples to harden, pebbling with the chill.

Fire danced across your physique, tantalizing and gorgeous, beautiful beyond compare. Even Cregan seemed speechless for a beat, throat reverberating with a low grunt as he motioned toward your shared bed.

You half-expected him to pounce on you, grab your hips and stake his claim, but he simply resorted to watching you slide onto the bed, covered in furs of all varieties. The frame rustled slightly, and you laid down, a picture of true perfection. Your crown of pale tresses seemed to stick out amidst the darker pallor of the furs.

Anticipation churned violently within your gut, arousal slick and mounting between your thighs as Cregan stalked closer, removing clothing in the process. You watched with bated breath as he loosened the ties of his breeches, removing them altogether.

It was to be expected — a man of his indomitable stature likely had the assets to accompany it. You nearly choked at the sight of him, terrified that it really would hurt, even if he was gentle. You sucked in a sharp breath, bewildered when he had reclined beside you instead.

“I won’t bite, my Lady.” Cregan rumbled, soothingly patting his lap as you crawled closer. He effortlessly picked you up, letting you straddle his hips as he admired you from below. “Hm.” With a hum of approval, he caressed along your form, stroking from your thigh to your breasts.

It was agonizingly deliberate, made to explore and study instead of acting upon salacious impulses. Cregan observed you closely, palm gently cupping your breast, thumb swiping over your nipple. You gasped, careening into his sensual embrace.

A flurry of desire bubbled within him when you planted your smaller hand atop his, as if encouraging him to knead and grope at his leisure. He seemed pleased, and so did you, a low hum escaping you as he caressed your silky flesh.

He made sure to show that same amount of attention to your unattended breast, slowly kneading into you. Those tempestuous gray hues never tore themselves away from you, boring into you with a searing intensity.

Warm slick coalesced between your thighs, only mounting and growing when he continued to touch you, hand lifting to cup your chin. You absentmindedly leaned into his touch, eyes becoming half-lidded as you rocked forward within his lap.

The sensations you felt were new and exhilarating, goosebumps dancing across your spine, heat pooling between your legs. “May I touch you?” You asked, tone delicate and sweet, a display of your piety and innocence. He quite enjoyed your desire to explore alongside him, and he gave a nod of his head.

“You don’t need to ask, princess.” He soothed, jaw tensing as your soft palms settled against his chest. Cregan’s stormy eyes didn’t leave you, carefully tracing each plane of your curves, the downy texture of your skin, the lilac glint of your eyes.

Your fingertips dragged across his musculature, committing each scar to memory, features becoming hot beneath his incendiary stare. He was your husband now — you imagined that scenarios like these would become commonplace. “You are so handsome,” You whispered incredulously, lips curling into a gentle smile. “Perfect.”

Cregan appeared perplexed, a soft huff escaping him as he trailed his calloused palm across the small of your back. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had called him perfect and meant it — and he knew that you did. He neglected to act, allowing you to explore as much as you pleased.

Awestruck, he watched with silent hunger as you leaned down, lips pressing against his own. A soft grunt escaped Cregan as he caged you in, mouth passionate as it tangled with yours. He enjoyed the feeling of your body snug atop his, your skin resplendent, like velvet against the grating bite of stone.

Dragging a hand from the swell of your hips to the nape of your neck, he gripped the base of your skull, gingerly kneading into your pale tresses. He kissed you again, oozing with desire as he stole every wisp of air from your lungs.

He pulled one leg up into a v-shape, supporting your back to keep you upright atop his lap. You could feel the thick girth of his cock nudge against your backside, causing you to shiver at the foreign sensation. “Do you trust me?” Cregan murmured, roughened fingertips dragging over the pliant flesh of your thigh.

There was an indiscernible look within his eyes, chestnut brows drawing together slightly. Your breath hitched as you nodded, and Cregan settled against the furs, strewn on his back. Those strong hands of his continued to nudge you forward, bringing you from his warm lap to his chest, and then a touch closer.

“What are you …” Uncertain yet filled with exhilaration, you had no idea what Cregan was planning. Your slick cunt neared his mouth, and your Northern paramour did little to slow the process, bumping you forward until you hovered above him. “C—Cregan, C —” Your voice tapered off into a whine.

His tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, a sensation that immediately made your knees buckle. You used the headboard to brace yourself, mouth tearing open as a strangled gasp escaped you. Part of you feared sitting down entirely, but Cregan coaxed you down, hands digging into your haunches.

Your reaction was beyond worthwhile, body trembling and coiled, hand scrambling to brace yourself as the other fervently dug into his chestnut tresses. You never imagined that such pleasure was even possible, filling you with an excitable ecstasy that sank into your bones.

Splitting past your folds, Cregan tasted every inch of you, tongue seeking your cunt with a fervor. He was vigorous in his ministrations, not shying away from consuming every drop of your arousal. His nose brushed against your mound, hands kneading into your thighs to reassure you, let you know that he had you.

Even when he rested beneath you, he still seemed indomitable, perhaps a touch intimidating. You didn’t look down, body involuntarily trembling and rocking forward, back beginning to arch. “Gods, a—ah!” You stammered, thighs twitching and quivering as his tongue gently flicked over your clit.

Visibly flustered, you felt so strange and smitten, riding your husband’s face as you would your dragon. It filled your belly with a rousing fire, one bright enough to consume the rest of your body, licking along the length of your spine.

A low rumble emerged from Cregan’s chest, a vibration that rattled you to your core. He wanted you to have your fill, take as much as you could and drown within pleasure. Your maidenhead was still intact, a virtue that he did not treat lightly. He didn’t feel the need to breathe, lapping at your cunt with a wolfish gluttony.

You were undeniably soaked, like a fine stout upon his tongue as he devoured you. Cregan was passionate, each stroke of his tongue ensuring that you felt it all, bliss erupting throughout your stomach.

Chasing after what you imagined to be your release, you happened to peer down for a moment, finding the contented face of your husband, whose face was lodged between your legs. His brows were creased in concentration, tongue prodding against your entrance before languidly flicking back to your clit.

It was only when he pursed his lips around that sensitive clutch of nerves, that you nearly collapsed around him. Even your draconic blood could melt, tempered by the hardened ice of your Northern paramour. You gasped, hips stuttering as your thighs squeezed at either side of his head — fortunately, he didn’t seem to care.

The only thing you wanted was this, forever — your husband’s tongue between your legs, a sanctuary in the North with a potential family, a life in which you could finally find your solace. You continued to squirm and writhe, moaning his praises into the warmth of your chambers.

As you approached your peak, you grappled with Cregan’s tresses, tugging at the root as you rocked forward, again and again. “Cregan,” You moaned, countenance contorting into a look of sheer pleasure, bones crawling with an insatiable heat. “Cregan, Cregan, please!” It was a siren’s song of desire.

He did not stop, but he didn’t change course, either. Instead, he simply continued on, suckling at your clit as he intermingled it with timed laps of his tongue. Your release slammed into you, white-hot and blistering, gnawing away at your stomach as that coil of heat effectively snapped.

A whine emerged from you, one that was nearly breathless as you rocked forward again, legs shaking from ecstasy as you rode out your peak. Cregan, ever the dutiful husband, lapped at your nectar, savoring the taste, the scent of a pleasurable aftermath.

“What —” You had to catch your breath again, attempting to recuperate as you sat back on his chest instead, thick, burly muscle plentiful enough to cushion you. “Where did you learn how to do that?” It was an innocuous question, one so sweetly-spoken that it nearly caused Cregan to chuckle.

He did, however, smile — a rare, sentimental gesture reserved only for you. It was threadbare, and if it weren’t for the nature of your relationship, one might’ve thought him to be rugged and indifferent. “You need only ask, princess, and I will oblige.” His voice was a deep rumble that warmed your insides.

You thoroughly enjoyed the nickname of princess — a term of endearment given your status, but you were a princess no longer. “I am a lady of the North now, aren’t I? A princess no longer,” You proclaimed, skin shimmering with perspiration. “What will you call me, now?” You asked.

“Hm,” Cregan contemplated, pressing a kiss against your leg before he sat up enough to have a good look at you, chin still glistening with your slick. The sight was lewd, enough to make you unbelievably flustered as he grew closer, nearly chest-to-chest with you. “Lady Stark would suffice.” He murmured.

Something amorous burned within you, a smolder that soon turned to ignited sparks. “It would please me greatly.” You hummed, running your hands over his biceps before Cregan gently changed places with you, moving you beneath his bulk, comfortable upon your back.

Soft was a mere understatement — he could feel himself melt. It was not your dragon’s blood or heat that made him crumble, but your heart. He could imagine you as the mother of his children, belly round with his heirs, the Lady of Winterfell, a Hightower no longer.

He settled between your legs, and you gasped when his cock gently glided against your slick core. Cregan knew to temper himself, to be as gentle as he could with it being your wedding night, but his resolve was steadily diminished in your presence. He steeled himself, pressing a string of kisses along your body.

Without thinking, you unconsciously goaded Cregan into a point of near-frenzy. Your hands found the taut, trunk-like muscle of his biceps, visage filled with a sense of awe and adoration. “A child would please me greatly.” You confessed, having no clue what it would do to your husband.

Cregan stopped, digits curling into the thick furs on either side of your head. It took every fiber of his being not to fuck you then and there — and he wouldn’t, it wasn’t right for him to take your maidenhead with such roughness. His fantasy became reality, a visceral, beautiful vision that made him grunt, jaw unnaturally tense.

His rough palm soothingly stroked along your thigh, lust swelling within him like a blizzard, a violent storm of need that transcended all bonds of propriety. “Does Lady Stark want me to put a pup in her belly?” Cregan rumbled, tempestuous hues ignited with a fire that demanded to be extinguished, sending shockwaves right to your core.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, shuddering at the sound of his voice — an edged husk, like the rumbling of thunder before a deluge or the shaking of a mountain. “Yes,” You exhaled, searching his countenance, only to find desire. “I would.”

The Gods were testing him, aiming to see if he would break beneath the pressure, but he refused. Cregan lowered himself over you, lips molding themselves against yours in a hot kiss. Your hands remained poised atop his biceps, barely able to wrap themselves around the thick, corded muscle.

He wasn’t much of a talker, and it quickly dwindled into deep grunts and heavier sighs as he aligned his cock with your entrance. He made sure to part your legs, keeping them spread as he began to push inside of you. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, startled at the twinge of pain, the discomfort of it all.

Cregan despised the mere thought of causing you harm, and even he was willing to end it all then and there. “We don’t have to continue, beloved.” He rumbled, pressing a soothing string of kisses along your face. The endearing nickname made you preen, nails digging into his arms.

“No, I — I’m well enough,” You breathed, insistent on continuing. Cregan deliberated, but when you let out a low whine, he obeyed your command. “Gods, I need you, Cregan.” Pitched with a wanton resonance, you urged him to keep going.

Your neediness made his blood run hot, and he nodded, sluggishly resuming his pace. He continued to tilt his hips forward, cock feeding into you, inch by agonizing inch. Cregan felt the desperate bite of your nails clutching into muscle, leaving behind angry crescents.

You were never fully warned of the pain, the discomfort that accompanied pleasure. It was always sold as some fantasy, particularly for men — nights of heavenly passion resulting in bliss. For you, it was simply a marital duty to provide your husband with an heir, but this transcended that. Passion and affection sparked between the both of you, and it felt right.

As Cregan finally bottomed out inside of you, he allowed you time to fully adjust, rocking into you at a lackadaisical pace. He continued to shower you in kisses, wherever his lips could reach, giving particular affection to the crook of your neck.

Whatever discontent you felt, you hastily pushed it aside, tossing it into the recesses of your mind. Instead, you focused on him — on how incredible he made you feel, the warmth you experienced in his presence. One of your hands slipped to thread within his chestnut tresses, mouth agape.

You took him so well — better than expected, and it filled him with a sense of pride and ardor. Cregan pressed hungry kisses along your throat, nose buried into the hollow of it, right beneath your jugular. He continued to go slow, afraid of causing you further pain.

Cregan repositioned his hand, leaving one lodged beside your head, the other sinking into your haunch, digits tenderly kneading into your thigh. It was an offer of reassurance, and he watched your countenance shift from discontented to relaxed.

“Move,” The sharpness of your command brought him to heel, and he very nearly smiled — it was there, the ghost of it toying at his lips. Bringing his hips back and then forward, you moaned, knowing that the sting of pain would soon blossom into pleasure. “Please.”

Molten heat swirled within the pit of your stomach, arousal thick between your legs as Cregan began to find his pace, a rhythm that shook you to your core. He was so very gentle, even for a man of his herculean mass and muscle. He took care of you, soothingly caressing your thigh as he thrusted into you.

His cock filled you completely, a stretch that would take you more than just one night to adjust to. Your maidenhead was gone, your cunt tight around his length, pulling him in again and again.

Cregan’s breathing became heavier, somewhat labored as he consummated your union. Each snap of his hips held meaning, beyond the creation of an heir. It was tenuous with feelings, a burning sentiment he felt for you, ardor that had grown into a fire.

Admittedly, his mind was hazy, fueled by desire and the mere thought of you wanting a child — you had asked it of him, demanded, and he was at your mercy. Cregan couldn’t have gotten any luckier with you, the most resplendent woman he’d ever seen.

Imagining you full and round, still as lovely as the day he set his eyes upon you, a mother and a dragon — it was nothing short of true perfection. He chased after it, evident by the growing vigor and passion in each thrust of his hips, cock nearly tearing you into two.

No matter how gentle and careful Cregan was with you, it was to no avail, but you no longer cared. “Cregan,” You moaned, lifting one leg to hitch it around his waist, and that only seemed to further spur him on, allowing him to hit new depths. His throbbing length nearly kissed your womb, filling you to the brim. “Cregan!” You cried.

For a moment, you feared being split in-half by your mountain of a husband, but he slowed enough to let you recuperate, throat reverberating with carnal grunts. The rumbling of his chest, the heat that radiated from him in waves — it was all perfect.

It was driving him mad, the way your cunt constricted around his cock, the way in which your back arched from the furs, chest brushing against his. Cregan grunted, jaw set and brows furrowed in concentration as he kneaded into your thigh, something to alleviate his tension.

His thrusts deepened, became passionate and invigorated with love, and each snap of his hips made your head spin with delirium. You were drunk on desire, clinging to him as if you were a drowning maiden, hand splayed against his shoulder.

Whenever he happened to become a touch too vigorous, he felt your nails dig deep into his flesh, leaving behind the reddened marks of your consummation. Cregan was getting close, chest erupting with labored pants as he pressed his forehead against yours.

You moaned, body bending beneath his passion, malleable within his hands. His cock throbbed within you as he sought to spill his seed, face against yours, lips occasionally connecting in a series of sloppy, warm kisses. Everything felt incredible, in ways that you couldn’t comprehend.

He was so burly, a thick wall of impenetrable muscle that seemed to envelop you entirely, shield you from everything else, from all harm. Strands of chestnut stuck to his temples, flesh glittering with perspiration from the exertion of lovemaking, coupled with the heat in your chambers.

With another brusque thrust of his hips, he settled inside of you, reaching his peak with a subtle groan. His seed filled your cunt in hot ropes, more than enough to take, if the Gods were good. Cregan exhaled, feverishly hot as he began to recuperate, neglecting to remove himself from you for a few moments.

“Are you alright?” Cregan murmured, ensuring your wellbeing first, above all else. A stinging soreness settled into your thighs and your core, but you would survive. He didn’t completely obliterate you, thankfully — you wondered what he would be like, unrestrained.

“Yes,” You smiled, visibly flustered beneath the intensity of his stare. “That was incredible.” Your confession made him huff, likely one of amusement as he pressed a kiss against your forehead. Even you glittered with sweat, but that was to be expected.

You already wanted more — and you nearly asked it of him.

Lascivious fantasies took root within your mind, and the mere idea of him being rough and completely domineering made your cunt throb. You could not do it now, given how exhausted you were, but he had certainly unlocked a new side to you, a side that you were unfamiliar with.

Cregan pulled himself from you, propping your hips up beneath a feathered pillow to ensure that his seed would take. He rested beside you, drawing you into the bulk of his muscled arms, allowing you to rest your head against the expanse of his chest. “You were perfect.” He rumbled, roughened digits stroking along your spine.

It pleased you to know that your husband was satisfied with you, much to your delight. “I am glad,” Relief rippled through you as you inched closer, perfectly slotted against his frame. “So were you.” Your pleasant accolades made him smile, fracturing his stony exterior.

“There will be plenty of time for this, that I can promise you,” Cregan was more concerned with getting to know you, his beautiful lady-wife, Lady Stark. “I would like to start with you.” He murmured, savoring the sensation of your fingers tracing across his abdomen.

You blinked, seemingly surprised by Cregan’s genuine interest in you. It made you happy — perhaps you could have both. Moments of learning and moments like these, where you could indulge in pleasure.

“Would it offend you if I asked you to do both?” You questioned, warmth crawling along your body as Cregan squeezed the swell of your hip, gray hues sparkling with a semblance of mirth.

“It wouldn’t,” Cregan mused, timbre dropping to a lull, a husky octave that seemed to envelop you in its stoicism and warmth. “It pleases me to know that Lady Stark possesses the appetite of a dragon.” His teasing made you squirm, but he simply caressed you and held you closer.

With a coy smile, you lifted your head, pressing your lips against his, asserting your still-lingering desire for your husband. “Not a dragon,” Your tone softened with a sweeter resonance. “A wolf.”

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not steal my work and claim it as your own or translate it onto other platforms.

[yuujispinkhair]

College Boy!Sukuna accidentally knocking you up

A while ago, I saw a post that asked which of our faves accidentally knocks us up, and I answered it with "CollegeBoy!Sukuna." So here is the fic about that ;)

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. College AU. Light angst with a happy end. 2k words. Pregnancy, mentions of Sukuna smoking a cigarette. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider@/plutism + dollsciples

"Damn, princess, how long does that shitty thing need?"

Sukuna has dropped his usual act of aloofness. For once, there is no teasing comment coming out of his mouth, no arrogant smirk, no flirty wink, and no charming look out of those beautiful maroon eyes. Your usually so arrogant and tough bad boy is scared shitless.

For the last few minutes, he has been playing with his tongue-piercing continuously, driving you almost insane with the constant noise of the metal barbell connecting with Sukuna's teeth. But you can't blame him. You are even more nervous than Sukuna.

You lean closer to the old couch table again, looking at the pregnancy test that's lying there, and your stomach twists painfully. There's a change now. A second line has appeared on the little test strip. You feel your heart drop.

The alarm on your phone goes off right at that moment, making you jump as you grab the test with shaky fingers. Holding the sheet with the instructions in the other hand, you read them feverishly as if you haven't already learned them by heart. As if you don't already know what the two lines mean!

Sukuna leans across the table, too,

"What does it say?"

But you only hear his voice muffled as if you are underwater. You stare at the two lines on the pregnancy test, feeling your head spin. Sukuna's large hand darts out and wraps around your trembling wrist, pulling your hand and the test towards him while repeating his question more urgently this time.

But you can't say anything and just throw the test in Sukuna's lap. He grabs it and stares at it, his maroon eyes going wide as comprehension dawns on his beautiful, tattooed face.

"Fuck."

That's all he says, and then he looks at you with wide eyes, shock and fear written all over his face. He looks younger somehow, like a scared little boy. His lips open, but no words come out. He closes them again and gulps hard.

And then Sukuna gets up from the couch and practically bolts from the small living room, walking so fast that he has reached the apartment door before you even realize what he's doing.

His large hand is already on the door handle, pushing it open when your mind finally catches up with what is going on, and you feel like tumbling into darkness.

Sukuna is going to run, isn't he? Of course, he's going to leave! Of course, a guy like him is only interested in having fun but no responsibility! Of course, he will always stay the bad boy who just likes to party and fuck and do whatever the hell he wants! And a pregnant girlfriend is the last thing he needs!

Your hands ball into fists. You're about to scream at him or cry or break down.

But before you can do any of that, Sukuna stops in the doorway.

He is standing there with his back to you, so tall that his hair is almost brushing against the doorframe. You watch him fumble ungracefully with his cigarettes in a way that is completely untypical for him, nearly dropping the pack and needing several tries to light a cigarette before he brings it to his lips with a shaky hand and takes a deep drag.

You let out a slow breath, slumping back against the couch.

He didn't leave.

Sukuna turns his head slowly to look at you over his broad shoulder. Suddenly, his eyes widen, and he bangs the door shut and quickly strides back to the small living area, bending down to hastily stub his cigarette out in the ashtray on the couch table.

"Shit, I forgot that I shouldn't smoke when you are...," he stops mid-sentence, and his eyes wander to your belly, "when you are... ah fuck..."

Sukuna runs a trembling, tattooed hand through his pink hair. You both stare at each other for a long moment, both unable to say the words out loud. But your mind screams them at you:

Pregnant. You are pregnant with Sukuna's baby!

You have no idea how it even happened. Were Sukuna and you not careful enough? Maybe too horny and too drunk after one of the various parties you went to? Did a condom rip, and you didn't realize it? Maybe if it was any other month, things would have gone differently, but you had exams and were in a constant state of stress. You simply didn't have the mind to worry about anything else but studying and then fucking like bunnies for stress relief!

You feel so stupid. You were always so sure that something like this would never happen to you. An accidental pregnancy was something that only happened to those girls in those trashy reality TV shows!

Well, now look at you.

Pregnant from your college sweetheart, the bad boy with the face tattoos. The guy you are head over heels in love with but who you didn't even dare bring home to your parents yet because they took one look at a picture of the two of you, saw Sukuna's tattooed face and his pink hair, and deemed him a troublemaker who will only drag their sweet daughter into the gutter with him. And now he even managed to accidentally knock you up, and it will just be the cherry on top!

Finally, the tears spill over, and a sob escapes your trembling lips. Instinctively, you hug yourself, but your arms get pushed away just a second later, when Sukuna is pulling you to your feet and into his strong, tattooed arms, pulling you against him, holding you so tight you find it hard to breathe.

His lips press against your forehead, leaving little kisses and murmuring against your skin,

"I am sorry for almost running out that door like a fucking coward. I'm sorry, baby."

"It's ok, Kuna. You stopped and came back. That's what counts. But... I... I am so scared."

You sniffle and press yourself against Sukuna's tall, muscular body, seeking the comfort of his broad chest and his strong arms, which feel like home, letting your tears soak Sukuna's t-shirt that smells like him, like cigarette smoke and cherry blossoms and his typical sexy cologne.

Sukuna's arms tighten around you, and he makes a choked-up sound that you have never heard from him before. You feel him gulp hard, and then he speaks up in that low, velvety voice that sounds so much more serious than ever before,

"I promise I won't run. We're in this together. I got scared, too, because I am not the dad type of guy. I don't even have any idea how a dad is supposed to be because I've never had one. I mean, fuck! I am a mess! I don't even know what I want apart from living in the moment, having fun, being with you, and spending time with my brother. But you're my girl, and I'll be damned if I leave you alone with this! I won't run, princess, I promise."

You hear a strange noise, only to realize that it is coming from your own mouth, a strangled sob. You snuggle closer against Sukuna's chest, hiding your face in his t-shirt, clinging desperately to him, overwhelmed with the situation. But he is there for you. He rests his chin on top of your head and holds you, swaying you slightly from side to side.

His low voice is calm when he asks,

"Do you want to keep it?"

"I... I didn't even have the right mind to think about it yet."

Sukuna nods, and his arms tighten around you,

"It's ok. Take your time. If you want to get rid of it, then I will drive you to the hospital and take care of you afterward. And if you decide to have the baby... then I will be a dad. I never imagined myself with a kid, but this is different. This is our baby. And I know what it's like to grow up without parents. I don't want that for my child. My grandpa did a pretty good job with Yuuji and me before he became sick, but it's not the same as having a mom and a dad, I think. I won't let that happen to our kid."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a huge weight leave your shoulders at Sukuna's reassurance. You can see things a bit clearer now. And maybe it's not as hopeless as you thought.

Technically, you are old enough to be a mom, and you could just pause your studies for a semester or two and then return to your classes. Of course, things won't be as carefree anymore, and you will have a huge responsibility. On top of that, you really have no idea what life with a baby will be like. But you know now that you won't be alone with it.

You will have the boy you love by your side. No, you correct yourself, not the boy you love, but the man you love. Because the way Sukuna reacted so maturely and responsibly showed you that he isn't a boy anymore. He is a man. Your man. And you are even beginning to be able to imagine him as a dad. He is doing a pretty decent job as Yuuji's brother, too, after all, isn't he? Sure, Yuuji is the same age as Sukuna, but Sukuna still always acts like the big brother. So protective and caring, in a grumpy way, but sweet nonetheless.

Suddenly, the thought of a miniature version of Sukuna running around doesn't seem so scary anymore. You catch yourself wondering what your baby would look like if you decide to have it. Will it have Sukuna's eyes?

You lift your head to look up at him, and Sukuna's gaze meets yours. He looks deeply into your eyes, almost making you nervous with how intense those beautiful maroon eyes look at you,

"If you want to keep it, I will make damn sure you and the kid have it good. I promise you, princess. I am not going to run like some loser. I will learn everything about taking care of a child and how to be a dad and get my shit together. I will even stop smoking. I just... I love you, and this will be our little family, and I will fucking protect it with my life! We will make this work. We can move in together. We can ask Yuuji to babysit, and I can take the little gremlin to classes with me. I had someone do that in my history class, you know? Had his ugly little brat in a baby carrier. I could do that, too. Only difference is that our baby will be super pretty, of course."

You chuckle softly despite the shock, a mix of a sob and a laugh, feeling lighter now that you know your boyfriend will be there for you.

"I love you too, Sukuna. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. We will get through this together, no matter what you decide."

You snuggle against Sukuna's tall, muscular body and smile shakily up at him, sure that your pupils must have transformed into little hearts from the way your chest feels as if it's overflowing with love for your boyfriend. Your arrogant, rude, bad boy of a boyfriend, who, deep down, is such a good guy for the people he loves.

You smile and get on your tiptoes to press a kiss to Sukuna's tattooed jaw, a tender lingering touch, before you tell him softly,

"Let's sleep over it for a night or two, and then we'll decide what to do. But either way, I want you to know that you sound like you would be an amazing dad. I guess having your baby would be quite nice."

You can see Sukuna's gaze soften, and then he smirks that attractive smirk at you and pulls you even closer against him, leaning down so his lips brush over yours when he says,

"Let's see if you will still say that when the little brat turns out to be anything like me. I wasn't an easy child."

And you laugh and reach up to ruffle Sukuna's pink hair affectionately, tangling your fingers in the soft, pink strands,

"Well, how lucky that I have you by my side to look after Sukuna Number 2 then."

You feel Sukuna grin against your lips, and then he kisses you, slow and tender, and you practically melt against him.

You are still nervous but not as scared anymore. Sukuna is right: You are going to do this together. No matter what, you have Sukuna by your side. And, even though he doesn't look like it, your bad boy is actually a good man.

And maybe your decision is already made because the mental image of Sukuna going to class with a baby carrier strapped to his broad chest just won't leave your mind anymore.

SIGHHHHHH I think I would want his baby 😭

Thank you so much for reading! I love the mess that CollegeBoy!Sukuna is. He is very dear to me 💗 I am so proud of him for being so mature about this!! A good man and a good soon-to-be daddy.

In my head, I was singing "Papa, don't preach" the whole time while writing this ;)

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

Update: Part 2 Option A (Reader has an abortion) Part 2 Option B (Reader decides to have the baby)

[shy2-29]

Faking It ♡ l.hs [m]

⋆ pairing: lee heeseung x reader

⋆ wc: 12.5k

⋆ synopsis: You had never liked Heeseung, and he had never liked you either. Over the three years, both you and Heeseung had become the most popular student in the university. You barely spoke to each other, just exchanged the occasional spiteful look in the hallways. You had sworn never to speak to Heeseung again—until one day, he unexpectedly asked you to be his fake girlfriend.

⋆ warning: not proof read, vomiting, public humiliation, fingering, p in v, pet names, unprotected sex, nipple play, bullying, teasing, name calling, fake dating, kissing, harsh language, swearing, spitting, choking, crying, lmk if I missed anything!

18+ mdni | masterlist

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You had never liked Heeseung, and he had never liked you either. It all began when you were both freshmen in university and were invited to a spring break party at a frat house. After consuming almost 6 shots of alcohol, you felt dizzy and rushed to the bathroom to vomit. Unintentionally, you left the door slightly open, and Heeseung, recording the entire incident, uploaded it to his social media account, which nearly all of your school followed.

"excuse me, what?!” you exclaimed in disbelief. As a new school year started, it marked your third year in university. You were on your way to your lockers to grab your belongings when Heeseung suddenly appeared, nonchalantly leaning against the lockers, resembling the stereotypical high school crush.

He simply folded his arms against his chest and repeated the question bluntly, “Be my fake girlfriend for the entire semester.” No ‘please’ or anything, just a short and direct order. Even you had to admit he was extremely hot—black hair, sharp and distinct features, muscular figure—but you definitely hated that attractive face of his due to the incident.

You crossed your arms and gave Heeseung a once-over, adopting a contemplative expression. "Why do you need a fake girlfriend?" you repeated, your tone laced with skepticism.

“Simple.” He simply shrugged as he pushed himself off from the locker and took a couple of steps towards you, closing the distance between you two. He leaned down slightly so his eyes were leveled with yours, “I’m sick and tired of my parents asking if I have a girlfriend. It’s exhausting lying to them all the time so I need someone to pretend to be my girlfriend for a few months, and they just happen to fall for you.” He spoke with as if you were nothing more than a mere tool.

"Why not tell them you're too busy with your studies?" you quipped, followed by a sarcastic chuckle. "Oh wait, I nearly forgot—you've been suspended twice! Who would believe you're too swamped with academics?”

He rolled his eyes at your comment and continued talking, his voice laced with annoyance, “My parents don’t care about my education. They only care about my reputation and what others think of me because they’re so damn arrogant and stuck-up. In their eyes, a good reputation requires a girlfriend, and that’s all they care about when it comes to me.” He was starting to sound frustrated, but not because of you, just his parents.

You scoffed at his response, rolling your eyes in disbelief. "Do you honestly think I'm going to agree to be your fake girlfriend after that humiliating video you recorded and posted of me?"

“Ah, yes. That.” He let out a short, cynical chuckle as he ran a hand through his ebony hair. “I completely forgot about that.” Bullshit, you thought. “Listen, all I’m asking for is that you be my fake girlfriend. It’s not like I’m asking you to really date me. It’ll literally just be a few months.”

You gestured towards a group of girls nearby, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. "Why not ask one of those girls over there? I'm certain a bunch of them would be absolutely thrilled to have you merely glance in their direction."

He glanced over to the group of girls that you were gesturing to, and in all honesty, you were probably right. They always swooned over him whenever he passed them. Any of them would be dying to be Heeseung’s girlfriend, fake or not. But he looked back at you, a hint of annoyance in his eyes, “There’s a reason I asked you and not them.”

“I have a type and none of them matches it.” Heeseung stepped even closer to you so your bodies were almost touching. He tilted his head as scanned you up and down while speaking, “You’re pretty, smart enough. And no offense, you’re not the most popular girl here, but you’re certainly not unpopular.”

"So, you're saying you have a crush on me?" you teased, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips.

He rolled his eyes once again, “No, don’t flatter yourself, y/n. As I said, you’re just my type.” His hot, breath was now fanning over your neck and he was close enough that you could smell the scent of his cologne, a mix of musk and sandalwood, surrounding the air.

“No”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no”

Now, it was his turn to roll his eyes. He scoffed in disbelief, “You’re rejecting me? You honestly think you’re in the position to reject me?”

You feigned fear, mockingly exclaiming, "Stop, im shaking!" Then, you added with a scoff, "Oh, wait, let me guess—no one has ever turned you down, right?"

You were spot on. No one has ever rejected Heeseung before, nor do people ever dare to. Girls are always chasing after him, and boys are either jealous of him or intimidated by him. He’s never heard the word ‘no’ before, but hearing it now from your mouth was quite intriguing and somewhat entertaining.

“Not a single one.” He responded with a small smirk, his eyes flickering to your lips. He was now extremely close to you, the distance between you was only a couple inches away now. “No one’s ever rejected me before, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything, huh?” he teased.

"Just leave me alone, Heeseung," you mutter, slamming your locker shut and stalking away, your irritation evident.

He easily caught up to you and placed his hand on your shoulder, spinning you around to face him. “What? The great y/n is already giving up?” He leaned in closer. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight.” His grip on your shoulder tightened, but not enough to hurt you.

“I won’t ask again,” He began whispering in your ear, “Be my fake girlfriend for a semester, and I’ll never bother you again for the rest of our lives.” He was now pressed against you slightly, pinning you against the lockers and trapping you.

"What's in it for me?" you countered, locking eyes with him. "And don't say 'I'll never bother you for the rest of our lives.' That doesn't interest me."

A hint of amusement flashed in his eyes at your reply and he chuckled, “Always the smartass, aren’t you?” He leaned down, his breath fanning over your face, and he tilted your chin up so you were looking at him directly. “Name your terms then.”

You pretended to ponder, tapping your finger against your chin, and then declared, "A shiny new MacBook Pro would be pretty nice."

He raised his eyebrows in slight surprise, he didn’t expect you to ask for an item so quickly. He had thought you'd ask for money. “A MacBook?” he questioned before a small smirk spread across his face, “That’s all you want?”

"Oh, and a brand-new car would be great. A Tesla, maybe?"

A look of utter disbelief briefly crossed his face, “Are you just naming out expensive things in hopes that I’ll give in?”

"I mean, you're loaded, aren't you, Lee Heeseung?" you pointed out.

He had to admit you weren’t wrong. The Lee family was extremely wealthy—a huge estate worth millions with a large family business that brought in thousands a day, all passed down from generation to generation. “True. But don’t you think you’re aiming a bit too high here?”

You folded your arms across your chest and chimed in a sing-song tone, "Well, looks like you won't be getting a fake girlfriend after all~"

He let out a sigh, feeling slightly aggravated. Part of him had to admit, he liked your stubbornness. It didn’t come as a surprise though, you had always been the one person who wasn’t afraid of him. He had to take you seriously now though. “Okay. I’ll buy you a new MacBook pro and a Tesla. In return, you have to be my fake girlfriend for the whole semester. Deal?”

Your eyes widened, taken aback by his unexpected acceptance. "W-Wait, are you serious?"

“Does a deal mean I’m not serious?” he said, a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice. “Yes, I’m serious.” his intense gaze met yours once again, “It’s a yes or no you dumb fuck.”

"Deal!" you responded enthusiastically, extending an open hand towards him for a handshake.

He chuckled, finding your eagerness amusing. He took your outstretched hand and gave it a firm shake, sealing the deal with a smirk on his face. "Then it's official, you're now my fake girlfriend."

—

The following day, while at school, you received a text from Heeseung, asking to meet at the library after classes to discuss the details of this agreement. You readily agreed, tucking your phone away and making your way to class. Sure, enduring time with Heeseung, let alone pretending to love him would annoy the living fuck out of you, but hey, you were at least getting something out of the arrangement.

He was already in the library by the time you arrived, sitting in a secluded corner away from the rest of students. He glanced up as soon as you approached the table he was sitting at. "Sit." he commanded, gesturing to the chair across from him.

He leaned back in his chair, one arm resting on the back of the chair and the other on his knee. He studied you closely, taking in your every trait. “I have a few rules for this fake dating thing.” he finally spoke, his tone authoritative.

You let out an exaggerated eye roll and placed your arms on the table, leaning forward. "Do tell?”

“First rule: we have to do everything any real couple does in public. Holding hands, going on dates in public, the whole thing.” he spoke, his voice firm, “You’re my fake girlfriend now, so you can’t just sit there with that shitty look on your face when I’m around you. No one can suspect a thing. Understood?”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow and questioned pointedly, "I thought this fake girlfriend deal is just about appeasing your parents. Why do we have to act like we’re together outside of your house too? Won’t they think it’s odd we’re suddenly together? I’m pretty sure the whole school knows we hate each other by now.”

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing.” Heeseung replied, shooting you an irritated look. “Parents who’re too stuck-up and obsessed with their reputation like mine love seeing couples acting affectionate. Plus, we need the whole school to start seeing us as a real couple, not just my parents. It’ll be more believable that way.”

You tilted your head in bewilderment and inquired, "And what are you going to say when people approach us, curious about our 'relationship'?"

“We’ll just tell them the truth. That we started talking to each other at some point and found out that we weren’t as different from each other as we'd thought.” he spoke with a nonchalant tone. “But of course, I’ll have to make up a story of how I confessed and how we got together, but other than that, it’s pretty much believable.”

You hesitantly continued, your gaze shifting to his fiddling hands and the pen. "And... what about things like kissing, pet names, and all those things... how are we going to handle those?" You spoke in a sheepish tone, a hint of excitement and nervousness evident in your voice.

He smirked slightly at your flustered expression and leaned back in his chair again, one arm placed back on the back of his chair. “I don’t care what kind of pet names you call me, but I don’t want you to call me my actual name. And for kissing…” he spoke quietly, “if I have to kiss you to make all this believable, so be it.”

You let out a sigh, mentally preparing to navigate the next three months with a fake boyfriend. This was going to be... interesting, to say the least.

“There’s one more rule.” he spoke, his gaze now flickering to yours again. “During the three months of this deal, you belong to me. Meaning: no dating, no relationships, no going on dates with someone else. You’re mine now, you got that?”

His words struck a chord within you, causing your heart to skip a beat. Yet, you quickly reminded yourself, *No, y/n, snap out of it. You despise him, and he feels the same about you*. You reluctantly agreed, albeit with a protesting groan, and sunk into the couch.

He suppressed a smug smirk upon seeing your reaction to his words. Despite your protests and eye-rolls, he could see the way you tensed up when he spoke those words. He wasn’t an idiot, he could tell, the effect he had on you, whether you were willing to admit it or not.

—

You had just walked into the school building and instantly, you heard the whispers and murmurs among the students as you made your way to your locker. It was like time had slowed down and every eye in the hallway was on you.

“Is that y/n?” one boy whispered to his friend.

“Damn, she looks pretty today.”

“But why does it look like she’s in a bad mood?” another boy spoke quietly.

Meanwhile, Heeseung was leaning against the lockers at the end of the hall, flanked by his two best friends, Jake and Sunghoon. They were having a conversation when Sunghoon’s eyes suddenly fixated on you, as you walked towards your locker. He nudged Heeseung's arm with his elbow, pointing at you.

“Hey, look,” Sunghoon whispered. “Isn’t that y/n?”

Heeseung’s eyes flickered over to the direction Sunghoon was looking at and he nodded. “Yeah, it’s her. She looks pretty today, huh?” a small smirk spread across his face as he watched from afar.

“What are you guys looking at?” Jake spoke up, craning his neck to see what had grabbed Heeseung and Sunghoon’s attention.

Sunghoon tilted his head towards you. “Just our little y/n over there, trying to play it cool but she looks pretty annoyed.”

Jake let out a small chuckle. “She always looks annoyed these days.”

“I mean, can you blame her?” Sunghoon asked, “She always looks like she wants to murder someone.”

Jake chuckled and nodded. “Agreed. She’s just naturally bitchy, I guess.”

Heeseung, however, was still quietly watching you. His eyes never left your figure as you continued on to your locker and began to open it.

“She's hot though.” Jake commented. “I'd ask her out if it didn't seem like she'd tear my head off.”

Sunghoon laughed. “She's out of your league anyways, man.” he teased.

Jake rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want,” he replied, jokingly punching Sunghoon’s arm. “I know she’s out of *both* our leagues.”

“Is there even any guy that she likes?” Sunghoon wondered aloud. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen her hanging out with a guy.”

Heeseung's gaze flicked over to Sunghoon at the question, a small knowing smirk playing at his lips.

Jake looked over at Heeseung. “What about you?”

Heeseung’s smirk grew slightly at the question and he shrugged nonchalantly. “What about me?” he replied, his tone nonchalant.

Jake’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you like her.” he said in disbelief.

“I never said I did,” replied Heeseung, still maintaining his casual demeanor.

Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You didn’t deny it either though…” he pointed out, giving Heeseung a look.

“You know me better than that, don’t you?” Heeseung said, shooting Sunghoon a mocking look and rolling his eyes. “Yeah, sure, she’s got a nice body and she’s pretty, but she’s got the personality of a cactus. I’m not *that* masochistic.”

Sunghoon and Jake both chuckled at his response.

“Damn, man, that was a good one.” Sunghoon commented, lightly slapping Heeseung’s shoulder. “You’re right though, she’s probably not worth the headache.”

Heeseung pushed himself off of the locker he was leaning against and took a step forward, still keeping his eyes on you. “You know, there’s actually something I wanted to tell you two.” he spoke casually.

Sunghoon and Jake exchanged a curious glance before looking back at Heeseung. “What is it?” Sunghoon inquired.

Heeseung shifted his stance, his hands now in the pockets of his pants. “Well, I’ve been seeing y/n.” he replied, a small smirk dancing on his lips.

Jake’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, what?” he exclaimed, clearly not expecting that answer.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, let out a scoff of disbelief. “You’re joking, right? There’s no way you and her are a thing. She hates your guts!”

Heeseung chuckled at Sunghoon's reaction. “I’m dead serious, though.”

Jake still looked like he was processing the information. “But..how is that even possible? You guys have hated each other for three years now!”

“Things change, I guess…” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “We actually started talking a few weeks back and… well, started spending more time together. She’s not as bitchy as I thought she’d be.” he added, a smirk on his face.

Out of the blue, the question left Jake's lips, curiosity getting the better of him. "Have you guys... you know, fucked?"

Sunghoon burst out laughing and playfully slapped Jake on the back of the head. “Don’t ask him that, man!”

Heeseung rolled his eyes at Jake’s question, but a small smirk tugged at his lips nonetheless. “What, you want details?” he teased.

Jake’s expression turned sheepish. “No, no, I was just wondering.” he quickly retorted, his cheeks turning a hint of pink. “It’s just…I never thought something like that would actually happen between you two.”

“Yeah well, it did...” Heeseung replied, his smirk growing into a full-on grin. “And just wait until you see how different she is when it’s just the two of us.” he added, the hint of pride evident in his tone.

Heeseung fished out his phone from his pocket and typed a quick message to you, sending it off.

*‘Meet me in the janitor’s closet on the third floor during lunch. I need to talk to you.’*

As he put his phone back in his pocket, Sunghoon noticed the screen and raised an eyebrow. “Texting y/n?” he asked, with a mocking tone.

Heeseung rolled his eyes again. “You’re damn observant, aren’t you?” he retorted sarcastically. “Yeah, just asked her to meet me later during lunch.”

Jake, never one to back down from teasing his friend, proposed, "Why don't you bring her to eat with us? We want to get to know your 'girlfriend' better, at least that's what you're telling us... But let's be real, no one truly believes that you two are actually together." Sunghoon, equally skeptical as Jake, nodded in agreement.

Everyone was well aware of the animosity between the two popular students, Heeseung and y/n. Jake's and Sunghoon's doubts about their supposed relationship echoed what many others had assumed.

Heeseung rolled his eyes at both of their teasing comments. “Alright, alright, settle down.” he replied, a small smirk on his face. “I’ll ask her, but I can’t promise what her reaction will be.”

You responded firmly, steadfast in your refusal. "Absolutely not," you shook your head vehemently, your expression reflecting your firm rejection. "I'm already enduring the farce of pretending to like you, and there's no chance I'm subjecting myself to lunch with you, let alone two others who are practically copy and pastes of you!"

Heeseung let out an exaggerated sigh, feigning disappointment. “Aww, come on, you’re no fun.” he replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You’re gonna have to meet them eventually, so you may as well do it sooner rather than later.”

Heeseung watched as you began to protest and couldn’t help but smile to himself at your stubbornness. “Come on, it’s just lunch. I’m sure you can handle it.” he persuaded, taking a step closer to you.

You internally grappled with the idea. It's just three more months, you told yourself. Can I really endure him? With a reluctant sigh, you finally relented, "Fine, I suppose it won’t be too bad."

Heeseung hid a triumphant smirk as he heard you finally cave. “That’s my girl.” he teased, stepping forward again and gently lifting your chin with his index finger.

Your body involuntarily tensed up as the sound of his voice echoed in your mind. "That's my girl…" The phrase played on a loop, causing a ripple of unease to ripple through you as you trailed alongside Heeseung towards the table where his friends awaited.

Jake and Sunghoon, who were still sitting at the table, looked up as the two of you approached. Jake’s eyes widened with surprise as he actually saw you walking next to Heeseung, while Sunghoon simply raised an eyebrow skeptically, silently questioning if the sight was real.

Heeseung placed his hand on the small of your back as you approached the table, a smirk on his face. “y/n, meet Sunghoon and Jake. Sunghoon, Jake, y/n.” he said casually, pulling out a chair for you to sit.

Sunghoon and Jake could only stare up at you, still trying to process the fact that Heeseung’s supposed ‘girlfriend’ was actually here and sitting right in front of them. Jake’s mouth was hung open slightly and Sunghoon just silently studied your features.

Heeseung noticed the boys’ awestruck expressions and let out a low chuckle, pushing your chair in as you sat. “Boys, quit staring like that. You’re making her uncomfortable.” he teased, taking a seat next to you.

Heeseung's attempt at making it seem like he cared fell flat, met with your sharp retort. "It's alright, Heeseung," you bit back, irritation lacing your words. "Save your pity, I don't need it." The tension between you two was palpable, and it was undeniable to anyone observing the situation.

Heeseung let out a scoff at the sharpness in your tone, an annoyed smile on his face. He reached beneath the table and placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly, a silent warning for you to keep up the act.

Sunghoon and Jake noticed the subtle interaction between the two of you and exchanged a glance. Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed as he watched Heeseung’s hand rest on your thigh, while a smirk tugged at Jake’s lips.

“Are you sure this isn’t just some elaborate prank?” Sunghoon finally spoke up, his eyes still fixed on Heeseung’s hand on your thigh.

Heeseung chuckled in response, his hand squeezing your thigh once more in warning. “I can assure you, this is real.” he replied, his eyes challenging Sunghoon to question him further.

Jake’s smirk grew wider at Heeseung’s response and he leaned forward slightly. “But the real question is, how’d you manage to pull *her* of all people?” he asked, referring to you with a nod of his head.

"I'm not some toy you can toss around." Your words were sharp and biting, a steely edge to your voice as you fixed a defiant glare on Jake. "I have my own mind, my own thoughts and feelings. I'm not some plaything for you to manipulate."

Heeseung’s grip on your thigh tightened slightly in warning, but his smile never wavered. “Damn, you’re feisty. I like it.” he commented casually, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You internally seethed, feeling the weight of the situation settling upon you. Could you truly maintain this act for three months, with everyone watching? Yes, you'd harbored a secret crush on Heeseung before the whole fiasco with the vomiting video, and seeing him present a facade of affection towards you now only made you feel like gagging.

Sunghoon noticed the tension between the two of you yet again and chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head. “I still don’t believe it.” he commented, the skepticism obvious in his tone.

Heeseung rolled his eyes in response to Sunghoon, his hand still resting on your thigh. “I already told you, it’s real. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.” he replied, his gaze challenging Sunghoon to dispute his words.

“Sit here y/n,” Heeseung said, a commanding gesture. Heeseung patted his lap and motioned for you to take a seat on it. Seemingly unfazed by the fact that it was in the middle of the school day and they had an audience in the form of his friends.

Your eyes widened slightly at his direct instruction, your mind racing with thoughts of how ridiculous the situation was. Did he really expect you to just sit on his lap like it was normal?

Sunghoon and Jake, on the other hand, watched eagerly, expecting you to refuse the demeaning act.

Heeseung’s smirk grew wider as he saw your eyes widen, a silent challenge in them as he patted his lap once more. “Come on, it’s not that difficult. Just sit like the good girl you are.” he urged casually, as if it was completely normal for someone like you to sit in his lap.

Jake and Sunghoon couldn’t hold back their laughter any longer and broke into a fit of chuckles. “Yeah, come on, good girl.” Jake mocked, clearly enjoying seeing you squirm under Heeseung’s command.

You reluctantly rose to your feet, shooting Jake a withering glare before complying. You perched yourself awkwardly on Heeseung's lap, your expression a mixture of resignation and annoyance, silently praying that this moment would pass quickly.

Heeseung, however, didn't miss the silent pleading in your eyes. As soon as you sat down, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer, his grip just a little tighter than was necessary.

Jake's chuckle turned into a genuine laugh as he saw the way Heeseung manhandled you into sitting on his lap. "Damn, she really is your good girl, huh?" he teased.

Heeseung shot Jake a warning glare, not appreciating his taunting tone. "Shut it." he replied, his voice stern. But a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he pulled you even closer, his hand resting on your hip.

Sunghoon, who had been quietly observant during the whole scene, rolled his eyes at Heeseung's display. "Possessive, much?" he muttered under his breath, but not quietly enough for you to miss the comment.

Heeseung's eyes narrowed at Sunghoon's snide remark, but he didn't respond. Instead, he slid his hand slightly higher up your thigh, his touch deliberate and possessive.

Before you could stand up, Heeseung's firm grip on your waist halted your movements. He issued a direct statement, "Let's skip class." Your eyes widened in disbelief, the words ringing in your ears. "Skip class?" you echoed, shocked at the audacity of his suggestion.

Heeseung just smirked in response, his demeanor unapologetic. "Yeah, skip class. I want to spend some time alone with my *girlfriend*." he retorted arrogantly, the word 'girlfriend' dripping with sarcasm.

Heeseung, surprised, suggested skipping class, and you admitted, "I've never done that before." The thought of ditching school alarmed you, as it was a departure from your usual disciplined routine.

Heeseung chuckled at your confession, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Never? Really?" he teased, his hand still resting on your thigh. "You're missing out, it's freeing. Come on, live a little."

With a sarcastic tone, you retorted, "And yet you act like a high school dropout," before reluctantly agreeing to skip class for the remainder of the day.

Heeseung rolled his eyes at your sarcastic remark but didn’t deny it. “Damn, you’re a smartass.” he chuckled, amused by your attitude. “I can’t wait to have you to myself for the rest of the day.”

He glanced over to Sunghoon and Jake, who were watching the interaction intently. "We're skipping the rest of the day. Don't try to stop us." he informed them, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jake smirked and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Damn, you’re really getting serious. Go have your alone time with her.” he jeered, clearly enjoying seeing Heeseung so possessive over you.

Sunghoon just rolled his eyes, but wisely didn't comment on the situation. He just observed silently, his eyes flickering between you and Heeseung, studying your every move.

Heeseung just chuckled in response to Jake’s comment before turning his attention back to you. "Let's go." he said, gently squeezing your thigh before patting it, signaling for you to stand up.

You reluctantly obeyed, standing up from his lap and silently vowing to stay as far away from him as possible. Heeseung rose from his seat, grabbing his bag in the process, and made his way over to you. Without warning, he slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side.

Jake and Sunghoon chuckled again at his possessive gesture, clearly enjoying the show. “You two lovebirds have fun.” Jake called out with a smirk.

Heeseung just rolled his eyes at Jake’s comment and led you towards the exit, his arm still firmly around your shoulders. As you both left the cafeteria, he pulled you a little closer and whispered in your ear, “Don’t you dare try to run off on me.”

You gritted your teeth at his warning but didn’t respond, knowing that it would only lead to more trouble. You allowed him to guide you out of the school building, your thoughts racing with a million different escape plans.

Once you both were outside, Heeseung turned to you, a smirk on his face. “Now, I have a proposal for you. We have several options for how to spend the rest of the day, but I’ll let you choose.”

He paused for a moment, studying you silently, before continuing. “We can go get some food, maybe do a little shopping, or…” he trailed off, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “We can do whatever you want. But on one condition.”

You raised an eyebrow, silently bracing yourself for whatever condition he was about to set. “What is it?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He chuckled at your cautious tone before stepping closer, his hand moving to rest on your hip. “All I want is your undivided attention. No trying to run away or ignoring me. You’ll have to stick with me for the rest of the day and do whatever I say.” he replied, his voice dripping with authority.

You agreed, albeit hesitantly, with a slow nod. "Alright, I suppose I can do that..." you murmured, before changing the subject. "Speaking of which, when are we supposed to meet your parents? This whole fake dating charade is meant to convince them that you're in a relationship, right?"

Heeseung chuckled and nodded at your question. "Yeah, you're right. We'll have to convince my parents at some point. But don’t worry, we have some time before that. They’re away on a business trip right now, so we don’t need to worry about them just yet."

Surprise washed over you at Heeseung's revelation. "Business trip?!" you exclaimed. "Then why are we going through the motions of being all lovey-dovey if your parents are out of town for business?"

Heeseung smirked at your outburst before answering your question. "Because, my dear fake girlfriend, it's better to start early." he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "We can’t just suddenly be all lovey-dovey once they come back. We need to make it believable."

Internalized frustration simmered within you as you emitted a sigh of resignation. "I just want to go home," you confessed, your weariness evident in your exhausted tone.

Heeseung chuckled, clearly amused by your predicament. "Ah-ah, no going home. You agreed to spend the rest of the day with me, remember?" he reminded you, his hand gripping your hip a little tighter.

A mumbled invitation escaped your lips, "You can come over, I suppose..." Though your words were delivered indifferently, a hint of reluctance crept into your tone.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow at the half-hearted invitation, a smirk plastered on his face. "Oh? You're actually letting me come over? I almost feel special." he teased, a hint of mockery in his voice.

He took a small step closer to you, his grip on your hip still firm. "But I get to decide what we do at your place, got it? No arguments, no complaints. You'll be a good girl and do as I say." he told you, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Heeseung’s smirk only grew wider as he saw the resignation etched on your face. He knew you didn’t want him anywhere near your home, but you didn’t have a choice. "Great, then it’s decided. We’re going to your place." he stated before grabbing your hand and pulling you along.

As you guys walked to your home, Heeseung occasionally glanced over at you. Your expression was a mixture of resignation and annoyance, and he couldn’t help but find it amusing. He found it hilariously ironic that the person he had always hated was now stuck with him for the rest of the day.

Once they arrived at your house, Heeseung immediately made himself at home. He kicked off his shoes and made his way to the living room, flopping down on the couch with a sense of entitlement. He patted the spot next to him, signaling for you to join him.

Annoyance flickered across your face as you observed his lackadaisical approach to removing his shoes. Irritated, you placed his shoes neatly by the entrance before proceeding to take off your own.

Heeseung had been watching you as you took off your shoes, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at your particularity. “Ever the neat freak, huh?” he teased, a smirk on his face.

He patted the spot next to him again, his smirk never faltering. “Come on, sit down. I don’t bite.” he quipped, clearly enjoying seeing you out of your comfort zone.

You hesitantly made your way towards the couch and sat down next to him, making sure to keep a respectable distance. Heeseung just chuckled at your attempt to maintain space and grabbed your arm, pulling you closer until you were flush against his side.

"Ah-ah, no escaping from me now." he teased, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, trapping you against him. He leaned back against the couch, clearly satisfied with your discomfort.

"Now, since we have a few hours to kill, I have a few ideas on how we can spend our time." he said, his hand idly stroking your shoulder.

Frustration crept into your voice as you snapped at him, your cheeks tinged with red. "Enough, already!" you exclaimed. "There's no one around; you don't need to keep up the act."

Heeseung just chuckled at your outburst, his smirk growing wider. "Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he taunted, his hand moving up to gently caress your cheek. "Besides, I like seeing you all flustered and uncomfortable."

He leaned closer, his breath fanning against your ear. "And who knows, maybe I just enjoy having you this close to me." he teased, his tone low and sultry.

His hand moved from your cheek to your hair, gently twirling a strand between his fingers. "You know, you're actually quite cute when you're all annoyed like this." he whispered, his voice laced with amusement.

He sat back against the couch, pulling you with him so you were practically laying on his chest. "But don't worry, we have the whole day to spend together. We'll have plenty of opportunities for me to drive you crazy."

Heeseung's hand continued to caress your hair, his touch strangely soothing. For a moment, he seemed almost gentle, his arrogance temporarily replaced by this unexpected tenderness.

But the moment was short-lived as his smirk returned, his voice dripping with arrogance again. "So, how about we watch a movie or something? I’m sure there's something on TV that'll keep us entertained for a bit."

He reached for the remote and flicked through the channels, eventually landing on a romantic comedy. He glanced down at you with a smirk. "King the land sounds good huh?."

As the movie played, Heeseung's hand never left your hair. He continued to absently toy with the strands, his attention half on the movie and half on teasing you.

Every now and then, he would drop a sarcastic comment about the movie, or make a snide remark about how the couple on screen reminded him of you and him. His touch remained light and almost comforting, a stark contrast to his usual obnoxious demeanor.

A mischievous smirk tugged at the corners of Heeseung's lips as he observed a scene playing out on the TV. "You know," he remarked, a hint of humor in his voice, "that actress kinda looks like you."

He glanced down at you, his hand still lazily caressing your hair. "Don’t worry, you're much cuter than her." he teased, a smirk still playing on his lips.

The situation was becoming unbearable. You reached your limit; you couldn't continue pretending to love him and enduring his touch. Frustration boiled over, and you abruptly stood up, your emotions taking control.

Heeseung's smirk faltered for a moment as you suddenly stood up. He hadn't expected such a sudden outburst from you. He leaned back on the couch, his head tilted to the side as he regarded you with intrigue.

The words erupted from you, a mix of anger and resignation. "I can't do this anymore!" you exclaimed, your hands clenching into tight fists as frustration surged through you. "The deal's off. It's over."

Heeseung's amused expression faded, replaced by a brief flicker of surprise. He had not expected you to concede so easily. He sat up on the couch, his eyes never leaving your face as he studied you silently.

Heeseung's surprise quickly turned into a smug grin, his arrogance fully returning. He stood up from the couch, casually making his way towards you. "Oh, come on now. You’re just giving up so easily? Where's the fight in you?”

Your true feelings finally burst forth, the pent-up emotions overflowing. "I just can't keep up this act anymore!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with frustration. "Spending the entire day pretending that I don't loathe every second of being around you... it's too much!"

Heeseung chuckled, his arms now crossed lazily across his chest as he leaned back on the couch. "Loathe every second, huh?" he remarked, his voice dripping with smugness. "I can't say I'm surprised, considering how much you've always hated me."

A sarcastic scoff escaped your lips as you crossed your arms, a defiant look in your eyes. "Please, enlighten me, Heeseung," you retorted, your voice laced with irritation. "Why do you think I despise you so deeply?"

Heeseung's smirk widened as he reveled in your irritation. He chuckled softly before responding, his voice dripping with nonchalance. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because I uploaded that embarrassing video of you puking your brains out at that frat party back in our freshman year."

"That's exactly what I want to know!" you shot back, your anger and hurt seething beneath the surface. "What made you humiliate me that day? What prompted you to upload that video for everyone to see?"

Heeseung shrugged, his expression unrepentant. "It was just a silly prank, that’s all." he replied nonchalantly. "I didn’t think you’d take it so personally."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, and you stepped back, creating a physical distance between you and him. "Wow," you said, shaking your head in disbelief. "You really are a heartless jerk."

Heeseung’s smirk didn’t waver, and he took a step closer to you. "Oh c’mon, it’s not like it was the end of the world." he taunted. "Besides, it was pretty funny to see you all green-faced and puking your guts out.

A firm demand left your lips as you gestured towards the front door. "Get out," you directed, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Heeseung’s smirk faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing at your firmness. He paused for a moment, his gaze locked on you, before a taunting smirk returned to his lips. "And what if I don’t want to?" he challenged, taking another step towards you.

“Then I'll call the cops and accuse you of harassing me!" Your eyes narrowed, your anger and determination evident.

Heeseung chuckled, his arms still crossed, not intimidated in the slightest. "And what makes you think anyone would believe you?" he countered, a hint of smugness in his voice.

Frustration and exhaustion consumed you, pushing you to the edge. "I'm done," you murmured, your voice filled with weariness as you retreated to your bedroom.

Heeseung's smirk faded as you retreated to your bedroom, leaving him standing alone in the living room. He watched the door close behind you, a flicker of something inexplicable crossing his face before he quickly masked it with his usual arrogance.

He stood there for a few moments, the silence deafening. He didn't know what to do next. He had expected you to cave in, to give him what he wanted. But he hadn't expected you to stand up to him, to outright kick him out. The look in your eyes had been different, more vulnerable, almost... hurt.

He gritted his teeth, his mind whirling with a mix of irritation and something else he couldn’t quite identify. He was not used to people not giving him what he wanted, and he hated that you had just stood up to him like that.

He considered knocking on your bedroom door, to go in there and confront you, to demand an explanation for your behavior. But something held him back. Maybe it was the memory of the hurt look in your eyes, or maybe it was his own ego refusing to stoop down to that level.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the inexplicable turmoil within him. He glanced around the living room for a moment, realizing that there wasn't anything else for him to do here. After a few moments of internal debate, he reluctantly made his way to the front door and let himself out.

—

The next few days were tense and awkward, as both of you avoided each other in the hallways and classes. The only interactions you had were brief glances filled with silent anger and resentment.

Heeseung's usual air of arrogance was even more pronounced, and he made no effort to hide his irritation whenever you happened to be in proximity to each other

Heeseung, leaning against a locker with a scowl on his face, is approached by Sunghoon and Jake as they walk up to him.

"Hey, what’s with the sour face?" Jake asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Heeseung just grumbled and rolled his eyes, clearly not in the mood to talk.

“Did you and y/n break up or something?” Sunghoon asked, looking at you talk to a couple of your friends from far away.

Heeseung’s scowl deepened as he watched you interacting with your friends.

"Yeah, something like that," he muttered, his tone laced with irritation.

Sunghoon and Jake exchanged surprised glances after hearing Heeseung's words. They hadn’t expected that.

"Wait, seriously? You and y/n?" Sunghoon questioned, sounding skeptical.

Heeseung's jaw tightened as he remembered the incident that had started all of this. It was that stupid party three years ago that had caused him to upload that stupid video, and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

"Yeah, we were supposed to be fake dating, but she just called it off."

Jake and Sunghoon looked surprised again, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Why did she call it off?" Jake inquired, curiosity piqued.

Heeseung grunted, his irritation resurfacing. "She said she couldn’t keep up the act any longer and that she despised me too much."

Sunghoon and Jake exchange surprised glances again.

"Damn," Sunghoon muttered. "I didn't know she hated you *that* much."

Jake chimed in, his tone serious. "I think you should apologize, dude," he stated bluntly. "What you did to her was messed up."

Heeseung rolled his eyes, his usual cockiness returning. "Why the hell would I apologize? She should be thanking me; her popularity skyrocketed after that whole puking incident blew up on social media."

"Are you kidding?" Jake retorted, his tone laced with disbelief. "You uploaded a video of her puking her guts out for the whole school to see, and you think she should thank you? Seriously?"

Heeseung shrugged nonchalantly, his expression unrepentant. "Hey, it’s not my fault if she can’t handle a little embarrassment. Besides, we were both drunk that night. She was drinking just as much as I was, if not more."

Sunghoon shook his head, disappointment evident in his eyes. "Man, you’ve really got some messed up ideas about what constitutes a ‘prank.’ You humiliated her, Heeseung. That’s not something you do to someone you care about, even if it’s fake dating. You need to apologize to her and make things right."

Heeseung let out an exasperated sigh, his irritation building. "First of all, I don’t care about her one bit. And second, why do I have to apologize when it was her own stupidity that got her into that situation in the first place? She’s the one who downed all those shots and ended up puking. Not my fault she can’t handle her alcohol.”

"Dude, that's completely irrelevant," Jake interjected, his voice firm. "It doesn’t matter how much she drank or how she ended up puking. What matters is that you deliberately chose to film her and upload it online, without her consent or knowledge, for hundreds of people to see. That’s a shitty thing to do, no matter how you spin it."

Heeseung let out another annoyed sigh as he looked at the disapproving faces of Sunghoon and Jake. He knew they were right, but he didn't want to admit it.

"Fine," he grumbled, his tone reluctant. "I’ll apologize. But I’m not going to enjoy it, and I’m not going to mean it."

Sunghoon and Jake nodded, but their expressions remained skeptical. They knew better than to get their hopes up.

"Good luck," Jake said, a slight hint of sarcasm in his tone.

Heeseung shot him a glare but didn’t respond. He grumbled under his breath and walked away, making his way towards where he knew you would be.

He found you with a small group of friends, chatting and laughing. You hadn’t noticed him approaching yet, and for a moment, he paused, watching you from a distance. There was something about the way you smiled and laughed that tugged at some unknown part of him, but he quickly shook it off, reminding himself that he didn’t care about you.

He took a deep breath, mustering up his usual arrogant facade, and took a step forward, making his presence known. He cleared his throat, catching your attention.

You and your friends turned to look at him, your expression immediately turning cold the moment you saw him. You tried to suppress the anger and hurt that bubbled up inside you every time you laid eyes on him.

Heeseung’s heart clenched at the look on your face, but he quickly masked it with his usual cocky smirk. He stepped forward, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Hey, can we talk,” he began, his tone nonchalant, betraying none of the conflict within him.

You and your friends exchanged wary glances. It was unusual for Heeseung to ask to talk to you, especially in front of an audience. You felt an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach, but you couldn’t deny your curiosity. You nodded, reluctantly stepping away from your friends to talk to him.

Once you were a few steps away from your friends, far enough for them not to overhear the conversation, Heeseung spoke again. His voice had a hint of strain in it, as if he was forcing himself to speak.

"I need to talk to you about something," he said, his tone serious for once.

There was no room for discussion as you made your stance clear. "If you think you can just waltz up and apologize, forget it," you stated firmly. "I don't want to hear it."

Heeseung’s expression faltered for a moment, momentarily taken aback by your firmness. He hadn’t expected you to be this adamant, but he quickly recovered and masked his surprise with his usual haughty demeanor.

"Oh really," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You’re just going to reject my apology without even hearing me out?"

Your eyes rolled in annoyance. "You've got thirty seconds. That's all you get," you conceded, reluctantly granting him a brief opportunity to speak.

Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly at your ultimatum. He didn’t expect you to give him a chance to speak, but he wasn’t going to waste it. He took a step closer to you, his face suddenly serious as he looked into your eyes.

Without warning, Heeseung reached forward and grabbed your face, his hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed his lips firmly against yours in a sudden, unexpected kiss.

Your eyes widened in surprise as he kissed you, the suddenness of his actions catching you off guard. Your body tensed involuntarily, the shock of the kiss coursing through your body. But as much as you despised him and his arrogance, your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat at the feel of his lips against yours.

A few students around them let out soft gasps and coos as they noticed the unexpected kiss. It was quite the sight to behold, especially considering the tension between the two of you that had been simmering for years.

Heeseung ignored the reactions of the people around them, his focus solely on you. When he finally pulled away, his eyes searched your face, trying to gauge your reaction.

You were still in shocked state and speechless, your mind still reeling from the unexpected kiss. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, your gaze firmly fixed on his face.

"Heeseung," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "What the hell was that?"

Heeseung let out a sigh, his hands dropping from your cheeks. He took a step back, giving you some space.

"It was my way of apologizing," he replied, his voice low. His gaze flicked over your face, watching your expression carefully. "And my way of making you listen to me for more than 30 seconds."

Your brows furrowed, your shock quickly turning into irritation. "Is that your idea of an apology?" you questioned, your voice laced with disbelief. "Kissing me without any warning or consent?"

Heeseung noticed the slight flush on your cheeks and the way your breath hitched briefly during the kiss. Your reaction didn’t go unnoticed by him, and a hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"You seemed to have enjoyed it, and you didn’t pull back,” he pointed out, a slight edge in his voice.

You blushed, feeling embarrassed that he had noticed your slight response to his unexpected kiss. You quickly composed yourself, trying to maintain a stern expression.

"That doesn’t matter," you retorted, your tone firm. "You can’t just kiss someone without their consent and call it an apology."

Heeseung watched as you tried to mask your reaction to the kiss, amused by your obvious effort. He took a step closer to you, his gaze locking onto yours.

"Oh really? Well then, should I give you another one?" he teased, his voice low and slightly seductive.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you found yourself unable to resist as you whispered a soft, almost reluctant, “Yes.”

A sly smirk tugged at Heeseung’s lips at your response, and he didn’t hesitate to step closer to you. His hands came up to cup your face again, his palms warm and firm against your skin.

Without another word, he leaned in and captured your lips in another kiss. Despite the initial surprise, your body responded instantly, and after a moment’s hesitation, you melted into the kiss, your lips moving against his in a surprising display of reluctant want.

“Ew-“ Jake and Sunghoon watched with a mix of shock and confusion as you abruptly ended the kiss as they appeared out of nowhere. "I thought you were supposed to apologize, not make out!" Jake exclaimed incredulously.

Heeseung pulled back, his expression a mixture of irritation and slight embarrassment at being caught by Jake and Sunghoon. He shot them a glare, annoyed at their interruption.

"We were in the middle of something," he retorted, his tone sharp.

Jake chuckled, a smirk on his face. "Yeah, we could see that," he commented, clearly amused by the situation.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, looked between you and Heeseung with a slight frown. "So, did he apologize or not?" he asked.

Heeseung let out an exasperated sigh, his irritation resurfacing. "I was trying to," he grumbled. "And then the situation got a bit... distracted."

Jake let out a snort of laughter as he glanced at you, your cheeks still tinged with color from the unexpected kiss.

Heeseung leaned down, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low tone, ensuring his words were for your ears only.

"We’re not done yet," he murmured, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Your face flushed with embarrassment as the new nickname slipped from your lips, a mix of surprise and reluctant endearment. "Stop it, Hee..." you protested, shoving him away gently.

Heeseung chuckled lowly at your reaction, his smirk only widening as he saw the blush on your cheeks. The nickname slipped out so naturally from your lips, and he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction.

"Nope, not a chance," he replied, his tone filled with amusement. "I like the sound of it. You’re stuck with it now."

—

Over the next few days, the school was abuzz with the talk of you and Heeseung's unexpected public display of affection. The kiss he had given you in front of everyone was the talk of the school, and his friends constantly teased him about it.

One evening, Heeseung couldn’t shake the feeling that you were avoiding him. After not seeing you in the halls after classes, he decided to look for you.

He searched the school and finally found you sitting by yourself in a secluded rooftop area, looking out into the darkening sky. Heeseung approached, footsteps soft against the gravel, and stood a few feet away from you.

"You’ve been avoiding me," he stated, his tone tinged with a hint of annoyance. He leaned against the fence, crossing his arms as he observed you from the corner of his eye.

You turned your head to look at him, your expression neutral. "So what if I have been?" you replied, your voice cool and even.

You turned your head to look at him, your expression neutral. "So what if I have been?" you replied, your voice cool and even.

Heeseung’s jaw tightened slightly at your nonchalant response. He hadn’t expected such an indifferent reaction from you, and it irritated him even more. He pushed off the fence and took a few steps towards you.

"Why are you avoiding me? Because of what I did?" he asked, his voice sharp. He was standing only a few feet away from you now, his eyes locked onto your face, trying to decipher your expression.

Frustration and hurt bubbled up within you, your voice tinged with pain. "After that kiss," you spoke, your words thick with emotion, "I actually believed that you might have feelings for me. But I see now that it's just another game to you, isn't it?"

Heeseung’s jaw tensed as you spoke, your raw emotional response catching him slightly off guard. He hadn’t expected you to believe that he had feelings for you, especially after all the years of animosity between you.

"It’s not a game," he managed to grind out, his voice laced with a hint of defensiveness.

He took a step closer to you, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "The kiss was genuine," he admitted, his gaze fixed on your face. "I didn’t do it just for fun or as part of some game."

He took another step closer, the gap between you now small. He reached out, his hand gently lifting your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

"It just happened," he said, his voice softer now. "I wasn’t planning on it, but I couldn’t help myself."

He studied your face, looking for any sign of your reaction. He was struggling to understand why he had acted so impulsively, why he'd wanted to kiss you so badly.

"You just... you looked so captivating in that moment," he mumbled, his voice low.

His hand was still under your chin, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. He realized how close he was to you now, his heart racing for some inexplicable reason.

"I just did it, without thinking," he murmured, his eyes intently fixed on yours. "And I don’t regret it."

Your voice trembled with vulnerability as you sought confirmation. "You don't...?” You whispered, desperate for reassurance, the words hanging heavily in the air.

Heeseung’s grip on your chin tightened slightly as he responded, his voice firm and unwavering.

"No," he said, his tone resolute. "I don’t regret it at all. It felt right."

He took another step closer, his body almost touching yours now. His eyes searched your face, his gaze intent.

"It felt right," he repeated, his voice softer now. His hand slowly slid from your chin down to your cheek, and he cupped your face gently, as if he was afraid you’d pull away.

Heeseung’s gaze held a hint of something—an emotion that you couldn’t quite place as he looked at you. He was still holding your face tenderly in his hand.

"Do you have plans tonight?" he asked, his voice soft. "I have some studying to do. Want to join me?"

A laugh threatened to slip from your lips at the surprising invitation. "You, studying? That's a first," you teased, your words filled with disbelief.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, a small smirk playing on his lips. He knew that he wasn’t exactly known for his diligent study habits, but he had some studying he needed to catch up on.

"Oh, shut up. I do study sometimes." he retorted, his tone light.

Heeseung's smirk widened as he picked up on your entendre, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He took a step closer, his body now nearly pressed against yours.

"Trust me, you'll enjoy this kind of studying," he murmured, his voice low.

With that, Heeseung leaned closer, his lips hovering only inches from yours. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, and his pulse quickened.

He didn’t know what had gotten into him, but all he knew was that he wanted to be close to you, to feel your touch, to hear your voice. And right now, studying seemed like the perfect excuse to get what he wanted.

The nickname slipped from your lips once again, your voice tinted with unexpected familiarity. "Not right now, Hee," you echoed, the term of endearment rolling off your tongue almost effortlessly.

Heeseung's chest tightened at the sound of the nickname on your lips. It was just a slip up, a moment of weakness, but it sent a wave of something through him that he couldn’t explain.

He pushed closer, his body pressed against yours now. His hand moved from your face to your waist, holding you firmly against him.

"I think we should skip the studying," he murmured, his voice low. "I have something else in mind."

Heeseung pulled out his phone and typed something quickly into it before looking back up at you.

"Texted you my address," he said, his voice cool and casual. He took another step back before giving you a brief smirk. "Don’t be late."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart racing a little faster than before.

You stood there momentarily surprised, watching as Heeseung sauntered away. Your mind was still spinning from his sudden invitation, the unexpected nickname still lingering on your lips.

Without hesitating any longer, you fished out your phone from your pocket and saw the notification from Heeseung—his address. A part of you knew what he had in mind, and you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you at the thought.

As you rode the bus to Heeseung’s place, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. It still felt unreal, the fact that you were on your way to your sworn enemy's home with who knows what kind of intentions.

The butterflies in your stomach were becoming more prominent, and you took deep breaths to still your heart. It was only a study session, nothing more. At least, it’s what you told yourself.

After a few more minutes, the bus came to a stop and you stepped off, looking around to make sure you were in the right place. You spotted Heeseung’s apartment building up ahead, and quickened your steps.

As you approached the door to his unit, you hesitated for a split second before knocking. The seconds ticked by, your heart rate increasing with each passing moment. Finally, the door opened, revealing Heeseung in a casual hoodie and sweatpants.

His gaze was intense, his eyes roaming over your figure in a way that made you feel even more flustered. He stepped aside wordlessly to let you in, and you walked past him into the apartment.

The air felt thick with tension, and you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement mixed with nerves as you stood in his space, wondering what the night would bring.

His gaze sharpened as he looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on your figure with an intensity that made your heart race.

“You're here,” he said as he closed the door behind you and locks it, the sound echoing in the silence of the mansion.

As soon as the door was locked, Heeseung turned to face you, his eyes dark with a fierce hunger. Without a word, he closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to grab the back of your neck and pulled you in for a forceful kiss.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips to claim your mouth entirely. He walked you backwards until your back hit the wall, pinning you there with his body.

"Fucking yell y/n,” he muttered, hooking his fingers in your waistband, tearing your pants down roughly as he kicked them aside along with your shoes.

He stepped back briefly to take in your half-naked form, his chest heaving. He then reached up to remove his own hoodie, revealing his chiseled torso.

His heart was pounding in his chest, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. The sight of you standing there, nearly naked, drove him wild. He closes the distance again, his calloused hands running rough against your skin.

“Heeseung, I-“ His movements suddenly still as your words reach his ears.

His eyes met yours intensely, a mix of emotion crossing his features - desire, possessiveness, and something more tender he didn’t want to acknowledge.

"Shut up," he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and heavy "Just..."

He hooked his arms under your thighs and lifts you up against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist. He stepped out of his sweatpants, kicking them aside, leaving him in just his boxers.

Heeseung then pinned you against the wall, his hips pressing against yours intimately. You could feel his hard member poking at your thigh. "Tell me to stop," he whispered against your neck, his teeth nipping at your sensitive skin. "Say the words..." His hands trailed up your sides, his thumbs brushing against your breasts, making you let out a quiet gasp.

His breath catches at the sound of your desperate whimpers, feeling your nails digging into his back.

"Please..." you moaned, arching against him. "Heeseung... I can't..." His self-control is barely hanging by a thread as he listened to your pleading.

His control finally snapped at your pleading, and he captured your mouth in a brutal kiss, one hand tangling in your hair while the other slides between your legs. "Is this what you want?" he growled against your lips, touching you intimately through your underwear.

He broke away from your mouth just long enough to pull down your bra, exposing your breasts. His head dipped down, capturing one taut nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his hand continued its steady rhythm between your legs.

"Mmh, so good... Heeseung, please... more... " You gasped out, your head falling back against the wall as he sucked on your sensitive nipple, your hips bucking against his hand. "Inside... I need you inside..."

His chuckled is dark and husky as he hooked his fingers in your underwear, slowly dragging it down your legs. He kneeled down, spreading your thighs over his shoulders. "Lift up," he ordered, his breath hot against your most intimate area. “Wanna taste you princess..."

Heeseung pulled your hips closer, his tongue finding your center. He licked slowly, deliberately, savoring your sweet taste. "You're so wet for me..." he groaned, adding pressure, his tongue swirling around your sensitive bud. "Tell me... tell me how much you want it..."

He looked up at you with hooded eyes, maintaining eye contact as he continued his teasing movements with his tongue "Tell me..." he says, his voice is low and commanding "Tell me how bad you need my cock..."

He pushed one finger inside you, then another "This what you want?"

"Please... Heeseung, yes... I need you... your cock..." You whimpered, your hips involuntarily pressing against his fingers "I'm so close... please..." You're completely lost in pleasure, no longer caring about anything but his touch "Touch me..."

He removed his fingers, standing up and quickly unbuckling his belt. "Shut up and spread your legs." He demanded, pulling out his hard, thick cock. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight."

He positioned himself between your spread thighs, rubbing his thick head against your soaked folds teasingly "Heeseung... Please… want you to fill me up!”

He growled at the sound of his name falling from your lips in desperation, finally thrusting inside you without warning.

He filled you completely, stretching you out as he buried himself inside you. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling your legs up against his chest as he pounded into you, hitting deep spots that made you scream and claw at his arms "Heeseung! To- to big!"

Shut up,” he hissed, his face a mask of concentration as he continued to pound into you, his hips slapping loudly against yours.

He wrapped his arms around your legs, pulling them over his shoulders, getting impossibly deeper as he continued to stretch you out.

He paused his thrusts, his face twisted in a cruel grin as he reached down and forced your mouth open.

"Take it." He spat into your mouth, the bitter taste of saliva mixing with his own saliva as he held your head in place, making sure you swallowed it. He groaned at the sight, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “Such a good girl for me, yeah?”

You nodded your head in response, bucking your hips up, but he doesn’t move. “You didn’t answer my question princess.”

“I-I’m a good girl for you..” you muttered embarrassingly as Heeseung chuckled at your flustered expression.

He wiped his thumb across your lips, smearing his saliva mixed with yours "Taste good? Now open your legs wider. I'm not done with you yet,” He let out a low groan, thrusting deeper and harder, his body slapping against yours with force "You feel that?"

"Hnnngh... f-fuck... it's so deep..." You whined, your voice strained and high-pitched as he hits your deepest spots with every thrust. Your legs shook from the intensity, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure and slight pain.

He smirked darkly at your whimpers, continuing to pound into you mercilessly "You're shaking already? I haven't even gotten started yet..." he teased, reaching up and pinches one of your nipples, twisting it slightly.

His free hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing tightly as he continued to thrust into you. "You like it rough, don't you?" He hummed, his face inches from yours. His grip on your throat tightened, cutting off your air supply as he fucks you harder and deeper.

"Heeseung... mmph..!" you responded, too cock hungry to think straight. His hand tightened around your throat, cutting off most of your air as he continues to pound into you forcefully. "You're almost there, aren't you? Those pretty eyes are rolling back..." his voice dropped to a threatening whisper.

His free hand reached down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it viciously as he continues to choke you. He looks into your bulging eyes, enjoying the sight of you struggling to breathe. "Look at me while I strangle you. You so good under me y/n…”

"Look at me... yeah... that's it...” he groaned, rubbing your clit faster while maintaining his grip on your throat, making sure your orgasm builds quickly "Cum for me... let me feel you squeeze my cock..." He groaned, his voice both demanding and seductive.

Aghh... c-can't... breathe..." You managed to choke out between gasps, your vision starting to blur at the edges. His fingers on your clit were driving you crazy, pushing you closer and closer to the edge even as he cuts off your air supply. "Hnngh..."

Heeseung smirked at your breathless whimpers "Just give up... let go..." he said, his voice turning husky. "Cum all over my cock while I choke you... show me how much you want it..." His fingers sped up on your clit, putting more pressure.

His hand on your throat tightened even more, his fingers digging into your neck as he continued to rub your swollen, sensitive bud furiously. "You're getting close, aren't you?” he chuckled, your legs shaking as your nails dig into his back.

He finally relents, releasing his grip on your throat and letting you gasped for air as his other hand keeps rubbing your clit at a frantic pace. He leaned down to press his lips against yours, muffling your screams as he forced his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your cries of ecstasy.

Finally, he broke the kiss just in time to watch your face contort in pleasure as you hit your climax, his fingers still working your clit. "There we go... cum all over my cock like a good girl..." He praised deeply, continuing his thrusts as your inner walls clamped down on him.

Youd body shook uncontrollably as waves of pleasure washed over you, your eyes rolling back as you let out a silent scream. "Heeseung! Feels so good...!" You clawed at his back desperately, your nails digging deep into his skin as you rode out your intense orgasm.

He chuckled darkly, his fingers slowly pulling out of your hair and stroking your cheek tenderly as he continued to thrust in and out of you, drawing out your pleasure. "Shh, baby. You're gushing all over my lap. Look at me." He demanded softly.

You managed to open your eyes and look up at Heeseung, your face flushed and covered in sweat as you panted heavily, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Hee-seung..." You whispered his name, your voice hoarse from screaming.

After pulling out, he coated his fingers with your mixed fluids and brought them to your lips. "Taste how good you feel wrapped around my cock..." He commanded softly, but firmly.

"Take it all..." He maintained eye contact as you obeyed, slowly sliding his fingers into your mouth.

"Such a good girl..." He praised softly, watching as you dutifully cleaned his fingers. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss before pulling back. "So pretty..."

Heeseung studied your face closely, his expression unreadable. He was still coming down from the high of your encounter and was struggling to keep a poker face.

"Hey," he said finally, his voice low. "You're unusually quiet. Are you alright?"

You took in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I'm fine," you replied, but you still found yourself unable to meet his gaze. The aftermath of what had just happened had caught up to you, and you were struggling to process all the emotions coursing through you. But you were not ready to deal with that just yet.

"Just tired," you mumbled, shifting to sit up to put your clothes on, your legs wobbly from earlier.

Heeseung watched as you attempted to stand on shaky legs, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "You sure you don't need a hand there, princess?" he teased, pushing himself off the wall and heading over to you.

He grabbed your shirt that lay discarded on the ground and knelt down in front of you. He gently lifted your arms and slipped the shirt over your head, his touch surprisingly gentle. His hands lingered on your hips as he helped you pull the fabric down over your body.

Heeseung's unexpected act of pulling you into a tight embrace caught you off guard. "What are you doing, Hee?" you asked, a hint of surprise in your voice.

He spoke softly, his head buried in the crook of your neck. "I realized I never gave you a proper apology," he murmured.

"I'm sorry, y/n." The genuineness in his voice was undeniable, his remorse palpable.

He pulled away slightly, his hands coming up to cup either side of your face. His eyes met yours and there was something different about his gaze, a vulnerability you'd never seen before. "I'm really sorry," he repeated, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks.

You were taken aback by the earnestness in his eyes, and for the first time, you felt as though he was laying himself bare before you.

"I..." You didn't know how to respond. You had never expected to hear anything like this from Heeseung, let alone this level of vulnerability. "I... I accept your apology," you mumbled softly, still processing everything.

Heeseung's shoulders seemed to drop in relief at your accepting his apology. His hands slid down from your face to rest on your waist, pulling you closer to him again.

"That's a start," he said, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. He leaned in, his forehead touching yours. "We've got a long way to go, you and I."

masterlist

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[yueebby]

how i met your mother  — gojo satoru

contents. fluff, meet ugly, established relationship, highschool!gojo in flashback, gojo just loves his wife and everyone is sick of it

notes. this is apart of my indulge me series but everything can be read as a standalone!

“you forgot to give me a kiss this morning,” your husband pouts from your lap before puckering his lips out, “i’ll need a thousand more to compensate!” 

just a couple meters away from you, paper crinkles harshly as nanami, your fellow colleague, flips the page on the newspaper he’s reading. you hear a heavy sigh leave his lips.  “i missed it when you both hated each other,” he readjusts his glasses with one hand tiredly. he’s disappointed, but not surprised with satoru’s behavior.

this comment causes itadori, who happened to be hanging out in the teacher’s lounge to perk up.

“gojo-sensei and gojo-san hated each other?” he sits up straight on the couch. the pink haired boy looks between you and satoru, who is purring happily as you play with his hair. “i can’t imagine that..” he mumbles quietly. he was, unfortunately, a first hand witness of gojo’s love for you.

the white haired male that was comfortably nestled in your lap looks up at you, “ah! she tried so hard to resist my charms, but this handsome face won in the end!” his loud boast leads you to cover his mouth with the palm of your hand.

“that couldn’t be farther from the truth,” you press your palm harder against his mouth, determined to silence his protests. 

nanami easily ignores his senior’s muffled whines while itadori looks at his sensei in pity. marriage must be tough, he thinks.

you only lift your hand off of his mouth with a shriek when satoru decides to lick your palm. he smirks proudly at himself causing the other two males in the room to grimace at the strange display of affection. 

“darling, you hated me?” his eyes blink up at you innocently, blue eyes on full display. you purse your lips together, resisting whatever game he was playing at. from the moment you stepped into the lounge with him, he insisted on taking his blindfold off. he argues that he has to see you with his own eyes or he’ll die. you argue that he’s dramatic. nonetheless, satoru was cute so you’ll let him get away with it. 

“hate is a strong word– i just didn’t like you very much. we got off on the wrong foot, might i remind you.” 

2005 — year one at tokyo jujutsu tech

meet at 1 chome-1-1 dogenzaka, shibuya city, tokyo

that was written in the letter addressed to you from yaga. the bustling streets of tokyo, filled with the cacophony of hundreds of conversations and the rush of oncoming traffic, were a stark contrast to the serene country life you had enjoyed. 

the sheer mass of people in the street made it nearly impossible for you to spot your teacher and future classmates, but the heavens above must be on your side because you spot a dark uniform in the corner of your eye, similar to the one you’re wearing.

a jujutsu tech uniform! without wasting a second, you weave your way through the crowd to the tall figure. upon closer inspection, you find that it was a boy with snow hair, a juxtaposition to the dark fabric of his uniform.

“excuse me, but are you by any chance from–” you tap on the abnormally tall frame from behind.

“not interested.” he doesn’t spare you a glance before walking away. it takes you a minute to process what had just happened. did he just–? that must have been a figment of your imagination. you feel as though you were shell shocked.

another voice joins the conversation, “oh, gojo, you found her.” it was another guy with a uniform just like the white haired boy and yours. he has notable bangs, you think. 

“did i? she must be a real weakling. i couldn’t even sense her cursed energy,” gojo now turns back to look at you.

a surge of irritation courses through you, your grip on your skirt tightening. this guy must be some spoiled brat that came from a special lineage. you shoot him a sharp glare from the corner of your eyes, only to find out that he too had a sharp gaze on you.

a low whistle comes out of his mouth. 

 “oh,” there is a noticeable change in the tone of his voice. from your peripheral vision, you notice him take off his round sunglasses. “hey.”  you want to laugh.

out of pure pettiness, you recycle his previous comment, “not interested.”

thankfully, another student arrived, this time it was a girl with short brown hair. she waved at you politely, to which you happily smiled. it was nice to know that there were some people left in this world with manners.

soon after her arrival, yaga comes.

“hello, i’m [last name] [first name] from kyoto. please take care of me!” you bow before everyone but gojo or whatever his name is. you come to find out that mr. bangs is actually geto and the pretty girl is ieiri.

“you didn’t tell me she was hot,” gojo not-so-quietly whispers to geto. the hand over his mouth is in vain because you can still hear him clearly. both ieiri and geto make a distasteful face. 

you look around confused. it’s not everyday you receive such a brash compliment, “...thank you?” 

there’s a slightly horrified look on gojo’s face when he realizes that you had heard him, but he recovers quickly, replacing it with a cheshire grin.

“say, have you been to shinjuku? i’m sure a country bumpkin like you wouldn’t know, so allow me to–” 

there’s only so much patience in your body. with a deep breath and your best passive aggressive smile, you utter, “no thanks.” 

he blinks. once. twice. you assume he is not used to rejection with the way he has yet to process it. 

a soft chuckle leaves his mouth, “playing hard to get, i see. i like a challenge.”

“that’s not really the case.”

“one date,” he announces with a playful smirk, raising a single finger in emphasis.

you’re on the verge of shaking your head in rejection, but before you can, yaga intervenes, swiftly and unceremoniously slapping the back of gojo’s head.

“kids these days,” he mutters under his breath while gojo rubs the wound painfully. you snicker.

gojo straightens up when the sound of your laughs reaches his ears. his eyes track the sound waves back to your face, only to be disappointed when he sees that your attention is on geto. 

unlike gojo, geto was trying to salvage what was left of a good first impression. the black haired male smiles awkwardly, leading you away from his strange friend, “so you’re from kyoto? why didn’t you attend the jujutsu tech there?”

from behind you, there’s an incredulous, “eh? and lose a beauty like that to the kyoto guys?” 

you’re nearly certain that a blood vessel is about to pop. but you swallow your frustration, choosing to answer the only sensible boy you’ve met today.

“i’m trying to avoid clan matters, so kyoto is the last place i want to be,” you explain to geto who nods understandingly. 

what you don’t see is the sneaky wink he sends back at a fuming satoru.

2018 — present day

your recollection must not have been accurate, because your husband is sulking by the end of your story. 

“hmph. that’s not how i remember it.” he crosses his arm with a huff.

“how do you remember it? do tell.” you look down at him. there’s a cheeky glint in his eyes, like you’ve just walked into his trap.

there’s a cheeky glint in his eyes, like you’ve just walked into his trap. “i remembered cherry blossoms falling and more hearts floating around,”

you smack his shoulder.

“be serious!”

he waves his hand in the air to stop your playful attacks, “fine, fine!” 

you know that he’s secretly enjoying the attention.

“well, i’m quite the looker so it was common for girls to constantly gush over me y’know?” he grins. you did not find that amusing, retracting your hands from his hair. he immediately grabs your hand and places it back on his head.

“let me finish!”

you resume your handiwork on his head reluctantly. “go on.”

there’s a content smile on his face, “i thought you were just trying to hit on me! it was only after i took a good look at you, i realized that you were totally hot.”

“i can’t believe i married you.” you roll your eyes, but there is no malice behind the action.

“hah–” his mouth is wide open. “i’m a total catch, ya’ know?!” 

“mhm, yeah. you are a catch toru,” you coo while pinching his cheek and he blushed furiously. 

the two of you are too engrossed with each other to notice the horrified look that has settled on nanami’s face. one peaceful afternoon, he thinks. one peaceful afternoon is all he asks for.

extra notes- 

yuji respects gojo as his teacher, but he still can’t believe that gojo was able to pull you.

there have been multiple occasions where you had forgotten to give satoru a goodmorning kiss, each time he finds you and forces you to actually give him a dozen to compensate. it doesn’t matter if he was on a mission or teaching (he’s annoying like that).

gojo’s the pride of the gojo clan so he was spoiled rotten, hence the reason why he was so sure you were into him.

this is only the start, as your high school years go by, he only falls harder.

[bluemerakis]

────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ───

❝ memory foam ❞

─ ۶ৎ ─

pairing ୨୧ soldier boy x fem!reader

synopsis ─ soldier boy teaches you how to roll a blunt and then makes you hold it between your lips while he fucks you into insanity. just filth honestly bc this man is filthy and i love it

warnings .ᐟ cussing, light misogyny throughout (i mean,, come on), v light dirty talk, masturbation f receiving, hair-pulling, grinding, edging/overstimulation, spanking, fingering, unprotected sex p in v. i feel like these warnings have y’all opening this fic with a therapist on speed dial. if i forgot anything pls lmk!

word count ~ 7.3k (this was supposed to be a drabble 😀)

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Lithe trails of smoke crept over the horizon of your laptop screen, which called your attention toward Ben’s seated figure at the small, rounded table near the kitchen. You reached to lower your laptop screen an inch—just enough to properly reveal the schemes unravelling beneath your boyfriend’s hunched over frame. You didn’t doubt that he was currently unravelling some recent haul of self-indulgent narcotics because as much as you loved your severely traumatised, addict boyfriend, he didn’t have any other tasteful way to pass time. Well, when he wasn’t ploughing you into the mattress and pummelling your senses into an otherworldly abyss of pleasure, of course.

Ben had slipped into the apartment an hour ago with that dubious, white plastic bag in clutch—no print to identify any luxurious takeaway you’d have killed to plunge into your gurgling stomach. You’d been tempted to ask about it then, but he’d entered with such a thick swathe of broodiness cramping his brows that you’d laid off the interrogation entirely. Though, just by stealing a single glance of the bag in its own, unassuming simplicity, it could have branded itself as some sketchy stash of drugs he’d picked up from one of his regular dealers on the way home.

You honed in on the man of the hour, your unflattering nosiness taking the cake on the mental debate of whether or not you should interfere with Ben’s activities. It was a debate that had never happened to begin with because meddling in anything and everything that he did was practically your brand—no questions asked. You’d once called it a loving obsession, but Ben had called it a hounding cock block on his highs. You’d been quick to rebrand your pestering of him as your own guilty addiction, and he hadn’t had much to say in response to that. He had his addictions, and you had yours—him. Oh, he so must’ve regretted accommodating you into his life.

Your boyfriend’s sharp features were currently kneaded into a focused frown, his head tilted down to where he emptied out the plastic packet onto the table. Your chin perked with sly interest, no further surprise to be unwrapped when you glimpsed a sprawl of paper and herbs. Drugs, as expected, but nothing nearly as hard as his usual indulgences. Your attention flickered up to the blunt currently clutched between his lips—the bane of your existence—before you lowered your focus back down to the table, where his busy hands alternated between segregating the devious mess and popping out his smoking stick to dispel a pull.

You didn’t need to squint hard to confidently label said herbs as weed—once the distinct scent left his lips to shroud the modest apartment and assault your sensitive nose, it was a dead giveaway. You’d never been much of a fan of smoking to begin with, and weed might’ve been the rankest pick of it all, but it’s something you’d gradually grown tolerant of. It’s not like you had much of a say in the matter, anyway, given that your boyfriend had his lips wrapped around a cig almost as often as he had them wrapped around you. It was a relationship that had existed long before yours, so who were you to complain, really?

Besides, this was his apartment, which meant that his guilty pleasures were anything but your business. And you doubted that your complaint would manage a graze of his ears before his cock would plug your lips to shut you the hell up about it. He didn’t much like when you had an attitude about his aforementioned hobbies.

“Ah, shit!” Ben exclaimed angrily around the blunt’s body—a muffled sound that banished smoke from his pursed lips. You watched as he tossed aside the plastic packet, seizing his tempter by the throat as he thudded his palm against the table. “Fuckin’ dickless prick sold me short,” he grumbled to nobody in particular, releasing the blunt for a disgruntled exhale before his lips took to it once more like his next, dire breath.

You plugged your lips at his temper tantrum, throttling a chuckle you knew would be severely misplaced during this fit of his. You couldn’t help it, though. Ben loved to pretend that he was ‘man enough’ to be unbothered by trivial things, but it never took much to get under his skin. The irony was so palpable that you could’ve poked and prodded at it with ridicule. “What’re you doing?” You called to him with an accentuated chirp to your tone—you’re curious, oblivious, not probing.

Ben’s eyes lifted from the table for a second to glance in your direction, where you sat comfortably cushioned against the headboard of his bed. His glare hovered for a few measly seconds, holding no adoration at this particular time. It made you utter a mental damn. At most, he’d give you a wink or a scheming narrowing of his eyes that spoke all sorts of dirty he’d have loved to work you through. But he merely turned back to the task at hand, freeing the blunt from his tightly-wrung lips.

Yeah, women are the moody ones, you remarked mentally. What a chuckle-fest.

The supe gave a hefty exhale, smoke streaming out in a slow gust that told you a somber story of a shit-filled day. His whole demeanour was off-put. A good girlfriend would’ve asked him about it, but a smarter one—like yourself—knew err on the side of caution. You’d long since learned not to pester him about his emotions because, to quote Ben: ‘only pussies hold hands and waste daylight wailin’ about this ‘nd that. Me? I ain’t strokin’ anybody’s cock with some me too bullshit. You gotta act the man and suck it up.’

Yeah, you weren’t going to open that can of worms again.

Without sparing you another glance, Ben jerked his head in your direction. “Get over here,” he demanded distractedly. “It’s ‘bout time I teach ya the hustle o’ this shit.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll leave the lung cancer to you,” you poked light-heartedly, but you shifted your laptop aside to scamper across the mattress regardless. Unfortunately, you were the type to spend any given chance at your boyfriend’s side, and it didn’t matter how trivial the activity was—it was all about the quality time. Ben was overly tolerant of your clinginess, so much so that you almost thought he enjoyed the attention more than you did. But that wasn’t anything he’d ever admit to, were it true to begin with.

You ambled across the open-plan apartment towards his smoke-enveloped figure, and upon reaching the table, you pulled out the chair opposite him to take up his company. All the while, Ben’s attention remained fixed on his concoctions, never once straying from the table to acknowledge that you’d joined him.

“Why would I need to know how to do any of this, anyway? You know I don’t smoke,” you asked once you sat yourself down, hand swivelling through the air to disperse the suffocating haze of the weed, lingering under your nose like an intoxicating fart. You watched his free hand sort the dried and shredded weed into evenly-sized piles with one of your ancient loyalty cards—a card you’d lost a few weeks back. The bastard must’ve nicked it from your purse. And knowing him, he’d probably used it for plenty more than sorting weed.

“No,” he agreed, “but I do. Besides, it’s somethin’ every fine woman such as yourself oughta know. It’s not usually what women waste their time learnin’, but I’m sure I could have ya mastering this shit in no time. You’re a surprisingly quickly learner,” he murmured busily, pausing only to secure the blunt between his lips once more.

You didn’t know whether to feel offended at that observation, or to accept it with the knowledge that Ben didn’t usually hand out compliments—even backhanded ones—outside of, well, being inside of you. You dismissed the thought with a flick of your eyes, but soon, you were drawn to his face once more. You could have grown jealous with the amount of time his lips spent wrapped around that paper-wrapped crap, but you’d long since laid off the visuals. He enjoyed your pouting way too much—always finding a way to ridicule you for it.

“Why the sudden insistence that I learn this crap?” You asked.

After a deep pull, Ben retrohaled the smoke off to the side, conscious not to direct it onto your intolerant senses. “Cause it sure hits the spot when your girl can slip you a win after the day’s been a fuckin’ ball-buster,” he mumbled.

“Or,” you countered, head tilting with a pretence of consideration as you watched him sort the piles of weed into small plastic bags. “Here’s a thought—and just humour me, would you? You could make yourself one,” you finished, hands coming forward to fold onto the table as your eyes flickered up to Ben expectantly.

He lifted his head to fix you with peeved eyes, the card’s rim stilling against the last herded pile of weed as his free hand plucked the stick from his lips. “The hell you think I been doin’ all this time?” He challenged pointedly. The blunt’s ignited end pulsed with heat—as if to emphasise his words. “Is it too much to ask that you fix me a goddamn escape after a long fuckin’ day?”

“It is in that tone, Mister,” you scoffed, leaning yourself across the table in an attempt to pluck the blunt from his fingers, but he was quick to catch you at the wrist. Your lip quirked at the force with which he restrained you, your eyes slurring up to his with a heavy, seductive whisk of your lashes.

Ben always caught the intention behind your every act of defiance. He enjoyed it, even, despite the permanent hint of dour in his expression. “Hands off my shit,” he warned, his pretty green eyes drilling into yours to emphasise his point. “Don’t make me fuck the nerve right outta you—you know better.”

You took your lower lip into an amused bite, enjoying the way you so easily seemed to rile him up. Yeah, your boyfriend was a Supe, but it was moments like this that made you feel like you held all the power—and you revelled in it. ‘Nobody controls me’, your ass. You had Ben wrapped around your finger. He knew it, too, he just wouldn’t admit it because what man wants to admit that he’s pussy-whipped? No, he’d rather bathe in denial by fucking you senseless each night, smothering your head into the sheets and coaxing his name from your foul lips so that he felt he had some semblance of control over the way you made him feel.

You succumbed to his possessive grasp, leaning your body further across the table as your head tilted in cheek. “Do I know better?” You absolutely did, and so did he. But part of the fun—part of what made this dynamic between the two of you so riveting, is that you pretended to act stupid, and Ben eagerly indulged it as an opportunity to condescend you and further inflate his toxic ego. And something more.

The supe’s lip quirked in amusement as he glared you down, but the sentiment didn’t reach high enough to mould his eyes into kindness. “Gonna play it like that, hm?” he murmured, bringing the blunt back to his lips before he leaned further into your proximity, his lips brushing against yours with the tease of a kiss. But he didn’t follow through with his unspoken promise. Instead, his lips parted only to huff the smoke directly into your face.

Your nose scrunched at the scent, your free hand lifting from the table to shoo away the smoke. “Ben!” You protested, but his grip on you didn’t budge until the intrusive fog thinned out into the rest of the room. You gave a light cough at being a forced second party to his smoking, and that’s when he finally released your wrist—more like discarded it in a careless toss. You retreated with a huff and sat yourself back down. “Dick!”

“Pussy,” he retorted through a shit-eating smirk, but he quickly came to realise that the amusement was wholly one-sided when he glimpsed your ruffled brows. There were very few times you could have convinced him that his actions weren’t funny. “Ah, come on,” he drawled, attention lowering back to the weed as he suckled on the smoking stick once more. “You know ya love it,” he mumbled.

“Oh, bite me,” you murmured lightly, crossing your arms as you watched him continue his work. You could have chosen to pout a little longer, but you’d have been naive to settle down with somebody like Ben and not expect him to pull a nasty stunt now and again. Besides, you did like him mean. The subtle glow that beamed briefly within the crook of your thighs was testament to that.

“You ever roll a blunt before?” Ben muttered, eyes downturned to where his hands began prepping an irregularly squared piece of paper. The question was sheer stupidity—so much so that you felt the the weight of the frown on your brows as you parted your lips to answer him with far too much eager spunk. But Ben pulled the cancer stick from his lips and interjected without missing a breath.

“Just pullin’ your leg—‘course ya haven’t. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the fuckin’ Mother Reverend of the Church of Holy Smokes.” At that jab, his eyes lifted to yours with a smugness that wound his lips thin.

You gave a dismissive roll of your eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” you hummed, your arms unfolding to rest your hands against the table. “You can keep shitting on me, Benjamin, but let’s not forget just how ancient you are. Once your light’s snuffed out, old man, maybe—just maybe, I’ll consider learning how to smoke, and it’ll be your ashes I probe in that damn ashtray.” Oh, how the roles would reverse.

Ben neglected the piece of paper he’d been gripping and straightened himself from the table. He leaned back into his chair with a gruff chuckle, his gaze raking you over with a light air of amusement. He plucked the blunt from his lips and hovered over the table as he gave a compliant cock of his head—a gesture that said, yeah, I could get behind that.

“Just make sure you put the tray somewhere I can get a good view of your ass,” he retorted with a brisk wink before he pressed the cigar’s inflamed nose into the ashtray loitering beside his hand. “And the tray better not be this ugly fuckin’ thing. Get me somethin’. . . quaint—none o’ this modern day lifeless shit and a half that’s got fuckin’ pussy power or some ball-less, feministic propo shit like that scribbled on the side.”

You narrowed your eyes mischievously. “Only you will demand everything your way even in death,” you chuckled, then you tilted your head inquisitively. “So you’re telling me that if I had to get my breasts casted with clay to make two matching bowls for your ashes, you’d have a problem with that? Is it too modern for you?”

Ben’s brows hoisted up a look of consideration, then his lips pursed with content acceptance. “Baby,” he drawled. “You do that and I’ll be back to fuck you in your dreams every. goddamn. night,” he promised.

“I guess that might help me not to forget you,” you retorted cheekily.

“Damn right,” he mumbled cockily. “Can’t forget a dick as givin’ as this one, anyway—and you’d be kiddin’ yourself otherwise. Little cock-slut like you? You were made to memorise every inch of my dick like a butt-print in a shitty velvet sofa.” He birthed a grin so condescending that it barely left room for you to breathe.

Smug, obscene asshole, you scoffed silently, but you couldn’t deny the truth behind his claim, and you had countless memories to serve as evidence. Ben knew that—it was the singular thing that warranted his sheer audacity to boast. For lack of better words, you flashed him the finger before bundling yourself back up, arms crossed against your chest as a ruffled gesture for him to continue his little project.

He made an amused noise halfway between a grunt and a chuckle before shifting in his seat and guiding his hands back to the concoction before him. “C‘mon, take a look,” he urged, plucking up some of the shredded weed between his fingers and gingerly placing it onto the squared paper. He took a moment to prod along the scattered herbs until a coherent line was formed atop the material. “This right here,” he said, prodding the paper, “s’called rollin’ paper. Gotta wrap it around the weed real nice and tight, like the foreskin of a sexually-abstained father of the church. Or some creakin’, ol’ geezer.”

“So like you, then?” You interjected, and you could’ve sworn you heard the snap of his neck as his eyes darted up to scorn you.

“Callin’ me old when you’re the one who can’t walk after one night in my bed is a li’l comical, don’tcha think?” He retorted, eyes lowering to where he rolled his thumb along the ball of his index finger to dislodge the clinging weed scraps. “Man,” he laughed in disbelief. “You got helluva mouth on ya.”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s called?” You chirped sarcastically, rubbing your lips together as though smearing some chapstick along the edges. You knew it was a stupid, bratty punch to throw, but you thought it worth it if it would coax any sort of reaction from Ben—and it did.

He glanced up at you from beneath hitched brows, pushing out a chuckle so forced, it could’ve starred the backtrack of some poorly made sitcom. But the faux amusement in his expression was dropped in an instant, his chin making an impatient jut in your direction—like the firm finger of a mother’s chide. “Shut the fuck up and pay attention.”

Your eyes widened in mock as you muttered a “yes, sir,” and turned your attention back to the table, your heading craning with far too much curiosity for your liking. Your eyes trailed every whisk and wander of his skilled fingers as he prepped another paper like the last. “Does it matter how much weed’s in a single blunt?”

Cautiously, Ben moved back to the first paper, his lips subconsciously jutting into a focused pout. It was something he did often without a notice, and you couldn’t help but savour the scene with a subtle grin. It was adorable, but for the sake of preserving the clueless tradition, you never said anything about it. You knew he’d find some way to get butt-hurt over you pointing it out, and then you’d be stuck with him forging some permanent, stoic expression to fend off the horrors of being called adorable.

He anchored the topmost corners of the rolling paper with his middle fingers before grabbing the bottom corners between his thumb and index finger, finally folding the square in half. “‘Bout a gram or two’ll do,” he finally replied. “But the paper’s already sized, so it’s just gotta be enough to fit in it. . .” he murmured busily, trailing off as he focused his attention onto carefully lifting the assembly from the table—determined not to spill any of the contents and further rob himself of the stock he’d been sold short on.

“Now,” Ben cleared his throat with utmost enthusiasm, his eyes momentarily lingering on the wrap before they flickered over to you with a scheme glinting in their green depths. Just what the hell was he up to now? “We gotta wet this baby real good, so why don’tcha stick out that tongue o’ yours for me, yeah? Lend an old man a helpin’ hand once in a while.”

He held the makeshift blunt tenderly between his thumbs and index fingers as he presented it in your direction with an annoyingly smug furnish to his handsome features.

Your eyes widened in surprise at his request. “You do it,” you told him through a chuckle, pressing your index finger against his nearest hand to gently nudge the dissembled blunt back in his direction. “You’re the pro of the fucking cancer sticks, so you show me how it’s done. Like you said.”

Ben cocked his head in slight disappointment, a smirk pitching up the corner of his lips as he withdrew the blunt with a light huff. “To think you’re usually all I can do it myself, Ben, I don’t need your help, Ben,” he mocked deeply, which caused your face to contort with a hint of offence.

“I don’t sound like th—“

“Yeah, you do,” he cut you short, the smirk on his lips playing into a full-blown grin as he drank in your affronted pout. “You and your fuckin’ feminist high,” he scoffed, bringing the paper up to his lips. “Now, stuff it and watch, ‘cause I’m only gonna show you once—and I expect ya to nail it off the fuckin’ bat.”

You hitched a brow at his subtle threat. “Or what?” You challenged.

He left that question unanswered—verbally, at least. But he fixed you with an intense glare as his tongue slipped past his lips to drag a slow, accentuated line along the edge of the paper, and you knew that to be answer enough. A promise—and hardly one of a good time when he was calling all the shots with the intent to punish you. Still, you felt your core jolt at that singular gesture, your thighs discreetly pressing together with the memory of that very movement that must’ve become etched into your folds by now. That teasing bastard, getting you all hot and bothered just for the sake of it.

When he reached the end of the jagged material, he drew the line back up one more time before his tongue retreated back to the concealment behind his lips. He lowered the concoction to the table, gaze still trained on you. Then, with a beckoning gesture of his chin, he said, “get over here.”

You obliged silently, quickly—guided by your arousal more than your own will, if you were being honest. Your chair screeched in protest as you pushed yourself up from your seat and slipped around the circumference of the table towards Ben’s seated frame. You’d barely reached his side when he freed a hand to eagerly outstretch and receive you, his large palm snaking along the small of your back to hook around your waist. He pulled you into his lap, legs spread in a wide v to comfortably accommodate your frame onto his.

As you settled yourself onto his lap, you made a point to dramatically shimmy your ass into the crook of his legs, causing him to grunt as you ground yourself against his prominent manhood. His free hand snaked over your thigh to settle at the tender, inner skin with a warning squeeze, his lips coming to press against your ear.

“Careful, baby,” he murmured lowly—a gruff sound that sent a jolt directly to your already-compromised core. And it was hard to ignore your arousal with the added stimulation of his stubbled jaw grating the sensitive skin of your cheek.

You turned your jaw partially, causing his soft lips to trace a seductive line along your cheekbone. “Always am,” you murmured in return, a cheeky grin beaming through as your gaze flickered down to his lips. Those darn lips. A taste you’d never get sick of, despite your tendency to grow bored of things rather quickly. Maybe you were no better than Ben—a shameless addict infatuated with the highs, only, your highs were being fondled by him.

For a moment, Ben entertained your play with a second of silence, and you were almost hopeful to feel his lips snag onto yours, but instead, they retreated from your jaw and left you in a state of hot disappointment.

“Pay attention,” he ordered, removing the hand he’d burrowed at your thigh to frame your jaw firmly. He turned your head forward and downwards, forcing your attention onto the makeshift blunt gripped in his other hand. His thumb trailed to your lips, kneading the tender skin aimlessly before slipping his hand from your jaw entirely. “Stick your tongue out.”

Obediently, you did as told, your tongue slipping through until you felt too ridiculous to go further.

“Atta girl,” he praised, your waist now straddled by both his arms as he held the corners of the makeshift blunt in his fingers and lifted it to your dangling tongue. “Now, I want you to lick it, just like I showed ya—and don’t crap out on showin’ it a good time, yeah?”

You gave a small nod and leaned your head down to meet the paper with your tongue, starting at the left corner. When the tip of your tongue made contact with the sheet, you could feel the cool, lingering trace of Ben’s saliva. It felt so primal, but you knew that he was enjoying every second of it—you lapping up his taste like an eager mutt, so you decided to give him one hell of a show.

You pressed your tongue against the paper more firmly now, and you began to drag a slow, sensual line toward the other corner, making sure to deliver a quick flick over Ben’s waiting thumbnail. He made a hald-amused, half-entertained noise, but waited patiently as you retraced the line back to the starting point.

Pulling back your tongue, you smacked your lips triumphantly. “All wet now,” you said.

“Bet you are,” he chuckled lazily, fingers moving to seal the paper and twist the ends into a reputable blunt. He brought the finished product up to your lips, urging the nozzle between them. “Be a good girl and hold onto that for me.”

You pulled your lips inward to deny the entrance of the blunt, turning your jaw to reject the offer. “No, thanks,” you said, but Ben wasn’t having it.

You felt his hand stroke up the curve of your thigh before forcing way beneath the hem of your shorts and underwear, where his fingers stroked a rough line through your folds. You gasped at the feel of his cool fingers playing at your hot core, and before you could process his foul play, his other hand was quick to push the fresh blunt between your parted lips.

“You talk too fuckin’ much,” he murmured against your ear, delivering a harsh squeeze to your clit. Your lips tightened around the blunt and you moaned into the smoking stick, eyes screwing shut as your head collapsed back into the crook of his neck. He pressed a hasty kiss to your temple, and you knew that it was more of a branding than a gesture of adoration. You were his to cherish, exploit and discard, all at once.

“What, you gonna tell me you didn’t see that comin’?” he chuckled lowly, the mocking sound vibrating against the crown of your head. “Been actin’ the brat this entire time, just hopin’ I’ll shut you the fuck up, huh? Yeah, I heard ya—loud and clear, baby.”

Your lips tightened around the blunt as Ben brutalised the pace of his fingers between your folds, vigorously toying with your clit like it were the worn strings of the guitar he couldn’t seem to master the tuning of. Your lips tightened around the blunt as his finger prodded at just the right spot, an explosion of pleasure slinging your thighs into a weakened and sprawled mess. All control over your body seemed to retreat as you slumped further into his strong frame, which cocooned you like it were your last hope at survival. Oh, you were done for, all right.

“You like that, huh?” Ben cooed into your ear, his free hand sliding beneath your tank to grab ahold of your breasts. He palmed both in a rough, careless motion, then settled on one with a teasing pinch to your nipple. The combined stimulation of his toying at both ends rendered you so speechless that you couldn’t even salvage a coherent moan, so you laid there in complete arrest, succumbing fully to your boyfriend’s mean ministrations. “What, nothin’ to say now? Not even a fuckin’ please or thank you? I know chivalry died when I was buried on ice, but I didn’t think the women had lost their manners, too.”

In all honesty, you could barely comprehend your boyfriend’s words through your numbed haze. Your vision slurred into darkness as your eyes fluttered closed, your saliva beginning to seep into the blunt’s contents as your lips clutched it like a lifeline. Ben released your breast, but the weaving of his fingers down below didn’t stutter. You felt his free fingers graze both your temples in sequence, where his knuckle pushed back the foremost strands of hair that had slipped the keep of your ears. Your heart fluttered an inch at what you thought to be an intimate gesture—which he gifted very few and far between. But knowing the type of man Ben was should have clipped your wings of hope and had you grounded from the get-go.

Suddenly, his hand trailed through your hair and fastened through as many strands as he could collect. Then, with a smooth roll of his wrist, he twined it into a harsh grip, your neck arching at an angle you couldn’t have achieved out of free-will. A weak protest slurred within your throat, which made Ben utter a sound half way between a low laugh and a scoff—the sound so demeaning it flushed your cheeks red. His exploitation hurt—but at the same time, it felt so good, so much so that your body did anything but pull away from his touch.

“Now this is a view I can get behind—you, all pretty and practically fallin’ apart on my fingers,” Ben murmured, his head lowering to your ear so that the sharp button of his nose nuzzled at your temple. “Fuck, I could take you right here, right now,” he continued sultrily. “You want that, sweetheart? Want me to give you exactly what you’ve been cravin’ all fuckin’ day? All you gotta do is ask. Nicely, you know, stroke my cock with your good-doer attitude. That achievable for a brat like you, hm?”

For all the questions asked, you couldn’t offer one damn answer—not with your lips plugged by Ben’s newest fix. You moved a hand to reach for the blunt, eager to pave way for the word that would lay your urges to rest for the night, but the hand he’d buried between your legs were quick to come up and seize your wrist in disapproval. A hot, disgruntled tut from Ben streamlined your ear, but all you could focus on was the sudden barrenness between your legs, a cold neglect left in the wake of his hand.

You weren’t afforded the opportunity to mourn that loss for long before he had both your palms pinned flat onto the table in front of you, the hand in your hair tugging further so that your upper body became suspended within a ruthless game of tug and war. Only, the two contestants—both his hands—were playing for the same team. Ben’s. The advantage was far from yours.

“Dirty stunt,” he hummed almost admirably, his nose tracing your jaw to place a single, devouring kiss over the arch of your neck. You felt the way his lips lapped at your skin in a large motion, like he craved to garner every inch of you in that single touch. He solidified that point with a harsh nibble, the sort that would pucker your skin for a good few minutes, before he brought himself back to your ear. “You don’t get to use your words for this, baby. Your right to an opinion has been worn out for the day, and quite frankly, I’ve had enough of all your fuckin’ chitchat. You wanna get fucked, you’re gonna show me just how much y’want it,” he husked with a dramatic pause, then added in a low murmur, “with your body. Got that?”

With your head practically immobilised by his grip, you echoed a muffled mhm. Your response seemed to be satisfactory enough because he relented his hold—just enough to relieve your pipes so that breathing came with a little more ease.

“Atta girl. It’s gets my dick salutin’ when you’re all obedient,” he praised. His claim was firmly backed by the bulge you felt growing beneath you. It pressed between your thighs like a brash beckoning, and it was enough to cause all the heat that had dissipated between your folds to re-emerge in full force. “Well? The hell you waitin’ for?” He asked in a tone a lot louder—and firmer—this time around.

You pushed out a clueless noise, which made Ben shift a thigh beneath you. Suddenly, the bulk of his leg was hoisted up between your own, the blunt force striking your core at just the right angle that sent a jolt up your body. You gasped a breathless sound into the blunt, your teeth burrowing into the softening paper, and your eyes screwed shut with the pleasure currently coursing your entire being.

“Get that body o’ yours movin’, or we can call it a disappointin’ night,” he instructed. God, you couldn’t come up short after all you’d endured thus far, so instinctually, your hips began to roll against his thigh at a jagged pace, seeking out the only stimulation you could manage in your stilted position. “Yeah, that’s it,” he cooed. “All yours for the takin’, if you’ll hold out long enough to see fuckin’ rainbows. A lot like bein’ on a high, ain’t it? Got my own li’l addict in the makin’.”

He was right. Actually, you thought this felt a whole lot greater than sniffing a line that would simultaneously have you losing your sanity for a few hours. Desperate whimpers began to stew in your chest, polished with so much passion that the sounds felt saturated, almost animated. And Ben, he was devouring every second of it. You couldn’t glimpse enough of his face to say that, but going off of everything you knew about him, and how mean he liked to get with you, you absolutely knew that you were something akin to his own personal heaven right about now. Oh, he’d forsake every personal belief to follow the religion that was you—your undoing.

Almost as though your body had grown frustrated with all the prolonged teasing, your high came on at a rapid pace that made you chest heave in desperation. You felt the arousal bundle into a tightly-knit ball, just yearning to be yanked at by the singular thread that would make it come undone. But the satisfaction was plucked out of reach within seconds when Ben released the grip on your hair to grab at your thigh, forcing your hips to still against his leg. And just like that, the fire within was snuffed out.

Your lips fell loose in exhaustion, the blunt you’d been so loyal to finally making an escape and toppling into your lap. “Ben,” you pushed out frailly, the disappointment heavy on your brows.

“The nerve o’ you,” Ben scoffed, utterly dismissive of your feeble protest. He released your thigh to dip into your lap, and shortly after, he pulled up with the blunt in clutch, wasting no time in pressing it back between your lips. You fumbled with the paper for a few seconds before you finally took it in, but you knew your boyfriend would have something to show for your disobedience. “Yeah, you are a brat,” he said, the hand pinning your wrists suddenly tightening as he pulled your arms to one side, his other hand hooking around your inner thigh.

In one large and effortless motion, he managed to sling you over his lap, releasing your wrists so that you were able to grasp the legs of his chair for support. You clutched the blunt between your lips a little tighter, fighting the villainous pull of gravity, and stifled a moan at the sudden spank that struck the curves of your ass. The aftermath of that contact had your body contracted with a mixture of shock and painful arousal, air blowing from your nostrils like harsh gusts.

“Fuckin’ quiverin’ already?” He chuckled, his large palm smoothing up the fabric of your shorts until you felt every inch of your ass dimple under the cool air of the room. You felt utterly exposed. “Baby, I’m just gettin’ started with you.”

Oh, you were so fucked.

His palm came down for another assault, this time louder than the last. The raw contact echoed through the apartment, narcissistically suffocating the whimper that rattled your chest. Tears began to hoard along the rims of your eyes, but you blinked enough to scatter the moisture. You didn’t need to give him another kick out of this—some lingering stubbornness wouldn’t allow it.

“Fuck, all that noise o’ yours is makin’ me lose count,” Ben scoffed. He rubbed soothing circles over your aching skin, which no doubt glowered an angry red that should have made your boyfriend feel some ounce of sympathy. But then the next words left his mouth, and you knew then that the Supe had no concept of remorse. “Guess I gotta start right at the beginning.”

You braved yourself against the rest of his spanks, your legs drawing together more and more with each touch—not from a place of pain, but from hot, embarrassing enjoyment. The slick within your folds was hard to ignore now, and it seemed to have snagged Ben’s attention because he let up on the harsh punishment, his fingers finding way beneath your shorts and drenched undies. You felt his fingers play at your slick, dragging a line all the way down to your yearning entrance.

“It’s a damn oil slick up in here,” he chuckled, his thumb teasing circles at your hypersensitive clit. “Whaddya say I give her some love, hm?” His finger dipped an inch into your entrance, as if offering a measly taste of his proposal. You rocked your hips back into him as a reply, urgently seeking out the length of his fingers. He gave a low chuckle, and to your shock, actually indulged your plea. Maybe it was your reward for finally playing by his rules.

You weren’t going to fucking question it.

Your back arched by instinct as you felt his fingers prowl into your entrance, your hands clutching the wooden legs of his chair as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. The full force of multiple of his fingers should have coaxed forward some fleeting sense of pain, but you’d been so incredibly aroused for so incredibly long that your entrance welcomed him in like an open-house party. He pumped into you as deep as he could, an appreciative grunt leaving his lips as he revelled in your velvety warmth. His other hand came to wrap around the front of your neck, offering some much needed support as your strength began to collapse with each pump of his fingers.

Your whimpers became more frequent and dishevelled as he picked up the pace, his fingers curling at just the right angle. Every. Fucking. Time. Ben knew how to do the job well—a tactic that had you coming back time and time again, begging for more.

“That’s it, baby, you’re doin’ so good f’me,” he husked out, his own voice slightly abraded by exertion. The subtle breathlessness woven through his words spurred you on even further, making you feel some type of special with the knowledge that he was giving you his all. Just to see you break. Just so that he could put you back together with cherishing kisses.

It only took a few more pumps of his fingers to have your eyes clenching in wait, your lips throttling the blunt as his fingers curled right into your blooming bundle of pleasure. And then he struck it head on, causing an explosion of colour to invade your vision. For a few seconds, you couldn’t comprehend anything beyond your own ragged breaths, your ears ringing with the overwhelming aftermath of your high. You felt your juices trickle from your entrance, and you heard the squelching as Ben slowly retreated from your entrance.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” he chuckled with a minuscule, congratulatory pat to your ass. “That was one o’ your best runs yet. Think ya can handle one more round?” Ben murmured, releasing your neck to rub a soothing line down your back. You didn’t honestly think you could, and you felt the way every inch of your body ached in an answering protest, but something else tugged your chin into that subtle permission, and then the Supe had you hoisted up in his arms bridal style as he carried you to the bed.

He laid you onto the mattress rather gently, but the caution was instantly discarded as he flipped you over and tugged your hips sky-high. His fingers hooked under the hem of your shorts and undies, and he couldn’t have yanked them over the curves of your ass at a faster pace. Your garments were tossed to some other corner of the room, followed by the rustle of fabric as Ben freed his stoic erection. You heard him huff a breath of relief, and you glanced over your shoulder in time to see him whisk across his shaft with a hasty pump.

You met his eye patiently, making a point to pout around the blunt so that he couldn’t miss the visual image of your dedication to this wretched thing. It made him smirk with satisfaction, a hand coming forward to hook around your pelvis and tug you back an inch. You grunted at the rough yank, turning your head forward as you settled yourself into your folded arms. You felt his tip nestle between your ass before dipping down to glide with ease into your slicked entrance. Both his hands took up firm grip at your pelvis, his large palms fanning across your navel as he pummelled into you with a guttural noise.

“Fuck,” he spat, his length retreating only to return with a force more brutal than a last. His hands shifted across your ass, delivering a hard spank before they slunk up to the small of your back. There, he pushed your stomach into the mattress, and you burrowed further into the material with every possessive thrust of his hips. “You’re just the fuckin’ release I needed after this shitty day—and god, you never disappoint,” he breathed out.

You whimpered in response, pressing your forehead into the sheets as your fingers curled into the bedding. God, this man was overstimulating—he seemed to forget that your frail body was no match for his super-abled one. Or, he simply revelled in that fact. Either way, you were done for.

The blunt’s body quirked against your lips as you practically smothered it against the mattress, but you could hardly be arsed about that now. Ben’s figure came to hover over you, his clothed chest pressing into your back. His hands came up beside your head, frantically searching for yours, and once he found them, his fingers threaded between yours. He held you firmly as he spread your hands out in front of you, trapping you below him as he continued to drive you into the bed. The worn bed frame was creaking so loud that it was almost absurd, and you half expected one of the neighbours to blare a shut the hell up from the top of their lungs. But the only noises to be heard were the gruff moans spewing from Ben’s lips, and your own muffled whining.

The mattress wasn’t anything as fancy as memory foam, but you were sure that by now—with how brutalised Ben’s pace within you was—that the mattress would never forget. You supposed you both had that in common.

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a/n — i’m not gonna lie, i was starting to think this piece would NEVER see the light of day good gawd i think i have commitment issues. anyhoo, if you are a pro at making blunts, mind your business! 😭 i did a quick google search and rolled with it (pun unintended), so if something’s inaccurate you can blame google pls and ty LMAO. i’m just a non smoker girly trying to bring the drug-addled fantasies of loving soldier boy to life, as best as i possibly and very limitedly can. if this fic traumatised you im sorry (also you’re welcome). y’all know the drill, it’s 2 am—if there are typos; no there’s not.

thank you for reading! all likes, comments & reblogs are deeply appreciated ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

tags — @gibson-g1rl @fallbhind @bohemianblasphemy @figthoughts

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